Monster Party Book Seven: There's some things you're never gonna help or change, but hunger is something we can turn around!

Chapter Eight: When in Rome do like a Roman.

There was a simple wooden package waiting on Alexander's doorstep the next morning. Granted he did not deem to open it until an hour after Zhakata's taking had concluded (and thus the ringing of bells had finally faded from his ears), but Leon ran a clean and safe guesting house, so no one had tried to disturb a package which had clearly been left for one of his !br0ken!

By the time the silver haired man could finally bring himself to open the package Florence had already brought it inside, and he found exactly what he was expecting.

Half a dozen bright red robes, each having a tiny human finger bone sewn into them in exactly the right place so that it would rest above the wearer's heart.

"It is nice to be needed." Alexander ruminated as he began to examine the robes more fully, trying to figure out how much of his normal clothing could easily be concealed beneath it.

The answer ended up being "not quite enough" all things considered. He needed to abandon his normal black outer attire (though luckily not Wolfclaw itself) and retain only a simple white shirt beneath to make it fit comfortably.

"It looks like Madar was telling the truth, these robes are probably genuine. Do you think that you can pass for one of Zhakata's followers though?" Florence inquired while donning her own cloak.

"Me? Be able to convince people that I'm a pompous jackass who insists that I'm one of the chosen of a higher power and thus I am always right? It might be a bit of a stretch, but somehow I think I might be able to pull it off." Alexander answered with a toothy smile.

Then he left the room carrying the four remaining robes to distribute to the others.

In the end Alexander wasn't the only one who ended up needing to leave some of their traditional clothing behind to fit properly into the recently provided priestly accoutrements: Cal had to part ways with both his brown cloak and Phoenix, while James needed to remove both his jacket and hat.

As the hat gently slid away from the young man's head his ears finally came into view. James Firecat's ears were wrong by just about every possible definition people use to gauge such organs.

They weren't in the right place, growing from the top of his head rather than sides. They were not the right shape, being more triangular or at least cone like than normal round human ears. They weren't the right texture, they were coated in slightly windswept crimson fur rather than being smooth. They certainly didn't move in the right way, they could twitch back and forth, showing a far greater range of movement than normal human ears.

In short, they looked more or less like what you would get if some insane surgeon (though in point of fact, not the one whom the group had encountered a while back) had decided to graft feline ears onto a human head. By this point none of the other five cared to remark on the strange sight of James' ears.

He came by them naturally after all, his mother had been a werecat, and so was he. Luckily the red robe's hood served to obscure his more exotic features far more effectively than they had for Petchko, though to be fair James had far less to hide.

"So the new plan is we wear these robes, walk right into the very seat of Yagno Petrovna's power, steal this 'eye of Zhakata' you friend talked about, assuming we can find it of course, then hopefully walk right out, without anyone realizing what we're doing, since that would lead to every resident of the temple and half the people of Zhukar being out for our heads." The alchemist reflected, dour as ever.

"It'll probably be more like three fourths of Zhukar actually." Devi interjected, doing nothing to sooth Cal's worries.

"Not forgetting that the only thing we have going for is these robes and your mysterious new acquaintance's words that this isn't just some gigantic trap?" He concluded with a sardonic eye roll.

Alexander held up a large (and rather heavily creased from recently being folded) piece of parchment that had also been included in the package. It was a map of prime temple of Zhakata, with one room in particular circled and a large arrow pointing to it.

"The black market I got invited to had already turned into a pretty big trap before Madar helped us escape." Alexander countered.

"The market raid probably only involved a few dozen or so guys getting ready to deal with normal every day trouble makers. If they're gonna put a stop to you Boss, Yagno will need a couple hundred or so of his very best. Which conveniently he'll have in the middle of his temple..." Cal argued, still suspicious of their recent turn of fortune.

"We've got the cloaks, we've got the map, we've even got this..." Alexander twisted the map around slightly so that the others could see the parchment more clearly.

On the side of it that was not dedicated to capturing Zhakata's greatest temple in considerable detail was a list of passwords, signs and counter signs that would offer them further aid in pretending to be priests.

"Things don't go this smooth for us. They never go this smooth." Cal couldn't help but still worry, in his experience if life served you something wonderful looking on a silver platter, it was probably poisoned, or at least illusionary.

"What would you suggest we do then? Refuse and make an enemy of the Circle of Darkness?" Devi pointed out.

"Sitting around in the guesting house all day is no fun. Besides, the priests of Zhakata probably already hate us anyway. If there's one thing I know, it's that priests of gods like Zhakata hate anyone who wants to have any fun." Mirri added as she adjusted her robes to better hide her white gloves.

The Lamordian sighed as he realized how pointless this particular debate was going to be. Not only was Alexander Diamondclaw fully capable of behaving like a wolf with a bone when it came to having made up his mind and decided to do something foolish, he honestly couldn't think of anything better, much as he hated to admit it to himself.

Which was exactly why he wasn't going to admit it to any of the others.

Still, sooner or later free thinking Lamordians like himself inevitably drew the ire of religious zealots. Sooner or later that ire inevitably turned to outright hatred, and sooner or later people started gathering big pieces of wood, rope and oil. Sooner or later the followers of Zhakata were bound to turn on him, so he might as well go along with Alexander's plan and turn on them first instead.

"What do you think the prime temple of Zhakata will be like?" James Firecat asked eagerly.

He had a far more positive view of religion than most of his companions, being an active believer in the feline goddess Bastet. Alas time temple he'd been a temple that had been actively devoted to his patron goddess, said temple had been in a rather decrepit state at the time. It had also been filled with undead cats and bizarre feline themed death traps (along with a few of a more banal nature) which had made the visit somewhat less than enjoyable. To say nothing of the fact that he'd been possessed by some sort of bizarre quasi-godlike spirit...

Alexander began to draw on both what he had seen of the temple while watching Yagno Petrovna preach and what the map suggested.

"If I had to guess..." He sighed.

XXX XXX XXX

"Pretty much like this." The silver haired man finally got around to answering about an hour later now that indeed they were inside the city's largest temple to Zhakata.

The process of getting inside the temple had been surprisingly smooth. Mirri had made sure to work her "charming personality" on their host so that he didn't ask any questions or think anything out of the ordinary about six of his guests departing dressed in bright red robes.

Outside, there had been nothing that could have possibly prevented them from drawing attention of course. Luckily with that attention came an equal mix of fear and respect. Everyone, even soldiers carrying blades marked with red cloth or string were quick to part before the gathering of "priests" out walking Zhukar's streets.

Even the soldiers guarding the gates to the temple proved scarcely more of an obstacle. They had offered a challenge, but its answer had been provided to the group on the back of the map.

With the door opened before them, the group was able to head inside the temple itself.

After passing a quartet of guards who seemed to exist to keep the liturgical riffraff from getting to lay eyes on things they shouldn't, they were finally able to have some privacy. Not a lot of course, as one might expect, the largest most important temple of Zhakata was a busy place.

Luckily it seemed that Petchko had been right about the fear of Rega that permeated the temple, since none of the other people walking the temple found anything noteworthy about the sight of six priests standing around having a hushed private conversation inside the temple.

The other thing they had going for them was that no matter how repressive his edicts might be, Zhakata didn't seem to pick favorites between men or women, human or elves. Granted, there probably weren't any dryads who had dedicated themselves to worshiping the Beast-God, which was why Florence had made sure to slather herself down with a few ointments and mixtures that Cal had brewed up. They wouldn't last forever and might not hold up under intense inspection, but at least a single glance at her face wouldn't cause people to raise the alarm.

Now that they were finally there, the inside of the temple was decorated almost exactly how Alexander would have predicted it to be; icons of Zhakata galore, mosaics made from more of that "faux ivory" and portraits which depicted important moments from the life of Yagno Petrovna.

The first one they came upon was relatively unremarkable, showing only his birth, which while done in the common fanciful "clean" style for birth, at least it didn't include a chorus of angels or other divine beings blessing the occasion.

The second one was much more mystical, it showed Yagno Petrovna as a young man (though with his long thin face Yagno was depicted as the type of child who was born to be an old man) cowering against one side of a small cave. On the wall opposite him was the word "Zhakata" carved in letters that glowed red like freshly poured magma.

The third one showed what at first glance looked like Yagno Petrovna (for once with his eyes fully open and burning with a fiery passion) preforming some kind of blessed rite upon a young child. It seemed quite innocent and wholesome, until you looked closer and noticed the knife starting to emerge from Yagno's brown robes (clearly he hadn't established red as Zhakata's chosen color yet) along with the fact that there was no one around but him and the child.

As they proceeded further down the hallway they came upon a fourth picture, showing Yagno bowing his head in some unknown location (the place seemed to have walls made exclusively of bones wherever it was) before some bipedal creature that if not the avatar of Zhakata then was surely some great servant of the Beast God.

Since they were certainly being observed by the others going up and down the hallway Alexander held back a dismissive snort at what he was certain had to be nothing more than baseless propaganda designed to bolsters Yagno Petrovna's ego and reputation.

As they left the hallway and came to a room which had at least three other exits Alexander was glad that he'd memorized the map they'd been given quite extensively. He had it folded up and tucked away inside a pocket of his red robe just in case of course, but it might raise some suspicions if priests who had supposedly worshiped at the temple for several years suddenly needed to consult a map to figure out where they were going.

He lead the other five through another doorway beneath yet another statue of Zhakata. This hallway was a bit less sparsely populated than the main entrance-way they'd been walking down only a few moments ago, in fact there was only one other occupant headed their way.

He was an obviously a soldier rather than a priest given that he wore armor rather than a robe, and had a red arm band visible just below his gauntlets. Like most occupants of G'Henna he had black hair and blue eyes, with his hair worn relatively loose if still neatly trimmed.

His sword was in its scabbard, and instead his hands held a piece of parchment along with what must have been a magical pen of some sort, since he was able to write with it without it dribbling ink all over the place.

It would hardly be the first such pen the group had encountered (Cal owned at least three), but it was surprising to find that one had worked its way into the hands of what seemed to be a guard of no great importance. Still, he was so intently focused on the piece of parchment that he was within ten feet of the group before being careful to swing out of their way. The six could have doubtlessly passed the soldier without any real interaction, if he hadn't muttered four simple words to himself.

"It doesn't add up." Was all he said, and indeed all he needed to say.

Such words called to Devi Skye as a siren's song calls to the ship captain, as a freshly poured mug of mead calls to the sot. She turned around and called out to the soldier in an appropriately haughty tone of voice.

"What does not add up?" She demanded to know at once.

The guard turned to face her, his face going several shades paler as he found himself being directly addressed by one of his red robbed superiors.

"Forgive me Mother. Father Sorin has given me a task so that I might better hone not just my body but also my mind for the service of Zhakata. I am to calculate the amount of food we receive during the Taking of Zhakata, then the amount we give out during Zhakata's Dole and finally the amount we sacrifice to Zhakata himself. I have spent much of the day researching all the related figures… yet they do not add up." He explained with a look of honest befuddlement.

Devi Skye said nothing, she simply held out her right hand imperiously.

The sheaf of parchment that the soldier had been working on was handed over. He then began to clumsily search through various pockets and pouches of his uniform, before removing and passing over a few more slightly crumpled sheets which proved to be the first steps of his research.

Elves lived longer than humans, in theory something like seven times longer. In practice it could effectively be even longer than that since less of their lifespan consisted of either mindless infancy or doddering senility.

Many elves devoted their lives to horticultural pursuits, the creation of fancy poems, ballads, or other bits of what Devi Skye considered ultimately irrelevant frippery. She had devoted herself to numbers; numbers were hard, numbers were important, numbers were something that you could count on to keep you alive.

In short order her keen eyes began to work their way through the various numbers that were laid out before her. Then she reached out a hand and placed it upon the soldier's head as if she was granting him absolution for a sin.

"I have tallied all the numbers that you have collected. If the amount of food being given to the temple is not being over-reported, and the amounts being offered to Zhakata or given to the people is not being under-reported, then you are correct. The numbers do not add up." She declared with complete finality as she began to hand back the sheaves of parchment.

The soldier took them, and then nodded his head slowly.

"Clearly there must be a few figures related to Zhakata's Dole who I have not yet gotten a chance to talk with. I will seek to rectify the mistake at once." He declared proudly before quickly speeding off.

Devi for her part turned back to the others with a still calm serene look on her face.

"Well, that was hardly unexpected." She reflected while confidently crossing her arms.

"You think that some priest has his hand in the till?" Callan Wright pondered.

It did not take much to get the alchemist to suspect corruption. He chiefly assumed that everyone in the world (save for a few breathtakingly rare exceptions like as James Firecat) would behave in much the same (if less logical and intelligent) manner as he would; IE be an asshole.

Those who held power of any type; be it political, military, financial, or of a more ephemeral nature, would use said power to make those who did not have power suffer. He only needed to consider the way that Alexander kept using his own charismatic power and promises (promises that ninety percent or so of the time he managed to keep, but he couldn't know that when making them) of financial gain to keep placing Callan Wright in various types of mortal peril.

So, if he was a priest of Zhakata, and had a steel tight grip on the supply of food flowing through Zhukar… well suffice to say he wouldn't be going hungry any time soon.

That food which had been available for purchase in the black market had to come from somewhere after all. Not only that, but the priests and soldiers of Zhukar seemed to be the only occupants of the city who didn't have a hollow eyed-air of starvation about them.

"So how much food exactly are they managing to squirrel away?" Florence pressed.

Devi sighed and began to make a couple of awkwardly groping hand motions.

"Even I can't be completely sure at the moment. Like our newest acquaintance himself said, it is entirely possible that he just doesn't have all the figures, it might really all add up properly in the end. The smart money though is riding on Zhakata's priesthood has more than enough food to go around. Which probably in turn would lead to there being some very interesting numbers indeed to be found if anyone looked at how much cash on hand various priests have..." She couldn't help but ponder.

With that "cheery" thought on their minds the group pressed further on into the temple.

AN: Behold, this chapter only took me three weeks to write and post, as opposed to the last two which took me a full month! I'm getting back in the swing of things! In all seriousness I've killed off/burnt through most of the audio books that I've been enjoying and am now re-listening to some stuff which helps me get into a comfortable grove where I can properly write once again.

I plan to hopefully start seriously kicking some butt on this thing, especially since this is going to be one of the most important Monster Party stories, so it is time I really started putting the pedal to the metal and working on it!

Also let me know if this chapter seems especially slap dash/awkward to read, I'll admit I uploaded and proofread it all in one night, which I don't normally do, so let me know if the quality seems about average, or it is obvious that I should have slept on it then given it one more round of revisions.