Chapter 20: Good Enough For Now
27th of Month of High Cold, 1837
1:24 PM
"De La Poer still swears the tentacle wrapped around the entire ship, but I say it only reached the water on the other side," Samuel recounts, hushing his voice, but not his enthusiasm. "It was still big enough to start pulling us under. We tried to shoot it, but all of the rocking had our cannonballs rolling across the deck. Thompson was desperate enough, he started loading one with his lucky knives."
Emily smiles and pulls at my sleeve. "This is my favorite part. Wait for it." She didn't need to be told to keep her voice down. She simply understood it when the rest of us refused to speak above a whisper.
Samuel leans in close. He looks around, pretending someone's trying to listen to his secret. "I only saw it for a moment. I had been drinking that night, and the moon was lost behind the clouds. But I know what I saw... It was a shark. Not a normal shark, no. This one...
"WAS GIANT!" His shout is barely above speaking tone. But the energy he puts into it makes both of us jump a little. It doesn't help he lunges at Emily with his arms spread.
Emily scrambles back for a second, clasping her hands over her mouth to keep herself silent. I suppress my laughter, though under the mask, I suppose I hardly look different.
Samuel settles back into his seat. The smile on his face matches his quiet laughter. "Imagine how I felt seeing it in person."
"Tell him what happens next," Emily pleads, climbing back into her seat.
"Its red eyes met mine as it rose over our ship," he narrates. He's returned to his quiet, brooding tone. "When it opened its mouth, I saw more teeth than there are guardsmen in Dunwall, on a jaw that could have swallowed us whole.
"I don't know why, but it chose to save us. It sunk all those giant teeth into the side of the Kraken, ripped it off our boat, and dragged it below. We put our sails to the wind and prayed it would take us home faster than they would chase. I still say we only escaped because they decided we weren't worth the effort, or maybe because they hated each other more than us. But it was enough to reach home, without a whale or fish to show for it. Only a story none of us wanted to share."
Emily claps quietly, but quickly. If that doesn't show her enthusiasm, her grin does. I allow a polite clap.
He bows. "I'm happy to entertain, Lady Emily. Do you think I spooked Corvo under that scary mask of his?"
"He'll never admit it," she laughs. "Corvo pretends that nothing scares him."
"And you have proof otherwise?" I challenge. I scan the water again, making sure nothing is close enough to recognize us. No ships on the water, no pedestrians on the shore. We're safe for now.
"What about my Gristol Dolls?"
I chuckle. "I kick one toy across the hall..."
"Dolls scared our Lord Protector?" Samuel laughs.
Emily proudly raises her hand. "I helped!"
"I told her that I didn't like the eyes of one of them," I explain. "It reminded me the stories of witchcraft I grew up with in Serkonos. One where a man was trapped in a doll, a killer before a witch locked him in as punishment. He gained control and started murdering children, just as he did before."
"So I started moving it when Corvo wasn't looking." If only she took such pride in her schoolwork.
The boatman laughs aloud this time, ignoring our muted caution. "You are a brilliant and evil, Lady Emily."
"I started with little changes, like different shelves in my room or in different clothes. When Corvo asked me, I said that happened while I was asleep," she proclaims.
"You forget the week I spent checking your room for intruders because of that," I remind.
She continues, "And then I started giving her things, like maps and books. I tried to make it seem like she was planning to sneak out of the Tower and go live in the city. He really didn't like that."
"Is that when he kicked the doll?" Samuel asks, still smiling.
"No," I say. "I locked it in a trunk on the top of her bookcase."
The child smiles again. "He thought I couldn't reach her up there, but he didn't know how good I was at climbing. Or that I knew he and Mother always smoked cigars in her room at night. So I got out the doll, covered her in strawberry jam, and gave her a knife outside of Mother's bedroom."
Now the boatman is really laughing.
"I didn't know a doll could be kicked so far," she grins at me. "But Corvo really made her fly."
"I'm glad you found it so entertaining," I grumble, making sure I don't sound too serious.
As the laughter settles, Emily's stare focuses on me. She's given me that look before, almost always before she asks a difficult question. Why politics are so complicated, where babies come from, why her family lives in such a nice tower over others.
"Corvo," she says quietly, coming back into the muted tone we held before. "Why are we sneaking away from the Watch? I thought they were supposed to help us."
A question I suspected would come, but never prepared for. Samuel adjusts in his seat, trying to distance himself. "Because, Emily... they've been lied to. They think I kidnapped you and killed your mother."
She stomps in her seat. "They're wrong! You tried to save Mother!" she proclaims.
"They don't know that," I say, trying to keep my anger from seeping into my words. "The Spymaster, Burrows, hired the man who took you and blamed me for it. Without a witness, I couldn't prove him wrong."
She settles a little, the rage in her eyes not burning quite as brightly. "Then I'll help. We'll go to the Tower, and I'll tell them what really happened. The guards can arrest him and throw him in jail!"
"It won't work. Burrows is still lying to them, and we don't have proof. He'll just say I tricked you, or had someone else hide you while I was in Coldridge. It's..." I pause for a moment, trying to work out the details of my analogy. "Imagine if your mother told you for years that you were allergic to pears. If someone else showed up and said you weren't, who would you believe?"
Her mood visibly changes again. The anger subsides into understanding, then sorrow. She's almost fully realized our problem. "Do we have to run away now? Are we going to live in Tyvia or Morley?"
"We are not running. We are putting you back on the throne, after we deal with Burrows and his assassin. We just need to prove it was him," I explain. "That's what I'm trying to do. If we can prove it was him and keep his allies from defending him, he won't be Regent anymore. Then you can be Empress, like you should be, and prove I'm innocent."
"Are you going to kill them, Corvo?" she asks slowly. "The Spymaster, and his friends? Or the man who killed Mother?"
I sigh, trying to choose my words carefully. Emily's innocent eyes stare up at my mask, almost fixated on it. It's unnerving. "I've avoided killing anyone so far. Campbell is exiled from the Abbey, and the Pendletons are slaves in their own silver mine. Those were the best punishments I could manage for what they did to us. I would like to do something similar to the others. But if they leave me no choice, I will. Whatever it takes to put you back on the throne, and to make sure they never hurt us again."
She actually seems proud of me during the first part. That fades as I bring up the punishments and the possibility of killing them. But she seems to understand the score. She realizes this is something serious, where people are going to die or suffer regardless.
She reaches across the seat and hugs my chest. "Thank you for saving me," she whispers. "I hated that place, and those mean old brothers."
I gently rub her back. "There's no need for thanks. We're together again: that's all that matters. No one will take you away from me again, Emily."
Another tightening of the hug from her, and this time I reciprocate.
"Is the Hound Pits nice?" she asks innocently. "Is it big?"
"Almost as big as the Golden Cat, and you can explore every inch. You'll get the tour when we get there, after Wallace makes us both lunch. A real one, with due respect to Samuel."
"I think my pride will recover," he jokes. "We should be back in a half hour or so. A proper meal should be waiting for us when we arrive."
Emily perks up when food is mentioned. "Will there be any strawberry tarts there? I miss those."
"If there aren't there any today, we'll make sure someone bakes them tomorrow."
Her smile reaches both ears.
We pass the remainder of the ride working to bait Samuel's fishing lines in quiet. I scan the horizon every few minutes, trying to keep my paranoia hidden from Emily. She shouldn't have to worry about being safe, though she likely already knows how delicate our house of cards really is. Other than her small outbursts, she's kept her voice down without being told. I doubt Samuel mentioned it, and I know I didn't. She's always been more observant than most realize.
The pub comes into view no more than twenty minutes later. As we drift past the debris in the water, I take my mask off. Emily says nothing, but her smile shows she's relieved to see me again.
The servants are all waiting for us as Samuel pulls us in. Emily grips my hand when the boat slows. I give her a nudge of the shoulder and a smile. It seems to settle her when our ride stops. We stand together, and I help her onto solid land.
Only one of the party steps forward with a bow. "Young Lady Emily, I'm Callista. I'll be caring for you and schooling you while you're with us," she says pleasantly.
Emily returns with a proper curtsey. "Pleased to meet you." Cecelia isn't down here with the rest of them. It further confirms she's an outcast of this group, for some unspoken reason.
"As am I. Would you like to see your room, in the tower?" Callista points toward the old stone structure behind Piero's workshop. The bridge to the higher level seems to have had some work done while I was away, and looks more sturdy.
"Um..." Emily quietly mutters. She looks to me with hesitation, mirroring my own thoughts.
I spot Havelock waiting at the top of the stairs. Whatever he wants to discuss, Emily has no business hearing. It would only stress her further.
"Callista is one of the good ones," I whisper to Emily, bending down to her. "Remember the Watch Captain Curnow? This is his niece. She'll give you a tour while I find lunch. Is that ok?"
All it took was a bit of reaffirmation to bring back the happy child she was a moment ago. She smiles again, then looks to her temporary caretaker. "Can I see it?"
"Yes, you may," Callista nods happily. "You'll get to see it all, the entirety of the Hound Pits."
"Good... I think I'll like it here." Emily gives me a brief hug and a, "I'll see you later, Corvo," before she follows.
I pat her shoulder as she goes, and watch the servants leave with their newest guest. Havelock nods, passing unobtrusively on the side. His smile speaks to a good mood.
"You do not fail to impress," he says, reaching to shake my hand.
I accept and allow a small smile myself. "You haven't seen what I can manage when I can plan."
He nods proudly. "In one day, you've done more than most men do in a lifetime. Armed with a blade, you changed the course of the city forever."
Along with Piero's tools and magic from the Outsider, I mentally add. But I hold my now-feigned smile.
"I need to speak with you soon. But for now, Lord Pendleton requires your attention," the Admiral explains. "He should be in front of the tower. Please, meet me and Martin in the bar when you're done."
"Will do." I watch as he approaches the corner of the dock and perpares his pipe. He loads it with a minimal amount of tobacco. He doesn't expect the conversation to last long.
I walk up the stairs, through the alley between the bar and workshop, and towards the tower. Not a soul, animal or human, to be seen on the street leading to the bar. Good. I turn back towards the river and the tower. A small cloud of smoke drifts around the side of the building, leaving a clear trail to Pendleton.
I find myself feeling for my blade one last time as I round the corner. Only the side of the noble's face is visible from here, but it's enough to show the trouble on his mind. Considering he believes his brothers are dead, I'm hardly surprised.
He notices me and turns to face. The hand not holding a cigar instead has a wine glass missing several sips. "Corvo, the Loyalist Conspiracy thanks you for your work. I don't know if I can. My own brothers..." He pauses, likely for effect and considering his words.
A dramatic interruption would be perfect, if only to throw something unexpected in his face. Add, "are unhappily alive," to that sentence, and Pendleton would have a fit. There are few things that would make me happier than watching that...
No. He would try to do something stupid, like rescue his brothers. There is no scenario where that ends well. Better to let him think they're gone. I'll consider telling him after this is all over.
Trevor finally comes out of his stupor and continues his speech. "We never believed you killed the Empress. It made much more sense that the Royal Spymaster, now Lord Regent, was behind it, aided by some of his key allies. We spent a lot of money and exposed ourselves to a great risk in getting you out of prison."
"Are you expecting a 'thank you?'" I ask. "I'm not in the mood to give one, Trevor."
"Wh-what I want..." he stutters, before stopping to take a sip of his drink. He sounded angry for a moment, or maybe just surprised someone beneath him isn't licking his boots. But he regains his composure. "I'm expecting you to understand what we went through to save you. To understand that we took a very large gamble on you. But we did it because we believe you're the one that can make the difference. We believed that before, and I definitely so now."
"Congratulations." Few things irritate me like an aristocrat fishing for commendation. As if they deserve a medal for doing something with their money other than wasting it.
The drink has made Pendleton brave. He steps up to me, trying to stare me down to his level three inches below me. "Mind your tone, Attano. One call to the Watch, and you'll be back in Coldridge, waiting for the gallows."
I straighten up, arms still crossed as I look down at him. "Mind yours, before I toss you down the stairs like I did your brother."
The comment is meant to remind him of the day I threw Custis out of the Tower for harassing Jessamine, but Trevor might think I'm referencing how I killed him today. Either way, he backs down. Still angry and hurt, but not suicidal.
He turns back towards the water, smoking and drinking again. "Havelock is looking for you. I suggest you meet with him."
Satisfied, I turn back towards the pub. Glad to know my ability to piss off nobles didn't get rusty in Coldridge.
As I pass the workshop again, I stop and place another order with Piero. My collection of coin is enough for the materials to make another dozen sleep darts, as well as specialty parts he wanted for the scope in my mask. He promises to install the upgrade this evening if I leave it with him after dinner.
The inventor gives me a gift before I leave: five already prepared darts and a note he intended to leave in my room. His "old friend at the Academy" appreciated the weepers I captured in the sewers. She has already promised to "handle the situation as humanely as possible," and Piero vouches that she means it. Not that I envy the victims, but at least they can die with pain medication now. I thank him before heading into the pub.
The servants and the tacticians are all in the bar. Wallace is working as a cook and bartender while Lydia sweeps the floor with a hum in her breath. Cecelia is awkwardly serving Martin and Havelock their drinks and meals in one of the booths. The soldiers of the group are talking quietly enough I can't understand more than a few words. All I can gather is something about Campbell's black book and the power hidden within its pages.
Havelock notices my approach and nods. Martin seems more tired than enthusiastic to see me.
"Alright, my friend. Martin has devised our next move," the Admiral explains, gesturing to the seat beside him.
I politely choose to stand. After a few silent moments, Havelock catches on and continues. "There's a footnote in Campbell's journal that tells us the Lord Regent's mistress sat for a portrait with Sokolov, the painter and Royal Physician. He'll be able to give us her name."
"Why is the mistress a target?" I ask pointedly. "I don't need help to get the Regent in the Tower. And if you're planning on taking her hostage to draw him out, I can already tell you that plan will backfire."
"We need the mistress to bring down the last of the Lord Regent's support," Martin explains through a cup of coffee. "The blockade around Dunwall has made all business dry up, and the treasury isn't going to last forever. Whoever she is, she's helping pay the bills for the Watch, the whale oil, everything keeping his regime running. No one will want to help him if he can't pay them for their work."
Another beam holding Burrows up. I can't imagine he has too many left to stand on, now with the Overseers and Parliament firmly out of his reach. Soon, everything holding him up will be gone. Then it will be just me, him, and a very sharp blade.
"Less guards on the payroll would be nice," I say, then motion for Havelock to continue. The look on his face says he obviously has more to say.
He nods. "Sokolov lives on Kaldwin's bridge about half of the time, out over the river. I'm afraid the catch is you've got to head out right away, while Sokolov is at his apartment on the Bridge. Samuel can get you close, but you'll have to find Sokolov. Bring him back here, intact, and it'll enable us to make our next move."
"Do we know when he's leaving his apartment? It helps if I know the time frame I have to work in." My mind is already thinking of several things at once. Probable guard numbers, what the half-constructed bridge will look like during curfew, the security devices in the way. The inventor's toys will be more of an obstacle than the soldiers.
"Typically, he leaves a few hours after dinner," Martin replies. "He likes to eat, set his experiments to brew while he's gone, and then go to the Academy for several days. With all of the geniuses and aristocrats there, the sheer amount of guards will make him untouchable."
I start to form rough plans and guess at the details in my mind. They're little more than vague assumptions, but they all imply that this will be easier than they worry. And assumptions that support an ulterior motive. "Then we have some time. At least enough for lunch before I go."
The Overseer starts to argue with me. I stop him with a hand before he utters his first word. "Let me rephrase that. I have spent six months in Coldridge worrying about the girl I rescued not three hours ago. I am eating lunch with her and ensuring she is tended to before I do anything else. If you want me to leave sooner, cook us a meal now and get Samuel a map and pencil for when I leave."
I don't feel like dealing with them and simply walk away from the conspirators. As I reach the stairwell going up, I hear Havelock asking Wallace to heat lunch from earlier. That went well enough. I'll be polite later and make up for my short temper. But I really am hungry, and I refuse to leave without explaining to Emily what's happening.
Taking the stairs two at a time, I quickly decide to check out the rooms of my companions. Pendleton's comes first, with its spotless furniture and perfectly folded sheets. There are a few scraps of food on the ground by his desk from breakfast, but nothing else in the room gathers interest: no damning diary, letter, or audiograph this time. He's not stupid enough to leave evidence of his thoughts all the time.
Havelock has lost his audiograph machine as well, but he left his log book. The latest entry is only minimally about me: there's more of a focus on Pendleton "serving up his own flesh and blood to the cause." Then a bit about ends justifying the means, how "every loyal watchman that falls beneath Corvo's blade is giving his life for the Empire." Behind the pretty language hides the military assumption that collateral damage is unavoidable. I wonder what he'll do when he realizes I haven't killed anyone yet.
Seeing nothing else around the room, I head further upstairs to my attic. The walkway from the window has a new handrail on one side, and most of the smaller holes have been patched. The sheet metal only slightly bends beneath me as I walk across it, and my usually quiet steps keep me from making much sound. There's only one turn in the path on the way to the stone tower that, I assume, used to be some kind of lighthouse. Time has clearly ruined its functionality, but it's still relatively pretty with its white stone exterior.
I come to the door that's Emily's new room and pause for a moment. Before I can knock, I hear voices, and curiosity takes over.
Callista's voice is noticeable first. "Of course. We can give you the tour later, when you've rested."
"I was wondering..." Emily now. "Do you think my mother is really dead? I saw her get stabbed, but maybe she was alive and got better. Is that possible?"
I find myself biting my lip, wondering how I would answer in Callista's place. Would I even be able to? Could I manage to tell her anything, cruel truth or well meaning lie?
But Callista handles it better than myself. She sighs and slightly lowers her tone. "I'm sorry, Emily, but no. She did not survive."
Emily's voice drops too, as that little bit of hope she held out dies."Oh... Did you go to her funeral? Was it fancy and beautiful?"
"A train of carriages rode through the city. It was very beautiful. Flowers everywhere, and thousands of people wept because they will miss her." Her voice carries a certain joy, buried beneath the layers of sorrow. I can't tell if it's a facade for Emily's sake, or if the funeral helped her cope with the bitterness of Jessamine's death. It's odd to hear someone else mourning her, someone who never knew her like Emily and I did.
"I wish I could've seen it," Emily says quietly.
I finally force myself to knock as Callista begins to speak. I open the door slowly and peer in. "How is the tour coming along? Do you like your room?"
Emily, sitting cross legged in the floor with a book, looks up with a smile. "I do. This place isn't as pretty as the Golden Cat, but I like it better anyway."
"You say that before you've tried Wallace's cooking. Then you'll love it," I say, patting her on the shoulder. "Would you care to join me for lunch?"
"As soon as I finish this chapter. It's just getting good." Her eyes dive back into the pages, all but forgetting I'm in the room with her. The brief snippet I read seems to be something about tales of pirates. I'm not surprised that's more important than food.
Looking around the room, I find it acceptable for Emily to spend a few nights in. They reinvigorated the wood flooring with a sanding and coat of stain. The window to the river lets in a gentle breeze, but has a shutter for the cooler nights. Then the stove in the corner takes care of heating. Emily has her choice of two twin beds, both with neatly made sheets obviously donated by Pendleton. A work desk and chair has several pieces of paper and pens ready for lessons, and a book case has a healthy stash for her. It will do for now.
"I've been planning for Emily," Callista explains as I look over the desk. "Lesson plans are together. A schedule is prepared. We will make life as normal as possible here."
The soon to be Empress gives a small laugh under her breath.
"No hiding from your tutors, Emily," I remind her.
Callista eyes me curiously. "Was that a common occurrence at the Tower?"
"Only when she decided that week's lesson was too boring for her."
Emily closes her book dramatically and stands. "Ready!"
"Shall I escort you to lunch, Lady Emily?" I ask, formally presenting a hand for her to hold. She accepts it with a smile, then leads us back down to the main room of the pub.
Wallace made good use of the time I gave him and has two plates ready for us in a booth. The meal is two small cuts of steak, matched with some roasted vegetables and seasoned potatoes. Water is the only drink ready, but I hear the sound of a kettle somewhere behind the bar. Clearly they were hiding the good food until royalty joined the Loyalists' ranks.
Emily takes her seat opposite of me, and wastes no time digging into her potatoes. I pick at my steak slowly, quietly debating how full I want my stomach to be when I attempt a kidnapping. Callista leaves us to get her own meal from the other end of the bar. I briefly check to see if Havelock is here to rush us into leaving, but he's decided to give us some space. Smart choice.
"How are you and Callista getting along?" I ask, jabbing a fork into my vegetables.
Emily smiles and wipes her mouth before answering. Not all of her etiquette training was lost. "I like her. She likes stories about pirates and sea monsters too. She found me some books on them to borrow. And she's a lot more fun than Mrs Strikken."
"That's good. She's your new tutor now, until we can get you back into the Tower."
"Does that mean she won't be when we go back?"
I laugh a little. "No, we can arrange something. I'm sure Mrs Strikken won't mind having another tutor to share you with."
She smiles a little wider, then continues destroying her meal. I don't think she's lost any weight while I was gone, but the food she was given was probably terrible. At least Wallace is a good cook, and Pendleton can get his hands on proper ingredients.
"Will you be alright staying here when I have to leave?" I ask with a slight sigh. No point in avoiding it forever.
She nods, then quickly stops to eye me worriedly. "How often will you have to be gone?"
I set a hand on hers, the one not currently with a knife in it. "Not often. And when I do leave, I shouldn't be gone beyond an afternoon or evening."
"Are you hunting Burrows' friends? Like you said on the boat?"
"Yes."
"Won't they have guards, or soldiers? Won't they try to stop you?" The concern on her face is very real now.
"Yes, just like they had to keep you at the Golden Cat. But did that stop me?" I ask through a small, fake smile. Anything to try and calm her.
Rather than relaxing, she tenses up further. Or rather, she becomes... determined. "No. You have to promise you'll come back. You have to promise me you'll return safely, Corvo. I won't let you leave until you say it."
I always wondered where she got that intensity. Her mother could be terrifying when she needed to be, especially if she was standing up to one of her parliament members. Or maybe she learned it from the overbearing Lord Protector always at her side.
I nod to her, and clench her hand tighter. "I promise, Emily. I will always come back to you. Is that a suitable promise?"
"Only if you fulfill it," she says, slowly relaxing. After a few moments, she almost becomes that little girl I remember again. Before everything came crashing down. "Do you know when you'll be leaving again?"
"After lunch. I will be back some time after dinner, though I'm not sure when."
She nods, and begins eating again at a slightly slower pace. "Ok. Would you like for me to wait for you?"
"No, but thank you," I laugh gently. "Try to sleep in your tower if I am not back before dark. We can spend time together in the morning. Is that acceptable?"
"Only if you bring me my favorite strawberry tarts when you come back." This time, she smiles as well.
I relax a little and work on my meal. I suppose this is the best I can manage. It'll do for now.
A friendly reminder to everyone that moving sucks. Yes, that was the cause for about 80% of the hold ups this time. The process of buying a house and moving eats up so many waking hours, it's not even funny. But that's mostly settled, so here's hoping I'm back into my normal groove of things. Enough of my whining and enjoy the chapter!
Also, if anyone here is curious, I've decided to open myself for commissions to write for others! Figured it was time I try to expand my writing a little and work with other people's ideas. If anyone's interested, go check out my Tumblr for rates and rules. My username is gv-archangel over there, and the rules/rates should be close to the top. Or just shoot me an email. My gmail address is gvarchangelcomms! (Blame this site's damn filters for the weird wording. Apparently even including your email counts as spam on this site.) ~MGA