Chapter 17: VIP
27th of Month of High Cold, 1837
10:11 AM
Another walk through the courtyard, another set of dismissive glances from the guards. Once I'm outside the distillery and at the alley I was ambushed in, I mentally check my route. The Captain's Chair is off Clavering, not far from the last Wall of Light. Maybe. It was a middling apartment building before the Plague, never gave me a reason to pay it much heed. Hopefully there's still a sign for it on the street. The best choice is still to take the same path I used last night, get past the checkpoints, and search from there.
No one or thing bothers me as I walk down the alley and turn before Griff's old shop. The salesman himself is smoking in the same alcove as before with a few crates of supplies beside him. He only nods as I pass and climb the building he leans on. The small rooftop gives me access to the next side street, after I drop onto another water pipe and Blink to the same light pole I used last night. The Watch are as ignorant as before, but there's a new problem: Weepers. I count four on the street below, meandering as a few rats dance between their feet. Two towards the distillery, one almost directly under me, last one close to the sewer entrance.
I focus a Blink at the support beam of Clavering, where it bridges over my street. It will be close, but I think the magic will carry me that far. I close my eyes, focus, and hold my right hand out to grab the ledge. The Marked hand tingles and burns with energy. "Hinc illuc."
Rushing wind, and then more steel under my boots. I look and see I landed on the light pole a few feet short of my target. It seems I overestimated what the spell can manage. I climb onto the beam and Blink further down the street. The nearest Weeper doesn't notice when I drop to the pavement well ahead of her. I look back to the victims and confirm they're far enough to not care about me. The poor bastards aren't friendly, but I've yet to see one go out of their way to attack anyone.
Further down the street, I turn down the same alley that held the fight over coin last night. It seems there are people here again, three voices arguing. I draw my sword and crossbow before approaching quietly. Two guards harassing a woman, badgering her about a vial of elixir.
"Please, it's for my baby! He's sick!" she pleads.
The officers answer with some variant of, "We don't care, hand it over."
As one steps towards the woman, my dart sails into his partner's chest. The first leaps back and looks where the arrow landed instead of where it came from. Rookie mistake. I Blink behind him and choke him with minimal effort. He hits the cobblestone three seconds after the poisoned one.
The woman is too stunned to say anything, only staring at me in disbelief. I attach my crossbow back to my hip and make sure my sword is out of sight. "Stay off the main streets. Weepers are easier to dodge than the Watch," I say calmly.
She nods before breaking free of her shock. "I-I-I don't have anything to give you," she stutters. "The last of my coin went-"
"I'll settle for a question answered." I would be a fool not to take this opportunity. "The Captain's Chair. What's the fastest way there?"
Her surprise is still slowing her, but she's functional enough to think. "From here? Up those stairs. It's right across the street, if you can get past the Watch."
I nod. "Remember what I said. Side streets."
"Wait." As I start to walk away, her hands force a rusted key into mine. "It's the service key for Bunting's house, the art dealer on the main street. I used to work there, before the Plague. He's let all of his servants go, but he's still there. Probably hoping he'll be able to sell something from that safe of his. I don't know what he has left, but it's all I have to offer you."
What are the odds. I stick the key into my pocket, staring at her through the mask. She seems equal parts terrified and amazed by the metal. Or maybe the man behind it.
"Thank you," I say before digging out a vial of elixir, one of the official bottles I stole from Coldridge. "No child should grow up without their mother."
She starts to protest, but I close her hand around the gift. With a slight shove to her shoulder, she understands I'm not accepting a refusal. All she does is nod, then jogs away from Clavering and away from the Weepers. I take a moment to reload my crossbow and check my tools. Six poison darts left, five elixir vials, four of spiritual remedy. Not ideal, but if I carried much more, I would jingle when I walked.
I keep an eye out for the Watch as I creep back onto Clavering. No one in the booth or at the gate to Holger's Square. Three are talking down at the Wall of Light, one tossing rocks into the electricity. I have no witnesses to worry about as I dash across the avenue, find the rotted door that partially spells "The Captain's Chair" in brass letters, and test Slackjaw's key. True to his word, the door opens cleanly. I lock it back behind me, then crouch to listen. Nothing here other than the settling building and a few rodents. I cast Dark Vision to confirm this, then relax a little. My sword and crossbow are still in my grip as I walk through the abandoned building.
The entrance hallway is empty of everything but trash. A few abandoned beds hide behind the somewhat sturdy staircase. The steps don't creak much, only enough to attract the rats upstairs. I walk to the second floor and, seeing them coming towards me, climb onto the handrail. The old wood protests but holds. Two dozen of the big Pandyssian rats barely look twice as they scurry past me: they're smart enough to realize they can't reach up here. I hop down, then continue climbing the stairs. There's another locked door at the top, but one that surrenders to Slackjaw's key.
The rooftop of the Captain's Chair is two stories shorter than the ones flanking it, but there's an easier path ahead. I manage it without Blink, hopping and crouching my way across three other buildings before I spot the Golden Cat. The building's architecture is somehow appealing in spite of what happens behind its closed doors. Its garden is only dead plants, and the gazebo now holds Watch supplies instead of benches, but the building has a certain charm. Lots of ornate windows, vaulted rooftops over the VIP rooms, a scenic view of the river. It's a shame this is what it's used for.
Jessamine hated this place. According to her, the cathouse was a monument to her failures. Women worked here because they had no other options, or because someone else forced them to. No matter how many jobs she created, there were never enough to put the world's oldest profession out of business. And it was no secret the very people who helped govern the Isles were some of its best customers. For all their posturing, they still chose to throw coin at a Madam and keep the place thriving because they refused to ask their wives to be more exotic in the bedroom. Jessamine always said if she could get rid of every brothel in Gristol, she was doing something right as Empress.
I never had the heart to tell her how pointless the thought was. It was like wishing for there to be no need for soldiers, spies, or Royal Protectors: a lovely dream, one the world would never let happen. I supported her and helped when I could, but never got my hopes up. Making the best of the situation, I convinced a guard and one of the courtesans to be our informants. Burrows had more as Spymaster, but I cut out the middle man for these two. It simplified things and turned up enough material to be worth the effort.
Turning my attention to the building, I look for clues to the layout. Three floors and a basement, each floor roughly two stories tall. That would help if the ceilings had any kind of support to hide in, but I'm not holding my breath. Lots of windows, all sealed shut except for one on the right side. The ledge under it's narrow but runs close enough to another building to work. It will let me into the second floor, if I remember the reports correctly. Six guards on patrol outside: one on a balcony, one on the rooftop, and four on the perimeter. None of them have an angle on the neighboring roof I need to reach for the open window. Perfect.
An entire street separates me from the next building, but Blink makes short work of the gap. There's a chimney to hide me from the guards, not that I need it. I stay in a low crouch and move quickly towards the brothel. The rooftops are slanted, but not so much I worry about falling. I reach the ledge without a witness and settle into my silent step. The concrete leads me to my window, which works even better than I planned. Not only is it open and unguarded, it's the higher of the two for this floor. It gives me a nice vantage point for the upper lobby I find myself in.
Voices make me pause. I press myself against the side, so I don't cast a shadow. Watch officer and the Madam, Prudence I think is the name. Sounds like the Pendleton brothers changed rooms recently, without telling their guards. Morgan is somewhere in the lower floors.
"The Steam Room," the Madam clarifies. "Custis is easier to manage. Some nights he just waits in the Smoking room upstairs and talks. It's funny what people will pay for."
As the pair separates, I decide the Madam and her key are my first targets. She doesn't notice the shadow behind her as she walks towards her office just off the stairwell. As soon as she finishes unlocking the door, I knock her out and shove her inside.
There's nothing on her that's worth taking other than the master key. But the room at least bears information. I find the layout of the building in an old map, including modern labels for the rooms. Pendleton number one is on the third floor where the roof forms one of the gorgeous domes. The other is in the basement, by a fountain fueled by the river. The only remaining guests here, Bunting and a Lord Desmond, are in the domed tower and just off the lobby respectively. None of the other special guests should be here before 3. Good: I have time to work.
The dormitory above me is the best candidate for where they'd keep Emily. I take some of the Madam's spiritual solution and lock her in the room for safekeeping. The stairwell is unguarded, but I take it slow with the crossbow ready. I only hear faint movement in the quarters, no more than one or two bodies. Peeking into the first room reveals a lone courtesan enjoying a cigarette. After I put her to sleep, I lay her on one of the beds and cover her in the sheets. She looks to be taking a nap, just in case someone comes up here.
I check the room at the end and ensure it holds nothing but beds. That just leaves the middle room, which is suspiciously locked. I use the Madam's key and slowly creep in. The little furniture in this room, a bed frame, dresser, and some carpet rolls, has been upturned into a small fort. I hear a bit of movement behind it as I lock the door again.
"Who are you?" a familiar voice asks.
My heart catches in my chest as I turn towards the sound, almost praying I'm right.
She's wearing the same outfit as last time, her white dress now stained with time. Her black hair, the same tone as her mother's, needs a good brushing. The only change to her face is the thin layer of dust across her cheeks. There's no mistaking her as anyone other than Emily Kaldwin, even through the worried look she wears now. It almost seems too perfect, too easy to be true.
"Why are you wearing that mask?" She eyes me fearfully, backing up slightly into her fort. I feel anger well up in my chest. Paternal instinct begs I kill whatever's scaring her with my bare hands. It takes me a moment to silence it and remember it's me and my outfit causing it.
I crouch to her level and slide my mask to the top of my head. I watch her face change, the emotions that run across her features in a fraction of a second. First is surprised recognition, as if she didn't expect to know the man behind the metal skull. Then confusion. Probably dissonance from one part of her brain recognizing me, and another saying it can't possibly be. And finally joy. Pure childish joy, almost the same euphoria she wore when I returned to Dunwall.
"Corvo?! Corvo!" She dashes across the floor with a wide smile and open arms. I catch her at her chest and pull her into me. She laughs as she wraps her arms around my neck. A desperate chuckle escapes me as I hug her tightly. Things suddenly feel ok again. Not perfect, far from it. But at least ok.
"They told me you were- Head chopped off, in prison! Dead! Like Mother! But you're not. Dead." She sounds just as relieved as she does shocked. How long have these bastards been lying to her?
I set her down and look at her carefully. No injuries, and she looks healthy. She didn't lose all of the weight I did in Coldridge. But there's a subtle aging on her face. It's in her expression more than anything. She's grown up considerably since they took her from me, a cruelly forced maturity. It's as if her innocence decided to hide itself or is just gone.
Six months. They took six months from us, and they took her mother. They'll pay for this.
"I'm not dead, Emily," I say softly. "They lied to you. And I'm going to fix this. Are you ready to leave?"
"Yes, yes! I have a plan. I almost got away twice!" she hurriedly announces with a smile. "There's a special door to come and go, for special people. I'll show you. And if anyone tries to stop us, you can fight them." The last statement hurts something inside, only making me angrier. The Pendletons may both leave here short a kneecap.
"Where is it?" I ask, gently pushing her away from the door.
She doesn't stop bouncing. "Downstairs, all the way to the street. We just need that mean old Madam's key, and we can get away!"
I nod, thinking ahead and glad I already grabbed that key. "Don't worry, I have it. We-"
Trying to get to the door again, Emily almost pushes past me. "What are we waiting for?! We can go now, Corvo! That lock was the only thing stopping me!"
"Stop."
It's been months since I've had to use that voice. The parenting tone, a stern and fatherly "listen to me." It surprises me when it sneaks out, almost as much as when I grab Emily's arm. Nowhere near enough to hurt her, but enough to get her attention. She stops her bouncing and looks to me with fear in her eyes. That scares me the most. It used to take doing that two or three times before getting her to listen, to pierce the veil of her childish excitement. Do I scare her now? Or have these last six months made her more afraid of everything?
"Listen, Emily," I say with a softer tone, making the conscious effort to not do that again. "We have to be careful. No one can see us leaving. You said the exit is down the stairs, at the bottom?"
She nods slowly, relaxing bit by bit.
"Stay behind me until we get to the door. If I go the wrong way, tap my back. But you must stay silent, Emily. I promise if you help me, I'll take you somewhere safe. Can you do that for me?"
A bit of her childish fun comes back for a moment. She halfway smiles, then turns the key in the invisible lock at the corner of her mouth.
"Good girl." I kiss her forehead and give her a final hug before sliding the mask back on.
I don't have to motion for her to get behind me as I open the door. My crossbow ready, I check both sides of the hallway before stepping out. Emily isn't as practiced as me at staying silent, but her light feet make little noise. I stay in a crouch slightly taller than her, letting Dark Vision point out anyone who would interrupt us.
At the Madam's floor, the guard she spoke with is making the rounds near the stairwell. I pause at the top of the staircase with my bolt pointed at her outline. Emily stays close behind me, barely breathing. After a minute, she moves to the other side of the lobby. I reach back and gently tug Emily's arm to follow. I only barely hear her steps, not enough sound for any of the guards to notice.
The floor below has a dressing room for the courtesans. They're prettying themselves up for the approaching customers, enjoying their cigarettes while they can. Their mirrors are too dirty to expose us as we pass the room without a sound.
Finally, reaching the bottom floor, the stairway opens to an alley. Emily nudges my back, trying to urge me on rather than redirect me. We're still slow and careful entering the alley, but it proves to be in vain. There's no one here to notice us other than a crate of elixir from Bottle Street. I can guess that arrangement.
"Where are we going?" Emily asks, joining my side as I unlock the VIP door.
I point vaguely towards the river. "Clavering. We have to reach a friend there with a boat."
"Is he taking us back to the Tower?"
Poking my head into the entrance, I realize it's a sewer, an upper level that stays dry until a storm comes. Maybe this will lead to that door I passed before, the one surrounded by Weepers.
I sigh quietly to myself. "No, Emily. Not yet. I have some things to do first. But soon."
"Ok..." I can hear her disappointed grumble, but she seems to accept it as fact. "Do we have to go through this stinky old tunnel?"
"It was your idea. And it smells better than Hagfish surprise." My terrible joke earns a small laugh from her. It's something. "Until I say, you still need to stay quiet. No one can see you, not even the Watch. Only my friend and I can know you're leaving, ok? I'll explain soon."
The mask doesn't seem to help, but Emily doesn't show as much fear as before. Only confusion. I see her start to ask a question, but it disappears before she can say it. "I can do that. You'll protect me if we have to fight anyone, right?"
I hug her again, cinching it as tight as I can without hurting her. "With my life."
I realize I was right less than a dozen meters into the tunnels. These sewers don't go below at all and are almost dry. We spot remnants of other people living here at one time or another without the owners themselves. The path is mostly straight, and I can see the light of the exit not far ahead. It's through the slits of a wood wall, mere blocks from where we started. And it seems to be about where I imagined it would be.
Suddenly, we hear singing. The voice makes the hairs on the back of my neck stand, and I push Emily directly behind me. My crossbow is pointed straight ahead as we approach, my eyes watching for movement. Getting closer, I spot a small fire heating a pot, and I finally recognize the voice from within. Granny Rags has found a new home to hibernate in.
It's not until we're almost in the ramshackle kitchen that we see the witch herself. Frail-looking and blind, the old woman's hands are bent into claws from arthritis. Her clothes barely have any of the sewer muck on them, but from her book shelves and cooking set up, I'd guess she's been here for a few days. She's busying herself cutting vegetables. The stew cooking in the pot smells wrong: not burnt, not disgusting, just wrong. My arrow never leaves her as I sidestep around the room, Emily shielded behind me.
My foot nudges a cup on the floor, and Granny Rags turns towards it. "Is that you, dearie?" she asks sweetly, looking vaguely in my direction.
Her icy eyes can't work, but I can't shake the feeling she's staring at something I can't see. Maybe the Outsider lets her see the Void while she's awake and took her normal sight as a trade. Or perhaps she has some other power: I've heard her teleport like the Whalers at least once. That's more than enough reason to keep Emily behind me and away from the old crone.
We don't stop in our silent circling of the room, keeping our distance. Granny Rags only asks who it is once more before going back to her stew. We find the stairs out of her hole seconds later and put a wall between us quickly. That path puts us in the entrance to the sewer I saw before, no more than thirty meters from the open metal panel. I listen ahead for Weepers and find no telltale moans or insect buzzing. Dark Vision finds nothing as well, and we move forward slowly. I find myself worrying about what exactly was in that pot.
Back on the side streets, the area is mostly abandoned. The foot patrols on the avenue above echo ominously but seem unaware of our presence. That's the good news. However, this is where I dropped from a rooftop onto a light pole. And without taking our chances in more uncharted sewers, getting back up there is our best way to Clavering...
Blink is the only option then. Carrying Emily shouldn't be a problem, since I've already done it with Geoff's body. It's just a matter of her not noticing the black magic.
"We're almost there, you're doing great," I say, crouching down to her level again.
She looks to me with a small smile. "I knew I would."
"And what made you so sure of yourself?"
"I had a great teacher."
Now it's my turn to laugh. "I doubt Amata would agree with you. She hated our little sneaking games, didn't she?"
"Yeah..." she says, her smile fading a little. "Do you think she misses me, Corvo? I've never been away from the Tower for so long before."
I take her hand and pull her slightly towards me. The mask seems to scare her a little, but she comes without much resistance. If I trusted these streets, I would take it off to remind her who is under it. But not yet.
"I'm sure she does. Almost as much as I missed you." And then, realizing my best chance to make this work, I add, "The sooner we get to my friend, the sooner you can ask her yourself. Think you can help?"
As always, involving her in my plans makes her perk up a little. "What can I do?"
"I have to climb that wall, and I need you to hold onto me while I do it. We'll be there in no time if you can keep your eyes closed."
She stares at me with that usual childish curiosity. "Heights don't scare me. Why do I have to close my eyes?"
"Because of all the dust," I quickly lie. "My mask will protect my eyes, but not yours. It'll only take a minute, I promise."
"Fine," she grumbles and steps in to hug me. Her arms and legs wrap around my torso, fingers latching onto the back of my bandoleer. She buries her face inside of my coat, almost muffling her complaint of, "I wanted to see the top."
I find myself laughing as my right arm secures her to my chest. Quietly muttering the spell, I Blink onto the water pipe without a sound. A second Blink gets us onto the rooftop. Emily cinches onto me without budging, and barely seems to have noticed we've moved. I mimic a climbing motion with my arms, adding appropriate grunts as needed to sell the lie.
Already preparing for the inevitable migraine and exhaustion, I Blink above Griff into the storage room I fought the assassins in, to the alley's archway, and finally down onto the street. I'm still standing after all of this, but only barely: my vision is a blur of lights and swirls. I take one of Piero's solutions and drink this as fast as the one before. The blue fluid clears my sight and head instantly.
I take another minute to mime my performance for Emily. Finally, through the exhaustion, I say, "It's a short walk from here. Can you let go now?"
She hesitates for a few moments before I feel her grip loosen. One of her hands clenches mine as she lowers herself and looks up with a small smile. Cracks are starting to show in her facade of childish excitement. She's trying to prove how tough she is, to hide that she's still scared. She truly is Jessamine's daughter. My guess is she won't admit anything's bothering her until tonight.
"Thank you, Corvo," she whispers.
Gripping her hand in my own, I give her another one-armed hug before leading her down to the dock. No guards here, and the Watch Tower is still only scanning the street. Samuel smiles and waves as he sees us approach. Emily looks to me for instructions as we near the boatman.
"This is my friend, Samuel. He's going to take us in his boat," I explain softly.
She loses her nervousness instantly. The bouncy little girl I remember is back, running to old man without hesitation. "Hi! Are you a sailor?"
"I am, little lady," he smiles, bending down to her level. "I've been one most of my life."
"Have you ever seen any sea monsters? Or Tyvia? I heard there's a bunch of weird animals and people over there."
He lets out a hearty laugh that's a bit loud for comfort. "I have plenty of stories to share, about monsters and everywhere I've been. How about I talk to Corvo for a minute, then I can tell them to you?"
She nods, still smiling, and steps aside for the sailor. He bows theatrically before approaching.
"Still working on the Pendletons. I wasn't going to leave her there," I explain calmly, quiet enough Emily can't hear.
"Wasn't going to say anything. I'm just glad we got her back," he whispers sincerely. "Did you find another way, or..."
"Slackjaw, once I do a favor for him. If all goes well, it shouldn't take much more than an hour."
"Do you trust him?"
"He knows what will happen if he doesn't follow through. I'll watch the pick-up, then we'll go back to the pub. Can you take care of her until then, please?"
He laughs honestly, and again, the sound makes me worried. "Don't worry, I'll keep an eye on the little lady. Any preferences on the stories I tell her?"
"Anything with giant squids," I say, remembering all of the story books Jessamine had for her. We had an entire shelf dedicated to Emily's sea stories in the Tower's library. "Squids or crustaceans: she thinks they're invincible in their shells."
"She's smart, then. I'll let you say goodbye. I know the two of you missed each other terribly."
I nod to Samuel, then step past him. Emily has started amusing herself with a stick in the small cooking fire. She's had a touch of pyromania since she was born, somehow both adorable and terrifying.
"Emily, I need a favor from you," I ask softly, taking my mask off.
She puts the torch down, understanding this isn't a time for games. There's that adult worry in her, the part of her that grew up since I've been gone. She doesn't deserve to be like this: she's too young to not still be innocent. Am I angry at Burrow's goons for taking that away, or just angry I missed that part of her life?
But she still smiles, still shows there's a bit of that little girl buried in there. "What is it?"
I pat her shoulder. "I have one more job I need to do before we leave. Samuel is old and has trouble getting around: can you keep him company until I get back?"
"You're going to be sneaking around again, aren't you?" Her mother had the same smirk when she called me out on my bullshit.
I want to laugh at the comparison, but that requires vividly remembering Jessamine. I'm not there yet. "Yes, I am. I have one last errand. It's important, and it will make sure the men who took you never hurt anyone again. So please... can you stay here with Samuel until I get back?"
"How long will you be gone?" The desperation in her voice almost hurts to hear.
"An hour, two at most." I try my best to sugarcoat it. "Once that's done, we'll leave together. We can have a big lunch together where I've been staying. I'll even get those apple tarts you love so much. Is that a deal?"
She hugs me unexpectedly, striking right at my heartstrings. As she buries her head into my shirt, I can't bring myself to do anything but hug her too.
"Promise you'll come back," she asks softly. No crying or shaking this time. Just a quiet, desperate pleading. "Promise, you won't be gone a minute longer than you have to."
All I can do is hold her and whisper, "I promise, Emily. No one is keeping us apart again."
The little girl leans back and looks at me with a tiny smile. "I will hold you to that."
"I expect nothing less. Don't give Samuel too much trouble, please. He can't chase you down like I can."
That gets her to laugh. She gives me another quick hug before getting up and darting towards Samuel, who's been sitting on his boat. Finding a seat on the craft, she starts to bombard him with pleas for sea stories. He laughs while giving me a knowing nod. "Go, I've got this," it says.
Some odd impulse rushes across my mind. I try fighting it for a few moments, but decide I should give in sooner rather than later. I reach into my pocket and pull out her Heart. She stays still in my hand, not sensing any charms nearby.
I point her towards Emily and give a gentle squeeze. Jessamine's voice speaks in the back of my mind.
She hides her fears. She seeks someone to trust.
Hopefully, Samuel and I will give her that again. She doesn't deserve this. She shouldn't have to be as worried as she is, or have suffered the way she did... I'm trying to make this right. For both of you.
Then I angle towards Samuel and apply the same slight pressure.
The boatman has a good heart. And he respects you.
That will have to do for now, then. If he passes Jessamine's inspection, he can be trusted more than most. I hate leaving her alone, but she should be happy with him for now. It's the best I can do.
Emily looks over and gives another quick wave goodbye. I do the same, and slowly return Jessamine's Heart to my pocket. She does nothing to show she can see it, and neither does Samuel. That doesn't surprise me, for some reason. Like I knew I was the only one who could really see her. Another bullet point on the list of "things I'm not sure how to feel about."
I slide my mask back on, and mentally prepare myself again. Now to earn a crime lord's favor with robbery.
Whoo, my caffeine lasted long enough for me to finish this chapter before the sun rose. I now work half evening shifts, half overnights, so my sleep schedule is... confused, to put it politely. But it gives me time to work on these little projects and nerd things (such as trying to repair a laptop held together with electrical tape), so I can't complain. Just taking a little getting used to.
Anyway, felt good to get this one out. Don't know why, but I couldn't get that wall climb scene to jive for the life of me. Ended up rewriting it like three times before I picked this version, and that was still before any edits to make it readable. But I kept at it, and I'm decently happy with the end product. Whoo being stubborn!
We'll see how my schedule goes with when the next chapter rolls out, or if there's even a side project thing like D&D before I start working on it. See how it goes. This week is going to be weird with my birthday, so... we'll see! You'll still get something to enjoy sooner or later! Hang in there, minions! ~MGA