Author's Note: You've been asking. You've been guessing. So yeah, here's the brown blood. Enjoy.
Behind Blue Lies – Part 5
There was no time the next night to do much more than deal with issues at the manufacturing facility and the second she had been assigned a sweep ago. Plus disappearing from Kanaya's side so soon after the happened would be suspicious. Still, there was time enough in the night to manage what she had to, construct an excuse for her trip out of the city, and get everything arranged. And, when the sun began to set the next day, Vriska took her mended solar protection garment down from its hook, strapped her dagger to her thigh, and bundled herself up, making sure to grab her document case before leaving the hive.
The land crawler she'd chartered waited just outside the communal hivesteam, and when Vriska climbed in the pre-programmed computerized voice croaked out of a speaker, requesting her desired location. Vriska pulled out a sheet and fed it into the scanner. At length the computer dinged pleasantly and the crawler began to trundle towards the distant plains land where her possible brownblooded target lived and worked. The trip, the computer display informed her, would take nearly two hours, so Vriska pulled some paperwork and an ink stick out of her document case and started to work through some paperwork she would need for the upcoming meeting with the brown.
It wasn't like she could just come right now, and tell this brown why she was around and interested. This was how she worked—except in the case of Sollux—through indirect assistance. After all, the hierarchists couldn't give Vriska a problem for buying up the land or service of some lowblood they beat. She had no reason to believe the trolls she was always planning to work with—she always backdated documents—had been hit by her comrades when she was never given names, descriptions, or locations. And the ones she helped never questioned the windfall she offered them. Here they were at their worst—hives destroyed, their jobs ruined, beaten and broken and terrified—and out of the night someone appeared to offer them a new life, a second chance, and the funds to rebuild or heal. Thus Vriska helped them and they never knew what brought her there but the reasons she gave, which were always exactly what they needed to hear. Sollux was her exception. He'd sought her out, having put together all the data points in that genius thinkpan of his. He'd noticed a pattern, guessed what it meant, and figured out where he thought it pointed to. Then he'd found her and prayed.
The task had been quite worthwhile for her too. Sollux had turned around after Vriska helped his guardian a sweep and a half ago, and set up her 'Sp8der We8.' Talented, observant, and crafty warn bloods he could trust, that he'd known for sweeps or met in person were harnessed together into a surveillance web that he managed, relaying suspected hierarchist activity to Sollux and ultimately Vriska to act on as she found appropriate and manageable. They even donated funds to assist her, helped her manage secret, shell businesses she used the funds from to help those hurt by hierarchists. Contests were won here, donations found there, and business opportunities where Vriska could justify it.
This time it was a business opportunity she was going to offer the brown. It was all she could do to cover whatever unknown damages Calgor and his crew had dealt the poor guy. Well, maybe not poor guy. Unable to focus on the paperwork, Vriska tucked it away and withdrew instead the file she had received from Sollux and had printed at the office the night before. It was everything he had found in the registry about the brown, and some other information besides. Hopefully she could find something in the twice scanned files that would help her craft the perfect offer for the brown. Something that would tell her whether killing Calgor—in part on this troll's behalf—had been worth it.
Something to drive the daymares away.
It had been no easier for her to sleep through the day before this than it had the one before that. She'd snuck two sopor tablets before hitting the slab that Remium had been glad enough to secure for her from the pharmaculturator friend of his. There were suggestions in recent health mender blogs that the anti-violence tablets also reduced the occurrence of daymares when taken in slightly larger quantities. It hadn't been enough for Vriska, though. Maybe her empathy had been feeding on itself over day and feeding the mares. Maybe the healthmenders were wrong in their guesses for uses for the rarely used medication. Either way it didn't matter; she'd still dreamed horrible things. This time instead of Calgor it was her ex-kismesis. Terezi, in full legisticator regalla, declaring her guilty of treason against the system, the Empress, and her duty as a cool blood. It was Terezi that ran her through for murder, Calgor staring on hornless, finless, and his eyes a void of white as she bled and her bloodpusher slowly came to a stop.
The rest of the night she spent in forums online, arguing about nothing of consequence with wrigglers and trolls too foolish to know better.
Maybe after this she would sleep the day through uninterrupted. In the meantime Vriska looked over her file and worked on crafting a deal that would tempt the best beastalker into seeing things her way.
The crawler left her off at a refueling station half a mile from her destination, and Vriska transferred credits to the system to pay for the fuel. Once the computer understood it was to wait until she returned and input her custom code, Vriska gathered her things and began to walk the rest of the way to her target's hive. This was her final chance to go over the offer in her head and make sure it was tempting, and she was sure it would be. Who, after all, would remain here, so far from civilization when they could move to the city ring and make a more comfortable living?
Far sooner than expected, Vriska found herself before a large, wooden fence about chest high, and she stared at it in wonder. Why was there one of these things, here, and blocking her path to the target? What in the Empress's name had Sollux missed?
There wasn't much to be done for it, though, and Vriska scrambled—with no little loss of dignity—over the fence and beyond it. Huffily she smoothed her clothes, grabbed up her protection garment and document case, and continued ahead, though not before her action drove a pure white hopbeast out of cover. The creature bounded off at full speed before her, and something told Vriska that her approach would not go unknown. Probably better now. The other lowbloods—warmbloods she sometimes had to remind herself to her shame—she'd dealt with had always been skittish at first. Better he knew she was coming and had time to prepare himself before her arrival.
Too bad there had been nothing to prepare Vriska for her arrival. Sure, she'd seen the fanciful hive rising out of the pink of the night, she'd even been able to pick out the windmill and beast hive that marked this place as a functional animalmender's location as well as troll's hive, but nothing really prepared her for how she found him. The closer she approached the more Vriska could see a mob of white figures under a solarshade before the hive. There was a hootbeast high on a support, looking at her with its head tilted at a curious angle. A smallish hoofbeast pawed at the ground but seemed unfazed by Vriska's approach. Nearly an entire flock of tweetbeasts crowded along the wires that held the solarshade in place. A large, two-mouthed purrbeast was curled up, asleep, and basking the warmth of the moon light. And in the midst of it all, hopbeast in his lap, was one Tavros Nitram.
The photo Sollux had drudged up did the troll no justice. It had been taken three sweeps ago at the regular six sweep update that the psychic registry apparently did, and showed a young, timid troll with all the gangliness a troll that age had. This troll had grown out of that, growing into his body as much as he had into the large chargebeast-like horns that adorned his head. As a concession to how hard his hair must have been to manage with those horns, Nitram's hair was cut into a long-haired, free-lying mohawk that gathered into a hoofbeast tail at the top of his neck. His arms were well built with muscles suited to one who spent all their time managing animal charges and their care, and while his legs were covered with rough-spun, loose pants suited to outdoor work, Vriska was sure they had to be just as strong.
Yet not all was well with the troll. His left arm was being held close to his chest by a rather rough looking sling, and it was covered with painful looking bruises. Worse than that was the state of his right leg. It too was roughly bound with sticks and cloth, and Vriska was positive from this distance that the limb was broken. There were other things Vriska could only tell from her distance because of her vision eightfold. His face and what was visible of his chest because of his low cut shirt was covered with bruises. And poorly tended cuts, likely because the pain in his injured arm had been too much to allow him much motion. More disturbing than anything was a wicked looking crack in his left horn, far too far out of the reach of his good arm to have let him pack it with healing plaster. There was little worse than a horn injury gone back, the soft inner horn being connected to blood vessels that lead straight into the thinkpan. A bad infection could easily lead to any number of pan rotting diseases, and all of those either killed or left a troll mad.
There was no denying that Tavros Nitram, perhaps more than any troll she'd met since helping her wardmates, needed help. And Vriska might be the only help this troll got.
Carefully she reached her gift before her as she continued confidently forward, and to her utter surprise, she felt that Nitram wasn't in the least worried by her approach. Sure he was confused by it, even intrigued, but he wasn't afraid. That was a first. When he reached for a padded stick at his side it wasn't even out of fear he'd have to defend himself, but in eagerness. For what? Greeting her? None of this made any sense. Did it maybe have to do with the fact he was surrounded by beasts—all of which were now watching her—and the fact that one cerulean wouldn't be able to do much against so many?
"Tavros Nitram?" she called, even as she watched the injured troll tuck the padded stick under his right arm, and use it to help him get to his feet while putting minimal weight on the broken leg.
"Yes," he answered, hobbling carefully forward half a step. "Um, no mean to be, uh, rude or anything, but who are you?"
"My name is Vriska Sekret. I'm a business manager in the city circle, and I've got a proposition for you."
"Why?"
The point blank question was enough to throw Vriska off and make her stop midstep. It was a bad idea because it upset her balance and suddenly she was stumbling forward a step. Even as she started to fall her weight was suddenly being held up, her face buried in the hay scented fur of the young hoofbeast. Something, Tavros, had motivated the beast forward to help her. For a moment she stood there, mostly supported by the hoofbeast, as she hid her face in its rough white fur and hid the cold blush that had risen to her face. Here she was, meaning to impress the brownblood and sweep in to save him, and he stepped in and saved her from herself.
Yep, this was going to be aaaaaaaall kinds of fantastic.
At last she pushed herself fully vertical, quietly thanked the hoofbeast for its patience, and restored the cool, professional expression on her face as she looked at Nitram. He stood there, watching her with patient eyes, an underlying layer of amusement lingering in the air around him. Just looking at him, studying her carefully as she composed herself. The question still lingered in the air between them, huge and hideous.
The lie was there in her head, in easy reach. The new manufacturing center she had acquired produced items for the maintenance of the beast companions some trolls kept and she needed an expert consultant. She'd fund his relocation of business and hive, in return for her assistance, and she would provide a healthy stipend to the move. Except the words seemed so far away now. The lie wouldn't suffice. Nitram had taken the worst a viscous troll like Calgor could dish out, and he hadn't even gone to seek help. He'd patched himself up as best he could, and gone on about his life. There was a strength here, quiet and bright, that she couldn't help but envy.
"What happened to you?" Vriska asked instead of answering.
"The waves can be pretty, uh, rough at times."
He was lying, Vriska knew it, but she nodded sagely as if in agreement. She couldn't even begin to fathom why he would lie about it. What did he get from it? Did he think she would think less of him if he told the truth? Or was it that he thought her a hierarchist? Not that he'd be exactly wrong to believe it.
"Especially when they don't stop hitting."
Nitram's eyes went almost imperceptibly wider, then they narrowed back a fraction. The beasts around him shifted nervously for a moment before going back to what they were doing as if nothing had happened. All Vriska could do was look on patiently.
"Yeah, I suppose you're right. Um, what did you say you were here for again?"
Once more the lie flashed to her lips, but for once Vriska pushed it aside and took the route she tried less: the truth.
"To help you."
This was left hanging between them a moment, a delicate and gossamer web of truth that Nitram could destroy with a single word. Instead he half smiled and nodded.
"I believe you."
It was such a wonder that Vriska couldn't hold back a, "Why?"
"You know I'm a beastalker," he responded, obviously not doubting that for even a moment. "What few people seem to, uh, appreciate about the powers I'm endowed with is that what the animals feel, I can feel through them. When they saw you they didn't, um, sense any malice or stuff like that. They say you're a good person."
All her sweeps of practice, her carefully shaped facade and artfully crated lies and he saw through her with chirpbeasts. It was frustrating and refreshing all at once. Beyond Sollux, Remium and her clade, few people saw Vriska for what she was any more. They saw who she told them to see, and it was never pleasant.
"Your beasts and I have something in common then."
"Oh?"
"Two if you want to count the helping. Where are your health supplies? It's about time that you got some serious looking over."
"Huh? Oh, yeah, I've got one or ten in the hive. Let me show you where."
"Are you sure you should be hobbling around a lot?"
Nitram gave her a look that seemed to ask who she was to question him. Vriska raised her hands before her defensively, which looked silly with her protection garment slung over one arm and her document case in her other hand.
"Are you even good with health mending?" he shot back, half serious, half amused.
It was Vriska's turn to shoot him a look. While she knew she didn't seem the type, part of her training with daggers had been in dealing with wounds. Spided hadn't been sure of the value, but her mentor refused to teach her how to do anything without having the chance to teach her how to deal with the damage she dealt. She was no professional health tender, but she knew her way around poultices, balms, gauzes, and meowbeast gut threads. Her trainer even said her hand had all the steadiness it needed to properly patch horns, which came in part from her vision eightfold.
"Well, you best start hobbling, Nitram. Your wounds aren't going to see to themselves for all that you think they will."
"Tavros."
"Huh?"
"You can call me Tavros if I can, uh, call you Vriska."
"Deal. Not get moving. I haven't got all night."