Such distrust. Words of warning. The past is not part of the deal. Careful with the leash. Lies of omission revisited.

Sal had tried to engage the banshee in several conversations, but Shivaun had only wanted to work. He didn’t know if using her frost words took a lot out of her, or not, but she normally used them sparingly. Or maybe she didn’t like talking to him at all. Either way, he was simply glad she’d stopped trying to murder him. He wanted to give her space. But after the Governor’s visit, she seemed eager to talk.

The sun was still relatively high in the western sky, so Sal had a bit of time before dinner, though he wouldn’t be able to help Fabrizio set things up. That was probably all right because he had no trouble finding people to help him cook the night’s free meal. The cleanup was the issue.

Shivaun stood behind the counter, in the shadows she liked. She pointed at the wall.

We can’t trust him. He’s a Governor, and Governors are always trouble.

“I had the same thought. I have seen it before—the laughing fool can thrust a dagger in your back as easily as the frowning assassin. At the same time, anyone aiding me with paperwork is a welcome ally.” He paused. “Did you know this Tony Belly?”

Her first words were already melting. She added more below them with pop. I knew of him. It was why we came here. It was deserted, even back then. He was the only governor of any power that we knew of, and he wasn’t even the governor.

The ghost mentioned a very mysterious “we.” Who was the “we?”

Sal smiled. “Is this where you tell me about your past?”

Do you want to talk about your past, Salvanguish Ordinal?

A shiver touched the back of his neck. “What would you like to know?”

The ghost frowned at him. The black eyes in her pale face narrowed. I know enough. You wanted to kill us all. You wanted to rule the world and enslave all free people.

“Ah, my legacy.” He slowly closed his eyes. “It was more complicated than all that, I assure you.” He took a moment before opening his eyes. “But I feel I am at a disadvantage. You know about me, but I know nothing about you. Is the “we” you mentioned your friends I found here when I first arrived? If I had to guess, I would think you were Tower Climbers.”

The ghost waved her pale hands at him. More frozen words appeared on the wall. Yes, but that is my own business. I never said I would reveal anything about me or my past. That was not part of the agreement.

“You are correct.” Sal found himself strangely disappointed at her non-response, though he had been given one kernel of the truth. She had been a Climber. He let the subject drop. “So you wanted to warn me about the Governor. Is that why you are afraid?”

I AM NOT AFRAID!

“Capital letters,” he mused. “I believe I have struck a chord. Forgive me, and yet, I thought I saw fear in your eyes. Was I mistaken?”

YES!

Sal tilted his head. “I do not mean to be impolite, but you are dead. What is there to fear?”

She pointed at the wall, at the capital letters, as if to emphasize her lack of fear.

“Hey!” Betty cried from a table near them. “I’m back. I think I missed something. Did the governor finally pay a visit?” She took a minute to read the frozen words on the wall. “Yeah, he did visit. He’s a strange guy, from what I hear. Not like any governor that Torment Island ever had, present company included. Why is Shivaun freaking out then?”

Again, there was furious gesturing on the part of the banshee.

“That’s a whole lotta of protesting from our cold girl here.” Betty itched her head, which made her wiggle her ears.

It was so cute that Shivaun was left smiling. She soon found her frown again.

This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

“What do you know of this Tony Belly?” Sal asked.

Betty shrugged. “He owned this place, right? I figured his name would come up at some point, since we’re crashing in his former diner. That’s about all I know, other than what our ghost girl wrote up there. He did bring some much-needed order, but then that fell apart. It’s how the cookie crumbles. Speaking of which, when am I going to get your father’s recipe for chocolate-chip cookies, Sal? I’m getting tired of scrounging.”

“I am endeavoring to open soon,” Sal said. “If not, I think Shivaun might return to her cursed ways.”

The ghost shook her head in disbelief but didn’t add any more words to the wall.

Betty wrinkled her little nose. “Listen, girlfriend, I’m curious about you like this big mook is. You’re right, though, you didn’t say you’d give us the lowdown on your past. I did have a question, since we’re chatting. You alone here, Shivaun? Or are there other ghosts? Like Mr. Peaches. Hey, could that Tony Belly maybe?”

Sal had the same idea, but he kept quiet.

Shivaun had run out of room on the wall, and so she started back at the top, freezing new words on top of the old, melted ones. This whole square is full of ghosts. Yes, there are other spirits here, but I am not here to be social. I am here to work!

With that, she vanished.

Sal was glad she didn’t scream, though he was still wondering why the governor’s visit upset her so. It could be, she didn’t like the idea that Sal having to do some unnamed favor. That was a worry, though they could fret about that at another time.

Betty rolled her little eyes. “Well, champ, that wasn’t all that helpful. We should be happy, though, she’s on our side. Kinda. Tell me about what you and Ziggy talked about.”

He relayed the conversation, which, in his mind, had more good news than bad.

The mouse nodded. “So we’re gonna be legit. Righteous. I can’t help but think we might not want the Governor on our side. He’s not popular, especially with the Braggadorio families. And we’re gonna need to deal with them. At least we have the church on our side.”

“We have Fabrizio with us, but not the church. I have not spoken a single word to the Pontrafax Genetrix, and she wields far more power. She is close, and yet, she has not contacted us, neither directly nor through a messenger.”

“She might not know we’re even here, champ,” Betty pointed out. “And I say good. Let’s keep a low profile until we get things off the ground. If we open up a great place, we’ll be in a good negotiating position if she gives us any trouble. The more I think about it, being on the governor’s good side might have some benefits.”

Sal wasn’t sure, but he was hungry, and he’d think better on a full belly. “Are you up for a trip to Fabrizio’s chapel for dinner?”

“That rye bread and butter? You bet! It’s almost as good as a good chocolate-chip cookie. Ha, not really. Let’s go, captain!”

Sal gently dropped the mouse into the pocket, took a moment to read the melting words again, and then sighed. Shivaun didn’t want to talk about her past, which was fine. Sal didn’t want to talk about his either. At the same time, he knew that he would have to come clean at some point, with both the banshee and himself.

He put the chains and lock back up, knowing that he’d have to buy new ones when he opened. He’d have to secure his meager cashbox when the time came. At least now, he’d have the right paperwork and a working faucet.

Walking past the tower’s entrance, he saw a group exit, scorched, battle weary, and frowning. He didn’t know what was in there, and he didn’t really want to know. He had enough on his plate as it was.

Confusion Street was as crowded and loud as usual, and when he got to the Mind & Body Tables, he was too late to get a seat.

He got in line, got his tray, and ate sitting on a wall near the chapel. He gave his mouse friend a bit of bread and butter, and then enjoyed the yummy noises that Betty made. Her reaction, in some ways, was more satisfying than eating the food himself.

It wasn’t long before Fabrizio hurried over to him. “Sal! I have a treat tonight. I was going to read more poems from Gallias Protean, his poem on the ease of a midnight cold after a hot day, but then I found a very compelling passage from a Gorbin philosopher. It’s on the benefits of charity and selflessness, thinking about other people more than you think about yourself. Oh boy, it’s good. Really good. But I can’t really say it’s from a Gorbin philosopher, now can I? So what should I say?”

Sal found himself grinning. “Are you asking me to help you lie, Ponti? For, at present, I cannot partake in obfuscations of any kind.”

The Ponti seemed shocked, but then he smiled, dimples and all. “Are you thinking I should just tell the truth? That’s a spicy take.”

The Dark Lord thought for a minute. “Maybe say an unnamed philosopher, a great thinker from a lost text, that you have been translating. Emphasize the exotic wisdom, perhaps. None of that is untrue.”

“A lie of omission. It doesn’t sit well with me. However, it is the safer bet. At some point, I’m going to need to tell the Pontrafax Genetrix about the secret Gorbin library. Oh boy, that’s not going to be easy. And if she tells me we have to destroy the books, I’ll be in a big pickle.” He shook his head. “But hey, I think I found something that I want to talk with you about. You know those charts and sigils that you found in The Chronicles of GuNakt? I found out more about them. Let’s talk after we cleanup. Would that work for you?”

Sal nodded, very enthusiastically. “It would indeed.”

He had to wonder at the Ponti’s abilities. It had been two weeks of study, and already Fabrizio was discovering any number of mysteries from a language he hardly knew. It was a testament to the man’s brilliance.

Sal liked having such a brilliant friend. The tomb raider had promised a treasure in the chapel’s crypt, and Sal was coming to find out, treasures came in all sorts of sizes, shapes, and qualities.