Twenty-Four || Anticipation

Mint walked back through the gate into town and was almost immediately beset upon by Elena.

"Mi-int!" she called, and Mint winced in response. She'd had enough whimsy and lunacy for the day; dealing with Elena and her innately chipper personality was something she was simply not up for.

Fortunately, as Elena darted across the street to meet her, she felt soft fur brush against her cheek, and Gorotan stirred.

"What's all that yelling?" he grumbled. When he had settled on Mint's shoulder, he had waited no more than five minutes to make sure Mint was going in the right direction before curling up and falling asleep. She had been listening to his soft, purring snore in her ear since she had left the atelier.

"Klaus' kid," Mint said, but Gorotan didn't hear her; instead, he drew up to attention, his eyes opening wide when he saw Elena.

"Mint!" Elena repeated, coming to a stop a few feet in front of her. She was pale and winded, and Mint realized suddenly that her shout had not been enthusiasm, but desperation. "Oh, Mint, it's awful, I went down to see Prima but he didn't wake up and Dad said he wasn't working right and I've been so worried but–" She gasped for air. The words had come out of her mouth all in a tumble, and Mint was having some trouble making sense of them. Elena gave her little chance to figure them out. "But he said you were gonna find a way to fix him. You did, right? Find a way? He'll be okay?"

"'Course he will," Mint said. "I can't take over the world without him."

Somehow, that failed to cheer Elena up.

"Chin up, dear," Gorotan said. He leapt off of Mint's shoulder and flitted through the air, taking up a lazy orbit near Elena's head. "I'm here to help, after all."

"Oh, Gorotan!" Elena held up her arm, and Gorotan fluttered down, landing gently on Elena's outstretched arm. "What are you doing in town?"

"Rendering my assistance," he said. "Did you have a pleasant yesterday? Make good on your picnic?"

"Oh, it was neat!" Elena said. "We went on an adventure!"

"Do tell," Gorotan purred.

Elena turned on her heel and headed back for her house, her bearing completely different now that she was talking to Gorotan. Mint watched her for a few seconds, her jaw set tight – how come seeing the little puce furball lightened her mood more than when she had seen Mint? – but beneath that she also felt a flit of relief. She didn't have to interact with Elena, which was already a plus, but seeing her in such a panic had been... jarring. Mint didn't like it.

And she did like the moment of silence she had. Instead of following straightaway, she leaned back on the town wall, closed her eyes, and breathed deep. The faint scent of ocean salt and food vendors carried on the breeze to meet her. It brought with it the sound of daily life – of commerce and conversation, footsteps, laughter – but it was all the way from town square, and the distance she felt between herself and the people there was strangely soothing. She needed a breath of normalcy.

After a few minutes – or maybe more than a few, she had lost track of time – she pushed off the wall and made for the Adler household.

Then stopped.

She had heard something, and in the same instant felt something– not something physical or truly tangible, but a strange twinge in the air, a flit of energy there and then gone so abruptly she almost thought she had imagined it. Slowly, she took a half-step back from where she had been walking, stopped herself, and looked to her right.

A man was leaning against the wall of one of the houses, keeping himself shoved close to the building to stand in the slant of shade. He wasn't doing anything, but Mint found him to be anything but innocuous; he was dressed in a long goldenrod coat, and his hair was styled into bright red spikes. She hadn't seen anybody in town sporting such a look before, and when she tried to get a better look at him she didn't recognize him at all. Not that she had familiarized herself with most of the town, but even in spite of his... unique... taste in hairstyle, his sharp features and thin eyes would have made him stand out from the majority of the townsfolk.

She must have been staring. He looked up and immediately made eye contact.

"Keep movin', sweetheart," he said brusquely. "You ain't worth my time."

Mint twitched.

"What was that?" she growled.

"I said," the man began, pushing off the wall and standing fully upright in front of her, "you ain't worth my time." He shoved his hands in his pockets when he spoke and leaned forward a bit for emphasis.

Mint recognized what he was doing; posturing and intimidation. She sloughed it off without a second thought, but marked it as another bit of peculiarity about the man. He went through the motions with a natural ease; he wasn't trying to play up how threatening he was, he simply was. The confidence in his movement was absolute, which somewhat troubled Mint; he was only a couple of inches taller than Mint, hair notwithstanding, and his build was hardly imposing.

Really, she might have been impressed by his confidence if it wasn't so grating.

"Who the hell do you think you are?" she snapped.

"Got no reason to give you my name, princess," he said, and the emphasis he put on the word made it clear it was an insult, not a title. He waved dismissively. "Scram."

She almost did – it was clear this conversation was going nowhere – but she had hardly taken another step forward when she stopped again. She felt it, a subtle change around her, and could almost see something out of the corner of her eye. She looked up. There was a distortion in the air, like a thin heat mirage, and she could only make it out from a particular angle and just out of the corner of her eye; when she tried to focus on it, it disappeared. She tried to follow it anyway, a flickering non-line looping back to the edge of the building awning, then angling down, and eventually connecting to what seemed to be its point of origin in the man's hand.

She had spent several seconds trying to make sense of what she was seeing, and clearly he had marked it. He moved again, tugging his hand, and the line shimmered faintly before going still and invisible once again. "What, you got brain damage or something? I said buzz off!"

She ignored him and followed the line in the other direction. A loop around the corner of the awning, down to the next building, a jump across to the next alley, and then she lost sight of it. She didn't like it. It was a magic thread, semi-tangible, leaping its way across town to a destination she couldn't see. Or from a destination she couldn't see. She didn't know if it ended or began with the man's hand.

Mint looked over her shoulder, her gaze narrow.

"What's your game?" she asked.

"Backgammon," he said, the word dripping sarcasm. She had to give him credit; he hadn't missed a beat.

"You know what I mean." She rounded to face him. "Who are you and what are you doing here?"

"T'ch." He shook his head. "Waiting for someone."

"Not what I meant."

"Killing time. This place is boring as piss. Gotta keep myself from slipping into a coma somehow."

He flicked his hand, and it was clear he had done it for her edification. She went rigid when she saw the energy thread vibrate, and wheeled to watch as it shuddered along its path. Now that it was moving, she could follow its length more easily, to where it seemed to tie off to the end–

Her heart skipped.

"Oh, hey, that's right," he said, his tone mocking. "You're buddies with the folks that live in that house, aren't you?"

He played with the thread again. She saw the end of it flicker into visibility right over the Adlers' front door. Mint tensed, her teeth grinding, and shot another glance at the man. He smiled at her.

"What did you do?" she hissed.

His smile broadened. He tugged the thread again.

Mint bolted.

She charged down the path through the town, glancing up to make sure she could still see the thread of magic, make sure it didn't move in a way she wasn't anticipating. The man was clearly toying with her, and maybe – no, probably, and it was becoming more obvious by the second – she was being led straight into a trap. This was meant for her. He had been standing right where she couldn't miss him.

Then again, if he was actually planning on doing something to the Adlers–

She shoulder-slammed into the door, meaning to bring herself to a stop but succeeding in knocking the latch out. The door swung inward, and she almost fell into the house as soon as it was open. She staggered, caught herself, looked around desperately. Nothing here, nothing there, she didn't even know what she was looking for but she couldn't feel any pockets of magic and as she stood in the doorway, her breathing ragged, reflexively bringing the Dual Halos to her hands, she realized that, maybe, that was the trap.

She waited several more seconds, just in case, but when she felt nothing change she relaxed her stance and stood up. She looked up, peering into the corners of the room, and then began to work her way through the mess of artifacts. There were pockets of magic in here, but they were all old and frayed, just lingering and dying enchantments on a few of the items. That wasn't it, then.

Mint leaned outside and looked down the road, in the direction the man had been standing. He was gone.

"Son of a bitch," she snarled. "He tricked me."

She turned around, grumbling expletives to herself, and closed the door behind her. She was halfway toward the dining room when she felt something crash down hard on top of her head. She hit the ground. She blacked out.

She came to no more than five seconds later.

The impact had been jarring, but she had taken worse hits before; it was just the suddenness of it that had caught her so badly. With a groan, she rolled over onto her side. There was a sound of footsteps– light and quick, doubtless Elena, and sure enough the girl emerged from the dining room entrance.

"Mint!" she cried, and suddenly retreated out of Mint's field of vision. Mint was okay with that. When Elena disappeared, Mint groaned again, flopped back on her stomach, and worked her way back to her feet, her disorientation slowly fading. She looked up again to see Elena standing in the doorway again, a small bottle and a clean cloth clutched in her hand.

"Hey," Mint said. "You, uh, you've got a thing there."

"Elixir from Mel," Elena said quickly. She was at Mint's side not two seconds later, upending the potion bottle against the cloth. Mint raised her hand in protest, but Elena ignored her, applying the damp cloth not to the top of her head, where Mint was expecting it, but to her cheek. A cool, bubbling sensation played across her skin.

"I got hit in the head," Mint groused, gently rubbing where she had been hit. It was a terribly tender spot, and her every heartbeat sent a new burst of discomfort and pain under her fingers.

"And maybe you hit something when you fell," Elena said. "You got a big cut on her cheek. Err, did." She pulled the cloth away. "That's better."

Mint raised her hand to her cheek and ran her fingers across it. Just at the edge of her palm, where Elena's cloth had not reached, she felt a trickle of warm blood; above that, though, her cheek felt flawless.

"Good stuff," she said, and before she could say anything else Elena was patting her head with the elixir-infused cloth. Before she could protest, the same gentle sensation worked its way across her scalp, and the throbbing pain on top of her head began to subside.

"What happened?" Elena asked, but her attention suddenly snapped away from Mint. "Oh! Did you bring this back for us?"

"Did I what to who?"

Elena scampered past her and then returned, this time bearing something in her arms. Mint turned her attention to Elena for a moment and found herself for the umpteenth time that day utterly boggled by what she was seeing.

"Why is there a pumpkin in here," she said flatly.

Elena looked at her curiously. "You didn't bring this in, Mint?" she asked. "There weren't any pumpkins when I came inside."

"Are you kidding?" She pushed herself back to her feet, dusting herself off. "I hate pumpkins!"

Elena almost made to speak, but her grip on the pumpkin slipped and she had to readjust herself and run into the next room, placing the large orange squash on the dining table. Mint shook herself off, checked herself over – no further harm, and the elixir had already muted the blow to her head – and then looked up.

There had definitely not been a pumpkin in the room a moment before. She certainly had not brought it. And judging by the little bits of broken rind on the ground, the pumpkin had definitely fallen in.

That was the trap?

It wasn't entirely benign, but she had been expecting something far worse– explosions, house fire, something really catastrophic. Dropping a pumpkin was little more than an idiotic prank.

Why pumpkin, though? Certainly not the most convenient fruit-vegetable-projectile weapon the man could have found. And its was only significant to her because of what her little sister had done...

She shook her head.

"Where's Gorotan?" Mint asked wearily.

"We were just talking while we were waiting for you," Elena said. "Are you ready?"

She hesitated, looked back at the door, but finally nodded.

"Yeah," she said. "Lead the way."

A few minutes later and she was standing in the basement again. Klaus was still at his desk, his expression a cross between concern and confusion; the Prima Doll lay prostrate and lifeless in the corner; Gorotan sat atop one of the stacks of documents and junk nearby, overlooking the doll. When Mint stepped off the stairs, he looked up to her.

"Are you ready?" he asked.

"Ready?"

Gorotan waved a wing in the direction of the Prima Doll. "In case I need assistance," he said. "I've given him a look, and it doesn't seem the enchantment needs to be altered, just... reinvigorated. But I'd like you to be on standby in the even that I'm wrong."

"Yeah, sure."

She moved fully into the basement and happened to catch sight of Klaus out of the corner of her eye. He had removed his glasses and was presently sitting with his eyes tightly shut, pinching the bridge of his nose and murmuring to himself; she heard a hint of Mel's name in the midst of it and couldn't help but grin. Elena took Mel's weirdness too much in stride, and it was nice to have somebody else at least acknowledge that this was, at least on some level, nuts.

Gorotan issued a few verbal commands, getting Elena closer to the staircase and instructing Klaus to push his chair back, and when Mint was standing alongside the bed he finally fluttered down from where he had been sitting, landed neatly on the floor, and exploded into light, resolving a few seconds later in the form Mint had first seen him in. It was immediately clear why he had rearranged the humans beforehand; even with Elena and Klaus somewhat out of the way, the massive mulberry feline had to crouch under the low ceiling and arrange himself tightly to fit into the somewhat cramped space of the basement.

He seemed comfortable with it, though, and placed a heavy forepaw over the Prima Doll, one claw in the doll's clavicle and another at the base of his sternum. Gorotan closed his eyes and focused, his whiskers briefly flickering with electricity, and finally he cracked one eye open.

"Girl," he said.

"I have a name," Mint growled.

"That's nice." He closed his eyes again. "You can feel the pulse of magic, yes? I'm going to apply a lesser current. Monitor him for any disruptions."

Mint nodded. "Got it."

"Three pulses," Gorotan said. "Let me know if you sense anything."

"Still got it."

A ripple ran across his body, sending his fur briefly standing on end, before Mint felt the static crackle through the air. Magic suffused the Prima Doll's body once, twice, thrice. All of it dispersed without being able to take hold, but that was expected; Gorotan hadn't used much more energy than she had tried that morning. When he was done, he opened his eyes and looked over to her. She shook her head.

"I don't see anything. You should be good."

"Lovely," he said, flicking his tail. "Then you ought stand back, too. This may get... uncomfortable."

She heard Klaus moan slightly from behind Gorotan.

Mint obliged and took a few steps back, as far away as she could get without stumbling over papers or boxes or Gorotan's tail, and the feline closed his eyes again. Another surge of electrical energy washed over him, crackled across his fur, and then he released the energy into the Prima Doll.

There was a flare of light, a powerful crack, and the basement was filled with the metal scent of ozone. Beneath it, Mint felt the Prima Doll's magic pulse quicken slightly. It turned sluggish again after a moment, but felt faster than it had when she had examined him only a few hours gone. Not enough, though, and Gorotan knew it; he unleashed another burst of magic, riding the energy from the first, and now the Prima Doll's pulse almost felt like a heartbeat.

Still not enough, though; for good measure, Gorotan released a final burst of electricity.

"You're good!" Mint cried. "You're good, you don't want to fry him!"

Gorotan removed his claws, trailing a few lingering sparks with him. The Prima Doll was twitching slightly, something that almost resembled muscular spasms, and Mint stepped forward to examine him again. She touched him and recoiled immediately, cursing under her breath. He was still overcharged; the magic had leapt between them and nearly burnt her on contact.

But that was what he had needed, apparently. Mint touched him again and there was no further magical discharge. Instead, she could feel the magic flow moving within him again, earnestly and regularly. The core enchantment – his surrogate heart – was threading itself, contracting and expanding to keep the energy moving.

And, in turn, the Prima Doll moved as well. The muscle spasms eased and subsided, and as she watched the doll's eyelids started to flutter. His eyes opened, and with a brief string of garbled words – or perhaps just old language – he snapped back to attention and sat upright. This time the movement came naturally, with none of the gear grinding they had heard earlier.

"You're welcome," Gorotan said.

"Did it work?" Klaus called, projecting his voice past the cat's body.

"Yeah, we're good," Mint said. "He's sitting up again."

"Apologies," the Prima Doll began. "I didn't realize my systems were so compromised. Had I known–"

"You still would have required my intervention," Gorotan said, flicking his tail lazily. He pulled up both paws under his chest and lowered his head, easily lounging despite how much he had to curl up. "Again, you're welcome."

The Prima Doll looked at him, almost expressionless, although Mint could see a hint of something across his face, trying to determine how to respond to the cat. After a few moments of processing, he said, "Thank you," and then looked to Mint. To her surprise, the Prima Doll lowered his voice as it spoke to her. "This is– abnormal, yes?"

"Way abnormal," she said.

Gorotan snorted in amusement.

Elena's voice cut in from near the stairs. "Oh! Hello, Rue! Welcome back!"

Mint turned to face the stairs and tried to crane her neck, looking around Gorotan's flank. Gorotan accommodated her by twitching his tail right into her field of vision.

"So, um..." Rue paused. "There's a... large purple cat down here."

His tone of voice said everything.

"There is!" Elena responded cheerily. "Rue, this is Gorotan. Gorotan–"

Gorotan shifted around, managing somehow to turn himself to face the stairs without knocking anything over in the movement. He flopped down again. "Yes, the white-haired boy," Gorotan said. He extended a paw toward the staircase, and Mint leaned over to get a better look at the proceedings. To her amusement, Rue – who had the firmly blank expression of a person who could not begin to fathom what they were seeing – mechanically extended his hand and accepted the cat's claw. They shook hands. He still had no idea how to react. "The young miss told me about you."

"Elena?" he asked. Then; "You're... acquainted?"

"I visit Gorotan when I go see Mel," Elena piped up. "If he isn't napping."

"And sometimes when I am," Gorotan added. "Ah, but it's always nice to see you, Miss Elena." He nodded to her, then twisted around again, looking over to Mint. "Is he acceptable?"

"What? Oh." She looked at the Prima Doll. "Hey, you acceptable?"

The Prima Doll nodded. "Systems are functioning optimally. Again, my thanks for your assistance, ah... Gorotan."

"It's nice to get out of the atelier, at times," Gorotan said. Without warning, he was consumed in a blaze of light, returning to his small bat-like form, and suddenly the basement felt infinitely larger and cooler without him. He bobbed in the air, something like a nod. "But it's time I returned."

"I'll go with you!" Elena said. "I kinda wanted to visit Mel anyway."

"A fine arrangement!"

He flitted to Elena, and without further ado both of them headed out of the basement, falling into an easy conversation about nothing in particular. Rue remained standing where he was, moving just enough to get out of Elena's way, and then finally climbed down the last couple of steps and approached Mint and Klaus.

"So, ah..." He faltered, looking between the two of them. "What... was that?"

Mint waved her hand. "Don't worry about it." She examined him for a second, then stepped forward and examined him far more closely. Rue was taken aback by it and nearly stumbled when he pulled away from her. She caught him by the arm and forced him to stop.

"You look a little frazzled," she said. Not nearly as bad as the previous day, but it was clear he had gotten into some kind of altercation. "The dragon beat you up?"

"A little. But nothing bad." He rolled his shoulder back and broke Mint's grip, then took half a step away from her.

"What happened?" Klaus asked, half-rising from his chair. Rue raised a hand and motioned for him to sit back down.

"Nothing bad," he repeated. "I saw Wylaf. We talked." He stepped forward to Klaus' desk and raised his other hand, laying an impressive slab of ore on the table. "He gave me this."

Klaus stared for a moment, and Rue took a step back to him more space. Klaus didn't take it immediately, however; instead, Mint stepped forward to examine his prize. She pressed her hand against it and felt the telltale hum of phantomite responding to magic. She grinned.

"This is the real deal," she said, pulling her hand away. She looked at Rue sidelong. "And he just gave this to you?"

"Not just," Rue said, "but we talked for a bit and I guess I convinced him everything would work out." He looked to Klaus. "This is enough?"

"More than," Klaus said. He reached out and pulled the top of the phantomite chunk toward himself, rolling it slightly across the table so he could get a better look. "Significantly more than. Mel's instructions only call for a fraction of this..." He smiled. "I suppose there's plenty to fall back on if I mess up the amulet construction somehow."

"Amulet?"

Klaus blinked. "Yes," he said, confused. "The phantomite needs to be restructured into an amulet. Mel has some fairly specific instructions in here." He reached over to the piece of paper and held it up so both of them could see. "It's delicate work, I'm afraid. May take a few days to finish. Although with this much phantomite I shouldn't need to worry about messing up too badly..."

"I guess that makes sense," Mint said. "About the amulet, I mean." She took the piece of paper and scanned over Mel's instructions. She had left them in the form of a sketch on the page, and Mint looked over it quickly, nodding to herself. "Looks like this is supposed to control magic flow. There must be something about the seal spell that requires particular tweaking."

"Not surprising," Rue said.

"Given the trouble Elroy went through to break the seal," Klaus added. He sighed. "I'm... proud. Of both of you." He laughed lightly. "And now I'm the one who's going to be holding up everything..."

"Not so," the Prima Doll interjected. "You are in no rush. I still require the tiara in order to unlock the seal. Production of the amulet will not disrupt the retrieval of the tiara."

Mint exhaled. "Oh, right. Can't put that off any longer, can we?"

"Not much," Klaus said.

Rue did not respond immediately. His gaze was turned down toward the ground, his expression drawn in thought, one hand absently running through his hair. Abruptly, he looked up. "Actually, I think I can get it back."

Mint cocked an eyebrow. "You know where they're hiding? You think you can beat it out of them?" The prospect of assaulting Belle and Duke on her own terms was strangely inviting, and she hoped he wouldn't find them without her to join in on the fray.

"No and no," he said. "But I've got an idea."

"Care to regale us?" Mint asked. "Care to take me along?"

"Sorry," he said, "but I think I need to take this one myself." He nodded to Mint and Klaus in turn, and then turned on his heal and headed up and out the basement before Mint could fully comprehend what he had just done.

"Hey," she said, and then, with more vigor; "Hey! Pretty-boy! Partners, remember?"

Klaus laughed. "Let him go," he said. "I don't recall him trying to invoke your partners clause when he went to fight a dragon."

"This is different," Mint said. "I want to be involved in this."

"It'll be fine. And if he doesn't succeed, you can have a go at it, yes?"

She folded her arms and scowled at him. Klaus indicated the phantomite.

"Anyway," he said, "I may need your help breaking this down so I can work with it. You've far more familiar with phantomite than I am."

She sighed. "True enough."

. .

Mint would wind up spending the rest of the morning and a fair bit of the afternoon helping Klaus work with the phantomite. Rue would spend that time digging around town.

He spoke to the local merchants and vendors. He talked to Davis the harbor master about any ships that had come in. He went to restaurants and shops; he spoke to Tonio, to see if anybody of interest had come in to pick up weapons. He spoke to Hobbs, to see if anybody of interest had been looking at his more mystical wares. He spoke to the old adventurer Graham; he spoke to Marcum, for the first time since he had gotten off of the merchant's ship. It wasn't until he happened to run across a young boy that he realized what he was looking for.

Marco Cartha was around Elena's age, and Rue happened to find him standing near the gate to the forest. Marco was trying very hard to look unconcerned and nonchalant, but he kept stealing surreptitious glances out into the forest before returning to his not-quite-vigil. Rue would have ignored him had the boy not called to him as he went by.

"H-hey!" Marco shouted. "Sir, wait!"

Rue did just that, and shortly Marco was standing in front of him, panting slightly from having run up to him. When he had his wits about him again, Marco opened the conversation.

"S-sorry," he said hastily. "I, um... I've seen you around with Elena. Right? You helped her out with some stuff the last coupla days."

"Yeah, that's right," he said. Rue tilted his head and studied the boy. "You're Marco, right?"

The kid nodded.

"Elena mentioned you a couple of days ago."

Immediately his stance changed. He stood upright, positively beaming. "She did?" he asked, almost breathless at the thought

Rue decided it would probably be best not to mention quite how flippantly she had done so, and nodded in response. "What's wrong?" he asked.

"Nothing's wrong," Marco said. "But I've seen your runnin' around town talking to people and I haven't seen you doin' that before. Are you lookin' for something?" He stood fully upright, perfecting his posture. "Maybe I can help."

No point not asking. "I'm looking for somebody," he said. "Well, either of them, really. A blonde woman, traveling with a man with black hair, they–"

"Belle and Duke?"

Rue stared, perplexed, but nodded. "Ah, yeah. Yeah, them."

"Dunno where they are now," he said, "but they're stayin' at the big hotel. It's right across from gram's– from Cartha's Inn." He pointed down the road. "They're pretty cool."

Not an adjective Rue was expecting to hear in association with the two of them. "How so?" he asked.

Marco grinned. "Get this," he said. "There's a coupla thieves got into town maybe a week ago– Blood n' Smokey. A few days ago they tried to rob the hotel, but soon as they start makin' a fuss Belle storms outta the showers and kicks their butts! Drove 'em right back outta town"

The mental image was crystal clear; Belle, wreathed in a bathrobe and soaking wet, screaming threats and hurling fire at the two racketeers. He smiled at the thought.

"That's noble of her," he said.

Marco nodded, but when he spoke again he lowered his voice, almost whispering. "Leeson and Solin thought so, too. I heard they were gonna toss her and Duke out if they didn't pay the hotel bill by the next morning, but when Belle helped 'em out they waived the room charge for a coupla nights."

Rue ran through that piece of information a few times. "I see," he said finally. "Thank you, Marco, you've been a huge help."

Marco gave him a short, informal salute. "Anytime," he said. "A friend of Elena's is mine, too!"

With that bit of information, Rue went to the hotel and spoke to the manager on duty, Solin. Solin verified the story and directed Rue to one more place. It would prove to be the end of his search.

. .

Belle slammed her forehead against the table.

She had barely made it back to town. The Hexagon had been badly damaged from the heat and the crash; it was pure luck that its drive core could get it hovering, or else she would have been stranded on that island. Fortunately the core itself hadn't been damaged; the Hexagon was utterly useless for combat in its present state, but she could at least still fly it.

And fly it she had, limping back to the island. She had stashed the Hexagon a short way out into the forest, veiled it, and come back into town herself. She had considered going back to the inn – she was coated in dust and ash and sweat and desperately wanted to scrub herself clean – but all at once the extent of her failure had weighed down on her, and she decided she needed a drink.

She took her place at her preferred table, tucked away in the darkest corner of the bar so as to invite minimal attention, and motioned to Annette as she went by. Belle had been a regular in the bar since she had arrived in town more than a week ago, and Annette already knew what she liked. While she waited for the drink order, she pulled up her purse and rummaged through it. A few slivers of gold– enough to afford a drink, and not much more than that.

Not enough to pay their outstanding rent at the hotel. Definitely not enough to fix the Hexagon.

The doorbell jingled, and Belle instinctively looked up. She expected to see one of the regulars walk through, but to her surprise it was Duke. He looked a bit battered – one of his eyes was swollen into a squint, and his nose bore a nasty bruise – and he immediately zeroed in on Belle's table. When he had joined her, she leaned in to look at him more carefully, frowning.

"What the hell?" she asked.

"I followed Mint," Duke grumbled.

Belle slammed her fist against the table. "Why did you do that?" she snapped. "I had the situation under control. You didn't need to chase her!"

"How under control?" Duke asked. Normally he would have been much more reverent, but he sounded tired and it was clear he was humoring the conversation entirely for her edification. "Did you get anything?"

Belle leaned on the table, resting her chin on one hand and tracing the whorls in the wood of the table with the other. "Okay," she said finally. "Maybe under control isn't the best way to put it." She sighed and shook her head. "I couldn't get him to negotiate with me. The Hexagon's a mess. The only thing that worked out is that I confirmed they're searching for a Relic." She shrugged. "Not real helpful."

Duke shifted a bit, settling into the chair. His own frustration started to sap away. "I'm sorry to hear that, milady," he said. "I didn't have much luck, either."

"I thought you were telling me your suit is invincible."

"It is," he said. He pointed to his head. "But my face isn't."

She decided she was in no mood to listen to the details of that. She scratched at a little knot of wood on the table, a shiver of irritation running down her back. "What the hell?" she growled, her attention snapping up to the bar. "How long does it take to mix a mojito!"

"Not long," Annette said. She drifted out of seemingly nowhere, a tray balanced on her hand, and she immediately placed the drink down– no, drinks, plural. There was Belle's mojito, crystal green in the light; in front of Duke, straight rum, on the rocks. Duke was confused – he hadn't bothered to order yet – and then Annette placed a third drink at the seat furthest from either of them, something thin and vibrantly colored and tropical.

She frowned. "I didn't order that."

"I know," Annette said.

"I did," said another voice– soft, even, with a little tendency toward pitching up the vowels.

Belle recognized it immediately and looked up, glowering across the small table just in time to see Rue sliding into the seat across from her. He looked up and quickly thanked Annette, and the waitress gave him a soft smile before bustling off to the front of the bar. There weren't any other patrons to attend to, not so early in the day; she was plainly giving them privacy. Rue must have asked for it.

Belle clenched her teeth. "What do you want?"

"Just to talk," Rue said. "I came here to negotiate."

Belle recognized his words and snorted disdainfully. "Now you want to negotiate," she grumbled. A though struck her, and she couldn't help but grin. "What is it? You had a falling out with your girlfriend?"

"You gave me unacceptable terms earlier," he said. "And then you tried to crush me. I want to actually negotiate."

Duke looked up from his drink. "Sounds good," he said. "What're you thinking?"

"It does not sound good," Belle snapped. She glared at Rue. "What changed?"

"I've been looking for you all across town," Rue said. "You left quite a trail of debt."

Oh.

Belle blanched, and quickly turned her attention to her drink, trying to think of an appropriately cutting response. While she was feigning distraction, Rue continued.

"I know you need money," he said, "so I'll make this simple. I'll buy the tiara from you."

"What's your offer?" Duke asked.

"What do you need?"

Belle surfaced from her drink.

"A lot," she said. She held her hand and starting ticking expenses off on her fingers. "The hotel, the bar, the restaurants– the Hexagon is gonna take a ton to repair–"

"Not a ton," Duke said brightly. "Milady, I know somebody here who can–"

"A ton," Belle repeated, silencing Duke. "And the main reason I'm out here scouring for treasure is to pay off what I owe back home. And away from home. And doing all that brings me up to penniless, so–"

Rue laid a small drawstring pouch on the table. Belle cut herself off and stared at it.

"What's this?"

"Everything I can give you now," he said. "I don't know what it'll cover, but it'll only be a few more days until we have the Relic. I can give you everything else you need after that."

She pulled the bag closer and loosened the drawstring. The bag tipped over, spilling a small pile of coins onto the table. She started to count through them, and Duke tilted his head curiously. "You're really that close?"

"The only thing missing is the tiara," Rue said. "And if we don't have to fight over it, I'd rather not." He indicated the coin purse. "Take that up front. When we have the Relic, I'll pay off anything else you need, and get you enough money to carry you for a while. That shouldn't be a problem."

"Where'd you get this?"

"It's almost everything I have," Rue said.

Duke looked over to Belle, still sifting through the coins, and then back to Rue. "What do you want the Relic for?" he asked.

Rue closed his eyes and considered the question. After a few seconds of thought, he looked up again. "I lost somebody very close to me," he said. "I'm using the Relic to bring her back."

"By 'lost'," Duke began slowly, "you mean–"

"This'll cover the hotel," Belle said aloud, "and probably the bar tab. Err, no, we'll pay off the restaurants first, they aren't as... forgiving... as Jargen here." She sifted the remainder into its own pile, although it wasn't much. Duke leaned over to see what was left.

"How bad is the Hexagon?" he asked. "I think this can cover at least some of it."

"Mm." She did another quick check over the coin pile. "You're paying an awful lot for this tiara. I wonder if somebody on the black market wouldn't be willing to pay more..."

"Please, milady," Duke said. "Give it to him."

Belle shot him a dirty look. "Duke, the boy said he wanted to negotiate. I'm trying to negotiate."

"And that won't work," Rue said. "The tiara on its own is just an old treasure. It's worth something, I'm sure, but without the rest of the seal-key that's all it is."

She ground her teeth.

"I don't like doing this," she said. She exhaled a long, shaky breath. "But I can't afford pride right now." She reached across the table. "All right, fine. Deal."

Rue shook her hand, and when the handshake broke she pulled the coin purse back toward her.

"We're heading back to the hotel after we finish here," Belle said. "Room 312. Come by in... twenty minutes. I'll hand you the tiara then."

"Thank you," Rue said. He reached for his own drink, and suddenly Duke brought his glass over and gently clinked it against the side of Rue's.

"One more thing," Duke said. "There's a story behind this, yeah? I wanna hear it."

Rue was quiet for a few seconds, finishing the rest of his drink. When he placed the now-empty glass on the table, he nodded to Duke. "All right."

He stood up, inclined his head to both of them, and turned to leave the bar. Before he was quiet halfway to the door, he turned again to look at them.

"Don't worry about the drinks, either" he said. "They're on me."

He left the bar.