Splinter Angel Chapter 222 (Patreon)

The next morning, Ana had to remind Messy that they had Jisha in the room with them, or they’d never have gotten out of bed.

Breakfast was simple, but satisfying. No meat, but plenty of freshly baked bread along with butter, cheese, and three different fruit preserves, served with small beer or tea. And the Misery gang were treated to the sight of Kaira eating a whole knob of butter in one bite, which Ana had looked forward to all morning. The shock and horror on their faces almost made the sight of Kaira happily mashing the butter around in her mouth using her tongue worth it.

They had something like six to eight hours before the alignment, which would happen in the late afternoon, and they intended to use them well. The most important task was to figure out how to best blend in with the arrivals, but Ana wanted to speak with the local cleric of the Wayfarer, and Kaira wanted to go to the guild hall to ask about that Rosco guy. And then there was all the usual business of arriving in a new place: figuring out what was where, who was who, and which parts of that were worth knowing.

But first things first. Ana was going to the temple, and Jisha was coming with her.

It was an overcast morning, cold and dark. They wore their rainproof cloaks; before breakfast their hostess had helpfully reminded them that since they were down from the mountains now, it was likely to rain rather than snow. And rain it did, a heavy downpour that had the gutters overflowing by the time they made it out the door.

Ana didn’t mind. She’d seen relatively little rain in her months in this world, and it reminded her a bit of London.

Jisha hated it. “Fine, it can rain sometimes, but does it have to be so cold?” she grumbled as they headed up Cross Street. “It was summer, then late spring, and now it’s fucking November.”

“Take it up with the Wayfarer,” Ana replied, raising her voice to be heard over the rain. “Don’t know if she can do anything about it, but it’s worth a shot. She’s a goddess, right?”

Jisha scoffed. “She likes the fucking rain! Besides, I think she’s too busy keeping the world from falling to pieces to worry about our comfort.”

“She likes the rain?”

“Ouais. She told me when we talked. Likes the fucking rain. Said it soothes her.”

“Huh.”

As they entered the square, coming up alongside the temple, all the preparations that had already been done or that were now under way reminded Ana of her concerns for that afternoon. When that Waystone opened into a portal to Ellsthal, they may or may not have a murderous Ascender waiting first in line to come through and hunt them down. Fortunately, Ana had a massive advantage when it came to intelligence on that particular enemy.

Hey, great and powerful lady of the roads, she said in a bid to get the Wayfarer’s attention. Have you seen Serené around Ellsthal? Is Najal keeping an eye on her?

There is no need to worry about the Summerland woman. The goddess sounded… tired, yes. She always sounded tired. But more than than: exasperated. A very strange thing to hear from a deity, but then, the Wayfarer hadn’t ever really matched Ana’s preconceptions. She is with Najal. They’re at the den of his dragon friend, and have been for some time. She’s promised him not to pursue you for the moment. In exchange…

Ana could just imagine the goddess rubbing her temples as she let out a deep, world-weary sigh.

In exchange he has promised to get her a conversation with you. I will note that he’s not extracted a promise from her that she will not try to kill you immediately following that conversation, so… keep that in mind. I swear, that man, sometimes…

Don’t be too hard on him, Ana replied. At least this way I’ll know when I’ll have to face her. And he’ll have however long to work on her.

Hmph. Perhaps.

That must have been new. The goddess hadn’t mentioned anything about a deal the previous evening, when Ana asked the Wayfarer if there was anything she needed to know about the local cleric. All she’d said then was that the local priest was competent, and that he should be more help than hindrance.

To Ana, that sounded a lot like her not wanting to criticize one of her own, and though she walked through the doors of the temple feeling very much reassured about that afternoon, she kept those weaselly words in mind.

“Welcome, wanderers, and may the Wayfarer bless your steps,” said the customary greeter inside the vestibule — a weatherbitten elfin woman with the Explorer and Sharpshooter classes. “Please hang your cloaks on the wall there. The floors inside get slippery when they’re wet.”

“Could I meet with the priest?” Ana asked as she and Jisha did as they’d been asked, hanging their cloaks beside each other on two of the hooks that lined the indicated wall. A gutter below would allow any pooling rainwater to run off, but for now there were only a few others, and the stone was barely wet. “I have something important and urgent to discuss with him.”

“Probably,” the greeter said, looking past the inner doors toward the sanctuary. “He usually makes himself available. I don’t see him, though, and I’m not supposed to— ah, but there’s Limael! You see the human boy there in the red tunic, lighting candles? The Courier? Ask him, and he’ll help you.”

Ana nodded gratefully, approaching the kid, who looked up at her and Jisha’s steps. A few minutes later he returned with a pale themion man, his Cleric of the Wayfarer Class marking him as the priest.

“Good morning,” Ana said, giving the priest her most serious smile. “Can we speak in private? I have some sensitive business to discuss.”

*

“That was as useful as pissing in a violin,” Jisha muttered as they stepped back out into the rain. “How did that guy become the head priest of a whole temple?”

“He’s probably good at administration, or leading ceremonies, or something,” Ana replied, the last bit of credit she had left to give. “Really, though? ‘Pissing in a violin?’ I didn’t think anyone actually said that.”

“Blame Maxime. His grandfather—” Jisha sighed sadly. “It doesn’t matter. My point is, he’s not going to do anything to help us, is he?”

“Yeah, probably not. Won’t get in our way, either, though.”

“Because he’s a coward!” Jisha spat before looking around. “Where are we going, anyway?”

“The guild hall, it looks like,” Ana said, water splashing off her hood as she nodded towards the large, ornate building with the guild crest above the door. “I’m just following my compass toward Messy.”

“They must have found the guy, then. We were in the temple for what? Twenty minutes?”

“My goddess, I hope so,” Ana replied. “It’s that, or trouble.”

“You worry too much.”

“I worry a lot,” Ana corrected her. “I’ve never once worried ‘too much.’”

“Good thing you’ve got Messy for balance.” Jisha paused for a few steps, then asked, “Did you have an ulcer back on Earth?”

“I had a lot of outlets for my stress.”

“You’ve got one very enthusiastic outlet now,” Jisha muttered.

Ana couldn’t help but laugh at her. “You weren’t even on the same floor,” she said, bumping her gently with her shoulder as they went around the corner of the market that was setting up in preparation for the portal opening.

“I wasn’t even in the building!” Jisha laughed back. “That didn’t stop me from noticing that your bed moved half a meter.”

“Alright, madame enquêteur,” Ana said, and let the subject drop. They’d arrived, anyway.

The doors to the guild hall were closed, but opened easily. Inside it looked much like the one in Stamham: at the back of the entrance hall, a reception desk with two disinterested Clerks faced the doors. To the left was an archway with a sign hanging from the ceiling that read The Exchange, and to the right, Member’s Hall. Messy, Kaira, and Omda were all to the right, so that was where Ana and Jisha went, the Clerks going back to their conversation when they saw that they weren’t needed.

The Member’s Hall was separated into two areas: the message board, which was actually a fairly large meeting room with tables, benches, and a yards long bulletin board divided into sections for trade, Parties, and so on; and the canteen, which served simple food and drink at low cost. That was where they found their friends. And they didn’t even need Ana’s sense of where they were to find them; Kaira’s voice was quite enough.

Kaira was seated at a small table with a pale, redheaded elfin man, if seated was the right word; she was half out of her chair, leaning so far into his space that she was almost lying on her chest. “Pleeease!” she begged, her hands clasped in front of her face. “I don’t know what else to offer you without insulting both of us! I’m not even asking you how you qualified for Fulminant, I just want to know what being an Arcflame was like!”

Seeing Kaira literally beg was an odd sight, but maybe it was justified. The man was a Level 45 Fulminant, and Ana could only assume that this was a Class evolved from Arcflame, which Kaira had already been excited about. Yet the man just sat there with a placid little smile, shaking his head regretfully.

“As I’ve told you, it is a path to power and nothing else. You will find no purpose in it, no happiness, and no satisfaction. Focus on your Craft of Lightning, young Evoker, and leave Fire behind.”

“What’ve we missed?” Ana asked as she and Jisha sat down with Messy and Omda. They moved their seats so that they only used half of the round table, letting everyone see Kaira as she kept begging and pleading.

“More of this, mostly,” Messy said. “Gorosso — not Rosgo — is like some kind of priest trying to talk Irry out of falling to temptation. He insists that no one should have both Fire and Lightning, and that if they do, they should pick one and let the other wither. Too dangerous together, he says.”

“Kaira does pretty well, though,” Ana said. “She’s hot-headed, but not the worst I’ve seen.”

“That’s what Kaira’s been telling him,” Messy replied.

Omda nodded silently, sipping his tea.

The cycle of pleading and refusal turned a few more times, but Kaira was persistent, and Gorosso, for all his calm, was still some kind of high-Level Fire- and Lightning-mage. With a flare of anger and probably against his own better judgment, he finally snapped, “Fine. Fine! If you won’t be dissuaded, then at least listen to me now and take my advice to heart! If, despite my insistence that you do otherwise, you choose to become an Arcflame, you will be filled with the urge and the impulse to destroy. Not indiscriminately, but as a solution to most problems. You’ll be directly rewarded for giving in to those urges, in the form of Crystals, which will only make you more eager to destroy in the future. And with nothing to safely destroy in the cities and outposts, you will be drawn to go into more and more dangerous Delves. Listen to me, and listen well, young Miss Kaira: most Arcflames do not live long. The urge to use their powers of destruction almost inevitably draws them to their own demise, like a moth to a flame. You must temper those urges. You must be strong enough, not only to survive, but to hold yourself back. Do that, and you may, perhaps, survive long enough to Evolve your Class into something even more powerful, and more insidious: the Fulminant.”

Kaira stared at him for an eternity, still and silent. When she finally opened her mouth, it was to mutter a petulant, “You’re alive.”

“I have been lucky enough to be surrounded by loyal friends who held me back from my worst impulses when I couldn’t do so myself, and who saved me from the consequences of my worst mistakes. Friends who never abandoned me. Believe me, such friends are rare, and the luck necessary to meet and bond with them is even rarer.”

At that, Omda spoke up. Three words, short, simple, and loud enough that Gorosso couldn’t possibly miss them. “She has them,” he said, raising his mug in greeting.

“Through thick and thin,” Messy confirmed when the Fulminant turned his head to look at their table.

“Ride or die,” Ana added.

“Ride or fucking die,” Jisha agreed cheerfully.

“Quite possibly die,” the mage said, the furious energy that had powered his speech leaving him. “But I pray not. Miss Kaira, I beg you one last time: make another choice. But you won’t, will you?”

“Sorry,” Kaira replied sheepishly.

“Then, if you will not be dissuaded, remember that your mistakes will spill over on your friends. If nothing else holds you back, I hope that will. And if you feel like the urges become too strong, and you fear to talk to your friends about them, come to me. Perhaps some of my own tricks may help you. Now good luck, and leave me to my breakfast. I pray I’ll see you again.”

“Um… right,” Kaira said. “Thank you.”

“So, did you learn anything?” Ana asked as they stepped back out into the square.

“I mean… yeah?” Kaira said uncertainly. “Learned that it’s going to take some work to keep from becoming a right cunt once I’m an Arcflame. Kind of suspected that, but it’s something. Honestly, just seeing Gorosso sitting there, minding his own business at such a high Level, that was worth more than anything he said. To see that it’s possible, you know? Because Drisa, she told me that once people update their Summary on record with the Class, they usually don’t show up much after that.”

“So what he said about Arcflames letting their impulses get the best of them… you think that’s true?”

“Don’t see how it wouldn’t be,” Kaira sighed. Then she immediately turned her frown upside down, showing all her teeth as her gaze swept over her small group of friends. “But I’ve got you all, right? If anyone can keep me from acting on some terrible idea that seemed like a really good idea at the time, it’s you lot!”

“We’ll keep you in line,” Omda said fondly, clapping her on the shoulder with one large, wiry hand.

“You will, won’t you?” Kaira replied happily, as though she had not a care in the world. “I really do have all the luck. So what are we doing now?”

What they were doing was that they stayed under the guild hall’s portico while Ana updated them on what the goddess had told her about Najal and Serené, and how useless the priest had been. “Won’t risk anything, even to help his goddess’s Chosen,” Jisha grumbled. “Coward.”

“Sounds to me like he’s focused on his own congregation,” Messy replied. “I get it. I don’t like it, but I get it. If there’s no conflict here now, why invite it?”

“Conflict does not wait for an invitation,” Omda opined, to a round of nods from the others.

“Absolutely,” Messy agreed. “But to someone who’s used to peace it probably looks like it does. And you said that he’d encourage the faithful to give you what help they reasonably can. That’s not nothing.”

“But he’s not exactly going to the captains and telling them to back us up, either,” Kaira said. Then she shrugged. “Whatever, honestly. If someone tries to take down the Splinter, he’ll fall in line quick enough. And if not, well, we’re here to Level, aren’t we? Not to look for trouble. Honestly, if I can get out of here after a cycle without so much as punching anyone I’ll call it a win and a half!”

They left it there. It wasn’t like she was wrong. “Come on,” Ana said. “We still need a plan for later today. Let’s take a couple circuits of the square and see if anything jumps out.”

From what they could see, the difficulty in sneaking in with the arrivals would depend very much on how many guards were posted and where, and what the crowd looked like — factors the Party had no control over, and which they wouldn’t know until the time came. What was clear was that they weren’t dealing with airport security. A long desk, wide enough for three clerks, had been set up under an open-sided tent. Simple wooden fences created a lane from the Waystone to the tent, but it was more of a guide for new arrivals than anything meant to keep people out. The two fences came together behind the Waystone, and there they were a little higher, but there was nothing really stopping anyone from climbing over it — or vaulting it, considering how athletic most Delvers were. No, getting in with the arrivals should be easy. The challenge would lie in doing so undetected.

Ana looked at the prepared combined departure and arrival area, with its simple fences, and imagined it full of milling people gawking, laughing, waving their friends off or greeting anticipated new arrivals. Then she imagined a handful of poor, overworked sods trying to keep an eye on everything.

Hell, this might even be fun.

“Alright,” Ana said once she was satisfied there was nothing more to see. “Let’s go find the two lovebirds, then head back to the inn. I’ve got a couple of ideas.”