ARC 7: CHAPTER 34: FALSTAFF

I followed the vampire into the woods while leading my chimera by the reins. I walked on foot, but had Delphine remain saddled. Though I felt little danger from Eilidh anymore, that didn’t necessarily go for every other changeling and night creature I sensed around us. Most of them kept at a distance, but I knew we were thoroughly surrounded.

Eilidh slowed her pace so I could walk close behind her. I sensed words behind her bloodless lips, but she hesitated.

“I’m sorry,” I said. “For not saving you.”

She shook her head. “Don’t be. It’s not so bad. In a lot of ways I think maybe this is better. I get to stay young forever, and I don’t feel scared of much anymore. I got by before by making friends and staying in the Keeper’s good graces, but the Backroad wasn’t always very safe for a mere human.”

“What’s it like?” I asked.

“Being dead?”

“Being a vampire.”

She eyed me sidelong. “Catrin never talked about it?”

“She did,” I admitted. “But she was born that way. You were human until not long ago. I’m curious, but you don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to.”

Eilidh thought about it for a dozen steps. “Cold, mostly, especially when I’m hungry. I’m almost always hungry. The night is a brighter place, but it’s got more walls than before. Hard to explain. I can see the edges, you know?”

“The edges?” I asked.

“Hallowed ground. When the sun is about to peek over the horizon. Where the Living Moon shines bright enough to weaken me. Fairy groves and cottages and city lights… they all call to me, but I know it’s like how the lit brazier calls to the moth. It can be very disorienting. The thirst is a pain in the ass, too. It was three weeks before they let me have my first.”

“Your first?”

She threw me a dubious look. “You know what we do, right?”

A blush crept up my neck. “Ah. So before then, you…”

“Animal blood mostly, which was rancid. I almost killed my first customer after the change, but one of the older girls was there to stop me. It’s gotten easier since then.”

I had one more question I wanted to ask, something that’d been bothering me since I’d met her brother, but wasn’t certain how she’d take it and waited too long. Eilidh nodded forward. “We’re here.”

I expected to see the lights of the Backroad Inn ahead, but instead only made out the flickering heat of a single campfire. Eilidh moved into a small clearing, and in front of a dead old oak split by lightning sat the Keeper. The Backroad’s proprietor crouched on the far side of the fire, warming his hands. He wore a long leather coat over simple clothes, a scarf around his neck and a cap with long ears over his head. He looked like any traveler, and bore no weapons.

I stopped at the edge of the clearing. Morgause snorted behind me, nervous at all the other predators around us. Eilidh moved to stand by her master’s side and glanced at me expectantly.

“You didn’t say you’d bring company,” the Keeper told me. His voice, as usual, was a phlegmatic growl. “The woman wasn’t invited, unless…”

He lifted a gray eyebrow. I shook my head. “She’s not for your inn.”

Falstaff shrugged his bony shoulders. “Your message said you’d have information for me. I know what happened at the mountain, was that it?”

I hid my smile. It’d been a lie at the time, a pretense to get this meeting despite the Keeper’s insistence on hiding his inn until things blew over. But I didn’t need to lie anymore, because I’d gotten something of real use since.

Falstaff flicked a hand in a vague motion, and I let Delphine take the scadumare’s reins and walked forward. When I reached the dancing edge of the campfire’s light, something made me pause. I attempted to hide my reaction. A strange feeling had just come over me. Apprehension?

Falstaff widened his eyes expectantly. “Well? What are you waiting for?”

Eilidh watched me too, frowning. I started to step into the light, and the night around me seemed to roil. Disoriented, I caught myself on a flat foot just before stumbling back.

Falstaff chortled. “Well well, what’s this? Has the holy knight done something naughty?”

I stared at the campfire and realized what the problem was. The dead could not enter the light of a traveler’s campfire without an invitation, just like they couldn’t step over the threshold of a home guarded by a hearth.

For a moment I panicked. But I wasn’t…

Was I?

I caught Eilidh’s eye. She shook her head, and I let out a sigh of relief as I realized the problem. It wasn’t me

, but what I carried with me.

Focusing, I stepped over the line between the night and the firelight. Again the darkness seemed to recoil, but this time I left it behind. Angry whispers chased me as the ghosts clinging to my shadow, warming themselves on my aura, were torn away as I passed a point they couldn’t follow. At the same moment, I felt a portion of my new strength leave me. It wasn’t a small one, either.

That’s dangerous, I thought. And good to know.

Falstaff’s gleeful expression soured, though I saw the calculation in his ghoulish eyes. “You’ve done something,” he said.

“Yes, but that’s not what we’re here to talk about.” A log was set opposite the innkeeper. I squatted down on it, adjusting my cloak and letting out a grunt as the weight of armor on my limbs shifted. “I have information for you, and a proposal.”

The Keeper sniffed contemptuously. “If it’s about Tol, then save your breath. Everyone from the River Os to the Bannerlands is already talking about it by now, you’re too late.”

I shook my head. “Not quite, though that has something to do with it. Wouldn’t you like me to confirm some things?”

The Keeper’s eyes narrowed, and I knew I had him. He’d have heard wild rumors and hearsay, but few facts. Instead of asking any questions, however, his eyes slid from my face to regard Delphine. By his expression I didn’t think he knew who she was, but he’d played me like a fiddle once before. Best to not assume what he did or didn’t know, and hope this gamble paid off.

“Where’s Vicar?” He asked.

“Not with me anymore.”

Falstaff snorted and poked at the campfire with a long stick. Something in it cracked and sparks tumbled into the frozen air. “Did you kill him?”

I studied him closely. Was he deflecting? Had Vicar gotten to him first and spun his own tale? Was Falstaff cooperating with the Credo? If so, then I’d already lost this and walked right into a trap.

Press forward. Think and react, don’t let him manipulate you.

“Is Saska here?” I asked.

Some of the flippancy went out of the man. “No. She’s guarding the inn, though I’ve brought a good number of our girls and a few of the guests.”

Why? I wanted to ask. Instead of asking, I thought about it and came to the obvious conclusion. “You’re considering handing me over to the Credo, aren’t you?”

Eilidh winced. Falstaff’s milky eyes watched me coolly.

“Because you’re a runaway,” I continued. “You were a crowfriar, but you escaped the Iron Tribunal and fled into this land where they had no power. But now they’re here, and you’re still indebted to them, so you’re trying to find ways to protect yourself.”

“And us,” Eilidh muttered.

“Quiet,” Falstaff ordered. The vampire folded her arms and turned her troubled face away. The Keeper leaned forward to watch me over the fire. “Was the Gorelion really there?”

Since I had more cards to play, I decided to give him this one without fuss. “Yes. I saw him myself.”

What little color remained in Eilidh’s face drained away. The woods filled with whispered conversations. Falstaff worked his jaw a minute, drumming bony fingers against his left knee.

“Shit,” was all he said.

“Not just him,” I added. “Chamael fought him, but lost. There were other seraphim there. Not many, but enough to make the ogres and demons retreat. It’s a new war, possibly just as bad as the last one.”

Falstaff lazily uncurled a finger towards me. “And you got out without killing the Saint or the Gorelion, and now you’re meeting me while stinking of necromancy and armed with new weapons. I’m guessing a lot’s happened in the weeks since I’ve seen you, Hewer.”

I nodded. “That’s true enough.”

Falstaff tilted his head. “So… what? Is that it? You wanted to tell me things are going to shit again?”

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His flippant tone didn’t surprise me, and I took it in stride. “You’re a smart man, Keeper. What does me being here tell you? I’d like to know. Answer me that, and I’ll give you what my message promised.”

His bored expression slowly faded as he considered me. “What does it tell me? That’s what you want in return for what you just gave away?”

I nodded once.

He clasped his fingers together, his gaunt features working as he thought. “The fact Vicar isn’t with you anymore and the things I’ve been hearing from the capital tell me a lot. It tells me he’s got the damned scroll back, that you failed, and now everything is about to go to shit. The fucking Gorelion has left Seydis and started his war, there’s a new crusade about to be unleashed, and there’s talk of giving the Inquisition emergency powers.”

He lifted a finger, and in that moment I realized he was angry. “And they always get the worst of it. The changelings, the outcast, the misbegotten. All the sorry bastards the rest of you have let fall into the cracks. They’ll either be hunted down by inquisitors and arrogant knights, or they’ll have to turn to the other side and become their darkest selves just to survive. I’ve seen it before.”

I opened my mouth, but closed it just before saying something foolish. I’d been about to throw an and you care? at the man. I’d been about to accuse him of being a spider who brought in lost and desperate people, offering them up as meals or whoring them out for his own gain.

You bought Eilidh. I wanted to accuse him of that too, but I kept my mouth shut.

It wasn’t why I was here, and it was obvious that the existence of the Backroad had more complexity than I’d been willing to admit. It wasn’t a good place, not even close, but many relied on it. The Choir, the Accord, and the elves wouldn’t represent Urn’s monsters. The Keeper did. He’d been a missionary of Hell once. Dark secrets and leverage were what he knew.

Was it any surprise he’d built this system? It was predicated on keeping bloodshed to a minimum, giving those who chose to use it a way to sate their appetites without hunting across the land’s roads and villages.

I’d thrown a lot of shade at this man. I would never like him, but just like many others I needed him. He was the devil I knew.

“You’re right.”

Falstaff’s eyes widened, but he hid his surprise behind his usual surly mask. “Thanks for noticing the obvious.”

“You’re right,” I repeated. “There were changelings at Tol, too. How many of the kind you mingle with might go Irk if nothing’s done? Which is exactly why I set this meeting up. The Credo plotted this all along. Lias wouldn’t have taken their magic scroll otherwise, he wouldn’t have even had access to it if they weren’t using it. And they are, Falstaff. They’re doing it at Baille Os, and soon.”

I took a breath and gave him what he wanted, what I knew would get him to listen. “The Zosite are behind the attack on Heavensreach. They wanted this war to start exactly when and where it did.”

The entire forest filled with sudden whispering as the Keeper’s people started speaking amongst themselves. It was hard to pick out the tone of that sound, because the voices barely sounded human and all melded together. Falstaff never took his half-blind eyes off me, but held up a hand and the noise ceased. Even the wind stopped, and the fire seemed to dim.

“Explain,” he said in a low voice.

And I did. I told him all of it, or at least the relevant parts. I didn’t mention that Urddha had helped me or that Lias was still alive and in her custody. I also didn’t explain Lias’s original plan with the Zoscian, though I did mention the sabotage he’d started with the artifact because I knew it would interest the man.

“This would have all kicked off weeks ago if Lias hadn’t stolen the scroll,” I explained. “They’ve got the Cardinal in their power, and they’re going to have him sign his name on the volumen in tangent with launching the crusade. They’ll make the appearance of Hell’s own angels seem like a divine revelation and turn this war to their own purposes.”

Falstaff rubbed at his chin. “Some of the Choir will turncoat. A lot of them weren’t happy with the God-Queen’s original decision to kick the Zosite into the mud. The war will be bloody, but it won’t last long. Once they’re the real power behind Urn’s kingdoms, they’ll start making the changes they please and focus their attention on the lion.”

I nodded, choosing not to add the part I knew he was also thinking about. Once the Zosite had returned to this world, they wouldn’t allow an errant servant who’d helped one of their prisoners escape and fled them to remain free. He and Saska would be caught, and their fate wouldn’t be pleasant.

I’d banked on appealing to his sense of self preservation. That he’d immediately talked about protecting Urn’s nightborn had taken me aback, though part of me wondered if he’d just said it for the benefit of those listening. Always hard to tell with him.

The Keeper ended his contemplation and spread his hands out. “And you’re telling me all of this for a reason, I assume.”

My turn to lean forward. I pressed my hands to my knees and spoke louder, though I knew every pair of ears in the woods could hear me even if I whispered. “I’m going to try and stop the Credo from opening their door, but the chances of me succeeding alone are slim. There’s an army gathering at the city, and there’s no telling how many of its captains and clericons have been subverted by the friars. I can’t fight an army alone, and sneaking inside is going to be just as problematic. They’ll have hidden devils all over the place. Back in Tol, they were using fetterfiends. My assumption is that they’ve called up reinforcements from Orkael with some lesser version of this same ritual.”

Falstaff folded his arms and nodded. “They would have, yes. That’s standard practice for a Rite of Transposition. It weakens the barriers between dimensions so there’s less chance of the final ritual going sour.”

I leaned close to the fire. “I’m telling you all of this because I want your help, Falstaff. Yours and the Backroad’s. I can’t fight the Credo on my own. This is your land too, the one you chose. Their fates are wrapped up in this conflict as well.” I waved to the ones waiting amid the trees. “Help me. Fight with me against them.”

The Keeper’s scowl deepened. “Help you break into the grand cathedral in Baille Os in the middle of all this? You’re mad. You’ll get anyone who goes with you killed, and every good soul who dies will be blamed on us.” He jabbed a bony finger into his chest. “We’ve got enough blood on our hands, real and imagined. Life under the Tribunal will be hard for you mortals, but we’re made of sturdier stuff. We can survive it. We might even thrive.”

He leaned back. “As for me and Saska… we have options, especially if we turn you over.”

I tried to keep relaxed. If I reacted badly and made him give the order, then this was all for nothing and I might not get my chance to stop Vicar. So I made an effort to keep my voice calm. “I’m not asking for some kind of all out assault. Your people have abilities and connections that could help me. I just need to get close.”

I could tell he wasn’t convinced. Adopting a bored expression, the Keeper gestured with his chin. “Who’s the woman?”

I kept myself from glancing back at Delphine. “She’s a scholar, an expert on the occult and a physician of some skill. She’s helped me.”

“That didn’t answer my fucking question. Who is she? Tell me, or I’ll have my girls take her.”

This time, I didn’t bother hiding the anger in my voice. “Don’t threaten me, Falstaff. You might outnumber me, but that doesn’t mean this will go the way you think. Things are different now.”

I didn’t make it happen intentionally, or put any particular will or supernatural might behind the statement, but I felt the nighttime shadows suddenly gather close around the campfire as the spirits sensed my emotion. Behind and around me, the darkness seemed to become a thick miasma. I could hear subtle voices in that gloom encouraging me to draw steel, to fight.

I ignored them, at least for now.

Falstaff bared his gray teeth. “My, my. You really have become something dire, haven’t you?”

I didn’t answer, just held his gaze. He glared at me, and I felt the campfire between us start to shift as something hiding within it uncoiled. Eilidh looked nervous, and kept tapping her foot against the grass.

“Oh, for the love of…”

Delphine dismounted and walked forward to stand next to me. “I am Doctor Delphine Roch. As Alken said, I am a scholar. More precisely, I am a historian, physiker, and something of an amateur alchemist.”

The tension in the Keeper’s posture relaxed as he cast Delphine an amused look. “A polymath? Impressive, but it doesn’t tell me what I care to hear. Why are you involved with him? And why doesn’t he want me to know? Tell me, or I give you both nothing.”

She glanced at me sidelong, hesitated, then took a steadying breath and continued. “I was working with the Priory as a consultant. I helped design the new Knights Penitent.”

Falstaff nodded slowly. “That’s something… but there’s more. I see it in his face.” He pointed at me. “I can smell when there’s a secret someone’s holding onto.”

Delphine laced her fingers together and let a frozen breath billow out over the fire before she answered. “I was once called Sister Vera, a novice in the Basilica of St. Honorine in Elfhome.”

I sighed. Falstaff’s eyes slowly widened as he regarded the woman. “You were a cenobite. Not only that, but…” His gaze drifted back to me. “Damn, Hewer, but you are a magnet for coincidence.”

“I can use the Zoscian,” Delphine blurted before I could stop her.

“Damn it, woman!” I stood and wheeled on her. “Do you have any idea who this man is!?”

She just turned her nose up stubbornly, though the effect was somewhat ruined considering she had to lift her head to meet my gaze anyway. “I believe I do. This is the Keeper of the Backroad Inn, a notorious figure rumored to be a broker of secrets and dark bargains, who attracts all manner of villain and desperate soul to him.”

She glanced at the man in question. “I’m also fairly certain he is a crowfriar, or something very similar.” She traced the kohl she’d rubbed under her eyes while I’d been talking with Falstaff with a thumb. “This mixture is my own design. I can see your aura, Keeper, and tell that you’re marked by Hell.”

He gave her a brief round of applause. “Very good, miss. And you’re with him instead of the inquisitors because…” He let the question hang.

“My own reasons,” Delphine said primly. “Now are you going to help us or not? Alken is right. What happens at Baille Os is going to have drastic consequences for all of us. You strike me as a man who thrives on exploiting the status quo, not one who enjoys unchecked chaos.”

“I’ve been known to enjoy a bit of gambling on occasion.”

Ominous laughter ghosted through the trees.

Delphine arched an eyebrow, doing an excellent job pretending not to be bothered by the unsettling laughter. I could tell it did unsettle her because her hands were shaking, but she clasped them tightly and spoke with the confidence of a trained orator. “Then let me elaborate on this gamble you seem so set on making, Keeper. If you wait to see how things pan out, and Vicar manages to see his plot through, then your former masters return to this land. They might destroy you, or imprison you, both of which are likely from what I know of Hell’s seraphim. They don’t much seem the forgiving sort, or am I wrong?”

The evil titters faded, as did the Keeper’s smile. I kept my peace, though inwardly part of me enjoyed seeing him just as taken aback by her acerbity as I’d been.

“So chances are they have a pit waiting for you,” Delphine continued after a calculated pause. “But let us, for the sake of debate, say that things go your way. Because you turn us over to your old compatriots and help pave the way for the Tribunal’s grand return, they give you leniency and don’t torture you for the next eternity. Now things go back to however they were before you escaped. You become a cog in the Tribunal’s machine again, put back to work poaching souls for them instead of for yourself. Everything you’ve built becomes an asset for them, every connection you’ve made and comfort you’ve struggled for falls into their hands, free to be used however and for whoever they please.”

Delphine lifted her clasped hands, taking on something very like a pose of prayer. “Have I misunderstood anything about how your old masters operate, Keeper? I’m certain you know better than I, having first hand experience.”

Silence. I’d never seen such a glare on Falstaff’s face. Delphine didn’t so much as blink at his quiet rage.

“Or,” she added in a lighter tone, “you help us stop the Credo and keep things as they are, where you are a feared and respected figure across this corner of the world, beholden to no one, the soul master of your own works. That is the gamble, the way I see it.”

I added on to that speech in a soft voice. “What would Saska tell you to do, Falstaff?”

The Keeper’s shoulders slumped. “Fuck. Why did I everlet Cat bring you through my front door? You’ve been a scourge on me, Hewer.”

That was probably true.

But he did agree to help us.

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