LII. The Award for the Least Effective Jail Goes To…
"... I picked his pocket while he gloated. I have the keys to my cage right here," you say, a flick of your fingers lifting the key up from inside your garments for a moment.
That draws a cackle from Jarida Dal, and a one-eyed stare. "You? You ain't a proper lady."
"I am very much a proper lady," you say primly. "Just like your Elemi, I can trace my heritage back to a legion of the Shogunate."
"Aye, and you're Cheraki no less. Your folk lost their empire even before mine. Just another fallen dragon givin' herself airs and graces."
That stings. Not very much, for Cherak's brief flowering of dominion died in Air's cold, but it's a reminder that if your ancestors had been handed all advantages certain other legion remnants were handed - not looking at anyone in particular,
Lookshy - history would have been very different. "Originally from Cherak, but I've been all over the place," you lie.
She gives you a knowing look. "Had to leave a plot of places because of angry spouses?"
"Yes." Well, she's not
wrong per se.
"Ha! I know the feeling!" She must have read your studiously neutral expression, because that draws a cackle from her. "You thought I always looked like this, gal? I was a great beauty back in the day. Can't say it was exactly my choice to wind up in this shithole city." There's an unexpected amount of sympathy there, and you wonder if she's really actually talking from personal experience. The sphere of the gods is not for mortals to know, in theory. In practice, though, you've spent more than enough time making deals with gods and godlings to know they're very, very human. In good, and more often bad, ways. Also, they have an irrational dislike of your handsome princes, probably because your boys are so much more fun than they are.
The prospect of freedom is taunting Jarida Dal, especially because you make no immediate move to free yourself.
"Well?"
"Of course we're not going to break out immediately. I'm far from a fool. Zed is a demon lord and he has powers that I don't understand. He can also kick the everliving shit out of me," you add sourly, "and I won't get a second chance to pick his pocket. Plus, frankly, taking a bit of time to rest is necessary after that first beating."
"So when?"
"Just after sunset. He may be able to walk in the sun, but," you stretch, "his demonic servants hide from the light. So if he wants to get out of here, he needs to coordinate and oversee them if he's going to feed them to the spellwall to exhaust its potency enough for him to get out.
That earns you something of a scowl because you just reminded her of your accidental culpability in this, but she nods at you. "Just don't fuck it up for both of us."
"I have no intention of dying in this cage, trust me," you agree. A thought strikes you. "And when he said that you can't tell me his name."
"Aye." She spits on the floor. "He's a demon sorcerer, and cursed me. He really doesn't want his name getting out."
Wise, but annoying. You nod, and try to get comfortable while you wait for the light to fade in the sky. Maybe you can unpick it later. You settle your mind, let your wood-blood spread through your system to take the edge of the aches and pains, and of course, mentally work on drawing up the contract for your deal with Jarida Dal.
The glimpse of sky visible through the not-window of the sanctum is turning red when you feel fit to offer the deal to the vermin-goddess. It's been plenty of time for her to stew and anticipate her long-denied freedom.
"So if I get you right, gal, you basically want me to be a patron for your jansi of one - and anyone in your service or who you recognise as kin?"
"In essence, yes, grandmother." You're not expecting to adopt anyone, but you'll be damned if you leave out a standard clause like that. For one, it makes you more valuable as a marriage candidate if you bring your own patron goddess with you.
"And of course, I gotta not talk about your past."
"We all have things we're running from."
"Ha! Not me! I'm as honest as the day is long." That statement is such bullshit that you don't even bother to question it. "Yeah. We'll shake on it when you free me, and then afterwards you can give me a proper ritual of adoption."
"Of course, grandmother."
"With proper incense and some nice children singing my honour and you can cut the throat of some beastie and leave it out for my vermin."
"Consider it done," you say, mentally jotting up the costs and what you can afford.
"So let's get out of this place!"
"It's not dark yet," you say. But you do start to stretch out, doing what little you can of a Graceful Willow kata when you're trapped in a cage, ignoring the grumble of your stomach and how thirsty you are. And you think about your revenge on Zed, of course.
The click of the turning key is a nice down payment on the satisfaction that you need. You pull yourself out, and lock the cage door behind you. No point in letting him work out exactly how you escaped.
"Get me out of here!" Jarida Dal half-demands, half-begs.
You nod. There's no need to tease her. You pace around the binding circle that holds her, and note that it's clearly a product of the Malfean arts. Even the Old Realm chalked on the ground is in a hellish dialect. The heather and gorse of Zed's demonic presence writhes from the ground. But it's still fundamentally a binding circle, you're not the one bound, and you're pretty sure that the sorcery laid into it is aimed at gods, not men.
But because you don't trust Zed, you still grab part of an old crumbling picture frame from the walls and wrap your outer coat around it to make an improvised brush to rub out the chalk markings. Jarida Dal agrees with your suspicions because she cringes back, covering her one remaining eye with her hands.
Fortunately there was no further trap hidden in the binding circle, and the circle breaks silently and without fuss.
"Oh, that… that coulda been a lot worse," the goddess agrees. She works her shoulders. "Kinda tingled. Get these chains off me, gal. Start by pullin' off these cursed demon prayer tags. With 'em gone, I can get out myself.,"
There are demon-wrought prayer strips on the chains. You tear them off and pocket them - no point in letting that knowledge go to waste - and as you remove the last one, Jarida Dal shrinks down into the shape of a grey rat the size of a small cat. She's just as battered and scarred in that form as her human one, but that way she can easily wriggle loose from the metal. Scampering out of the circle, she grows back up into a human form and stretches with the sound of old clicking bones and the clatter of dice.
"Great gods, I can't believe it," she says softly. There are tears in the corner of her one eye, and when she sees you looking, she scowls. "What're you starin' at, gal? Ain't see a goddess stretch afore?"
"Just wanting to be sure that you can walk, grandmother," you say.
"Well, if I tire, I'll turn into a rat and you can keep me in your bag," she snaps back. With a disgusting noise at the back of her throat, she hacks phlegm into her hand, and offers it to you. "A deal's a deal. Let's shake on it and then get the fuck outta here."
You shake because it's necessary, but gods and dragons, you're going to need such a bath when you get out of here. Divine saliva on your hands is no better than human saliva. You wipe off what you can on your coat, but it's not enough to make you feel clean. But you can't focus on that. You have other things you have to do before you can have the bath you desperately need.
And of course, you can feel the certainty of the bond with Jarida Dal. It's something you can call on to cast the spell that'll be your means of escape. It almost makes being dirty worth it.
Jarida Dal stretches, her bones clicking and her joins popping. "Ack! This hurts like blazes. I ain't been able to move properly in far too long." She turns her eye to lock her one good eye on you. "And how about you, dragon-child? Can you run?"
"Stiff, but I think so."
The goddess is being proud. She can just about hobble, but you won't deny her that. Instead, you make your way to the door of this room, already prepared for the next step of picking this lock. He took the cuffs you took from the goddess on your way to Cahzor, but he didn't find the little picklock tools hidden in an inner pocket and you're ready to… find that the door was open.
Praise the dragons, he really wasn't expecting you to escape. He didn't chain the door up once more and there isn't even a demonic servant as a jailer. Of course, that's your later realisation, because at the time you start to hyperventilate out of fear that this is all some cruel trap of his. Only the fact that you're definitely not getting out of here if you stay forces you onwards.
The last traces of the day's light add contrast to the shadows and gloom of the divine sanctum. Jarida Dal inhales. "Good. He ain't here."
"How do you know?"
That gets you a one-eyed glare. "You think I don't know the stink of that demon after all that time? This was my house and he's ruined everything - look at all these damn demon books - but I can still feel my way around it."
Goodness, that really helps you breathe more easily. "That's something, at least," you say. Ah ha! He's dumped all your possessions in a corner, after having rummaged through them. There's still some food and water there, and you guzzle whatever you can. Oh, and blessings be! He's also dumped the cuffs and the jade ritual dagger that you named Tramontane there. Of course he couldn't use them yet. He's a demon, and would have to profane them to draw on their power. He hasn't had time yet.
"So you got yer hands on Sukhovey," Jarida Dal says, showing more teeth than is polite with her battered old grin. "I guess I can let you keep it. After all, the Elemi ain't here anymore. And its nature ain't what it used to be."
"I named it Tranmontane, after a cold northern wind," you tell her, as you wrap it in cloth and stash it in your bag. It's too cold to hold and you don't have an insulated sheath for it yet.
"Hah. Good name, from how it's changed."
That's something, at least. You're going to have to abandon the green jade statue, but at least it's something. Sell it or keep it, it's yours now. "Let's get out of here."
"Not yet," Jarida Dal says grimly, cracking her knuckles. "Gal, I built this place. I brought it into this world and I sure as hell ain't leaving it whole when I'm gone. So I'm blowin' this place up."
"With us in it?" Your voice comes out as something of a squeak.
"You eejit girl! I want to wreck his things, not wind up dyin' myself!"
That's something of a relief. Actually, it's a lot of a relief. You hadn't thought you'd misjudged this goddess's intentions to miss that she was suicidal. But after Zed, you're just a bit off balance. "How long will it take?" you ask.
"Not long." She heads off down a familiar path, knees clicking as she hobbles along making disgusted noises at the sight of everything that 'the wretch'd demon' has done to the place. Your curiosity rises as she leads you into the same room that Zed was keeping those copies of the Broken-Winged Crane in - and yes, they're still there.
Jarida Dal gives one of the other piles of books a vicious shove, sending them toppling over. "Stinkin' stuff. The demon flays his own servants to get the leather for these things. Vile wretch, doin' this to a place I loved and built with my own rats. Well, I know how to deal with this." Her grin is a knife in the dark. "Ruination and bad luck, aye. I'm not feeding this place to my vermin, a'cos it'd make them sick. But I made this place for me, and the Elemi used to offer me awful nice prayers that I give them good luck and keep the bad luck and the collapse of sacred things away from them. Just wait here, gal." She thumps the wall behind the pile of books she just knocked over, and stone parts like curtains. "I got a closing rite to do, and I'll get to eat the power I put into this place in the first place. And I'm not showing greedy little eyes like yours this persific divine secret."
Specific, you think irritably. "Of course not, grandmother."
"Rightio. If he shows back and stabs you, scream out a warning so I'll know not to come out." And with that said she vanishes into the alcove, the stone swinging back behind her.
You regret everything. This malicious old goddess has more than a little kinship with Sei.
"I find that very offensive," your familiar purs, brushing against your leg as he once again appears from nowhere.
"You could have let me out, you know."
"You were doing such a good job escaping on your own that I really didn't need to do a thing. Well, at least you're nearly out of here. I don't like that demon lord."
"Well, yes," you say absent-mindedly. Your attention is on something else. Specifically, the place where Zed keeps his copies of the Broken-Winged Crane. You can probably only hide one on your person. But it's said that the knowledge in just one copy can damn a soul, so you'd only really need one. You're not greedy.
"Rena, no."
"Rena, yes!" you breathe, as you ease open the door. He hasn't locked it again. Maybe your picking jammed the lock. He won't even know you took one - and he'll lose them all if the goddess collapses this sanctum like she plans to.
All around you, you can feel the presence of the Things That Lurk In Corners. Their malice, their wickedness, making the shadows creep and crawl. You don't take one, not yet. Your hand hovers, overwhelmed by choice - and held back by fear.
Oh, everyone knows there are risks to that book. That it is said to steal the souls of its readers, that just opening it can call demons from their hell-prison. But the ones who say such things are Immaculates, and they lie to cultivate fear about that which they do not understand. There could be such
power in it. You've always had to take power where you can find it.
And yet.
While you are
more than clever enough to escape the crude traps of demons, there is something else for you to be scared of. Zed is half-mad in the way of demons, but some of what he says matches what you know from astrologers. That the study of the future can snare you in the webs of fate that the gods weave. And if the gods wish to chain men in their plans, demons are no different. They are both implements of Order, and merely disagree over whose Order gets to rule.
No one gets to tell you what you are going to do. You have lived with this one rule for decades. You are not a slave to fate, and you will never let yourself become a pawn to one of the demon kings. But you're smart enough to avoid their traps and this might be the only way to know what Zed will do next. And to get the power that is your right and you have always been denied, of course.
You hestigate, for a moment, caught in the interstice between freedom and power.
This is a significant choice which will affect the options for XP expenditure at the end of the arc.
What does Rena choose?
[ ] Let It Burn. No one controls your future. Reject the lies of a false future history and deny its hold on you. And spite that bastard Zed by showing how little you care for his nonsense by letting it all be destroyed when this place collapses.
[ ] Seize the Future. Take one. Hide it on your person, and steal his secrets. Take his lore, his visions of a future history, so that you can use it against him. It'll be so awfully satisfying to spite him by using his own lost secrets against him.
"
