Letter Nine

Dear Sneffles,
During the interregnum in our battle our new colleagues introduced themselves. The barbarian calls himself Szechuan and is very straightforward, as is their kind. The Cleric of Desna is called Driar and I immediately asked for his blessing, just in case.

The door to the next room squeaked open like a coffin’s lid and inside we found something just as nasty—an insouciant vampire named Ramoska Arkminos (where do vampires get their ridiculous names?), who was more than a little perturbed at us interrupting his “work”—vivisecting a young man on a nearby slab.

Arkminos claimed to be independent of Rolth but my guess is they both work for the same person, and I think we know her name.

The boy on the rack turned out to be the musician, Ruan, we’ve been looking for. Still seeming to misunderstand the danger he was in, Arkiminos tried bargaining with us in a backhanded way, and when that didn’t work tried the “turning into bats” con. I picked one off with my bow but Bardar had a better idea, destroying his casket so he could not gather his parts in his refuge. Personally, I would have liked to see him try and return with half his pieces missing but that’s an experiment I’ll save for later.

We did the right thing first, which was loot, finding plenty of evidence about Arkiminos’s research into the Varisian resistance to the Blood Veil and information on a possible cure. Ruan was strapped in his bed with some tricky contraptions that would have killed him outright if we’d proceeded hastily but we were able to avoid all that and release him from his misery. At least one story has a happy ending.

Kroft finally showed up and Finarfin started making googoo eyes at her. I would say that combat makes him horny except that everything makes him horny.

I acquired some primo items during our looting and the Queen laid so much gold on us for finding the Blood Veil cure that I had to hire some boys for a couple of coppers each to haul it home. Bardar and PJ helped me pick out shadowed armor and some other righteous equipage. That’s how I was able to meet with you that day in the chapel with no one the wiser. I know your keepers have the best guards money can buy and magic traps galore but it was easy to sneak in using my new gear. I watched from the darkened nave as you approached, supple as a young cat and just as alert. I watched your every move closely with delight and despair before stepping from the darkness to reveal myself to you. You gasped sweetly, as you do when I’ve pleased you, then stepped into my arms. I’ve missed you so!

We could not talk, nor make a sound. I could only hold you there, breathing your sweet breath, tasting your mouth, the warmth—nay, heat!—of your body pressed to mine. Then came the discrete knock at the chapel door as your nurse, bless her caring soul, came to fetch you. With one final desolate look, hesitation in your step, you slipped away. A good thing my comrades weren’t along to help me because I wanted to kill all those who keep you from me. “Patience, my love,” I hear you say, and I agree. Only time can bring our plans to fruition and we can leave this gods-damned city behind and maybe join Finarfin and Shelley at Callistra’s sex camp in the sticks. Then I’ll track down Redcullin for the rent he owes me.

We had some time off after our adventure. PJ and Driar set up shop to brew up a cure for Blood Veil using the notes we’d discovered. Kroft told us that the Gray Maidens were massing in Old Korvosa so I sent a note to some of our friends to watch out for themselves. Kroft then told us that there is now a bounty on our heads! If only my old Mam was here to see this, she’d be so proud of her little boy! Kroft wanted us to stay at her Keep but I scoffed at this, who knows what traitors, assassins, and spies linger there? I preferred returning to my rooms by the docks where I know the lay of the land.

Before leaving to take his Shelley back out to her old dad’s farm, Finarfin confided that he was planning a special surprise for her and by the twinkle in his eyes I’d bet that he’s about to pop something (other than his rocks) to her. I admit, the thought of a bunch of little—littler—Finarfins doesn’t do much for my appetite but love hath mysterious ways.

Back in the ’hood I discovered that more people wanted to avoid me than congratulate me. Some hero. Picking up a couple flagons of wine I wondered if I’d been hasty to refuse Kroft’s offer of sanctuary but soon forgot all that when I got home and discovered that a new ghost had joined the crew, my old pal Majenko!

It was a happy reunion. I confessed my guilt over his demise but he cared not a whit, saying that he was heading for a better place where he will be reunited with his ancestor-kind. I promised to make a good pair of boots from his hide. For the rest of the evening I drank wine and laughed as he told me funny stories about living with Burns—what a wacky guy, I never guessed—and that idiot who put him in a cage, the King of the Spiders. Talk about low rent!

I guess I passed out where I was sitting because the next thing I remember I feel a familiar tickling in my brain from Majenko trying to wake me telepathically. There was a funny smell and flames leaped voraciously across my floor towards me. Bastards! I flung myself heedlessly through the bay window, falling to the street below. I watched the entire building, then half the block, burn. I guess not many firefighters escaped the Blood Veil. Thank Desna I’d left my gear with Kroft.

Unexpectantly came a howling as the flames released the barbarian spirits from their ensorcellment in my rooms. While the screams and cries of real people surrounded us, Redcullin’s pals lined up to say their farewells. Their joy at finally being free lightened my mood. Lastly, I thanked Majenko again for saving my life and bade him farewell, watching him gyre happily away to join his soul to the Ancestors. Then I picked up more wine before heading back to Kroft’s. She was good enough not to say, “I told you so.”

The next day I was still nursing minor burns and a wicked hangover when Bardar dropped his bombshell. He’s hooking up with Kroft to help run the bigger picture. I caught them canoodling a short time later so it’s more than altruism motivating our pious friend. I guess it’s just the season for love around here.

On his way back to town Finarfin noticed graffiti saying “The Dudes Abide”. He brought back news of a cult of “people’s warriors defying the wicked Queen.” Worse, their heroes, The Dudes, turn out to be us! By Rovagug’s black teeth all I’ve wanted to do is loot, party, and wear nice clothes. I’m not comfortable with this hero shit.

That evening Kroft introduced us to Marcus Endrin, Commandant of the Sable Company, badasses all. Oh, Desna, such is the uncertainty of life, for by the next morning Endrin was dead, slain by the Queen’s own hand after failing to assassinate her. Incredibly, she had used his own bolt against him after he’d given it to her through the head. I’d like to know the spell you need to cast to get away with that.

Also, the Gray Maidens had made their move, burning all but one of the bridges to Old Korvosa. Why they’d want that rat-infested hellhole is beyond me and they’re welcome to it, except Master Orisini is asking us to join him and there is no way I won’t respond. The others feel the same way so Kroft opened up her armory and we took what we thought we’d need. I whirled my new Starknife on the tips of my fingers, giving Driar a wink to buck him up.



We made our way up towards the old town, things growing quieter the closer we came to the channel separating the city. The few citizens who were about avoided us, scurrying from doorway to doorway.  All the ruined bridges were a sight to behold, like a crocodile’s broken teeth, most were burned, the rest ripped apart like so much balsa. Only one bridge was left, arching across the fetid waters, and it was barricaded. While I could see only a few Gray Maidens scrutinizing the citizen’s who dared their wrath, I knew many more were hidden in the nearby buildings with crossbows at the ready.

The worst part (so far) was in taking the potion of breathing and entering the water. You know how I hate swimming anyway and this was ten times worse. We actually walked along the bottom while breathing water. It stunk like a camel’s ass. I finally took Driar’s hand, shut my eyes, and let him draw me along. The water was truly filthy. We literally had to make room amongst the grinning corpses, guts leaking from their bellies, to get out of the water. Thankfully the dead gave us cover and we were able to gain the other side undetected.

Since I knew this part of town best I took the lead and soon we stood before Master Orisini’s mansion. All was quiet as a grave. It was dark inside except for the low flames in a fireplace. Upstairs there was a strange, familiar smell that I could not place. A pattern of dust lay on the floor, as if someone had sifted flour over the boards and rugs. Driar was the first to realize what this implied and I suddenly remembered the smell in my apartment as it was erupting in flames. It was a trap. They were expecting us.

There wasn’t time to worry about who had betrayed us. Two henchmen leaped out of the shadows igniting a conflagration that quickly spread around us. They caught me unaware and hurt me badly before I gutted one of them with my rapier while Szechuan filleted the other but it was too late. Quickly we searched the room, finding a large trunk filled with Master’s finest weaponry. But what caught my attention was the black outfit folded on top. In amazement I held it up, realizing with a shock that it was Black Jack’s costume, which means that Orisini was Uncle Jack! I felt naive as a boy watching his mother make the two-backed beast with a stranger for the first time. No wonder he never visited without his mask. No wonder he took interest when a wet-behind-the-ears young punk like me asked him for training. I will avenge him if it kills every one of us.

We barely made it outside before the building erupted like Taxing Day in the spring. We were trying to decide on a place to regroup when one of Orisini’s students, who had been staking the joint out, ran up and offered us a place to hide. It turns out he’s a “Dudes” fanboy and was so excited to meet us he stuttered like toothless Crosby when you flashed your tit at him. I’m sure we’ll have many questions for this boy but his first answer was a doozy—Master disappeared while meeting with “The artist known as Scream.” You know, the guy who killed everyone at the art opening of his “Blood Veil” paintings when the paint he’d used turned out to be infectious. Why are there so many artists involved with this crap?

Amidst all this craziness, returning to you is what keeps me alive,
Love,
Cordobles

Finarfin's Eleventh Report is Next