Startup 77a: Meanwhile

Meanwhile, just after midnight

Janna’s fingers were long, delicate, and terribly pale. She seemed to enjoy the feeling of Sandara’s thick red hair between her fingers, and it was a pleasant enough sensation. Hardly the most pleasant thing the elf had managed to do with them in the last several minutes, but enjoyable enough. Her hair also made for an excellent handle to grind Sandara’s face into her crotch, which she’d started doing the moment she’d caught onto Sandara’s game.

“You come to me on a work night with questions?” Janna demanded, “Oh, you paid for my time, but information costs extra.”

Sandara worked away at the little bean. She didn’t actually know how sensitive Janna was, honestly. With that said, this was pretty clearly not about Janna’s pleasure. She was getting wet, but not exceptionally so, and Sandara wasn’t about to try hard for a lady who wasn’t even going to appreciate it. With a gentle tug, Sandara was pulled away from Janna’s lower lips.

“Tell me,” Janna said, “how exactly could a woman like you be so bad at this?”

Sandara smiled up at her.

“Alright, you caught me.” She said, “My heart’s just not in it. You figured out what I wanted, but I’ve got to say you’re not very good at being on top. Too physical without enough muscle to really back it up.”

Janna raised a nearly invisible eyebrow. As light as her skin was, her blonde hair was far paler. Nearly white, and wispy in a way that Sandara imagined was a nightmare to care for. It gave the whole woman an ethereal, otherworldly look.

“No refunds.” She said, “Did you even fill out a standard briefing? I know I didn’t get one.”

“Nah,” Sandara answered with a wave of the hand. “Were you serious about a bit of gossip costing extra? Let’s get that out of the way before we try again. You were a lot better at being soft than hard.”

“It depends on the gossip.” Janna said, rolling her eyes. “Tell me what you want, and we can talk.”

“Crimson Cogward is the bosun on my ship.” Sandara explained. “Good man, if a bit dour. I’d like to know what’s going on between him and Linu. From what I hear she’s a decent sort, for a wasp. I’ve never heard him say a word against her. Frankly, I’d like to know what the problem is.”

“Oh, so you’re from that drow’s ship?” Janna asked, smiling faintly. “Well… I suppose I can tell you a bit. Come along, no need to kneel while we gossip. I’ll want to know what exactly you intend to do with this information, however.”

She patted upon the divan next to her, and Sandara crawled up. The two women lay intimately close, and it was certainly pleasant enough to give Sandara ideas for later. She lay a single hand on Janna’s slender hip while they spoke.

“The way I hear it, those two are really close, or at least they were.” Sandara said, “My captain is so devastatingly charming that I want to be sure that the air is cleared between Cog and Linu before Captain M’Dair accidentally sweeps her off her feet. For the sake of fairness and the safety of everyone involved, you see.”

Janna gave a small, knowing smile.

“Matchmaking, then? Then I suppose that yes, you had best know what you’re trifling with. Those two have been close since the day Linu was sold to the temple.” Janna explained. “As a rule, we don’t do that kind of thing as much as some temples. Honestly, we only have childcare for the sake of the girls who make mistakes on the job or when tea isn’t enough.”

“Makes sense.” Sandara said with a nod, “Callistria seems more like someone you convert to than someone you’re raised to.”

Janna snorted.

“We do have a fair few deconversions like Cog, yes. The majority, really.” She said, “Not to mention that quite a few of the women who choose to stay in this life aren’t fond of children. Dindreanne foisted those two off on me as often as not.”

Their thrice damned babysitter? No wonder the augury came up with all sixes.

“As much as I’d like to see a portrait of those two as little ones,” Sandara said, “how long is this part of the story going to take?”

“Pushy, aren’t you?” Janna said, “There’s something you need to know about catfolk if you are going to understand those two. They tend to adopt whatever culture they are raised to far more strongly than most species. It’s why housecats are so prized in Cheliax; a well raised housecat servant takes more pride in their role than most nobles. Linu is an awfully good Callistrian, despite being terribly soft underneath that hard front she puts up.”

Janna leaned in to brush her lips against Sandara’s ear.

“Arguably a better one than High Priestess Dindreanne, in fact.” She whispered, “The wasp savors her sting, but must move on after taking her vengeance. It’s an aspect of our lady that Dindreanne has always struggled with. You can tell because Enkrateia, her wasp, is such a mellow sweetheart.”

“So what, are you telling me they fight because Cog isn’t being a good little Callistrian?” Sandara said, wrinkling her nose with distaste.

“Hardly.” Janna said, “That’s part of it, I suppose, but mostly I think it’s that Linu is much easier to hurt than she pretends to be. She’s trying so hard to be a perfect Callistrian, and a perfect Callistrian is made of steel covered in silk.”

“And Cog can be a bit of a blockhead?” Sandara asked, “He does tend to get wrapped up in things.”

“Quite so.” Janna said, “So he hurts her, doesn’t notice, and she waits for an apology without ever admitting she was hurt. It’s happened a few times per year since around when they began their adolescence. She’d eventually decide she’d punished him enough to merit forgiveness, their relationship would be mended without any real input on his part, and I’m fairly sure he didn’t even know why she was mad most of the time.”

“So what, Cog needs to learn how to hold two things in his head at once and Linu needs to stop pretending she’s invulnerable?” Sandara asked, “We can work with that.”

“Ah yes. How easy,” Janna said dryly, “a young man needs to adjust his entire personality and a young woman needs to stop pursuing an ideal she’s been pursuing for most of her life, all while they spend months at a time apart from one another. Simple. What exactly are you planning on using this information for?”

“My companions and I are on a mission of mercy.” Sandara said, placing a hand over her heart. “To make sure everyone is happy with who they are with. So, what do I owe you?”

As she spoke, Sandara’s other hand gently crept down the slender elven woman’s stomach. It was, she imagined, quite obvious what coin she’d prefer to pay with.

“I’m sure we can come up with something.” She said, “Just be sure you don’t hurt them. All of us old hags are really quite fond of those two.”

The two women kissed, and things were just starting to get interesting when the door slammed open. Sandara looked up and saw Linu, hair adorned with ribbons, stripping off an outfit made of thin leather straps, buckles, and little else. She tossed a leather collar at Janna that had the word “pet” stenciled into it.

“Janna, cover for me with Ferdinand. Get Marvin to lend you my face and do the accent as best you can. Let him slap you around and he should be happy.” She said crisply, then turned to Sandara, “You’re from the Enterprise, yes? It’s under attack, supposedly Cog is already injured. Move!”

••••••••••

Rova 28,

Early Morning,

IMS Abrogail’s Fury,

The Inner Sea

Paralictor Valeria Asperixus woke to the pained groans and twitching of her Mistress, jumping to prepare a tray even before she fully awoke. She brewed the coffee first, starting the enchanted kettle before anything else. Next came a shot of rum, imported from the south, and a syrup meant to deaden headaches. She idly wondered which one the admiral would reach for this time while she began to dress in her naval uniform. It was extremely unlikely that she’d be in a position to go back to bed after dealing with the situation, so she resigned herself to another morning with insufficient sleep.

The merge began while she was asleep, so it’s likely the memories are mixed in with dreams. On the other hand, she is taking quite a long time to assimilate. In all likelihood one of the older ones died, so probably the rum. She tends to develop quite a taste for it when she’s living in the Shackles.

With nothing better to do while she waited, Valeria prepared a notebook for later and groomed herself. She brushed her long grey hair before putting it back into its customary bun, and trimmed the unsightly fluff from the triangular ears atop her head. A housecat reflected upon her mistress, no matter how highly she might have been elevated, and Valeria had no intention of looking less than her best today.

Druvalia slowly surfaced and, as expected, swiped the rum without looking. It was in exactly the same place as always, naturally. She drank it all in one go, and started cursing under her breath.

“Was it a bad one?” Valeria asked, her voice cool and even, brushing twice more and picking up the notebook. “How urgent is the follow up?”

“Not terribly.” Druvalia said, blinking sleep from her eyes. “I just got tunnel vision on this one. I’ll want you to contact Mr. Plugg and confirm that he is returning to his assigned position, whatever orders my field agents might have given him.”

She shook her head with disgust while Valeria jotted down the orders.

“Unprofessional git.” Druvalia said, “It was Varossa, the me handling the drow situation. All I needed to do was imply he might be able to hurt M’Dair and he came running.”

“In all fairness, it was you giving the order and most don’t fully understand your… moods.” Valeria reminded her. “It’s entirely possible Mr. Plugg took your orders to mean it was a higher priority than it truly was. What assets were involved? Are Creed and that bard still in play?”

“Yes, yes. I also have a new one who will hopefully be worth the trouble.” Druvalia said. “A cleric devoted to Vishgurv.”

Valeria raised her eyebrows.

“That could be rather useful indeed.” She said, “I didn’t know he could do that anymore. Are you quite certain that thing is contained?”

“For now.” Druvalia said, yawning and switching to the coffee. “I’ll need to make inquiries tonight in any event. Valeria, did you know there’s an arcane spell that can completely eliminate the need for sleep?”

“Yes, I believe you said Captain M’Dair could cast it in your last report.” Valeria said, “Before you ask, no, my inquiries have not yielded a scroll yet. It seems like quite a rare spell indeed.”

“Damnation,” Druvalia said with a yawn. “I suppose it was too much to ask. It would have been nice to have available.”

“A shame you didn’t elect to induct Mr. M’Dair.” Valeria said, her tone neutral. “If he managed to kill you he must be at least moderately competent.”

Druvalia snorted and downed the headache remedy.

“Too soft, and pushy about it. I’d need to keep him at arms length and if he got nosy he might turn on me.” Varossa said. “If it was just that he might still be worth the attempt, but with all the rest?”

“As you say, my Lady.” Valeria said, “How many casts of Sending will be needed today?

“Load up on them.” Druvalia said with a sigh, “This is going to be a long week. Oh, and make a note. I’ve seen what those **** soldiers from Rampore are capable of now, and I think they might actually be reasonably priced. Even better, I’ve found out where they are actually from. If we lock down that connection in Heslandaena we might want to divert some of our budget there.”

••••••••••

Rova 28, Early Morning

The Magpie Princess, Kelizar’s Domain

Jan’Nai felt the curse wash over her when she brought out Nendra’s tea. Perhaps it was because Jan’Nai had let too much rain into it while running from below deck to the small awning the ladies sat under, or perhaps the bitch had simply wanted to cause pain. Whatever the reason, Jan’Nai simply accepted it. The agonizing magic entered her body and was swallowed up by the hungering void where her magic had once nestled beneath her heart. She felt pain, but that was the void. Nendra’s fits of pique didn’t hurt Jan’Nai any more. She faked a wince while presenting the tray to Sinkitah.

The human woman, apparently some kind of surface equivalent to a Daughter, was bankrolling this whole operation. Jan’Nai thought she might be enchanted; she had no idea what Nendra could offer this woman that would justify this level of effort and expense. The Magpie Prince was no merchant vessel, so it wasn’t as if Mistress Bekyar was lending out a personal yacht. Jan’Nai had no way of knowing, of course. She couldn’t risk it, even if she felt new magic filling her every time Nendra hurt her. Just as she could only guess at what Mistress Vorys was doing. Some kind of necromantic ritual, she gathered.

“You’re quite sure you’ll be able to track him?” Nendra demanded, “We’ve lost far too much time.”

“Better than month old tavern tales or the word of a goblin.” Vorys called over her shoulder. “The spirits of this place seem to recognize his name. They claim he stole something, and if any of them knows more it’ll be the Captain of the Saber’s Kiss. Honestly it’s surprising he wasn’t the dominant spirit; he feels strong. Luckily he’s been drained recently.”

Mistress Sinkitah sniffed disdainfully as Vorys returned to her ritual. The wind blew, strangely cold and rancid.

“My agents should be able to keep him bogged down in Quent.” She said, “I still say we need to go there directly. We can shadow him easily enough.”

“No.” Nendra said, “I want to know where his destination is. If we follow directly and he slips away again, we will be one step behind for the whole voyage.”

Jan’Nai kept her ears open, though she wondered why exactly. She didn’t really have any way to contact Emrys. She’d always assumed he’d get in contact with her, but he’d been so strange. Almost mad by the end, when he’d offered her the power to pursue her vengeance.

After her magic had been taken from her, Emrys had made her an offer. She would watch Nendra, and she would be saved eventually. It seemed a hollow hope, but then again she’d heard Mistress Dovnu complaining about him stealing several high value slaves on his way out. Perhaps Nendra was right, and he did want to take Jan’Nai as a concubine. She was shocked to discover that the idea didn’t repulse her anymore. She’d never wanted to be a shadow, like a common man. Ma’ra had accepted that as the best she could hope for, but Jan’Nai had higher hopes once.

When that dragon, Kelizar, had offered to take Jan’Nai as his tribute she had felt her heart leap in spite of herself. He’d been as arrogant as any matriarch, but had looked at her like a person while he’d been on the ship. Nendra had sent him away with a set of golden rings instead, and for a moment he’d caught Jan’Nai’s eyes and there had been a question there. She’d shaken her head. She wasn’t done here yet.

She watched Vorys with downcast eyes, feeling pain just beneath her skin. Whatever Emrys was, he wasn’t a sorcerer. Sorcerers don’t reach into the hollowed out part of your soul that once held magic and plant something new. The thing inside of Jan’Nai reached its roots out into her body, like thorny vines beneath her skin that hummed with life whenever Nendra tried to hurt her. Jan’Nai felt pain constantly, and the flashes of stimulation from Nendra just didn’t mean anything next to that.

Mistress Vorys called forth a silhouette, barely visible in the dim light of dusk, and demanded answers. It writhed as chains of shadow wrapped around it, squeezing tight.

“I’ll talk! I’ll talk!” He moaned, “He has stolen the Horn of Riches from me, and old Warvil’s horn was somewhere on his ship. He’ll want to find the Horn of Freedom next, mark my words. I can tell you where to find it, if you release me!”

“You certainly will.” Vorys said, holding up a mirror.

More strands of shadow lashed out and ensnared the spirit’s body, dragging him into the mirror. Jan’Nai wrinkled her nose at the man’s wailing. Nendra had much to answer for, but for now Jan’Nai needed to refill the cups and take away the tray.

Sometimes Jan’Nai wondered whether the pain was any worse than the hollowness had been. On its own it might have been, but it was not without compensation. The thing inside of Jan’Nai was not feeding on her. It was becoming part of her, and filled her with a sensation she’d never thought she’d feel again. Magic.

The spells weren’t the same, but she knew instinctively how to cast a dozen spells just the same as when her own blood had sung to her. Spells to kill using physical **** instead of raw magic, which would bypass the defenses of a noble. Jan’Nai recognized what she was becoming as Nendra watered the soil with pain and hatred. She was a knife pointed at Nendra’s back, but she intended to live after striking. So she waited, for now.

••••••••••

Gonna be another bonus chapter bonanza. You’ll be getting meanwhile part 2 in the middle of next week.