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At the brisk rap on her office door, Style shouted “What?!”
Jasmine slipped inside and pulled the door shut behind her. “Sorry to interrupt your evening paperwork, but from what I hear this is basically the only time you use this room.”
Style snorted and shoved a sheet of parchment to the side of her small desk. “Well, you got that right. Goddamn pen-jockeying. Interrupting this bullshit is a quick way back into my good graces. What do you need?”
“Well, this may seem a little awkward,” Jasmine said, touching the side of her face, “but I need you to punch me. I, uh, suppose you don’t hear that one very often.”
“You might be surprised,” the enforcer grunted. “Mostly from former bedmates asking for kinky shit that does not do it for me. I’m assuming that’s not what this is about.”
Jasmine grimaced, a faint blush darkening her cheeks. “Uh, no. It’s just, I had to use divine magic a little bit ago, and in that quantity it tends to naturally heal things. Mesmer said the bruises were supposed to stay as some kind of object lesson…”
“Fucking Mesmer.” Style rolled her eyes. “There’s a reason he’s neither an enforcer nor in charge. Sure, fine, in certain very rare circumstances, I can see making someone keep a minor injury as a disciplinary measure, but usually anybody who’s causing that much trouble would be booted out of here anyway. No, Jasmine, I don’t find it serves any practical purpose to have people walking around all gimped up. I thought you still had a bashed face because you were too stubborn to have him fix it. Nah, you’re fine.”
“Really.” Jasmine frowned, then shrugged, reaching for the door handle. “All right, then. Frankly, after that scene tonight I thought it made perfect sense. Well, not sense, but it was consistent with the picture I was starting to see of this place.”
“Cos you didn’t think about what you were seeing,” Style retorted.
“Well, it’s pretty clear you keep control through brute force.”
“And that is exactly what I’m talking about,” Style stated flatly, pointing at her with a pen. She then stared at the utensil as if surprised to find herself holding it, and dropped it onto the desk before continuing. “Nobody keeps control through brute force; that’s not how brute force works. Fear is always better than force; respect is better than fear. You have to use a careful combination of all three; they have an interesting interrelationship. You’re new, you’ll learn more about it. But no, Jasmine, I don’t go around punching everybody who needs to be put in line. Or even most of them.”
“Oh?” Jasmine kept one hand on the door handle, but so far made no move to turn it.
“A good enforcer can’t afford to be a one-trick pony. It’s all about the situation, and the people involved. There’s no magic formula that works all the time. All right, let’s consider you and your little group of friends, they’ll make a passable case in point. Now Tallie and Darius I will smack when they need correcting—and occasionally more than smack, if they start doing horseshit like assaulting full Guild members. Those two are talkers; engaging them verbally is just asking for more hijinks and throwing away the opportunity to teach a lesson. What they need when they’re screwing up is a reminder that their bullshit can have the kind of consequences that no silver tongue can escape from. Hopefully, after no more than a couple more repetitions, the lesson will start sinking in and they’ll toe the line without needing more reminders. If they don’t have that much basic innate intelligence, they’ve got no place here. Rasha…” She paused and shook her head. “I’m a little worried about that kid. Fragile people don’t do well in this place. But some of our best have started out that way. He’s one who needs encouragement more than correction. Plus, he’s a listener and a thinker, so explaining what he does wrong will do a lot more than belaboring the point. Likewise Ross, without the fragility.”
“But you’re comfortable smacking me around to make a point,” Jasmine said, finally taking her hand off the door and folding her arms.
“In point of fact, no.” Style mimicked the posture, leaning back in her chair. “That dust-up tonight wasn’t about discipline, it was about you directly and publicly attacking my authority. No, Jasmine, you’re not afraid of pain, and even if you were, you’re not motivated by fear. Roughing up brave people is counterproductive; it makes ’em feel all righteous, when an enforcer’s job is to make someone understand that challenging us is a mistake. Believe me, the Guild hasn’t prospered for thousands of years without knowing how to deal with Avenists. So no, Jasmine, if you will just refrain from creating scenarios where I have to fucking land on you, I’ll look forward to never again laying so much as a fingertip on your dainty little derriere.”
“Hm.” Jasmine frowned, but offered no challenge to her reasoning.
“Moving on,” said Style, “wanna tell me why you were throwing around so much magic you accidentally healed yourself?”
“Oh.” Jasmine sighed. “Well, the truth is, I was pummeling and then threatening Grip. I guess that probably changes your stance on the subject of punching me, huh.”
“There you go, making assumptions again,” Style snorted. “Rumor is an intel woman whose default state is barely sober enough to stand; there’s no good reason for any Guild member to be taking swings at her, least of all an apprentice. Grip is another matter. I know yours is an unusual situation, and I fucking damn well know what she’s like. Without specifics, I could believe either of you being at fault there. I’m still in suspense, by the way.”
“Well, Grip wanted me to be her apprentice.”
“And this led somehow to you going full paladin on her ass. You got a real way with people, kid.”
Jasmine scowled at her and snorted, but continued. “She was blackmailing me. Grip figured out who I am and said she would spill the story if I didn’t agree to be her apprentice. I’ve been trying to figure out what to do about her for a few days; I settled for…brute force. It seemed like that was something she would understand, at least.”
“Hn,” Style grunted. “That’s some roundabout reasoning, even for her. Grip likes her plans complex, but… Well, watch yourself. People who assume they’re done with Grip have a tendency to learn otherwise, usually about when they get comfortable thinking it’s over.”
“Thanks for the tip,” Jasmine said with a sigh, reaching for the door again.
“Hang on,” Style ordered. “I agree that you entering a formal relationship with Grip may not be the best idea, but she is someone you, in particular, could stand to learn from. I’ve been meaning to discuss this with you, anyway. So far, Jasmine, you’ve been showing all the markings of a really talented enforcer in training. I mean, aside from your general social obtuseness, but that we can fix over the course of an apprenticeship. The major exception I see is this tendency you have to play the hero.”
“Well—”
“The thing about enforcers,” Style barreled on, “is that how much damage one is able to inflict ends up being less important than how threatening one seems. In your case, the very thing that made you interesting to Glory is a handicap. You’re so…well-behaved. Now, if you were a beefy dude like Ross, that would be absolutely ideal. Big scary guys who speak softly and mind their manners are exactly the right kind of intimidating; they can go places that shady thugs aren’t welcome, and don’t lose any of their looming menace factor in the process. You, though, are a pretty little blond slip of a girl—like Grip. And while Grip is a terrifying piece of work, you are not. Difference is, she has worked hard to become one.” She leveled a finger at Jasmine. “That is the distinction. Refrain from going off on a feminist rant about this, but the fact is, in the enforcer business, an attractive woman has to be three times as scary as a male counterpart to be taken as seriously. That’s just the way people perceive others. That means you have to build an aspect and a reputation to back up your threats, unless you want to have to break every goddamn kneecap you encounter. If you intend to keep going on the path you’ve apparently chosen, you’re going to have to either develop a cruel streak, or very convincingly pretend you have one.”
“That isn’t the path I chose!” Jasmine burst out. “That’s the entire point of me being here! I do not need the Guild’s help to learn how to fight or threaten people. I’m trying to be subtler.”
“Well, you’re doing a shitty job,” Style said bluntly. “You wanna be a con artist? Fine, do that. But do it; find someone who’ll coach you and start showing progress—fast. You haven’t done anything in that direction that I’m aware of beyond some cursory practice in picking locks and pockets. Right now you’re between the approach you claim to want and haven’t even looked at, and the one you’re actually good at and are afraid to pursue. Your trainers and I can help you build skills in either direction—or hell, both. But we’re not gonna choose for you, wouldn’t even if we could. Dithering is not acceptable.”
“Well, but.” Jasmine heaved an irritated sigh. “It’s not as if I’m a typical apprentice, right? My purpose here isn’t exactly to aim for full membership—”
“Then you can fuck off out of my Guild,” Style snapped. “I was extremely clear with you up front. No special treatment. You’re an apprentice exactly like all the rest. Your purpose is to work toward becoming a productive and valuable member of this Guild, or you can get yourself the hell out of it; we’re not providing room and board for every directionless teenager in Tiraas, here. I do not accept excuses or half-measures. You’re not on notice, kid; like I said, you show real promise as an enforcer. But I will be watching you, and unless you start really pursuing that potential, or other potential, you will be warned. From there it’s a short slide to the door hitting your ass on the way out. This isn’t a fucking summer camp.”
“I see,” Jasmine said quietly. “Then that’s…something to think about.”
“Yeah,” Style agreed, staring flatly at her. “Go to bed, Jasmine. Plenty of exciting new ways for you to fuck up tomorrow, but right now I think we’ve all had about enough.”
“Good evening, your Grace!” Principia said with exuberant good cheer. “What a surprise to find you working here so late. The candle burns at both ends, eh?”
“Locke,” Syrinx replied evenly after pausing a moment outside her office to study the Legionnaire. “And of course, you have no business in this part of the temple at this or any hour. Spit it out, I’ve even less patience for your idiocy than I have time for it.”
“So hostile,” Principia said brightly, falling into step beside the Bishop as she strode away down the hall. It was an upper level of the Temple, containing little but administrative offices, and at this hour was practically deserted; even the fairly lamps were dimmed. No one else appeared to be in the vicinity. “Very well, to the point. Those disruptors originated in Veilgrad, and turned up here in the hands of the Thieves’ Guild. It’s very likely they passed through the possession of the Guild underboss there, an Imperial Army corporal named Timms. Her tag is Smiler, if that helps. I can’t leave the city except on specific business so I can’t exactly go ask her; I think this dovetails more with your end of the investigation, anyway.
“Now, if Bishop Darling is playing coy about these things, it’s possible he doesn’t know anything and is trying to save face, but otherwise… The downside of his genius for cultivating contacts everywhere in Tiraas is that it leaves a lot of openings to track who he’s been talking to, and about what. What you need are access points, and luckily, there are some who are both links in his network and somewhat inherently friendly to Avenists.” She held up a small envelope, smiling slyly. “Those, I can direct you to. It would be personally awkward for me to be chasing the Bishop around that way, but if you’re caught doing it, I assume that will just be business as usual within the Church.”
Basra came to a stop, turning to face her and resting one hand casually on the hilt of her sword. She glanced fleetingly at the envelope, but made no move to reach for it. “What are you doing, Locke?”
“Helping you,” Principia said sweetly. “As is no more and no less than my duty.”
“Right. So I’m to go threaten this Smiler person with exposure to gain her compliance, is that what you want?”
“Oh, I should be so lucky,” Principia said with a grin. “I know very well you’re too intelligent to threaten a Guild underboss, though. No, your specific approach is up to you, and the less I know of it, the better, but you’re a resourceful woman. I’m sure you’ll do just fine.”
“I don’t suppose you plan to be so accommodating as to tell me the catch.”
“The catch is that you’ll actually be holding up your end of this job, and thus keeping yourself around and in the High Commander’s good graces. If I thought failing to turn up anything useful would get your butt booted back to Viridill, matters would be very different.” Principia shrugged. “But, it is what it is. All things being equal, I think this better serves me in the long run, even if it does result in continuing to have to put up with you.”
“You’ve developed an interesting way of addressing your superiors, Sergeant,” Basra said, though her tone remained calm and mildly inquisitive.
“Oh, certainly, go tell Rouvad I was mean to you.” Principia grinned. “I think you’re forgetting that the last time we shared this temple was before I proved myself valuable and you proved yourself crazy. Look, we can play nicely in front of the bronze, but we both know that you’re a sadistic monster and I’m a rebellious pain in the ass, and after that little business of you trying to murder my whole squad, prospects of us actually getting along are pretty much nil. But I’ve worked with people I hated a lot more than you. I see no reason we can’t work something out, here.”
“This is very slightly entertaining, but unless a reason emerges when I should bother myself with this and with you, Locke, I have much better things to do.”
“You know the reason very well.” The insouciant smile faded from Principia’s face. “In fact, you just hit it exactly. You and I have much better things to do than feud. When it comes down to it, we aren’t really in competition. Our objectives are similar, yes, but at the end of the day, I’m rank-and-file with an acknowledged knack for moving among unscrupulous types, while you are a political presence in this city’s halls of power. Neither of us could function in one another’s wheelhouse. The removal of one or the other would just be a lost asset for the Sisterhood, and us butting heads is likewise.”
“Ah, yes,” Syrinx drawled, lifting an eyebrow. “Here comes your vaunted commitment to the greater good.”
“I’m committed to my own best interests, exactly the same as you,” Principia retorted bluntly. “The difference is I’m at least capable of valuing other things, as well. I have goals and a career here, and dealing with your scheming on top of the rest of it is a headache I can do without. Do you need to find out how good I am at scheming before you realize how mutual our relationship is?”
“Our relationship, huh,” Basra said sardonically, brushing off the implied threat. “I see no reason to believe you are either a threat or a use to me.”
“Don’t you?” The smile which crept across Locke’s face was distinctly catlike. “Well, after all, we’ve gone head-to-head once already. You had the element of surprise and vastly superior positioning, and I still whipped you. Do you really wanna try it again without those advantages, Basra?”
They stared at each other, Principia with that sly smile, Basra without expression.
“Well,” the Bishop said at last, “Timms, was it? Also known as Smiler? I suppose I should be so lucky as to hope you’d do anything so rashly aggressive as try to trip me into a trap.”
“I shall take that as an acknowledgment of my base point,” Principia said, her face instantly shifting back to an innocently cheerful look. “Then I shall bid you good evening, your Grace, and I’m sure we’ll have a more fruitful discussion when you’ve seen the utility of my help. Don’t forget your notes!” Again, she proffered the envelope.
“No.”
Principia raised her eyebrows. “No? No, what?”
“You’re a long way from earning my trust, Locke,” Basra said coldly. “And however you may choose to dress it up, in the end, that’s what you’re trying to do. Making yourself minimally useful according to your assigned duties isn’t going to cut it. I’ll tell you what. I will follow up on this lead, and if you have the basic self-control not to try to screw me over… We’ll talk further. About this job, and perhaps about what I can do for you beyond the bounds of your duties. And what I’ll expect you to do for me in exchange.”
She smirked faintly, then turned on her heel and strode off down the hall.
Principia stood behind her, watching her go with the slightly puzzled expression she had adopted during Basra’s last few sentences. Only when the Bishop was around the corner did she permit herself a faint half-smile, and tucked the envelope back into her belt pouch.
“Dunno, I was asleep before he came back,” Darius said absently, focusing on his breakfast.
“I don’t think the did come back,” Tallie said with a worried frown, pushing scrambled eggs around her plate. “I poked my head on on his bunk and it didn’t look slept in.”
“Rasha’s very neat about his space,” Jasmine offered. “My best friend back home is like that; she’s Punaji, too. Something about being on ships…”
“Yeah, but he’s not an early riser.” Tallie heaved a sigh, frowning deeply. “I don’t know, guys. Where could he have gone?”
“He’s in the Guild,” said Ross. “Nobody’d hurt him here.”
“But what if he left?”
“Why would he leave?” Darius demanded in exasperation. “It was the middle of the night and psycho dwarves are after us. Rasha wouldn’t have gone outside.”
“Don’t you care at all?” Tallie demanded, turning on him.
“Course I care,” he said with a shrug that belied his claim, scooping up another forkful of fried potatoes. “But I’m not ready to agree he’s in some kind of trouble. C’mon, you know Rasha, he’s got big thoughts for such a little guy. Always retreating into himself and staring moodily around. Yesterday was stressful for us all. Trust me, I’ve known people like him before. He’s not dumb enough to go out there and risk his safety. Probably just off somewhere thinking. He’ll come out when he feels like it. Like a cat.”
“He’s gonna miss breakfast,” Tallie muttered.
“We won’t let him starve,” Jasmine assured her, then turned to Darius with a frown. “Anyway, a little more concern would be appropriate. Just because he didn’t leave the Guild doesn’t mean this place is safe.”
“Nobody’s going to hurt apprentices here,” he scoffed.
“I am basically positive that’s not true,” she retorted. “Accredited thieves would probably not risk censure by being caught harming an apprentice. But let’s face it, these aren’t nice people. So far I’d say about half the ones I’ve met are good people, and most are only kind when they want something. If Rasha went off into some private corner around here…” She shook her head. “I don’t know. Something could have happened.”
Tallie slapped a palm on the table hard enough to make her silverware jump. “Damn it. I should’ve…”
“What?” Darius asked pointedly. “Tallie… I love that you care so much, but you’re not his mom. We can’t follow each other everywhere, and with all respect, Jas, I don’t think it’s wise to start assuming we’re in danger within the Guild itself. We need a safe haven, or we’ll all end up paranoid and crazy, and they really do protect apprentices here. C’mon, Ironeye could’ve probably disappeared us all good and proper, but she didn’t. Seriously, guys, I’m sure Rasha’s fine. If he hasn’t turned up by, say, dinner, then we should start to worry.”
“You afraid of the dark?” Ross asked.
Darius stared at him, blinking, then heaved a sigh and slowly set down his fork. “All right, what the fuck are you on about now?”
“Just that fear of the dark isn’t rational,” Ross said. “So rational arguments against it don’t work. It’s primal. Fear of the unknown, of what might be in the dark. Knowing there’s nothing out there does nothing for you. ‘swhy everyone has trouble sleeping after hearing a scary story.”
“Ross,” Tallie exclaimed. “We’re talking about Rasha!”
“Yeah, and something tells me we still are,” Darius said dryly. “This is one of those Vesker metaphors. They always draw ’em out more than is necessary.”
“Not wrong about that,” Ross agreed with a shrug. “Point is, our friend is missing an’ apparently didn’t come to bed last night. It’s fine to be worried. It’d be weird not to be worried. Don’t argue her out of worrying. Won’t work.”
“What, so I can’t offer comfort to someone who’s upset?” Darius retorted, scowling. “I don’t see how that’s any better.”
“This is incredible,” Tallie said to Jasmine. “We’re discussing the actual problem and these two are arguing about their feelings. When did we stop being the girls in this group?”
“Oi!” Darius protested. Jasmine just rolled her eyes and had another bite of eggs.
“Good morning.”
The soft greeting was punctuated by the arrival of a stack of wooden discs on the table beside them. All four stared incredulously up at Gimmick, who gave them a serene little smile.
“These are portable divination bafflers, keyed specifically to disrupt spells of location. It may be possible for a skilled scryer to discern details about your status even with them, and they will do nothing to counter fairy magic, but so long as you each keep one on your person, you should become un-trackable via arcane scrying by a mage or enchanter of nominal skill.”
“Nominal skill,” Tallie said blankly.
“There is, as they say, always a bigger fish, but I doubt you have antagonized the sort of archmage who can remotely neutralize these enchantments.” Saduko’s smile widened. “Your problems would be far greater were it so. These are passive charms and their power consumption is minimal, but they do consume energy. The enchantment is designed to absorb excess energy from the environment to replenish itself, which is abundant in Tiraas, but if your situation has not been resolved within six weeks, they will probably need to be recharged. Any professional enchanter will do this for a small fee.”
“I know how to recharge basic enchantments,” said Jasmine, staring up at her. “Just have to buy the dust…”
“Of course you do,” Tallie said with a sigh. “Excuse me, but I don’t believe we’d accepted Mr. Vandro’s offer.”
“Quite,” Saduko said placidly. “Webs has reconsidered his position and feels he was being unnecessarily mercenary with you. You may consider these a gift, delivered with his compliments and hopes for a fruitful future relationship.”
“Okay,” Darius said with a sigh, “what’s his angle?”
“I fear I cannot help you there,” she replied, shrugging. “I am frequently baffled by Mr. Vandro’s machinations. My skill set is specific and limited, and he employed me strictly in that capacity.”
“That was never his game,” Tallie said, slumping forward and leaning her forehead into her hand. The elbow she planted on the table narrowly missed her plate. “Damn it… It’s like the Boss said, just having us seen getting help from him places us in his camp, at least in everybody’s minds. And with everybody treating us like we’re Webs’s accomplices, our options for other supporters narrow until it’s basically true. Isn’t that right?” she demanded, lifting her head to look accusingly at Saduko.
The enchantress shrugged again. “Your reasoning seems solid, though such matters are above my head. Being voluntarily and deliberately in Webs’s camp, as you call it, I have never had to think in these terms. That is for the best. I prefer to leave such convoluted planning to him.”
“Why, that sneaky son of a bitch,” Darius said, sounding more impressed than annoyed.
“Well, this is shaping up to be a great day,” Tallie muttered, reaching for the stack. “And I was just thinking we have a prospect here that didn’t involve taking Webs’s help. I mean, our new buddy Schwartz is in the same boat as the rest of us, and he’s an acolyte of the actual goddess of magic. Surely he could hook us up with some kind of deal on anti-tracking charms…”
“And that’s why Gimmick had to come along so early to hand these off,” Darius said cheerily. “So Webs can get his hooks into us before we have the chance to realize that and act on it. Clever bastard!”
“Stop sounding so happy about it!” Tallie barked.
“Tallie, hon, we’ve been outmaneuvered. And that really shouldn’t surprise anybody, since this guy’s apparently been playing the game longer than we’ve collectively been alive.”
“Not quite that long,” Saduko said with amusement.
“Yeah, well, my point is, you can’t take these things personally.”
“Oh, just watch me,” Tallie said acidly.
“What I mean,” Darius added, “is you shouldn’t take it personally. It’s a game, at least in the minds of the people who tend to win it. You gotta stay loose, keep yourself detached. It’s the only way to keep your head cool enough to compete.”
She sighed heavily. “Someday, I’m gonna insist on detailed backstories from some of you.”
Darius grinned and waggled his eyebrows at her. “Your place or mine?”
Saduko cleared her throat as Tallie reached for her fork, her glare at Darius suggesting she didn’t have eating in mind. “Those bafflers will function so long as they are on your person, but it is best as a rule to conceal them inside your clothes. If you are being tracked by a mage, and said mage gains a line of sight to them, he or she may be able to disrupt them permanently that way.”
“So noted,” Jasmine said quickly, reaching for the stack. “And…ah, good, there are five. We’ll make sure Rasha gets his. Thank you, Gimmick.”
“Ah, yes, that is the other matter,” Saduko continued. “Mr. Vandro pays well to be appraised of any interesting events transpiring in the city, and has just learned of one he felt would be relevant to you. Your friend Rasha is currently in an Imperial jail for assault.”
The Gods are Bastards 