A Deal with the Devil

"Three days, Emily Kaldwin."

Emily didn't look behind her, staring out into the Void. "Meaning?"

"I expect progress in three days. Do not disappoint me."

"I understand." She answered.

"You know what you have to do?"

"Yes. But a hint might be nice."

"The Albarca Baths. Your trail starts there."

"Got it. Then I suppose I should wake up and get started." Emily turned around, and met the Outsider's eyes.

"Thank you." She said. "For saving my life."

He stared at her silently for a few seconds, before vanishing in a swirl of shadow.

She sighed, closed her eyes, and let herself fall backwards.

When she opened her eyes again, she was lying on a cold surface. Everything throbbed, dully, particularly her head and her abdomen. She gripped the surface and tried to raise herself.

"Hm? Oh, no, wait! Please, be patient. I wouldn't advise sitting up yet."

Emily sat anyway, fighting the wave of dizziness that accompanied it. She looked to the source of the voice…and tensed, when she recognised Alexandria Hypatia.

The Doctor hesitated, raising her arms in surrender. "No, no, it's alright! I promise, I'm not going to hurt you."

For a woman who'd undergone what she just had, Hypatia looked better than she had any right to. Certainly better than she had before she'd transformed. Her head was bandaged, and her previous jacket had been swapped to an off-white lab coat that was free of any blood. But there was a lot more life in her eyes than there had been before.

"Your friend Thomas already explained what happened, though I can scarcely believe it. Er, your majesty." Hypatia awkwardly curtseyed (in completely the wrong way to greet an empress). "I can assure you that at this moment, I am quite in control of my own mind. If it's alright, I would like to attend to your condition. You have been rather badly hurt."

Well, she's got a much better bedside manner than Sokolov…

Emily gestured for Hypatia to come closer.

"Thank you." The doctor did so, moving up to her and gently taking hold of her face, looking into her eyes. "You are probably feeling somewhat dizzy, fuzzy-headed, absent minded. That's a side effect of the rather strong painkillers I've given you. Trust me, the alternative is worse. Now, I understand that you are unable to speak. But can you nod or shake your head if I ask you a question?"

Emily shook her head.

"Oh. But, what does that—Ah, I see. A joke." Hypatia smiled. "Well, that's good. Now, besides your abdomen, are you experiencing any other symptoms I should know about?"

Emily nodded. Rapped a knuckle against her own head, then winced.

"A headache? Yes, I suppose some mental strain should be expected. Hold on…"

Hypatia turned away, and Emily took the time to check her surroundings. She was still in the lab, and the lab was still a mess (though it was evident that someone had tried to clear it up, to middling success). There was a man unconscious on an adjacent table that she didn't recognise at first…before realising it was probably Vasco. The bandages had been removed from his face, but given what was now visible underneath, Emily almost wished they were back on.

"Poor Bartholomeus." The ache in Hypatia's voice as she returned was almost tangible. "The suffering that poor man has been through, all because of me…Sorry. For now, I must focus."

She extended a vial to Emily. "This is Addermire solution, a tonic of mine that…um, actually. Giving this to you may not be wise. I have still not isolated what mistake in my original serum caused me to…'transform' as I did. I think I shall have to recall the rest of the potions until I can—"

Emily snatched the vial, uncorked the top, and downed it in one.

The relief was practically immediate, both curing her headache and highlighting its cause. Overuse of her magic had always placed a strain on her mind and soul. Before, it had been Pierro's remedy that she'd used to offset the effects. Now it seemed she had an alternative.

My magic…I have my magic back.

"Uh, you weren't really supposed to—" Hypatia stuttered, but Emily flashed the mark on the back of her hand at her. "Oh, I see. 'Witch stuff'. I shan't question."

She stepped backwards, allowing Emily to shift her feet off the table she was lying on and sit properly, then continued. "While I have you here, I should probably show you…well. May I?" She gestured towards Emily's midsection.

Emily frowned, but nodded, and allowed Hypatia to touch the bandages around her midsection. Probably due to the drugs, it was only then that she realised just how exposed she was. Her undershirt and neckerchief were gone, and her coat was hanging from a nearby peg. The only things she was wearing above the waist were the bandages and her bra. Oops. Glad Thomas isn't here to see this…

As Hypatia undid the wrappings, allowing her to see what her stomach looked like, that thought intensified. Her abdomen was a mess of scars. Blood still dripped from the larger ones, and black thread criss-crossed between the torn edges of flesh, pinching them tight together. Emily clenched her teeth, and tried not to gag.

"I did my best to sew up the wounds, and remove the detritus from them. That was mostly, uh. Nail remnants." Hypatia explained. Emily couldn't help but note that the doctor's own fingertips were plastered. "I would advise against strenuous activity for a while, but I somehow suspect you'll ignore that. Liberal consumption of health elixir should stimulate the healing. But, whatever you do, I suspect the scarring will be permanent. And…quite ugly."

She clutched her own fingers, tightly. "I'm sorry. So, so sorry that she—that I—did this to you."

Emily gulped. Then tore her eyes away from the ruination of her own body. She waved her arm through the air, in the universal gesture of 'I'm fine.'

"But…But I hurt you! I'm a doctor, I shouldn't —"

"Bloodflies are all dealt with!" A very welcome voice emerged from the top of the stairs, Thomas' face emerging atop the stairs a few seconds later. "And nobody is ever allowed to ask me to do that again—Emily!"

He vaulted the stairs entirely, rolling and approaching her with a smile…but his expression quickly fell when he saw her stomach, and quickly fell apart entirely when he saw the rest of her.

"Uh." He spluttered, looking away. "Do you want me to—"

She snapped her fingers at her coat, rolling her eyes.

He picked it up and threw it to her, saying "Good to see you up. It's only been three hours, but that's more than enough time for things to get hectic around here. Since we haven't exactly been subtle, the guards have sort of caught on and gone into a state of emergency. Some of the ones we put out have woken up, and—Well, I've beaten up a few more people. And destroyed the lift. And, uh, robbed the basement. There was a lot of strange stuff down there. Point is the only reason they haven't been down here already is the bloodfly infestation, and I had to clear that out, so…we need to go."

"I wouldn't advise moving Miss Kaldwin in her condition." Hypatia protested, meriting an affronted look from Emily as she put her coat on.

"Miss Kaldwin?" Thomas snorted. "I'd be a little more worried about Doctor Vasco."

It took a second for that to register on Hypatia's face. "Wait. You mean for us to come with you? That's completely out of the question!"

"Doc, you might not have much of a choice." Thomas pointed out. "You're not the Crown Killer anymore. That means you've gone from an asset to a liability for Luca Abele. You, and everyone you love, are now in danger. We can help with that."

"But…But Doctor Vasco—"

"I can carry him, if he can survive being carried. But I don't think his chances are much better in here."

"I don't have the resources to—"

"Pack some boxes. Emily can carry them."

Oh, can I? Emily looked at him and raised an eyebrow.

"If you have a problem, just say so." He replied, smirking.

She snapped her fingers. His shadow cuffed him around the back of the head.

"Ow! Right, yeah, you can do that again."

Hypatia interjected again with "But, I have other patients! The people working in the mines, the sick in Karnaca! I can't just abandon them!"

"Doc, I don't think you're going to be seeing any patients under the duke." Thomas told her, gently. "If you know people who can help you in the city, we can drop you off with them. But you can't stay in Addermire."

Hypatia bit her lip, looking away. "I…alright. How will we be leaving?"

"There's a skiff waiting. We'll bring down the watchtower and secure the back port, that will take us ten minutes maximum, then we'll sail away."

"Very well." The good doctor nodded. "I'll gather the things I need and prepare Bartholomeus for travel."

Fifteen minutes later, Emily was stood on the roof of the Addermire institute. It was the middle of the night, but the moon shone brightly, reflecting off the water and illuminating the area. There was little noise, besides the wind and the distant chugging of an oil motor.

Hesitantly, she opened her mouth, took a breath…

She tried. She really tried. But no sound came out.

She grit her teeth, trying to keep it together. It's fine. The powers are enough. I didn't expect him to magically give me my tongue back. Even if the singing was one of my main powers that I now can't use…

Emily shook her head. Then jumped lightly off the edge of the roof.

Less than a second and she was moving fast, wind whipping at her hair and clothes, the ground coming up to meet her, the watchtower flashing past her—

She reached out and snagged it with a tendril.

It latched onto the edge of the metal and extended, slowing her down. Her arm strained, her abdomen stung (please tell me I didn't break the stitches immediately—) and she came to a fairly gentle landing on the stone of the pier.

Three people stared at her. One Vasco was lying unconscious nearby.

'...All clear.' Emily signed, smiling.

"Oh, don't you dare pretend that wasn't for your own enjoyment." Thomas warned.

"So, you kissed the Outsider's ass enough to get them back." Meagan remarked, bringing the skiff to a stop next to the pier. "Was bringing two more people onto the Wale part of the deal? Or was that why you took half a damn day?"

"They were going to die." Thomas rolled his eyes, picking up Vasco.

"Loads of people die. Why are these ones special?"

"Because she's the Crown Killer."

Meagan stared. Thomas laid Vasco down in the boat, and helped Hypatia on. Emily hopped on afterwards (bringing the skiff dangerously low in the water), and Meagan set it in motion again.

"There's only so much food on the ship, you know." The Captain pointed out. "Not to mention rooms. Did you find Sokolov?"

Emily glanced at Thomas. He raised an audiograph. "He's not here. But according to this, he's being held by Kirin Jindosh."

"Kirin Jindosh? Oh, great…" Meagan groaned.

"You're going after Kirin Jindosh?" Hypatia asked, panic plain on her face.

Emily looked between them all. Raised her hands. '…Who?'

"The issue, of course, is in the rare materials being used." Kirin Jindosh continued, puffing on the pipe that doubled as prosthetic fingers on his left hand. "Duke Abele is insistent upon me finding a way to mass-produce the machines in his factory, and I do so wish to please him."

Strapped to a chair looking at Jindosh's back, Anton Sokolov rolled his eyes. "I suppose pleasing such a handsome man must be very gratifying."

"Well, I'm more concerned about the massive quantities of money he's offering." Jindosh admitted. "And, of course, the challenge itself. There's something unique about this kind of problem, isn't there? New inventions are one thing. But streamlining a process, stripping away all the unnecessary edges…that's an entirely different beast."

He was right, that was the irksome part. Sokolov completely understood what he meant. But saying so wouldn't exactly help, so he remained silent, tugging idly at his restraints.

"I must say, I've been looking to your work on the rat plague for inspiration." Jindosh continued, finally turning around. "The way you and Mr Joplin were able to construct the cure from such readily available materials was simply genius. Any similar ideas for my own project? Come on, I'm sure you must have some."

"Well…" Sokolov mused. "I suppose the most glaring expense is in the oils you must regularly reapply to all the mechanical joints. Have you considered replacing your current compounds with sugon?"

Jindosh blinked. "Pardon? What's 'sugon'?"

Sokolov grinned. "Sugon my balls."

Jindosh's jaw dropped, and Sokolov burst into uproarious laughter. "Hah! Ahahahahaha—"

"Are you serious?" Jindosh snapped.

"Hahaha—ack—Ow, my throat—"

"That was not funny. That was infantile."

"Of course it was funny!" Sokolov huffed. "Never heard of a comic drop? Two of the smartest men in the isles, and I just made a joke about genitals. That's hilarious."

"It's pathetic." Jindosh snarled. "As you are. Look at you, a wretched old creature telling childish jokes in a failed attempt to maintain some fragment of his dignity."

"I do think some of that wretchedness might be attributed to the torture…" Sokolov pointed out. "But you're missing the point. Yes, I'm mocking you, but I'm trying to teach you something here." He sighed, waving his arm. It clinked in its restraints. "You're still at that age where you're desperate to prove to everyone how clever you are."

"I am clever."

"I know, but you just proved my point."

"I don't need to prove anything to you." Jindosh huffed.

"Sure you don't. That's why you drag me up to your workshop every day to lecture to me about your genius inventions." Sokolov rolled his eyes again. "I used to be just like you. Hooked on the praise of my peers and superiors. Trust me, when I got sick of that and just started acting however I wished, my life improved drastically. Have you had sex yet? You should try sex. Sex is great."

"I have no interest in such things." Jindosh turned his nose up.

Sokolov shrugged. "Well, all the more power to you, if so. But not if you're only avoiding it because you feel like it's 'beneath' you. There are plenty of good ways to be stimulated besides intellectually, you know."

"I'm sure there are, and I'm equally sure that on my death bed I would regret them all." Jindosh declared. "Every year of my life can advance mankind by decades, if I spend it properly. I do not intend to waste my time drinking and whoring."

"Or having friends?" Sokolov chuckled. "You brought me here because you wanted my creativity and imagination, correct? You might be able to cultivate the same, if you didn't always hide yourself away in your house. Experiencing new things, meeting new people, going new places…That's where inspiration comes from. Well, that or the Void."

"I must say, the latter sounds more interesting, not to mention more productive." Jindosh admitted. "I have some friends from whom I might learn much of the Void, you know."

"Careful, boy." Sokolov growled, dangerously. "That's a dangerous road. Pierro often dreamed of the Void, but he took steps to limit his dalliances with it, and for good reason. An old friend of mine, Eleuterio Cienfuegos, didn't have the same restraint. And now from what I hear he's as mad as a bag of frogs."

"And what would you advise I do?" the Grand Inventor asked, mockingly. "Visit Dunwall and soak in the rain? Attend one of Duke Abele's orgies?"

"Well, seems to me you have three options." Sokolov summarised. "You can let yourself experience a little more of life, and end up like me. You can stare at runes until you go mad, and end up like Cienfuegos. Or you can keep going as you are…and end up like Ivor."

Jindosh frowned. "I don't know of any academic called Ivor."

"Ivor big dick."

"…"

"…"

"…I'm going to torture you now."

"That's fair."

"Kirin Jindosh." Meagan slapped a portrait of a wiry man with a black moustache on the Wale's chipboard. "Grand Inventor of Serkonos. The man responsible for the invention of the clockwork soldier, and according to your intel, the man holding old Anton Sokolov in his basement."

Recognition clicked immediately. 'I know him.' Emily signed.

Meagan frowned at her. "You know his face but not his name?"

Emily brought up her hands and covered her eyes.

"Oh. Right. I suppose the Outsider prefers to be only kind of helpful."

Thomas took that moment to walk in. "I cleared out the old supply room," He said, "Hypatia's settling in there with Vasco. Things are still touch and go, but she's hopeful. We resting up, or going straight for Sokolov?"

Emily turned to the pen and paper beside her, and started writing.

'We aren't. We have another problem.'

"Oh, boy." Thomas sat down.

"What?" Meagan asked, moving closer.

'Getting my powers from the Outsider came with conditions.' Emily wrote, face set in stone. 'He needs me to do him a favour. Immediately.'

"A favour?" Meagan asked. "What does a god need from you?"

'To save him.' Emily sighed, tapped the pen on the table a few times, and tried to explain.

'He never explained himself much, because of course he didn't. But as I was being accepted as Empress, he asked me if I would try to 'save' him too. I said yes.'

"You never mentioned this to me." Thomas told her, narrowing his eyebrows.

'Busy. Putting it off. Don't have that option anymore.'

"Well this sounds like a whole lot of trouble we don't need." Meagan groused. "Did he say what you had to do?"

'Only the first step.' Emily grimaced. 'He wanted me to find Daud.'

The Knife of Dunwall. Leader of the Whalers. Most frightening assassin of his time. The man who had murdered her mother.

Heh. Mustn't give him too much credit. I stabbed her; he just facilitated it.

"Daud?" Meagan's face went slack, her eyes as wide as saucers. "Are you serious? Why would he—What does—Nobody even knows where Daud is!"

"Nobody can hide from everybody." Thomas pointed out.

"Daud can. If I can't find him, I have no idea how we're going to."

"You've been looking?" Thomas asked.

"Not important. What does the Outsider even want with him?"

"Well, it's got to be about the mark. He has one too, doesn't he? But why would—"

Emily slammed a fist on the table. It shut them both up, and made them pay attention to the paper she was wafting in their faces that read 'Albarca baths, Karnaca. Daud's here.'

"Here…" Meagan stepped away, gripping her stump with her other arm. "After all this time…but, wait. We finally know where Sokolov is. And who knows what that maniac Jindosh is doing to him!"

"I won't ask again." Jindosh snarled. "Help me, or you will be made to."

Sokolov gasped for breath, shaking in the electric chair. "You should…be asking…Joe."

"Who's Joe?" Jindosh demanded.

Sokolov grinned.

"And you want us to leave him there and go searching for an old assassin?" Meagan finished.

'Not us. You.' Emily wrote. The hand she wasn't writing with shifted to her abdomen, which still stung every time she so much as shifted. Her eyes narrowed. 'The Outsider's given me an objective, but I won't let him dictate to me how to go about it. We'll do both. I'll retrieve Sokolov, while you two find Daud.'

"Oh, I'm being roped into field work now. Great." Meagan rolled her one visible eye.

"Divide and conquer?" Thomas summarised. "I get it, but are you sure it's a good idea? I mean, with your powers back, I'm sure you'll have no trouble with Jindosh. But we're going after one of the most feared men in the isles, and we don't have any magic."

Emily felt a particularly evil smirk form on her face, as she wrote the words 'Not yet.'

The dock area south of Dunwall tower was the busiest it had been since the anniversary, and possibly busier than that. This time, however, it wasn't nobility causing the fracas. Those had all been evacuated from their homes, deeper into the city.

City Watch and Imperial Navy men ran up and down the landing ramps of great metal battleships, carrying supplies back and forth. Overseers stood on stands and preached to crowds of disciples, while officers barked orders from similar podiums down to their soldiers. The sharpening of swords, and the loading and occasional firing of weapons added to the cacophony. And not just pistols; semi-automatic rifles, break-action shotguns. Weapons of war.

In one building, commandeered to serve as a command centre, two men pored over a map of the district.

"You'll have all the arms and ammo you need." Admiral Havelock said. "Some of my men have volunteered to join the assault, too. Beyond that, I can only be of so much help. We're a navy; ill-suited to this kind of work. And as you've said before, shelling the place isn't going to do us much good."

"Especially not while I'm in it." Chuckled High Overseer Martin. "Thank you, Farley. You've done more than enough."

"You're still resolved to lead the attack yourself?" Havelock asked.

"I am."

"Don't be a fool, Teague. You're an old man. Send Jack or Geoff. Or your second, Yul Khulan."

"The Rhymes are needed securing the city. And Khulan is coming with me." Martin sighed, standing up from the map. "But I have to go. The Overseers are frightened, Farley. A coven of witches, in the capital of the empire? It's utterly unheard of. The High Overseer of the Abbey cannot be seen to cower from the backlines while sending his men into the heretics' den."

"Damn you and your charisma…" Havelock groaned. "Fine. But you'd best assure me that you have a plan. A good one, ideally made by someone else."

"What, just because I have no military experience?" Martin chuckled. "It's fairly simple, in truth. We make for the gate. The cannons we've stolen from your ships, we've stuck on wheels, and are taking up to the main entrance. We blow open the main gate, rush in, secure the gardens and exterior. Then split into teams and start cleansing the tower, room by room. We have over two hundred men in total. Unless these witches number a lot higher than we expected, they should be utterly overwhelmed."

"You bringing those music boxes?" Havelock asked.

"Yes, but we're also doing one better." Martin smiled. "We've got loudspeakers in carts, towed by horses, blaring the music even louder. Any witch in range should be completely powerless."

"What about the clockwork soldiers?" Havelock checked.

"No clever strategy for those, I'm afraid. We don't understand them well enough. Prevailing theory is that if we stick at a distance and hit them with enough bullets and grenades, they should go down."

"Simple. I like it. What's your plan for the throne room?" Havelock tapped two key spots on the map of the tower. "Only way up is the single lift. And from what the scouts report, power's out through the whole tower. It's a perfect ambush spot, and that's even if you get it working."

"It's a sticking point." Martin agreed. "We're bringing up tanks of whale oil to restart the building. That should let us get the lift working, as well as broadcast the holy music from the communication tower. But it's going to be a slog, especially if they cut the cords on the lift. Current plan is to start trying to climb up the walls. Or, once the rest of the tower is secure, just wait them out. Turn the palace into their prison."

"See how long they can stay up there with your music blasting in their ears. I can barely stand the stuff for more than a few minutes, and Emily once said it was worse for her…" Havelock looked sad for a moment, then nodded. "Well. Good luck. Ideally, you won't need it. And if you do decide that something requires the application of artillery…"

"I'll let you know." Martin replied, smiling.

"Well well well. Glad to see the Abbey and the Army finally getting along."

That was a new voice, low and gravelly. Havelock and Martin both turned to the door…to see a man with a thick grey moustache and sideburns leaning against the door.

Both immediately recognised Lord Mayhew, Royal Spymaster of Emily's court.

Martin grinned, walking over to him. "Slackjaw, you old bastard! I knew you'd make it out!"

"Aye, good to see you!" Havelock also smiled. "I've been expecting you to show up. You're far too slippery to let that witch catch you."

Slackjaw raised his arms in a warning gesture as Martin approached, his face grim. "Alright, don't get too emotional. I'm here bearing bad news, on behalf of the Empress."

Martin's eyes widened. "You've been in contact with Emily? Where is she? Is she alright?"

"So you've not seen her…probably a good thing." Slackjaw sighed. "Wrong Empress. I'm here on behalf of Empress Delilah Kaldwin, who is currently employing me."

That…took a second to register. Martin exchanged a glance with Havelock, then looked back at Slackjaw's tired face. "You mean…no. You're working for Delilah?"

"What I said, ain't it?" The Spymaster replied, picking at his teeth.

"What the fuck is in your head, you bastard!" Havelock demanded. "Delilah was the one who murdered your daughter!"

"Ramsey murdered my daughter!" Slackjaw snapped, rage burning in his eyes for a moment before quickly being suppressed. "And his brains are already splattered across the tower floors. Now I'm doing the same thing I did with Emily. Finding the most powerful person around and making myself useful."

"You're out of your damn mind." Martin shook his head, stepping back. "Alexi loved Emily. You did too. What would she have to say about you doing this?"

"Probably be mad at her old man. But, she's dead now, so." Slackjaw shrugged—

His head snapped backwards, as Martin's fist cracked into it.

"You piece of shit!" The High Overseer snarled, shaking out his (now bleeding) fist. He was too old to go around punching people, but he found he didn't really care. "Take that back, right now, or I'll just put a bullet in your whore mouth!"

"Heh…nice hook, for a clergyman." Slackjaw rolled his jaw around, making a face. "Think you might have just fixed something, actually."

Martin started moving forwards again, Havelock reached for his sword, but—

"I wouldn't, if I were you." Slackjaw stood back to his full height, staring them both down. "I'm not alone here, if you catch my drift."

Martin grit his teeth, looking around. There was no sign of any witches nearby, but… "What in the Void are you here for, then?"

"To give you both a warning." Slackjaw crossed his arms. "Delilah knows what you're planning to do. You're not exactly being subtle here. You think she's just going to let you get away with it?"

"We're not giving her a choice." Havelock replied, voice level.

"You're not a moron, Havelock, don't pretend to be." Was the Spymaster's quick response. "For the sake of our years working together, I've convinced Delilah to give you both a chance. Cut this off now, go to the tower and swear your fealty to her. She'll let you live."

"Really? You believe that?" Martin scoffed. "Delilah's a maniac, Slackjaw. How long before you end up as another one of those statues?"

"Well, like you said, I'm slippery." The side of Slackjaw's mouth curled upwards. "Come on. You both betrayed Emily once. What's once more?"

Martin shook with rage. "That kind of horse shit is why Emily should never have trusted a criminal like you."

"We're all criminals in someone's eyes, Teague." Slackjaw glanced across at Havelock.

The admiral's eyes were hard. "For the sake of our years working together, I'm not going to put my sword through your chest right here." He declared. "So you can go back to your new Empress, and give her our own ultimatum. Either she comes out and surrenders to the custody of the Abbey, or we come in, butcher her coven, and pay her back tenfold for what she did to us."

"You know you can't kill her, right?" Slackjaw asked, quietly. "Corvo and Emily already tried."

Martin had heard the rumours. "Just because she can't be killed, doesn't mean she can't be contained." Was his reply. "Get out of here, Slackjaw. Don't come back."

"Fair enough." The Spymaster sighed, turning away. "Good luck tomorrow. Oh, and if you do see Emily…apologise on my behalf, alright?"

The whispers running through Emily's head intensified, the knowledge they imparted tickling at the edge of her understanding as they grew louder and louder…

And then it all clicked. And they went silent.

Emily clenched her fist around the rune in her hand, and it crumbled into bone dust.

"You know, it's bloody creepy when you do that." Thomas pointed out. The pair were sat on the deck of the Dreadful Wale. It was evening, the sunset giving everything a frightening red hue. Meagan was stood some distance away, watching them.

'I'm scary.' Emily agreed, smiling.

"So? How does this work?"

In response, Emily just held her hand out.

He looked down at it, raised an eyebrow, and took hold of it. "Careful. Pre-marital handholding? The nobles will talk~"

She rolled her eyes, and focused.

Daud and Delilah had both been able to share their power with underlings loyal to them. He had his Whalers, she had her Brigmore Witches. Emily had never done it herself; at least, not consciously. But during one assassination attempt that had come a little closer than normal, she had felt this sort of…connection blossom with her father, Corvo. And then he had started blinking about and summoning rats like it was the interregnum again.

If I'm going to be taking Delilah down, maybe I ought to have a 'coven' of my own.

She reopened her eyes. This time, with the darkvision active. Everything was lit a sourceless dim blue, but the life forms on the boat shone yellow even through solid wood and metal. Hypatia fussing over Vasco downstairs, her aura still flickering in a slightly strange way, and Meagan, hers weak and subdued. And Thomas…Thomas was glowing the brightest, by far. His aura was warm and excited, it somehow looked like mischief. But when she tried to touch her own to his…something got in the way.

"I've been meaning to ask you." He said, uncertainly. "Why did you never do this before? Giving magic to Corvo, I completely understand. But not me? I mean, I've been cursed before, I know what I'm doing with powers."

Emily bit her lip. There were a few answers to that question. Yes, father was an accident, but I considered trying to give them to Thomas, and didn't. Put off thinking about that too. I suppose, at the end of the day, it was…

With her other hand, she poked him in the chest.

He looked down, and grimaced. "Okay, yes. So the first time I had magic, it was from Granny Rags, and it did almost kill me with the rat plague. But that wouldn't happen with you."

'Certain?' she signed, uncertainly.

"That's why you didn't share it with me? Yes, I'm absolutely certain." He replied. His face was deadly serious. "It's you. You could never hurt me."

Oh, Thomas…

'OK.' She signed. And something slotted into place. Her mark flashed, and through her Void Gaze it was as though the light flowed across into Thomas' hand and across his entire body.

He stiffened briefly, then relaxed, flexing the fingers of his other hand. "Oh. Wow, yeah, there it is."

Emily extricated her fingers from his, and raised an eyebrow.

He grinned, stepped away a few paces—And jumped. The floor shook and he was gone; Emily tracked him as he leapt almost ten metres into the air before landing on top of the driver's cabin.

"Hahah!" He exclaimed, giddily, before blurring again over to one of the masts and then down to the deck.

Emily whistled to get his attention, and tossed him a hagpearl she'd scooped up earlier. Thomas caught it, tested its weight, and then hurled it across the deck. It flew utterly past the Wale, hitting the water's surface dozens of metres away.

"Looks like the power's what I had back when I was a kid!" He called over to her. "Advanced physical strength! Shame, I kind of wanted a tentacle." He glanced across at Meagan. "You want to try?"

"The arcane bond only works when there's genuine loyalty between the marked and their subordinates." Meagan replied, shaking her head. "We're not there yet. Emily, if you can use magic to make a new arm, let me know. Until then, I'll be prepping the skiff."

She started walking away from them.

Thomas sidled closer to Emily, leaned in, and whispered "That's suspicious comment number, like, twelve now. How much you want to bet she used to be a Brigmore Witch?"

Emily considered it, then threw up five fingers.

"Fifty she wasn't?" A nod. "Alright, you're on."

Oh, yeah, we're doing this. Sharing is caring after all.

Emily prepares to game the system and push both her objectives at once. Meagan's being fishy and Thomas is reclaiming the abilities he had in Void Singer.

Meanwhile, Sokolov is making the official Stupidest Joke I've Ever Put In A Fic. I couldn't help myself. I'm sorry. I love that old man.