The Tinpot Princess and Her Many Travels

Flashkannon said:

The vote counter seems a little glitchy... Nevill, in particular, seems to be just about everywhere.

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The vote counter loves Nevill and repeats his name as often as possible. Except in the most recent count where it tried to allay suspicion by ignoring his votes and leaving him out completely. (Yeah, I ship Nevill/Vote Counter. What's wrong with that? Still less creepy than Jana/Elys.)

Flashkannon said:

This line is unexpectedly hilarious and I can't articulate why.

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Many things in this quest and A Hedge Maze Is You seem hilariously silly if you try to explain them in only one sentence.

Here's the next chapter:

Chandagnac said:

She sighed. 'If you won't be dissuaded, then I suppose I might as well. It would be better to give you some directions than let you get lost.' A thoughtful pause. 'Maybe I should come with you? The big city can be a dangerous place for a young girl on her own.'

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'Yeah, that would be great,' I said, trying not to sound too eager. 'If you don't mind?'

'Nah, it's my job,' she said with a little shrug. 'Mediating between gods and mortals. That's what Cunning Women are for. Besides, it's gotta be more interesting than washing clothes.'

'Don't you have novices to do chores like that?'

'That gaggle of soppy little girls? Sure, if you don't mind them staining everything a blotchy dishwater grey. On the other hand, if you want a job done right, you need someone who knows what they're doing. That's me, usually.'

'And you won't be missed?'

Amber waved a hand dismissively. 'I figure someone else can take a turn, for today.'

Chandagnac said:

'Hmm. Spoilt for choice,' I said. 'Thank you. You've given me much to think about.'

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Shakily, I said, 'Uh, I… think I should talk to the Forgotten God first. Years ago, an evil water spirit tried to drown me. I came very close to death. Mishrak healed my body, but the Forgotten God… well, I'm not sure what he did. Perhaps he prevented my soul's return to the Wheel. Perhaps he reunited it with my body. Or perhaps he didn't do anything. Whichever is the case, I reckon it'd be polite to talk to him first. You know, considering that I've already got a connection with him.'

'Makes sense to me,' said Amber.

'Although, if I could choose any of the gods to be my patron, I probably wouldn't choose the Forgotten One. He seems rather too grim and sombre for my tastes. I'm more of a cheerful, happy-go-lucky sort of gal, you know?' I gave Amber a bright smile, hoping she'd give me one in exchange.

Instead, she looked thoughtful. 'So… when you ask the Forgotten God if he wants you to be his Chosen, you're gonna hope he says no?'

'Well... maybe,' I said. 'D'you think that's a bad idea?'

'I wouldn't recommend offering to be the Forgotten God's Chosen if you don't actually want to be,' she said. 'Deceiving him is not a good idea. It's like the old proverb says: you can delay him, or you can hide from him, but you can't escape him forever. The Forgotten God waits for you at the end of all roads.'

'I wasn't going to lie to him!' I cried. 'I need a god to be my patron and he's as good as any!'

'And I'm sure he'd be very flattered to hear you say that,' she said with an impish smirk.

'Ugh!' I threw up my hands in frustration. 'Let's just go!'

'Which of the Forgotten God's temples do you think we should go to?'

'The one in the Sprawl,' I decided. 'That's near here, right?'

She nodded. 'All right. Follow me.'

We left the garden, walked back through the house, and saw Sister Margarethe waiting in the vestibule. Amber stopped to talk to her.

'Just to let you know: I'm escorting Jana here to the temple of the Forgotten God in the Sprawl,' she said.

Margarethe folded her arms, sniffed, and said, 'Do as you will. You always do.'

'In that case, I didn't need to tell you where I'm going: I'm just being polite,' said Amber with a cheeky grin. 'Maybe you should try it sometime?'

At that, Margarethe made a disgusted noise, turned away, and retreated from the room with a gait that somewhat reminded me of a praying mantis.

'Wow. She really doesn't like you,' I said.

Amber gave an insouciant shrug. 'Hey, I can't help it if she's allergic to fun. Come on, let's go.'

*

The House of Cunning Women was in a nice part of town. Not the richest, or the most noble, but it had cobbled streets, houses built of sturdy stone and timber, and most of the people I saw in the street were relatively clean, plump, and well-dressed.

That's not to say that everything about it was pleasant. I saw a lot of horse: some of them with riders, others pulling carts or carriages. Everywhere that horses are the main source of transport, they do what horses do. I wrinkled my nose at the smell. Fanciful legend has it that the streets of Truinon are paved with gold; in reality, they're paved with a fine layer of horse shit.

We had to pass through a gate to get to the Sprawl. The guard on duty raised his eyebrows but didn't do anything to stop us. I think his job was to keep disreputable types from getting out of the Sprawl rather than to stop anyone from getting in. He gave Amber a respectful bow as she passed. 'Be careful out there,' he said. 'The Sprawl is a dangerous place, even for Cunning Women such as you.'

Amber's face was set in a determined expression. 'We'll risk it. Got a job to do.'

'On your own heads be it,' said the guard, opening the gate for us.

Immediately, I was shocked by the contrast between the Sprawl and where I'd just come from. They were so unalike, it was as if I'd stepped into a different country. I'd come from the part of Truinon its rulers wanted people to know about: bustling, prosperous, and attractive to the eye. On the other hand, the Sprawl was a place where the city's poor could be walled off and forgotten about. It was a teeming shantytown where makeshift shelters were tightly packed around dilapidated ruins. The shelters were made of chunks of rotting wood, lumps of crumbling masonry, scraps of rusted iron, sheets of tarred canvas, and anything else their makers had been able to find. All around, the streets were piled high with filth and refuse. It was a playground for flies, rats, and other vermin. The stench was so eye-wateringly horrible that the smell of horse manure was sweet perfume by comparison.

'It's no worse than the back streets of Flotsam,' I said, trying to convince myself. 'This is pretty much a home-from-home for me.'

At first glance, the streets looked deserted, but when I took the time to carefully survey my surroundings I realised that there were people everywhere. Hunched figures sitting in their shelters, staring balefully at me. Eyes peering out from underneath a sheet of tarpaulin or through a crack in a crumbling wall. Hooded silhouettes in the alleyways. I felt like they were all staring at me.

Some children crept out of their hiding places and started playing in the street, splashing through the puddles and flinging globs of mud at each other. They were grubby, emaciated children with pinched faces and bright, hungry eyes.

One of them scampered up to me and said, in a shrill piping voice, 'Spare a coin, miss?'

I'd brought some money with me. I would have said yes. But Amber forestalled me. She shook her head, kept a tight grip on my arm, and guided me onwards without a word.

We kept moving, silenty and with purpose, ignoring all possible distractions. The Forgotten God's temple was at the other end of the street. It was a grey, squat, ugly-looking building like an oversized tombstone. However, even if it was dusty and soot-blackened, it still looked functional and well-maintained. Unlike all the other structures in the Sprawl, it didn't look in any immediate danger of collapse.

Amber dragged me through the open door and into the temple. I saw rows of pews, devotional murals on the walls, a pair of locked doors, and a stone altar by the back wall.

'Why did you stop me?' I asked. 'I would only have given him a few coppers. It's not like I can't afford it.'

'If you'd done that, you'd have been assailed by a whole crowd of needy children just like him. They'd have stripped you down to your underwear in less than a minute. Seriously, kids around here are the most unbelievably skilful pickpockets.' She shook her head in wonderment.

'I… I felt sorry for them. I wanted to help them.'

'In the Sprawl, kindness is a weakness. Generosity is a weakness. Charity is a weakness. To live here, you've gotta be strong or quick or cunning enough to take what you want. Nothing else matters.'

'I was like them, once. Poor and on the verge of starvation.'

'Not anymore. Since then, you've lived most of your life as a noblewoman's treasured pet: a life of luxury, pampering, and complete idleness,' Amber said harshly. 'You think that hasn't changed you? You think you're still the same person you were when you were a starving street rat? Of course, you're not.'

I sneered at her. 'You assume too much. Everything you just said is wrong. I'm nobody's pet!'

'Oh? Whatever you say. Let's just do what we came here to do.' Amber sat down on the nearest bench and put on a show of boredom and indifference.

'I don't think I'm wrong to want to help these people,' I said. 'Charity is a virtue, isn't it?'

'There's a soup kitchen near here, run by devotees of Lissa and Nyssa. If you want, we can stop there on the way back and you can leave a donation.' She sighed heavily. 'Be as charitable as you like, that's fine. Very noble of you. Just do it where it's likely to do some good. Don't open yourself up to being robbed by a pack of thieving urchins.'

I thought about what it would be like to live in a place like this. I realised that I didn't blame those children for trying to rob me. If I were in their situation, I'd do the same. I said as much to Amber.

She rolled her eyes. 'Under the circumstances, I'm not going to say they're wrong to do what they do. They survive as best they can. You should do the same, Jana.'

One of the inside doors opened. A terrifying figure lurched into view: a tall, muscular man with horrific scars over one side of his face. He looked as if he'd been partially flayed. One of his eyes was gone, apparently gouged out. His scars were old and sealed-over, but he was still an unnerving sight. Especially since he was wearing a bloodstained leather apron and holding a scalpel in one hand.

What did Jana do? (Choose one)
[] Be polite: "Good afternoon, sir. Are you a priest of the Forgotten God?"
[] Defer to Amber: "Amber, do you know this man?"
[] Shout: "Argh! It's a monster! An undead monster!"
[] Scream and run away.
[] Summon her cold iron dagger and attack.
[] Ask: "Uhh… what's going on here?"
[] Do something else (write in).