-From Aphorisms: 16:51-54
Radadadadadadadadat… The Kingbill rattled far in the distance, an almost mournful sound now.
Vivex’s throat still throbbed from the conclusion of sparring with Zegoth. However, her mood was much improved, with Shashk spending the whole day answering her questions for the first hour or so. She had asked about the Shimmering Sea, the other areas of the Belly of the world, and also the Empire of the Scaleless.
That was why the Initiate was listening intently to Shashk, enjoying a rare break from her physical training as the Redscale lectured and they basked. It was reprieve from either being worn out, beaten to within an inch of her life, or having to deal with Gekki and Zathaan.
“It is from Salkov that the emperor wields his power. Through sheer might of his magic alone.” Shashk hissed. They both had taken to speaking in the smoothskin language at all times, something that Shashk had enforced after only a week of study.
“Then… he…” she paused, gathering her question, distracted by the comfort of the hot sun coating her scales. “He uses the brute force as well?”
A gaggle of Fodder came over, placing trays of prepared foods and several different drinks out on the table-stone so that they could select what they wished.
Or rather, Shashk could select what she thought was best for both of them.
Vivex glanced at the pitcher of the Lackbend tea, then back to her Teacher’s eyes for a moment.
“To a degree.” Shashk said with a grunt, though she passed out an ikakiax first. It had been split down the back longways, carapace open so the steaming flesh of the long aquatic isopod was visible. Bright white and red, fragrant and seasoned with tart sciphon buds. Vivex knew better than to refuse the food, though she really was thirsty.
Clang!
One of the Fodder dropped a tray from hands missing fingers, and Shashk didn’t hesitate in whipping the clumsy creature viciously for such insolence.
CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! Blood spattered and the Fodder squealed in pain.
The Initiate tried not to think about how that might be her, if she failed. Instead focusing on the meal as the other Fodder dragged their twitching fellow away from them both, another scurrying back moments later with a replacement tray.
Thrive! Wont!
It could be. She wouldn’t let it happen. She had seen too much to allow it to happen.
Shashk plucked one of the snails from the new tray and ate it, crunching up the shell. “That monster does play in what idiot social structures the scaleless have, though he does not hesitate to use the true methods of power either.” She spoke as if there had been no interruption, the incident already immaterial to her.
It was only after the Initiate had eaten several large bites that the Ambassador poured out a moderate amount of the tea into a drinking bowl, holding it out for Vivex to take.
The Initiate drank it happily, something about the flavor alone sating a need inside her. It was not like the herb, the kiphos, as she had been told it was named by the smoothskins. It didn’t have side effects. But there was something quenching about it that was just… delightful.
They spoke there for some time, Vivex asking questions, Shashk answering and also occasionally asking her own to test Vivex’s knowledge so far.
It was almost peaceful, and almost, she could regard her Teacher as she did her Provider. Even ignore the violent outburst against the Fodder earlier.
But it was not to be, as Vivex soon discovered.
Delre kicked the still hot scuttle over to the pile of scrap that she had gathered, which included all of her old armor. “Damn mages…” She growled again, looking at the warped and bent runes. She had been and was still proud of them, she had barely been warmed by that freak’s flames.
But she’d have to melt it all down and recast it into ingots to make anything useful. Several of the rivets had failed after getting to their new base, which had made it impossible to move about.
Probably just a shitload of nails. Not that they didn’t need a ton of them.
There were all kinds of refuse and partially constructed buildings down under the location of the bathhouse, just like anywhere else in the undercity. And they hadn’t wasted any time making a quick and dirty barrier around their camp using those supplies, but it was pretty pathetic.
Piled rubble instead of walls, ramshackle huts and tents that barely stood on their own instead of purpose-built structures, and no fresh water to speak of down under the streets anymore.
And on top of that, she wanted the armor. But I need to get the materials first! And metal scrap had been one of the first things to get left behind when they had run from the cult.
Neither thing was an immediate issue though. For the moment, they had Syndicate members patrolling around their camp, so they could rely on them to do the work for now.
But why trust those horn heads at all? They were getting heavily invested into drugs on top of being the main source of vice in the city, and their leader had some sort of magic that acted on emotions. And Del distrusted any outside force being in control of people an organizations she cared about.
That’s why you’re here, you crowbar. She sighed, heart aching in her chest, forcing her thoughts to move on as she sorted through the pieces of her armor, wondering if she could fold it into other metal to make something stronger.
Rose wanted to get the gang back to maintaining their own security. Good thing too, don’t mind the Belmaian’s, but this is our space. She tossed one of the pauldrons aside, and the clatter made several of the kids lounging about jump and hide. Her eyes narrowed.
Lukas is right. Need real security. What I’d give for a real masonry team.
One that had scribing tools too. She wouldn’t be caught off guard with old stones and worn out runes next time.
But how?
She had contacts, but she didn’t like to call in favors, and she couldn’t justify the expense to the Delmarvas.
Let alone stomach charity. Her contacts didn’t have much to spare anyway.
She took comfort in the work, the distraction, the comfort of building and craft. It wasn’t that she felt nothing for the people she had lost. That all the Delmarva’s had lost. She still grieved for Gurny, and Meleka, and all her other comrades from before her exile.
Busy hands sooth wounded souls. Another one of Tosid’s sayings. It had been his favorite, and it was becoming one of hers. She wondered what her old master was up to now.
Tim was picking the few locks that they had still, but she could see that they needed better ones. Tim was far too good with them. The most intricate lock they had, and it sprung open at his touch, only to be closed again and then sprung open even faster.
He’ll wear out the springs at this rate.
“You’re only getting better at that kid.” She said out loud, trying to bolster him.
He didn’t answer.
She sighed. Tim had taken it harder than most. Jax and Kat had been the ones to bring him in. And we couldn’t even bury them.
“After I am done with this, I am going to see about getting you some more locks to practice on.”
“I don’t want locks!” he said, tossing one to the ground, “I want a sword. I want to kill them!”
She looked up from the lock, staring down at the boy, who was still young enough to be shorter than she was. Tim stared back with a cavernous gaze, eyes too wide, their focus twitching slightly left and right.
He isn’t looking at me right now, he can only see the dead.
Jax, Kat, Mark, Cove, Jess, Ricky, Lea, and so many others. She knew because she had been there, was back there again.
So many that deserve vengeance.
But a sword, any weapon of war, that wasn’t something he was ready for. He had too much growing to do yet.
“No. Not a sword.” She said.
“Fuck you Delre, a sword.”
She glared at him and he looked down. “Sorry, but I need a weapon.”
“Idiot, you want to make Jax and Kat taking you in pointless by having the guard ask why some urchin has a full fucking sword?” She snapped, her anger getting the better of her. Didn’t these damn bean poles understand just how much death there was in the world?
“I’ll kill them Del! I’ll kill all of them! I can’t take this! Being scared, not feeling safe where I sleep!” He kicked the lock and it sailed off into the dark. Del could feel the other kids looking to them now, some still hiding because of the noise.
Tydrik. Gotta bring him back from the brink for everyone’s sake.
“Tim, do you think I’m giving up?” The flat question startled the boy, and he only stared at her.
“Do you think I am giving up the fight?” She said, enunciating each and every word with a grim finality.
“No.” he muttered, unable to meet her eyes.
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“Do you think I am stupid?”
“No, Del… But-”
“Butts are for shitting numbskull.”
He looked at her, confused, and she smiled to take some of the sting out of it. The stitches on her face tugged a little. “Look, a sword’s a weapon, you get caught with one of those you’re only going to increase your chances of getting your head stoved in. A knife, well that can be a tool, and it’s easier to ditch.”
He looked down at the lockpicks he had, fiddling with them to buy time, and she suddenly got an idea.
“Plus, if I can make it right, you won’t have to carry those around either.” She reached forward and gripped the boy’s shoulder. “I’ll even walk you through some drills, okay? And I am sure Dan and Jon will too. Hells, I could get Trey to show you a thing or two once you get the basics down.”
Have to do it in that order, else that Squatling will have Tim cut his own fingers off by accident showing off some fancy twirly nonsense.
There was a long moment where Tim kept looking down, then he said, “Okay, Delre… But I want in on getting any payback!” He looked at her, angry and defiant.
“Tim, you’d disappoint me if you said otherwise.” Her smile widened and she spread her arms. He came in for an embrace, and she held him close, patting his back as he quietly sobbed into her shirt. She hated how young some of their members were, how the world had stollen their ability to just be kids.
I’ll just make sure it’s safe enough for you first. Just like all the others.
She gave him a little squeeze, letting him sob. She had never expected to become an “older sister” to the younger Delmarvas. But she felt obligated to try and do her best.
Busy hands…
“You could probably help me with something.” She said, looking down at him.
That got him to look up, eyes still red. He pulled away, sniffing and wiping his face to hide his tears.
“What?”
“We need to figure a way to help keep the place warm.”
“It’s gonna be summer though…”
“Yeah, but what about next winter? And what if we have another cold snap?” Del pressed, trying to push the boy’s thoughts in a different direction.
“True…” He said, and she could see him come back to himself slightly as he set himself to the question.
A breeze blew in, bringing a fresh wave of stink into the hideout.
“What if we just take the heating bricks from the sewers?” He said after a moment.
Delre’s eyes went wide.
“Tydrik’s shaft, how the fuck didn’t I think of that before?” There were always extras stored in the sewers!
And as if the floodgates had opened, other solutions started to flow into her mind. They could steal aetherstones for light! Runed construction bricks for building!
Mine the city itself to survive!
It had always taken from them, the poetic justice of taking back from it as sweet as young beer.
We could even sabotage some places to try and get the materials we want!
Nothing major, but if they broke up some of the bricks in the sewers, they could get even more of those heating bricks. They wouldn’t make things warm, but it would help a little bit in winter, to keep things from freezing. And any expense that they forced on the emperor was good in her ledger.
Wait… I could probably get the forge bricks this way too! She just needed to figure out a good place to swipe them. That old forge! But the Bookkeepers would be looking for her. I’ll just figure that out when we get there then. She sighed.
“So much damn work…”
“I could help!” Tim said.
“If you can get one of the older members to help out and if Rose says it’s okay.”
They both stood, and she grabbed her mug from a partial wall next to the scrap pile, taking a swig. Her face scrunched in displeasure. They needed something worthwhile to drink, not just water of all things.
And smokes, Tydrik.
Her head was starting to throb without them.
And even after everything else, seven names had been added to her list, making the total accounting of those she would someday avenge thirty nine. Them, and the wounded. The thought came as a piteous groan came from their infirmary.
“It's going to be quite the campaign.” She whispered, “not a skirmish in the slightest..”
Tydrik, help me forge this boy into the man he needs to be.
Tydrik spat into the coals of His forge, an indigo flame blazing bright as it flared. “That kid won't like being minted, but…” He examined the web spreading around Him.
“Well shit. Guess it can't be helped.” He picked up His hammer, tapping out a furious tempo as He reached for some metal with His tongs. “Rattlin’, Rattlin’, all the way to the Horizon.” He spat into the flames again and they roared with a delighted glee.
The dehk-zuir continued to be an issue for the Initiate.
Shashk snarled and cracked her tail again, making Vivex wince. They had finished the meal, and a sun shower had begun, prompting them both to head under the shelter of the Ambassador’s abode.
And as usual, despite her rapid progress in understanding the spoken tongue, she could not grasp the dehk-zuir.
“You idiot, how can you not understand?” Shashk snapped, still speaking in the language of the eighth generas.
“Teacher… I just-”
“Don’t?” Shashk interrupted, snarling after. She hissed, frill fully extended in her fury. “Are you trying to make me look bad?”
Her Instinct snarled inside her, but she frantically clung to it, keeping it suppressed. The example of the Fodder, mangled and twitching, her previous whippings, the other physical punishments all enough to temper her wrath.
And I have to function for Keshka tonight! So she fought to be respectful.
“No, Teacher, I-”
“Then try harder, fool!” Shashk shoved Vivex, which was something new. She did strike the Initiate before, but something about how she did it was just… wrong.
The same fucking argument. The warrior hated this, hated scraping and bowing and being… subservient! She was the Apex of Apexes of her Trial! Damn them all!
Fight! Her Instinct screeched, and before she could stop herself she was back to speaking the Truetongue again, prefixes vicious, and to her shame, scared.
“Because you looking bad should matter to me more than my own terminal future?!” She snarled. The dam had burst, there was no stopping the tirade.
Shashk hissed, head pulling back, frill flapping slightly as turquoise eyes narrowed. Her tail popped twice as it lashed.
“Do you think I am not aware that this is my only chance?! Have you not seen me trying to practice at night, along with everything else, drawing diagrams, in the sand, trying to match them with this useless thing?!” She gestured at her own tail, hating herself.
Hating it.
Sad that the thing that comforted her all this time after her yolk had vanished was now betraying her. Hating that she had to admit the weakness of needing more practice outside of their lessons to the individual who held her fate in her claws.
“You think I don’t see you maim Fodder, as is your right? That I don’t worry that I will be wasted as they are as petty whipping posts for your minor frustrations.”
Shashk hissed, but Vivex couldn’t stop now.
“I need to be better! I know I am not Fodder, that I could be something new, and glorious, an amazing scout! An unparalleled hunter!”
She shifted with her camouflage and walked around Shashk’s abode, shifting her patterns with all of the clutter and objects and knowing that she was as close to perfect as any of the brood could possibly manage.
“I can practically disappear anywhere!” Shashk’s head jerked as she spoke, but almost instantly lost her again as the Initiate kept moving.
She stepped out into the rain, and with strain she managed to match the patterns there too.
Her Instinct grunted, impressed. Her forebrain didn’t care, watching the Ambassador. Shashk stared, and Vivex could tell she was struggling to keep track of her.
She became visible again, walking back under the roof, dripping wet and furious and unable to hide it in her pattern or her prefixes, “But no, it is my intent to make you look bad, my Teacher. That is my only concern, make you, my only hope to actually earn my way through the castes to where I actually belong, look foolish.” She gnashed her jaws and kicked one of the chairs, sending it sailing out into the mud. “I am purposely ruining my own fucking life to slight you.”
No! Stop! She couldn’t swear at Shashk! She’d be killed.
But she didn’t care, and couldn’t halt her words.
“It’s not that I am, in one particular area, struggling. It’s not that it hurts to speak the dehk-zuir. It’s because my fucking justified hate of you is too strong. Damn my future, if only to make you look bad as an instructor!”
She didn’t realize she had been shouting until the deafening silence filled the space after her outburst. Not even the insects were making their usual noise.
Fuck! Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck-
Fix! Now! Her Instinct slammed into her skin, clamping the hidden muscles into immediate desaturated subservience.
“I… Ambassador… I’m…” She cringed as Shashk’s eyes continued to stare, as wide as they could go, the frill quivering with the Ambassador’s ire.
A crocodile snapped its jaws in the distance.
“Stand, Initiate.” Shashk hissed, eyes still bulging, prefixes of fury telling Vivex all she needed to know, as if the fully extended frill was not enough.
“I-”
“Stand. Now.”
Vivex stood, and turned, displaying her back. She twitched, wanting to sprint away, but the Initiate had learned quickly during previous punishments to never run, old scars on her back and tail twinging with the memory.
She grabbed a stick wrapped in leather for the purpose, biting down on it as she closed her eyes, waiting for the whipping to begin.
Waiting.
She was sure the Redscale always delayed, wanting to give her time to reflect on-
CRACK! Loud as a tubeweapon!
Pain lanced across her spine, tearing scales, and she hissed in agony. Vivex felt her own blood sliding down her back once more as she snarled against the stick, grabbing a table and nearly knocking the trinkets off as she bounced into it.
She braced for the next strike, panting, spittle dripping from her jaws as she struggled not to wail.
There were usually five for such infractions.
Screeee-weeee-weeee!
The first audible Cicada, soon joined by its fellows.
She kept waiting.
The next strike didn’t come.
She heard a paper rustle, perhaps one of the many missives Shashk received. Then there was a growl from the Ambassador.
What? She looked to see that Shashk was looking at the missive she had gotten before about the Ironmantle human. She had placed it under the portrait of the sixth genera female to keep it from blowing away.
Shashk’s eyes swiveled to meet Vivex’s, and her clawed hand grabbed the tip of Vivex’s tail. The Initiate went stiff. The other hand joined it farther down. She pulled the Greenscale by it slightly.
She is going to tear it out by the roots!
N-no! She spat out the stick, hand already grabbing the matte black blade.
“ ‘I am sorry for my outburst, Teacher.’ ” Shashk recited, jerking the tail harshly in the motions, some of the movement’s hurting a little. She let go, “Now do it, uncivil whelp.”
Vivex, still confused, moved her tail, wincing in pain and trying to force her tail to bend in the same way. It must have been wrong because Shashk corrected the motions, not quite as forcefully, though it still hurt.
“You… aren’t going to whip me any more than that?” Vivex asked, glancing back, returning to the smoothskin language, petrified that if she didn’t she would guarantee that outcome.
Shashk’s frill fluttered. “If you cannot prove to me that you are studying as hard as you say, I will flay you alive.” Shashk growled, “But if you are, then the only infraction was being disrespectful.”
Vivex got the correct movements on her tenth try, and she looked back at Shashk.
Her turquoise eyes glared at the Initiate. “We travel today, and your lesson schedule will change. You will still train with your tutors, but in my presence. We will simply have to integrate the lessons more.”
Vivex tried to say “Yes teacher,” in the dehk-zuir, and Shashk’s slap against the side of her head told her she had done it wrong. She tried again, ignoring the searing pain of her back making the ‘yes’ more angular.
“Better. Still atrocious.” Shashk growled. She then hissed again in frustration. “Wonderful. More damn news.” Surprising the Initiate by switching to the Truetongue.
Vivex turned, and saw that it was another messenger, a male Redscale.
Shashk took the scroll tube and tossed it to Vivex, who caught it awkwardly as the messenger left.
“Read it aloud. You may use the Truetongue for now.”
Vivex opened the tube, breaking the wax with her claw. Her back twinged.
“Will I receive medication?” She asked, pulling out the vellum.
Shashk’s tail popped softly. “No. Later. Read.”
Kill. It wasn’t the worst pain she had ever received, but it had been so long since such pain had lingered that it was hard to ignore, hard to put aside to fume about for later.
No. I need her if I am going to escape…
She unrolled the missive.
“It is from Ghexlthar again, Teacher.”
Shashk growled, impatient. So Vivex read:
Ambassador Shashk from Scout Ghexlthar,
Shipments are arriving as scheduled. Subject S is pleased.
There is firm conformation about the actions and capabilities of Subject I. All theories about the application of such skills could be found to be true. The location, however, remains an issue for the same reasons discussed before.
There is simply not enough time for the plan you suggest. Any such acquisition would require too long. Perhaps a negotiation to bring assets of Subject I to the Belly of the World would be an option, but there is no way to know that any would be trustworthy.
We will still return at the scheduled time, and have discussed with the Fiendkins how to best word their reports moving forward.
No Brood agents will remain, only castes relegated to shipping until it is time for the monsoon.
Shashk regarded Vivex, her forked tongue flickering out.
She is deciding something.
Be ready.
She stood, walking past Vivex, reaching down and plucking a piece of tattered flesh from her new wound with a painful snap. Watching it as the scales flickered and flashed a multitude of colors.
Vivex yelped softly in pain.
“We continue our lesson. You have mastered our script, clearly. So now we will move to reading the smoothskin script.”
What? Pointless! Her Instinct fumed.
Shush! I can’t be rash!
Ask. Her Instinct grumbled maroonly.
“May I inquire as to why, my Teacher?”
Shashk looked at her, and grunted. “If there are documents that the parasites have in one of their camps, it would be good for you to be able to read them.”
Vivex felt her Instinct shift, conveying the feeling of eyes narrowing.
I agree. She is hiding something.
The Initiate didn’t act on that suspicion, even as Shashk started to rapidly go through a second alphabet with her.