Chapter Nein:
Ice Haven
*danny devito voice* Can I offer you a chapter nein in this trying time?
…
Caleb stepped on to the upper deck and shielded his eyes from the glare of the setting sun. It burned low in the sky, partially obscured by the black jagged mountain that pierced its heart. Beside him, Nott gasped at the view.
The Yohimbe bobbed in a boiling lake. Thick hissing steam swirled off the bubbling surface, trapping the dying light in a thick golden fog. The shadows of other nearby boats slipped in and out of the haze like phantoms.
Crew members bustled around them, jumping off the deck to the dock below and shouting instructions at each other so thick in slang it might as well have been a foreign tongue. Dockhands circled the edge of the boat like vultures, tying the Yohimbe down with dense knots and trading comments with the deckhands that barely rose above the low roar of the city. By dusk the noise-level in most cities began to drop, but Ice Haven seemed to be just waking up.
The land before them rose upwards, and a dark city sprung from the mist. It loomed over them and trapped the last of the sunlight behind dense, spiked buildings. Ice Haven was built inside a massive crater, boiling lake at its epicenter. The higher the buildings sat on the slope, the more ornate they became. At the edge of the crater, jutting into the sky above all others, rose an imperial building with decorated spires and sharp, tiered roofs.
"Do you think that's it? Where she lives?" Nott breathed, bobbing her head towards the building.
Caleb gave a noncommittal hum that came out in a puff of hot air.
In the murky dusk, the assumed-palace cast a long shadow that stretched across the city, seeming to end right at their feet in a pointed spike. Caleb's stomach churned in unease.
Fjord stepped up onto the main deck followed by a sleepy Beau. The sight and the cold struck them dumb for a brief moment before Beau filled the frozen air with several choice expletives. She shoved her hands in her armpits and clenched her jaw to keep her teeth from chattering.
A shivering Fjord came to stand next to Caleb and Nott, still blinking at the scene surrounding them. "Sure is somethin', huh?" he asked, running his hands through his hair as he tried to gather his bearings.
"We've been in bigger cities before," Caleb reminded both Fjord and his own uneasy gut. They had taken on greater challenges before and won. They'd held their own against a battalion of soldiers in the heart of Xhorhas for god's sake. His chest tightened as he thought of Jester. That day's victory had come at great cost. But no, this was different. No more dead tieflings. They'd find a healer soon. Things would be fine.
Another silence passed between the four as they tried to digest the sight before them.
Captain Whitney passed by, and noticing their awe, she paused. Crossing her tattooed biceps, she took a moment to regard the city with a bored, sweeping gaze before looking back to them. "Well, we made it," she said at last, "mostly in one piece. This is where my job ends. My crew's gotta haul some cargo to The Tipsy Seal, and you're welcome to join em', but after that I'm afraid you're on your own."
"Any tips or pointers you can give us? In regard to Ice Haven?" Fjord asked.
Whitney gave each of them an appraising look before speaking. "This city...has an undertow," she said, considering her words. "Watch your step. Even when everything seems safe. Because the minute—the second—you don't, that's when it'll pull you under. Got it?"
"Anything less metaphorical?" Beau asked with a frown.
Whitney shot her a scowl. The crew flowed around them, laden with heavy cargo towards unknown destinations and shouting instructions at each other. Caleb had to focus to hear what Whitney said next.
"There's a lot of good and a lot of bad in this city. You'll find the Gentleman's name doesn't carry as much weight as it does in Zadash. Be careful who you trust," she said before straightening. "And don't stand under the icicles," she added, a smirk flickering across her face.
"Any idea where the closest temple or place of healing is?" Fjord asked.
"I mean, in Ice Haven you're never more than a stone's throw away from one, but you probably won't find any staffed tonight," she said.
"Why's that?" Nott asked. "Are they on strike?"
Whitney scanned them with a look of confusion, trying to decipher if she was the butt of a joke. "It's the twenty-second," she said at last.
Oh.
Caleb sucked in a breath so cold it made his teeth ache before exhaling slowly. "Well, happy Civilization's Dawn, everyone."
Beau cursed and Fjord just shook his head. As if navigating a foreign city after sunset wasn't difficult enough, why not add a major holiday for an extra challenge?
Caleb sighed, rubbing his face with his frozen fingers. Trying to find a healer under the circumstances would likely be an exercise in futility. Why, oh why hadn't he figured out a way to press-gang Caduceus into their merry band this time around?
After a conversation cut short due to both the urgency of their circumstances and the biting chill, the Mighty Nein resolved to help their injured tieflings to The Tipsy Seal and seek medical attention from there.
While the party worked on gathering up Jester and Molly's things, Caleb took a moment to take the illegal books and stash them back inside the crate of apples. He buried the black book last, frowning at it as it was swallowed by fruit. Hopefully its new owner liked poorly-written tragedies.
Yasha elected to carry the semi-lucid Jester bridal style with the large haversack swung across her back while Fjord and Beau would help Molly hobble off the boat as best they could. Caleb let Frumpkin hop onto his shoulders, and Nott finished securing the last of her belongings to her person.
They met the crew members Whitney designated above board, who waited for them with arms loaded with crates. After a couple exchanged nods of acknowledgment, the crew led them towards the gangplank.
Their line of people disembarked the boat and was plunged into Ice Haven's narrow streets, thick with ruddy-faced strangers. They heard the signs of Civilization's Dawn before they saw them. Loud shouting and the crackling of bonfires clouded the air—Caleb might've thought the city was under attack if the din of drunken singing didn't constantly rise above the chaos. People of every species flooded the roads, too drunk to remember not to stare at their bizarre procession. Caleb and Nott watched them with wary eyes, and Nott's hand rested on her crossbow.
The further they walked from the boiling lake, the more aggressive the cold became. It ripped at every exposed inch of skin and sent a jab of pain through his nose that was so sharp it felt like he'd been punched. Clouds of incense-laden smoke filled the streets, left an acidic taste on his tongue, and dried out the back of his throat.
Molly's foot slipped on an icy step, and he teetered on the edge about to drag Fjord backward with him, but Beau pulled them forward. After grimacing through the pain, Molly managed to hiss out a 'thanks', but put less weight on his wounded ankle from then on.
Caleb fought back to urge to call up and ask the crew members how much further they had to go.
They passed a square full of dancing figures, distorted by the smoke and heat of the fire they danced around. The light of the flame stained the snow and ice around them a brutal crimson. Dizzying shadows played at the edges of their vision, casting malformed humanoid shapes across Ice Haven's odd, square geometry. Caleb spent the entire journey looking for ghouls in the winding alleys, only passively noting the mild improvement in the quality of the buildings as they progressed deeper into the heart of Ice Haven.
After a twenty-minute slog through the winding city, they rounded a corner to find The Tipsy Seal wedged between two nicer buildings. Its door hung open letting a stream of stumbling patrons in and out. A wooden sign announcing the name swayed in the wind—paint cracking off to reveal flecks of an older paint job beneath.
Their weary procession wove through the river of patrons and circled around back where a young tiefling, probably only seventeen or eighteen by Caleb's estimate, greeted them.
"Well, took you guys long enough," she said to the crew members. She dusted her hands off on her apron and planted them on her hips. Her clothes were worn at the joints and she reeked of wine, but her irisless eyes were bright and focused. A bandana held her hair back and two horns sprung from sloppily cut holes. They curved inwards at the tips, like candles melted under the sun.
Her gaze drifted past the deckhands to the Mighty Nein, and her eyes widened. "Oh," she gasped and padded forward to stand in the midst of them, taking the motley group in with wide eyes. "You must be the reinforcements. We've been waiting for you for days now, you must come with me," she said, grabbing Nott by the hand and pulling her forward before anyone could get a word out.
Caleb stayed close behind, stepping into the warm interior of the inn with the rest of the party on his heels. The heat and smell of cooked food washed over him like a balm, releasing a fraction of the tension he permanently stored in his shoulders.
"Valentine, delivery's here!" the tiefling girl called over the chaos of the narrow kitchen where two sweat-drenched chefs labored away over the stoves. She led the procession through the space, weaving through a maze of open crates and bulging sacks, and stepping over a pile of chicken bones on the way.
They broke free from the kitchen and emerged into the main belly of the inn, where red-nosed patrons swarmed at the bar and reclined in every available seat. The tiefling girl looked behind her shoulder at the Mighty Nein and called out something, but the sound of her voice was drowned out by the roar of the crowd. She nodded her head towards another nearby archway and tugged Nott along.
The opening led to a small room, half full of crates and barrels, with a table shoved off in the corner.
"Sorry, about that," she said now that she could be heard and finally released Nott's hand. "I figured you would be hungry after your journey. Come sit, please—oh," she paused, finally noticing the state of Jester and Mollymauk.
Nott jumped back to Caleb's side while Fjord slipped free of Molly's arm and stepped forward, clearing his throat. "Um, nice to meet you, we're the Mighty Nein. I believe you've been expecting up for a couple days, but right now we could really use some healing for our friends," he said, nodding back at them.
"Oh, yes, yes! Forgive me for asking, but just how badly injured are they?" she asked, peaking around Fjord's frame. "Because it might be tricky to find a healer tonight."
Fjord looked back at Jester and Molly then grimaced. "Well, sooner would definitely be better than later."
"We keep some herbs on hand that can help with fever or pain, so if you have any of those problems we might be able to make some tea and help a little?" she said, then glanced through the open door to the crowded tavern beyond. Her eyes flicked back to Fjord and her voice dropped into a more serious tone. "You can try and find a healer tonight, but the only way would be to search the streets, and it can be dangerous to explore Ice Haven at night if you aren't familiar with it."
Fjord sighed and rubbed the back of his neck. "Molly? Jester? What do you think?"
"Tea sounds nice," Jester said, words slurred from drowsiness.
"I can hold out for a couple more hours," Molly said.
"I'm really sorry," the tiefling girl said with an earnest frown puckering her lips, "We thought you were coming a couple days ago, so we aren't the best prepared for you tonight. I can send for a healer in the morning if you'd like?"
"Yeah, we'd appreciate that," Fjord said. "Thank you, uh…"
"Oh!" she blinked in surprise, then extended a hand. "Sorry, I'm Love—Love Saewen. My mother owns the inn," she said and nodded at the roaming crowd behind them. Caleb glanced backward but failed to spot anyone that quite matched Love's pink complexion or poof rosy hair in the horde.
After a brief round of introductions, the Mighty Nein settled around the table while Love provided first tea and then a passable dinner meal. As she turned around to let them dine in peace, Fjord called out to her.
"Sorry—before you go do you know if our…friend who was supposed to meet us is here?" he asked.
Love snuck a glance at the crowd again before stepping closer and perching on the edge of the table where she could speak more quietly.
"Yes, Lox is still here. They were getting worried you wouldn't show. I think they stepped out for the evening though," she said.
"I thought you said it was dangerous to wander Ice Haven at night," Caleb said, looking up from his soup.
Love shrugged. "It is. But Lox usually does that."
Caleb prodded at a mystery chunk floating in his soup. So the person they'd been sent to protect was either an idiot or very talented in escaping danger. By the way the Gentleman described Lox earlier, Caleb was inclined to think both.
Love excused herself to return to her work, leaving the Mighty Nein with their soup. Caleb polished his off quickly, and Nott beside him chugged all the broth in one go to the group's horror and amazement. It tasted earthy and warm, and Caleb didn't care that he couldn't identify half the ingredients—not after a week and a half of eating cold rations.
Molly worked at his soup more slowly, murmured quiet assurances to Yasha that he was alright. The sound of his rattling lungs signaled otherwise.
Jester barely managed a spoonful before she nodded off, slumping onto Fjord. This time it didn't seem to be a ploy.
"Hey, now, not yet," he said, nudging her awake.
She withdrew, blinking sleepily at him.
"You can go to bed soon, but you gotta eat some more," he said, pushing her bowl towards her.
She nodded and managed several more spoonfuls before her eyelids began to droop again.
Caleb stared at his empty bowl, feeling the worry in the room thicken. Dawn couldn't come soon enough.
They finished their meal, and after Beau flagged down Love, she showed them to their rooms upstairs. They were cramped but clean. A chill draft radiated from the cracks in the windowpane, and a layer of frost obscured the view, so Caleb could only see his own tired reflection in the firelight. A rug, worn through near the simmering hearth attempted to help insulate the frigid space. However, neither the rug nor the hearth gave him as much comfort as the stack of down blankets piled on the bed.
The other party members broke off to their rooms, and for a moment Caleb felt pulled to check on Jester and Molly, but he stopped himself. What could he do? Nothing. He couldn't even offer the entertainment of reading aloud anymore. They'd finished the book and packed all of them back in their crate.
Caleb collapsed in bed, Nott sunk down at his side, and Frumpkin settled between them. Caleb's joints throbbed, and the cold instilled a deep ache in his limbs even the soup hadn't shaken. Despite the anxieties wiggling at the edge of his consciousness, he felt his grip on reality start to fade. He absently noted Nott was murmuring something to him, but before he could put more thought into it sleep dragged him under and stole him away.
His dreams were filled with young wizards who went too far. Death, shadows, and reflections, men and monsters, liches, and stories without happy endings.
…
The bleached dawn spread across the sky and reflected off the ice, lighting the interior of the room and waking Caleb up far too early. The covers trapped their body heat, so only Caleb's face was exposed to the stinging morning air. It would be so easy to fall back asleep, but there was work to be done. He slipped out of bed and stoked the fire, pulling on his boots to help warm his toes.
After readying himself for the day in silence, he turned to the mound of blankets and set about unearthing Nott.
"What? What is it?" she asked, cracking an eyelid to watch Caleb with a sliver of gold iris while holding back a yawn.
"Good morning," he said.
"Five more minutes," she murmured and rolled over, nestling deeper in the blankets.
"Not today. We've got errands to run, remember?"
At that she succumbed to her yawn, flashing her jagged teeth, and pushed herself up to a sitting position. After a little more insistent encouragement, she too began to ready herself for the day. During the process, she opened her mouth several times to speak but was unable to. Something about the winter's stillness discouraged it. After the chaos of last night, the silence of this morning felt surreal and fragile. Like any moment it would shatter and the revelry would continue.
After Nott finished readying, they left their room. Caleb knocked quietly on Fjord and Molly's door. After several minutes of soft rustling, Fjord answered, looking rather sleep-deprived.
"How is he?" Caleb asked, glancing around Fjord.
Mollymauk was curled in the bed, his back to them, but Caleb could see the shallow rise and fall of his ribcage.
Fjord shrugged then sighed. "Still breathing."
They left Molly to his rest, and the three of them headed towards the girl's room. Caleb knocked several times without answer, so Nott stepped forward to finesse the lock. The door popped open to reveal the three women tangled in a pile on the bed. Caleb idly wondered if Jester's illness was contagious and if sleeping next to her was a risk, but at this point, all they could do was wait and see.
Beau and Yasha rose slowly, and given Jester's condition, Yasha elected to watch over her while the rest of the party sought help. So, in a silent line, Caleb, Nott, Fjord, and Beau, made their way downstairs.
The pub space below was empty save for two lone figures. An elven woman with unruly white hair swept up crumbs from the evening prior. The blue-tinge to her skin made her look frostbitten and the faint signs of age creased her face. She looked up, noticing them in surprise.
"Morning," Fjord murmured, acknowledging her with a nod.
"Morning," she returned. "Love told me you got in. She's off fetching a healer now," she said, broom hoovering frozen an inch above the floor. "I'm Rose." She turned to the figure at the bar. "Valentine, can you start on breakfast?"
Behind the bar, an ambiguously middle-aged elven man paused wiping down the counter to look up at them. He had a droopy face, a vacant expression, and skin such a deep blue-grey for a moment Caleb wondered if he was part Xhorhasian. After a pause he nodded and vanished off to the kitchen, leaving the room even stiller than it was previously.
Rose returned to sweeping up the remnants of last night's festivities. In the tranquility of the morning, only the scattered trash around the edges of the inn reminded them last night's celebrations hadn't been a dream.
Without anything to do but wait for Love or breakfast to arrive, the four of them seated themselves at the bar.
Nott chewed on her lip, playing with a ring with an unfocused gaze.
What was on her mind? Was it something beyond the immediate mission and the health of their companions? Perhaps he should broach the subject later. She was always so attentive to his needs and too often did he fail to return the favor.
He fell into their comfortable rhythm so naturally it was easy to forget the current Nott didn't have years of built-up relationship like he did. He'd known and loved her for sixteen years. She'd known him for six months, but she already loved him anyways.
He didn't deserve her.
Caleb took a shaky breath, focusing on his hands in his lap.
He couldn't give her what she wanted. Their goals conflicted. Anything he could do for her he would ultimately undo. The future Nott realized this. They had their falling out. She left with Beau and Yasha. He stayed.
Those last several months holed up in the castle, knee-deep in rotting spell books and diamonds, were the coldest of Caleb's life.
Maybe it was for the best that she wasn't there when he made his jump. He unwrote her. Could he look her in the eyes while he did so?
It didn't matter. This wasn't a question of what he wanted. It never was.
Before Caleb could continue to stew in his misery, the door opened with a gust of wind and Love stepped in, towing a dragonborn in robes behind her and breaking the morning's spell of silence.
She padded over to them with a crooked grin, trailing snowflakes in her wake, and introduced the man as a priest of Bahamut. Without delay, they abandoned the bar and walked the priest upstairs to Jester's room.
Yasha rose as they entered, and the priest pushed through to the front. He surveyed Jester with a frown and lightly pressed his scaled knuckles against her forehead. Jester groaned in her sleep but didn't wake.
"How long as she been like this?" the priest asked.
"Uhhh..." Fjord looked around at the rest of the group for the answer.
"Twelve days," Caleb said.
The priest tutted and turned back to Jester. He sank to his knees at her bedside, bowing his head low and appealing to Bahamut to heal the sorry soul before him. Warm magic fizzled through the air, radiating from the priest in waves. Jester's face relaxed, and with every rise and fall of her chest, the wet sound in her lungs faded. The spell ended and the priest stood.
"She'll need some sleep, but she'll be fine," he said.
The room sighed, looking around at each other with relieved gazes.
"Be watchful that she doesn't catch anything that bad again. Even the greatest of warriors can be killed by colds in Ice Haven," he said. "Now, take me to the next one."
When they opened the door, Molly sat up waiting for them, breathing shallowly with a sheen of sweat on his brow.
"Good morning. How are you feeling?" the priest asked, walking to him.
"Oh, absolutely terrible if we're being frank," he said with a wry smile he couldn't hold for long. His voice had a rough quality from something beyond tiredness.
Upon the cleric's request, Molly removed his shirt and Caleb's eyes widened. The bruise on his side had blossomed into a black, angry stain on his lavender skin, laced with a web of dark veins.
Fjord whistled and shook his head. "That does not look like a fun time, Molly."
Molly gave a little laugh. "You know it really—hey, shit," he hissed as the priest prodded the wound.
After a couple of mumbled notes, the priest moved on to Molly's ankle, but Caleb couldn't wrench his eyes from the bruise. His ribs had to be at least cracked, maybe worse for his breathing to sound like that. Why hadn't he told anyone? They couldn't have done anything different really, but still...
Caleb had spent hours at his side reading, but Molly hadn't mentioned it once.
Obviously, he owed no one an explanation, but why then was the idea of him keeping his pain hidden so disquieting?
Caleb frowned, toeing the floor with his boot. Admittedly, there were times when his negative emotions came first in the heat of the moment, and he had to work backward through the threads of trauma to find their source, but this present unease was difficult to trace.
The priest once again sunk to his knees in prayer, and Caleb boxed that particular emotional knot and shelved it for later with all the others. The comforting hum of healing magic filled the room, and Molly's swollen ankle shrunk back to its original size. The bruise on his ribs faded as the blood dispersed back into vessels. With a 'crack', his rib popped back into place.
"Okay, that smarts," Molly hissed. Color flooded back to his face, painting him his usual vivacious purple. Under the influence of the healing magic, even his hair seemed to perk up, falling back into its casual, beachy waves. Fully rejuvenated, he stuck out like a glittering, rainbow sore thumb in Ice Haven's array of greys and faded browns.
Caleb let out a sigh, letting more of the tension leave his body. Now, this was the Mollymauk crystalized in his memory. Confident, handsome, and vibrant. Not a shadow of the pale man he buried years ago.
"Alright," the priest said, dusting off his hands as he rose. "By the power of Bahamut, you have been healed. Rejoice in his mercy."
"Absolutely. Will do," Molly said with a grin.
The priest nodded and turned, pushing through the rest of the Mighty Nein, but pausing once he reached the door. "And, if I may off some advice?"
"Yeah, go ahead," Beau said.
He scanned them with a raised brow. "Maybe think about finding a healer to travel with you for these situations. That's what most adventurers do."
"Cool. Thanks for the advice. Bye now," Beau said, closing the door on him.
"Tactfully done, Beau," Fjord said, shaking his head.
Molly shrugged his shirt back on and began relacing his boots. "So, what's the plan?"
…
The Mighty Nein, minus Jester, found their way downstairs just as the bartender, Valentine, emerged with several steaming plates. They settled themselves back at the bar, feeling much lighter all around.
"So you guys are the one's working with Lox, huh?" Valentine asked, watching them scarf down braised sausage with tired eyes.
Fjord looked up, then looked to Caleb in question, who looked to Fjord, shrugging.
"Oh, it's cool. We're, like, in the know," Valentine assured them with a painfully exaggerated wink.
Love leaned over the bar, cupping her full cheeks in her hands. "Yeah, yeah, The Gen—"
"Love, discretion, my dear," Rose called from a couple yards away before returning to her sweeping.
"Hold on, I may have something that can keep us from being overheard," Caleb said and put a hand in his component bag to rummage around.
"Oh, that's probably not necessary," Rose said, "Most people won't be up until noon today after the night they've had. As long as we're careful with our word choices, we'll be fine," she said, sending Love a pointed gaze before looking back to Caleb. "But a word of warning, son. There are places in Ice Haven not so friendly to magic. I'd be careful about using spells so freely," she said.
Caleb frowned. "What do you mean?"
Love jumped in. "Oh, Tomoe hates magic," she whispered conspiratorially. "So lots of places around the palace and the nobles' houses have runes that dispel it. Or at least alert them when it's being used."
Well shit.
"Tomoe is the countess, then?" Fjord asked.
Love cocked her head and quirked her lip in a frown. "He really didn't give you much information, did he?"
"No," Caleb said. His throat felt dry.
"Tomoe Heinai is the Countess of Ice Haven," Love said, "There was a coup years ago led by mages. They almost killed her, so she's been cautious ever since."
Shit. That was bad news. But he wasn't just any ordinary wizard. Maybe with some of his more powerful spells, there were ways to nullify that or at least skirt around it.
"The Countess, she's excitable then?" Caleb asked. "You've met her?"
Love gave them another confused look. "I work at the palace. I'm helping Lox with…the business they have here. I thought you knew that's why you were sent here?"
"Listen," Beau said, thrusting her plate at Valentine for more braised sausage, "The Gent—our business partner," she corrected, "didn't tell us much of anything. All we know is that Ice Haven sucks, and we're supposed to protect Lox or whoever from like muggers and bandits while they work on the job."
"I mean, I guess that's the general gist of it?" Love said with a shrug. "As far as the question about Tomoe goes," she looked to Caleb, "She's…nice? A little scary, but nice?" she said, biting her lip to think on it.
"Could you maybe explain a little more?" Yasha prompted.
"She keeps the Empire off our back, but she doesn't take any shit," Valentine said as he brought back Beau's plate filled with more sausage.
"How dangerous is she?" Caleb asked.
Love and Valentine looked at each other. "Well," Love started, "she's not, like, mean to the people here or anything, but it'd be good if she didn't find out what we were up to. But that's what Lox is for."
"And where is this Lox we keep hearing about?" Fjord asked.
"I saw them go out last night," Love said, looking to Valentine in question.
He shrugged. "Dunno. I don't think they came back yet, but to be fair, not many people ended up in their own beds, if you catch my drift," he said, giving another overexaggerated wink, just to make sure the Mighty Nein caught on.
"Damn, it sounds like we missed quite a party," Molly said with a wistful sigh, twirling his fork between his fingers.
"Should we be worried? About Lox? That's why we were sent here after all. Our business partner said Ice Haven itself was dangerous," Fjord said.
Love hummed, tilting her head from side to side while she thought. "Well, you have to be careful about the cold, but there's also a lot of different…factions here to watch out for," she said, slowly picking out the word.
"Gangs, you mean," Nott supplied.
"The like to be called merchant guilds," Valentine said. "But yeah, if the shoe fits…"
"These gangs, they give people trouble? Civilians?" Molly asked.
"They like to try and keep to themselves, but that doesn't stop people from going missing sometimes. But that happens in most cities, doesn't it?" Love asked, scanning the group with her milky white eyes wide in genuine question.
Caleb prodded at his last chunk of sausage. People did go missing in every big city, but that still didn't bode well. "Well, we need supplies today, ya?" he asked the group, "Maybe we keep an eye out for this Lox person while we're out?"
"Yeah, that sounds like a plan," Beau said. "What do they look like?" she asked Love.
"Oh, they had a really pretty blue cape with embroidery at the top," Love said with a grin, eyes drifting off as she thought about it.
"How about a physical description?" Fjord asked.
"Bronze eyepatch," Valentine added. "Bird engraved on the front."
"No, I mean like, a physical description," Fjord said gesturing to his body as if it'd help. "Race, hair color, things like that."
"Human with brown hair," Valentine said.
Love frowned. "I thought they were an elf with black hair?"
"Maybe a half-elf?" Valentine suggested.
"Yeah," Love said turning back to the Mighty Nein, "Probably a half-elf."
"Somehow that's not very reassuring," Nott said, kicking her dangling feet.
"Bronze eyepatch, got it," Molly said.
The Mighty Nein finished up breakfast and made themselves a shopping list, complete with shop recommendations and a set of confusing directions drawn on napkins from Love and Valentine. Fjord excused himself from the errand to stay behind and keep an eye on Jester. It certainly had nothing to do with his distaste for shopping and the cold, no sir. Still, Caleb commanded Frumpkin to stay behind with the duo just in case.
So, after everyone bundled themselves up as best they could, Molly, Yasha, Beau, Nott, and Caleb stood by the front door, reviewing the list one last time. Around them sleepy patrons finally began to filter down, making their way to the bar like sleepwalkers and filled the space with murmured conversation.
"We can probably spilt up to cover more ground," Molly said, handing the list to Yasha without looking at it himself.
"Yeah, that worked well last time," Yasha said, giving him one of her soft smiles.
"Oh, come now," Molly said, "Who's going to try and start something with you next to me?"
"He's got a point," Nott said.
Yasha sighed and wrapped a thick arm around his shoulder. "I guess."
He leaned into her easily, looping an arm around her waist. "So me and Yasha take the west market and you three take the east?" he asked, eyebrows raised.
"Why do I feel like you plan on causing mischief?" Caleb asked, giving him a skeptical look but was unable to keep a smirk from pulling at the corner of his mouth.
"Me? No, never," Molly said, matching Caleb's smirk with a twinkle in his eye that suggested the opposite.
Beau cleared her throat. "Okay, so are we going now or what?"
They stepped out of The Tipsy Seal where frigid temperatures and lazy, drifting snowflakes greeted them. The fresh snow crunched under their feet as the two groups prepared to part ways. Beau and Nott turned to walk away, but Caleb paused.
"Molly?" he asked, voice manifesting in the frozen air in a puff of fog.
"Hm?" Molly looked to him with curious eyes.
"Um, be careful…this time, ya?" he asked, suddenly feeling oddly self-conscious.
Molly studied him for a fraction of a second with a shade of confusion passing over him before a smile took its place. But it wasn't one of Molly's standard crooked grins or the wide, toothy ones meant to sell something. It was small and quiet, leaving just the ghost of a dimple on his tattooed cheek.
"Can do," he said quietly.
Caleb stood there, feeling like he needed to respond, but the words evaded him.
"Come on, Widogast," Beau called, dragging him away.
He let her do it, trying not to look to hard into the oddness of that last exhcnage.
As they approached the Ice Haven market, the streets began to fill, and and grew loud with chatter. They reached the entrance of the market to find a long street thick with people with shops on either side. Strings of red lanterns crisscrossed the way, giving color to the frosted world. Raised braziers held glowing embers to keep the merchants warm. They passed silvery hare pelts, trays of horse hearts, and fish frozen so stiff they stuck straight out of their baskets like macabre bouquets.
Despite the chaos, they managed to hunt down an herbal shop to replace what they'd used from Jester's store and a clothing shop where underprepared tourists, like themselves, could buy more insulated clothing for an exorbitant markup. Caleb managed to bid the shopkeep down slightly, and they were able to walk away with fur-lined coats for Beau, Fjord, Nott, along with a set of thick child-sized boots for Nott's exposed toes.
"I don't like them," she announced as she walked stiff-legged down the street.
"I know, but if you don't wear them your toes will get cold and fall off," he reminded her.
"I can't grip—" Nott started, but Beau cut her off.
"Woah, check that shit out," she said, nodding towards the end of the block. An ornate, three-level building sprung from the icy mist. It had several decorative spires topped with bizarre, onion-shaped domes in a variety of colors and patterns.
"What do you think that is?" Nott asked, already moving towards it.
"I don't know, but we're gonna find out," Beau said and jogged ahead.
Nott and Caleb trailed behind at a slower, but still brisk pace.
He felt a small, cold hand wrap around his own, and he looked down to find Nott watching him with a conflicted look on her face.
Caleb paused by the mouth of an alley, pulling them a step or two away from the flow of traffic. "Is there something the matter? You need to wear boots but—"
"It's not that," she said, looking at the shrinking Beauregard then up at him. "I've…" she trailed off and frowned, considering her words.
That was uncharacteristic. Was this serious?
"You know I care about you, right?" she finally said.
That statement sent shivers down his spine and set him on edge. No good conversation ever started this way. He swallowed, eyeing her cautiously. "Yeah. Yeah, I know."
"So then…" she held his hand tight, "if something was going on you'd tell me, right?" she asked, looking up at him with her wide owl eyes.
Oh.
Cool guilt tied his guts into knots, but he forced his face and tone to stay neutral. "Yeah. Of course. Remember what I said? We're in this together, you and me, right?" he said, hating every poisonous word as it fell from his mouth.
She regarded him them, scanning his face for answers. With a sigh, she looked away, withdrawing her hand from his. "Yeah. I remember."
Caleb opened his mouth then closed it. What else could he say? Just regurgitate old lines from when he still believed that was true? Back when he thought they could both benefit from each other? But it wasn't like that. He was a parasite. The world's biggest tapeworm leeching of her kindness until he got what he wanted and discarded her.
At least when Trent used people he used his underlings. Not his friends.
"Guys, guys," cut Beau's voice through his fog of self-loathing. "I don't usually go for this kind of stuff, but you've got to see this."
She towed them the rest of the way to the fancy building and threw open the door, revealing a sight so wonderous it managed to push Caleb's guilt back for a moment.
The shop had an open floor plan and a three-story high ceiling to accommodate the shelves upon shelves of potion bottles. The shelving along the sides ran the full length of the wall, complete with sliding ladders to give customers access to the top rows. The bottles came in every size, shape, and color. At head-height to Caleb's left sat a shelf of amber potions the size of a thimble, while in the center of the shop rested a massive, glittering bottle, six feet tall and filled with a churning red liquid. The air was thick with scents, mostly earthy and sweet.
"Welcome to Ms. Washmiggle's Potion Emporium," called a plump halfling woman from across the shop.
Caleb blinked, taking a moment to gather his bearings. By the time he collected himself, Nott vanished from his side, running down the aisles with the light from the bottles glittering in her eyes.
He sighed, rubbing his face with his hands. What was he going to do about Nott? Maybe all he could hope for was Ice Haven to provide enough distractions to keep her mind off of him.
He felt a warm hand on his shoulder. "Hey man, you alright?" Beau asked.
"Just fine," he said, pulling away from her and making a beeline for the nearest unoccupied aisle. He spent the duration of their visit circling his friends to avoid them.
Half an hour later, Nott made her way to the counter, carrying an armful of potions and alchemy supplies. She dumped her stash out before her, and the halfling started to add up the total.
Caleb sighed and squared his shoulders. He couldn't keep avoiding her—that would only make her more suspicious. He stepped forward, putting down a couple of gold pieces.
She looked up at him, scooping the potions into her bag before Caleb could mentally inventory all of it. "Caleb? I've got it, really."
"I know," he said, resting a hand on her shoulder giving what he hoped was a reassuring squeeze. He turned to the halfling and pushed his gold forward. "Are there any bookstores around here?"
The closest bookstore wasn't the largest in Ice Haven, according to Ms. Washmiggle, but it was large enough for Caleb to lose himself in the dusty aisles. He ran a hand along the worn spines and breathed in that familiar papery smell that suffused so much of his life.
Beau waited by the door, flirting poorly with the red-headed clerk, while Nott silently bobbed along at his side, watching him examine the books with curiosity.
The store's selection of books on magic was measly at best, but now that he'd achieved his goal and wasn't hunting a specific type of magic, he could just study whatever he fancied. With that in mind, he pulled a thin tome on divination and headed for fiction. The bookstore was small enough that they didn't separate their genre fiction and their regular fiction, making for an eclectic mix of titles:
'The Temptations of Lord Laughshield'
'The Cleric Murders'
'Eggs, Ogre Easy'
'Caratra Darksbane and the Temple of Terror'
'Sixteen Princes and a Midwife'
He paused, pulling the last one off the shelf and flipping it over to read the synopsis. Apparently, through some sequence of events, a put-upon midwife had become responsible for helping a bunch of spoiled princes escape the country after the monarchy was overthrown. Hijinks ensued. It sounded ridiculous but still self-aware and entertaining. After the last book they'd read, he craved a little light reading.
His friends would like this one more too. Not that the situation to read to them would present itself again. What would Molly think of this choice? He always had such unexpected insights. His commentary on this one—a bunch of people trying to scam their way out of the country—would be fascinating.
Caleb added 'Sixteen Princes and a Midwife' to his stack before he could stop himself. He shouldn't. He needed to pinch pennies. Especially after paying for part of Nott's alchemy to mend that bridge. But when he put the books down on the counter, and the clerk nodded at 'Sixteen Princes and a Midwife' and said it was a fun read, he couldn't swallow down the excitement simmering in his stomach.
This was just in case. Molly seemed to enjoy being read to. What if he brought it up and all Caleb had on him was his boring books on magic? Besides, Mollymauk for all his virtues—and vices—didn't seem like the erudite type, so this budding interest in books was something to be encouraged, right?
This way he'd be prepared. Just in case.
Feeling more excited than he had any right to be, Caleb left the shop with Nott trailing behind.
"Wait," Nott said, pulling Caleb by his jacket and breaking him out of his book club reverie. "Beau' still back there," she said, pointing a thumb over her shoulder.
Through the window he could see Beau leaned over the counter, talking to the clerk again. He sighed and leaned back against the wall at the mouth of the nearest alley. "This shouldn't take long," he murmured, leaning his head back to look at the clouded sky above.
"Caleb?" Nott asked, but there was something serious and firm in her voice.
Caleb gaze flicked to her and he pushed himself off the wall, realizing too late he'd let himself be cornered alone again. "Uh, Yeah? What's up?" he asked, trying to casually edge his way towards to street to be more in the public eye.
Nott blocked him, crossing her arms. "Caleb," she said, tone so serious it made him pause. "I know something's wrong. I know you've been hiding something from me. And I—"
"You're wrong, Nott," he cut her off. He couldn't do this. They couldn't do this.
"I'm not wrong," she said, stepping closer and raising her voice a notch.
"You don't know what you're talking about," he said, narrowing his eyes and keeping his voice cool.
"You say we're in this together but won't tell me anything," she said, taking another step forward. He took a step back. She continued, "You've got to—"
"I don't have to do anything because there's nothing wrong," he hissed. "You're imagining things."
"I'm not!"
"You are!" he said, throwing his hands up in the air. "You're always—!" but he bit off the insult before the venom could leave his tongue. He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose and counting to five.
"Caleb, we need to talk about this—" she said.
He felt the anger boil up again, so he spun on his heels and marched in the other direction down the alley. He wasn't doing this. He wasn't going to fight with her. Not a second time.
The freezing air stung at the sweat beading on his forehead, and he shoved his hands in his pockets. He needed to be better. Nott was already seeing through him and he wasn't close enough to his goal yet. He couldn't let a lifetime of work fall apart now. No matter how vile it made him feel or who it hurt.
Something squished under his boot, and he looked down to find the snow beneath it stained crimson. He followed the trail of blood with his eyes to a nearby figure, stuffed behind a barrel and out of view from the passing populace on the street beyond. A cruel spear pinned them through the chest and into the wall, and their jet-black eyes were vacant and focusless.
A pale changeling slumped dead before him, complete with blue cape and bronze eyepatch.
…
Caleb: *is worried for the people he cares about*
Caleb: Is this the trauma talking?
As always, your guys' consistent support and encouragement both baffles and delights me. I feel very lucky to have such kind people engaging with my story.
Commenters are the hydrangeas in my garden, the rain on my summer nights, the croutons in my salad.