The Dungeons Due (1/2)

The woman slept, until she didn't.

One moment her form was sagging into the ropes that covered her from head to foot, eyes shut and mouth open. The next she was sitting upright, eyes wide, darting around the tent until they met Threadbare's black-buttoned gaze.

“The bear,” she breathed. “This might just work after all.”

Threadbare whispered as low as he could. “Do you understand me?”

“I don't. Your place in the grand scheme is still obscured.”

“But you can hear me?”

“Oh. That. Yes.” Her long, pointed ears twitched.

“I very much need you to pretend that I'm a doll with red hair and a white dress,” Threadbare said. “I think you can see through my illusion somehow, and it's important that you don't give it away. Can I ask you to do that?”

The woman wiggled her ears, and smiled. “The tower broke me. Breaks me. Holds me still. I underestimated its power. The desert isn't a desert, and the sand isn't sand.”

Threadbare looked to Renny. Renny shrugged. The rather concerned teddy bear padded past the growing pile of engine parts, and up to the bound woman. She'd been tossed in the back of the tent like a sack of potatoes, but they'd been considerate enough to put a small brazier next to her, to ward off the chill of the mountain slope.

The woman watched him approach.

“You said Midian, when Anne asked you your name,” Threadbare said. “Is that it? Midian?”

“Yes. No. It's close enough. Here it is, anyway. It's something different where I come from.”

“All right,” said Threadbare. “Would you like some food? I can't unbind you, but they left some hardtack and water.” He indicated a tin plate stacked with biscuits, and a cracked but serviceable cup. “I can feed you, if you like.”

The woman's eyes flicked up. Then from side to side. Then they narrowed, as they studied the hardtack. “Yes,” she decided. “It's been... hm... Wotsatime? Oh. That long? Yes. It's been almost eighteen years since I've eaten. Not hungry yet, but I probably should.”

“Eighteen years?” Threadbare hoisted up a biscuit and the cup, and hopped up to her, managing to avoid spilling the water. “How did you survive that?”

“That be me question,” Anne spoke, from the direction of the tent flap. “Ye were in the dungeon for eighteen years? From what I be seeing, only two things comes from that place; tentacles and madness. And ye don't look squirmy so what does that leave ye now?”

“The towers aren't towers,” Midian said, plaintively. “We didn't research them or even know what we were getting into, and the world will shatter itself to pieces, caught between them. We're stuck, stuck, stuck, stuck, stuck...”

“Mad it is then,” Anne said, cheerfully. She pulled out a ring that up until an hour ago had been on Midian's finger, and flipped it, catching it on her gloved palm. “But ye've paid the transportation fee with yer valuables, so we'll treat ye as an honored guest and drop ye off at the next settlement.”

“Is that how this works?” Threadbare asked Anne. “I'm glad I wasn't wearing any jewelry worth taking.”

“Nay, ye be a job, not a sidequest. Besides, tis bad luck to kill the mad,” Anne shrugged. “Or anyone the gods have touched, really. Besides, it might make things more interesting later on. And if she tries treachery, well...” she patted her cutlass. “She wouldn't be the first, won't be the last.”

There was just a hint of excitement in her voice, in that last bit. And Threadbare thought he was understanding her a little better now.

“Is the wood golem I made you working out?” Threadbare asked, glancing back toward the loose tent flap, and the rays of the setting sun creeping in from the west.

“The little thing be tending camp just fine,” Anne said, peeling the flap open and glancing toward the firem where Glub was standing stiffly and being very, very quiet. “Pity it can't fight worth a damn, or I'd send it in the dungeon as backup. The dungeon's getting annoyed now, and it's hiding the treasure deeper. How be our count so far?”

“Well...” Threadbare gave Midian a quick sip of water, then put the plate and cup aside as he jumped down and scrambled back to his notebook. He counted twice, just to make sure he had the numbers right. “We have enough for three engines. We're only a few pieces short of four.”

“And we've got two sort-of-workin' engines back at the Cotton Tale?”

“Yes,” Threadbare nodded.

“So if we called 'er quits now, we'd have enough to limp away, once the three were built.” Anne gnawed on her lower lip with her golden buckteeth. “Or we risks goin' deeper, and losin' crew.”

“Do you have that many crew left to lose?” Threadbare asked.

“That be the stickin' point,” Anne admitted. “But once we get to a settlement, we can go recruitin'.” She turned, and hauled out a creased and stained map, opening it up as she muttered under her breath.

Threadbare shot a look at Renny, and breathed words as softly as he could. “Wind's Whisper Renny, please pretend to feed Midian and get a look at that map.”

Anne's ear twitched. She shot him a glance, he said “It is okay if I use my golem to feed the prisoner, isn't it?”

“Sure, sure,” Anne said, returning to her perusal, oblivious to the fox doll who was now standing on Midian's head, bending down to feed her more hardtack and glancing at the map every time he straightened up.