Tales of the Many-Tailed - 7 - A Meeting of Minds (Patreon)

What have I gotten myself into? I should have stayed hidden.

Count Runecroft stroked her back possessively as they made for the far end of the library, and, playing along, Edith leaned into it. He aimed for the line of bookshelves at the far end, where a decoratively carved panel stood between bookcases. They were nearly to the end of the shelves when he turned Edith toward him, his hand over her shoulder as he pressed closer. His proximity quickened her breathing, and she tilted her head back to meet his hooded gaze.

This could be bad. Too much like my teenage body, stupidly high libido and underdeveloped self-control. Maybe I should just jump into the shadows and run, before I run my mouth.

A click emerged from the wood panel under Runecroft’s touch, and the whole thing split in two as Edith’s bare skin pressed against it. Runecroft guided her backwards along a tight stone passage until the panel flexed back, closing behind him. His firm hands on her shoulders turned her around to face a set of grey granite stairs leading up. The air in the confined space was so unnaturally dry it made her nostrils itch; the only odours were her own arousal and Runecroft’s masculine scent.

“I hope you’re planning to bend me over a desk,” Edith quipped, butterflies rampaging in her stomach as her thighs grew damp.

Runecroft’s nostrils flared as her musk scented the tight confines. “There won’t be anything happening besides conversation. This staircase and my office simply have wards to prevent eavesdroppers and scrying.”

“I’m bitterly disappointed, and my dress is going to have a damp patch,” Edith declared hotly.

“You and it will survive. The door at the top of the stairs is unlocked.”

Edith stalked ahead of him, the granite rasping across her uncallused feet.

“Where are your shoes, Madam Amber?”

“A strap broke,” Edith said. “A nice maid said she’d see what she could do.”

“Oh?”

“Grey-haired lady, Treas? I think I got her name right.”

“Or did you steal that dress that doesn’t quite fit right?” Runecroft reached out and tugged at the sash that kept the fabric tight.

“I certainly didn’t steal it,” Edith huffed.

“Your allure had me distracted, so let’s agree on two things. I’ll ignore your lies up to now, and you tell me more about these guards. The possibility of zealots, even sympathisers among the watchers, is the only reason I’m not tossing you in the dungeon.”

The thought of getting my hands on all those lovely books must have short-circuited my brain. I got warned to be subtle and patient; I shouldn’t have changed what was working.

An orange glow from citrine spaced along the ceiling gave the stairwell an intimate, rather than oppressive, feel, and Edith climbed to an iron-bound door. The handle, shaped as a gecko with its splayed feet above the wood, moved easily despite the slab of wood and then woollen carpet it swung over. The scent of old parchment, oiled leather, masses of paper, and aged wool leaked through first. As the opening widened to more than a hand’s width, Edith’s gaze danced about the room.

Beyond the threshold lay a sprawling office; five large bookcases lined the wall to her left. The door that she had pushed open was the backplate of the last bookcase in the row. At the room’s midpoint, a circle of high-backed stuffed armchairs sat before a dark wood desk stacked high with papers, with a single backless chair tucked beneath it. Along with the stuffed bookcases, they were the chamber’s only furnishings. The desk faced a polished door split into three panels at the far end of the room to her left.

The wall ahead of Edith was seamless, floor-to-ceiling glass running its full length. Yet each view only filled a stride, with easily forty along its course. One segment near the desk’s corner centred on Grace standing amid a group array before stuffed leather dummies with live blades. Despite sweat pouring down her face, her gaze blazed as she relentlessly stabbed the target with a gladius. Each time she pulled the blade free, the hole resealed.

It seems she’s channelling her grief over Lynne’s pending demise. I wonder if she’s picturing the Earl Baneridge or the Demon King. My money is on the earl; she knows his face.

Amid the rooms, grounds, and corridors, a section near the end showed a different training yard, where a muscular brunette swung a sword against a stout timber post. An armoured man beside her waved for her to stop and pointed to the way he held his own blade and demonstrated a slash from hip to shoulder. 

Runecroft’s warm hand unexpectedly on her lower spine made Edith start.

“Take a seat,” Runecroft instructed. He gently nudged her toward chairs.

No wonder he worried someone was watching us. The question is: How can I keep him from finding me later? Heck, will I make it out of this room alive?

As she circled to the far chair, a section focused on kitchen preparations made Edith’s stomach gurgle loudly.

“My,” Runecroft drawled, dropping into the chair nearest the door.

Chin up and teeth gritted, Edith sat across from him without comment.

“Where did you get the dress from?” Runecroft asked.

“Where did you get the display?” Edith tilted her head towards the glass. “It was going when we came in. Do you have it running all the time? Does it cut out when they pee? If they make a mistake, do you blackmail them?”

“There are discretionary aspects to the enchantment that provide the targets’ privacy,” Runecroft said tightly. “We use it for security matters, recording details in gems for later recall. If something happened, we’d track down those responsible.”

Hope they don’t monitor the secret chamber.

Edith smiled. “Does the hero know she’s under observation?”

“The dress?” Runecroft persisted.

That’s not a denial. Is the hero the muscular woman? 

“Did you want to talk about your brother’s watchers or my outfit? It’s a lovely fabric. Just look at this tight weave,” Edith gushed.

“Very well, the watchers. Tell me the truth about how you learn their words.”

“I was close enough to the summoning chamber that I heard their words.” Edith inhaled slowly, organising her thoughts and choosing what to leave out.

“When—” Runecroft cut himself off with a click of his tongue, and motioned for her to continue.

“Two guards outside the summoning chamber after yesterday’s summoning. One named Kevin grumbled under his breath after everyone else left, and then his fellow Mitchel called him out on it. Not rudely, just that it wasn’t a watchman’s place to comment on what they saw. Kevin started up, but Mitchel cut him off and said that he didn’t want to hear any holy talk from him.”

“You got into the castle’s depths the other day?”

“I got in the library,” Edith quipped, cutting off when her stomach growled again.

A low table appeared between them, laden with trays of biscuits, slices of dark bread, jerky, cheeses, along with stoppered carafes.

“For me, you shouldn’t have,” Edith said, clasping her hands together with mock enthusiasm. “And by that I mean no thanks.”

“You’re not my first unexpected guest.” Runecroft leaned forward and picked an item from each tray. “Have you considered etiquette lessons for your stomach?”

“That’s not quite the reassurance you intend. After all, they might be the only unpoisoned items.”

“They’re all poisoned, and I have the antidote,” Runecroft said, rolling his eyes. “Please. If I wanted an unfriendly conversation, I would have opened a different door from the library. An interrogator would eventually peel every secret from you. You were saying?”

“Such a charmer,” Edith drawled. “Kevin called Mitchel a chaos drinker and then tossed out the quote. He called the dragon-kin among them a freak and even objected to the rabbit-kin. He seemed insulted that Princess Lynne had summoned them, and referred to them and the others as things.”

Cooperate until I can run fast. I’m not paranoid enough.

“How did this Mitchel respond?”

“Taunted him about forgetting his rant about righteous fire purifying all. Then told him to shut up and that a hero’s pyre has redeemed many. That’s when Kevin added the clergy should hold some last rites before any battle, and the summoned aren’t to be trusted.”

As she spoke, Runecroft leaned back in his chair and took precise bites of dark bread and cheese. “This exchange was just between two guards.”

“No.” Edith took a piece of white cheese that squished easily between her fingers, but she didn’t bite into it. “A grey-haired man with a hooked scar that distorted his upper lip came out carrying a silk-wrapped bundle. He sent them back to barracks and told them to mind their tongues and remember the king, not the churches, would decide. Is that enough for a reward?”

“Did the silk have runes covering it?”

“Yes, but I couldn’t read them.”

“Do you have a name for the third man?”

“No name was used to address him in their conversation. The watchers didn’t object to his order and immediately left.”

Runecroft licked his fingers, then met Edith’s eyes. “Why didn’t you stay with the other new heroes?”

Edith laughed, hoping to dissuade him. “I’m not a summoned hero.”

“I know who removed the summoning relic from the chamber. Only a stranger wouldn’t have recognised him. The various sword lords, such as Cornelius, are renowned individuals throughout Easthaven and other lands.” Runecroft rose, went to a bookcase, and drew out a ledger. “Still, since you deny it, I’ll have to treat you as a native and subject to all our laws, correct?”

Bloody hell, caught out.

Flipping partway through, he traced a finger down a few pages before he tapped it. “No courtesan by the name of Amber. Should I hand you over to the Petal Guild for misrepresenting your class and/or for not registering? The fines are steep, and an inability to pay promptly carries unpleasant consequences.”

“You said you wouldn’t hold my lies against me,” Edith observed.

“Past lies. New ones are a different matter, and they’d be holding your lies against you, not me. Are you going to keep lying?”

What’s worse: being known as a summoned hero or a young Kitsune? They start out as foxes. Would they know human things? But I don’t know what else could give me away.

“You addressed me as a courtesan. I let your misunderstanding continue and said I wasn’t seeking new patrons. I never claimed what type nor confirmed I was a courtesan.”

“Your attire proclaimed you. That doesn’t change the fact you didn’t recognise the key defender from the shrieking pass incident,” Runecroft replied. “Third, a local of no standing wouldn’t be arguing with the king’s brother, native of this kingdom or not. Like many other recent arrivals, who also have no issue arguing with those of higher social standing. So why didn’t you stay with the new heroes?”

Edith clamped her mouth shut.

Bestowing a smug smile, Runecroft returned the ledger to the shelf. The book covers on either side rasped against it with a low hiss in the silence.

“Shall we start again?” Runecroft approached and held out his hand. “I’m Count Fredrick Runecroft.”

“But I was enjoying our dance, Count Runecroft,” Edith replied, not taking his hand. “Did you want a different dance?”

“Which dance would you prefer? Other than the type I already declined,” Runecroft replied.

“That was so disappointing. Someone special at home, or am I the wrong gender?”

“I’m married. My lovely wife knows there will be rumours, but I’d never break her trust,” Runecroft replied.

“Why give rumours seeds to grow when that would have court ladies snickering behind her back?”

“The dance of words continues, it seems.” Runecroft smiled sadly. “Might I know my partner’s name so that we might extend this occasion?”

Edith glanced at the locations on display. “I don’t know how you target those, so Amber is fine.”

“Paranoia is why you remained hidden?” He waited, and Edith regarded him with bored nonchalance, feeling for the shadow under the chair.

Runecroft bent further and drew her up by the fingertips. “Very well. You have until we reach the outer doors of my office. Beyond it, guards will take you to the Petal Guild to handle their administrative matters. Without direct confirmation that an exception applies, I must adhere to the law. ”

If I leave the castle, would their wards stop me from getting back in? Too many unknowns. Let’s go part truths.

“I was in the summoning circle, and I stayed invisible when Miss Loudmouth announced we weren’t all heroes to Earl Baneridge.”

He took a step back. “Would you tell me why?”

“Why did I stay hidden? I didn’t want to find out what being surplus to requirements would entail.”

“The summoned have the oddest sayings. That wasn’t so hard, yet it changed your situation considerably. You’re no longer a thief and a lawbreaker; rather, someone to whom this kingdom owes its deep regrets.” Runecroft lifted her hand, kissed her fingertips, and let her go. “The dress?”

“It was among items gifted to the new arrivals,” Edith responded, mouth twisted with distaste. “I didn’t steal it so much as repurpose it. Apparently, someone wanted to cause the rabbit-kin lady problems. What sort of person does that to a stranger?”

If I don’t use Jasmine’s name, then he won’t know we’ve met. Yet if I was close enough to acquire the dress, then it’s understandable I heard it.

Runecroft stepped back and pressed one hand to a temple. “Could I persuade you to join my agents? It pays modestly well, and you seem to have a knack for finding information. Given you wouldn’t be doing it for this nation’s sake, I could pay more.”

“You’re not thinking it through.” Edith sat back down. “I don’t know the local situation, so how would I know when something’s wrong?”

“Yet you can think on your feet and are a natural actor, which are the hardest things to teach. The rest of it is just details to learn.” Runecroft resumed his own seat. “I assure you, not all my agents have the same grounding. My instructors can drill you until you blend in and know the local intricacies.”

“Why me?”

“Some agents bring to our attention an actionable piece of intelligence maybe once a season. You’ve been on this world less than two days, and you’ve delivered four. The potential zealot watcher, his fellow watcher knowing his belief but not reporting it, points to tolerance in the guards.” Runecroft paused with a questioning smile.

Edith continued on. “That Cornelius knew is also concerning if he hasn’t reported it. Is someone setting out to embarrass a high druid the fourth? Except it might have been two people trying to embarrass her. There was another second garment which her maid intercepted and told her it was a prostitute’s garb. This one didn’t have daisies, so I thought it was safe.”

“Would you like something suitable to wear?”

“I actually do like this dress. Is there any style not courtesan-related that is similar?” She smoothed out folds across her thigh. “And the cloth.”

“Though the style is bolder than most would wear, it’s only courtesans who wear that style in white with some type of leaves or petals on the hem.”

Edith fidgeted with the cheese, too nervous to eat it. “Interesting. What’s the source of that symbolism?”

“An odd question, but very well,” Runecroft replied. “Their passive runes keep them clean of disease, and they’re sworn to let the names of their patrons wither rather than disclose them.”

I could have used those back in the day. Passive? Do those runes fatigue them or drain them of the lightning-feeling energy?

“I take it they’re magically sworn to someone.”

“Yes, enchanters with the Petal Guild set the oath. Is your class actually a variant of Courtesan? I hadn’t heard of one given to stealth, but given your… intensity.”

“No, I’m not a courtesan. I was sixty before the summoning, and being young again has stirred up my passions, one might say,” Edith replied. “Age made me paranoid, but that didn’t reverse.”

Or it was something about how I pictured this body.

Runecroft tilted his head. “I believe that might be a first. We know that the summoned can switch species, but I hadn’t heard of one becoming young again. Since you seem disinclined to eat this food, shall we go?”

“Go where?”

“I’ll have someone provide you with some clothing, and you can choose something at random from the kitchen preparations or a place where noble hands won’t serve food to you alone.”

“That sounds like a start.” She set the cheese beside the plate she’d taken it from and stood.

A dark green, voluminous hooded cloak with long sleeves, like an oilskin coat, and a white porcelain mask appeared in his hand. “To hide your courtesan dress and your identity if you decide to take my offer.”

“If you don’t mind, I’ll have to consider it overnight. I’d honestly prefer to be a librarian.”

“A librarian? Not a sage, or wizard?” Runecroft spluttered. “What class did you gain?”

“I have what was convenient for them to give, and enough to slip around this castle. Not everyone gets a class, so why does it absolutely dictate what someone can do?”

“Classes provide runes that make some things possible that people can’t otherwise do.”

“I’m not looking to do the impossible, just live a happy life. I’ve seen enough death, and lost enough people. What I like is knowledge, reading, and learning languages.” Edith took the cloak from him and slipped it on. Its base swept the floor before settling at her height, yet it still hid her feet as she fastened the front clasps. “I’ll pass on the mask. Feels like a risk of mental influence.”

“The demon king’s armies use such,” Runecroft replied sternly. “No follower of the gods of light would stoop so low.”

“It’s disappointing how frequently humans will find new lows to stoop to. Shall we get going?” Edith flipped up her hood and waved.

This isn’t the fox you’re looking for! No lightning across my skin. I guess that didn’t work.

“Then I hope you’ll come to see we have standards we’ll maintain.”

“Like the zealots crawling into your watchers? You didn’t know there was an issue, and the others didn’t say. So tell me again how well you can maintain those standards? What happens when a zealot or a sick individual inherits your position decades from now?” Edith asked.

“We’ll clean them out.”

“Hateful ideas can always find plenty of rich soil,” Edith said, before turning for the door.

The table vanished, and Runecroft hastened after her. “Is there anything you’d like besides clothing and food?”

“Information,” Edith said. “Always information.”