You can read the previous chapter here!
“Don’t worry, we’ll get him,” said Annabel with certainty. “Asp has a plan.” She was sitting next to Kyrn, patting her gently on the back. Kyrn stared off into the distance, and there was a slight glint of a tear in her eye. Annabel talked to her like a mother would to a child. “Don’t you worry. We got him.”
Oslo stirred in his chair and mumbled something too low for the rest of the gang to pick up on. He poured himself another cup of coffee and ambled around the warehouse.
“It’s payday, folks!” he barked. “Don’t you want to get paid?” He rubbed his thumb and forefinger together in front of his face, but everyone remained dour. “C’mon, everybody!” he said in a near-growl. “We’re about to be rich. Relax.”
Candace, still rubbing the sleep out of her eyes, emerged from the bunk room. “So, what’s the plan for Dancer, then?”
Oslo groaned and cradled his face with his hand. He returned to the table and took a seat, resigned.
Anxious faces turned to Asp. She sipped at her coffee and put the mug down hard. A few droplets of coffee splashed over the edge and ran down to the wooden surface of the table.
“This is gonna be a two birds-one stone situation. We get Dancer out, and we put the Curator in.” Asp drew invisible lines on the tabletop, showing a switch between two places. “Obviously we need Dancer back, and then the Curator can’t go back on the blackmail we set up or reveal our job at the museum. So we make a switch with our witness. We meet the witness on the road, send them back where they came from, and send Annabel in their place to identify the Curator.”
Oslo tsk-tsked. “The guards know Annabel. She can’t pose as a stranger.”
Asp nodded, her brows knit. “Surely we know a clean dwarf who we can trust . . .”
Jehosaphat frowned. “Our network of contacts got a bit scrambled before you arrived. There were some complicated deals we were trying to make that didn’t turn out as planned.”
“We tried to double-cross most every contact we had,” translated Gregorio. “It took all we had to just keep what we have now.”
Jehosaphat seemed amused more than annoyed by the correction. “And so if we need a dwarf, we’re going to need to find a dwarf,” he said.
Oslo spoke up: “A dwarf without a conscience, but who also doesn’t want to live like us. A dwarf we can trust to lie for us but not to us. A dwarf who–” he sat suddenly back straight in his chair, stroking his beard. “ A dwarf who could be one of us, but isn’t.”
Gregorio pulled a small coinpurse from the inside of his coat. He withdrew a small stack of crowns and pushed them towards Asp. “To obtain their temporary loyalty,” he said with a serious smile.
Asp slipped the gold-pointed coins into a small pouch on the inside of her dress. She stared into the middle distance for a moment, fading into some other time and place, until Candace spoke. “You okay there?”
Asp shook herself off. “Just peachy. I’ll be back. If you can, figure out what this witness looks like aside from being a dwarf.” She nodded, pulling down the brim of her reporter’s cap, and left the warehouse.
She walked out into the city’s increasingly busy streets. Dwarf. Female. Outside of the law. Not too desperate. She scanned people walking by: not a dwarf, not a woman, legitimate businessperson, doesn’t look upset. The city had seemed full of signs of bad fortune the day before, but now that she needed help from someone down-on-their-luck, she seemed only to find people doing well.
Perhaps the best place to find a struggling dwarf would be in the dwarven slums, she thought. She turned suddenly and cut through a long, winding alleyway which deposited her at the base of the dwarven slums. She grinned at her successful navigation of the city. I’m getting the hang of this place.
Groups of dwarves walked this way and that as Asp wandered through the district. She noticed a solitary female dwarf standing outside of a bakery and watched. The dwarf was whittling a stick into some curving shape, and she was doing so with intense focus. Asp approached, and between the dwarf’s thrusts of the knife down the stick, she spoke.
“Nice form, there, stranger.” Delia’s raspy tone sounded as friendly as possible.
The dwarf stopped and looked down at her. “Mornin’,” she mumbled.
“May I see what you’re carving there?” Asp flitted her eyes between the dwarf’s face and the forming carving.
The dwarf listlessly held the carving out. It appeared to be a crescent moon, but with a network of vines covering it. The detail work was still rough, but it was clear what Asp was looking at.
“Woooow,” intoned Asp. “Now that’s cool.”
The dwarf didn’t respond and kept carving.
“So, um . . . look,” said Asp, performatively shifty. “I’m in need of a favor, and I can pay, but it’s delicate work.” Delia looked around, checking for anyone in earshot. “Can I get you to help me with something for less than an hour? I can pay well.”
“I’m pretty busy today,” said the dwarf, never taking her eyes off the carving.
“That’s okay!” cried Asp. “It’s not until tomorrow that I need your help anyway. Just answer one question for the guards, and–”
“Nope!” exclaimed the dwarf. “I don’t mess with guards since they arrested me last spring.”
Arrested. Crap. “My apologies, miss. Best of luck with your carving, and good day!” Delia punctuated this with a curtsy and hurried away.
-
The morning and afternoon passed this way. Asp would find a female dwarf alone and probe into their situation, only to find that there was something wrong–or rather, right–with them as a candidate. A chorus of dwarven voices echoed in her head: “I’m friends with a few guards.” “I’m out of town tomorrow.” “I was falsely arrested a few years ago.”
Some obstacles can be plowed through, while others require finesse. It’s times like these that I regret choosing a life working only with finesse. It was exhausting. How much simpler–not easier, but simpler–would it be to break the jail cell open? But then Dancer would need to leave town to be truly free, and the gang would likely be incriminated, and then could any of them stay in town? And so the simple plan could not do–they would need to make the difficult plan work.
When encountering a roadblock, Asp often chose to take a break. Resting the mind often results in helpful new thoughts. She headed into the nearest tavern–”Dunkly’s”–and took a seat at the bar between some open seats. She ordered a brandy and sat sipping at it, her brain buzzing.
The tavern was pretty lively. A pair of Ronan'el were arm-wrestling in the back corner, and a small group of humans and Ronan'el were betting on the outcome. A table full of elves and humans was home to a large card game with what seemed to be convoluted rules, as the layout followed no order Asp had ever seen. A loud conversation about the bandit raids to the south was taking place at a table near the door, and boasts of what each person would do to the bandits grew increasingly colorfully violent as the conversation continued.
Asp finished her drink and asked the bartender for her tab. “Two caps,” he grumbled, and Asp began to count out the required square copper-dipped coins inside her coinpurse and out of the view of the public. A figure sat down at the bar next to her, and, out of sight, Asp returned her coinpurse to its hiding place and set the caps on the bar. She glanced to her side and saw a dwarven woman. One more drink won’t hurt.
“Another, please, sir,” she said, and the bartender shrugged and poured another brandy.
“And for you?” asked the bartender, looking at the dwarven woman who had sat down next to Asp.
“Whatever you got that smells like grog,” said the dwarf in a tired voice.
“Ahh, a classic grog,” said Asp, trying to sound appreciative. Gross. “Good afternoon, traveler.”
The dwarf looked back at Asp, eyes wide. “How do you know I’m a traveler?” she asked, her brow furrowed..
Asp smiled. “Your pack and bedroll. And your body language–clearly, you’ve been walking all morning, probably yesterday too. And your order–dwarves this way prefer the heavier ales to actual grog.”
“Oh, only all that?” replied the dwarf. “It’s a good thing you were here to tell me how I seem to people in this part of the world.”
The bartender set down the dwarf’s grog and Asp’s brandy on the bar. The dwarf took a large gulp. Asp took a small gulp which she made look like a bigger drink.
“I’m far from home, too,” said Asp. “I only arrived from Thistlewade a few days ago. Things are very different here than back there.”
“When will you return home?” asked the dwarf, concern in her voice.
“I don’t know. I feel like I have business here, but I don’t know exactly what it is yet.” Now redirect. She adopted a troubled tone. “And I’m just so distracted because my friend is in terrible trouble.”
The dwarf narrowed her eyes, then softened. “What’s wrong?”
“My friend Dancer got on the wrong side of the law–nothing bad, but guards around here can take things really personal–and they have him locked up. They’re trying to frame him for some crimes he didn’t commit. They’re even sending someone to falsely identify him. And now me and my friends will never be able to save him.” Asp managed to work up teary eyes by the end of her speech.
“Oh, no,” moaned the dwarf. “I know how that goes. My brother was locked up for a few months because someone who looked like him robbed a shop. It really ruined his whole life.”
I knew taking a break would work. “Noooo,” moaned Asp. “That just can’t happen to Dancer. He’s too good a person to have this happen. Please, help us,” she pleaded.
“But what can I do?” asked the dwarf, her eyes wide.
“You can pretend to be the person who’s identifying him!” cried Asp, keeping her volume low. “If you came into town from the main gate and went to identify the guy who actually did it, Dancer would be saved! The guards’ little plot would blow up in their faces!”
The dwarf’s eyes lit up at the mention of stymying the guards. “Would that really work?”
Asp managed to not smile. “Absolutely. You identify the real guy–he’s this strange little newtkin with a goatee and lots of gadgets–and our innocent friend goes free.” Asp studied the dwarf. She seemed on the fence. Sell it. “And whatever it is that the guards wanted, they don’t get.”
The dwarf chuckled to herself, then looked seriously at Asp. “But what if they don’t believe me when I say I’m there to identify the newtkin?”
“What reason would they have to not believe you?” Asp leaned a bit closer. “You’re just there to attend to the justice of the system.”
“I suppose. I’m just nervous.” The dwarf looked at her hands, fidgeting.
Asp tried to size up the dwarven woman. What does she want? She took a gamble.
“Would a donation help?” asked Asp, dropping a few caps into her palm for the clink clink that followed. “My friends and I are willing to pay for help getting our friend free.”
The dwarf was breathless. “You want to pay me to lie to the guards?”
Asp bolted into action to recover. “That’s not how I would put it. I was offering to reimburse you for your time and liability. I would never ask someone to break rules or their own conscience.” She sounded severe and offended.
The dwarf settled back in her seat. “Okay, sorry, just trying to figure things out. Can I think about this and get back to you?”
Asp withheld a frown. Why do people always need time when time is what I don’t have? “Of course!” she assured the dwarf. “Just let me know by tonight. I’ll be back here at sundown.”
“Okay,” said the dwarf, mulling it over. “It’s Wanda, by the way.”
“Nice to meet you, Wanda. I’m Delia. I really hope you decide to help us. I don’t know what we’ll do without you.” Asp’s voice was tight.
With that, Asp downed the rest of her brandy, left some more caps on the counter, and walked back out into the city.
-
Asp returned to the warehouse to find most of the gang inside. Jehosaphat, Candace, Annabel, and Gregorio sat around the table with drinks between them. The conversation did not slow when Asp came in.
“But none of that even touches the time I had to get out of a building from the fifth story before it burned down,” said Candace. “And Dancer was trying to put out the fire with a bucket!” Laughter exploded around the shared memory.
“Right, but what about that time you brought those three goons who were tailing you back to the old hideout?” said Annabel, her voice rising. “I had to pummel two of ‘em myself while you all ganged up on the third one.” This memory drew its own knowing laughter.
“Yeah, but we were all ganging up on the biggest one,” Candace said. “You had the two smaller ones.”
“Smaller ones? They were both over a foot bigger than me!” insisted Annabel. “Oh hey, Asp,” she called. “Any luck out there?”
“Maybe,” said Asp, uncertain.
“Well if it’s a ‘maybe,’ why so glum?” countered Jehosaphat.
“Because it’s no guarantee,” said Asp with finality. “I’m not good at this hoping thing.”
“I think the only one of us who’s any good at hoping is Dancer,” said Gregorio. “And look where that’s gotten him.”
The gang winced at Gregorio’s statement. “Unfortunately, my point exactly,” said Asp after a moment. “What are Oslo and Kyrn up to?”
Jehosaphat smoothed his greying mustache. “Oslo is out contacting the buyer for the chest. He insisted on handling the final details himself. Kyrn is trying to get a description of the witness from Dancer. ”
Asp nodded. Her nerves were strained. She regarded herself with surprise. I’ve worked with these people for a few days. I’m already freaking out because something happened to one of them. What’s going on with me? She noticed that she had lost herself in thought and snapped to the moment. “I’m gonna go find Kyrn. If we need any little details to make our potential double look more like she’s supposed to, I want time to prepare,” said Asp, standing.
“Good thinking,” replied Jehosaphat. “And good luck.”
Asp waved to the gang and headed back out into the city, which swirled around her as quickly as her thoughts.
-
Asp arrived at the guardhouse a few minutes later. She made her way up to the front door and peered in the window. She couldn’t see Kyrn anywhere inside–not by the waiting area, not back by the cells, not in the Captain’s office. Where is she?
A whispered voice came from behind her. “Psssst. Asp. Psssst.”
Asp wheeled, scanning the street behind her. No one was there.
“Aaaaasp!” came a more insistent whisper. It seemed to be coming from . . . beneath her?
She looked down at the floorboards of the porch that led to the building’s entrance. Beneath, between the floorboards, she could see Kyrn’s green scales. She instinctually returned her head to a normal angle and spoke, moving her mouth as little as possible.
“Hey, Kyrn,” she whispered. “Any news?”
“Some good, some bad,” whispered Kyrn, sounding defeated. “The buzz between the guards is that they believe your story but they gotta wait for the dwarf to arrive. The dwarf will either be the mom or the daughter in the family, either Angela Earthmover or her daughter Miriam.”
“Shit. It would be nice to be sure,” Asp said more to herself than to Kyrn. Then, collecting herself, “Ages?”
“Middle age for Angela, late adolescence for Miriam.” Kyrn’s voice sounded irritated, almost angry.
“Okay,” said Asp. “ You coming back to the warehouse?”
Kyrn groaned. “I’m gonna keep Dancer company for a bit longer.”
“Tell him I’m coming for him. Tell him we’re all coming for him.” Without thinking, Asp winked, then shook her head at her mistake. She can’t see me winking from down there.
“You got it.” Asp could hear something of a smile in Kyrn’s voice. “Oooh, one other thing,” added Kyrn. “You gotta–”
A low scraping sound tore over Kyrn’s words as the front door swung open. The Captain of the Guard stood holding the door open.
“Miss Violet, were you planning on coming in? Or just standing here at the entrance?” The Captain beckoned inside.
“Umm, yes, I was coming to check in on the status of my friend,” said Asp, following him into his office and leaving Kyrn behind. “Have there been any developments?”
“Nothing I can report,” replied the Captain. “Our witness is still bound for town, set to arrive tomorrow around noon. Then we can clear all this up.”
“And this witness–” started Asp, all business. “I’ve been looking into the case against Dancer, and I understand that it’s either the mother of the family or the daughter coming. Can you confirm the identity of the witness?”
The Captain furrowed his brow. “That’s already more information than I’ve made available to the public. I know that there are risks in speaking with reporters, but I hoped that you and I could move past that.”
“Oh, I’m not here to upset the balance of justice–just make sure it balances right.” Asp mimed balancing a scale in the air in front of her. “Neither of us wants it to tip too far one way or the other.” The invisible scale collapsed, her hands falling onto the table.
“Of course,” he agreed. “You know, I’ve been wondering something.”
Asp spread her hands in front of her with an innocent smile. “Ask away.”
“What about our city attracted a reporter?” The Captain gestured all around him. “Why are you here instead of somewhere else?”
“I think that there’s a misconception here,” replied Asp. “As a reporter, I do not view it as my job to tell the stories we all know. I came here not because I knew I wanted to tell the stories here, but because I did not know yet what stories there were to tell.”
The Captain raised his eyebrows and breathed heavily. “There’s something about you that I don’t understand yet. I hope you stay around long enough for me to figure it out.”
Asp tried to look natural. “I plan to, even if I’m not sure what you mean.” She offered a big smile and turned toward the door. “See you tomorrow, sir.”
“See you tomorrow,” he said in reply, and Asp was out the door as the sun’s final rays began to fade.
-
Asp sat once again at the bar in Dunkly’s, sullenly nursing a brandy. Every time a stranger walked through the front door and into the bar, Asp would turn, expecting–no, hoping for–Wanda to come stepping inside. Outside, the sun had well and truly set, and Asp was growing nervous that Wanda would not return.
The first half hour was torture. Plenty of people came into the tavern, but none of them were familiar. The second half hour was worse. Dunkly’s was apparently home to a poker night tonight, and dozens of hopeful gamblers had gathered to drink and play the stakes. As the empty seats in the bar disappeared, so too did Asp’s confidence in the plan.
After over an hour, Asp paid up and started for the door. Her eyes were glued to the floor. Our decoy is out of commission. I wonder if I could pass as a dwarf. Maybe some extended boots and some bulky clothing . . . But then, it would be strange if Delia weren’t there for the identification. Dammit, Wanda.
In the threshold of the door, Asp slammed headlong into a patron entering the tavern.
“Oh, sorry,” mumbled Asp without looking. Look where you’re going, idiot!
“Delia!” said a familiar voice.
Asp looked up. It was Wanda. Asp’s demeanor changed–she stood straight up and cut a path back to the bar. She asked a customer to scoot down a seat so that she and Wanda could sit together. They ordered drinks and turned toward one another like long-time partners in crime.
“Well,” whispered Asp, “what’s the word? Are you in it to help us and stick it to the guards?”
“I think so,” said Wanda, her eyes darting around“I can do most of what you said.”
Asp resisted frowning. “What can’t you do?”
Wanda was far more animated than earlier. Something had changed for her. But what?
“I can’t blame the other newtkin. I don’t know them, and I don’t want to punish them without knowing them.”
Conscience is such an annoying thing. Use it against her. Asp put on a pitiful look. “The Curator? He’s done horrible things.” She paused and adopted a pained look. “To me, even. I tried to work with him, and it was clear he only wanted me around for . . . other reasons?” Asp pointed down at her body in a vague and uncomfortable gesture. “He even tried to blackmail me when I refused.”
“He did all that?” asked Wanda, sitting open-mouthed before and after her question.
“And the guards won’t listen,” continued Asp as though Wanda had never spoken. “I’ve been to the guardhouse twice a day for the last two days trying to get something done, and they won’t.” Asp slumped on her stool. “Oh, Wanda, don’t you see? If you identify the Curator, then you stop the injustice of our friend being punished and you correct the injustice of the Curator’s wrongdoings.” She looked defeated. “I know that what I’m asking seems questionable, but I know that it’s the only way to do right in this situation.”
Wanda listened, wide-eyed. She moved to speak and stopped short, then tried again. “I had no idea. I’m sorry, Delia.” Wanda placed her forefinger and middle finger on her collarbone, and when she withdrew them, holding her blouse’s neckline down a few inches, Asp could see a wicked-looking scar there. “I have known injustice like what you are describing, and I know the laws don’t protect us.” Wanda’s face changed from sadness to anger. “You can count on my help.”
“I’m so pleased to hear that,” said Asp, patting Wanda’s hand. “Listen, here’s half now.” She pushed a stack of crowns down the bar to Wanda. “And I’ll give you the other half–”
Wanda pushed the golden coins back to Asp. “No. I’m going to help because you deserve the help. One woman to another.”
Asp nodded and felt a terrible pang in the back of her mind. This isn’t right. Don’t mix this poor woman up in all this. What has she done? But she shook her head to right her mind.
“Woman to woman, thank you,” said Asp. “Now here’s the deal: bright and early tomorrow morning, you leave town via the main gate. You walk until you reach the first road sign for the ships to and from the eastern Myriad. Then you turn around and come back to town and go straight for the guardhouse. I’ll find you before you get there and make sure you’re in proper order–I’ll tell you the name you’re using and all that, maybe change your appearance a little. But once we’re in town again, you do not know me. Okay? I’m just a random slightkin you’ve never seen before. Got it?”
Wanda had nodded throughout Asp’s instructions. “Walk until the sign, come back, you’ll tell me my name later, I don’t know you,” she repeated. “Let’s burn some corrupt assholes,” she added with glee.
Asp could tell that Wanda wanted company, and so she stayed and had a few drinks and pretended to have several more. By the end of the night, she and Wanda had ended up the last customers there. Asp helped Wanda hobble drunkenly to the door, and the bartender motioned for Asp’s attention. Asp left Wanda leaning against the wall outside the tavern and returned to the bar.
“I heard about your little plan,” said the bartender, a nasty smile creeping over his face. “You’re gonna screw over the guards.”
Asp slumped. She had been quiet throughout the night, but Wanda had spoken with more and more volume as she had gotten drunker. C’mon, you can talk your way out of this.
“Oh yeah?” she said, defiance in her voice. “That leaves you two options. Report us–nothing in it for you. Leave it be–also nothing in it for you, but you haven’t made an enemy.”
“Or option three–you pay me for my silence,” said the bartender, his eyes wolf-like.
Asp’s gaze fell to the floor. “How much?”
“Three crowns,” he said, holding out a hand, waiting.
Asp fished out three golden crowns from the stack that Gregorio had given her. Wanda does the job for free but still costs us money. Go figure.
“Nice doing business with you,” said the bartender as he slipped the coins into his purse.
“Yeah, have fun with that,” Asp said, slipping back outside.
“Wha was tha?” slurred Wanda.
“Oh, just settling up the tab.” Asp patted Wanda on the hip to reassure her.
Wanda nodded, and her movements were cartoonish. “Oh. Hey Delia, wanna know a secret?”
Distracted as she guided Wanda through town, Asp said, “Sure. What is it?”
“You’re mah bess fren.” Wanda hugged Asp as they walked. “Am I yer bess fren?”
Asp thought of Iris leaping in the window just before supper every day and hoped that the little girl who had her now was taking good care of her. She reached for the collar in her pack, then realized that it would not be there and stopped short.
“Deal-ya, am I yer bess fren?” demanded Wanda.
“My very best friend,” Asp replied, and Wanda was too drunk to notice the tear in Asp’s eye, Iris lying curled up on her lap in her imagination.
You can read the next chapter here!
No comments:
Post a Comment