Book 2 Chapter 46: Try not to die before we can meet again

Book 2 Chapter 46: Try not to die before we can meet again

They walked back toward the gate into Rendhold at a leisurely pace, the Kobold guards they left behind still none the wiser to the fact that they were carrying away their employer. Wane didn’t even seem encumbered by the weight of the bound and gagged gnome in his pack.

“It was good working with you,” said Dantes as he opened the wax seal on his letter with Pillion’s dagger. He saw who it was from, and carefully tucked it back into his jacket, wanting to give it his full attention later.

“You as well.”

“You ever think about working with me on the regular?”

“Merle needs me. We’re... getting close to what we want to accomplish.”

“And he gives you no free time? He’s opposed to you working the odd job here and there? That doesn’t sound like him.”

Wane sighed. “Of course if I asked he’d have no problem, but it’s all hands on deck at the moment, he just doesn’t want to order us around like a dictator. He leads by example.”

“How much does it make you?”

“Nothing. It’s not about gold.”

“Well, it doesn’t have to be about gold. It can be about winning it. I seem to remember the twinkle in your eye when we sat down and rolled dice together. Are you still doing that with what’s left of the Collared?”

“...no, but there are more important things.”

“There are, yes, but those important things don’t take up every moment. Eventually I’m going to need people I can trust at my side. You’d be my first choice.”

Wane was quiet as they walked together through the gate. The gatemen eyed Dantes a bit longer than he liked, but no one stopped their crossing.

“Maybe once things at the Academy are done... For now though, I’ve gotta see what we’re doing through.”

“Fair enough. I’ll always have an opening for you.”

“Would I be third after you and Jacopo?”

Dantes shrugged. “Your mother told me the same. Though she meant a work of art.”

Wane snorted and tossed Pillion back into his bag. “Try not to die before we can meet again.”

“Same to you.”

Dantes kept track of Wane with some rats until he suddenly vanished from sight, or at least from the kind of sight he could command. He then slipped into his garden and pulled the letter from his jacket. He leaned against a tree and started reading.

Dantes,

As always, you honored the word you gave me. I am sending this letter from within the Underprison, but by the time you read it, I will no longer be here. I cannot tell you where I will go, as I have options for the first time in a few hundred years and find myself overwhelmed by them. When I have narrowed them down, I will eventually find you again. We’ll roll dice, or perhaps I’ll finally find a form that gets you to bed me. I hope that in all your grand battles and schemes you’ve been able to have a beautiful woman watching you.



Syn



There was the faint scent of lavender perfume on the letter, as well as a kiss mark made of black lipstick next to Syn’s name. For some reason Dantes had expected her handwriting to be as varied as her physical form, with the lettering changing from neat script to chunky blocks of letters, but it was simple and neat all the way through. He read the letter again and smiled, even as he remembered the warning of Mariska the Magistrate when he’d had her remove Syn’s binding. Syn was dangerous, that wasn’t exactly something Dantes was ignorant of, but she was also his friend, one of the few bright spots of his time in the pit. He wondered idly if the comment about bedding him hinted at anything more than the constant flirtation they’d engaged in, but brushed the thoughts away as his mind playing tricks due to the lack of brothel visits he’d engaged in recently. Still, he was careful when he folded the letter and placed it back into his jacket.

Dantes sent his senses out throughout his garden and began doing the regular upkeep he’d grown accustomed to doing while the gears of his mind turned. In the Pit he’d simply paced with his hand on the wall, gradually wearing a small groove in the stone where his hands would trace the wall. This was much more productive. He moved a pigeon nest off the ground and onto one of the trees, then he watered a parched patch of ground, and adjusted the tarp he’d placed to shield the bat building from the daytime sun. As he did all of that he began to check in on the various places he was monitoring.

Dantes landed a pigeon on the Window to Danglars office, and peered in. Danglars was sitting at his desk with all of the letters that had been written by his ‘mother’ arranged in front of him. He seemed to be shaking, and was drinking directly from a bottle of dark brown liquid as he sat, though it seemed to be doing nothing to calm him down. Dantes couldn’t quite tell, but he was almost certain that he was talking to something, but he saw no one in the room.

He sent another pigeon to fly over Mondego’s manor. The number of guards seemed to have doubled, with even more men and women patrolling the perimeter. Dantes guided the pigeon to shit on one of their heads, then broke his connection to it.

Finally, he checked on his allies. Vampa, Zilly, and Vera were all in Vampa’s home, enjoying a simple meal that the rat he was watching them through hungered for. He couldn’t see anyone watching the house, nor did he detect anything of concern within it.

The group formerly known as the Shadow Cats was also keeping busy. They’d been relegated to being street level dealers, but they seemed adept at the work, easily evading the guard that was much more busy with the work Dantes was slipping them through notes.

Pacha and his men were still investigating that damage that he’d done on the docks while they had been occupied on the other end of Midtown. It was becoming clear that Pacha was beginning to have his suspicions about the motives of whoever was giving him information, but Dantes trusted that his focus on the practical would override any major concerns he had.

He returned his focus to himself. Everything was progressing as he wanted it to, but there was always more that he could be doing. He flexed his non-wooden hand, testing his own grip for a moment. He’d grown a bit lazier about maintaining his exercise since he’d left the Pit, and it had become clear that his kit was more than a little outclassed by what Mondego had on hand. While his powers could potentially bridge the gap between them, there was still too much ambiguity for his liking. He highly doubted he’d seen everything Mondego was capable of. He needed more than just daggers.