The Empress of Beasts, page 88
part #13 of The Wandering Inn Series
It was hard being in the Ullsinoi faction—everyone was full of tricks, some of them really stupid, like the name of their faction. You couldn’t even get in if you didn’t figure out the idiotic joke within the first ten minutes of hearing the name. Frankly, that was probably a good bar to set anyways. But they had real interests, ones Palt agreed with. And now he’d have to carry them out. Somehow.
The Centaur gritted his teeth, chewing the cigar. He’d have to help repair the mess Montressa had made. She was obsessed with Pisces. Small wonder for what he’d done, but still. This was a disaster. Now they had the Watch on their tails, the [Innkeeper] they were supposed to make a priority hated their guts and they’d caused trouble for Wistram. What was he supposed to do? Maybe—
The Centaur was so preoccupied he didn’t see the shape making a beeline towards him. He only saw the figure too late and stopped before he ran her over.
“Pardon m—”
He looked down and saw Erin Solstice. She stared up at him. The Centaur dropped his cigar and reared.
“Gyaaah! Don’t hurt me!”
He turned to run. Erin grabbed Palt’s tail as he tried to cast [Invisibility]. He nearly kicked her!
“Hold on, hold on! I’m not gonna stab you!”
“That’s a specific threat! Let go of my tail!”
Palt whirled. Erin let go and he trotted backwards. His watchers had stopped, warily. Palt eyed Erin. He knew what she’d done! She’d stabbed Beza and nearly killed Isceil with a pot of sauce! He backed up, but she followed.
“We’re allowed to be in Liscor! If you attack me—”
“Oh, be shush, you. I’m not gonna hurt you. But if you cast a spell on me, I’ll stab you.”
Erin put a hand on the knife at her belt. Palt raised his hands instantly.
“No magic! I’ve done nothing! I wasn’t even part of the group that attacked your friend! My name’s Palt! I’m sorry for everything! I’m just here to help find you lot.”
He winced. Damn! Gnolls! He cast a [Hush] spell around him and Erin. She stared up at him.
“Yeah. I heard. But you cast a spell on Selys.”
“I—look, Montressa’s my leader. I have to obey her. I know it was bad. But [Mind Blank] doesn’t harm her.”
“Pisces is her friend. She watched you beat him up.”
“I didn’t do a thing.”
“Except cast the spell.”
He looked at her and trotted back a few steps.
“Please don’t stab me. I’ll apologize to her. Really.”
“You’d better. Her grandmother was a Gold-rank adventurer. She’ll kill you.”
Palt paled. Old people with high levels were the worst.
“I’ll do that. Miss Erin, is it? I’m very sorry. On behalf of Wistram, I apologize. My team is filled with idiots. But that Pisces fellow is wanted by Wistram. I was there when the undead came and slaughtered a bunch of [Mages].”
“Yeah. I heard about that. But he was let go. They had a trial. So why’s Wistram after him? Is it just Montressa?”
Palt shuffled his hooves. He stared down at Erin. He had a sense she was high-level. She had a certain intensity about her. He felt a surge of trepidation. And hope. She was speaking to him. So the Centaur made an ingratiating gesture. He rummaged in his saddlebags.
“Miss Solstice? Again, I’m very sorry. If I can make it up to you at all—allow me to introduce myself. I’m Palt, an [Illusionist]. My team was sent to escort you back to Wistram. I realize that holds little weight, but allow me to—may I make you a gift? I have some dreamleaf, which I understand your people call, uh, marjinaula.”
“Marijuana? Wait, you mean weed?”
Erin recoiled as he offered her some dried leaves. Palt faltered.
“Wait, are you one of the people who don’t like it?”
“No! Are you a stoner?”
“Damn—er—well, that was an offer of good faith! It’s relaxing! I have tobacco—”
The Centaur realized he was digging himself further in. He stopped and spread his hands.
“Let me try again. Again. Anything you want, Miss Solstice, I can offer. I have a number of uh, aids for my magic. Relaxing. And I’m here to help. Truly. If there’s anything I can do, name it.”
He waited. Erin Solstice looked Palt up and down. He waited. At last, Erin nodded. She looked at Palt and spoke slowly.
“Tell me about…Montressa.”
——
Pisces slammed into his room, unable to speak properly with fury. He kicked the first pile of bones he saw, scattering them across the room, and then turned and blasted the wall with a few bolts of magic. Erin’s reinforced walls took the spells with little more than scorch marks. Pisces whirled around and bellowed.
“Those idiots. Fools! They were never good enough for my company. I should have never wasted my time on them.”
He tore across the room, looking for something else to break. The Bone Behemoth was gone, as well as the spell that Az’kerash had inscribed on its skull. But the notes of both had been recorded and Pisces had been studying them. Until today. Until his outing with Selys. Pisces stared down at his notes and then threw everything off his desk.
Quill, inkpot, paper, all of it went flying. Pisces strode around the room, shouting and cursing.
“This entire inn can burn. Everything and everyone in it!”
His name! They’d released his name! Those pustulant, arrogant, spineless fools in Wistram! His name. And a bounty—
Pisces pointed a finger. This time electric shots hit the far wall, bouncing off the window. He uttered his fury, wishing he could have stabbed that idiotic Drake through the head. Or the Minotauress. He remembered every kick, how they’d beaten him down. And they’d walked free! He should have killed them. The Centaur, the Selphid—
Montressa. Pisces stopped. He was panting. Her. She dared to come here and—he remembered the look on her face.
“Calvaron. He deserved it. They all did. All of their hidebound…”
Pisces paused. Then he turned his head. He remembered a Centaur, laughing and welcoming him into Wistram. He pushed down the emotion, remembering the others.
Too much. Enough. Pisces was done. He—he felt at his ribs. They were mending. But he still felt the pinpoints of pain if he pressed. He closed his eyes, and his bones began to mend. A [Necromancer] could do that to himself; he couldn’t snap bones at will, because other people had too much inbuilt resistance to those kinds of spells. But he could heal himself. No one else could do that, save for the highest-level [Healers] or spells or potions. He relished the thought of Wistram’s team suffering their fractured bones.
Just another thing they scorned him for. Them, and all the others. Even Ceria. How dare she? And Yvlon? He saw the way the others had looked at him. Necrophilia. They believed it. They were all trash. Worthless. Ceria, Yvlon, Ksmvr—Selys—Erin—
Pisces stopped. But the fury was overwhelming him. He stood in the center of his room, his eyes burning. His breath came in gasps. He hated them. They had ruined his life. It was always so. Always and always. He could trust no one.
Slowly, Pisces spoke. He had run so hot he was now cold. The words came out of him, slowly, bitterly, oozing toxins with every syllable.
“I care nothing for the living. They are all dust to me. I have seen the nature of humanity and it is rotten decay. Petty souls dragging each other down into eternity. Let them all die. Let them—”
The words were a litany. A curse. He had said that once. Az’kerash. When he renounced his humanity during his trial. Pisces had always read those words. Now, he believed them. Pisces searched for the little rat. He raised his arms. Let it all end! He’d leave. He’d leave and show them who he really was. He turned, looking—
And Pisces heard a small sound. A small, tiny whimper. He froze. It wasn’t coming from the rat perched on his dresser. No. It was a living sound, fueled by lungs. And it came from under his bed.
Something was under there. Snuffling. Pisces froze. He bent down and then he saw her.
A white shape. A little Gnoll, staring at him. Mrsha. She’d slunk into his room. Hidden under his bed. She was crying. Pisces stared at her. He opened his mouth. Fury talked for him.
“Get out. Get out! I don’t want to play! I don’t want—”
He pointed towards the door, raising his voice. Mrsha hid her face. Something rolled out in front of her. Pisces was about to shout. Then he saw what she’d been holding.
It was…a stick. Pointed at one end, easily grippable in one hand. Not a stick, in fact. He saw the magic in it. A wand. The wand Mrsha had stolen from him ages ago.
His wand. And tied to it, clumsily, with a Gnoll’s paws, a little yellow flower. Mrsha had been holding it in her paw. Now she sniveled, her nose and eyes running. She hid her face, scooting back under the bed, away from the furious Pisces. The wand was knocked further towards Pisces. The little golden flower was bent, the petals slightly bruised.
The [Necromancer] stared at the wand. He looked at it. And at Mrsha, wiping at her tears. He bent slowly, and she shivered away from him. Crying. She was crying because he’d shouted at her. Because he was shouting in general.
Because of what had happened. Pisces looked down at the wand. He looked at the little Gnoll. And suddenly, the fury went out of him. He was ashamed.
“Mrsha—”
She crawled away from him, to the furthest corner under the bed. Pisces sat down slowly. He was still angry. So angry he would have killed Isceil if the Drake popped into the room this moment. But anger burned hot only so long. Shame—now, shame grew. And Pisces’ conscience finally caught up with his mouth. He remembered what he’d said.
To Ceria. To Yvlon. To Ksmvr. To his team. Pisces stared ahead dully. They’d deserved it. That was what part of him whispered. They doubted him. They never trusted him. Not really. Yvlon had always looked at him with suspicion. Ceria still held his past against him.
But Yvlon had asked him to fix her arms. And Ceria had forgiven him. Pisces tried to be angry. But he couldn’t help but remember as he stared down at the flower, around his room. They had gone through Albez. He had gone into the crypts for her. They were his team.
He hadn’t wanted it! It had been a thing of convenience! But—they’d welcomed him. Erin had. And Ksmvr. Pisces felt his eyes stinging. Of all people, to say that to him. Almost as bad as—
He looked down. Mrsha had put her paws over her eyes and water was trickling down into her white fur. She didn’t move as he slowly got up. Pisces hesitated, knelt, picked up the wand.
“Mrsha. I’m not angry.”
She quivered, her back to him. Her tail didn’t move and she held still. Pisces looked at the wand.
“Is that a gift for me? It’s quite thoughtful. I did not mean to shout at you. Will you come out?”
Not a response. Mrsha was crying. And she’d been the one who knew he and the others were captured. Erin had told him. If it weren’t for her, he might have been in the box. And he’d shouted at her.
Pisces felt a lump in his throat. He opened his mouth, searching for something to coax her out. And the words came out. What he really meant.
“I’m sorry.”
Mrsha stopped crying. She turned her head slowly. Pisces looked at her.
“I’m sorry for shouting. I truly am, Mrsha. I didn’t mean it. I was angry. But I should never have shouted at you. Will you come out? Thank you for the flower.”
The Gnoll stared at him. Her eyes were running. She looked at Pisces, and he imagined a cat. Or a dog. But then she shot out of the bed and leapt at him. And she hugged him. No pet could do that.
A child. Pisces sat back as Mrsha rammed into him. She buried her head into his robes. For a moment, he stared at her, but then, gingerly, he put his arms around her. Lifted her into his lap. Patted her head. She began to punch at his side, weakly.
“I’m sorry. I was just—it was the bounty and—I’m sorry. I should never have said that. Forgive me?”
He stopped making excuses. Mrsha wiped her face in his robes. She looked up at him, eyes still overflowing. Pisces rubbed at his eyes. And then he began to cry.
“I knew they’d do this. I knew, but—I’ve been trying. And this is what happens. I tried. I never meant for that! Any of it!”
He tried to stop. But they kept coming out. Frustrated, angry. And hurt. Oh, it hurt. Almost as much as hurting other people. But not enough. Mrsha stared up at Pisces. Then she sat up.
She licked his cheek and hugged him. He stared at her, feeling her feet on his lap. It was such an odd feeling. He’d had…Erin hug him? Or Selys? Maybe? In moments of excitement. But never like this. He gently patted her on the back as she blew her nose on his robes.
“I’m alright. You helped save me, didn’t you? It was brave of you. You are…my heroine.”
She looked up. Pisces saw Mrsha point downstairs. Of course. She’d heard everything. She looked at him, tearful. He didn’t need sign language to know what she meant.
“Yes. I should. I—I said very mean things, didn’t I?”
She stared at him and nearly bit his hand. He snatched his fingers away.
“Bad things. I was angry. I’ll apologize.”
She tried to tug him towards the door. Pisces held still and shook his head.
“In—in twenty minutes. I will go down then. To let tempers cool.”
He was prevaricating. In truth, now Pisces was embarrassed. So incredibly so that he couldn’t face the others. Mrsha stared at Pisces. Then she sat down and stared at him.
That was worse. The Gnoll’s stare went right through Pisces. And he sat there, recalling exactly what he’d said. To Ceria most of all. He tried to wait, to clear his mind.
He couldn’t bear it for more than ten minutes. Pisces got up, and opened his door. Mrsha followed him out into the hallway. Down the steps.
They were all there. The common room looked up as Pisces stopped at the foot of the stairs, and then quickly looked to their drinks. The Horns sat there, looking at Pisces and then away. It felt like an age since he’d shouted at them. Ten minutes? Twenty, including his tantrum? Pisces hesitated.
Then he walked towards them. Mrsha was in his arms. Lyonette hurried over.
“Mrsha! Were you bothering—”
She halted, looking at Pisces. He turned towards her.
“She didn’t bother me. Mrsha—”
He placed Mrsha down on the floor. She watched as he walked over to the table. Ceria was drinking. Yvlon was sitting with Ksmvr, eating. Both looked up silently. Ksmvr looked down at once. Yvlon stared past Pisces, her face completely blank.
And Ceria? She looked at the young man and then turned away. Drinking deeply. Pisces stared down at the table. He took a deep breath. And then another. And another.
On the fourth breath, the words came out in a rush.
“I’m—sorry. Ceria, Yvlon. Ksmvr. I am sorry. I didn’t mean what I said. I spoke in anger.”
“Oh yeah? What a surprise.”
Ceria didn’t look at him. Pisces hesitated. Yvlon looked up. She glanced at Ceria, and then at Ksmvr.
“It was a heated moment. We let things get away from us, Ceria.”
“I forgive you for all my trauma, Comrade Pisces.”
Ksmvr sat up, looking relieved. Pisces almost smiled at him. Almost. Tentatively, he pulled out a chair. Ceria didn’t kick it away from him as he sat, which was good. He saw Yvlon looking at him.
“I’m sorry.”
Rare words from him. She nodded slowly. She was still angry, he knew. And Ceria. But the half-Elf was biting her lips.
It was easy, then, for Pisces to imagine saying something and inviting sympathy. In a bit they might talk. In a few days, the incident might be behind them. Tempers had been high. But right now—
His throat constricted. That was what he could do. What Pisces did. But the young man bit his lip. After a moment, he looked around, catching Ceria’s eye, Yvlon’s look. Ksmvr’s stare. Pisces hesitated, and then put his hands on the table. He spoke over the thundering of his heart.
“My name, my true name, is Pisces Jealnet. It’s a commoner’s name. I was born in Terandria. In the Kingdom of Ailendamus. If you know of it, it’s a major nation. Sprawling. I was raised in House Dultel, one of the minor nobility. Not as a noble. My father was a [Fencer] employed by the [Lord]. I grew up in the household, well, around it.”
Ceria’s head snapped up. She turned, wide-eyed, and caught Pisces’ look. Yvlon blinked. Ksmvr began rummaging in his bag for a quill. Pisces looked at his team. He had never said this to anyone. The words came out of him, first slowly, like drawing a splinter, and then faster and faster.
“It’s true. My father was Padurn Jealnet. My mother Enica. They’re both alive, I think. They were when I left. I ran away from home. Because I was a [Necromancer]. I did steal to earn a living—I stole, used magic and sleight of hand to earn enough gold to pay the price of admission to Wistram. All that is true.”
“Pisces—”
Ceria looked at him. Pisces looked back. He was trembling, with nerves this time. He tried to steady his voice as he usually did. And failed.
“I always tried to hint at having aristocratic roots. Or some past beyond normal. The truth is that there’s not much. I learned to fence from my father, but I hated it. I found I had talent for magic. But my father wanted me to follow in his footsteps. He wasn’t a terrible man. He was strict. But he was a [Fencer]. Not the best, but good. He owned a silver bell, a mark of skill. I stole it when I ran away. I thought I earned it; I bested him when I fled. I used magic, you see. But I never gained the [Fencer] class. I didn’t want to be one.”
“You don’t have to tell us this.”
Yvlon’s voice was sympathetic. She was looking at Pisces. He jerked, shook his head. Ksmvr was taking notes and eating with his free hands.
“Let there be truth. It’s already out. So—here is the truth. You should know.”
He looked at his friends. It was all he could give. They watched him, without judgment. Waiting. So Pisces began from the beginning.
