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Unearth #6
River's heart felt like it was up in her throat; she felt vaguely sick. The voice wasn't that one she recognized, but she knew what this meant. Susurrus's cult was here, too, looking for Fai-Gadroth's idol, the same as they were. Even worse, they were going to need to keep from being spotted if they wanted to avoid being pursued to Esperia's isles—and suddenly, with this man the next aisle over, and probably more throughout the city, that was going to get a lot harder.
Even just getting out of the library was probably going to be bad. She needed to get to Dorian, and they needed to figure out a way they could leave. Now.
She hesitated, though. Against all expectation, Fontaine looked like she knew what all of this meant, too, and had come to the same conclusions as River.
That might be meaningful. Fontaine might be important, somehow. She might know something about the idols. But even more important than all of that was the fact that she was obviously afraid, and it was that which made River touch her arm, light.
She startled, looking over at River with wide eyes, suspicion blooming again. “Shh,” she whispered, unnecessarily.
River nodded, then gestured, waving her hand for Fontaine to follow her. Susurrus's follower, in the next aisle, and his librarian friend with the Fai-Gadroth cult were still walking, apparently unhurried, and heading towards the front of the library. River, still crouching down, starting inching the opposite way—towards the back aisle.
“I've been hearing some worrying things...” the librarian was saying.
“There's nothing to worry about,” said the cultist of Susurrus. River glanced back over to Fontaine, who was hesitating; then, she seemed to reach a decision, and slowly began to follow River.
River gave her a smile, as reassuring as she could manage, not really blaming Fontaine when she grimaced and glanced away. This was not a very reassuring situation, after all. But by some miracle, they reached the end of the aisle without being spotted.
She straightened up some, trying to stay lower than the shelves, looking around, trying to figure out the quickest route to where Dorian might be. Fontaine stayed kneeling even when she'd caught up, apparently too tall to even bother trying.
“Fire exit's not too subtle, sweetheart,” Fontaine whispered.
“You're right,” she whispered back absently. “We can't go out that way. We'll need to risk the front door.”
“That's not any better.” But it didn't take long for Fontaine to catch onto what River was looking for, despite the lack of information: “Your friends are in here?”
“One of them is.” She crept around the corner of the shelf; there didn't seem to be anyone else around this area, and she knew that sneaking around too obviously would only make them targets of suspicion if they ran into regular patrons, or other librarians. They didn't need pointed—or, more to the point, loud—questions being asked.
She straightened back up, slowly. Fontaine didn't, obviously still unimpressed.
“How do you know about all this? Or did you just make an enemy of Susurrus somehow?”
River chewed at her nail, looking around and starting in the direction of the History section. “Later, I promise. I'll explain everything as soon as we get out of here. But I want to make sure we don't get caught...”
“No offense, but I'm not sure I wouldn't rather be caught by them than caught by your group. I have a better idea of where I stand with the cult. I know less than nothing 'bout you.”
She looked over at Fontaine. The Mambo looked completely serious, if slightly uncertain, arms folded and eyes narrowed at her.
River hesitated. Then she made a decision. “There's another player in Susurrus's cult,” she said. “I ran into him in Bar Gladol. I think he and his friend are going to kill a lot of people...”
They already have. But she noticed the look on Fontaine's face, trailing off before saying as much. This information was something she recognized, too, and she seemed torn between fear again, and intense frustration.
“This is—” she began, then started again more quietly, almost balefully. “This is ridiculous. Y'all are involved in this mess too?”
“I'm sorry,” River said, at a loss. “You don't have to come with us. But I didn't want to leave you there. Let's just get out of the library, okay? Then you can go. We don't want to force you into anything.”
Fontaine's eyes darted, thinking. Then she seemed to reach her own conclusion. “Out of the city,” she corrected. “That one's not going to be all on his lonesome.”
River nodded. She peeked around the corner of the shelves, relieved to see that Dorian was there—and not paying much attention to the books. He spotted her quickly, and gestured her over, other hand raised to press a finger against his lips.
“You saw them?” he asked, when she'd made her way over. His brows creased when he saw Fontaine, and she bowed sarcastically, gesturing with her hat as if she'd doffed it, even though she hadn't put it back on. He gave River a questioning look.
“It's okay, she's a friend,” River said. “We heard them. They're looking for the idol here. I'm not sure if Fai-Gadroth's cult is going to cooperate, but...”
“We need to accept this as a loss,” Dorian agreed. “See if we can find Harlow and Addison...” He shook his head, frustrated. “We should have had a plan in case something like this happened.”
“It's okay,” River repeated softly. She could feel her heart hammering, and a part of her was frightened; part of her wanted to keep glancing around, jumpy, afraid of being spotted. But a part of her was strangely calm, and that part was in control. “We have to take this slowly. Just one step at a time. Do you think we can get out the front door without being seen?”
Dorian paused, surprised, then admitted, “I don't know. I think we can get past whoever's inside, if we're careful. But if there's anyone waiting outside—which is what I would do, just in case something went wrong...”
“If there's anyone watching the doors,” Fontaine spoke up, and they both looked at her, “they'll be watching the whole building. It'd be safer to wait a few hours, see if they leave.”
“Not necessarily,” River said. “If something does happen, a lot more of them will show up. And they might just be watching the main exits and entrances, like the church in Bar Gladol. We made it in there through an upstairs window,” she explained.
“All right,” Fontaine allowed, “but this library doesn't have an upstairs.”
Dorian leaned over to River. “Who is she?”
“Mambo Fontaine,” Fontaine introduced herself, raising a brow at him. “And she can hear you.”
“Uh.” Dorian looked kind of chagrined. “I'm sorry. I'm just—”
“Doesn't matter.” Fontaine waved it off, literally, one hand swatting at the air as if batting his words away. Then, for the first time since River had asked if she was a player, she smiled, and it was very nearly a smirk. “If this building has an attic, I can get us outside.”
Dorian hesitated, then nodded. “You're right, Ms. Fontaine,” he said politely. “That is much more important.”
What the building had, as it turned out, was something between an attic and a crawl space, cramped with boxes and with a low ceiling. And they'd had to go through the office behind the librarian's desk to get there—less treacherous than it sounded, since the librarian hadn't been there, and no one had been paying much attention.
It would only be treacherous if they had to come back out the same way.
“No need to worry yourselves about that.” Fontaine spoke absently as she tested the rafters with her hands, pressed them against parts of the ceiling as if seeing if they might collapse—or looking for a weak point. “I guarantee that the three of us will be out through the roof in five minutes.” Apparently satisfied with whatever she'd found, though she hadn't seemed to have found much of anything, Fontaine stepped back and smiled.
“All right, but how?” Dorian asked, and then a moment later: “Oh. River, you, uh, might want to close your eyes. This sort of thing takes some getting used to...”
River watched in fascination, though, as Fontaine picked her hat up off one of the boxes and put it on. It was a proud, almost ceremonial gesture, by the look on her face, though it had to sit cocked on her head to fit under the incredibly low ceiling. Then she reached up, and placed her palms flat against the slats of the roof.
And then she spoke.
“Susurrus gn-aiihngfhal-ma,” and River felt every hair on her body stand on end, like electricity shooting through her, like wind blowing over her, “nnnyahog ng tlahrum ehyah g’d’ah. Y'stell'bsna ftkhukhyor yll'ehyah. Ftah g'nyth y'ookhu.” And then, in a different tone, the language beautiful but so much more earthly, more grounded in things that River could understand, Fontaine added, “Souple, esko m, ban mwen fòs.”
Shadows crawled from her hands onto the wood, spreading out over the ceiling. She appeared to concentrate, and they receded some, until they covered only an area about five foot square, and then she said, “La-tho.”
Pieces of wood began dropping from the ceiling. She pushed upward, and the shadows squirmed, and the wood fell away in rot, shards and then whole chunks giving way until Fontaine was able to push through with barely any effort, clearing the way to sunlight.
“There we are,” she said, satisfied, and pulled at the edges of the hole, clearing away the rest of the rotted pieces.
River's eyes were burning, and starting to water terribly; she blinked, rubbed at them with both of her palms. Her head hurt a little, but she felt exhilarated. “We can do magic,” she said, almost to herself. “With the blessings from our gods. It didn't even occur to me— You worship Susurrus?” she asked Fontaine.
The priestess hesitated. “Officially,” she said cautiously. “In game. And since that's where we are now...”
“No, I understand. You were talking to someone else there for a moment, weren't you?”
Fontaine looked kind of impressed, giving River a smile. “You speak Kreyòl?”
“No,” River said. “But it was obvious. That definitely wasn't Aklo.”
“Not bad,” she admitted. “You're right. I've pledged myself to Susurrus, and since I know it's real, now, I thought I'd keep paying my respects. But that doesn't mean I'll stop respecting the lwa, or calling on my esko. They may be able to keep me out of the worst of this.”
“I hope they can,” River said, honestly, and Fontaine gave her another considering look. Then she looked at Dorian.
“Is she real?” she half-demanded, and Dorian chuckled.
“I wonder the same thing myself,” he said, giving River a fond glance. “But yes, she is.”
Fontaine pulled herself out of the attic, onto the roof of the building, and slid carefully closer to the edge of the roof. She glanced over the side, then moved to check the other sides, as Dorian pulled himself up, as well, and then reached down to help River up.
“You're were right,” she said, shrugging in defeat as she rejoined them. “They're watching the front, but they're not even bothering with the fire door. Guess they think they'd hear it.”
“We'll drop down that side, then,” Dorian said. “Take the long way around, stick to what back alleys we can.”
“See, I know why I can't be seen,” Fontaine said, looking searchingly at them, and crossing her arms. “They know me. What kind of run-in did you have with them back in Bar Gladol?”
“Bryan—the other player, he asked Addison and me to join his game. We said no. I tried to tell him that these are real people he's hurting, but...” River trailed off. “And one of my friends tried to kill him. I think Seneschal is angry.”
Fontaine's jaw dropped. “You made an enemy of the Steward and you're not dead?”
“Bryan told him not to bother. He doesn't seem to care about anyone who used to be an NPC; he was angrier at me for not... 'controlling' him.” River was troubled. “And Seneschal listens to him. He acts like he's Bryan's servant...”
“He is,” Fontaine said simply. “Look, the way you talk about NPCs—the former NPCs. It's obvious you do see them as people. Bryan? He don't buy it. More to the point, he don't care. He outranks Seneschal, has since this was just a game, so now he acts like when he says 'jump' Seneschal just needs to ask how high. And the Steward goes along with it.”
“Why?” Dorian asked. He'd been about to climb down off the roof, but had stopped at their conversation, aghast.
“Y'know, it's nice you even asked that. 'Cause why wouldn't he? It's what he's always done. No one's told him he should do any different. Bryan sure wouldn't want to encourage it.”
Dorian was looking troubled; River moved carefully over to him, and touched his shoulder. “Are you okay?”
“...I'm fine.” He reached up and touched her hand for a moment, then shifted around, to carefully climb down. “Come on. Let's get out of here and try to find the others.”
River glanced back at Fontaine. “Are you going to come with us?”
“I'll go along with you 'til we're out of the city, remember?” She came over, too, dangled her legs over the side of the roof. “I helped you back there, so you owe me. Help me get out safe, we'll call it even, and I'll be on my way. I don't intend to get involved in this mess.”
“Is that why you left? Are they looking for you?
The Mambo didn't look like she appreciated River's questions much. “Never mind that. I don't want them finding me, either way. That's enough.”
“You're right,” River agreed, and carefully climbed down herself. She dangled from the ledge for a moment before dropping down, Dorian helping steady her as soon as she landed. Fontaine dropped down next to her, then raised a hand for them to stop and be quiet.
Voices, from one side of the library's walls, around the corner. “...thought I heard something...”
Arms still somewhat supporting River, Dorian hurried her over to the other side of the building; the three of them were around the corner before anyone saw, and away before anyone came looking.
***
Without a lot of luck, searching for Harlow and Addison was going to be difficult.
“And we haven't been having much of that,” Dorian said, frowning. River reached into her pocket, where she'd put the good luck charm, closing her fingers around it thoughtfully.
“I don't know about that,” she said slowly, and smiled at Fontaine. “No one actually saw us.”
Fontaine gave her a sidelong glance. “Think that luck'll hold, sweetheart? I don't know what it is about y'all,” she added. “Every other player I've met just insists on playin' dangerous games. You're making some real powerful enemies, puttin' yourself in danger... So I gotta ask: What's in it for you?”
“Nothing,” River said, startled.
“You're not havin' fun?” Fontaine smiled, just shy of sardonic. “It ain't giving you a thrill?”
“I don't like it,” River said, without hesitation, and Fontaine's smile faded. “I don't... like any of this. But I have to help people. I have to do what I can.”
“Why?” It was Dorian who asked that, oddly intent, looking over at her. They paused at the corner of an alleyway, but he didn't glance out into the street just yet, didn't check for suspicious faces. He just looked at hers. “Why do you feel like you need to do this?”
“Who else is going to?” River looked away, brought her thumb up to her mouth again; she worried nervously at the nail, biting hard. “...Besides. I feel a little responsible. These people, they came from my world. They came here, and they're going to kill a lot of people, they're going to hurt a lot of people... just for fun. Just because they don't think the people in this world are— real enough.”
“River.” Dorian put a hand on her shoulder. “That isn't your fault.”
“He's right, y'know,” Fontaine agreed. “You can't be responsible for everything.”
“I've told her that,” he said ruefully.
“And I do know,” River said. She reached up with her hand, moved his from her shoulder—took hold of it, and held it in both of her own. “I've been trying to understand that. I know it's true, that I can't take responsibility for everything. But... I can't just expect other people to take care of this for me. Not when people are in danger like this. If there's something I can do to help...”
“You need to do what you can, at the appropriate time, to the degree that you're able,” Fontaine said, as if to herself, and then stopped. She moved past them before River could respond, and looked around the corner herself.
“Coast's clear,” she said abruptly, as if shaking away the previous conversation, the words she'd just said. As if she understood, despite her making herself clear that she wasn't interested in getting involved personally. “Let's move.”
River let go of Dorian's hand at about the same time he drew it back, feeling embarrassed only when she saw the embarrassment on his face. “Sorry,” she said. “I...”
“No,” he said quickly. “I mean. Don't worry about it. Let's talk later.” He cleared his throat, following after Fontaine. “I don't think we can spend much time looking for the other two,” he said. “If we don't find them quickly, we should just head to Marble Port. They'll spot the cult, too, and they'll meet up with us there.”
River nodded, biting her lip. “They'll figure that out,” she agreed. “They knew we wouldn't be staying here long, anyway. And we should make sure to get there while the Susurrus's people are still tied up here in Higham.”
“Hate to break it to y'all,” Fontaine interjected, still keeping an eye on the streets rather than looking back to them, “but Susurrus's cult's already been in Marble Port.”
There was silence. Then, from Dorian, quiet but heartfelt: “Shit.”
River curled her fingers into helpless fists. They'd gotten to Marble Port first? Bryan must have sent members of the cult to different cities to look for the idols simultaneously. That meant they could be going into danger right now, and it meant that Bryan might have three of the seven idols already—four, if he did already have Susurrus's. And each idol might mean more people dead, each idol 'demanded sacrifices' that Bryan would have no reason to spare in his 'game'...
Could they really just not do anything about any of this?
Then she relaxed again. She felt her nails digging into her palms, and uncurled her fingers again, taking a breath. “Mambo? Did you come here from Marble Port?”
Fontaine gave her a sidelong glance. “I did,” she agreed. “Saw them comin' in and got nervous, so I pulled back.”
“Then they probably came here from there,” River said. “If they weren't here from the start. That means they probably finished in Marble Port. If we go that way, it should be clear.”
“Do you think so?” Dorian asked.
“It makes the most sense. They shouldn't be heading back in that direction if they were already there, not unless they had to retreat and are going to attack later. Even then, if they couldn't manage it before, they'll need to call in reinforcements. We should have a few days.”
“That... actually does make sense,” Dorian admitted. “It's tactical. All right, River, that's the assumption we'll work under, then. If it's true, we should have time to get to Marble Port and wait for the others.”
“If they had trouble with strangers, they won't be too welcoming to outsiders,” Fontaine pointed out. “It's a nice area—I like waterfronts—but those fishmen have more reason than most to be suspicious of others.”
“But it's the one place the cult shouldn't be, right now,” Dorian said. “Either way, if you don't feel comfortable, you don't need to come. River wasn't joking; this isn't a pleasant trip.”
“And you're both making it clear you ain't tryin' to drag me into things,” Fontaine noted. “Aren't y'all just a couple of sweethearts. I'll head along your way for a while. There's safety in numbers, I didn't have too bad a time in Marble Port and, Bondye help me, I have a good feeling about this. Sounds ludicrous, doesn't it?”
River shook her head. “Not really. What did you call them? Lua? Esko? Maybe they are helping you.”
“Maybe,” Fontaine said slowly, narrowing her eyes at her. “Just maybe they are.” Then she smiled, and added, “And maybe it ain't a bad idea to stick around someone as lucky as you. So what's your plan for making it all the way to Marble Port from here without running into trouble?”
“I don't know about not running into trouble,” Dorian said. “But if we can get to our carriage, we shouldn't catch anyone's eye leaving the city. And if we take a detour around the outskirts,” he said to River, “Harlow and Addison might notice us.”
River nodded, a little reluctantly. “That's probably the best we can do,” she agreed.
Susurrus's people didn't seem like they were bothering with keeping anyone from leaving the city, or it might have just been early on enough that things had not yet become oppressive, the way they had in Bar Gladol. But there was no one keeping watch at the stables, and Dorian paid for the retrieval of their horses and they hid themselves away in the carriage as quickly as possible.
Fontaine visibly relaxed only once they were inside and the doors had been shut. She leaned back in the seat, stretching out her legs, and looked around. “Nice place,” she said. “Bit cramped.”
“It will be with five of us,” Dorian said. “But it will do. It cuts down on travel time and it keeps us from being too noticeable, those are the only things we need.”
“We're not going to have much money left after the ship,” River told him.
“I'm amazed you had enough to last this long,” Fontaine said, tucking her feet back more towards the bench again and leaning one arm on her knees. “How long've you been playin' this game?”
“About six years. I signed up not long after it opened up for everyone to play,” River said. “It took me a few months to get into the swing of things, but... Once I got involved with the cult, it wasn't that hard.”
The Mambo nodded. “'Bout a year on my end, and my playing was a bit spotty. Getting from Ste. Simon to Marble Port took a lot out of my virtual savings,” she said. “I wanted to get as far as possible from Bryan's little game.”
Dorian nodded. “That's fair. So... Wait.” He leaned forward, too, suddenly intrigued. “That's the center of all this? Ste. Simon? That's where Bryan was situated?”
“Not many people know it, but that's where Seneschal is most often, too,” Fontaine agreed. The cart jumped slightly as they hit a bump in the road, and they all swayed, and she added, “So I wanted out, and I am not interested in getting back in. But I'm curious. What's your plan, here? Higham, Marble Port, taking a ship? You're wanting to stop this game, fair enough, but I can't get a handle on you guys.”
“Right now, we're trying to find as many of the idols as we can before Bryan can get to them,” River said. “We didn't think it was going to be a race... Or at least not a close one like this.”
“If you're thinking of getting Tazoa's idol from the fishmen, think again.” Fontaine gave her a knowing look. “Even if they had it, they wouldn't tell anyone. You'd be a lot less welcome there after askin', too. Doubt those guys got it without a fight, or some real subtle tricks.”
“That might be true,” River admitted. “But one of our friends—Harlow—he's a devotee of Tazoa, too. He's pledged to Beset, but... he might be able to talk to them.”
“Cats and fish,” Fontaine muttered, slouching back again. “I'd like to see that.”
“Bryan isn't really the one I'm worried about.” Dorian spoke up suddenly, and River and Fontaine both looked over at him, only one of them surprised by the admission. “If Bryan's doing sacrifices, fair enough, that's bad. But he has rules he'll play by if he's taking his game seriously. Carpenter is much more unfettered. As far as we know, they're going around randomly, and killing anyone who fits their definition of 'evil', whenever they want.”
Fontaine looked uneasy. “I didn't hear much about Carpenter,” she admitted. “Met him once. Didn't like him much.”
“He burned down Malvilla,” River said.
Fontaine blinked. Then she said, flatly—nothing in her inflection making it a real question—“The whole town.”
“He killed anyone who tried to get out,” River said, and next to her, Dorian put a hand on her arm. “I didn't see much, but... We were there after it happened. A lot of people died.” She met Fontaine's eyes. “So Dorian's right. Carpenter is a lot more dangerous right now. We just...”
She faltered, looking down. “We don't really have a way of finding him right now.”
“Look. I believe you,” Fontaine said. “But I can't really help with that.”
River shook her head, not looking up. “That's not it, I just... I can't say that Bryan is safe, because he's not. But I want you to know how dangerous Carpenter is. If you ever run into him...”
There was an awkward pause. “All right,” Fontaine said finally, averting her eyes. “I'll be careful, don't you worry.”
“Believe me, River's not really recruiting people,” Dorian said. They'd obviously gotten out of the city proper; they were bumping over more uneven streets now. “She just asked me for help finding her friend. Harlow's really only with us because of Malvilla.”
“Vengeful type?”
“If there's some way to stop them without killing them...” River said, and Fontaine looked at her in surprise.
“They're playing games with people's lives and you're drawing your morality line there?” she asked, and River flushed.
“It's not right. There has to be some other way. If they could be sent back to our world—or arrested...”
She was surprised by the way Fontaine's face hardened, then. “Don't get cops involved,” she said flatly. “Little bit of advice, darlin'. You won't like the results if you do. You're always gonna care a lot more about mass murder of a 'lesser' group than the police do.”
“Lesser?” River repeated, startled. “But the police used to be NPCs, too. They wouldn't...”
“Think about it for a minute.” Fontaine crossed one leg over the other, looking at her critically. “Not NPCs. That's the group Bryan and his people are thinkin' of when they're doing their killing, but do you really think the cops will care as long as they're not killing the rich? Their priority's their employers; always has been,” she said bitterly. “So what you've got left are the poor, maybe homeless or criminal, minorities—stand-ins for minorities, you know how much Lovecraft and his friends loved that—people practicing 'fringe religions'...
“The police might arrest Bryan. If you bring it to their attention, prove it's him, and if they decide his cult makes 'em nervous. And good luck. But if you think a bunch of people worshiping 'evil' out in the middle of nowhere gettin' killed is gonna be enough to make them go after Carpenter... It's naive, that's all I'm saying.”
There was silence, and then Dorian let out a long breath. “And here I was thinking the biggest problem would be Bryan just having his people kill the cops,” he admitted.
Fontaine smirked. “That too.”
River really thought about things as they went on, as they went a circle around the edges of the city in passive search. She was more than subdued; Fontaine's words had shaken her. She didn't question them. Even with all of her advantages, she'd known acutely for some years that the police were very unlikely to be her friends. She hadn't thought of involving them because she thought they were good, or safe, or not corrupt.
But she'd thought they might be able to do something, that they were at least an alternative to death. Having it pointed out to her that they might just not care, and that they might be killed if they did, had shaken her.
“I think that's all we can do,” Dorian said finally, after about an hour, and River nodded.
“They'll find us in Marble Port,” she said. “I'm sure of it.” But she chewed at her nails nervously, and she didn't know if she believed it any more.
***
They were about twenty miles from Marble Port, still, when something landed on the roof of the carriage.
River had been dozing, and from the way Fontaine had been sitting and the way she jerked, she had been, too. Dorian tensed up, and reached into his jacket, but there was a knock at the carriage door and then the familiar voice of Harlow said, “Stop the carriage. You're going to drive into a tekeli.”
The carriage stopped. River followed Dorian outside, astonished to see Harlow and Addison this far out. Harlow was lying across the roof of the carriage, leaning over the side, and he dropped down to grin at them; Addison was a little further up the road, closer to the tekeli, which was pulsating oddly and blinking a few eyes at them.
Dorian seemed about as surprised as she was to see them here. “You saw the cult, too?”
“We saw them coming into the city,” Harlow agreed. “Addison wanted to follow them, but I knew you'd head to Marble Port as soon as you noticed.”
“Okay, so you were right,” Addison called over, agreeably. They took a step back as the tekeli burbled slightly forwards, then subsided again. “I think this thing's guarding the way, though. It's a good thing you stopped the coach; it probably would have eaten it,” they added.
“They don't want the Susurrus cult coming back.” Fontaine stepped out of the carriage too, putting on her hat, and Harlow's head swiveled towards her immediately. “Fishmen work with the tekeli; it must be here on orders not to let strangers in.”
“You don't have to explain that to me,” Harlow agreed, grinning and putting a hand on one hip. “Are you picking up more strays, River?”
“You'd be one of those strays too, you know,” Addison said, and Harlow turned to, maturely, stick his tongue out at them.
“I'm no stray,” Fontaine said, “and she didn't pick me up—more's the pity.” A glance at River, and to her surprise, a wink, as if sharing a private joke, and she blushed. Again. “I'm playing keep away from the cult, same as you. Fortunately, this big softie is proof that the coast is clear in Marble Port... Unfortunately, it means they're goin' to be as unwelcoming as I thought.”
“Unless it lets us through,” River said, and the others turned to her in surprise. “It's trying to keep out strangers, right? People who might be dangerous? Is there any way of proving to it that we're not?”
“They are intelligent,” Fontaine admitted. “More intelligent than they usually let on. But as far as the fishmen know, if we make it past, we may have just killed it.”
“No.” Harlow spoke up in disagreement, leaning against the coach and glancing between Fontaine and the creature, apparently relaxed and grinning faintly, but expression sharp. “Think about it. There wouldn't be any point to just leaving one tekeli guard here like this. Either there are a lot more and attacking one would go badly for us, or the tekeli here have some way of letting Marble Port know when something's wrong. Or both.”
Fontaine's brows shot up. “And you must be Harlow.”
Harlow's expression became a full-fledged grin, and he laughed. “Is that a good thing?”
“You're familiar with all this, you're sharp, you're clever. And the way you've been talking, you revere cats, I can tell,” she added. She cocked her head, nodded it slightly towards the tekeli. “So the theory we're goin' with is that we can win over the guard, here, and the town won't attack us on sight?”
Harlow scratched the back of his head, still grinning. “It might be embarrassing if we're only half right!”
“Okay,” Addison said, decisively. They stepped forward, crossing their arms and looking at the tekeli, clearly thinking. “So... You can understand us, right? How do we talk to something like you?”
The eyes all blinked, out of sync, slipping formlessly over the shifting flesh. Then it opened several of its mouths, and spoke in several voices, surprisingly clear and in harmony with one another:
“Wondered when you'd ask,” it said. “Less rude. 'Something',” it added, with audible derisiveness, clicking a few probably-tongues.
Addison blinked, themself. Then they blushed, almost as red as their hair. “Oh. Oh, uh. I'm really sorry.”
Harlow started laughing, supportively. “Addison,” he teased. “You're the purr-fect diplomat!”
“I'm sorry,” Addison repeated. “But we really need to get past. Is there any way we can prove to you that we're not planning on hurting anyone?”
“No visitors,” the tekeli said. “Not strangers. Not allies. Susurrus betrays.”
Fontaine looked slightly troubled at that, River noticed, but she didn't say anything. Harlow stepped forward instead, raising his hands with a winning grin.
“I'm not an ally, though,” he said, walking up almost to the tekeli. It blinked a few eyes at him, reabsorbing some of the ones it shut and opening new ones, and he added, “I'm the same as the fishmen. A cousin. You can tell that I follow Beset, right?”
A beat of silence, and then: “Yes. Cat.”
Then, suddenly, the tekeli reared up. No, River realized—not reared. It got taller, because it was stretching itself out like it was taffy, totally boneless and formless, going from a lump to a long strand. Then it twisted strangely, and her eyes watered sympathetically the same way they had when listening to Fontaine speak Aklo; it seemed to change size completely, compressing itself or tucking some parts of its mass away... elsewhere.
When it finished, it was roughly the size of a person, though still large—perhaps a foot taller than Fontaine—and shaped more like a cephalopod than anything, some tentacles acting as feet and some as arms, and a few more looking more like wings than anything, placed closer to its “back.” It seemed to have the right number and placement of mouths, now, with just the one on what seemed to be the front of its face, but possibly couldn't quite understand the idea of having a limited amount of eyes.
“Another of Tazoa,” it added, with one voice now, a singular set of vocal chords. “Still, a stranger. Was given a job.”
“To protect, right?” River asked. It didn't need to turn at all to look at her, but turned slightly anyway. “To protect Marble Port. The people there.”
“Yes.”
“We want to help,” she said. “We want to protect people, too. Are they afraid that Susurrus's followers are going to come back? We want to stop what they're doing, to keep them from hurting anyone else.”
“Help,” it repeated. Then, “Help by leaving alone. Followers of Tazoa called Beset, e' athaiy'-ei... Susurrus.”
“Okay.” Fontaine spoke up then, uncrossing her arms and straightening up from where she was leaning against the carriage, stepping away from it. She raised her hands in surrender for a moment before letting them drop. “Fair enough, tekeli. Myself, I wasn't set on coming in again, anyway.”
River wanted to protest, but then the Mambo continued, “But you should know, and you can tell your friends this: Susurrus didn't betray your town. You think that's its style? The man behind this, he's only human, and he sure ain't listening to anything Susurrus has got to say. Y'all were betrayed by people—not gods.”
She tipped her hat to the figure. “Good day to you.”
Fontaine turned away—and then smirked, winking at River. She started back towards the coach, almost exaggerated in her intentions to get back inside, but after a moment's pause, the tekeli made a sound like water burbling in a drain.
It was a sound that was difficult to parse, but apparently not threatening. It spoke up again. “No orders? No goal for their god.” Then, more suspicious, “Susurrus not interfering.”
“Not yet,” Fontaine agreed. “Not sure why. Maybe just because everyone's just going along with this guy. No one's calling its attention, and why would they? They're makin' trouble with the followers of its allies.”
The tekeli seemed to ruminate on that, or at least it seemed to be giving it due consideration. It was hard to tell, it had no recognizable facial expressions, except for the corners of its lips being turned down in a frown.
“Please.” River spoke up earnestly, taking a step forward but then stopping there, not trying to get too close. “If we can't come into town, will you ask one of Rashi's followers to come here instead? We just need to talk to someone. Then we'll go. We don't want to make trouble.”
“Followers prefer ocean. Beachfront. Like forests less,” the tekeli disagreed, and River's heart sank a little, at a loss. There didn't seem to be much else they could offer, any real way they could prove themselves... But then the entity said, continuing, “Come with me. Follow.”
River relaxed, smiling in relief. “Thank you,” she said, as the tekeli turned, and started to head down the road away from the carriage, and still looked back at them all.
“No thanks,” it said. “You are not in good positions. Will have to convince Head of Mires. Not me. If you are lying,” it added, “you should have gone away.”
Dorian visibly hesitated; Fontaine and Addison both looked alarmed. Even Harlow was looking calculating, eyes darting about as if searching for a clear path in case he decided they needed to run. River felt a shiver of uncertainty herself, wondering if they were doing the right thing in risking this. If Marble Port could take care of itself, then going to retrieve The Nameless Trespasser's idol might be more important. If they couldn't convince this 'head'...
Harlow made a quiet, dissatisfied sound suddenly, very nearly a growl down in his throat. “Too late,” he muttered, and River saw then the movement in the woods, that he must have spotted several moments before her. The still-formless shapes of other tekeli lined the path, perhaps only half a dozen, but reminding them—if they tried to run, if the tekeli decided to pursue, they couldn't be sure how fast they could move, and if the tekeli caught them up...
The one in almost humanoid shape stood on the path, waiting patiently for them. With no other choice left, they followed after it, and into Marble Port.
Even just getting out of the library was probably going to be bad. She needed to get to Dorian, and they needed to figure out a way they could leave. Now.
She hesitated, though. Against all expectation, Fontaine looked like she knew what all of this meant, too, and had come to the same conclusions as River.
That might be meaningful. Fontaine might be important, somehow. She might know something about the idols. But even more important than all of that was the fact that she was obviously afraid, and it was that which made River touch her arm, light.
She startled, looking over at River with wide eyes, suspicion blooming again. “Shh,” she whispered, unnecessarily.
River nodded, then gestured, waving her hand for Fontaine to follow her. Susurrus's follower, in the next aisle, and his librarian friend with the Fai-Gadroth cult were still walking, apparently unhurried, and heading towards the front of the library. River, still crouching down, starting inching the opposite way—towards the back aisle.
“I've been hearing some worrying things...” the librarian was saying.
“There's nothing to worry about,” said the cultist of Susurrus. River glanced back over to Fontaine, who was hesitating; then, she seemed to reach a decision, and slowly began to follow River.
River gave her a smile, as reassuring as she could manage, not really blaming Fontaine when she grimaced and glanced away. This was not a very reassuring situation, after all. But by some miracle, they reached the end of the aisle without being spotted.
She straightened up some, trying to stay lower than the shelves, looking around, trying to figure out the quickest route to where Dorian might be. Fontaine stayed kneeling even when she'd caught up, apparently too tall to even bother trying.
“Fire exit's not too subtle, sweetheart,” Fontaine whispered.
“You're right,” she whispered back absently. “We can't go out that way. We'll need to risk the front door.”
“That's not any better.” But it didn't take long for Fontaine to catch onto what River was looking for, despite the lack of information: “Your friends are in here?”
“One of them is.” She crept around the corner of the shelf; there didn't seem to be anyone else around this area, and she knew that sneaking around too obviously would only make them targets of suspicion if they ran into regular patrons, or other librarians. They didn't need pointed—or, more to the point, loud—questions being asked.
She straightened back up, slowly. Fontaine didn't, obviously still unimpressed.
“How do you know about all this? Or did you just make an enemy of Susurrus somehow?”
River chewed at her nail, looking around and starting in the direction of the History section. “Later, I promise. I'll explain everything as soon as we get out of here. But I want to make sure we don't get caught...”
“No offense, but I'm not sure I wouldn't rather be caught by them than caught by your group. I have a better idea of where I stand with the cult. I know less than nothing 'bout you.”
She looked over at Fontaine. The Mambo looked completely serious, if slightly uncertain, arms folded and eyes narrowed at her.
River hesitated. Then she made a decision. “There's another player in Susurrus's cult,” she said. “I ran into him in Bar Gladol. I think he and his friend are going to kill a lot of people...”
They already have. But she noticed the look on Fontaine's face, trailing off before saying as much. This information was something she recognized, too, and she seemed torn between fear again, and intense frustration.
“This is—” she began, then started again more quietly, almost balefully. “This is ridiculous. Y'all are involved in this mess too?”
“I'm sorry,” River said, at a loss. “You don't have to come with us. But I didn't want to leave you there. Let's just get out of the library, okay? Then you can go. We don't want to force you into anything.”
Fontaine's eyes darted, thinking. Then she seemed to reach her own conclusion. “Out of the city,” she corrected. “That one's not going to be all on his lonesome.”
River nodded. She peeked around the corner of the shelves, relieved to see that Dorian was there—and not paying much attention to the books. He spotted her quickly, and gestured her over, other hand raised to press a finger against his lips.
“You saw them?” he asked, when she'd made her way over. His brows creased when he saw Fontaine, and she bowed sarcastically, gesturing with her hat as if she'd doffed it, even though she hadn't put it back on. He gave River a questioning look.
“It's okay, she's a friend,” River said. “We heard them. They're looking for the idol here. I'm not sure if Fai-Gadroth's cult is going to cooperate, but...”
“We need to accept this as a loss,” Dorian agreed. “See if we can find Harlow and Addison...” He shook his head, frustrated. “We should have had a plan in case something like this happened.”
“It's okay,” River repeated softly. She could feel her heart hammering, and a part of her was frightened; part of her wanted to keep glancing around, jumpy, afraid of being spotted. But a part of her was strangely calm, and that part was in control. “We have to take this slowly. Just one step at a time. Do you think we can get out the front door without being seen?”
Dorian paused, surprised, then admitted, “I don't know. I think we can get past whoever's inside, if we're careful. But if there's anyone waiting outside—which is what I would do, just in case something went wrong...”
“If there's anyone watching the doors,” Fontaine spoke up, and they both looked at her, “they'll be watching the whole building. It'd be safer to wait a few hours, see if they leave.”
“Not necessarily,” River said. “If something does happen, a lot more of them will show up. And they might just be watching the main exits and entrances, like the church in Bar Gladol. We made it in there through an upstairs window,” she explained.
“All right,” Fontaine allowed, “but this library doesn't have an upstairs.”
Dorian leaned over to River. “Who is she?”
“Mambo Fontaine,” Fontaine introduced herself, raising a brow at him. “And she can hear you.”
“Uh.” Dorian looked kind of chagrined. “I'm sorry. I'm just—”
“Doesn't matter.” Fontaine waved it off, literally, one hand swatting at the air as if batting his words away. Then, for the first time since River had asked if she was a player, she smiled, and it was very nearly a smirk. “If this building has an attic, I can get us outside.”
Dorian hesitated, then nodded. “You're right, Ms. Fontaine,” he said politely. “That is much more important.”
What the building had, as it turned out, was something between an attic and a crawl space, cramped with boxes and with a low ceiling. And they'd had to go through the office behind the librarian's desk to get there—less treacherous than it sounded, since the librarian hadn't been there, and no one had been paying much attention.
It would only be treacherous if they had to come back out the same way.
“No need to worry yourselves about that.” Fontaine spoke absently as she tested the rafters with her hands, pressed them against parts of the ceiling as if seeing if they might collapse—or looking for a weak point. “I guarantee that the three of us will be out through the roof in five minutes.” Apparently satisfied with whatever she'd found, though she hadn't seemed to have found much of anything, Fontaine stepped back and smiled.
“All right, but how?” Dorian asked, and then a moment later: “Oh. River, you, uh, might want to close your eyes. This sort of thing takes some getting used to...”
River watched in fascination, though, as Fontaine picked her hat up off one of the boxes and put it on. It was a proud, almost ceremonial gesture, by the look on her face, though it had to sit cocked on her head to fit under the incredibly low ceiling. Then she reached up, and placed her palms flat against the slats of the roof.
And then she spoke.
“Susurrus gn-aiihngfhal-ma,” and River felt every hair on her body stand on end, like electricity shooting through her, like wind blowing over her, “nnnyahog ng tlahrum ehyah g’d’ah. Y'stell'bsna ftkhukhyor yll'ehyah. Ftah g'nyth y'ookhu.” And then, in a different tone, the language beautiful but so much more earthly, more grounded in things that River could understand, Fontaine added, “Souple, esko m, ban mwen fòs.”
Shadows crawled from her hands onto the wood, spreading out over the ceiling. She appeared to concentrate, and they receded some, until they covered only an area about five foot square, and then she said, “La-tho.”
Pieces of wood began dropping from the ceiling. She pushed upward, and the shadows squirmed, and the wood fell away in rot, shards and then whole chunks giving way until Fontaine was able to push through with barely any effort, clearing the way to sunlight.
“There we are,” she said, satisfied, and pulled at the edges of the hole, clearing away the rest of the rotted pieces.
River's eyes were burning, and starting to water terribly; she blinked, rubbed at them with both of her palms. Her head hurt a little, but she felt exhilarated. “We can do magic,” she said, almost to herself. “With the blessings from our gods. It didn't even occur to me— You worship Susurrus?” she asked Fontaine.
The priestess hesitated. “Officially,” she said cautiously. “In game. And since that's where we are now...”
“No, I understand. You were talking to someone else there for a moment, weren't you?”
Fontaine looked kind of impressed, giving River a smile. “You speak Kreyòl?”
“No,” River said. “But it was obvious. That definitely wasn't Aklo.”
“Not bad,” she admitted. “You're right. I've pledged myself to Susurrus, and since I know it's real, now, I thought I'd keep paying my respects. But that doesn't mean I'll stop respecting the lwa, or calling on my esko. They may be able to keep me out of the worst of this.”
“I hope they can,” River said, honestly, and Fontaine gave her another considering look. Then she looked at Dorian.
“Is she real?” she half-demanded, and Dorian chuckled.
“I wonder the same thing myself,” he said, giving River a fond glance. “But yes, she is.”
Fontaine pulled herself out of the attic, onto the roof of the building, and slid carefully closer to the edge of the roof. She glanced over the side, then moved to check the other sides, as Dorian pulled himself up, as well, and then reached down to help River up.
“You're were right,” she said, shrugging in defeat as she rejoined them. “They're watching the front, but they're not even bothering with the fire door. Guess they think they'd hear it.”
“We'll drop down that side, then,” Dorian said. “Take the long way around, stick to what back alleys we can.”
“See, I know why I can't be seen,” Fontaine said, looking searchingly at them, and crossing her arms. “They know me. What kind of run-in did you have with them back in Bar Gladol?”
“Bryan—the other player, he asked Addison and me to join his game. We said no. I tried to tell him that these are real people he's hurting, but...” River trailed off. “And one of my friends tried to kill him. I think Seneschal is angry.”
Fontaine's jaw dropped. “You made an enemy of the Steward and you're not dead?”
“Bryan told him not to bother. He doesn't seem to care about anyone who used to be an NPC; he was angrier at me for not... 'controlling' him.” River was troubled. “And Seneschal listens to him. He acts like he's Bryan's servant...”
“He is,” Fontaine said simply. “Look, the way you talk about NPCs—the former NPCs. It's obvious you do see them as people. Bryan? He don't buy it. More to the point, he don't care. He outranks Seneschal, has since this was just a game, so now he acts like when he says 'jump' Seneschal just needs to ask how high. And the Steward goes along with it.”
“Why?” Dorian asked. He'd been about to climb down off the roof, but had stopped at their conversation, aghast.
“Y'know, it's nice you even asked that. 'Cause why wouldn't he? It's what he's always done. No one's told him he should do any different. Bryan sure wouldn't want to encourage it.”
Dorian was looking troubled; River moved carefully over to him, and touched his shoulder. “Are you okay?”
“...I'm fine.” He reached up and touched her hand for a moment, then shifted around, to carefully climb down. “Come on. Let's get out of here and try to find the others.”
River glanced back at Fontaine. “Are you going to come with us?”
“I'll go along with you 'til we're out of the city, remember?” She came over, too, dangled her legs over the side of the roof. “I helped you back there, so you owe me. Help me get out safe, we'll call it even, and I'll be on my way. I don't intend to get involved in this mess.”
“Is that why you left? Are they looking for you?
The Mambo didn't look like she appreciated River's questions much. “Never mind that. I don't want them finding me, either way. That's enough.”
“You're right,” River agreed, and carefully climbed down herself. She dangled from the ledge for a moment before dropping down, Dorian helping steady her as soon as she landed. Fontaine dropped down next to her, then raised a hand for them to stop and be quiet.
Voices, from one side of the library's walls, around the corner. “...thought I heard something...”
Arms still somewhat supporting River, Dorian hurried her over to the other side of the building; the three of them were around the corner before anyone saw, and away before anyone came looking.
Without a lot of luck, searching for Harlow and Addison was going to be difficult.
“And we haven't been having much of that,” Dorian said, frowning. River reached into her pocket, where she'd put the good luck charm, closing her fingers around it thoughtfully.
“I don't know about that,” she said slowly, and smiled at Fontaine. “No one actually saw us.”
Fontaine gave her a sidelong glance. “Think that luck'll hold, sweetheart? I don't know what it is about y'all,” she added. “Every other player I've met just insists on playin' dangerous games. You're making some real powerful enemies, puttin' yourself in danger... So I gotta ask: What's in it for you?”
“Nothing,” River said, startled.
“You're not havin' fun?” Fontaine smiled, just shy of sardonic. “It ain't giving you a thrill?”
“I don't like it,” River said, without hesitation, and Fontaine's smile faded. “I don't... like any of this. But I have to help people. I have to do what I can.”
“Why?” It was Dorian who asked that, oddly intent, looking over at her. They paused at the corner of an alleyway, but he didn't glance out into the street just yet, didn't check for suspicious faces. He just looked at hers. “Why do you feel like you need to do this?”
“Who else is going to?” River looked away, brought her thumb up to her mouth again; she worried nervously at the nail, biting hard. “...Besides. I feel a little responsible. These people, they came from my world. They came here, and they're going to kill a lot of people, they're going to hurt a lot of people... just for fun. Just because they don't think the people in this world are— real enough.”
“River.” Dorian put a hand on her shoulder. “That isn't your fault.”
“He's right, y'know,” Fontaine agreed. “You can't be responsible for everything.”
“I've told her that,” he said ruefully.
“And I do know,” River said. She reached up with her hand, moved his from her shoulder—took hold of it, and held it in both of her own. “I've been trying to understand that. I know it's true, that I can't take responsibility for everything. But... I can't just expect other people to take care of this for me. Not when people are in danger like this. If there's something I can do to help...”
“You need to do what you can, at the appropriate time, to the degree that you're able,” Fontaine said, as if to herself, and then stopped. She moved past them before River could respond, and looked around the corner herself.
“Coast's clear,” she said abruptly, as if shaking away the previous conversation, the words she'd just said. As if she understood, despite her making herself clear that she wasn't interested in getting involved personally. “Let's move.”
River let go of Dorian's hand at about the same time he drew it back, feeling embarrassed only when she saw the embarrassment on his face. “Sorry,” she said. “I...”
“No,” he said quickly. “I mean. Don't worry about it. Let's talk later.” He cleared his throat, following after Fontaine. “I don't think we can spend much time looking for the other two,” he said. “If we don't find them quickly, we should just head to Marble Port. They'll spot the cult, too, and they'll meet up with us there.”
River nodded, biting her lip. “They'll figure that out,” she agreed. “They knew we wouldn't be staying here long, anyway. And we should make sure to get there while the Susurrus's people are still tied up here in Higham.”
“Hate to break it to y'all,” Fontaine interjected, still keeping an eye on the streets rather than looking back to them, “but Susurrus's cult's already been in Marble Port.”
There was silence. Then, from Dorian, quiet but heartfelt: “Shit.”
River curled her fingers into helpless fists. They'd gotten to Marble Port first? Bryan must have sent members of the cult to different cities to look for the idols simultaneously. That meant they could be going into danger right now, and it meant that Bryan might have three of the seven idols already—four, if he did already have Susurrus's. And each idol might mean more people dead, each idol 'demanded sacrifices' that Bryan would have no reason to spare in his 'game'...
Could they really just not do anything about any of this?
Then she relaxed again. She felt her nails digging into her palms, and uncurled her fingers again, taking a breath. “Mambo? Did you come here from Marble Port?”
Fontaine gave her a sidelong glance. “I did,” she agreed. “Saw them comin' in and got nervous, so I pulled back.”
“Then they probably came here from there,” River said. “If they weren't here from the start. That means they probably finished in Marble Port. If we go that way, it should be clear.”
“Do you think so?” Dorian asked.
“It makes the most sense. They shouldn't be heading back in that direction if they were already there, not unless they had to retreat and are going to attack later. Even then, if they couldn't manage it before, they'll need to call in reinforcements. We should have a few days.”
“That... actually does make sense,” Dorian admitted. “It's tactical. All right, River, that's the assumption we'll work under, then. If it's true, we should have time to get to Marble Port and wait for the others.”
“If they had trouble with strangers, they won't be too welcoming to outsiders,” Fontaine pointed out. “It's a nice area—I like waterfronts—but those fishmen have more reason than most to be suspicious of others.”
“But it's the one place the cult shouldn't be, right now,” Dorian said. “Either way, if you don't feel comfortable, you don't need to come. River wasn't joking; this isn't a pleasant trip.”
“And you're both making it clear you ain't tryin' to drag me into things,” Fontaine noted. “Aren't y'all just a couple of sweethearts. I'll head along your way for a while. There's safety in numbers, I didn't have too bad a time in Marble Port and, Bondye help me, I have a good feeling about this. Sounds ludicrous, doesn't it?”
River shook her head. “Not really. What did you call them? Lua? Esko? Maybe they are helping you.”
“Maybe,” Fontaine said slowly, narrowing her eyes at her. “Just maybe they are.” Then she smiled, and added, “And maybe it ain't a bad idea to stick around someone as lucky as you. So what's your plan for making it all the way to Marble Port from here without running into trouble?”
“I don't know about not running into trouble,” Dorian said. “But if we can get to our carriage, we shouldn't catch anyone's eye leaving the city. And if we take a detour around the outskirts,” he said to River, “Harlow and Addison might notice us.”
River nodded, a little reluctantly. “That's probably the best we can do,” she agreed.
Susurrus's people didn't seem like they were bothering with keeping anyone from leaving the city, or it might have just been early on enough that things had not yet become oppressive, the way they had in Bar Gladol. But there was no one keeping watch at the stables, and Dorian paid for the retrieval of their horses and they hid themselves away in the carriage as quickly as possible.
Fontaine visibly relaxed only once they were inside and the doors had been shut. She leaned back in the seat, stretching out her legs, and looked around. “Nice place,” she said. “Bit cramped.”
“It will be with five of us,” Dorian said. “But it will do. It cuts down on travel time and it keeps us from being too noticeable, those are the only things we need.”
“We're not going to have much money left after the ship,” River told him.
“I'm amazed you had enough to last this long,” Fontaine said, tucking her feet back more towards the bench again and leaning one arm on her knees. “How long've you been playin' this game?”
“About six years. I signed up not long after it opened up for everyone to play,” River said. “It took me a few months to get into the swing of things, but... Once I got involved with the cult, it wasn't that hard.”
The Mambo nodded. “'Bout a year on my end, and my playing was a bit spotty. Getting from Ste. Simon to Marble Port took a lot out of my virtual savings,” she said. “I wanted to get as far as possible from Bryan's little game.”
Dorian nodded. “That's fair. So... Wait.” He leaned forward, too, suddenly intrigued. “That's the center of all this? Ste. Simon? That's where Bryan was situated?”
“Not many people know it, but that's where Seneschal is most often, too,” Fontaine agreed. The cart jumped slightly as they hit a bump in the road, and they all swayed, and she added, “So I wanted out, and I am not interested in getting back in. But I'm curious. What's your plan, here? Higham, Marble Port, taking a ship? You're wanting to stop this game, fair enough, but I can't get a handle on you guys.”
“Right now, we're trying to find as many of the idols as we can before Bryan can get to them,” River said. “We didn't think it was going to be a race... Or at least not a close one like this.”
“If you're thinking of getting Tazoa's idol from the fishmen, think again.” Fontaine gave her a knowing look. “Even if they had it, they wouldn't tell anyone. You'd be a lot less welcome there after askin', too. Doubt those guys got it without a fight, or some real subtle tricks.”
“That might be true,” River admitted. “But one of our friends—Harlow—he's a devotee of Tazoa, too. He's pledged to Beset, but... he might be able to talk to them.”
“Cats and fish,” Fontaine muttered, slouching back again. “I'd like to see that.”
“Bryan isn't really the one I'm worried about.” Dorian spoke up suddenly, and River and Fontaine both looked over at him, only one of them surprised by the admission. “If Bryan's doing sacrifices, fair enough, that's bad. But he has rules he'll play by if he's taking his game seriously. Carpenter is much more unfettered. As far as we know, they're going around randomly, and killing anyone who fits their definition of 'evil', whenever they want.”
Fontaine looked uneasy. “I didn't hear much about Carpenter,” she admitted. “Met him once. Didn't like him much.”
“He burned down Malvilla,” River said.
Fontaine blinked. Then she said, flatly—nothing in her inflection making it a real question—“The whole town.”
“He killed anyone who tried to get out,” River said, and next to her, Dorian put a hand on her arm. “I didn't see much, but... We were there after it happened. A lot of people died.” She met Fontaine's eyes. “So Dorian's right. Carpenter is a lot more dangerous right now. We just...”
She faltered, looking down. “We don't really have a way of finding him right now.”
“Look. I believe you,” Fontaine said. “But I can't really help with that.”
River shook her head, not looking up. “That's not it, I just... I can't say that Bryan is safe, because he's not. But I want you to know how dangerous Carpenter is. If you ever run into him...”
There was an awkward pause. “All right,” Fontaine said finally, averting her eyes. “I'll be careful, don't you worry.”
“Believe me, River's not really recruiting people,” Dorian said. They'd obviously gotten out of the city proper; they were bumping over more uneven streets now. “She just asked me for help finding her friend. Harlow's really only with us because of Malvilla.”
“Vengeful type?”
“If there's some way to stop them without killing them...” River said, and Fontaine looked at her in surprise.
“They're playing games with people's lives and you're drawing your morality line there?” she asked, and River flushed.
“It's not right. There has to be some other way. If they could be sent back to our world—or arrested...”
She was surprised by the way Fontaine's face hardened, then. “Don't get cops involved,” she said flatly. “Little bit of advice, darlin'. You won't like the results if you do. You're always gonna care a lot more about mass murder of a 'lesser' group than the police do.”
“Lesser?” River repeated, startled. “But the police used to be NPCs, too. They wouldn't...”
“Think about it for a minute.” Fontaine crossed one leg over the other, looking at her critically. “Not NPCs. That's the group Bryan and his people are thinkin' of when they're doing their killing, but do you really think the cops will care as long as they're not killing the rich? Their priority's their employers; always has been,” she said bitterly. “So what you've got left are the poor, maybe homeless or criminal, minorities—stand-ins for minorities, you know how much Lovecraft and his friends loved that—people practicing 'fringe religions'...
“The police might arrest Bryan. If you bring it to their attention, prove it's him, and if they decide his cult makes 'em nervous. And good luck. But if you think a bunch of people worshiping 'evil' out in the middle of nowhere gettin' killed is gonna be enough to make them go after Carpenter... It's naive, that's all I'm saying.”
There was silence, and then Dorian let out a long breath. “And here I was thinking the biggest problem would be Bryan just having his people kill the cops,” he admitted.
Fontaine smirked. “That too.”
River really thought about things as they went on, as they went a circle around the edges of the city in passive search. She was more than subdued; Fontaine's words had shaken her. She didn't question them. Even with all of her advantages, she'd known acutely for some years that the police were very unlikely to be her friends. She hadn't thought of involving them because she thought they were good, or safe, or not corrupt.
But she'd thought they might be able to do something, that they were at least an alternative to death. Having it pointed out to her that they might just not care, and that they might be killed if they did, had shaken her.
“I think that's all we can do,” Dorian said finally, after about an hour, and River nodded.
“They'll find us in Marble Port,” she said. “I'm sure of it.” But she chewed at her nails nervously, and she didn't know if she believed it any more.
They were about twenty miles from Marble Port, still, when something landed on the roof of the carriage.
River had been dozing, and from the way Fontaine had been sitting and the way she jerked, she had been, too. Dorian tensed up, and reached into his jacket, but there was a knock at the carriage door and then the familiar voice of Harlow said, “Stop the carriage. You're going to drive into a tekeli.”
The carriage stopped. River followed Dorian outside, astonished to see Harlow and Addison this far out. Harlow was lying across the roof of the carriage, leaning over the side, and he dropped down to grin at them; Addison was a little further up the road, closer to the tekeli, which was pulsating oddly and blinking a few eyes at them.
Dorian seemed about as surprised as she was to see them here. “You saw the cult, too?”
“We saw them coming into the city,” Harlow agreed. “Addison wanted to follow them, but I knew you'd head to Marble Port as soon as you noticed.”
“Okay, so you were right,” Addison called over, agreeably. They took a step back as the tekeli burbled slightly forwards, then subsided again. “I think this thing's guarding the way, though. It's a good thing you stopped the coach; it probably would have eaten it,” they added.
“They don't want the Susurrus cult coming back.” Fontaine stepped out of the carriage too, putting on her hat, and Harlow's head swiveled towards her immediately. “Fishmen work with the tekeli; it must be here on orders not to let strangers in.”
“You don't have to explain that to me,” Harlow agreed, grinning and putting a hand on one hip. “Are you picking up more strays, River?”
“You'd be one of those strays too, you know,” Addison said, and Harlow turned to, maturely, stick his tongue out at them.
“I'm no stray,” Fontaine said, “and she didn't pick me up—more's the pity.” A glance at River, and to her surprise, a wink, as if sharing a private joke, and she blushed. Again. “I'm playing keep away from the cult, same as you. Fortunately, this big softie is proof that the coast is clear in Marble Port... Unfortunately, it means they're goin' to be as unwelcoming as I thought.”
“Unless it lets us through,” River said, and the others turned to her in surprise. “It's trying to keep out strangers, right? People who might be dangerous? Is there any way of proving to it that we're not?”
“They are intelligent,” Fontaine admitted. “More intelligent than they usually let on. But as far as the fishmen know, if we make it past, we may have just killed it.”
“No.” Harlow spoke up in disagreement, leaning against the coach and glancing between Fontaine and the creature, apparently relaxed and grinning faintly, but expression sharp. “Think about it. There wouldn't be any point to just leaving one tekeli guard here like this. Either there are a lot more and attacking one would go badly for us, or the tekeli here have some way of letting Marble Port know when something's wrong. Or both.”
Fontaine's brows shot up. “And you must be Harlow.”
Harlow's expression became a full-fledged grin, and he laughed. “Is that a good thing?”
“You're familiar with all this, you're sharp, you're clever. And the way you've been talking, you revere cats, I can tell,” she added. She cocked her head, nodded it slightly towards the tekeli. “So the theory we're goin' with is that we can win over the guard, here, and the town won't attack us on sight?”
Harlow scratched the back of his head, still grinning. “It might be embarrassing if we're only half right!”
“Okay,” Addison said, decisively. They stepped forward, crossing their arms and looking at the tekeli, clearly thinking. “So... You can understand us, right? How do we talk to something like you?”
The eyes all blinked, out of sync, slipping formlessly over the shifting flesh. Then it opened several of its mouths, and spoke in several voices, surprisingly clear and in harmony with one another:
“Wondered when you'd ask,” it said. “Less rude. 'Something',” it added, with audible derisiveness, clicking a few probably-tongues.
Addison blinked, themself. Then they blushed, almost as red as their hair. “Oh. Oh, uh. I'm really sorry.”
Harlow started laughing, supportively. “Addison,” he teased. “You're the purr-fect diplomat!”
“I'm sorry,” Addison repeated. “But we really need to get past. Is there any way we can prove to you that we're not planning on hurting anyone?”
“No visitors,” the tekeli said. “Not strangers. Not allies. Susurrus betrays.”
Fontaine looked slightly troubled at that, River noticed, but she didn't say anything. Harlow stepped forward instead, raising his hands with a winning grin.
“I'm not an ally, though,” he said, walking up almost to the tekeli. It blinked a few eyes at him, reabsorbing some of the ones it shut and opening new ones, and he added, “I'm the same as the fishmen. A cousin. You can tell that I follow Beset, right?”
A beat of silence, and then: “Yes. Cat.”
Then, suddenly, the tekeli reared up. No, River realized—not reared. It got taller, because it was stretching itself out like it was taffy, totally boneless and formless, going from a lump to a long strand. Then it twisted strangely, and her eyes watered sympathetically the same way they had when listening to Fontaine speak Aklo; it seemed to change size completely, compressing itself or tucking some parts of its mass away... elsewhere.
When it finished, it was roughly the size of a person, though still large—perhaps a foot taller than Fontaine—and shaped more like a cephalopod than anything, some tentacles acting as feet and some as arms, and a few more looking more like wings than anything, placed closer to its “back.” It seemed to have the right number and placement of mouths, now, with just the one on what seemed to be the front of its face, but possibly couldn't quite understand the idea of having a limited amount of eyes.
“Another of Tazoa,” it added, with one voice now, a singular set of vocal chords. “Still, a stranger. Was given a job.”
“To protect, right?” River asked. It didn't need to turn at all to look at her, but turned slightly anyway. “To protect Marble Port. The people there.”
“Yes.”
“We want to help,” she said. “We want to protect people, too. Are they afraid that Susurrus's followers are going to come back? We want to stop what they're doing, to keep them from hurting anyone else.”
“Help,” it repeated. Then, “Help by leaving alone. Followers of Tazoa called Beset, e' athaiy'-ei... Susurrus.”
“Okay.” Fontaine spoke up then, uncrossing her arms and straightening up from where she was leaning against the carriage, stepping away from it. She raised her hands in surrender for a moment before letting them drop. “Fair enough, tekeli. Myself, I wasn't set on coming in again, anyway.”
River wanted to protest, but then the Mambo continued, “But you should know, and you can tell your friends this: Susurrus didn't betray your town. You think that's its style? The man behind this, he's only human, and he sure ain't listening to anything Susurrus has got to say. Y'all were betrayed by people—not gods.”
She tipped her hat to the figure. “Good day to you.”
Fontaine turned away—and then smirked, winking at River. She started back towards the coach, almost exaggerated in her intentions to get back inside, but after a moment's pause, the tekeli made a sound like water burbling in a drain.
It was a sound that was difficult to parse, but apparently not threatening. It spoke up again. “No orders? No goal for their god.” Then, more suspicious, “Susurrus not interfering.”
“Not yet,” Fontaine agreed. “Not sure why. Maybe just because everyone's just going along with this guy. No one's calling its attention, and why would they? They're makin' trouble with the followers of its allies.”
The tekeli seemed to ruminate on that, or at least it seemed to be giving it due consideration. It was hard to tell, it had no recognizable facial expressions, except for the corners of its lips being turned down in a frown.
“Please.” River spoke up earnestly, taking a step forward but then stopping there, not trying to get too close. “If we can't come into town, will you ask one of Rashi's followers to come here instead? We just need to talk to someone. Then we'll go. We don't want to make trouble.”
“Followers prefer ocean. Beachfront. Like forests less,” the tekeli disagreed, and River's heart sank a little, at a loss. There didn't seem to be much else they could offer, any real way they could prove themselves... But then the entity said, continuing, “Come with me. Follow.”
River relaxed, smiling in relief. “Thank you,” she said, as the tekeli turned, and started to head down the road away from the carriage, and still looked back at them all.
“No thanks,” it said. “You are not in good positions. Will have to convince Head of Mires. Not me. If you are lying,” it added, “you should have gone away.”
Dorian visibly hesitated; Fontaine and Addison both looked alarmed. Even Harlow was looking calculating, eyes darting about as if searching for a clear path in case he decided they needed to run. River felt a shiver of uncertainty herself, wondering if they were doing the right thing in risking this. If Marble Port could take care of itself, then going to retrieve The Nameless Trespasser's idol might be more important. If they couldn't convince this 'head'...
Harlow made a quiet, dissatisfied sound suddenly, very nearly a growl down in his throat. “Too late,” he muttered, and River saw then the movement in the woods, that he must have spotted several moments before her. The still-formless shapes of other tekeli lined the path, perhaps only half a dozen, but reminding them—if they tried to run, if the tekeli decided to pursue, they couldn't be sure how fast they could move, and if the tekeli caught them up...
The one in almost humanoid shape stood on the path, waiting patiently for them. With no other choice left, they followed after it, and into Marble Port.