Part V continued

"Broken"

Chapter 52

"Just follow the running man, he says. Right. The running man. Void forbid the Outsider should speak plainly f––"

I had one leg over the balcony railing when I caught movement below. "I told you what would happen if you reported me, Rapollo," a guard jeered. "I warned you!"

There were three of them. Two guards (in blue uniforms, of common rank in the Grand Guard) and one terrified-looking civilian whose off-balance arm-wheeling had caught my eye when the jeering guard shoved him towards a flickering Wall of Light.

Amadeo's apartment hugged the waterfront, buffered by a winding stone patio that spilled over an area reserved for windmill operations, its snaking red-hot cable powering the Wall of Light. The Grand Guard had set up the deadly barrier to restrict access to the Canal Square beyond.

Such security measures were expected, but easily bypassed. Case in point: Amadeo's apartment. It backed into the Canal Square.

What I didn't expect to find was the Wall of Light being used against the populace.

The civilian begged for his life. "Please! You gave me no choice!"

One more shove and he'd be vaporized in a heartbeat.

"Please? It's too late for that, Rapollo," the guard jeered as they slowly ganged up on him, his fellow guard snickering as the terrified man backed up as far as he could, the Wall of Light crackling with deadly promise.

There was little time to react.

I could try to reach the windmill and cut off the power, disabling the Wall of Light, but the lever was not facing in my direction and––fuck it––I'd missed the third guard, guarding the windmill. He moved into view after pissing in a bush, zipping up his fly and casually slouching against the stone palisade, watching the scene below like he didn't give two shits about murder. Was this what Karnaca had fallen to? People dying in the streets? The city's protection turned against its own people?

Sleep darts would be too slow, and my angle was bad. There was no time for a graceful rescue. I used Far Reach to jump, unseen, behind the slouching guard. I shoved him over the stone palisade into the fish market below, his screams ripping the air. I brought up my pistol in the next instant, firing a shot across the marketplace to hit the streetspeaker dangling over the empty stalls.

All of it was noisy––the guard screaming and crashing below, the pistol discharging with a thunderous blast, the bullet hitting dead-on in a snapping shriek, and the subsequent crash as the streetspeaker hit the ground in a spray of tortured metal.

It was enough.

The civilian ran for his life as the two guards spun around to face the source of the gunfire, but I'd already moved, snagging my arcane tether to catapult across the marketplace onto a second-story balcony. The civilian's desperate footsteps pounded the cobbled stones as he ran down a dark alleyway, and watching his back, I was struck by one incredulous thought…

Follow the running man!

I spared a glance at the guards. The one I'd sent flailing over the palisade was alive, but judging from his screams had broken a bone or two. The other two were wildly looking about, their swords drawn. Shrapnel from the streetspeaker had bloodied their exposed arms. I cast my (non-lethal) Doppelgänger out into the open, letting them take a few whacks at it as I slipped away to follow the running man.

The darkened alleyway stank of fish. I used the balconies, zigzagging across to keep the running man in sight as he practically fell over himself to get away. I was glad my distraction had worked, that I'd saved him, but it'd been too close. My heart was pounding and I felt almost dizzy. I'd taken a huge risk intervening like that, but the instinct to do something, to not just sit back and let a man be murdered in front of my eyes had overridden all other thought.

The running man stopped running.

He collapsed on a stone stairwell, peering around the corner with a deathly pale face, and then fell back to hang his head between his knees and dig shaky fingers through his dark hair.

On the wall next to him, standing out like a beacon against the stones in faded black paint, was a handprint. The black market. I snorted, shaking my head in wonder. Thank you, Outsider. I was on the roof of a bright blue building, tucked inside blessedly cool shadows cast by several nearby buildings.

The morning sun blazed over Karnaca, intensifying my desire to shrug out of my coat. It was getting hot.

A woman shared the rooftop with me, but she was oblivious to my presence, her back turned as she smoked a cigarette. Below I spotted a streetside grill and two rickety picnic tables. A pleasant aroma drifted upwards, battling the stink of fish. A few dirty-aproned workers were gutting them in the alleyway, sawing fish tails and skimming scales as they sang a diddly whaler's tune.

"…Now the rats on the deck, nippin' my feet / And the holes in my rags, stealin' my heat / These bowls of brown soup, with scarcely no meat / Make me dream nightly of my sunny old street…"

Smiling faintly, I turned away, drawn by the sound of a blaring streetspeaker on the opposite side of the roof, facing the bay. I idly listened, running a hand over my pistol to check the chamber before sliding it back into my holster.

"Fellow Serkonans," a female voice blared, "In the Duke's absence, I have the following announcement. New restrictions are now in place due to the political assassinations conducted in the name of the former Empress, Emily Kaldwin, and carried out by the former Royal Protector, Corvo Attano. The Grand Serkonan Guard will be stopping and questioning all foreigners on the streets of Karnaca. Compliance is mandatory. Travel between districts is restricted to those carrying the appropriate permits. Any attempt to hinder the Grand Guard in their enforcement duties will be met with the exercise of force."

The streets were busier, a lively bustle welcoming 'just another day' in Karnaca, as if 'political assassinations' were of no concern to the everyday citizen. In many ways, perhaps it wasn't. The coup hadn't stopped traders from pouring over the docks, haggling over prices. Burly men handled cargo. And Meagan's skiff was just another boat come dockside, the buzzing crowd paying it no mind.

It helped that the Grand Guard had let the docks alone, seemingly piling their numbers further inland.

I checked over my shoulder. Still good. I wiped my sweaty brow, glancing over the shining bay towards the Dreadful Wale. Loki had devised a spell to conceal the pirate ship. Even now, all I saw was a misty haze where the ship should be, like heat over a desert. He'd said it was permanent for as long as the spell was etched into the 'sand' of the deck, that he didn't need to be present for it to work. First, the storm, then that. I felt overwhelmed with gratitude, that we were lucky enough to have him on our side. His Maormer magic was proving exceptionally useful.

The streetspeaker droned on above the busy streets. "Fellow Serkonans, this year's bloodfly concern is the most severe in recent memory. If you encounter a nest or an infested corpse, do not disturb it. Any attempt to practice the funeral rites of the Abbey of the Everyman will be punished severely…"

I wondered if the bloodflies liked the heat. No doubt it was turning corpses into sticky sweet feasts, perfect breeding grounds for their dewy pale eggs. I hadn't yet seen them, but I could hear their feral buzzing in the background like a ghost-insect crawling up my neck. I felt itchy.

It felt strange being in a new city, but a part of me wanted to soak it all in, despite the danger and the awful reasons I was here in the first place.

"Twenty coins an hour?!" a man shrieked, grabbing my attention. "That is highway robbery and you know it!"

"Like I said, sir, the beautiful specimen you see before you is at peak ripeness. You won't get a better deal," the man drawled in that bored, yet snarky tone all businessmen seemed to own. "Twenty coins per hour, but if you do a full eight, I'll give you a discount of five coins."

"Fine. Eight hours."

The man must be desperate, I thought. In Dunwall, I'd seen it done for a third of the price.

The pair stood before a dead whale, its bloated body slabbed like raw meat across a steep incline, half its tail in the rank water, bloodied by the juices oozing from its corpse. Several man-sized holes had been cut into its fat belly and it was into one of these that the customer, after paying, climbed into––with much grunting and wiggling, with no apparent concern for his fine clothes––until he was just a head poking out of the decaying whale intestine.

For eight hours, he'd stay like that, his achy joints suffusing with warmth and the soupy cocktail of chemicals reeking from the whale corpse, a veritable 'cure' for arthritis. So they said; I wasn't so sure. Sokolov once told me he'd tried for his achy bones and had been pleasantly surprised.

I didn't know how one didn't pass out from the fumes.

It wasn't a blue whale like the great Leviathan I'd seen in the dark cavern beneath Tempest Island. No, the 'beautiful specimen' below was a smaller species of whale with a large set of teeth that looked disturbingly similar to human molars. Between those teeth, I spotted a rune, but the thought of making a detour to grab it rankled my belly. I was slowly realizing Loki's concern for the creatures of the sea had rubbed off on me, and what had once seemed like an everyday occurrence (though admittedly rare as only the upper classes could afford such a 'cure') was now chaffing at my sensibilities.

What a rotten lot we are, I thought.

I turned away, focusing on my mission. Mindy. She was behind the black market, the Outsider had said, but getting there meant investigating the streets below. I was high up enough that I'd need to use Far Reach again, and with the woman sharing the rooftop patio with me, I didn't want her to witness my black magic and start screaming for the Abbey.

I snuck behind her, choked her out, left her body in the shade, then snaked across the alleyway with the black whispers of magic disintegrating behind me.

The feral buzzing of bloodflies grew stronger.

One of the buildings was under quarantine, but a window had been left opened, a dead body hanging half-way out of it like a morbid warning. Nearby, a group was arguing over whether or not to 'chance it'––clearly, a stupid idea––but not to rob the place like I first assumed, but simply to go home. Apparently, they lived somewhere in Canal Square and that nasty bloodfly-infested apartment was a way there.

The Wall of Light was dividing families, carving up a city already divided by bloodfly quarantines.

I snuck past them, unnoticed, their heated argument blinding them to everything around them.

I hoped they decided not to do it.

Karnaca hugged the bay along a rugged coastline, which meant its buildings and streets were of varying level and height. I rather liked it; Dunwall felt flat and boring next to Karnaca's sunny, maze-like streets.

I found another black handprint.

I placed my hand over it as I came to a black iron gate, wedged between two buildings beneath a deep overhang. The sound of the ocean and the city muffled behind me as I curled my fingers around the iron bars and peeked through.

It was a dead end, a 'lost' space formed by the rear of several buildings whose fronts, no doubt, sported a more pleasant view. It was also dark.

"I unlocked the gate," a gravelly voice called from within. A smoker's voice.

I stole through the gate, closing it behind me as the heavy scent of a Cullero cigar overwhelmed the lingering stench of rotting fish. Pricey. I approached the woman lounging all casual on a grungy sofa stuffed against a brick wall.

She watched me with heavy-lidded eyes, her fat cigar pinched between pale, bony fingers as smoke lazily curled around her weathered face. There was something masculine in the line of her jaw, but she wore her bleach-blonde hair like a woman, and her hips were slim. She was slim all over, really. She had no breasts to speak of, her leather vest tight across her flat chest, exposing a plethora of tattoos inked over her arms and chest.

"Mindy Blanchard?" I asked. The tattoos spoke for themselves, but I had to be sure.

"Where's the dark-haired boy?"

"What?"

How could she know about Loki?

Her pale eyes blinked slowly at me like she was stoned. She had her ankles crossed, her long legs resting off the sofa like wooden crutches. Only her hand moved, languidly drawing the cigar to her lips, then falling back to flick ash.

She watched the curling smoke.

"I had a dream," she said in that gravelly, languid voice of hers. She poked the cigar at me. "You were in it, and that boy. That's why I came, even after Paolo laughed at me." I was veiled, only my eyes showing, but she stared at me like she knew who I was. "Do you think it was the Outsider?"

"A dangerous question."

"That's all I ever have. Dangerous questions…" She sucked a drag and rolled her eyes away like the brick wall was as interesting as my face. "The Outsider can lick my balls for all I care. I'll not worship anyone but myself and anything but Paolo's cock, but you…" Her eyes crawled over my body, her head cocking to the side like she was trying to check out my ass. "Magic has its uses, doesn't it? There's power in the right kind of tattoo. I'll ink your sweet ass––and the boy's––for a price."

I felt the Outsider's hand all over this deal and tried not to shudder. It was true. Loki needed the protective sigil tattoo as much as I did. Anyone with the Mark could be pulled into the Void by Delilah. The fact that she hadn't pulled Loki meant she was probably unaware that the Outsider had survived the kiss of death.

"What price?"

"I need a body. Don't worry. He's already dead."

"Where?"

"The Overseers are holding him at their outpost in Canal Square. Bring me the body. I'll be waiting in the basement below the dentist's office near the singer's market. You can't miss it."

That's it? It seemed too low a price for the hungry gleam in her eyes. She wanted something more, I could feel it, but she merely lifted her pale eyes to my face, waiting for my reply like she didn't care one way or the other. Or already knew I'd say yes.

"You have a deal."

"Good. Don't forget to bring the boy."

I gave her a sharp look. Bring the boy. There was a strange resonance to it, like the Outsider had spoken through her as surely as he'd spoken through her dream.

I narrowed my eyes at her. "Of course."

She rose from the couch on stiff legs, snuffing out the cigar on the sole of her boot. She ignored my long stare, moving to the iron gate, but before she slipped through, I called, "Who's the body?"

She smiled, exposing a row of yellowed teeth. "Amadeo Monte. One of the Outsider's fancy boys. Poor bastard lost his shirt in a card game. That was the beginning of the end for him."

She left it at that, disappearing around the corner. I sighed heavily and loosened my shoulders, suddenly realizing how tensely I'd been holding myself.

"Highness?"

I jumped at the deep, male voice, swinging around to find Dougal's head poking out of a second-story window.

"Don't call me that," I said, putting a hand over my thumping heart and scowling up at him.

"Sorry."

"I'm coming up. We need to talk."

"There's a way around," he said, nodding at the window to his right, above the iron gate.

"Wait inside," I ordered. I didn't want him to see my sorcery.

Perhaps it was a moot point (Dougal was utterly trustworthy in my eyes), but for now I didn't want to complicate the situation. Dougal already had a bit of hero-worship going on with Loki because of his 'wizardly' skills.

Dougal popped back inside and I waited a few seconds before using Far Reach to land on a jutting pipe lining the brick wall. I crawled through the window and joined Dougal down the hallway. He was leaning against a cluttered writing desk, his clothes dripping wet and his hair slicked back.

At my questioning look, he said, "It's safe. No one home."

"No. Why are you wet?"

"Oh. Took a swim," he said, smiling faintly as he crossed his brawny arms. "Overheard talk of an overturned cargo ship. Found a cache of goodies. The black market restocked whatever else I couldn't find, paid for by Fletcher gold. He had a sweet sum in that safe of his."

"Good. What else?"

"Talked to a beggar. A few others… The city's on edge. The bloodflies are bad this year, and people say if the Howlers don't get you, the Grand Guard will. There's a bounty on your head, and Corvo's. Dead or alive." He watched me lower my handkerchief, freeing my face, then unexpectedly smiled at me. "Good news, though. Found a recipe for Serkonan fish dumplings."

I smiled back. "Eileen will like that."

"It's for me," he said, feigning offense. "I make a mean dumpling."

I laughed. "Okay, master spy."

He unfolded his arms and sighed melodramatically, but his heavy brow furrowed. "As for the carriage station, the locals say it's off-limits and heavily guarded. No one's been getting into Addermire, lately. It's like the place is under quarantine." He shrugged. "I need more time to investigate."

"Hold off on that. I need you to get back to the ship and grab Loki." I pulled out my map and traced over Canal Square until I spotted the Overseer's outpost and Mindy's likely dental office to the north. "This is our rendezvous point. Bring Loki." I hesitated, glancing up into his blue eyes. "And Meagan."

"You sure?"

I nodded. "I'll need backup on this one."

"Aye." He moved to rummage through his rucksack, pulling out a few sleep darts and elixirs. I slipped them into my coat with thanks. When I recovered my face with the handkerchief, he gave me an odd look. "What is it?" I asked.

"Nothing, just…" He seemed embarrassed, maybe even upset.

"What, Dougal?"

"The bounty posters out there… They're using a picture of Corvo masked from the time of the Rat Plague. Like he's a criminal all over again. A fugitive."

"And, now, I am, too… Dougal, is that why you're upset?"

"Aye. It's not right. The Duke's slander. His lies––"

"It's politics."

He shook his head. "You shouldn't have to hide your face, Empress. It's wrong."

"It was never about the mask––that's what Corvo used to say. He wasn't hiding himself. He was exposing others. Uncovering their masks. Their lies."

"That sounds like Corvo, all right."

I smiled tightly. "I'll meet you at the rendezvous point." I showed him the map one last time. "There's a Wall of Light at this intersection, but you can pass through here." I singled out Amadeo's apartment. "But be careful. I stirred up trouble in the marketplace."

"Like father, like daughter."

"Hmp."

He pointed at the bloodfly-infested building I'd noticed earlier, poking his finger at the map. "I might try here, then. That beggar said there's a way through."

"Be careful," I warned. "Bloodflies are dangerous."

"Between Loki and Meagan, I think we can handle it," Dougal said with a wry smile. "Loki will just blast the buggers with wind and water, and Meagan will call hellfire from her eyes."

I shook my head, bubbling with laughter. "What about you? What's your secret power?"

He scoffed, straightening his back, stretching seven feet of muscle and brawn. "That's easy. Mean dumplings."

"I should have guessed."

Notes:

~To get a feel for Karnaca, I tried looking up real-life places with similar vibes. Great. Now I want to travel to Cinque Terre in Italy. The rugged Italian Riviera coastline is spot on.

~And about people sitting INSIDE whales in man-sized holes... Check out a YouTube video called "Morbid Minute - Decomposed Whale Cure" by YouTuber "Ask a Mortician"... Can we call it inspirational or what?! Lol.

~Oh, and I read on a wiki that Mindy is a trans person, according to the game developers. So I'm writing under the assumption that she identifies as female, but has male anatomy.