This is the transcription of posts from ten different contestants in an offsite forum. One by one, they'll be eliminated until only the winner remains. Your vote counts! Please join us by clicking "homepage" from our user page.
start of round four.
Chapter 42. If there IS a bear...
by Nallmian
The door to Saveaux's room burst open as Nallmian and Biara hurried inside, carrying Saveaux into the room with them. Inside, the newt's water basin had apparently been refilled, since when they had discovered his absence the basin had been empty, its contents spilled all over the floor. Now the basin was upright and full again, with no sign of a spill. Apparently Jeremy hadn't thought to notify the housekeeping servants that their services would no longer be required in Saveaux's room. As Nallmian locked the door, Biara moved the still unconscious, badly injured newt to the basin, and lowered him in. She then took her healer bag and opened it, beginning to sort through for the materials she would need to bandage up the group's injuries.
Nallmian felt positively giddy with success. Sure, some of this was the mixture of traces of adrenaline and the large amount of the brown powder he had taken right before they had gone in, but the rest was the sheer exhilaration of having planned this rescue, pulled it off, gotten their teammate back, set that squirrel alight, and all in all having delivered a great big "Sod off!" to the Professor or Jeremy the squirrel or whoever had taken it upon themselves to decide that his teammate was going to die.
Teammate. It felt odd to be using that word, even if only mentally, to describe two creatures that he had only met a few days earlier, and who he would never have met if not for the deceitful trick that Falliss had played on all of them. But the fact of the matter was, they had become a team of sorts. Biara had proven far more interesting company than he could have hoped for, and the stoat was really starting to like the crafty marteness. And Saveaux…hmm. Well, something about the newt had certainly grown on Biara, who seemed fairly protective of him. By now, though, even Nallmian was starting to feel a bit protective towards the amphibian, at least to the point where the thought of him being brutally killed by Jeremy had been much more distressing than Nallmian would have anticipated.
Biara had removed Saveaux from the basin. "I wanted to put him in for just a bit, since he's been deprived of water for longer than he's used to, but now I think I'm going to get started on what the servants did to him." The marteness shook her head. "I have to say, I didn't think they had it in them. Apparently it isn't just being on the receiving end that can make them come to life like regular creatures. Lots of blunt trauma, some knife wounds, mostly of a slicing or cutting nature, amputation of a finger, and attempted strangulation. I'm going to try to patch him up as much as I can. I think he'll live, at least, but he's had a rough day, to put it mildly."
Nallmian felt a bubble of uncharacteristic anger building in him. Was it hypocritical of him? Yes it was. But that didn't matter. The stoat had never concerned himself much with universal values or philosophy. If he did it to the other side, it was acceptable. If the other side did it to him or those under his command, it was not acceptable. The world was that simple. And this particular situation was reminding him all too much of seven years ago, when he was still a common hordebeast assigned to a unit of skirmishers and trackers trying to take the fight to the Freedom's Lances….
The stoat's bruised, battered form made a small splash in the mud as the two hedgehogs tossed him unceremoniously into the shallow depression in the earth where the rest of the prisoners were being held. For a moment the mustelid just lay there, trying to force himself to move. The raindrops continued to fall into the uncovered pit, sending up tiny spatters of mud and pelting the injured mustelid. Injured as he was, he could feel the cold, grimy droplets as they fell on open wounds or patches of bare skin that had been shaved and then scorched raw. "Hey,Nallmian, Vix Nallmian, is that you?" a similarly battered weasel called out furtively from where he and two others had used sticks and cloaks to form a crude lean-to. At the sound of a familiar voice the stoat managed to force his eyes open and raise his head up. "Thak? Thak! I thought they were goin' to kill you for sure, what with how that one otter was looking at you when you managed to knife his partner." "No,they decided not to, although they didn't let me in on that for a while. They really went crazy on me, Nallmian, although it looks like you got it as bad as I did. Did they…did they use the fishhooks on you, too?" Thak asked, starting to hobble over to where Nallmian was still struggling to get up. Grateful for the assistance, Nallmian redoubled his efforts to move, and between the two of them the stoat was able to make his way to the cloak. "Yes. Fishhooks, hot iron shavings,glass…" the stoat's whole body shuddered in pain both current and recalled. "'Gates, I didn't know we could hurt this badly" the mustelid gasped out, tears welling up briefly. "What 'appened?" another vermin, a rat, had made his way over to the stoat. The rat did not wear a Red Ember uniform, and was dirtier and more unkempt, with a more rustic accent. Probably just a bandit or ruffian of some kind. "They didn't do nothin' like that to us, they just hit us and made like they was drowning us. Kept askin' questions, didn't realize we weren't with youse lot." Nallmian winced. "Stupid…they were doing that to me…and he was there…the mouse. He was part of it, you know,was helping them do it, but then, all of a sudden…he wasn't there anymore." "He left?" Thak asked. "No, his body was there, but his mind wasn;t. He just started staring ahead…and he started talking to somebody who wasn't there," the stoat winced has he moved slightly and accidentally reopened a wound that began to ooze blood again. " Saying "So what 'appened?" The nonhorde rat asked. "I laughed. 'Gates knows why, but I laughed. It was…I don't know why. But just so stupid, so ridiculous. Here we're all terrified of this mouse, we're always seeing him go around slicing us up, always hearing about how he's the deadliest thing in Lord Whitefire's realm…and he's mad, completely out of his acorn. He's got some warrior in his head that nobody else can see or here, and everybody here just believes him!" Nallmian's battered, aching body screamed in protest, but it didn't matter. He couldn't help but start laughing a little bit again, even as his eyes began to tear up from pain. "And it's like they really believe in him and his funny voices. He's like what happens when you try to tell a joke and nobody gets it and they all think it's supposed to be serious but it's not…he's a total lunatic but nobody wants to admit that because if he's crazy, then what does that make them? So I laughed. They didn't like that. They really didn't like that." Thak just shook his head. "I think you've gone a little crazy too, vix." "Vix?" the rat asked. "Wotcher callin' 'im that for." Another hordebeast, this one a rat himself, piped up. "He was the one for our group who had the herbs and bandages and patched anyone up after a fight who was injured. Every patrol has one, bigger groups have more. They try to make sure that the injured can survive long enough to get out alive and make it to the castle infirmary. We always just call them 'vix', as in "vixen", even when they're male and not foxes, which is most of them." "In this case, though, the vix has lost his tail," Nallmian said. "They took my bag, of course. We're just got to try to patch ourselves up as best we can,." the stoat shook his head. "It's funny, Thak, I don't know whether to laugh or cry. We're in this muddy pit because there's a mouse in there who hears imaginary voices and sees what isn't there. That's all he is, a mouse with voices in his head and a really good sword. That's all he is, that's all he is…"
'Yes, I know your will. It will all be as you say,'and then he started a whole conversation, chattering away like there was nobody in the room but him and whoever he was speaking to, only there wasn't anybody there. He was just staring into space babbling to his imaginary friend…and the other Lances just stood there, like this was the most ordinary thing in the world."
Nallmian was jolted out of his memory by Biara's voice. "Well, I've pretty much gotten him patched up for now. He's going to be in pain for a while, but he'll live. If I remember correctly, he may even get that finger back. I think I read somewhere that newts can regrow tails, and if they regrow tails, they can probably regrow fingers," Biara said. "Now let's have a look at you. That squirrel looked like he was hitting you pretty hard."
Nallmian sat down and opened his tunic, which itself bore marks of the fighting in the form of bloodstains and tears in the fabric. "He was. You wouldn't think a squirrel his size could punch that hard, but it was like getting whacked with a hammer or something."
Biara came over with her bandages and herbs and began treating Nallmian's injuries, which were mostly the result of blunt trauma. The stoat laughed nervously. "I just hope you're in a good mood. I've seen what you can do with the stuff in that bag when you're not." The stoat beamed, eyes wide and innocent, doing his best impression of a musteline angel. "Did I mention you're my favorite guest? And you have really nice fur and lovely eyes, and…ouch!"
Biara smirked at the stoat. "That's for making me waste perfectly good liquor. That was really good stuff, and you made me splash it all over that ruffian of a squirrel so you could grab the walltorch and set him on fire. It worked, but that was damson wine, very strong but very tasty."
"Well, we can always go down to the drinks cellar and find you another one. Falliss must be swimming in gold if he can afford to let us have all the weapons, food and beverages that we want. Although hopefully thanks to us he'll have to hire some more help," Nallmian smirked. "At the rate we're going, next time he hawks up one of those disgusting furry pellets HE is going to be the one to clean it up."
"We are going to have to be more careful. We're leaving quite a bit of a body trail," Biara said.
"I didn't hear you complaining."
"I'm not. I'm just saying we need to watch out for the woodlanders. They might not like it that most of our…encounters have involved woodlanders. In fact, all of them, except some of the ones who were with the squirrel," Biara said.
"Hmm…" Nallmian looked thoughtful. "You know, if they do say anything, we should probably have something thought up in advance. I guess we can always just say that Falliss had them killed himself to spread discord and and sow distrust and so forth. The hare will probably believe it, if for no other reason than that if he doesn't it rather sinks his theory about how we can all just get along. Lots of beasts will go along with something they're not sure of rather than admit they're totally wrong."
Biara nodded. "Sounds reasonable enough. And even if he doesn't, they don't have any proof. Desmond has his deal with us, and I doubt Saveaux will double cross us after we just risked life and limb getting him back from the servants."
At this point Biara finished treating Nallmian's injuries, and the stoat closed his tunic back up, reminding himself to go get a fresh one before they met up again with the others. "We probably ought to just stay here until morning. We need to be on the alert for a counterattack of some kind, and we'll have a better chance if we stick together," the stoat said.
"Yes, that makes sense. Although we can't hide from them forever."
"Absolutely not. We need to take the fight to Jeremy," Nallmian responded.
"Remember what the squirrel told us about how he and Agatha don't like each other and are rivals for status? Well, maybe we ought to look into pushing the two of them into active conflict. Dividing the enemy is always a good tactic. The fact that Saveaux's water basin was refilled, there were no servants patrolling the hallways guarding for us, and most of the others just went to the party rather than harassing us or helping Jeremy suggests that he kept this operation to himself and a few others. What if we tell Agatha what happened, and use it to make the case that he's handling the situation very badly, that he's distracted, and now would be her best chance to put that fluffytailed prat in his place."
"Hmm…" Biara looked thoughtful. "That's an interesting idea. Actually, the fact that we used fire to drive off the squirrel, even if it did cost me my drink, might be useful here. I've seen and treated burn victims before, and it's usually not a pretty picture. That sort of gruesomely disfiguring injury might be a real problem for Jeremy when it comes to maintaining his prestige and leadership. Nobody will be able to look at him without remember his blunder. Also, in a place as obsessed with decorum and etiquette as this one, they're not going to want a head servant who makes everyone cringe when they see him.
"You have a point. How serious are the injuries likely to be? I couldn't tell when he ran out," the stoat asked.
"Well, no way to predict for certain without seeing them, but I would imagine his injuries are pretty bad. At the very least, Desmond will have one less competitor for the affection of female squirrel servants," Biara responded.
"Wonderful. Splendid. That's just great," Nallmian deadpanned. "Between that and you giving him the herbs, I can just see it now." The stoat adopted a rather high, feminine, falsetto voice. "Deeesssmooooondd! I'm having your kit!" He switched to a decent imitation of Desmond. "Well, go have it somewhere else you melletrix!" Back to falsetto. "But Desmond, don't you care about me? W-w-was it me? D-do you not love me anymore? "Back to Desmond. "Sweetie, it's not me, it's you. A squirrel's got to have some standards, after all. Now pish posh, and go bring me a scone and some tea, you plebian tart."
Biara snorted. "I assure you that was not my intention."
"Well, it just might be the result. But off that rather unpleasant subject. One Desmond is more than enough without a bunch of little Desmonds running about looking down their noses at everybody and practicing the family sneer!" Nallmian shuddered at the thought. "I'll go ahead and take first watch tonight. We're probably safe, but be ready in case they do try to counterattack."
"Okay. I'm going to try to catch some sleep." The marteness stretched and yawned. "Rescuing the newt took a lot out of me."
"Sure. I'll wake you up about halfway through the night."
"Great. Good night!" The marteness said, going over to the regular bed in the room and plopping down, tail curling as she stretched out on one of the two beds in the castle that had never been slept in yet. Although granted, Nallmian thought, Desmond might currently be in his room.
Biara seemed to fall asleep rather quickly. This was a common trait amongst those who lived active lives and had to catch sleep whenever they could. Nallmian found himself wondering about his companion's past. She had held her own very well that day during the rescue, fighting two servants at once and killing them while he was trying to fight Jeremy. The stoat almost wondered if perhaps she hadn't spent some time in a warlord's army herself, or in a band of mercenaries, or some other, similar setting. But the stoat decided against prying. If she wanted to tell him about her past, she would. He had gotten so caught up in interrogating that mole that he hadn't really been thinking much about her hearing his story of the bird wing game the Freedom's Lances guards had played. Still, he supposed that he didn't mind too much that she knew. At least she, at the very least, was not completely uninitiated in such matters.
The hours passed relatively quickly, and relatively uneventfully. Every so often there was the sound of somebody out in the corridor, but the movements were fairly loud and overt, and often sounded rather clumsy, as though whoever was moving might be drunk. Or feeling the effects of the herbs Biara had put in the food. In any case, those were not the sounds of somebody planning a stealthy attack, and no threat from the servants had materialized by the time Nallmian woke up Biara for her half of the watch.
Nallmian lay down, able to smell the pine marten's now familiar scent as he did so. It felt good to be able to lie down and rest after several very fully, very stressful days in a row. He considered momentarily using some of the powder, but shrugged off the notion. He had used too much of it today, and anyway, what harm would there be in just laying down, closing his eyes and resting for just a---
The stoat was jolted as he suddenly found himself in that vividly colored hallway of multitudinous different nightmares were his sleep often took him, running down the passages, deterministically pre-fated to open one of those malignly uniform doors and meet some horrible fate. In one room, what looked like a metal serpent covered in jagged blades leapt up at him, forcing itself into his mouth and down his throat until it reached his stomach and literally ripped out through his chest, splattering blood and stomach contents across the walls of the imaginary room.
In another room, sharp wires fell from the ceiling and jabbed themselves under his skin, threading under fur and flesh and muscle, then fixing to his bones until by some unseen force he was made a grotesque living marionette, each twitch of the strings horribly painful, the movements growing more and more forceful until they ripped themselves back out from under his flesh, inflicting deadly wounds in the process.
In yet another, spiders fell onto him from above and crawled up his legs and tail from below, biting him, the bites burning, the burning spreading inward as they pumped him full of an awful poison. The stoat could feel their venom starting to melt his muscles and internal organs, burning them to fiery slurry. He tried to crush the spiders, but when he did their ichor was icy on his fur, so icy it was like daggers to the touch. And then he felt them pulling out what little was left of the mess they had made of his internal organs, and opened his mouth in a silent scream from melting lungs.
And then he was back in the hallway, always looking for a way out, always knowing what awaited him behind the doors, yet never able to avoid them. In the middle of some other horrible torment, however, he suddenly felt himself being shaken in a very different way, and heard someone calling him from just beyond the other side of the door…
"Hey, Nallmian, wake up!" Biara said, jostling the stoat. Nallmian sat bolt upright so quickly he almost collided with the pine marten, who had been leaning over him to shake him awake.
Ears flat, the stoat felt the blood rushing to his face and ears in embarrassment. Dammit! He had fallen asleep. He had meant to wait out the night and then the next day find a way to sleep in a place that was safe, and most importantly, solitary. This meant that Biara had seen his body reacting to the horrible nightmares. What had she seen? Had he screamed? Had he cried? His claws weren't wet so apparently he hadn't bloodied himself, at least. But his tunic was even more disheveled than it had been the night before, and apparently he had succeeded in pushing some of the covers off the bed.
"Err, sorry, I umm, I fell asleep, and ah, was asleep," the stoat managed to stammer out, aware that at that particular moment he sounded dumber than that fox had been. Biara, however, was surprisingly unperturbed.
"Yes, I'll say you were. You dropped off almost immediately and shaking you didn't seem to wake you up. You were really thrashing around in your sleep. I thought you were having a fit or something, but I guess it was just a dream," Biara said. Her tone, however, was not judgmental or scornful, and Nallmian felt a flicker of hope.
"Sorry about that. I tend to toss and turn a lot. And I guess that rescue really took the wind out of my sails," the stoat said, feeling and sounding more coherent. He glanced at Saveaux and saw the newt was still out cold. "Wow, has he been asleep this entire time."
"Yes. He's barely stirred. I did check on him every so often, though, and he's still okay. I think we should think about waking him up now," Biara said. She still didn't seem either fazed or judgmental about Nallmian's uneasy rest, and the stoat was starting to feel hopeful that the whole thing would be written off in her mind and not become a reflection on him.
"I guess you're right. Hold on a sec, I'm going to go get tidied up, and maybe check on the squirrel in the process." Nallmian made his exit from the room, and quickly swung by his own room. He was pleasantly surprised to find it devoid of snobby patrician squirrels, and quickly changed into a clean tunic and neatened his fur. When he came back out, he looked like a proper captain again. Heading back to Saveaux's room, he noticed a distinct lack of traffic in the hallway. Apparently the ball had been a rather late affair, and the residents and staff were being slow to get the next day started.
When Nallmian got back to Saveaux's room, he and Biara took the newt out of his basin, and gently shook him, trying to rouse him out of his deep sleep. Finally, the newt's eyes opened, and he began to wake up.
Nallmian smiled as the newt woke up, providing absolute confirmation that the time and effort had not been a waste, and he and Biara had successfully rescued their
teammate. "You caused quite the ruckus," the stoat said. "You owe us one."
The newt's eyes widened and he sat bolt upright. "N..n..n…aaaaaa..ll…"
Immediately, Biara shushed him. "Saveaux, don't try to talk. Your throat was badly damaged when they tried to hang you. But don't worry, you're safe now. We came and rescued you from the servants. Desmond and the others were having a ball, so most of the servants were distracted. Nallmian and I burst in, killed Jeremy's helpers…and then dumped some strong damson wine on the nasty squirrel brute's head and set him on fire. We think he survived, but that taught him a lesson, certainly."
At the sight of Biara, Saveaux calmed down just slightly, no longer looking as abjectly frightened, but he still seemed rather tense around Nallmian. Nallmian didn't blame him at all. He knew all too well what the poor newt was probably going through. Nallmian hadn't expected to feel strong relief that the newt was safe, but nevertheless, he did.
The newt stared at the stoat, still looking anxious and upset, but also rather surprised. Nallmian chuckled slightly. "Don't look so surprised, mate, of course we came and got you. Good captains don't leave their beasts in the claws of the enemy. You're with us, Saveaux, that makes you our responsibility. We're both okay." The stoat winced a bit. "Well, aside from being punched and kicked a couple of times by that thug Jeremy, but we more than paid him back."
Biara nodded. "We should probably try to go downstairs and meet up with the others. We all need to eat, especially you. And I doubt Jeremy will be trying anything immediately, especially so soon, especially when we're with the others."
Nallmian nodded. "Seems reasonable. We can check on Desmond, too, he wasn't in my room," the stoat paused, and then smiled. "Hey, that's it! Desmond! We can tell Desmond to go have a squirrel-to-squirrel talk with Jeremy and plant some misinformation. We'll have him say that he overheard Agatha telling us about him and giving us information to help in our rescue. Also, I think Agatha was with the servants helping to host the ball, so we can say that she was also in on distracting the staff so there was nobody to stop us or help Jeremy. At the same time, we'll be telling Agatha that Jeremy has weakened."
"Push both of them against each other at the same time, rather than just pushing one," Biara looked thoughtful. "That makes sense. Agatha's got to hate the fact that she's only second in command because of such a tiny difference in age. We'll play on her ego. She'll be in a bad mood, with a headache, from the herbs, if she had any. It'll be easy to get her nice and angry about Jeremy usurping the authority and respect that should rightfully be hers. We'll tell her to just look at last night. She threw together a ball at the last second and managed to have it turn out pretty well, while Jeremy was off running around behind the Professor's back in a way that resulted in more servants being killed, and him being turned into a squirrel candle."
Both mustelids looked at Saveaux. The newt looked hesitant, as though torn between two opposing mental forces. But finally, he looked at them both, and nodded. He also started to get up, apparently ready to go downstairs.
Nallmian smiled at the newt's progress. "Well, you seem ready for some food. Let's go downstairs and catch a bite to eat, then it's time to play some head games." The two mustelids and their amphibian charge left the room and headed down to find something to eat.
On their way down to breakfast, the three stopped in to look at the remnants of the ball. The most immediately noticeable thing was that the large chandelier that had still been above their heads when the two mustelids had left the ball was now on the floor, with the mangled, bloody corpses of five woodlanders pinned beneath it, broken limbs in grotesque positions, faces contorted in silent grimaces. The two mustelids exchanged a glance, wondering if someone had deliberately dropped it, or if there had been an accident of some kind. Continuing to walk through the room, they noticed that some of the ball guests had never made it back to their own rooms. There were servants still sprawled out, fast asleep. Servants, and a certain upper class squirrel…
Desmond didn't wake up as Nallmian nudged him with the tip of his boot, so the stoat knelt down and shook him awake. It took some doing, but finally the squirrel began to come around. He opened an eye lazily. "Oh hi, you missed quite a party last—ooohhhh!" The squirrel suddenly groaned, and clutched the sides of his head. "'Gates, 'GATES, that hurts!" the squirrel groaned out. He looked at Biara and his eyes narrowed, but he didn't look as angry as Nallmian had expected.
"Did you like the tea I gave you, Desmond?" Biara asked pleasantly.
The squirrel snorted. "Well, it dulled the pain, made me see funny things, and made boring beasts seem almost interesting. That last one would come in handy around here."
Biara smiled sweetly. "Well, Desmond, perhaps now you've learned the value of being courteous and polite to others."
"Very funny," he said miserably and sat up, still looking a little groggy. "Well, you've had your little joke, and you've gotten your little half-witted friend back in one piece. What do you want now?" He looked at Nallmian, an amused glint in his eye. "And hello to you, Captain Nallmian. Did you grab a servant who actually fought back? Or are hordes in your captain – er, captains in your horde – supposed to get beaten up in the line of duty?"
"I'm going to let that one go, Desmond, because as you can see we managed to successfully rescue Saveaux," the stoat said pleasantly, than reached over and patted Desmond on the head rather hard, making the squirrel wince a bit.
"Well good. Glad to hear I didn't almost get my head bashed in for nothing," Desmond grumbled.
Biara looked slightly quizzical and looked over at the chandelier. "I'm sorry? What do you mean by that? Did the chandelier almost land on you?"
Desmond started to shake his head, then looked like he regretted it. "No. Halfway through the party, everyone was having a splendid time – especially Quincy… I think even he might have eaten the food, even though I told him not to – when, without any warning, the chandelier came down, the lights went out, and a… an enormous, angry thing came lumbering toward me. I don't know what it was. It was huge – I imagine it could punch through a stone wall or lift a tree out of the ground without much effort." He paused and touched his forehead gingerly. "I don't know what happened next. Flynn started shouting something at it, and it left. Can't say I blame it," he added darkly.
The mustelids exchanged a glance, and Nallmian turned backt to Desmond. "Well, Desmond, that just goes to show that we're all in danger from the Professor and his minions, even you. Which is why you'll want to hear our suggestion for how to get them back."
"Do tell," the squirrel growled, still looking cranky. "I see I'm not going to get rid of you without letting you spill your brilliant plans first."
"Well, when we were rescuing Saveaux, we got into a fight with Jeremy. He was pretty formidable. He could throw a punch, and hitting him was like punching a board. However, it turns out he is not fireproof. We managed to set him on fire—"
"With my really good damson wine!" Biara chimed in.
"Yes, with Biara's very tasty damson wine. She broke a bottle of it over his head and in his face, I grabbed a wall torch, and the rest was obvious. The squirrel candle ran out of the room screaming and trying to put himself out. We think he survived, due to the absence of a dead body. Now, back when we first met up, we had a…conversation, with another castle servant."
"Oh joy," Desmond deadpanned.
Nallmian ignored the squirrel. "While we were questioning him, he told us that Jeremy has a strong rivalry with a female rat named Agatha, who, after him, is the second most senior of the castle servants, and like him has much more individuality than most of the servants you see around the castle. Enough to have ambition of her own, and enough to resent the fact that Jeremy gets to lord it over her despite the fact that he's only her senior because she was born just a very little bit later. Now, to retaliate against the servants, we were going to go find Agatha and talk to her. We'll tell her what Jeremy did, tell her just how badly it backfired on him, and make sure she knows that Jeremy is at his very weakest right now, having just severely botched what was probably an unauthorized operation, with the result of several of his closest staff members being killed and him being lit on fire," the stoat continued. " The idea is to get her to start making he rmove against Jeremy, therefore distracting him, and either keeping him out of our fur for a bit, or even better, killing him."
"Fine, good idea. Now why don't you go do that and leave me alone?" The squirrel said, still looking groggy and irritable.
"Well, there's another side to this whole thing," Biara said. "We were thinking that we should also push from the other side, try to get Jeremy to act against Agatha. You're a squirrel, he's a squirrel, so we were thinking that you should go talk to Jeremy. You can spread some misinformation. Tell him that you overheard Agatha talking to us and conspiring against him. Tell him that she gave us a bunch of information on him, and then arranged for most of the staff to be out of the way by hosting a ball."
"I don't know. It sounds like an awful lot of work on my part…" Desmond said.
"Well, the alternative is for you to just sit around and do nothing until the hulking beast who stalked you at the party comes back and turns you into a squirrel pancake. This way, at least you're taking the fight to the servants. Who knows? Maybe if enough of Falliss' staff dies, more than one of us can escape from the castle. Falliss said he only wanted one of us to escape, but if his staff gets too depleted, how is he going to keep us in here until that happens? If we can weaken his support structure enough that we can all get out, nobody else has to die here. Well, except a few servants. But honestly, who cares about them?" Nallmian said, hoping the snobby squirrel was practical enough to accept his advice.
"Not to mention that if you help us, it helps us help you stay safe. And I can probably think of something to help with that headache of yours after you go talk to Jeremy," the marteness added.
Desmond eyed her distastefully. "I think I've had enough of your tea," he growled. He thought for a moment and sighed. "All right. I suppose it's better than just waiting around for another beast to die. Yes, I'll talk to Jeremy. I'm sure he'll be shocked to find out how I "overheard" Agatha and the two of you plotting to overthrow him. I expect he'll be quite livid when I'm through with him, so assuming the two of you don't make a complete mess of things, it should work. I'll just have to take a leap of faith to trust in your competence."
Nallmian suppressed a quip and instead just said "That's fine. We can handle Agatha. We'll head out after breakfast to go find her and tell her that Jeremy is vulnerable. Hopefully by this evening the two of them will be at each others' throats and no longer thinking about killing us."
"Speaking of killing, you four have a lot of explaining to do!" Rhea marched into the room, flanked by Quincy and Kima. "We need some answers, and we're not leaving until we get them."
