NOVEL NEXT 19. Free To Go
I awake to the sensation of soft bedding and silk sheets with a vaguely floral scent. I blink my eyes open and look around at...nothing. Blurs and blobs. Right—this body's eyes are atrociously weak. I'm familiar with the concept of spectacles, of course, but it's almost inconceivable that a simple piece of glass could correct such blindness. Is it even possible?
They've hinted without saying as much, but the world the others come from is very different. With more complex machines and intricate artisanship. If their spectacles were to be destroyed, could they ever be replaced? Maybe with skills, but I bet it would take a very dedicated craftswoman.
I'm struck by a fleeting impulse to just smash them, but it passes quickly. I'd only be dooming myself, and besides, I'm not that petty. I would like to see, though—where are they? Sitting up in bed and fumbling around yields no results.
"Here," an unfamiliar voice says from next to me. A vaguely person-shaped blob holding out their hand.
I accept the spectacles and delicately unfold the spindly little arms before replacing them on this body's face. Once more blessed with the gift of vision, I look up at my benefactor to see a stoic militiaman, already stepping back and assuming a rigid military posture.
"Thank you," I say, bowing at the waist as I've seen the others do. A poor replica of a proper polite bow, but one that has to suffice.
He returns the bow, but says nothing. Not feeling particularly conversational, I look around the room instead. It's a bedroom. Richly painted in the blue, white, and gold colors favored by the mistress of the estate, but otherwise undecorated beyond a vanity and wardrobe. A guest room, I suppose.
Not quite the prison cell I expected.
"Where—?" I begin, but a vicious stabbing pain between my eyebrows interrupts me.
Blood and acid, my head! In my old life, I rarely had the opportunity to drink alcohol. Such luxuries were typically reserved for the higher ranked sisters, and I only had a few second hand accounts of the consequences of drinking in excess.
I always thought they were exaggerated. Now I apologize to all the sisters whose pain I so foolishly dismissed.
As if triggered by the headache, a number of other aches and pains bubble up to the surface to make themselves known. A burning sting across the cheek, a deep twinging pain in the shoulder, all manner of cuts and bruises across the rest of the body, and a bone deep weariness that threatens to call me back to sleep despite only just having awoken.
"Lady Goa has instructed that you are to stay in bed until she says otherwise," the militiaman helpfully informs me. As if there was any risk of me leaving it right now. "As has Sheriff Rania."
For very different reasons, no doubt. I haven't missed the fact that my company is armed with both a shortsword and one of those awful new "guns" the others are so intrigued by. I wince and grab my shoulder as it randomly twinges again. I don't care for them.
"I see," I mutter quietly. Goddess, my own voice hurts my head. No wonder the rest are still asleep. "Could you inform them I'm awake?"
He pauses to consider it for a moment, then knocks on the door. I try not to wince at the sound. It opens immediately, just a crack, and the guard has a hushed exchange with what I presume is another guard posted outside of my unusually plush cell.
The setting may be more comfortable than usual, but I am clearly still a prisoner. Better to be a prisoner of the law than whoever those maniacs last night were. I never wanted to experience something like that again. The militia was right to arrest her for it, but I'm glad Miss Violet brought those villains to justice.
It doesn't take long before Lady Talla comes bustling into the room, ignoring the protests of the sheriff following behind her.
"Lady Goa, you can't just—!"
"Allie! You're awake!" Talla says far too loudly, rushing over to take my hands.
"Please, I have to insist that the prisoner—"
"Your prisoner just experienced severe physical, magical, and mental trauma," Talla insists. "She needs a healer."
"And she's my guest, besides," Lady Maari adds, sauntering into the room unimpeded. "I'm aware of the charges, Sheriff Rania, but surely there's no harm in seeing to her injuries."
"Lady Goa already saw to her injuries when she arrived," the sheriff insists. "She needs to be questioned."
I curl up into a ball and clutch my head in pain. Goddess, please make them stop yelling!
"Here," Talla whispers, handing me a waterskin. "Drink. I don't know what you did to yourself, but you were dry as a bone when they brought you in."
Taking the waterskin, I start to greedily gulp down the water within. I didn't realize I was so thirsty!
"Not so fast," she says, gently lowering the waterskin. "Small sips, or you'll just throw up."
"Lady Goa..." the sheriff presses.
"Ask your questions," Talla huffs. "I won't interfere with your work, so don't interfere with mine."
Rania casts a helpless glance at the mayor, who just shrugs dismissively. "There you have it. Go on."
The sheriff doesn't look happy about it, but she's outranked by the noblewomen. She tries to ignore Talla fussing over my injuries while I take delicate sips of water, straightening her back and adopting a business-like tone.
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"Miss Allie, please state your name and place of origin, for the record."
I open my mouth to tell her that I'm not Allison, then hesitate, casting a sidelong glance at Lady Talla.
"We already know you're dungeon borne," Lady Maari interrupts. "One of the other prisoners was quite vocal about it."
Rania grimaces and gives the noblewoman an aggrieved look. "Lady Shaa, please don't divulge the details of our investigation to the prisoner."
"I'm just speeding things along for you."
Talla sighs and smiles apologetically at me. "It's okay, just be honest. You're not in any trouble."
"She absolutely is," Rania insists.
"Which one are you right now?" Talla asks, ignoring her.
"Evelyn," I answer—annoyed by this body's inability to pronounce my own name correctly. I wish the others would at least try. The only one that does is Magdalena, and I have no idea how to feel about that, so I stop thinking about it.
"Okay, maybe not that honest," Talla hedges. "I'm not sure how to explain you, specifically."
"Lady Goa, you can't instruct the prisoner to withhold information!" Rania groans helplessly.
"It's not relevant to your investigation, I assure you," she says. "Just complicated."
"I do not hide from the Goddess' light," I sigh. "My name is Evelyn. I was born in Stebaari. I died in the four hundred and twentieth revolution, and my spirit shares this body with three others."
Lady Maari's face lights up with glee, while Sheriff Rania's sinks into a deep frown.
"You can't possibly expect us to believe that," the sheriff sighs.
"It doesn't matter to me what you believe," I reply, lifting my chin. "The truth exists independently of your belief. The Goddess' light shines even upon those who refuse to see it."
"She really is like another person," Maari observes. "Her voice, her posture, the way she speaks—blood and acid, even her command of the language is better."
"Those can all be faked," Rania counters. "And it's rather convenient that she's suddenly claiming to be a citizen after being charged with serious crimes."
I cock my head at her.
"When did I say that?" I ask innocently. "When I was alive, I was clanless, and I've been dead for two centuries. Whatever rights I had then died along with me. Do you have any other questions?"
Talla turns to the sheriff with a smirk. "I told you it wasn't relevant."
Ignoring her, Rania purses her lips and meets my eyes with a searching gaze. "Who are the others sharing your body?"
"Allison—or Allie—the one Lady Shaa met and dined with. Violet—or Vi—the one who killed our assailants after they attempted to kidnap us. And Magdalena—or Maggie—the..."
Chaos witch. I want to say it. They deserve to know. She's dangerous—a menace! But something stays my tongue. I'm not sure what, yet.
"The quiet one," I finish instead. "She does not like to speak with others. The worm is her pet, primarily. She trains it."
"Can I speak to one of them, then?" the sheriff asks. "Vi, if she's the one responsible for your actions last night."
I look upwards, trying to feel for any sign of their presence within me. "No. They aren't available right now. I'm sorry, they don't always control it."
"They?"
"Yes, they," I repeat. "I am not one of them. I'm a passenger—an intruder. I do not know how or why the Goddess put me here, but I am from this world, and they are from another. They are dungeon borne."
"Oh, this is fantastic!" Maari croons. "My sisters will never believe me when I tell them that I dined with a genuine, living dungeon borne."
Rania gives her an exasperated look and she coughs once, looking away awkwardly. "Once the need for discretion has passed, of course."
"Fine," the sheriff sighs. "Who were those people, then? What did they want with you?"
"I don't know," I answer honestly. "But the last time I was kidnapped by murderous thugs, they turned out to be cultists of Chaos."
"The last—? You know what? Never mind. Did any of them say or do anything that might identify their motives or identities?"
"They called us a demon," I reply. "And until the last one tried to kill us, seemed quite intent on capturing us alive in spite of that."
"That...actually is quite useful, thank you."
I bow politely. "I'm more than happy to cooperate, sheriff. I assure you, those people had nothing but insidious intentions."
"In other words, they were the victim," Talla says. "I'll take responsibility for the vehicle, so can you let them go already?"
"There's still the matter of public disruption," the sheriff adds. "We can't have people killing each other in the streets."
"We weren't exactly given much of a choice," I point out.
Lady Shaa yawns and stretches, drawing the room's attention. "I'll waive those charges myself," she says matter-of-factly. "On a personal level, I quite like Miss Allie—she was excellent company, and I rarely get to entertain others this far from home."
Then her expression shifts subtly, from the warm and welcoming hostess to the cold and calculating smile of a noblewoman looking out for her own interests.
"On a professional level, I believe it's quite clear that whatever nest my dear cousin and her colleague disturbed is not one I relish having within my city. So they are free to go. As far and as fast as they are able—sooner rather than later, I think. I'll have a ship prepared."
Talla blinks. "Wait, you're kicking us out?!"
"Don't be crass, cousin," Lady Shaa responds. "I'm simply doing you the favor of providing alternative transportation after your vehicle was lost in an unfortunate accident. You are, of course, welcome back here any time—provided you survive Lady Kiera's wrath after destroying her prized possession."
"I don't think we need to worry about that," I mutter under my breath.
That earns me curious looks from Rania and Maari, and an urgent, pleading look from Talla. I cough once to cover up my embarrassment.
"I mean...we have bigger concerns?"
"You can say that again," Draga says, storming into the room despite the guards' protests.
His russet fur is stained red with blood, and Nipper is perched on his shoulder, tail wrapped around Draga's arm as it hisses softly at the guards.
"I'm finished with the other prisoner, sheriff. Thank you for your cooperation."
Rania's eyes go wide, and even through her fur I can see the color drain from her face before she rushes out the door.
Draga looks down at me, his severe expression softening slightly as he kneels down to my eye level.
"Are you alright?" he asks.
"Are you?" I ask, blinking. "You're covered in blood!"
He glances down at himself as if he only just noticed. Now that it's closer, I can see that Nipper's teeth are also distinctly bloody.
"Oh, that?" Draga says. "It's not mine."
For reasons that I am unable to fathom, and can only assume are related to this body's bizarre physiology, my face grows hot and a tingling sensation spreads across my cheeks.
"...oh."
"I know you must be tired, but we have to leave soon," he says. "I don't know who is after you or why—or how, for that matter. But your pet was able to convince one of them to talk—just a little. So I know one thing—there's more where they came from, and I don't plan on giving them a chance to regroup to try this stunt again."