Interlude 7: Kayin Enabled (1/2)

Kayin's teeth were itchy, and she had nobody to bite.

As problems went she'd had worse, but it was just so frustrating! She had enemies, they'd gotten away, and she wanted to go stab them repeatedly.

And everyone just sat around talking!

Except they weren't, now.

Kayin looked up from the nest of her fuzzy arms, and stared across the table to meet Garon's glowing green eyes. He looked irritated.

“Have you been listening to what I'm saying?” Garon asked.

“No, desu,” Kayin admitted. “Do you need me to do sneaky stuff?”

“Eventually.”

“Then let me know when that happens.” Kayin put her head in her arms again.

“Gods dammit,” Garon rumbled, and she heard the rasp of metal on metal as he stood.

“Let her be,” Graves said. “Her mental fortitude is low. It's a species thing, and her jobs don't help much with that.”

“It's the principle of the thing,” Garon muttered.

“If we had strangers in here I'd agree. But we're all friends, here. Let her go, Garon. I'll catch her up on anything she needs to know.”

“You'll be staying here. If I do that I'll have to brief you on the retrieval team's part so you can tell her. It's not efficient.”

“Then tell Celia, and she'll brief her on the road.”

“Please?” Kayin asked, looking up hopefully.

Garon slapped his palm on the table, ringing the metal against the hard wood. “Fine. Fine, just... fine.” He leaned back and knuckled his head. “I need a break anyway. Let's take an hour and try to recharge.”

“No objections here,” Graves said, standing. “It's been a while since I had sleep.”

“Do you want me to tuck you in?” Missus Fluffbear asked, hopping up on the table. “That used to help Mopsy, when she wanted a nap. Well, that and finding really sunny places. Oh! Maybe we could go to the roof!”

Kayin escaped while they were distracted. She was good at that.

And really, she hadn't meant to show him such disrespect. It was something that her old Knight trainer, Sir Tane, would have had her flogged for.

But that had been before she'd died.

And her new body, while useful, sturdy, and with some pretty sweet skills that helped her be the best Assassin she could be, had its drawbacks. Among them was a mind that could only focus on something for so long before it darted on to the next thing to catch her attention.

She'd tried to explain that to her friends, but it was difficult to put into words. It wasn't a condition, it wasn't one of those negative skills that some species got, it was just the way her brain seemed to work. Trying to grind up intelligence or wisdom did nothing. She'd even taken up a crafting job as an Herbalist to try and pump her wisdom up fast, to see if that would make a difference. It hadn't. Though the job helped her to brew her own poisons, so she'd kept that one around anyway, even though the experiment had failed.

Thinking about experiments made her think of Graves. He'd been one of the few who really listened, and tried to help her. But then he'd been called back to more golem development, and then he'd been buried in the arcane research down in the dungeons, and then there had been something else... what was it? She forgot. And that annoyed her, because it was her brain doing things again, and she took care to watch over Graves and keep track of him.

Well, as much as she could. She'd had to do a lot of spying lately. There were shenanigans going on. And some people in desperate need of shanking. Which sucked, because she wasn't going to be there to shank them. No, she had to go rescue Threadbare.

She slid past servants as she walked on the carpets and stone floors of the keep, moving so silently that none of them were aware of her passing. For a moment she wondered where she was going, then she decided it didn't matter. After sitting for so long she needed to walk; this wasn't the first time she'd given in to instinct and roamed around the castle until it felt right to stop. She chalked it down to the cat side of her Catgirl job doing its thing, and just kind of went with the flow.

And her brain was tired of thinking, and trying to listen, because she'd been stuck in an actual meeting for hours. So she turned it off and just went and looked at things, and felt better.

The kitchens were warm and the cooks were doing their thing, cooking festival food as fast as they could manage. The festival was still going on, and from what Kayin overheard, most of the staff were of the opinion that the pirate “attack” and the airship were all just part of the performance.

Most wasn't all, though, and there were rumors floating around that someone had tried to assassinate Celia. Which was true, but after Garon had convinced Celia to go out into the festival, put on a fake smile, and wave at people from a carriage for a little bit, those rumors were dying down.

When she blinked again she was in the rafters over the main kitchen, staring down and watching the Mousewife romping around below, checking over pots, talking happily to chefs, and hoisting trays of food that were far larger than her to carry them out to the wagons waiting just outside.

Kayin didn't quite know what to make of the Mousewife. Cat and mouse jokes aside, the woman was so cheerfully bland and ordinary that she stood out in just how normal she was. She kind of went so far into the mundane that she became a bizarre figure for that fact alone.

Given the woman's association with Celia, Kayin had been tasked to follow her and snoop on her, just to make sure she wasn't part of any plot or badness. As far as Kayin had seen, she wasn't. She lived alone in a tiny house that was full of yarn and other knitting supplies, and had two ovens for when the Mousewife felt like cooking treats. That had been suspicious at first, until Kayin followed her to the Cylvania home for misplaced children, where she had unloaded enough baked goods to give a giant a gluten allergy, and enough clothing to outfit a regiment of soldiers.

She did seem to have some secret she was hiding, some odd skill that let her navigate social situations in a way Kayin couldn't quite describe, but given what she was doing and how she lived her life, Kayin was pretty sure she was one of the good guys.

Then Kayin's gaze fell on a sturdy, blonde halven who was sitting on a windowsill, swinging her legs and munching her way steadily through a plate loaded with sausages inna bun.

That was Greta. Kayin wasn't so sure she was a good guy.

True, the God Squad had said that she and her sister held no malign intentions. Yes, they had confirmed that including her and using her talents would only help the current crises. But Greta's sister was some sort of really specialized fate manipulator, so who's to say that the God Squad hadn't been bamboozled? This one would bear watching.

But not by Kayin. The two halven sisters were staying here, while Kayin and the rest of her team went to go get Threadbare back. Greta and what was her name? Race? Chance? No, Chase, that was it. Chase and Greta would be Graves' problem. And Garon's too, technically, but Garon would have his hands full with other stuff.

She had more faith in Graves' abilities anyway. In him overall. Thinking of him made her happy, and a little sad. Not for the first time she regretted that she'd never desired men. Even as a golem, which tended to make a lot of bedtime gymnastics kind of a moot point, she hadn't been able to shake that part of herself. So she settled for being the best friend she could with Graves, and filed stuff that would never happen under a big box in her brain she called regrets.

One upside to her fuzzy brain, was that she didn't have to spend a lot of time in that box. Which was ironic, because she had a new fascination for boxes these days. They were just so comfy...

She was moving before she realized it, up across the rafters and through the crack near the moulding that she'd found a few months ago, squirming through to one of the storage rooms and sitting in her favorite thinkin' crate before she stopped to question if that was really the best use of her time.

Stupid question, really; it was. Anything that helped Kayin get through the day was a-ok.

She sat in the box for a while, and brushed stuff out of her fur.

And at some point, she heard voices, muffled ones, coming from the room above.

Oh yeah! Now she remembered the other reason why she had found this place.

Kayin muttered “Undetectable, Silent Killer,” and crept over to the wall, clawing her way up the support beam to the small trap door that some past monarch or spymaster or grand vizier had cut into the floor. No sound came from her, nor the door as she jimmied it open, and wriggled up into the crawlspace that lay beyond.

It had been made for halvens, children, or some other very small people. Which meant that it was more than big enough for Kayin to stand upright, and move around unhindered and unheard. Especially with her Assassin skills protecting her from sharp ears, and sharper spells.

It didn't block out the sharp words, though.

“...highly irregular,” snorted a prissy woman's voice. Kayin's ears folded. This was Lady Easterlynn-Proudsmythe.

Kayin was pretty sure that she definitely wasn't one of the good guys. But finding proof of that was turning out to be pretty damn tricky.

“It's necessary, I'm afraid,” said Celia, and Kayin felt her lips curve into a smile, as she paced the space between the floors, figuring out where each person was standing. Celia sounded calm, collected, and almost a little bored... but that last one was a tell. Celia was angry. And she was one of those kinds of people who got more polite when she was angry.

“I'm going to have to take a leave of absence to investigate some matters as a private citizen. As such, I'm appointing a temporary replacement Councilor. This is all within the boundaries of the charter that we all signed, when we ratified the rules of the Council. This is my notice, here is my acting replacement, and I don't believe that a vote is required.”

“We know nothing about him,” Lady Easterlynn-Proudsmythe protested. “He hasn't been vetted. Dear, for all we know, he could be part of the... plot.”

“That might be a valid point, except that he's one of the few people I can guarantee wasn't a part of the assault,” Celia said. “He was out of the city entirely, helping my bear resolve a very delicate situation. Which he did to the very best of his ability.”

“Perhaps if we set a hard duration to the amount of time he'll be an acting councilor...”

“No, Gladys,” came a deep, weary voice. “Let it go.”

This was Jericho. And Kayin hoped he was one of the good guys, because he was too damned powerful to spy on easily, and they were all pretty well screwed if he was a bad guy.

“Wedodisgobacktodafestival?” asked a squeaky, too-fast voice.

This was the raccant guy. The councilor who wore the “GUDBOI” mask. He was a raccant, so he wasn't a good guy or a bad guy, just a trash mammal.

“Yes,” Jericho sighed. “We do this, we go back to the festival.”

“Thenhe'sfinewithme. Ivotehe'scool,” said the raccant, and Kayin heard wood creak above her as the heavy creature thumped his cane on the ground, and headed away from her, likely to the chamber's door.

“There isn't a vote for—” said Jericho, but the door opened and shut before he could finish his sentence.

“I think we're done here, then,” Celia said, and Kayin agreed. She started picking her way through the crawlspace, looking for the way up and out. It was dark, but that was fine. Her memory wasn't so bad that she didn't remember roughly where it was.

“Er, before we go,” said Lady Easterlynn-Proudsmythe, “Do we know exactly who it was who had a go at you? Any idea of the assassin's motive, or possible employer?”

“Nothing solid yet,” Celia said. “But given that the actors who weren't involved in the pirate assault skipped town shortly after that, that's going to be our first line of investigation. I'll be taking a few good men and women and running them to the ground before they can leave the country.”

All of that was a lie. Graves had personally interrogated the assassin's corpse. He had nothing to do with the actors, and the pirates had been a total surprise. But it made a good cover story as to why Celia was out of the Capitol.

“That seems logical,” said Lady Easterlynn-Proudsmythe. “I rather distrusted them from the start. The Belltollians were a little too friendly, I thought.”