-From Canticles: 3:29-30
“There, just about done.” Delre sighed, cracking her neck.
“Good.” Lukas said, tucking in another one of the smaller kids who had a bad slash to her forehead. He was scooping a poultice of something green out of his mortar, smearing over the wound with two fingers. “Thanks again Delre.”
“Don’t worry about it.”
The Dvundae wiped the sweat from her brow with the back of her sleeve, inspecting her work so far. With earth and stone she had formed a waist high plinth of sorts, with a ridge of stone around the edge just the right size. And it was right in the center of Lukas’s new infirmary.
“Ain’t half bad, all things considered.” She said with a slight smile.
Funny how projects always sooth the soul.
The scuttle had been heating up for a week now, to the point where it was glowing red hot, and only getting hotter, making it obvious that she needed a new way to store the coals.
Now to figure out how I can get forgebrick. That was a whole other sack of moles.
The stone and earth would last at least a month before they started to break down, crack and bake away from the heat. A great improvement from only having a few more days before the skuttle finally melted.
She would have done it sooner, days ago, but other things had taken precedence.
Their wounded needed a place to rest where they could lay down and keep warm. It had been full shift and mandatory overtime for all of the able-bodied members as they quickly built cots and pallets. For a month. Everyone was bushed.
Treyvor was the only one still going full tilt, and he had even been pulling double and triple duty gathering enough blankets and cloths. Everything from burlap sacks to unattended laundry in the Old City had been snatched by the Tomtar to add to the cause.
At first, the kids fit enough to work had complained and griped at the sudden increase in their chores. But Del had put her foot down.
Sure, they were underground, and the earth insulated things, but what people never seemed to understand was that worked both ways. Things got chilly away from the sun, and all that insulation kept it that way.
That, and the place isn’t that far from the fucking river.
There was a path to the outlet for the sewers and there was only a set of bars with a door to keep people out.
And the door must have been picked open hours after being installed and left for decades. So long that it was rusted in place, only partially ajar. Barely wide enough for a person to fit through. But even if it was closed, the wind would howl through those bars and up the tunnels to their hideout.
And the breezes stank from the sewage, their existence implying that there were other openings somewhere else in the undercity.
Makes sense. She checked how level the plinth was with her hand, feeling it, adding a bit more mud and smoothing it flatter, not wanting the aethercoals to pool in one section or another. Wear out one section prematurely.
Even if there weren’t any other secret ways back up to the surface, which she knew wasn’t the case, there had to be other vents out at the very least. Otherwise, gases would build up under the city and cause the authorities to look for the cause. Either because the gas would kill the workers, or just blow up when something sparked under there. Leveling some densely populated tenement in the process. Just one more thing that the Dwarf knew better than the others.
And the last thing we need now.
And even if they could build a door or wall it off, there were other reasons not to. First being it might draw attention that they didn’t want. Second, it was an escape tunnel for them, a way out or in that was relatively hidden. And third, letting out excess heat, especially once the bathhouse was up and running.
If the boilers for that were going to be as big as the horn-heads said they would be, there was a possibility that the space would become an oven without airflow, the exact opposite problem to their current one. And Del thought that they might just have to be bigger.
All that space, open to the sky out there? They’re going to get told by the engineers to add capacity somehow.
That last one wasn’t a guarantee, but the Dvundae knew it was best to plan for it. And in the moment, it was the lack of heat that was the issue anyway. It had been damn near frosty last night because of that breeze. Which had shut up all the earlier complaints quick enough.
‘Water, shelter, then food. You can starve a little but not if you’re parched and shivering.’
That had been one of Tosid’s sayings.
Hope you are doing good, you old fart. Something more enjoyable than this.
Del looked over at the wounded as she smoothed out the last parts of the coal receptacle with rough hands, running a thumbnail in between the stones and bricks as one little nod to the need for artistry in everything. She knew that if they didn’t figure something out soon, many of them would die.
From infection of all things. Like they were some primitive backwater in the Great Swamp.
They were short on everything, but most of all, they were short on coin. Most of their stores had been lost in their exodus from the Bookkeeper’s assault.
Delre looked up and saw Jon guiding the others through the steps of making a simple door, explaining what to look for on the next supply run, and how to most efficiently use what they had. His background as a mason and knowledge of general construction coming to the fore.
“See if there are any metal containers, or better still, stoves or the like. We need them for cooking and heat obviously, but also for washing too.” He said, and he lifted a finger for emphasis, “And if you are grabbing firewood, make sure it isn’t treated. That’s toxic to burn. Once we get some ways to safely have fire in here, that’ll make everything else easier.”
That was the upside to the space. Like the mansion, there was enough left of the old buildings and construction that they could just find the fittings and hardware. Once they did that, that would make the place hospitable again.
If only it was as big, though. Even with their losses, the gang had been forced to live cheek by jowl, straining already strained nerves.
That was why it was only now that Delre had managed to find the time to deal with the aethercoals. With them in the infirmary, it would help heat up the space where their wounded were recovering at least. Give them a fighting chance.
Jon had been a big help, as was Dan, who was assisting him. The shorter man did occasionally stop to take some time to play with the kids, keep their spirits up, that sort of thing.
Dan also took particular care with Tim, enticing him with riddles and often offering to do some sparring. The boy had sobered up for the time being, though he had taken the losses quite hard. And they needed him and his innate skill with locks if they were going to recover from this.
Rose, for her part, had been in constant discussions with Madam Scarlett about mutual support, common interests of their organizations, and possibly some help. Del wasn’t sure what had been bargained for, but she did know it had gotten them food at the very least.
Nothing spectacular, and still not enough, but it was something. Should make some plots here underground. She wondered if they could find spore to use over in the Dregs.
Del used some mitts that she had snagged from one of the alleyways up above to pick up the skuttle. Not thick enough, they were just old oven mitts from a bakery, but she just needed them to hold out for a few seconds.
The coals inside the container lit the room with a blue hue, and it was cozy in there with them on the floor, and that only increased once she poured them into her false forge.
Fsssss!
“Fuck!” she snarled, the glowing handle of the skuttle burnt through the one mitt all the way to her fingers, searing them with a sweet smell and bright white smoke before she managed to throw the thing out the empty window. It clanged loudly against the stone ground, warping out of shape as it did, still glowing.
“Gods damned mages…” She grumbled, pulling the mitt off and glaring at the fresh burn there.
“What now..?” Lukas’s voice was tired, his cracked glasses glinting in the candlelight. That’s another thing we need, lights. She could see fine, but she knew that their Alchemist, Healer, and Acolyte of Il’taura needed something brighter to best do his work.
Del glanced at the full cots. “It’s nothing, Lu, just a burn.” She said.
“Let me look.”
“The hells you will, I’m fine Lu. Just gonna blister, leave the medicine for the kids already.” It had already done more than that, but like everything else they were short on healing supplies.
Lukas glared down at her, “Now! Del!”
Before Del knew what she was doing, she had her hand held out to him.
“Tidrik Lu, it’s always scary when you get stern.” She chuckled, patting her pockets. It was always so odd to hear his soft voice become imperative like that.
“Smoke in here and I will get more than stern.” Lukas said flatly, though there was only exhaustion in his words.
“Right sorry.”
He sighed, and took it, holding her there. “You need to remember that Torvik isn’t good for kids Del, at least, non-dvun kids.”
“I know, I know.”
“And yet I need to keep reminding you.”
“Sorry.”
“Always forgiven.” He looked closer and she picked up the candle so he could see better. “Thanks.”
He examined it for a moment before he reached into another satchel and pulled out another wooden salve container. “This is pretty bad, and we need you. So you are getting help whether you like it or not.”
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She could smell it, her voice lowering as she felt her temper flare. “Kiphos? Lukas, where did you-“
“The Syndicate members have it. I offered some of my services to some of their wounded as well in trade.” He shrugged, smearing it on and wrapping it in a boiled strip of cloth for a bandage. “We needed it. And Rose knows I traded for it.”
“If some of these kids find out…” She looked over at Tim. Damn it all. As if there wasn’t enough to keep track of.
“I mix it with a bittering agent Del. And it’s hidden.”
“Not locked?”
“How would that stop Tim?”
“Fair.” Del looked over at the kid, seeing him over by himself, staring into the dark void beyond their camp. “Too bad we don’t have something to help the kids in the way they need it most.” She muttered.
“We need safety first Del. And for that we need warmth, and about twenty more workers for shelters.” Lukas sighed. “If only so we can start having you, Jon, and Dan head out on jobs again. Not just Treyvor.”
Tydrik. She’d have to solve their shelter issues today.
She placed a hand on the young man’s shoulder, looking up at him. “I’ll see what I can manage.”
She strode out of the infirmary, wishing she had a smoke and a drink to help her think. Her burn already felt better at least.
Tydrik, guide this toss of my thoughts… She needed all the inspiration she could get.
“Hmmm? Wazzat?” Tydrik squinted down His beak of a nose. “Oh, you again… Ache in My Rump.” The Coinmaker smiled with crooked teeth, reading the toolmarks on the Clanless One. “Oh… So the Mistress of the Tides has plans for you? Odd. Fine. I'll help.”
Tydrik reached out and spun the globe, or did He spin His space around it? Whichever, He looked down into the huge swamp at the equator. His lips pursed in discontent. “Confound it, Thief. Guess that can't be helped either.” His smile returned, wider than ever as He scratched the black stubble on his chin with thick fingernails, moving to the bushy muttonchops after.
“Plenty to shape here. So We'll just have to see.” He leaned back in towards the Swamp. Focusing. Not changing, not interrupting, but seeing what He would have to match to make the gears mesh correctly, if they could at all.
Fast asleep, Vivex curled tighter around her tail, up in a tree, head facing the trunk. The sun was yet to rise, though the sanguine fingers of dawn were crawling towards the horizon.
Move! Her Instinct shoved her forebrain, jerking her over the side of the branch!
Vivex wasn’t fully awake before she was swinging down out of the tree, wind whistling in her ears and a fern slapping her in the face.
Thwap!
Shit!
She snarled as she nearly missed the vine, clawed hands a little clumsy from the increased exhaustion from her activities the previous night.
CRACK!
Zegoth’s club smashed into the branch, right where she had been laying, the sound of it jarring her fully awake. The honed warrior heard her Tutor growl as she hung on to the vine, swinging around the side of the tree before heading out into the canopy.
Vivex grunted to herself.
It was a good idea, winding the vine up and around the trunk.
Smoother swing. Thrive! Her Instinct was overjoyed. She had thought it would keep her arms from being wrenched, and she had been correct!
It was the last day of the cycle, a smoothskin month, and the alternating schedule had taught her one thing above all else.
Be ready for an ambush.
So, on nights before it was Zegoth’s turn to have her in the morning, she had to sleep away from Tok. And last night, she had planned for the ambush, knowing this might be one of her last chances to prove herself to the angry male.
Vivex wasn’t sure what had woken her, but that wasn’t important. What was was she wouldn’t start the sparring session with a brutal beating, hindering her for the rest of the morning’s practice. She knew she could hide from the male, there was no fault in her camouflage. He was just very good at predicting her movements.
Vivex heard him behind her, loftier branches creaking and rustling as he ran to keep pace with her, searching for his own vine to intercept the Initiate.
She heard him snarl in rage and felt morning yellow pride in her mind, though she maintained her camouflage.
Hard to find a vine to swing from if I cut them all, isn’t it? Another thing she had done before bedding down.
Her Instinct glowed orange and yellow as it grunted.
All save one. And that was its own surprise.
See what he thinks of this…
Thrive!
She passed the other vine, reaching out and pulling it free. She had tied a bundle of moss and branches to it, making it look like a camouflaged form. It swung off in another direction, one that would break off several smaller branches as it went. A lure.
More! Her Instinct snarled. She knew not to trust only one plan anymore.
She let go of her own vine, wind whistling across her scales and landed in a pine tree, becoming the bark. The Initiate curled her palms over her claws to hide the bright wood underneath, flattening herself.
Holding completely still.
Listening….
Thu-Thum boom thum.
That was Tok waking. Vivex heard the far-off splash of him sliding into the river. His morning hunt.
Her Instinct growled slightly.
Radadaadadadadat..!
The Kingbills, off to the east, still nesting. She had taken joy in stealing some of their eggs the previous night after Zegoth’s latest lesson on tactics, managing to do so without getting caught by the colony this time.
The lessons had been about cavalry and horses. Fierce beasts despite being herbivorous from the sounds of it.
Focus!
Vivex listened harder.
Tuning out the sounds of the waking creatures.
The chittering of rous in the underbrush, the soft buzz of insects.
Getting to the little sounds… Almost but not quite hearing… the breeze…
A soft sigh… that changed! Moving around something that wasn’t there before.
She cracked open one eye, the barest sliver, then a tiny bit wider to better examine hues.
There!
She could see him.
Zegoth’s hue was off ever so slightly from that of the slowly brightening sky. Just barely the wrong kind of purple.
And if that is his head…
Looking at the decoy.
She felt yellow pride fill her as she slowly moved into the cover of the needles. Circling around after she broke line of site and scrubbing herself with some of them. The sticky sap unpleasant but necessary.
Zegoth would disapprove of that, saying that she would be better off finding Azasthfruga, a slime-mold that grew in a multitude of environments that was more universal.
No time to find anything specific.
Her Instinct grunted.
She had another plan though.
Slowly she made her way back up the pine tree. Claw over claw. Shifting to be on the opposite side of her Tutor, getting to a much higher perch and looking down on him. Making it much easier to observe him.
Still silent, she judged the distance, planning out her descent.
There, there, then there.
Agreed! Go!
She leaped off, sailing out and down. The Initiate had drawn one of her clubs, leaving the other hand free, the wind whistled in her ears as she let her eyes open wide.
She caught a thick branch, not digging in her claws, just letting it swing her out and slow her slightly.
He twitched, his pattern starting to shift.
She snagged the vine next, changing her momentum to be even more horizontal. He was still turning.
Their eyes met, and they collided!
Thwack! Thwack! Thwack!
She beat him over the head! Snarling. Gripping his shoulders with her feet as she landed three solid blows! Club lifting four a fourth!
He roared, the green in his black and red fading and reestablishing itself as he threw her off.
Crack!
She yelped as his club smashed into her shoulder, and she scrambled back into the canopy, knowing that they weren’t done.
“Took you long enough.” He hissed, and she heard him snort out blood before giving chase, “Same as all the other times, runt! If you can’t do that again before your meal with the ambassador, it is only mediocre! This is your last day!” His prefixes were gleeful.
Wants me to fail.
Win!
She was back on the ground, and dove into the stream, swimming as quick as she could to cross before it joined the main river, scrubbing against the course sand as she went, really despising the feel of the pine sap.
Vivex knew it was washing off the scent of the pine needles. She was counting on it.
The Initiate reached the other side and knew he had seen her, knowing how her tutor hunted by this point.
He’ll guess that I am looking for another hiding spot.
Will search high. Her Instinct agreed, filling her legs as she sprung over a fallen log.
But expect low. She agreed with her hindbrain.
The warrior kept moving, leaning forward and balancing with her tail as she sprinted farther and farther away, for once letting herself go full tilt. Finding her old tracks and racing through them. This idea she had gotten from Gekki and Zathaan. The reek of them giving her a cunning plan.
She had spent every other night for the back half of the cycle crisscrossing the area on the other side of the stream, marking it with her scent, purposely leaving a lot of tracks in the mud. Training her speed, helping her memorize the area, and also making it difficult to track her there.
Has to work. It was the day they would set out. And she had a feeling that if she didn’t manage it, it would be impossible to try something so elaborate again while they were on the move. And he spoke as if this was the last day to try before he makes up his mind!
She turned sharply to the left, running up into a hollow log before leaping across onto some ruins, snagging her disguise, draping it over herself.
She heard him snarl, and quickly ran to her planned hiding spot. Pulling the hood over her head. Like Keshka did.
And she waited. Ready to ambush him.
Soft rustling… Zegoth running through the grove of cypress trees. Hissing and padding through the trampled landscape.
She saw his eyes slide right over her, and hope surged in her chest when they didn’t linger.
Now! Her Instinct gnashed, gleeful for any chance to club the exacerbating male. And she could, just sneak closer, then burst out and strike.
No… Let him get closer. She had found an interesting little predator during her runs, which had given her the idea for this disguise. Her Instinct had named it a Ghoulweaver. A spider that hid under a little wall of leaves and twigs. Launching out to snatch any prey that walked over the tripwires of its web.
Why waste the energy, he is bound to get closer anyway. Less time for him to react as well.
So Vivex continued to wait, muscles coiled tight.
She heard him moving. Searching.
That’s the log… She could hear the sort of hollow sound of him moving through it.
A sort of crumbly sound of his claws on the ruined wall.
He was behind her to her left, she could hear his hissing annoyance.
Now! She almost twitched, the impulse from her Instinct was so strong.
No! Just a bit more… Make it a forward spring. It would be the difference of fragments of time, but each added to her chances of success.
Thrive!
She heard his soft growl.
He moved forward, right in front of her!
She exploded forward, out from under the netting covered in cypress bark and moss in complete silence! A club in each hand!
Thump!
Her toes gripped his belt, claws pressing against his thick hide as she knocked him prone against the ground! Making him snarl in surprise.
Thwack!
She lifted her club high for another strike right on the top of his head. She had done it!
Crack!
She bellowed her cry of victory!
Whack!
Beating him like a drum!
With a roar he spun in the dirt, a death roll like a croc, knocking her down to the ground. She tried to stand but his clawed hand latched around her throat, squeezing tight, making her eyes bulge.
“You…” He growled, that green line flickering still, his claws tightened.
Vivex strained for air, kicking at him with her feet, swinging her clubs, but his arm was too long for her to reach his head. She dropped them and clawed at his fingers, prying, straining, her eyes rolling back! Wanting to get away, finding that she couldn’t.
The pressure lessened as their eyes met, and she could see the urge to kill her wane in the colorations around his yellow eyes. Maroon annoyance replaced Zegoth’s black and red. He tossed her to the ground so hard that she bounced, coughing and gasping.
“You prepared the ground. You led me here.”
She hacked, wheezing, feeling that his claws had punctured her scales and she was bleeding a little.
He hissed thoughtfully, watching her for a moment before standing.
“Fine. You can learn it seems.” He looked down at her for a moment. Hissed in annoyance, only then walking away.
“Come, Initiate.” He growled over his shoulder to her.
Still coughing, she staggered up onto her feet.
Bastard.
Kill!
He looked over his shoulder, and their eyes met again.
“Control your Instinct, little Initiate.”
She clamped her jaw shut, squashing the snarling hate from her hindbrain, wishing she had not left her knife with Tok. “I am, Tutor.” She said, having gotten good at using prefixes of respect she didn’t mean.
“And what to your Tutor do you say, for spending the time to teach you?” He spoke in the smoothskin tongue.
“Many thanks, Tutor Zegoth.” She managed, croaking it out, “What is our next lesson.” She started following him, still occasionally coughing.
He… Grunted.
She nearly tripped. It was the first time he had ever shown actual approval.
“We integrate. Your skills with the language can receive honing through talking it.”
She slipped back into the truetongue to emphasize the respectful prefixes. “If I may, my Tutor.”
He paused, eyes narrowing. Then grunted again.
“ ‘Speaking it.’ Would be the correct phrasing,” his eyes narrowed further and Vivex added quickly, “from what the Ambassador has taught.”
He hissed, maroon flickering around his eyes again. “Come then, let us… be speaking this foul-idiot-language.” His tail moved in the dehk-zuir, and Vivex felt her frustration with the male grow. It had been too fast for her. Something like “also.”
So they want me to waggle my tail all the time too? She hated that idea. It… hurt. And she was bad at it, and she disliked displaying that she was bad at things.
“I… struggle with the dehk-zuir, Tutor.”
He growled, snapping his jaws. “Try harder.”
As if I wasn’t already trying. She forced her default coloring to remain though, something that frustrated her to no end as well.
She knew it was important, especially as a Greenscale.
Greenscales were scouts, and often needed to remain silent, and often hand their hands full either with weapons, or the branches of the canopy. Having the ability to converse or signal to the brood was crucial in carrying out proper engagements with any enemies.
She had to learn it, and she only had a short amount of time left.
Running as fast as I can.
To stay in the same place. Her Instinct was as maroon as Zegoth.