POV: The first part of this chapter is Lucia Pastor, and the second half is back into Emily's head.
Part V continued
"Broken"
Chapter 53
Lucia Pastor barged into the physician's office. "You can't leave, Lorenzo. The people of Karnaca need you!"
He scowled at the woman as she grabbed his luggage, yanking it out of his hand. The suitcase bounced to the floor, bursting open in a flurry of rumpled clothes and worn books. "Outsider's ass, Lucia!"
She glowered down at him as he groaned, bending old knees to gather up his things and stuff them back into the suitcase. She spat, "So that's it, huh? You're going to take your precious ticket to Wynnedown and turn your back on your patients? Look at me, Lorenzo!"
"Void, woman! You know I tried," he growled, pushing his spectacles up his nose and reluctantly meeting her eyes.
Lucia knew he'd tried. When Addermire had closed, Lorenzo had tried his best to take on their bloodfly cases. He even took out an advertisement in the Karnaca Gazette, and Lucia had donated funds from the Shindaery Peak Miners' Family Committee to help set up his clinic in Canal Square. And come they did. Sometimes with cases so advanced, bloodfly larvae bursting through inflamed skin, and yet Doctor Lorenzo hadn't turned them away. At first. When she'd heard he'd closed down his clinic, Lucia had taken the first train down from the Dust District. She had to convince him to stay.
"Lorenzo," Lucia pleaded. "If you leave, the people of this district will have no one. No one. The bloodfly situation is only getting worse––"
"Which is exactly why I have to leave," he said, wiping a hand across his weary face. "This whole dreadful business has become a danger to me. If I can't protect my own health, how can I cure others?"
"Cure others?" Lucia practically screeched, making Lorenzo wince. "Is that what you want? To treat scurvy and chilblains in Morley instead of helping people survive, here, in your own country?"
"Yes, that is exactly what I want! What a relief it will be to treat scurvy and chilblains after all these hideous infections! The bloodflies are out of control and you know it. The Duke is doing nothing while we toil––and for what?" He glanced at the dead woman on his examination table, her chest flayed open where bloodfly hatchlings had eaten through her guts to escape. "These poor people are going to die no matter what I do." He looked at her with sorry eyes. "Karnaca is at the brink of ruin. I'll not stay to watch her fall."
Gods, the torture in his voice… Lucia didn't know if she wanted to hit him or hug him.
She knew what it felt like to buckle beneath the weight of so much grief and helplessness, but the widow steeled her heart. Too many people were depending on her to stay strong.
The city was desperate.
Bloodfly infestations were growing at an alarming pace and the Duke's attempt to contain the situation by smoke-flashing buildings put into quarantine was barely holding back the red tide. The Duke's hypocritical attempt. Bloodflies were flourishing with each execution sanctioned by the Duke and carried out by the Grand Guard. And despite the rumors that the Crown Killer had left Karnaca for Dunwall, the city continued to suffocate beneath a sense of doom happily preached by the Overseers, the only ones seemingly pleased by the worsening situation as the faithful swarmed their enclaves for promises of absolution and relief.
Lucia hated the Abbey, how they feasted on the poor and the weak when things got bad. And things were really bad. Far worse than she had ever seen growing up in Karnaca. She was Serkonan through and through, and it galled her how people like Lorenzo––who had so much to give––could just walk away.
Lucia had grown up in the well-off Palace District, but she'd married 'low' (against her mother's wishes), taking a miner to husband. The love of her life. But he'd died in the Duke's precious silver mines, and ever since then, she'd dedicated her life to helping others less fortunate.
Lorenzo clutched his suitcase in a white fist, glaring at her as she blocked the door. She couldn't let him get away so easily. "What about Addermire?" she demanded.
"What about it?" he asked, impatiently glancing at his pocket watch. "Please. I can't miss my train."
"Just hear me out, Lorenzo. Everyone knows Doctor Hypatia is working on a cure. Join her at Addermire!" She stepped forward, clutching his arm. "Can't you do that much?"
"Void, Lucia. You know as well as I that no one has seen or heard from Alexandria for over four months! She's probably dead! It's too dangerous working around the infected. Now let me go!" He roughly pushed past her, knocking her aside. As she fell against the counter, several glass beakers crashed to the tiled floor in a shrieking chorus.
"Coward!" she spat after him, glaring at his back as he disappeared around the corner. She hissed into her hand, "Fool!"
Now what was she to do?
She flung open a window, the suffocating heat driving her mad as the noon day sun baked the city. Across the street, the Karnaca Enclave glowed with its stoic white stone. The Overseers were sermonizing in front of the stately building, pulling quite a crowd of curious onlookers. Normally, she'd mumble under her breath about Void-forsaken Overseers and turn away, but she paused at the window as the sermon drifted up to her ears.
"If it's true that a witch now sits on the throne in Dunwall," he was saying, "and that the Duke of Serkonos is in her thrall, as is whispered in parlors and alehouses across the Empire, do not doubt we will verify this claim and we will act. Smoke will billow, fires will lick the stones of Dunwall Tower, and at the end of it all the Abbey will stand in the ashes."
It scared her, this talk of witches and war.
She slammed the window shut at the same time she heard something behind her, a female grunting sound followed by a thudding noise. She spun around, gasping in fright to realize she wasn't alone. Lorenzo's clinic was on the small side, and with his examination table already occupied by a dead body, the intruder had apparently found it appropriate to slam her dead body on a bare countertop.
The corpse slumped off her shoulder as the mysterious woman stepped back to look at Lucia behind a silk handkerchief with dark brown eyes. Many people covered their faces, nowadays, due to the dust of the mines blowing down from the mountain, so it didn't frighten Lucia that the woman was hiding her face.
"This clinic is closed!" Lucia barked, stepping closer to look at the dead man she'd brought in, but a cursory glance showed no signs of bloodfly larvae. Desperate people would sometimes bring their loved ones into the clinic with infections so advanced, they literally died on the table before Doctor Lorenzo could see them.
Lucia didn't recognize the dead man, though he looked Serkonan. His chest and arms were riddled with tattoos, and his face was badly bruised like he'd been beaten. She figured it was the woman's husband, but the intruder didn't look upset, merely inquisitive as she glanced around the clinic like she was looking for something.
Lucia grabbed a blue-tinged vial of Addermire's Solution and gave it to her. "Here. Take it. Void knows Lorenzo doesn't care. It's not a cure, but it'll help stave off infection." She glanced at the dead man. "I'm sorry about your husband, but there's nothing to be done. He's dead."
"He's not my husband."
Lucia stared at the woman. Her dark coat was exquisite, and while her demeanor didn't exactly scream noble, her posh accent was clearly foreign. From Dunwall, if she had to guess. "Who are you?" she demanded, her temper already frayed from Lorenzo's regrettable departure.
"Are you Lucia Pastor?"
"Yes. And you are?"
That a complete stranger would know her name didn't bother her. Many people knew about her charity work. Lucia Pastor was practically a household name in Karnaca.
The young woman cocked her head. "What will we do with a drunken whaler?"
Lucia froze. That was the last thing she'd expected. She breathlessly stammered the appropriate reply, "Ho-hoorah, and up she rises, so early in the morning." Her eyes widened. "Are you with the Royal Spymaster?"
Lucia's entanglement with the Lord Protector's spy network was unconventional at best, only made within the last three years when she'd been approached by the Crown for intel regarding the Duke's silver mines. Rather mundane, all things considered, though at one point she'd been asked a very interesting question…
Where is Aramis Stilton?
The so-called 'baron of the mines' had disappeared three years ago, a mystery Lucia knew nothing about. She hadn't expected to be contacted again after that failure, and had lost no sleep over it, truth be told.
For Void's sake, she wasn't a spy!
Her heart belonged to the miners and their poor families, not the obscenely rich aristocrats in faraway Dunwall. The only reason she'd agreed to provide information in the first place was for the money, which Lucia funneled straight into the Miners' Family Committee.
Lucia's mouth dropped open when the woman pulled down her handkerchief and said, "You could say that."
"Emily Kaldwin?!"
Lucia couldn't believe she was standing right in front of the Empress! Up close, Lucia was struck by her beauty. The Empress had the dark eyes and hair of a native Serkonan, but her paler Gristolian skin gave her a radiant look. The woman was like a portrait brought to life, as if she'd just walked out of her own banner––now taken down, replaced by Delilah's face plastered all over the city. It was no secret the Duke had sent his hound dogs after her. The Grand Guard was out in force, making everyone's life a living hell. Lucia had half a mind to turn her in for the sizable bounty (to fund the coffers of the Committee, of course), but with the Royal Spymaster's secret phrase passing her lips, she felt a tiny thrill of excitement.
Maybe the Crown needed her, after all, and––damn her mother––Lucia liked feeling needed, no matter who was doing the needing.
"In the flesh," the aristocrat said, rather flippantly considering she was on the run for her life. She leaned against the countertop and crossed her arms. "I overheard you talking about Addermire. What can you tell me about it?"
Lucia gaped at her. What was she doing in Karnaca, and why ask about Addermire? Lucia wasn't one for military strategy or political maneuvering, but wouldn't the Empress be better served heading north? Lucia had heard rumors that Morley and Tyvia were a breath away from attacking Serkonos outright as traitors to the Crown.
War was in the air like a sickening cloud of death, a pall over the city…
The Empress softened her gaze. "Lucia, any insights you can offer me might mean the difference between life and death for many people. I have reasons to believe the Crown Killer is linked to Addermire."
Lucia felt a familiar stab of fear at mention of the Crown Killer. That sadistic butcher had painted Karnaca in blood for months, dealing pain that would last generations. She'd read in the papers that the legendary Royal Protector Corvo Attano was most likely the Crown Killer, but she never believed it.
He was a hero of Serkonos! The people of Karnaca loved Corvo. They hadn't forgotten that he was one of them: Corvo was born and raised in Karnaca.
"Linked how?" the widow asked.
The Empress said, "You mentioned the alchemist, Hypatia. It's possible the killer was one of her patients. Addermire treats mental cases, does it not?"
"Yes, but Alexandria would have told me if she was afraid of one of her patients. The Crown Killer is deranged! If he was one of hers, surely the doctor would be dead!"
The Empress considered this with narrowed eyes. "Alexandria… You're friends?"
"Of a sort. We both care for the miners. Hypatia's dedicated her life to treating their ills while I have tried to lift their families from poverty––to fund soup kitchens and childcare programs." She smiled fondly. "As Alex would say, she treats their bodies and I treat their souls."
"So you've been inside Addermire?"
"Yes, I've been inside, back when it was still open." She shrugged. "Many of Hypatia's patients were admitted because of me. I brought them to her. The special cases. The poorest of the poor." She shook her head, sighing. "But the Duke closed Addermire months ago, supposedly because the doctor needed to concentrate on refining her Solution, to cure advanced cases of bloodfly infection, but…"
"But what?"
Lucia shuddered, hugging herself. "But others say she's a prisoner, that Hypatia already made the cure and the Duke is hoarding it for himself and his rich circle of cronies."
"You don't believe it."
"Not one word. The Alexandria I know would never keep the cure from those who needed it most. Even if she was a prisoner, she'd find a way to get the cure out there."
The Empress slowly nodded. "This helps…" She glided away from the countertop to rifle through Lorenzo's notes. She ripped away a clean sheet of paper and slapped a pen over it. "Draw me a map of Addermire. Whatever you can remember."
Lucia did her best, but it had been months since she'd been back there. The Addermire Institute was an enormous complex in various states of disrepair. She knew it was Hypatia's dream to one day restore the place to its former glory.
Lucia handed her the scrawled map and added, "You might try Alexandria's apartment for more information. She lives across from the carriage station, right above the Winslow shop."
She watched the Empress fold away the map inside her coat. "Thank you, Lucia. Just one more question. Do you know a Jameson Curnow?"
"Curnow? No, I don't think…"
"It's possible he's going under an alias. He's another of my father's spies, and he's operating out of the Dust District so I thought you might know him. Your headquarters are there, aren't they?"
Lucia shook her head. "Yes, but no, that name doesn't ring a bell." At the Empress' frown, she eagerly jumped on, "But if you have a sketch, I might recognize him."
"It's worth a shot. Can you wait here? I'll have one of my men deliver a picture for you to look at some time today."
Lucia thought it strange. If the Empress was in Karnaca, surely her father, the Royal Protector, was too and could find his own damn spy! She stammered, "I'll w-wait, of course, Your Majesty."
"Good. I'll send my man as soon as possible. He'll be… tall." She took a deep sigh and pulled at the dead body on the counter. "I should go."
"What are you doing with that corpse anyway?" Lucia blurted in bewilderment as the Empress slung the dead weight over her shoulder and grunted.
She pulled the handkerchief back over her face. "Delivery."
.
I left the body in a dumpster near the dentist's office. I'd arrived too early, and with no sign of Dougal or the others, I decided to take a detour and check out Doctor Hypatia's apartment.
That the Crown Killer might be one of her patients had been scrawled in the margins of Sokolov's notes on Addermire, but Meagan had dismissed it as conjecture.
Was it not all conjecture?
I wiped my sweaty brow, yearning to tug out of my coat and be free of this oppressive heat. Karnaca was an oven and rank with the most torturous of smells the deeper I went. Rotting fish. Garbage left to rot in the streets. The coppery scent of blood and the maggot stench of bloodfly husks… Only the perfume of tropical flowers made it semi-bearable.
Even the wind was of little relief, as it carried the chalky tang of dust that made my eyes water.
There was a food market outside the dentist's office doing brisk business. I exchanged small coin for two ripe bananas and a glossy apple and took my feast into an abandoned stairwell beneath the railway, its train cars leading further inland. I sat on the steps, relaxing in the shade away from the others––who paid me no mind––and listened to the street performers as I ate. They played a catchy tune, but as I listened to the verses, I felt my attention gather like a storm.
Their song was about me.
"…They say Emily was born to wear a crown on her head / But all her young life, some wanted her dead / She ascended too soon, or that's what they said / And 'fore too long, the streets would run red…"
"…A coup, a coup! What is it to you? / A feast or a famine, a nail or a screw? / A Duke from the south, a vile witches brew / A coup, a coup! What is it to you?…"
The song ate at me, the verses stuck in my head. The walls of Dunwall, did they help her at all? No. She trusted her allies, played into their hands. Yes. Void, yes.
"…A mystical woman, Delilah she's called / Claimed rights to the throne, and the Duke she enthralled / Some called it magic and some called it fate / Did she do it for love, did she do it for hate?…"
Did she do it for love or did she do it for hate?
Did it matter? I wanted her dead.
I swallowed the last of the apple and discarded the banana peels in an overflowing trash bin. I took a swig from my water canteen as I peered around the stoned archway of the railway underbelly. A fancy, garden-strewn boulevard divided the looming carriage station, teeming with officers of the Grand Guard, from the stately row of apartment buildings and high-class shops below. Away from the docks, this part of the Theodanis District had a more affluent feel compared to the rank squalor of Canal Square.
For one, there were no executions on display.
Down by the fetid canal, when I'd used Amadeo's apartment to reach the rooftops surrounding the Overseer's outpost, I'd spotted three of them, strung up on wooden posts, their hands tied behind their backs and their heads hung low. Two men and a woman. They'd been shot––for what, I had no clue. It was murder in the streets: executions, not fair trial and sentencing.
The Duke had given the Grand Guard free reign of the city, and the way I heard it, the bastards made up new laws and taxes on the spot, harassing people and executing those who put up a fight. It was totally corrupt. Totally heartbreaking.
I needed to put a stop to it. It was my duty as Empress.
But I couldn't. Not today. Not everyone. There were too many. The Grand Guard were thick like ants, crawling all over the carriage station––even on its roof––like they bloody well knew it stood in the way of Addermire.
I backed away, saving Hypatia's apartment for another time. Or perhaps Dougal can check up on it, I thought. Having an extra pair of eyes and ears helped immensely.
I returned to the dumpster with the body and wedged myself between it and the rocky outcrop dead-ending the street, taking care to watch for who was watching me. Mostly no one. Other than a few jealous stares at my fine clothes or nervous glances at my weapons, I was left alone. Too many people had their own problems to worry about.
I pulled a crumpled letter from my coat. I'd grabbed it from the Overseer's outpost, skimming it quickly to gage its importance before stuffing it in my coat. I hadn't lingered. I'd went in, sleep-darted my way through, and grabbed the body Mindy wanted from the interrogation room and got out. Fast, quick, clean. No deaths, no witnesses. Ghost.
Now with the time, I read the letter. Thoroughly. It was an unsent letter, and it was mine. Truth be told, this spy business was fun. There were no lies, just the plain written truth.
'Esteemed High Overseer Khulan,' it flowed in elegant script, 'I hope you're in good health, and not too nostalgic for Wei-Gon, which I'm told is striking this time of year. Forgive my stream of letters, but our problems in Serkonos are significant, and any insights you can offer me would be most welcome.
Duke Luca Abele is a travesty, openly disdainful of the Abbey, and yet I must maintain relations with him for the welfare of this nation. You've been called a unifier, something the Abbey greatly needed after the horrors of the Rat Plague, and so your guidance would be of value.
Under the Duke, the streets here are overrun with cutthroats. Paolo and his Howler gang grow bolder every day. I urgently request more Overseers from White Cliff to replace our losses.
Lastly, my recent correspondence with our Oracular Sisters has been deeply troubling. Their responses have arrived after marked delay, and their recent proclamations possess… an unusual cadence.
Yours in faith, Vice Overseer Liam Byrne.'
My hand shook as I read that last bit. The Oracular Sisters. All I could think of was Sister Maria Somonos of Cullero, the very Blind Sister who had prophesized the two-faced witch, the Outsider's death, and… forget it. I brutally crumpled the letter in my fist and stuffed it back into my coat pocket.
If that bitch told the Abbey I had the Mark of the Outsider, by the Void… Was that what was so troubling? I'd been hoping the clear signs of Delilah's black sorcery would turn the Abbey's eye on her not me, not to mention the Duke's reputation for whoring and gluttony would soil any alliance between Delilah and the Abbey. That, at least, seemed to be going in my favor.
I waited and kept a watchful eye.
Soon I spotted Dougal, so tall he was easily spotted in a crowd, and discretely made eye contact across the market. A giant tooth hung over the dentist's office, its owner, one Amalia Assur, apparently long gone.
The office was abandoned, but one of the windows around the back was broken into. There were subterranean stairs leading into a dark basement, but I wasn't yet ready to face Mindy Blanchard, not without coordinating with my team first.
Team, or maybe family, I thought, my heart swelling at the sight of my brawny Morley giant and starry-eyed prince, his pale face stricken with wonder as he absorbed his first real taste of modern civilization. I was even happy to see Meagan, her fierce gaze wary and watchful. We quietly crowded inside the dentist's office, and after using Dark Vision to double check the room (for, maybe, a homeless person who may have claimed the place, or even a listening device like an audiogram machine), I nodded at the others. "We can talk freely," I said, "Just not too loud. Did you run into any trouble with the bloodflies?"
"Oh, a wee bit," Dougal said with a grin, his cheeks mucked with bloodfly guts, the red smears making it look like he was almost blushing.
"What happened?"
Dougal nodded at Meagan, and she said, "We found a Nest Keeper. The infection did something to his head. Brain damage or…" She scowled. "Or maybe black magic. He was protecting the nests."
I gaped at her. I'd never heard of such a thing, and oddly enough, it reminded me of the Weepers from the time of the Rat Plague. They'd once been human, but the plague had turned them into monsters. "Did you kill it?"
"No, we just let it alone. Made our way through," Meagan said. "Emily, what's going on? Dougal said you needed backup."
"I don't trust Mindy, the tattoo artist. She's with the Howlers and she's… well… she's curious about what I'm asking her to do. She suspects the tattoos aren't normal tattoos, that it's linked to the Outsider. Both Loki and I need them, so to put it plainly, we need a bodyguard. I need you to watch out for more Howlers in case she decides to do something stupid."
"Fair enough," Meagan said.
"What about me?" Dougal asked.
"I need you to go back to the ship," I said, smiling sheepishly when he scoffed. "I know, again, but this time to grab that portrait of Jameson Curnow from the blackboard. I met Lucia Pastor and I want to see if she can identify another of my father's spies. Maybe Curnow can help us out with the Dust District. We need to know what he's gleaned from all his time in Karnaca." I dug into my coat and pulled out the area map, showing him where to find Lucia. "Can you do that?"
"Aye. And after?"
"Return to the Dreadful Wale. We shouldn't leave Eileen and Katya undefended for long, mostly with Rosemary in the brig."
"About that…" Dougal said, awkwardly rubbing the back of his head.
Dread sank into my belly. "What happened?"
"She's missing," Meagan hissed, her dark eyes alighting over my face.
"Missing?"
"Yes. I told you she was dangerous. She must have possessed one of the rats… Got out. She could be anywhere in the city by now!" Her face hardened. "Maybe Corvo was right. Maybe we should have killed her. Void knows what trouble she's up to."
Damnit, Rosemary. I felt betrayed.
I glanced at Loki. He'd been silent throughout, but I'd felt his solemn green eyes on me, ever present. He looked tired––like he hadn't rested enough after the storm––but there was excitement there, too, and wonder. Always wonder. Everything was new to him.
I faced him. "Loki, can you… feel where she is?"
I couldn't help but remember how he'd seen her two faces, his eerie words coming back to me… 'One is young and beautiful, the other old and beautiful––in her own way. Though she's quite insane.'
Loki frowned, blinking sleepily at me, his voice languid and tired. "A part of her has never left. She is… she has taken a part of you, Emily, and you have a part of her."
