Chapter 47 - The Talk

I suppose it was inevitable once talk of Annalisa’s parentage and mention of Margot Bethane came up in close enough proximity. I’d seen the sidelong looks she gave me ever since the basement in Hollowdown when Mother Mayaz licked my gods-cursed face. The looks she gave when she thought I wasn’t looking. As we left, she finally mustered the courage.

“Darcent…” she began. Under the light of the wane dragons, her pale blue skin had an almost ghost-white shade, close to a sky plane-touched.

“What is it?” I asked.

Annalisa hemmed a minute, which was uncharacteristic of the typically brash and outspoken woman. Though, I doubted anything she could say now would really surprise me.

“Was Margot Bethane… your mother?”

“My what? My mother!?” I sputtered. Ok, so she could still shock me. “No. Annalisa. The Fel Witch of Dragonmaw absolutely was not my mother. My mother was a seamstress from Stitch Alley.”

Annalisa looked relieved, letting out a breath. But it caught in her throat. “But that’s where she died. Mother Mayaz said she could taste her on you. And you have weird powers and you’re not bad bad, but you are a criminal.”

“Annalisa…” I began. But now that the faucet had started, all the words that Annalisa had somehow held back came bubbling out.

“You’re always talking about knaves and dragons, and your plans for the city, and you have weird magic, and you’re getting stronger all the time and it’s scary how fast. You kill people and it doesn’t seem to tear you up inside. And I think, as your bodyguard, I ought to know who you are.”

She paused and looked down at the ground, then back up at me. “Am I… protecting a monster?”

I opened my mouth, and then closed it. “What could I tell you that would convince you I’m not?”

Annalisa leaned against the front wall of a leatherworker’s stall and pulled at her horns, frustrated. “I don’t know, Darcent! The truth? The whole story? Can we start with that?”

I looked around to make sure the street was ours and ours alone. Not that you were ever truly alone in the city that swallows all. But the closest denizens of the middle city were half a block off and headed uphill towards the upper city. The other direction, a woman was pushing out pinned clothes along a line strung between her house and her neighbors. I looked back at Annalisa, waiting for my answer.

“The truth is, I don’t know, Annalisa. I don’t think I’m a monster, but does anyone? I’m not some moral paragon. I lie, I cheat, I steal, and I scrap. That’s how you survive in Dragonmaw unless you got a house name and a crest with some silly-bugger design on it like three apples or a lion and an ear of wheat. But I’m not cruel. I don’t delight in suffering.”

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“What about Margot Bethane?”

I really didn’t like talking about this. But Annalisa was right. She had saved my life multiple times and committed herself to my cause. She had a good reason to know. Part of it, at any rate.

“She died right in front of me,” I said.

Annalisa gawked. “You killed Margot Bethane?”

“No!” I shouted, then softer. “No. At least, I don’t think so. She and her right hand came into our home and killed my mother. She was going to kill me. She grabbed my face, demanded I name myself.” I shivered. “I still remember how her touch burned. So, I told her my name. But she just got angrier. She squeezed so hard I thought she was going to crush my jaw into powder. Then blood splashed all over my face and I blacked out. When I came to, she was dead on the ground next to my mother, her lieutenant was gone, and what was left of the city guardians were stomping down into my basement.”

“Why did she want to know your name?” asked Annalisa, cocking her head.

“Who can say the Fel Witch’s workings?” I asked. I didn’t tell her that Margot had pronounced me a chosen one. Chosen by whom, and for what, she had neglected to mention. But it couldn’t be good, because prophecy never was. Out of all the basements in the city, she’d sought out mine because of me. Whatever purpose darkened our doorstep, it had been purpose. Not a working of chance or coincidence. And I’d put off figuring out why. But I might not have that luxury anymore. Things were moving in Dragonmaw, and Bethane clearly still had allies and followers. Even post mortem, she continued to haunt my life.

The fact I couldn’t recall seeing her actual death? Well, that just made things worse. "I honestly don’t know what happened. Maybe her right hand chose that moment to stab her in the back. Maybe some spell she did backfired. Maybe I did somehow kill her. But after that day, I start seeing these cards over peoples’ heads and they sent me to the Seekers Guild to learn magic and fortune telling.”

Annalisa pushed off the stall and began to pace back and forth, as she did when she was thinking. Her tail thrashed, cutting through the air so sharply I could hear the swish of the air being parted.

“So, you don’t think you’re evil?” she finally asked.

“No.”

“And you don’t think you killed Margot Bethane?”

I spread my hands. “Anna, I was fifteen, dirt poor, and living in a basement. How many high-ranked adventurers did she annihilate during her reign of terror? She took apart the Silver Chalice Lions. They were a full party of star steel ranked adventurers. Do you have any idea how powerful rank 11’s are?”

Annalisa bit the knuckle of her finger. “I guess that’s true,” she finally admitted. Then, she brightened. “Well, I guess that means I can continue being your bodyguard!”

I balked. “Just like that?” I asked.

“Just like that,” she confirmed. She pointed her finger at me, eyes narrowing. “But I won’t help you be a villain. Maybe I don’t understand exactly how your mind works. And you’re right that you have to do the things we’ve had to do to get anywhere in this city. Everyone knows those tower lords up the hill are even worse. But, if you ever start turning into Bethane, If that monster ever comes out of you, I won’t hesitate. I wasn’t raised to stand by and let someone use me for evil.”

“How will you know?” I asked. Annalisa wasn’t the only one who had been ready to boil over. “How can you tell when violence in the interest of survival spills over to cruelty and malice if cruelty is what your survival requires? When does a preemptive strike against a threat cross the line? Where does it turn evil?”

“I’ll know,” she said, “because I’m not a philosopher, and so I don’t waste my time worrying about silly things like anything you just said.”

It ought be said, Annalisa’s mind was often a mystery to me, too.

I sighed. “Thanks, Annalisa.”

“For what?”

“For not assuming that I’m a monster.”

Annalisa grinned. “Just a bit of a freak.”

I laughed. “Just a bit—wait,” my eyes narrowed. “You don’t still believe...”

She pushed off the wall and continued toward Barrowdown. “Eyes off the tail, Darcent.”

Some things were just never going to change.