Duendewood: Children of Ruin, part two

"You want to do what?" asked Sun, looking aghast. She was dressed in a robe of bronze and white, which contrasted intriguingly with the gold scales that covered her body. 

Tybalt looked up at her. "I want to found a Temple to our father," he said simply. He was a true elf, dark-haired and pale-skinned, slender and graceful. 

"It isn't really a matter of want," Azrael added. "These two've done it."

"How?" Sun was a cleric of Amun, newly appointed; as far as she knew, this shouldn't be possible.

Tybalt shrugged. "We built an altar, and we pledged ourselves, and he answered."

Sun tilted her head. "So you can actually cast spells?" She was perceptive enough to realize that, of her True Elf half-siblings, Tybalt would have been the one to set this up, and the most likely to have become an actual cleric. ...Of our father, she thought, still trying to wrap her mind around that. 

Tybalt seemed to realize that some sort of demonstration was in order; he gestured and spoke, and a ball of water appeared in the air and splashed to the ground. 

"And I can smite," Ash confirmed. 

"Okay, that's pretty cool," said Risk, who'd been training in unarmed combat -- if fighting with his claws could be said to be unarmed. Like Sun and their brother Scar, he was a golden half-dragon, with all that that entailed.

Scar nudged him. "We should take them with us." He'd turned to his own natural aptitude for magic, begun tapping into it. 

"Take them with us where?" asked Morrigan, who looked deceptively like nothing more than a high elf. 

"Oh, right, I didn't tell you yet." Scar smiled, charming as ever. 

Rose and Skyflower drifted over. "Okay," said Rose, "what are we plotting today?" Skyflower was another of the True Elves, but Rose looked more like Morrigan and could easily have passed as her full sister.

"Heroics," said Scar dramatically, throwing up one hand for emphasis. "Apparently there's a band of gnolls that have drifted down into the Ladriaio Woods, and are using the Sweetwoods to stay hidden so they can raid some of the outlying settlements around Aldpond. Aldpond doesn't have any significant fighting force, and the King's Troops at Wellfort are stretched pretty thin, and haven't been able to mount a significant counterattack or effective patrols. The king himself is busy putting down a revolt of the Wildlanders,"

"I have questions," said Skyflower. "Starting with: how do you know this?"

Scar shrugged. "Magical insight, of course."

"He means there was a notice posted at the tavern the other night," Risk corrected, "What do you think, my siblings and half-siblings?"

Ash shrugged, touched the falchion that was slung across her back. "I'm a Paladin of Ruin," she said. "I'm in." 

Tybalt nodded; his falchion was belted at his waist. "Is anybody not in?"

There was a long moment of silence.

"Oh, this is going to be fun," said Scar. "Anybody down there who didn't know our father's name before is about to find out." He glanced at Sun. "With credit to Amun as well, of course."

She nodded back at him. "All we need to do now is get down there. And I have an idea about that." 

Duendewood: Children of Ruin, part one

"What are you doing?" asked Azrael, watching as his brother placed a pair of candles on the exposed chunk of limestone that had come loose from the hillside behind it. It was well back from their mother's hidden forge, which was already isolated from almost everything. 

"It's a shrine," Tybalt told him. He was the middle child and the most thoughtful of the siblings. He was also the most slender of the three, closer to a typical True Elf than either of his siblings. "For our father."

"Not the Highwaymen?" asked Ash, curious. She was the oldest, dark-haired and stocky, already practiced at arms and eager to learn everything their mother could teach her.

"Not yet," said Tybalt. "Just Ruin. If we get more worshipers, we can add rites for the others."

"We?" asked Azrael. He was solidly built too, like their parents, and spent most of his time assisting their mother at the forge. 

"We," Tybalt confirmed. "Our father helped defeat Galvera twice: once here in Midgard, and again in Asgard. He deserves to have his own clergy--" Tybalt looked at Ash. "--And his own martial order. You up for that, big sister?"

Azrael leaned back against a tree and watched Ash consider that. His sister loved combat, and she'd taken to the falchion in honor of their father. "You think I should become a paladin in service to our father," she said slowly. 

"I think our father deserves to have an order of paladins devoted to him. It can't be me -- I've sparred with you, and by comparison, well, I suck. Azrael's devoted to the forge -- and our mother's craft -- and  while I'd like to see him become the first lay member of of our father's church, I don't see him becoming a paladin."

"You've been thinking about this," Ash observed, studying Tybalt's face. "What would you say our father should be the god of...?"

"Battle, and Travel, and Justice," Tybalt replied. "That's what I've got so far."

"Outcasts," suggested Azrael. "Found families."

"Good," admitted Tybalt. 

"Revenge?" suggested Ash. "No, that's not quite right. But... Endurance, maybe? Like, all those things that happened and he just kept going."

"Endurance is good," Tybalt affirmed. 

There was a moment of shared silence. "Yes," said Ash. "I could pledge myself to that."

"Good," said Tybalt. "Because I'm going to become his first cleric." 

"All right," said Azrael. "You're going to need lay worshipers too, and I'll be the first."

Tybalt pulled the tinder box from his belt, opened it, and touched a dried reed to the ember inside. He used the burning reed to light the candles. "Sister, we'll need your blade on the altar."

Ash nodded, unbuckled her baldric, and laid it and the falchion it held atop the chunk of limestone. Tybalt had brought along a bow; he strung it and placed it across the falchion. 

"No," said Ash. "That's not right. Bow on the bottom, Falchion on top."

Tybalt nodded and reversed them. 

"Oh!" said Azrael. "Just a minute." He hurried back down to his room beside the forge, and returned with a small ruby. "For the gem he got from the Druid Hierophant, and returned to the next."

"Yes," Tybalt said firmly. "A contribution from each of us, to complete the connection. Step up and touch the altar."

They came forward and put their hands on the rectangular chunk of limestone, regarded the candles. It was almost dark, that liminal time when day gave way to night. "I pledge myself as a Priest of Ruin the Defender, who in his life was Oathkeeper, Warrior, and Traveler."

Ash said, "I pledge myself as a Paladin of Ruin the Endurer, who in his life was a survivor, an explorer, and a warrior."

Azrael nodded thoughtfully. "I pledge myself as a simple worshiper of Ruin the Father, who in his life was protector, outcast, and family-builder."

There was a long moment of silence. 

Then a silent voice echoed through the trees. MY CHILDREN, it said, I AM SO VERY GRATEFUL. 

Music: Friend or Foe?

t.A.T.u.

DoT: Retribution Comes In Many Forms

"It wasn't them," said Faldor. "They're using one of the Guild safehouses under the lower east spoke, but we've been watching them and they were doing something for the druids the night Nikilo went missing."

Across the table from him, Cedric Bloodblade shifted his weight, then took a sip of his beer. It wasn't good beer, but then it wasn't particularly bad beer either. "I'm almost disappointed," he said, "but likely that means that this one really was the Redblades." He considered that. "Turf wars are bad for business, but maybe Mad Mattie's forgotten that -- or Varna's decided to turn his ambitions in another direction."

"I'd put money on Varna," said Dalia. She was the gang's wizard, but she was also good at digging up information and putting things together. Rumor had it she was Cedric's cousin, and there was some resemblance -- but if so, neither of them had ever bothered to address it.

Cedric was thinking. Like Dalia, he was good at that; it was no small part of the reason that Faldor enjoyed being part of the Mist Eyes, even if they were a comparatively poor, small gang. The Bloodblade wasn't the most dangerous of the gang leaders, not in person -- though he could hold his own when he needed to. No, Cedric had gotten his position by being persuasive, perceptive, and good at planning.  

If Dalia was Cedric's left hand, Amon was his right. Surprisingly lean for a half-orc, he was deadly in combat and could put an arrow through somebody's eye from two spokes away. He spoke in a smooth baritone: "I wouldn't rule out Mad Mattie entirely, but I agree. It's more likely Varna. Won't be Verity; she only cares about two things -- protecting the Red Blades and that weird religion of hers." He sighed. "Sorry, Boss, looks like we get two different problems at once." 

Faldor watched as Cedric shook his head. "No, what we have here are opportunities." He looked at Faldor. "How many did you say were in this crew?"

"Five, maybe six. Plus a trio of street kids they picked up."

"And they didn't try to kill you. Instead, they distracted you so they could get what they wanted. Then they pulled that job up in Greycloak territory and got away clean... again, without killing anybody. They finally gave themselves away by helping out a local merchant, maybe to protect those kids they've been working with."

Faldor nodded. "That's how it looks, Boss."

"Etiquette says they crossed the Guild, they have to pay. Very well, I don't disagree. But 'pay' can mean a lot of things."

Amon tilted his head, considering. Dalia was already smiling. "Bring them in?" she asked. 

Cedric nodded, and absently reached down to touch the Bloodblade itself. "Yeah." He looked back at Faldor. "What I'm hearing is that they're talented but inexperienced, unprofessional."

Faldor sighed. "The one who set me up spends his mornings baking and the evenings playing music. I'm pretty sure their elf is dating one of the bartenders down at the Bluddy Nose, and I have no idea how the druid fits into all this. I don't think they're professionals." He considered that, then added: "At least, not at the Guild's sort of work."

"Do we think they killed Anderlin Greycloak?" Cedric was looking at Dalia. 

"I don't know," she said cautiously, "and I don't want to guess. If they did, it's the first time that we know of that they actually killed a person, and the group that hit the place were obviously in disguise but also apparently all humans. Shorewards, though, the group that's being blamed was around the right size and used some similar tactics, and they definitely did take whatever Greycloak and the merchant were making a deal over, along with Greycloak's rapier -- which they were smart enough to drop in the bay."

"All right," said Cedric. "I'll bite. The group 'that's being blamed'? You don't think they did it?"

"The wounds were all made by a dagger -- and poisoned, in Greycloak's case. Almost certainly the same weapon. I don't think this group has anybody who's up to that level of precision."

"Okay, I'm speaking above my place here and I know it," said Faldor, "but I have to ask: how do you know that?"

Dalia smiled. "You know that bakery on lower spoke east?"

"The Bread and Board," Faldor answered immediately. "Good stuff. Yeah, I approached the musician there precisely because the owner's brother... is a member... of the Greycloaks."

Dalia was smiling as he put it together. "I chatted him up as he was on way back up. He recognized me, and was very polite about it. We're having dinner tomorrow night."

 "Huh," Amon mused. "I know Vallista got her father's rapier back -- the Gleaners stepped in on that one."

Cedric nodded. "It wouldn't do to underestimate them, much as they keep to themselves. There are reasons that Tiassa reports directly to Othar Fastaxe. And that was a sharp move on their part." He leaned back in his seat, finished his beer, and set the heavy pewter stein back down on the table. "Okay, let's run this through. They show up out of nowhere, and take the delivery from Faldor but don't hurt him. Then they hit the woodcrafter up in Greycloak territory -- and again, manage to do it without hurting anybody. Then they -- somehow -- hit Telk's place over in Nightwalker's territory. We think. That's around the time that Tamsin's Tumblers disappear, probably because the Greycloaks are looking for answers and their members are just a little too similar to this crew."

"They'll either show back up undamaged, or nobody'll ever hear about them again." Amon suggested, and Cedric nodded. 

"But then they screw up," Cedric said. "They approach Bilk's shop, no disguises, and clear some kids out of the back for him. You see them," he added, looking at Faldor. 

Faldor nodded. "Only I can't follow them, because they're paying attention and the kids are guiding them in some ways that would make it obvious if I try to follow. But, again, nobody really gets hurt."

Cedric nodded at that. "Right. Then Anderlin Greycloak gets killed at some kind of exchange with a merchant, one that apparently even his own people don't know about. Vallista takes over the Greycloaks -- which isn't a problem for us, but'll probably surprise some people who think they might be vulnerable --  and I think we can assume that even if this group wasn't involved, someone is taking advantage of the disruptions they're creating. Meanwhile, they also seem to be working with the druids, helping out some people on their spoke, and making connections inside the Guild. What's the angle here?"

"Disrupt the Guild," Dalia said. "Set us against the Red Blades, the Greycloaks and other mid-level gangs against each other, and maybe call the Beggars into question as well."

Faldor nodded; so did Amon. It was almost a shame that Obstreperous wasn't present; the bugbear's advisor, a goblin who called himself Bean, might have had some interesting insights to offer as well.  

"It's not just some random crew who came into port and decided to do their own thing," said Faldor. "They've been too careful about the Guild for that. And they just don't act like career criminals, mostly. But Dalia's right: everything they've done has hurt the Guild overall. I don't think that's coincidence, but I don't see where this particular crew would come up with that goal on their own -- not without being a lot more careful about it."

Cedric nodded at that. "Then maybe we give them some guidance. They have talent, and they understand restraint." He looked around, took in Dalia and Amon's opinion with a glance, and then turned back to Faldor. "I need you to make them an offer..." 

Zero Draft!

Well, it's done. I have finished the zero draft (i.e. essentially unedited opening version) of the Horny Superteens book. Is it publishable? Probably not at this stage. Is it coherent? Yes, it hangs together and I don't think there are any significant plot holes. Is the plot a satisfying arc? I really don't know, I was thinking about a lot of 90s-era comics when I was writing it, so it kind of moves from one conflict to another to a third related conflict, and finally resolves that one. Could it be a series? ...Yes, I could write at least a sequel to this one, and probably a third to round out a trilogy. Is it any good? Well, the sections I've gone back and re-read (either to double-check details or just because my brain was still kind of there brought me joy, so there's that. Do the Horny Superteens "get any"? Yes. Oh dear ye immortal gods, yes. 

Frankly, the whole project has basically been keeping me sane this year, which is the primary reason that I wrote it. Now it's time to set it aside for a bit, get some perspective, and then go back and make a second pass at it -- and clean it up enough to let my trusted advisors give it a read and send me feedback. 

Meanwhile, probably on Monday, I'll be starting on my next project: a young were-squirrel who's been sent to stop the local baron from taking over his village. I know what the opening looks like, and I know the tone I'm going for. This one is going to have more a fairy tale flavor to it, and it's definitely a coming-of-age story. 

We'll see how it goes. I have a couple of others lined up behind it, so if I run aground I still have other options. And shifting to a different story sometimes makes the first story jealous, so there's that. Like I said, we'll just have to see. 

StV: New Member

"You're sure about this?" asked Charles, and Harbinger nodded. 

"I'm damned sure I want to try it," Harbinger told him. "If it doesn't work out, it's... what's that saying? No harm, no foul?"

He shrugged. "I don't actually know that one. But okay, nobody gets angry, nobody blames anybody?"

Harbinger nodded. "Exactly. Team Phoenix could use somebody to help with our mobility, and your other abilities would be hugely useful as well."

He took a deep breath. "And the part where I don't actually know how to fight?"

"You don't have to. You just have to keep yourself safe."

"Huh." He said. "Well, Troll thinks I can do it."

Harbinger nodded. "She's right. Plus, we're not a combat-heavy team, and if it really comes down to fighting that won't be your job anyway." 

"Okay. That would be good. I mean, it's interesting stuff to learn, I'm just not any good at it yet."

Harbinger paused outside the door. "That's fine. You don't have to be. Come meet the rest of the team." 

Music: Give Me Danger

Iggy Pop and the Stooges: 

Honeymoon!

Greetings! We are a newly-married couple, arriving for our honeymoon. We may have gotten a little lost, though -- the roads around here don't seem to match the map. Is this the Haunted Castle of the Vampires, where we booked a three-night stay with scenic views and unique experiences? It is? Oh, excellent! Well, do let us come right in, I'm sure we'll be very comfortable here.

How is this Tuesday?

The bushes tried to grab me on my way out the door this morning. The grass is looking unusually sharp and crystalline, too. The sun is a burning eye in the center of a vague but unimaginably vast shape, and I swear the clouds are frowning at me. Did dogs always have this many legs? I thought that was caterpillars. 

And -- God damn it -- I really need the road to stay still, instead of swaying around like this. If it uproots itself, it's going to make it really hard to get to work. Might have to go off-road and hope nothing comes down on me... 

How is this my Tuesday? 

State of Me, part whatever

Good weekend, with an interesting change of course in our D&D game that allowed me reintroduce some NPCs from earlier in the game: the group went down to the island's main fight club, the Bluddy Nose.This involved a mildly unwise amount of showing their faces, but our Druid disguised herself as a dog, and a couple of the others actually were in disguise. (Not the cleric, though -- her girlfriend works the bar, so naturally she was going as herself. The paladin got to have another match with one of local brawlers, who turns out to have a massive crush on her from last time they fought. Overall, it was an unexpected change of pace, but nothing I couldn't adapt to and I still got to insert the primary plot point that I had planned for the session. Next session should be pretty interesting.

Secondborn is back in school, and we're getting ready to get Firstborn moved back in as well. He'll have a roommate this year, which I think will be good for him. The new kitten is still doing well, and now displays no fear of the dog whatsoever. (He also got his morning bowl of food, and then five minutes later was back to meowing at me in a demand to be fed, because clearly he has never been fed ever in his whole fluffy life.) 

We spent Friday night with the grandparents, eating pizza and watching movies -- Now You See Me 2, in this case, which was fun.  

Other than that, not much to report, so I'm going to sign off and get back to work.  

 

Quick Note

I feel like maybe I don't say this often enough or loudly enough, but I am tremendously grateful to be married to Beautiful Wife. 

First Day Of

Brought Secondborn to school a bit earlier than necessary -- at his request -- and found a bunch of his friends parked at a table out front playing Magic: The Gathering. Apparently there is now something known as a "squirrel deck" and apparently it is the most annoying thing in creation. Anyway, got a nice shot of all them flipping off the camera for the first day of school (which, sadly, I won't share here for privacy reasons) and a couple of good First Day Of shots of Secondborn by himself. Dare I hope this will mark a good start to the school year and a better attitude on his end? I mean, hope springs eternal, but frying pans without fires are few and far between...

Anyway, he's due to go inside and pick up a Chromebook as soon as the place opens properly, and he seemed pretty chipper. We stopped by Starbucks to grab some breakfast, which was expensive but worth it, though the poor Starbucks workers were absolutely inundated by the First Day of School crowd.  He didn't even ask for any caffeine, so I guess he's about as ready as it's possible to be. 

Challenge: Not Feeling Well

Prompt: What I read when I'm not feeling well

Comfort reads! The short, easy answer is that I tend to go back and re-read books that I enjoyed previously. (Or, alternatively, play video games that fall into the same general category.) 

That includes some stand-alones: 

• Martha Wells, Wheel of the Infinite
• Martha Wells, City of Bones
• Roger Zelazny, Lord of Light
• Jennifer Crusie, Welcome to Temptation
• Jennifer Crusie, Faking It
• Jennifer Crusie, Bet Me

It also includes some series: 

• Roger Zelazny, Chronicles of Amber
• Barbara Hambly, the Darwath Cycle
• Robert E Howard, various Conan short stories
• Martha Wells, The Books of the Raksura

And, as I mentioned, a couple of video games that occupy a similarly comfortable/comforting niche for me: 

• Infamous and Infamous 2
• Infamous Second Son
• Soul Reaver (and various associated)
• Star Wars: Battlefront (the PS2 version, not the newer one)

There are a few others that I might jump back to if I were feeling poorly and the mood took me, but these are my go-to list.  

* * * 

(This post is part of the Wednesday Weekly Blogging Challenge. You can find links to other writers' answers over at Long and Short Reviews.)   

StV: Her Mother's Daughter, part two

Julie recognized the number on her phone, but ignored it and shoved it back in her pocket. Whatever was going down, her parents had brought it on themselves -- and let the Prophet drag her in and use her as His tool to try to clean up His mess. She wasn't having any more of that. She was damned lucky that Harbinger hadn't killed her -- or left her for the Hounds. 

But she'd made him an offer, and he'd accepted it. That meant she need to to act -- to let him know what she knew, to help him take down the Prophet. Maybe she'd get lucky, and Harbinger taking out the Prophet would turn her back to normal. Of course, if it did then she'd need to figure out what to do about Dastan, who was... not a deviant. An Anomaly, though, however harmless and nice he might be. 

Gods, my parents would hate that, she thought. It shouldn't have made the prospect of going out with him more appealing, but it did. She really wasn't sure how she felt about her parents right now, but angry seemed like a good start to it. 

Okay, so step one is go talk to Harbinger again, and step two is... sort out my fucking life.

It wasn't the best plan Julie had ever come up with, but it wasn't the worst either.  

StV: Florida Man, part fifteen

Tom Wilson/Florida Man,

I figure I owe you a letter at least, since you're probably getting antsy in there. Word is you've been well-behaved, and Araktul hasn't intervened. I figure that's you on your best behavior. So I wanted you to know that I'm cheering for you, and very impressed so far. And yeah, you probably still hate me for bringing you in, but you know the rules as well as I do. Better, maybe. 

I was right in thinking that people would be interested in you even with your record, so you'll definitely have some opportunities available if you keep this up. I'll tell you more about it if you write me back.

Yours, 

That Annoying Kid,
Cloudburst

* * *

Kid, 

Fuck off. I hate this, I hate you, and I can't believe I let you talk me into staying here. I haven't had a beer in two weeks. Do you have any idea what that's like? That's some kind of war crime or something. 

I mean. Yeah, all right, could be worse. I get fan mail, if you believe that. Including one woman who's clearly out of her mind because she says she wants to marry me. Still can't believe you actually wrote me, though. Means a lot. 

I'm staying put. Been thinking about some of the things you said, too. Like... out of everybody I know, the only two people who'd stand up for me are Araktul and you. And you're right, that's kind of sad. So I'll do my time and see what happens after. Not saying I'll reform or anything, just

Anyway thanks for writing,

Florida Man 

StV: Her Mother's Daughter, part one

Well, at least now I don't have to worry anymore about doing the wrong thing and getting myself damned, Julie thought to herself. I just went and damned myself, openly and knowingly. There's no coming back from this.

Maybe I can just be done with the whole thing...

Julie watched with something like religious awe as Harbinger strolled off to deal with the soldiers ahead of them. The lights overhead flickered and went out, and she switched her eyes over to what she thought of as Deviant Vision, where she could see in the dark and also spot Anomalies. "It's okay," she said to the small crowd of recently-freed prisoners behind her. "I can still see."

"Nobody's coming," Dastan said, beside her. He was around her own age, for all that she looked a half-decade younger. He was also what she'd been taught to believe was Deviant and Damned, but... his power was just that he could sense the lives around him, and he seemed... nice. "Harbinger is... taking care of things."

Everybody fell silent. There were screams coming from around the corner ahead, then silence there as well. Julie considered taking a look, but then somebody in front of them was talking, the specifics muffled by echoes. Harbinger had been nice too, in his way, but he was also... this.

"Dastan?" she asked, softly. 

He shook his head. "There's another Anomaly confronting him, but it's... weirdly incomplete?"

Then there were gunshots, echoing and nearly deafening in the concrete-walled corridors. "The other one is gone, and Harbinger is moving forward. We should just wait here."

Julie nodded. After a moment, she asked: "How did you end up with a name like Dastan?"

He shot her a grin, which should have been invisible in the blackness. She still would have heard it in his voice, though: "So, you have to know two things about my parents," he said. "One, they're huge nerds. And two, they really love the whole Prince of Persia franchise, including the movie. So when I came along, well... Dastan."

"Art and Computer Science, was it?" Julie mused quietly. 

He nodded. "I come by it honestly." 

Music: Bad Moon Rising

Voices In Your Head featuring Avi Kaplan:

StV: Florida Man, part fourteen

"Where is she? Where is that little bitch. I'm going to fucking kill her! When I get out of here..."

Cloudburst came around the corner approached the cell where Florida Man was being held. His face was flushed red, and he was pulling at the bars hard enough to make them creak. He was also covered with the thick, leathery skin of an alligator. "That's still a pretty cool power," she told him. 

"You! You brought me in after I told you I wasn't going back to jail? Get over here so I can strangle you."

Cloudburst forced herself to keep her pace steady. She wasn't used to being yelled at, and she didn't like it. "Here," she said, when she got close enough to be just out of reach. "About half the deputies don't want anything to do with you, and the other half want to kill you for shooting those cops. So, the Sheriff said I could be the one to bring you Advil and Gatorade. I figured you'd be pretty hungover."

He scowled at her. "Don't want 'em."

 She raised her eyebrows. "You sure? That was a lot of beer and a lot of sun. Even with your gifts, you've got to be feeling pretty rough."

"Fuck you." 

She waited, and after a moment he lowered his head. "All right. Hand 'em over."

She tilted her head. 

"Please, you goddamned bitch. Please hand them over."

"All right." She held out the pill bottle, then yanked it back when he lunged forward and tried to grab her hand. "You keep this up, and I will walk away and leave you with your headache."

He took a deep breath, then went back to looking fully human. "Fine. You win."

She held the pills out again, and this time he took them. Then the same with the Gatorade bottle.

"That's a big bottle," he said, as he unscrewed the lid. 

"Yeah, well, you're a big asshole."

He glared at her, then chuckled. "All right, kid. I get it, you're trying." He popped a handful of painkillers, then poured maybe a fourth of the bottle down after them. "And you're right about the hangover, too. I'm just not used to having anybody try to take care of me."

He took another long drink, and she asked, "You don't have any friends?"

"I do, but they're all assholes too. I don't always like them, but we get each other. Except Araktul. Ancient alligator-god is the most stand-up guy I know."

Cloudburst shook her head. "Look, I'm not your mom, but you could be doing so much better than this. Do me a favor?"

"After you threw me in jail?"

She nodded. "Stay here. Do the time. Stay out of trouble. I can't promise anything, but I do have some connections... and I think a lot of people would be interested in hiring you once your time's up. You could be earning real money for doing some really interesting stuff."

"I don't... Whoever you think I am, I am not that person."

She shrugged. "Maybe not. But you could be. If you put in the work."

He shook his head. "Kid..."

"Just think about it," she said. She turned away and started walking up the corridor, feeling his eyes on her the whole way.