Chapter 9:Whales
A thud shook the table as Greta dropped a tall pile of books on it. Sister Reilly was the first to look up.
"Starting already?" she sounded surprised. Sister Hope also looked up, her eyes widening at the size of the stack.
"I was actually supposed to start last week," Greta admitted. "But you know that day went."
Eileen groaned, placing her face in her book. "Nothing like a surprise visit from our White Cliff Brothers to put necessary research to a halt."
"At least we were all approved long before the whole Delilah fiasco," said Bernice as she tied a tiny knot on a string.
"Thank the Strictures for that!" Greta agreed, pulling a book off the top of the pile. It was simply titled Bonecharms- a Brief History.
It had long been Greta's path to succeed Sister Mary in the chapel's research of the occult and maintenance of the collection. One Sister at a time could head the collection with a support group of five Sisters- one mentor and four peers. The Mentor would then retire to maintaining the banned and heretical collection, and would offer valuable input on the whether or not to ban recently published works. Sister Mary was certainly looking forward to reading all the scandalous literature she could get her hands on.
"What are you working on today Hope?" Sister Reilly asked, her book on regional botany of North Gristol propped open on a stand as she knitted.
"The old way of making bullets that does not use whale oil," Hope replied, her pen scratching the paper as she wrote. "There's this chemical mix of sulfur, charcoal, and saltpeter that works just as well as the oil, if you tweak the bullet and gun designs a little. It's easy and cheap to make, and should free up the oil for use in more important things. Right now I am drafting a proposal to be brought before the Academy."
"I take it you agree with the rationing," Bernice said dryly.
"Yep," Hope popped the "p", and continued writing.
"If nothing else, it is a good intellectual challenge," added Eileen. "And logically, it is foolish to think that this practice is sustainable. With trees we are at least able to plant new ones when we cut the old down. It is much harder to do the same with whales."
Greta hummed in agreement, then finally tuned out her Sisters to focus on the tall stack. As she flipped open her notebook, she felt a chill move down her spine, followed by a whiff of ambergris. She ignored it. There were far more important things to do today.
The Outsider wandered around the chapel library, trailing his fingertips across the spines of books. It was truly a stunning collection, with a logical system of numbers for each subject and each book lovingly arranged by author on the shelves. There were tomes on all manner of subjects, including an entire section devoted to fictional work. He was honestly taken aback by the collection of occult works, notably how large it was. There was shelf after shelf of books and boxes, hidden behind Walls of Light. He got as close as he dared, feeling the hairs on the back of his neck stand up as he peered at them. Much to his surprise, there was a small series of boxes labeled "Delilah".
"The Sisters wasted no time collecting did they?" he thought, somewhat amused. "I wonder if they have her notes on rune harmony, or her audiograph describing her plan?"
In the corner of his eye he saw Greta, seated at a table with four other Sisters. He drifted over, and peered over her shoulder. She was writing feverishly, constantly questioning the author. He looked at the text, and stifled a laugh. Edric Coffinhaven was an overeager man who was a famous seller of bonecharms back when White Cliff was a witch's haven. This book was little more than a marketing device for his wares.
"Perhaps I can ask Greta about the Delilah collection," he thought, before drifting over to see what the other Sisters were doing.
A tiny round sister with curly brown hair had abandoned her book, open wide to a page about slaughtering a whale. She was engaged in a vibrant back and forth with a short-haired blind Sister, waving her arms energetically. He took a step back, careful to not get hit.
That open page intrigued him. The closest the Outsider had been to the process of slaughtering a whale was when Daud infiltrated Rothwild's Slaughterhouse for information on Delilah. And to be perfectly honest, he was barely paying attention. Corvo was far more interesting at the time.
Perhaps he should pay Slaughterhouse Row a visit.
Emily rubbed her temples, trying to stave off the looming headache. Parliament fortunately has been very cooperative in the rebuilding efforts so far, recruiting new members for the City Watch and managing them more efficiently. Rebuilding her cabinet has been much more difficult. Yul Khulan was an irreplaceable ally, and someone she sorely missed. The Overseers were still in the process of mourning and burial, something that would take months to complete. So far Greta was filling that space imperfectly, but Emily so liked having her around that she was considering finding a way to keep her on permanently. Corvo and she both agreed that he could not fill both the position of Royal Protector and Spymaster, so there was yet another position she needed to fill. She had a particular candidate in mind, however it would be some time before she got her answer.
Then there was this report from the city watch concerning the Slaughterhouses.
"You are looking tired Empress."
Emily looked up. The Outsider was standing before her, hands resting wide on the table.
"How good of you to arrive," she said dryly. "I was hoping that you could join me for dinner."
He tilted his head, seeming to consider it. "How could I refuse?" A playful expression appeared on his face.
Emily gestured to the chair across from her. "Have a seat then. Our meal should be brought up shortly."
Not a moment later did the door to her quarters open, and a maid arrived carrying two covered platters balanced atop her hands.
With great skill the young woman deposited the two platters on the table before them, not seeming to take any notice of the Outsider. She reached out and uncovered each plate at the same time.
"Roasted quail with assorted greens and baked potatoes," she announced with excessive hauteur. "There is a fine bottle of red wine already here, enjoy."
She turned on her heel and walked out. Emily placed her napkin on her lap and took the silverware off the platter. The Outsider picked up a baked potato with his hands and bit into it like it was an apple. Emily tried not to stare.
"I received a rather interesting report from the City Watch today," she started lightly, cutting into the quail.
The Outsider hummed, but appeared to be far more interested in the food than her words. He finished off the potato in two large bites, which Emily might have found impressive if it was not so revolting. She endeavored to ignore the unfolding disaster of table manners that would give her old governess an aneurysm, and continued.
"They told me that a slaughterhouse was in the process of receiving a whale, when suddenly it ceased to be there. They also told me that many of the tools stopped working, particularly in the oil extraction room."
The Outsider hummed again as he tore the quail in two and pulled the legs off. Emily watched in disgust as he wrapped the cooked greens around the drumstick and proceeded to shove the whole thing in his mouth. At least he chewed quietly. She sighed through her nose.
"Could you help me by explaining how that happened?" she pressed.
He held up a finger, shiny with grease, as he ate the other drumstick.
"I might as well continue to eat my dinner while I still have an appetite," she thought with a groan. They spent the next ten minutes eating in silence, while the Outsider devoured everything on his plate with great speed. Emily wondered if he would get indigestion due to eating so quickly. After he licked his fingers clean, he wiped his chin with the back of his hand. Emily could not stand it anymore.
"Have you never seen a napkin before?" she asked, exasperated.
The Outsider blinked and for the first time Emily had met him he seemed to be truly confused.
"It might be time for a brief etiquette lesson so I can preserve my sanity," Emily thought. She removed her napkin from her lap and held it up. "This is a napkin. You use it to clean your hands and your face when dirty. You put it on your lap when you first sit down."
Next she held up her fork and knife. "This is silverware. The knife is used for cutting food into smaller pieces and held in the dominant hand. The fork is used to pick up those pieces and bring them to the mouth."
She looked at him expectantly. The Outsider oh so slowly flushed, his pale face turning bright red. He averted his eyes, and a thought occurred to Emily.
"You do not know any better," she almost whispered, surprised.
"How would I?" he sneered. "Before I became what I am I was a beggar. This is the most food I have ever eaten in one sitting."
There was silence. Emily did not know what to say. She certainly felt badly for embarrassing him. And it was silly of her to assume he would pay attention to something as small as table manners, especially when he had no need to eat until now and ate alone.
"I'm sorry…" she trailed off, unsure how to best apologize.
"Concerning the slaughterhouse," his voice was cold. "I originally intended just to look. That was a mistake on my part."
Emily blinked, taken aback.
"This might come as a shock to you, but I do not enjoy watching suffering. Within these past two weeks my tolerance for being a bystander has lessened, and I do not like it. It was so much easier to be above it all when I could not feel."
The last word came out through gritted teeth, and his fists were clenched tight. Emily reached across the table, and touched his hand. The Outsider looked up at her, a flicker of surprise briefly crossing his face.
"I'm here to listen, if that is what you need," she offered.
He swallowed, and Emily noted how vulnerable he looked in that moment before it was covered up with a blank mask.
"Whales are special Empress," the Outsider said quietly. "They can swim in the Void as well as the world mortal. I have often been visited by the same ones for many years, and even seen them in death. The one I saw today knew me. Her songs have often brought me comfort. I could not leave her to be tortured for hours, even days before she is allowed to die."
Emily looked down at her hand, which was covering his loosely clenched fist. She looked up again, and gazed into those black eyes.
"I am sorry this happened to her. If there is a way to avoid needless suffering, I would like to know it. As things now stand, we are too reliant on whale oil for me to allow you to sabotage slaughterhouses."
A mirthless chuckle came from his mouth. "I tried to pull her into the Void, forgetting that could not get there myself. The only thing that worked was branding my mark into her brow and sending her out to sea."
"You Marked a whale?" Emily asked, trying to keep the laugh from her voice.
"I cannot mark animals, I can only channel my power through them," he replied loftily.
Emily thought about her Far Reach, and using that to catapult a whale to open waters. The very thought made her snort with laughter.
"Not quite like that," there was a smile on his face. "But the same idea."
Emily smiled back at him. "If it helps any, I am sure most whalers will think twice attacking a whale with your mark."
The Outsider laughed, a glimmer of delight dancing across his black eyes. "For the very first time some good has come out of my worship. Very well, Empress; I promise you that I will not sabotage the slaughterhouses again."
A part of Emily had the feeling that she had given the Outsider an idea where the fallout would be terrible to deal with, but he looked so pleased that she could not bring herself to care.
She stood and offered him a good night. He took the dismissal with a short bow and a slight smile, and vanished. As she cleaned up the platters, she realized that once she rested her hand atop his, he never pulled away.