Chapter 34: Investigations

Naereni

It was with mild irritation that I let Wade into my room after he knocked, watching him as he held a thick stack of papers. Normally, I might've prodded at his arm or ruffled his hair. Those provoked a reaction that I savored. Today, he had a couple of days of stubble on his chin and looked even more tired than usual, his day shift at the library keeping him awake for the rest of thne hours.

I forcibly quashed the burgeoning sympathy I felt for him. He had lied to me along with Karsien, keeping me out of an important decision.

"What is it?" I asked briskly.

Wade seemed taken aback at my tone, but continued nonetheless. "I, uh, wanted to show you what I've been working on for the past few months," he said, referencing the stack of paper in his hands. He had one lock of hair out of place that I had a primal urge to fix.

I quashed that too.

I frowned at him. "So now that the secret is out, you're going to tell me about what you were working on? When it's already done?"

"Karsien didn't tell me I could show you this either," he replied in a clipped tone. "I came here because I wanted to."

We locked gazes for a moment before I relented. Regardless of my irritation, I did need to know the contents of those papers. "Fine. What did you figure out?"

Wade's shoulders slumped as I gave him the go-ahead, some tension leaking from them. He moved over to my desk, which didn't have anything on it, and set down the heavy papers. He spread them out in a specific manner, clearly having done this before. Then he beckoned me over to look. I stood shoulder to shoulder with him, allowing me to see exactly what he was indicating.

"A few months ago, Karsien asked me to keep an eye out for certain pieces of information," he said, pointing to a specific paper. On it was information about a minor Blood house scrawled in messy handwriting, with what looked like… departure and arrival times for carriages? "He told me to report it to him only, and that's how it started. He'd ask about a few Blood houses and their comings and goings." He shuffled through a few more papers, which allowed me to see the random information. "After a while, though, I started to notice a pattern. On select days of the week, the heads of each of these smaller Bloods would leave their estates at similar times."

Wade wrinkled his nose. "I have trouble tracking their carriages, unfortunately. They tend to use swiftsure horses to pull it along, and those things hate my rats for some reason. It's hard to get close. But I figured out what was happening anyway," he finished, a twinkle in his eye. He held a few pieces of paper in front of me, allowing me to look them over.

I noticed the pattern almost immediately.

"They all leave at around the same times on Tuesdays," I said. And four houses matched that pattern to the letter. Blood Joan, Ilason, Farriver, and Jasper all had important members of their families leave their estates within twenty minutes of each other regularly. "They're meeting up," I said, coming to the logical conclusion.

"That was my guess too," Wade replied. "But it could've been for any old get-together of lords. You know how they are, needing an excuse to spend their wealth and twiddle their thumbs. But Karsien pushed me to keep looking, so I managed to get a rat onto one of the carriages before the swiftsures were hooked up to them."

I raised a brow at how smug he sounded about that. "Is that really such a big deal, getting a rat onto a carriage?" I asked, a bit amused.

Wade gave me a suffering look over the rims of his glasses. "Rats are smart, Naereni, but do you have any idea how difficult it can be to tell them to do something other than 'follow that person and tell me what they say as best your rodent ears can interpret?'" The young man shook his head. "I've spent less time reading an entire book than I have trying to decipher what my familiars tell me."

I rolled my eyes. "I'm sure you had to be extra persuasive for your minions. Did you sacrifice any cheese to them to get them to do your bidding?"

Wade looked back at the paper on the desk, then back at me. "I don't know, Naereni. No matter how much cheese I give you, I'm pretty sure you won't do my bidding," he replied.

Maybe if he gave you enough, a traitorous voice whispered in my mind. "You haven't tried, Wade," I said primly, focusing on the papers in front of us. "Maybe if you give me enough food I will do what you want."

Wade coughed, a flush rising on his cheeks. I suppressed a smirk at that, the predictable reaction giving me a bit of a rush. He was easy to tease, but he wouldn't let himself get sidetracked. "A-anyways, I got one of my rats into their meetings. And that was when I hit the jackpot." Wade shuffled out a few more pieces of paper, once again arraying them before us. "Lord Ilason, Farriver, and Jasper all spoke about the warehouses they owned with the Joans' representative, and how blithe was dropped off there periodically for the Lords to sell. After a while, I was able to pinpoint where these warehouses were from context clues in the meetings."

"So you know where the blithe is stored, then," I said, interest growing. "All of it?"

Wade looked a bit defeated. "Well, all the major distribution points, yeah. There are three warehouses, one owned by each of the Joans' lackey Bloods. But the distillery, where the product is actually made? I don't know where that is. Karsien didn't say so, but I think he was trying to track that down next. He had me looking at when the crates of blithe are delivered, and my guess was he wanted to ambush one of the deliverers to learn about where he came from." Wade shrugged. "I haven't heard back about that."

I looked at the papers in front of me. A dozen different ideas popped into my head, all involving lots of destruction and warehouses burning to the ground. But as Karsien no doubt realized, it would be pointless if we didn't cut off the source of the drugs. I considered what I knew here.

Then I perked up. Karsien had asked very specifically for the papers inside the warehouse's safe. Maybe…

I shifted around in my dimension rune, searching for the contents of the warehouse's safe I had ransacked a couple of nights ago. Quickly finding what I needed, I withdrew the stack of papers.

"Do you think this has the info you need to track down the distillery?" I asked, suppressing a smile.

Wade scanned over the parchments. The sentry looked at each slip of paper methodically, his face visibly brightened with each word. "Naereni, this is exactly what I needed!" he exclaimed, shuffling through each paper. Combining his disheveled appearance, two-day beard, and off-kilter glasses, he almost looked a bit maddened. "The Ilasons must have expected some sort of sly maneuvering from the Joans. It lists specifically from where they got the shipment. This must've been their insurance against any betrayal from the Joans!"

I finally let my smile spread across my face."You're off my shitlist for now, Wade," I finally said.

"I live to serve," the sentry said slyly, still shuffling through the new papers.

I bumped his shoulder with my own. "Tell me about these things next time, got it? Or else no amount of cheese will make me forgive you."

Wade just laughed. I did make sure to fix that one errant lock of hair he had.

Naereni

It was with mild irritation that I let Wade into my room after he knocked, watching him as he held a thick stack of papers. Normally, I might've prodded at his arm or ruffled his hair. Those provoked a reaction that I savored. Today, he had a couple of days of stubble on his chin and looked even more tired than usual, his day shift at the library keeping him awake for the rest of thne hours.

I forcibly quashed the burgeoning sympathy I felt for him. He had lied to me along with Karsien, keeping me out of an important decision.

"What is it?" I asked briskly.

Wade seemed taken aback at my tone, but continued nonetheless. "I, uh, wanted to show you what I've been working on for the past few months," he said, referencing the stack of paper in his hands. He had one lock of hair out of place that I had a primal urge to fix.

I quashed that too.

I frowned at him. "So now that the secret is out, you're going to tell me about what you were working on? When it's already done?"

"Karsien didn't tell me I could show you this either," he replied in a clipped tone. "I came here because I wanted to."

We locked gazes for a moment before I relented. Regardless of my irritation, I did need to know the contents of those papers. "Fine. What did you figure out?"

Wade's shoulders slumped as I gave him the go-ahead, some tension leaking from them. He moved over to my desk, which didn't have anything on it, and set down the heavy papers. He spread them out in a specific manner, clearly having done this before. Then he beckoned me over to look. I stood shoulder to shoulder with him, allowing me to see exactly what he was indicating.

"A few months ago, Karsien asked me to keep an eye out for certain pieces of information," he said, pointing to a specific paper. On it was information about a minor Blood house scrawled in messy handwriting, with what looked like… departure and arrival times for carriages? "He told me to report it to him only, and that's how it started. He'd ask about a few Blood houses and their comings and goings." He shuffled through a few more papers, which allowed me to see the random information. "After a while, though, I started to notice a pattern. On select days of the week, the heads of each of these smaller Bloods would leave their estates at similar times."

Wade wrinkled his nose. "I have trouble tracking their carriages, unfortunately. They tend to use swiftsure horses to pull it along, and those things hate my rats for some reason. It's hard to get close. But I figured out what was happening anyway," he finished, a twinkle in his eye. He held a few pieces of paper in front of me, allowing me to look them over.

I noticed the pattern almost immediately.

"They all leave at around the same times on Tuesdays," I said. And four houses matched that pattern to the letter. Blood Joan, Ilason, Farriver, and Jasper all had important members of their families leave their estates within twenty minutes of each other regularly. "They're meeting up," I said, coming to the logical conclusion.

"That was my guess too," Wade replied. "But it could've been for any old get-together of lords. You know how they are, needing an excuse to spend their wealth and twiddle their thumbs. But Karsien pushed me to keep looking, so I managed to get a rat onto one of the carriages before the swiftsures were hooked up to them."

I raised a brow at how smug he sounded about that. "Is that really such a big deal, getting a rat onto a carriage?" I asked, a bit amused.

Wade gave me a suffering look over the rims of his glasses. "Rats are smart, Naereni, but do you have any idea how difficult it can be to tell them to do something other than 'follow that person and tell me what they say as best your rodent ears can interpret?'" The young man shook his head. "I've spent less time reading an entire book than I have trying to decipher what my familiars tell me."

I rolled my eyes. "I'm sure you had to be extra persuasive for your minions. Did you sacrifice any cheese to them to get them to do your bidding?"

Wade looked back at the paper on the desk, then back at me. "I don't know, Naereni. No matter how much cheese I give you, I'm pretty sure you won't do my bidding," he replied.

Maybe if he gave you enough, a traitorous voice whispered in my mind. "You haven't tried, Wade," I said primly, focusing on the papers in front of us. "Maybe if you give me enough food I will do what you want."

Wade coughed, a flush rising on his cheeks. I suppressed a smirk at that, the predictable reaction giving me a bit of a rush. He was easy to tease, but he wouldn't let himself get sidetracked. "A-anyways, I got one of my rats into their meetings. And that was when I hit the jackpot." Wade shuffled out a few more pieces of paper, once again arraying them before us. "Lord Ilason, Farriver, and Jasper all spoke about the warehouses they owned with the Joans' representative, and how blithe was dropped off there periodically for the Lords to sell. After a while, I was able to pinpoint where these warehouses were from context clues in the meetings."

"So you know where the blithe is stored, then," I said, interest growing. "All of it?"

Wade looked a bit defeated. "Well, all the major distribution points, yeah. There are three warehouses, one owned by each of the Joans' lackey Bloods. But the distillery, where the product is actually made? I don't know where that is. Karsien didn't say so, but I think he was trying to track that down next. He had me looking at when the crates of blithe are delivered, and my guess was he wanted to ambush one of the deliverers to learn about where he came from." Wade shrugged. "I haven't heard back about that."

I looked at the papers in front of me. A dozen different ideas popped into my head, all involving lots of destruction and warehouses burning to the ground. But as Karsien no doubt realized, it would be pointless if we didn't cut off the source of the drugs. I considered what I knew here.

Then I perked up. Karsien had asked very specifically for the papers inside the warehouse's safe. Maybe…

I shifted around in my dimension rune, searching for the contents of the warehouse's safe I had ransacked a couple of nights ago. Quickly finding what I needed, I withdrew the stack of papers.

"Do you think this has the info you need to track down the distillery?" I asked, suppressing a smile.

Wade scanned over the parchments. The sentry looked at each slip of paper methodically, his face visibly brightened with each word. "Naereni, this is exactly what I needed!" he exclaimed, shuffling through each paper. Combining his disheveled appearance, two-day beard, and off-kilter glasses, he almost looked a bit maddened. "The Ilasons must have expected some sort of sly maneuvering from the Joans. It lists specifically from where they got the shipment. This must've been their insurance against any betrayal from the Joans!"

I finally let my smile spread across my face."You're off my shitlist for now, Wade," I finally said.

"I live to serve," the sentry said slyly, still shuffling through the new papers.

I bumped his shoulder with my own. "Tell me about these things next time, got it? Or else no amount of cheese will make me forgive you."

Wade just laughed. I did make sure to fix that one errant lock of hair he had.

Toren Daen

I was watching Greahd from a rooftop, my Rat's mask on and my hood up. I had taken it upon myself to deliver the woman a few loaves of bread using money out of my pocket. She slowly pulled her wagon out into the street, laden with pots and food.

It had snowed again yesterday, blanketing the world in a coat of white. My breath misted on the air, blowing out from under my mask. It was the last week of November, and the temperature took a bite out of each and every underdressed man.

The little hand-pulled wagon left small wheel tracks in the snow as it rattled on, the crunch of snow beneath Greahd's boots determined and sure. Slowly, men and women began to pull themselves from their surroundings. One grizzled old man hauled himself up from where he'd been curled in the fetal position, shivering all the while. I spotted another woman stumbling in the snow, struggling to keep up with the slow-moving wagon.

A young boy, who I could see was missing a few fingers, clung to the woman's thin skirt. He was skin and bones, and I felt my throat constrict at the sight.

"These have been your first times in the slums, haven't they?" A voice asked from behind me.

"Is it that obvious?" I replied, wanting to look away from the young boy, but unable to pry my gaze away.

"You stare at them," Naereni answered, moving up beside me. Wade was a step behind, rubbing his arms against the cold. "That makes it obvious." She paused. "That kid down there had frostbite a few years ago. You can tell when they lose fingers when they're young. The hand grows weirdly."

"Why is it like this here?" I asked. "I get that some people are destitute. I know not all people are born into wealthy households, but there must be thousands of people in East Fiachra. It's as large as West Fiachra!" How could the city be so blind to this suffering ?

"They're not mages, so they're left to rot," Wade answered with an agitated huff. "The Bloods ignore them, leaving them all here to wallow in their own filth. That's why they have a wall between here and North Fiachra."

I still couldn't understand it. I had grown up my entire life on the outskirts of this epidemic of poverty, and I hadn't even noticed? I asked another question. "But there must be jobs for these people," I said. "There are roads to build, artifacts to maintain, and even manual labor to carry out. I haven't seen any of these people outside this part of East Fiachra."

Wade turned a critical eye toward me. "For every one mage, there are four unadorned," he started, a bite in his words. "But when one mage can do the work of four people on his own? Ten? Twenty? Why hire a lowly unblooded unad? Mages get the jobs on principle, leaving these people to carve out a living alone." The last part of his statement was said with subtle anger. "And there's no point leaving the slums. At most stores in Fiachra, you need to prove you're a mage to buy anything. Even food."

My mind flashed back to when I bought my dagger, when the attendant had had me filter mana into her artifact to unlock the display case. And then again when I was checking out a book at the West Fiachra library, where I had to imbue the crystal with mana to create my library card.

Ultimately, I didn't want to accept that such horrible living conditions were right next door.

I watched as the boy with missing fingers tripped in the snow, tumbling into it in a puff of white. His mother hastily pulled him out, brushing his limbs free of white powder frantically.

"I'm sorry for biting your head off," Wade said as the silence lingered. "I– my family still lives here. I got out when I got my mark, but my sister and my mother? They're still here, toiling through it all."

I thought of what to say. "I'm sorry," I eventually said, knowing it wasn't enough. I thought of Norgan in the place of that young frostbitten child. "I cared for my brother, too. I wouldn't have wanted him here, especially away from me."

Wade kicked at the snow in front of him, causing a puff of white to spray in the air. "They're doing better, now that I'm able to provide a bit for them. But the streets are still dangerous for anyone who can't defend themselves, especially unadorned women. That's why I joined the Rats. I'm making East Fiachra safer, bit by bit."

"A nobler goal than mine," I acknowledged. My quest was fueled by righteous vengeance, but it was revenge at its core. Not nearly as pure as the simple desire to protect those you loved.

Naereni scoffed. "The Joans have what you're bringing them coming," she affirmed, fixing her dark cloak in place. "They're half the reason it's so bad down here. Getting hooked on blithe breaks you inside." She shivered, and not from the cold.

The silence continued for a second longer before the Young Rat broke it. "Come on, you two. You've gotta stop moping about." She peered at Greahd, who had reached the edge of the canal and was slowly setting up for the community cookfire. "I've got an idea that'll cheer you both up."

"What would that be?" I asked, a bit curious.

She smirked under her mask, pointing to where a thin man was hauling firewood over to the pots. "Don't you think that'd be fun? I think we could help."

Wade wiped the fog away from his glasses with his cloak, then leaned forward, trying to get a better view. "I'm not sure hauling logs would be fun," he muttered.

Naereni swatted him. "I meant joining in on the festivities. After we help them set up, of course!"

I frowned. "I can't go down there in the open. The Joans put a kill order out on me, remember? All their lackeys want to stick a knife in my belly."

Naereni hesitated, but it was surprisingly Wade who piped up. "Just for a little bit, then? If you're in and out before anyone can report you, you'd be fine. Just for one night?"

I wavered, thinking up reasons I couldn't go down there. "If somebody recognizes me there, won't it draw attention to Greahd? Hurt her somehow?"

"All those people down there showed up randomly for the food," Naereni countered. "Why would they guess that you're directly associated with that woman?"

Well, I was directly associated with Greahd, but Naereni had a point that the automatic assumption of any spies wouldn't be that I helped set this little cookfire up, but that I was getting free food.

I couldn't think of any more arguments off the top of my head, and Naereni knew it. She smiled, then pulled off her mask. She withdrew her cloak and mask into her dimension ring, then pulled out a few thicker, more worn coats.

She tossed one to me, which I caught in surprise. It was brown and patchy, with a few tears across the ends, but was in one piece. The smell, however, caught me off guard.

"You've gotta fit in with the pack," Naereni chirped, tossing the other coat to Wade, who barely caught it. "So now you have to dress like a hobo."

I sighed.

I was watching Greahd from a rooftop, my Rat's mask on and my hood up. I had taken it upon myself to deliver the woman a few loaves of bread using money out of my pocket. She slowly pulled her wagon out into the street, laden with pots and food.

It had snowed again yesterday, blanketing the world in a coat of white. My breath misted on the air, blowing out from under my mask. It was the last week of November, and the temperature took a bite out of each and every underdressed man.

The little hand-pulled wagon left small wheel tracks in the snow as it rattled on, the crunch of snow beneath Greahd's boots determined and sure. Slowly, men and women began to pull themselves from their surroundings. One grizzled old man hauled himself up from where he'd been curled in the fetal position, shivering all the while. I spotted another woman stumbling in the snow, struggling to keep up with the slow-moving wagon.

A young boy, who I could see was missing a few fingers, clung to the woman's thin skirt. He was skin and bones, and I felt my throat constrict at the sight.

"These have been your first times in the slums, haven't they?" A voice asked from behind me.

"Is it that obvious?" I replied, wanting to look away from the young boy, but unable to pry my gaze away.

"You stare at them," Naereni answered, moving up beside me. Wade was a step behind, rubbing his arms against the cold. "That makes it obvious." She paused. "That kid down there had frostbite a few years ago. You can tell when they lose fingers when they're young. The hand grows weirdly."

"Why is it like this here?" I asked. "I get that some people are destitute. I know not all people are born into wealthy households, but there must be thousands of people in East Fiachra. It's as large as West Fiachra!" How could the city be so blind to this suffering ?

"They're not mages, so they're left to rot," Wade answered with an agitated huff. "The Bloods ignore them, leaving them all here to wallow in their own filth. That's why they have a wall between here and North Fiachra."

I still couldn't understand it. I had grown up my entire life on the outskirts of this epidemic of poverty, and I hadn't even noticed? I asked another question. "But there must be jobs for these people," I said. "There are roads to build, artifacts to maintain, and even manual labor to carry out. I haven't seen any of these people outside this part of East Fiachra."

Wade turned a critical eye toward me. "For every one mage, there are four unadorned," he started, a bite in his words. "But when one mage can do the work of four people on his own? Ten? Twenty? Why hire a lowly unblooded unad? Mages get the jobs on principle, leaving these people to carve out a living alone." The last part of his statement was said with subtle anger. "And there's no point leaving the slums. At most stores in Fiachra, you need to prove you're a mage to buy anything. Even food."

My mind flashed back to when I bought my dagger, when the attendant had had me filter mana into her artifact to unlock the display case. And then again when I was checking out a book at the West Fiachra library, where I had to imbue the crystal with mana to create my library card.

Ultimately, I didn't want to accept that such horrible living conditions were right next door.

I watched as the boy with missing fingers tripped in the snow, tumbling into it in a puff of white. His mother hastily pulled him out, brushing his limbs free of white powder frantically.

"I'm sorry for biting your head off," Wade said as the silence lingered. "I– my family still lives here. I got out when I got my mark, but my sister and my mother? They're still here, toiling through it all."

I thought of what to say. "I'm sorry," I eventually said, knowing it wasn't enough. I thought of Norgan in the place of that young frostbitten child. "I cared for my brother, too. I wouldn't have wanted him here, especially away from me."

Wade kicked at the snow in front of him, causing a puff of white to spray in the air. "They're doing better, now that I'm able to provide a bit for them. But the streets are still dangerous for anyone who can't defend themselves, especially unadorned women. That's why I joined the Rats. I'm making East Fiachra safer, bit by bit."

"A nobler goal than mine," I acknowledged. My quest was fueled by righteous vengeance, but it was revenge at its core. Not nearly as pure as the simple desire to protect those you loved.

Naereni scoffed. "The Joans have what you're bringing them coming," she affirmed, fixing her dark cloak in place. "They're half the reason it's so bad down here. Getting hooked on blithe breaks you inside." She shivered, and not from the cold.

The silence continued for a second longer before the Young Rat broke it. "Come on, you two. You've gotta stop moping about." She peered at Greahd, who had reached the edge of the canal and was slowly setting up for the community cookfire. "I've got an idea that'll cheer you both up."

"What would that be?" I asked, a bit curious.

She smirked under her mask, pointing to where a thin man was hauling firewood over to the pots. "Don't you think that'd be fun? I think we could help."

Wade wiped the fog away from his glasses with his cloak, then leaned forward, trying to get a better view. "I'm not sure hauling logs would be fun," he muttered.

Naereni swatted him. "I meant joining in on the festivities. After we help them set up, of course!"

I frowned. "I can't go down there in the open. The Joans put a kill order out on me, remember? All their lackeys want to stick a knife in my belly."

Naereni hesitated, but it was surprisingly Wade who piped up. "Just for a little bit, then? If you're in and out before anyone can report you, you'd be fine. Just for one night?"

I wavered, thinking up reasons I couldn't go down there. "If somebody recognizes me there, won't it draw attention to Greahd? Hurt her somehow?"

"All those people down there showed up randomly for the food," Naereni countered. "Why would they guess that you're directly associated with that woman?"

Well, I was directly associated with Greahd, but Naereni had a point that the automatic assumption of any spies wouldn't be that I helped set this little cookfire up, but that I was getting free food.

I couldn't think of any more arguments off the top of my head, and Naereni knew it. She smiled, then pulled off her mask. She withdrew her cloak and mask into her dimension ring, then pulled out a few thicker, more worn coats.

She tossed one to me, which I caught in surprise. It was brown and patchy, with a few tears across the ends, but was in one piece. The smell, however, caught me off guard.

"You've gotta fit in with the pack," Naereni chirped, tossing the other coat to Wade, who barely caught it. "So now you have to dress like a hobo."

I sighed.