Splinter Angel

Mabb, Level 37 Herbalist to anyone who could only see his latest Class, was about to blow out the candle he'd been reading by when someone banged on his door. With a sigh he put down his book and got up, undoing the deadbolt and opening the door a crack.

"Yes?" he rumbled down at the guardsman who waited patiently in the gloom.

"Sorry to bother you, Mister Mabb," the young man said, "but Miss Lara's good and pissed again. Better go get 'er before we have to put her in a cell for the night."

"Is she still at Volkan's," he asked tiredly, "or did she make it out the door this time?"

"Still there, last I heard."

"Right. Thank you for letting me know, Wilk," Mabb said and closed the door.

Perhaps just once, he thought, he should let them put her in the cells for the night. It would be interesting to see if that would teach her anything. But not tonight. They were supposed to see the Captain early the next morning, and Mabb was not going to talk to that man with Lara looking like death warmed over and stinking of stale vomit. It would be mortifying. He had his pride, after all.

That, and he'd feel awful for abandoning his friend. But mostly the pride thing.

A few minutes later he'd changed out of his nightshirt into some trousers and a coat at least somewhat able to keep him warm. It was a nasty night, cold and with a foul-smelling fog rolling in from the marshes, but what the hell else was new? The separation between "settlement" and "marsh" lay mostly in that one was infested with gnats, midges and various other horrid things, and the other lay outside the palisade.

They didn't call it the Misery Splinter for nothing.

It was the Misty Fens Splinter officially, but that name had never stuck. For one, there wasn't a single fen to be found. For another, you didn't need to have a high Connection to see the primary emotion of anyone unfortunate enough to dwell in the Splinter.

At least the wooden walkways kept his boots mostly dry as he made his way from the "rich" — meaning marginally less ramshackle — part of town to the pit of abject despair that was everything else. Lara liked to go there because… honestly, Mabb wasn't sure. Self-flagellation, most likely. Or because the hooch was cheap enough for even her to drink herself unconscious without beggaring herself.

Whatever her reasons, she had a favorite place to drown her sorrows: Volkan's tavern. It wasn't terrible by Misery Splinter standards, but that only meant that it might not get condemned immediately anywhere else. When Mabb got there the lantern outside the door was dark, but the door wasn't barred. Either he was expected, or Volkan hoped that Lara might leave on her own. It wasn't a vain hope; it just wasn't very likely. Not once Lara really got going.

The tavern smelled of rotting wood, rotting rushes, and something faint that Mabb almost hoped was piss and not spilled drink — nothing meant for consumption should smell like that. The fact that the fire was still going and that the single room was warm didn't help. The place was empty except for two people: Volkan, the themion Barkeep, who was cleaning up — for certain interpretations of that word — and Lara, who sat slumped against the bar as far from the door as possible.

Volkan gave Mabb a grateful look and approached. "Thanks for showing, brother," the Barkeep said politely — people tended to be polite to you when you were a foot taller and broader than almost anyone else in the Splinter. "She's got a tab, and I know she's good for it. Just get her outta here, right? I'd hate to throw her in the cells, but I can't let her stay here, and I can't just throw her out."

Quite literally can't, most likely, Mabb thought, though that might be uncharitable of him. As far as he knew, Volkan tended to be honest; he just wouldn't stop a woman from drinking herself half blind and then letting her stumble out into the freezing night, if she could still walk. Mabb didn't voice any of that, of course. Instead he told the Barkeep, "I'll take care of her. Thank you for your patience." Then he approached his friend.

By the number of empty tumblers around her, she was having a particularly bad night.

"Hey, Lara," Mabb said, sitting down next to her. "You about ready to go home?"

She turned her head, took one look at him, then kissed the bar again. "'S not my home," she muttered into her folded arms. "Don' 'ave one. Haven't'ad a home for… don't even know. But 'specially not now."

"Okay," Mabb said agreeably. "But you do have a place where you usually rest your head. That isn't here, and Volkan wants to close up shop."

"'Preciate the custom," said the Themion Barkeep from where he was putting up chairs. "But I've got a bed to get to."

"Volkan has a bed to get to," Mabb repeated. "So how about we get you to yours?"

Instead of answering, Lara sniffled. "How'd this happen, Mabb?" she asked. "How the fuck did I end up here?"

Yeah, Mabb thought. A particularly bad night. A Tendy night. Those were the worst ones.

He knew where this was going. Sometimes you just had to lance the boil, and the sooner he got this particular pustule drained, the sooner Lara could start sleeping off the hooch. And so, hating himself just a little for what he was about to do but knowing that it was for the best, he said, "I believe there was a girl."

Lara, as she so often did when she was like this, started crying. Lara's tears were always soft, silent things; shameful in her own mind, something she didn't want anyone to see. But the two of them had known each other for long enough now that Mabb had earned the dubious honor of being allowed to see her cry without risking a trip to the Healer afterward, and so he sat there, patiently, waiting for the worst of her misery to run its course.

"I— I fucked up!" she sobbed into the splintered wood, her fingers combing through her short hair. "I coulda still been with 'er but I fucked up! How can someone fuck up so bad, Mabb?"

"We all make mistakes," he said kindly, like he always did. And he sympathized. He really did. Gods knew he'd had his share of fuckups. You didn't end up in Misery Splinter if something hadn't gone terribly wrong somewhere. Lara's case was pretty mild, honestly, which was probably why she was still mostly functional — when she was sober.

"Stupid!" Lara suddenly growled, banging her forehead into the bar hard enough to make Volkan shoot them both a worried look. "How could I be so stupid?" Another bang. "Stupid, stupid, stupid!" Every repetition was punctuated with a bang.

This was new, and that worried Mabb. This wasn't how Lara's Tendy nights usually went. She should be telling him about her mistakes, how she'd lost Tendy, but she wasn't supposed to get angry yet. She wasn't supposed to start calling herself names until she was too out of it to do any damage.

Perhaps he shouldn't have rushed things. But what was done was done, and he really did need her in some kind of decent state the next morning. The idea of having to handle the captain himself… no. Just, no.

Lara raised her head high enough that Mabb worried the next bang would split either skin or wood. "I'm such a dumb, fucking—" she said, and that was where Mabb drew the line.

"None of that now," he said, grabbing her forehead gently with one hand and her collar firmly with the other.

"Lemme go!" she sobbed, her whole body jerking as she tried to slam her head into the bar again. She grabbed his wrist with both hands and pulled with all her might, but no matter how strong she was — and Lara was plenty strong — she might as well have tried to move a mountain. When that didn't work she started beating on his arm instead, with about the same effect. She kept screaming and sobbing, though, which hurt Mabb far more than anything she could do to him physically. He liked Lara. She was a good friend, the only one he had in this gods-forsaken place, and he hated to see her in pain.

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Once Lara had tired herself out to the point that she slumped in his grip and went back to crying softly, Mabb decided that enough was enough. With an apologetic nod to Volkan, he scooped her up and left the tavern.

She felt so small in his arms. He knew that she was tall and strong for a human woman, but just then she was like a child. Even more so when she put her arms around his neck and turned into him, shielding herself from the cold and damp.

"Are you fuckin' carryin' me?" Lara mumbled into his shoulder after she'd stopped shaking.

Mabb sighed. "Yes, I am. Like a damn princess, too, Madam Silvervale"

"Fuck you, 'Silvervale'." She tightened her grip around his neck. "Fuck 'em, too. All of 'em. Not even on my Summ'ry no more. Just Lara now. Always just Lara."

That surprised him enough that he almost missed a step. When he'd recovered he said, "I'm sorry." What else could he possibly say to something like that? What did you tell someone when neither they nor their relatives considered each other family anymore, to the point that the System acknowledged the rejection?

Was that why she'd been especially bad tonight?

"Will you be okay?" he asked, but Lara didn't answer. Though her grip hadn't relaxed, her breathing was slow and even.

So very small, he thought. Like a child.

For all her bulk she barely weighed anything, and once he'd carried her back to their neighborhood he easily unlocked the door to her home with the spare key she'd given him. She barely reacted as he put her down with her feet off the bed so he could remove her boots, nor when he turned her and pulled a blanket over her. She snored softly as he put a bucket on the floor by her head — though with her Vitality, she was unlikely to need it — and lit a low fire in the fireplace.

She didn't react at all when he patted her on the shoulder and whispered, "Sleep well, little sister. I'll see you in the morning." Not until he'd opened the door did she mumble, "Love you, big brother."

When he turned to look back at her, she was fast asleep.

It was a terribly embarrassed Lara that knocked on Mabb's door the next morning. Not long after sunrise, either, Mabb noted with satisfaction.

"So? You coming or what?" she asked, sheepishly running a hand through her close-cropped hair.

"Whatever for?" he asked. "Our appointment is not for some time yet."

"Don't play dumb, big brother. I owe you breakfast."

"If anything worth the appellation can be found in this place," Mabb muttered. "But if it will make you feel any better, little sister, then I'd love to join you. I will just be a moment."

He left the door open as he put on his boots and coat, but Lara remained outside, looking a little green in the valiant trickle of morning sun that fought its way through the ever present clouds. And the haze. When there wasn't fog or mist, there was haze.

They didn't speak for the walk to the nearest tavern. They didn't speak as Mabb seized a table for them near the fireplace and Lara got them a spread of bread, drippings and cold meats — chicken and pork, because nothing lived in this cold, damp hell that was worth hunting. And they didn't speak for most of their meal. Lara would talk when she was ready, and Mabb saw no need to rush her.

Lara was staring into her warm beer when she said, "My family name disappeared yesterday."

Mabb nodded. "You mentioned that last night. For what it's worth, I'm sorry to hear it."

"From you, it's worth a lot." Lara looked up as she said it, giving him a wan smile before returning to pondering her drink. "I just— it shouldn't matter. I never expected to see them again, not after last time. And most people never have a family name in the first place, so who cares if I'm 'Lara Silvervale' or just 'Lara', right?"

"But that's not all there is to it," Mabb said, his voice soft with understanding.

"But that's not all there is to it," Lara agreed. "Mother told me that I wasn't her daughter anymore. Did I ever tell you that? That I'd shamed the family beyond forgiveness by running off with a girl the way I did. Coming back dressed the way I was, and with the Class I had. Not having a mage Class, I mean. But my name was always there, so I thought…" She sighed and took a deep drag on her beer. "Heat of the moment, you know? Guess not. Guess they finally decided."

"And that's why…?" He let the question hang.

Lara laughed mirthlessly. "No, if you can believe it. It had me right on the edge, but I was holding on. Then I'm walking down Lavender Street, on my way to the baths — because I needed to clear my head, you know? — and I heard this song—"

Lara's voice broke, though she tried to cover it with a cough, and Mabb understood. How many times had Lara told him about the song Tendy sang so often? The one she herself could never get quite right?

"Listen, little sister," he said. "I wish I was some fount of wisdom, or that I had some special insight into matters of the heart, but you know that I don't. All I can do is to tell you, from experience, that one day you will have healed, and be over her."

"You always say that," Lara muttered.

"I do. And I will keep saying it. I will not belittle your suffering. The pain you feel is real, and something is keeping the wound open. I wish I could tell you what. But one day it will be gone, and the wound will close, and you will heal. And when you do, I hope you leave this place for somewhere better." Then Mabb clapped his large hands together and rose. "But now, I believe that the time is slowly approaching for our appointment with the captain! Come, let's not be late! No need to make this any worse than it must be."

"Listen, Mabb, I don't understand why you stay here if it's so hard," Lara said a few minutes later, as they headed for the central square and the administrative building that dominated it. "You're the highest Level person in the Splinter. You will have to see him every so often."

"I was here first," Mabb muttered. "It's my Splinter more than his."

"But you hate it here! You've gained, what, 6 or 7 Levels in as many years? You're not getting rich, either. You gather as much goop and plants as you must to keep yourself housed, clothed, and fed, and to get a new book every so often. But hell, you're a Level 37 Herbalist! You could make that kind of living anywhere, instead of here." She gestured expansively at the haze, the bugs, the walkway slowly sinking into the waterlogged ground, and the rotting facades of the surrounding buildings. "Why?"

He chose not to counter with the obvious, "Why do you stay?" A Level 26 Slayer in a place with little to nothing worth slaying. He didn't ask both because he already knew the answer, and because it would be mean-spirited.

There were two parts to that answer, both simple. The first was that she never saved up enough silver to go anywhere; after eating most of her crystals, she barely had enough left over to pay for her drinking. The second part was the same as his own answer:

"Because this Splinter needs me."

Which was why they were both on their way to Administration, to meet a man who Mabb had hoped never to see again when he came to this miserable place.

"Mabb. Miss Silvervale. Good morning and thank you so much for coming."

Mabb and Lara both scowled. Mabb at the familiar use of his name, something the captain had no right to anymore, and Lara at the painful reminder. They'd only been in Captain Sarmon's office for ten seconds, and the man had already messed up.

Mabb briefly considered simply rising again and leaving, but in the end he chose not to. It just wouldn't do. No matter how uncomfortable Mabb was, Sarmon was Guild Captain of this Splinter. The Elfin Guild Administrator was the one and only captain, despite being only Level 28, since the Guild had never been able to convince more than one person at a time to take a posting here.

With his narrow face, bright green eyes, and sandy brown skin, he was also as frustratingly handsome as the day Mabb had first met him.

"It's not Silvervale anymore," Lara said sourly from beside Mabb. "Just Lara."

Sarmon's face fell, seeing that he'd made an unfortunate misstep even if he'd had no way of knowing. The man might be inconsiderate, power-hungry, and arrogant, but he'd never been imperceptive or stupid. "I'm sorry to hear that, Miss Lara," he said solemnly. "I hope you know that the Ardent Heart Guild cherishes and appreciates you, even if your estranged family does not. This Splinter is less than ideal, I know, but it would be in a worse place without you."

"Yeah, sure," Lara said. "Just tell us what you want, Captain. Another revenant?"

"I doubt he'd ask us both here for a revenant. That's your area of expertise," Mabb said, crossing his arms. "And I've told you, Captain Sarmon: it's Mister Mabb to you."

"Mabb, please," the captain said, a note of pain in his eyes. At the hard look Mabb returned, though, he sighed. "Yes, Mister Mabb. You're right. Do you both know that we've had twelve people vanish in the last two weeks?"

That made Mabb sit up a little straighter.

Lara said, "That sounds high."

"It is," the captain confirmed. "Very high. One or two every other week is unfortunately normal. Five one week, seven the next? It's unheard of in the history of the Splinter."

"Alright, so we're looking at a dozen potential revenants." Lara leaned back in her chair, biting her lip thoughtfully for a few moments before saying, "That's going to take some work to clear out. Won't be safe, easy, or cheap. Still, why's Mabb here?"

"I would like the two of you, together, to investigate the cause of these disappearances," the captain said. "Whatever it might be, animal, plant, or malice. That, and to eliminate any revenants that may have risen. As for why Mabb— sorry, Mister Mabb, he is the highest Level person in the Splinter, and without breaking confidentiality I can say that I know for a fact that he has both Skills and experience that will help, should he be forced to fight."

"You can fight, Mabb?" Lara said, looking at him with surprise. "You never told me that! I mean, you're a big lug, brother, but I didn't want to assume."

"I have some ability, yes," Mabb said, glowering at the captain. This was low, even for him.

"Well, hells. Alright, then. I mean, twelve people in two weeks. Not like I can say no," Lara said.

"Nor I," Mabb said, still scowling.