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The Partisan Chronicles
[That One Time in Delphia] 8 - The Thing About Running Errands

[That One Time in Delphia] 8 - The Thing About Running Errands

Rhian, Delphia

The next morning, four of us crammed into a tiny bedroom at the lair. Gus, Bear, and Llama crowded around me, peering at the drawing in my lap. I promised them a group portrait.

“A little less pointy,” Bear said.

I rubbed out the snout and sketched another.

Llama nodded. “Better, but make it smile.”

I made it smile.

“And it needs to be fluffier," Bear added.

I made it fluffier.

“And give it eyelashes,” Llama suggested.

I gave it eyelashes.

“I see what you mean,” Gus said. “That's one fine-looking creature.”

The two Animals nodded. I knew how to draw a bear, and I knew what a turtle and a sheep looked like, but I’d never seen a llama.

“Aren’t you going to draw a rabbit and a donkey?” Bear asked.

Gus giggled. Aye—giggled. That’s what he gets for laughing at a donkey.

“You’ve known us for two days.” I said. “I wasn’t about to presume.”

Llama plucked the straw hat off his head and plopped it on Gus’s. “Maybe so, but I have a feeling we’ll be friends for a long time.”

“A feeling, or a feeling?” Gus asked.

“In all potential futures where we make it out alive, I have a feeling.”

Goddess-be-damned psychics. I didn't know all that much about how precognition worked, on account of it was tricky holding a conversation with a mute. As far as what I did know about precognition, the future was ever-shifting and rarely set in stone.

While we chit-chatted, I worked on the donkey and the rabbit.

“Say, Llama, how come you started smiling and talking?” Gus asked. “We’ve run into a few defected Senec in our time, but they’ve all kept up the stoic mute thing.”

“That was our fault,” Bear said.

Llama nodded. “It’s true. They wore me down, but I’d always found the practice counterproductive to Seneca’s message. A person can't gain experience wholly by observing without partaking, and gaining whole wisdom without experiencing wholly is a silly notion.”

That was fair enough.

Just as I was working on Gus’s whiskers, the door opened.

Apparently, privacy was also a silly notion.

It was one of the two defects from the night of the theft. We’ll call him Blue Jacket, and the other one will be Green Jacket. Anyhow. Blue Jacket wanted to speak with me and Gus alone. What could we say? We had to be agreeable for the cause.

I’d almost finished sketching the group portrait, so I left it with Bear and Llama seeing as there was the chance we’d never see them again.

Gus tried returning Llama’s hat, but the Senec wouldn’t have it.

If I had to place bets, it was for the same reason I left the portrait.

These were the lives we led, and it was nothing new.

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Blue Jacket assigned me a topside shopping expedition.

It was a lucky break, seeing as I was going to have to come up with a reason to leave for a while anyhow. Blue Jacket said they needed Gus for something else. We didn’t like the idea of splitting up, let alone under these exact circumstances, but what could we do? In order to get them to trust us, we had to make it seem like we trusted them.

It was the name of the game and whatnot.

Before getting started on the shopping that day, I had plans of my own. On my way to the church, I kept to the side-streets and back-alleys. I couldn’t be sure the defects didn’t have someone tailing me, so confusing my direction and keeping my eye out for anyone suspicious was my top priority.

Thanks to the Liaison covering up what happened to the Tear, I wasn’t actually a fugitive at the minute, but I didn’t want to waltz into the church willy-nilly, either. It wasn’t in our best interests to be seen together. I needed Strauss’s help, but I didn’t want him implicated in anything. Poor bastard had it bad enough as it was.

One more fuck-up and I reckoned he wouldn’t be taking those vows in a few months.

The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

Anyhow. It was far too early for Strauss to be on lunch, but it was just early enough for him to still be sleeping. When I arrived outside his room, the drapes were shut.

I knocked three times. The thick purple drape curled to the side.

The second he spotted me, he cranked the window open, and I climbed through.

“Morning, Strauss,” I said.

“Good morning, Sinclair,” he said, shutting the window.

Then we did an awkward little shuffle, as if we weren’t sure whether we ought to hug. We settled on not.

“I can’t stay long,” I said. “I’m not even sure I wasn’t being followed, but—whatever. This entire job is going to shite. Do you have the things?”

Strauss reached into his desk drawer, pulling out a stack of parchment. Some were more crumpled than others.

“This is all I could get without raising suspicions.”

He handed me the pages. I looked them over.

“The first three pages are samples of Councilwoman Blanchett’s handwriting, including an original seal, and the bottom two pages are those belonging to the Liaison.”

I flashed a smile. “Brilliant. And do you have all the details?”

“The Liaison and his entourage will receive the Councilwoman tomorrow morning at the Drop. She'll be arriving in the morning, but the whole affair is likely to take several hours. They intend to parade her through the city, leaving enough time for special performances from various troupes, autographs, et cetera. It’s safe enough to say the estate will be on skeleton staff.”

“Reckon they’ll be bringing her back there?”

“That’s my understanding,” Strauss said. “As you know, the unveiling of the Tear is set for the following afternoon in the city centre. Do you think they’re going to tell her what happened?”

“Naw,” I said. “So far, their aim is to discredit her. It’s the perfect opportunity to prove she’s got her head so far up her own arse she doesn’t even know where her own goddess-be-damned gem is, let alone what her people need from a Councilwoman. Reckon they’re aiming for public humiliation—at the least.”

Strauss nodded. “What are the samples for?”

“Contingency,” I said. “Originally, anyhow. I reckoned we might need a quick way off the island at some point. There’s a reason Gus is a talented forger, and it’s not on account of a burning desire. It’s a testament to how often it’s come in handy.”

“Originally?”

“Let’s just say, I’m brewing a plan to help some friends. The less you know, the better.”

Even though he said he understood, he was disappointed. I could tell.

“One more thing,” I said. “Can you think of any reason you might need to visit the Liaison’s office, say, tomorrow?"

Strauss raised an eyebrow.

I bloody loved it when he did that, and I hoped my cheeks weren’t as red as they felt. But judging by the way he looked at me next, and the way he stuffed his fist in his pocket, and the adorable way he stumbled over his words, I wasn’t fooling anyone.

“Well, I’ll need him to—ah—I suppose I’ll need him to sign my release papers.”

“Perfect. I’ll need you there at noon,” I said. “And don’t be late.”

“The Liaison won’t be in his office at that hour; he’ll still be escorting the Councilwoman.”

“Right,” I said. “We don’t want him to be there. We just need you to be there for a good reason. You’re a smart man, Strauss. You’ll find a way.”

Strauss nodded, and we reviewed the two details one more time for good measure. Then, after going through the same old will we, won’t we hug-dance, I slipped through the window and watched as he shut the drape behind me.

My stomach knotted up and my eyes felt weird, and I didn’t want to think about how I might never see him again after this job. I took a sip of Hocks from my flask.

Goddess-be-damned pain in the arse.

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The shopping list Blue Jacket recited for me was straightforward—food and basic necessities. I hoped I hadn't forgotten anything. It didn’t take me long to get it all sorted, and I helped myself to a few cherries while I was at it. By the time I got finished at the market and was on my way back to the lair, I couldn’t shake the feeling I was being watched. But every time I stopped to adjust the bags around my shoulders and consider my surroundings, I never spotted the same person twice. Whatever.

Just like I had done before, I kept to the side-streets. It wasn’t until I turned down the final back-alley that I realized I wasn’t wrong. I was being followed.

Out of nowhere, a pale hand grabbed my shoulder. I spun around and socked the son-of-a-bitch in the gut with one of the shopping bags.

After coming to his senses, the creeper shook his head and muttered, “Rude.”

Dropping the bags, I reached for my daggers. If we were about to get into it, it wouldn't be a toe-to-toe fight. Against a Celestian, a Strachan had to rely on gaining distance, being more agile, and using their melee weapons like projectiles.

“Hey now—I come in peace.” The Celestian held his hands up, as if that would prove anything. For all I knew, he was about to set me on fire. Like all Celestian, he was tall, skinny, and generally ethereal looking.

I narrowed my eyes. “If you were coming in peace, you might have tried saying, ‘Hey, Rhian,’ instead of grabbing me like that.”

My stalker shrugged. “Sorry,” he said. “Mister Delestade sent me.”

“A likely story,” I said. “And how do I know you aren’t being followed?”

“Do you see anyone else?”

“Uh—no, but I didn’t see you, either.”

The stranger sighed. “Besides the half-breed Petitioner, I’m the only Celestian on the island.”

He had a point. I’d seen this one lurking around the lair, but I hadn’t seen any others. Then again, goddess-be-damned invisibility.

“As far as you know,” I said.

“What can I say to put a stop to this circular conversation?” he asked.

“How about something interesting? You’re not the only one getting bored.”

“Mister Delestade told me you've agreed to help us, and as far as I know, there’s only one way off this island. So, you’re going to need my assistance. Besides, I have information you can’t get elsewhere.”

“Like?”

“Like what the other defects really have planned. This invisibility thing is useful for a lot more than spooking cute, unsuspecting Strachan.”

“Spare me,” I said. “But all right—I’ll bite."

The strange Celestian smiled. “Good. I think we’ll make a great team.”

“We’ll see about that,” I said. “What’s your name, anyhow?”

“You can call me Riz.” He extended his hand.

I slipped my daggers away and shook it.

It was risky, but I believed him. And if we were going to help the Animals, Riz was our best shot.