3-54. An Unexpected Visitor

Rua sat in darkness. She’d grown accustomed to it over the years. Abandoned by her parents. Being raised in a mostly empty home. Shunned by her own people. Her only friend a Mikovian noble who was only allowed to visit a few times a week at best.

And now it was that same noble’s fault for why she was in darkness alone, yet again. And the worst part was, Rua was more upset over the fact that Kir’s scent was beginning to fade from her sheets than she was over the fact that she was imprisoned here because of her.

It felt kind of pathetic. But Rua knew it wasn’t Kir’s fault. Not entirely. Kir had done what she’d done out of misguided love and a need to protect. She’d been wrong. And she’d spent every moment since regretting it. 

Rua wanted to be calling people using her menu. Otter. Sami. Vex. But her emotions were such a mess, and she didn’t know how to properly communicate them. She needed to talk to someone. Anyone. And she didn’t know who.

So it was probably why she accepted the call from Holt when it came.

He had that same mocking expression on his face, that playful smile that said he thought everything was a game. But there was a tiredness in his eyes. A weariness. Rua had seen it before, in warriors who’d seen one too many battles. People who had witnessed too much pain, and now had to fake basic human interaction. People who were no longer sure how regular people were supposed to act, and played a parody.

“You busy?” Holt said.

“I am strangely finding myself with an abundance of free time. Irony, I believe people call it, considering I am a prisoner.”

“Good. I’m coming over.”

Before she could ask what he meant, the communication window winked out, and then suddenly, there was a blurring beside her, and Ingram Holt stood before her.

She punched him. Or tried to. He casually moved his arm in a block. Not a clumsy one. A practiced one, a motion that was all too familiar to her. He did the typical counter, grabbing her wrist with his other hand, and twisting her arm, putting her in a hold. He twisted a little as she was bent over, and put a little pressure on her wrist, letting her know he could probably break it if he wanted to.

“That was Na Saiku Jo,” she said. “Who taught you Silayan martial arts?”

“Of course you recognized it. Let’s just say, an old man taught me once upon a time.” He let her go, and then sat down on the edge of Kir’s bed. He looked about the room. “You know, for one of the better fighters of your generation, you sure seem to get captured a lot. I guess that’s what happens when your people get nearly genocided. Middling talent becomes a standout.” 

He was trying to get a rise out of her. It was working. Still, she refused to let him see it. “Is there a reason you’re here?”

“Yes. A conversation is going to happen here, and I want to eavesdrop on it.”

“And you need my help to do it?”

“Not even remotely. But I figure, while I’m listening in, so should you. It won’t cost me any extra effort to have you there, and it might even help my cause.”

“And what is your cause?”

“Personal amusement,” he said with a wide smile.

Her head throbbed at that one. 

“Ah, sorry,” he said. The apology didn’t trigger her Pact. “I have a lot of plates spinning at the moment. For a second, I overlooked the fact you’re a Lieseeker. Allow me to rephrase. My cause is important, and for the betterment of people outside of myself.”

Nothing. No pain. It didn’t make it true. It just meant he thought it was true. She couldn’t feel when he was lying to himself. Not yet, anyway.

She had nightmares of the day when she’d be able to sense even that. 

“I can’t leave,” she said. “I’ve been ordered to not escape.”

“And you won’t be escaping at any point. We’ll be remaining on Pruana Isle the entire time. And when we’re done, you’ll be safely back in this room. Besides, your girlfriends are currently doing something insanely reckless to attempt to help you on that front. I don’t know everything, or if they’ll succeed, but I approve of it wholeheartedly. They’re attempting something I’ve never seen attempted before. And I’ve done a lot of reading on the subject.”

She wanted to ask what he was talking about. To ask if Kir or Otter were safe, what they were doing. But she knew that was what he wanted. 

All Rua’s life, she’d been well-acquainted with one aspect of people’s nature. She’d seen it every day in the way most treated her. She’d seen it during the Occupation, with how the Criobani treated the Silayans. She knew what cruelty looked like. And Ingram Holt had a cruel streak in him rivalling the worst monsters she’d ever seen.

Showing concern, showing weakness, would just satisfy him on some level. So she refused to give it to him. Instead, she decided to visit some cruelty of her own on him.

“So, did Il-Su cost you an investment in the Islands?” she asked innocently.

It was a probe. A needle meant to unsettle him. A quick little message telling him that she knew he’d been hurt somehow by Il-Su, and that was why he’d delighted so much in trying to kill him in that pathetic little ‘tournament.’

She didn’t expect the absolute fury to come over him.

His face went red and his whole body tensed. He took a single step towards her, and she knew he was considering violence.

But that wasn’t what caught her attention.

For a second, the mask slipped.

Those weary eyes lit to life once more. Those weary, green eyes changed.

Or rather, one of them did. It went from green… to blue.

Silayan blue.

It was like looking in a mirror, for just a second. And then it was gone. 

The facial and bone structure was wrong. The skin tone was too pale. And Silayans didn’t have blonde hair, not without dye. But Rua knew one of her people when she saw one. 

He was a half-breed, just like her. 

Holt visibly calmed himself, closed his eyes, and when he re-opened them, both were the same faded green they’d been before. He tipped his head to her in a small bow.

“Well played.”

“But you’re from their world,” Rua said. “Did you make yourself like this on purpose?”

Rua didn’t know how the Character Creation worked. Otter had tried to explain it to her a few times. It’d sounded ridiculous. The kind of fantasy that only people who revelled in stories could enjoy. The ability to change one’s appearance, just by thinking it? 

How much she envied that ability. What she would give to just be able to use it, even once. 

“I’m not going to answer that question,” Holt said. “And if you pursue it, I won’t take you to hear the conversation.”

“Very well. How do you plan on having us eavesdrop on anyone? I’m a prisoner.”

“Easily. We’ll be able to do it simply by virtue of you being a prisoner.”

“And you? With those eyes, you’ll be mistaken as a Criobani.”

Holt waved a hand in front of himself, and a mirror appeared in front of him, like liquid silver hung suspended in the air. As he peered into it, his skin paled, turning the snow white of a Mikovian, his eyes turning into an icy blue. His clothes altered, shimmering for a moment, before taking on the rough look of Mikovian clothing, with thick fabric meant to battle against a cold the Silayan Islands never had. 

“Is… is that the Character Creator?” Rua had, circling to the front of the mirror to look at herself.

Her heart beat a little quicker. How did she use it? Could she? She reached out with one hand, ready to touch the silvery surface of the mirror. Holt grabbed her wrist gently.

“Don’t.”

“Why? It would cost you nothing, to let me use this.”

“It would cost me nothing, but you everything. I know what you want.” 

The mirror vanished. Rua made a choked sound of pain she hadn’t been aware she could make. 

“Never let others tell you what you are,” Holt said gently. “You are a Lieseeker. You above all should dismiss their lies.”

“They’re not lies. I would know.”

“Just because ignorance makes them believe the lies doesn’t make them any less so. Not all of the Criobani are bad. Not even all the warmongers and imperialists are bad. They’re just people.”

She hated that there was no pain. She hated that he believed it.

“Oh? And I suppose you’d count yourself among the good ones,” she said bitterly.

“Not even remotely. I am damned for what I have done and what I continue to do, and I am fine with that. There’s a saying on Earth. ‘The ends justify the means.’ Machiavelli. A son of a bitch if there ever were one. Monsters always use his so-called wisdom to justify atrocious behaviour, and I am no different.”

Rua wondered what it would be like to look in that silvery mirror, and see two blue eyes staring back at her. She worried that Holt would offer her a deal. The ability to change her appearance, in exchange for something.

What would she agree to just to be free of that tale-telling eye?

“Come,” he said, holding a hand out to her. 

She looked at it. At the skin too white and pale, with blue veins showing underneath. 

“If I’m a prisoner,” she said numbly, “then you would be playing the part of escort. Or jailor. It would ruin the lie we’re trying to tell if you’re holding my hand.”

She walked to the door and opened it. It was unlocked. Just like always. Why lock the door of a prisoner who was incapable of escaping?

She didn’t need to ask Holt where they were going. It was obvious. There was only one person on the island who was worth spying on. The question was, why did Holt want to spy on Old Grey?

No one in the halls looked twice at her. There were more soldiers about than usual. That would make sense to a casual observer. Of course there would be more. Old Grey would be on alert. He was openly making moves against the Silayans. They’d be preparing for battle.

But the Mikovians were supposed to have limited numbers. He should only be fielding a finite amount of soldiers. She knew he was getting more people from the mainland from his Wayfaring station. But he was being more obvious about it. There weren’t many Silayans on Pruana Isle - her people had always been nomadic, and Ri Oa was an odd exception - but there were a handful. Enough that Sureya surely had a few spies on the island. Enough for Old Grey to be certain of that fact.

And here he was, openly displaying his numbers. 

It worked in their favour. Before this, Old Grey likely knew every soldier under his command. Now, there would be new recruits. Strangers. Holt was just another new soldier in the mix.

Rua walked to the main hall. It was close to midday. A large truanu was roasting on a spit in the middle of the hall, a barbaric way of cooking meat. They hadn’t even skinned the beast before tossing it over the fire. The whole hall stunk of burnt hair and cheap ale. 

Soldiers sat about, drinking while on duty. None were drunk, not yet, but with Mikovians, it was only a matter of time. Not that it hurt them. They tended to fight better that way. It meant they wouldn’t even feel the pain that’d drive them into a berserk status.

That red-headed Criobani member of Kir’s Ice Watch, Siddic, was sitting on a bench, casually juggling hatchets while barely paying attention, all while talking to Lita, the Silayan of the same group. He said something, and they both laughed. Rua tried to skirt around them, but as she tried to walk by, one of the hatchets buried itself in the ground at her feet.

“Little girl,” Siddic called in a sing-song voice. “Why don’t you come talk to us?”

She turned to him, and Siddic was sporting a fresh mass of bruises on the side of his face, one of his eyes nearly swollen shut, his lip split and still bleeding.

“Have you been fighting?” Rua asked. 

Siddic thumbed at his lip. “Oh, this? Nah. Punishment, from Old Grey, for trying to kill Kir.”

“It almost worked, too,” Lita said with a wide smile. “Too bad. I’d be on a ship five islands out by now if it had.”

“You what?” Rua said. She could feel the fury rising in her. “How? You can’t hurt her.”

“Not directly. Had to go about it in the most roundabout way possible. I forged some orders from Old Grey. Gave them to her. And now you’re here, and she’s been told she’s not allowed back on Pruana Isle until this whole mess has sorted itself out.”

“I just heard back from some old friends in Ri Oa that I had spying the whole thing from a messenger bird,” Lita said. She took a gulp from a glagon of ale. “Kir nearly threw herself off one of the watch towers by the sea. Hilarious. Wish I could’ve seen it, the moment the despair hit her. The exact moment she realized what a piece of shit she is.”

“She what?” Rua asked. 

She’d just spoken to Otter. This hadn’t been mentioned. She hadn’t been told. They’d mostly exchanged words about Juala being alive, and Otter’s ludicrous desire to fuck the brat. This was so much more important. Why hadn’t Otter said anything?

“She nearly killed herself,” Siddic crowed. “Would’ve been amazing. The pale bitch, dead on the rocks, her brains splattered everywhere. We’d all be free again. It almost worked. But apparently that dumb cunt Reyna switched sides yet again and saved Kir. What’s up with her?”

“No idea,” Lita said. “First she works for Juala. Then suddenly she’s under Kir’s payroll and spying. Then she’s not picking up any of the dead drop messages for her, and now she’s saving Kir’s life. Never trust a drunk.”

“That’s a fact,” Siddic said, capping his statement off by noisily finishing off his ale. “Well, Reyna doesn’t have Kir’s protection. Next I see her, she’s dead.”

Rua took a swing at him before she even knew what she was thinking. 

Her fist should’ve connected solidly with his chin. Instead, she missed by a good four or five inches, hitting nothing but empty air. Siddic belched, and pretended not to notice.

Holt placed a hand on Rua’s shoulder, and guided her away from the table. As they walked away, Siddic and Lita burst into a fresh round of laughter. 

“He’s a Pathrender,” Holt said. “That one alters trajectories. Be careful of him. He’s dangerous. But his Pact has a glaring weakness.”

“You know that just from seeing one missed punch?”

“Yes.”

“What’s his weakness?”

“That’s the kind of knowledge that comes with a price.”

“If I wanted to go into debt with you, I’d just have you kill Old Grey. And stop this invasion. Save my people.” She paused. “Could you do that?”

Holt was silent for a moment as they weaved through the crowd of Mikovian soldiers. “No. Not even I’m that powerful.”

“Not even with your… what did you call them? Horsemen?”

“We’d do damage. And the Mikovians would be bloodied. But with numbers on their side, a fortified position, and their Stormcallers? And then there’s the issue of Old Grey. And Haran.”

“Haran?”

“You’ll see. Come along. We’re almost there.”