Decrees-ing Tension (2/2)

Threadbare went to the front of the tent to examine the dungeon again, and found Anne sitting in her camp chair by the fire, staring his way. Her face was blank, and she was sharpening her cutlass.

“The waiting be the hardest part,” Anne said, after a moment. “Ye want to stretch yer legs a bit? We could take a walk.”

She glanced to the other crewbunny, who nodded, and ambled a little too casually to put herself between Threadbare and the dungeon.

“I suppose it couldn't hurt,” Threadbare said. And it would give him a chance to look for other landmarks, too.

The two of them picked their way around the bottom of the slope, walking past the dark blot that was the pool, and out into the scree that crunched underfoot as they followed the bottom of the ridge.

“Jean a'told us about ye while we were preparing ta grab ye,” Anne explained. “Ye grew up in mountains just like this, aye?”

“Aye. Yes,” Threadbare said, scanning the horizon. The peaks stretched up like great, snow-topped teeth. Unfortunately, they were all too similar to each other. If only he could send pictures through the decrees...

“She tells us ye were a Scout, first of all. Do ye still have that job?”

Threadbare hesitated. Was this a test? He had been away from Celia for weeks, and from what he had gathered, Jean had engaged his little girl in quite a few conversations. If he got a detail wrong, it might raise her suspicions.

“I am still a Scout,” Threadbare told her. It seemed the safest answer.

“Good! And what else?”

This conversation was rapidly moving out of safe boundaries.

“That's a rather personal question,” Threadbare replied, thinking things through as quickly as his brain could turn matters over.

“Aye. And under normal circumstances, even with ye being our... guest... and all, I wouldn't ask it. But...” Anne glanced back towards the dungeon. “That there beastie was a bit bigger than I was expecting. This here is a wild part of the world, and if me crew gets stupid, we could be out in these parts a bit longer than I expected.”

Her eyes darted back to a foot above Threadbare, fixing his illusion with a stern glare. “But not too long. We're a-going to drop ye off, so if things go sour here we're a-walkin' for a few months. And if we do that, then I'll be needing to know yer jobs, so I can cypher out where to put ye to best strengthen our band.”

That sounded reasonable.

But it would also give Anne an advantage over Threadbare if it came to a fight. And limit the number of surprises he could bring to bear against her. She was an experienced and cunning foe, he didn't doubt that she'd use this information to her advantage.

Although, this sort of sword could cut both ways.

“I'll tell you, but I want to know what your jobs are first,” Threadbare said, folding his arms.

Anne grinned, gold teeth flashing in the mid-afternoon light. “Gladly! I be a Pirate, and as any savvy soul knows, that comes from being both a Mercenary and a Bandit. Takin' the best qualities from each, really.”

Threadbare knew quite a bit about Mercenaries. Less so about Bandits. “What else?”

“Assassin, fer when bein' bold ain't enough. Water Elementalist... though that's just fer ensuring I won't be drownin' any time soon. And one that ain't filled yet.”

“You left an open job slot?” Threadbare was surprised. She was high level, higher than anyone else in Cylvania, he thought. To make it so far without every adventuring job slot filled was surprising.

But she had a good reason for it, he had to concede as she explained. “Beastkin don't be livin' that long, compared to humans or other sorts. Every job I take is another share of me experience going to somethin' that ain't me best life. By keepin' one unselected, I made sure that me main jobs grew faster. I kept me focus, savvy? Even when it were tempting not to...” she looked away for a second. Then shrugged. “Besides, I can always slot in one I've unlocked. And then I'll get all me energy back at a crucial moment. Y'do know that trick, don't ye me pretty princess?”

“I'm familiar with it. All right then,” Threadbare said, and made his choice. “I'm a Scout, a Knight, a Ruler, a Model, an Animator, an Enchanter, and a Golemist.”

It was a mix of truth and lies. He wasn't a Knight, and he'd left out Necromancer and Duelist.

But if Anne caught any untruths in that, she gave no sign of it. Instead she nodded in approval. “So he did teach ye the trick of making more of yerself. How easy is that to do?”

“Very tiring,” Threadbare said. “And all but the most minor golems use a lot of magical crystals and components.”

“Pity. We're on low crew right now. Could use a few more hands.” Anne drummed one hands' fingers on her hip, as she thought. “We might have some magical bits we can spare toward makin' a few golems. See how this here dungeon run goes, and all.”

“You could seed it with components and crystals, along with the engine parts,” Threadbare pointed out.

“Nay. Ye never want to drop components in dungeons. Sometimes they'll spawn 'em on their own, but they're greedy to devour any that come in from the outside. Ye never see 'em again.”

They had slowed during this conversation, but not stopped. And as she spoke, Threadbare saw a mountain come into view from behind the curve of the slope. Unlike the others, the peak was jagged with a pointy shard jutting at an angle that made it look a little like a beak. If you twisted your neck a certain way, the mountain resembled the head of a bird of prey.

Shouts came from behind them, and pirate and teddy bear turned to see that the crew had emerged from the dungeon. They were battered, bloody, and bruised, but he thought that everyone who had gone in had made it out.

“Good talk. We should do it more often,” Anne said, turning back to camp. “Come along then, ye'll be busy enough after they rest up and start the farming.”

Threadbare fell into step behind her... and stopped as she did. Anne turned with a frown on her face. “Are ye trying shenanigans?”

Threadbare shook his head. “I don't think so. What's wrong?”

Instead of replying, Anne strode up and tapped a finger about a foot above his head.

She's touching the illusion! Threadbare realized. He flinched back and raised a hand. “Excuse me?”

“The light was hittin' ye funny for a moment there,” Anne said, eyes narrowed.

“It might be my defensive buffs,” Threadbare said, remembering what he could of Celia's bag of tricks. “I am always in uniform, when I'm in a dangerous place.”

“Ah, that might do it.” Anne nodded. The suspicion eased from her face... but not quite from her eyes. “Not a bad idea out here, me little lady. Do watch yerself. We certainly shall...”