Temjun and I secured the basement, a complex of four more rooms in addition to the lab, alchemy room and prison. Besides a few wards and some more victims of the mayor and his pet mage, we found little of note in the first three. The fourth though was a boon for the both of us.

  A cellar full of things that didn't want to make me slice out my own eyes and run screamin' into the night.

  We moved the survivors there and over the next hour we check over the rest of the manor. Turned out, besides the blood banshee, the place was empty, and likely safer than all the rest of Murkwater just then. In the end we moved up to what had once been a fancy parlor on the second floor.

  Much as I, and everybody else for that matter, wanted to get the fuck out of this town, fact was were needed rest. The survivors especially were in no shape to leave. The kid was fine, but the other adults were exhausted, starved, injured, and right on the edge of breakin' down completely.

  Temjun wasn't doin' much better. He was covered in a mess of gashes and bruises, and his neck was still bleedin' a little under the bandages I looted from the alchemy lab. I tried gettin' him to take an elixir, most because I knew most of them wounds were taken on my account, but-

  "Mama says no poisons. Mama says-"

  "Fuck it. It ain't a poison!" I snapped, the manic energy from the elixir had faded hours ago but this conversation had been drivin' me a little insane.

  "It's a potion," I continued, "just like the ones the priest's make at the churches, just a little hotter. You're goin' get infections Temjun. Infections can kill, just like poisons."

  I don't know why I even bothered tryin' to explain.

  He looked at me with narrowed eyes, then looked over to his old lady where she sat in a massive arm chair. Captain Margarette was dozin' after the meal the tall man, Tequi, had made from a little of everything we found in the cellar, and some spices taken from the rucksack I'd left in the kitchen after my explosive entrance into the manor.

  For her part, she reminded me a bit of an ailin' queen in her throne. The woman had sway over this group of folk. Likely she'd been to them like Temperance had been to me. A faint beacon in endless night.

  "Mama?" He asked, "Is it poison?"

  Margarette stirred, blinked a few times, then shifted to conceal the bottle of brand she had been secretly sipping from her adopted son's veiw. Apparently Temjun considered hooch the worst poison of all and had fought his mama from the moment she found the mayor's liquor cabinet.

  She regarded him with half lidded eyes, then spoke, "It's not poison boy," she said scarcley maskin' the slur, "but you don't need it either. Temjun's Path grants him significant physical abilities, Mister Roche. Furthermore traditional alchemy is said to affect Uruk's rather poorly."

  I stared at her for a second, then threw my hands up and dug for a smoke.

  "Fuck, fine. But if your mug rots off you can blame your Captain, y'hear?"

  A few soft chuckles came from the peanut gallery.

  That boy Vin and a the rest of the other folk huddle in blankets around the hearthfire. I'd kindled it with my last few pinches of consecrated wood and the warm light of Divine fire had a calming effect on the lot. Nothin' like a little proof that the good gods still remain to keep the knowledge of their blindness at bay.

  Don't ya'll forget though. Weren't no Hearthmother or priest to make the fire. Weren't no paladin or crusader that killed that demon. Just a fool and a brute.

  Don't even know why that notion mattered to me...

  "Mister Roche," asked Tequi, the tall Outcast. He was a thin, reedy sort, and wore a pair of glasses on his sharp nose. Despite lookin' a might bookish, I couldn't help but notice the scars on his knuckle and the way he'd seemed to regain so much vitality after so little rest. Another man with a strong Path, I'd guess.

  "Yes, Mister Tequi," I replied as I lit a cigarette, a little proud for finally gettin' an Outcast's name right. Shortly would probably spit to hear that I'd finally stopped butcherin' her peoples tongue.

  "What do you plan to do now?" He asked.

  I frowned and looked around the room. All eyes on me, again. Why not the old gal? Why not Tequi instead?

  I sighed and shook my head, "I mean, not a whole lot," I admitted, "we rest. I go. I'll carve a path to the docs, get ya'll on a ship, then try and finish what I'm paid to do. If anyone else worth savin' is still alive, I'll get them out too. If I find that fuckin' mayor or the mage who was keepin' you lot, well then I'll do somethin' about that too. Beyond that, it's none of your concern."

  "But," began Vin, the kid had a blanket wrapped tight around his narrow shoulders, his young face drawn with fear, "Mister Roche... How are you going to do all that by yourself? I know you got some high Path, I saw the way you move. But you ain't no hero, pardon me for saying sir."

  "Damn right I'm not," I spat into the fire and let a plume of smoke escape with my words, "and that ain't your concern either, son. Pardon me for sayin'."

  "But-"

  "Vin!" Margarette's voice cut through the air like a knife, and the boy shrunk down in his seat, "When an adult tells you something is none of your business, it is not your business. Do not ask a third time."

  The boy's mouth clamped shut and he nodded.

  "I apologize, Roche," said the Captain as she looked at me. The woman's sharp gray eyes were a little bloodshot, but there was no slur in her words, no trace of her drinking, "not because of Vin, he means well, but after all that we have endured, I am wholly inclined to do as you ask. I am no coward, but I mean to quite this place. I've no interest in being a hero either."

  "Good."

  "That said," Margarette cut in just as I stood to make good on all that talk, "Temjun has told me that a number of my crew are still very much alive. Alive and in captivity in the Processing plant," I glared as that old fox grinned, "and as a honorable Captain of a fine Imperial vessel I would be deeply ashamed to even consider fleeing without complete certaintly that all of my men are either safely aboard, or dead."

  I stared for a second, then groaned and dropped back onto the divan.

  "What are you sayin' ain't no way in hell I'll let a woman old enough to be my granny die with dignity if she insists on marchin' into a death trap. I'd sooner stuff you, all of you," I said motioning to the rest, "in a barrel and float you down the coast to Agustus' Hope. I'm the fightin' man here, and you're the people I'm gettin' out."

  "We," Temjun muttered around a mouthful of stew, rich brown broth spilled down his chin as he spoke.

  "We." Said Tequi with a curt nod, "I have people in that fucking factory too. A lot of the indentured men are cousins and kin to me. No way in any hell would I leave them to whatever sick shit has been happening here."

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  "Well then," said Margarette with a grin, "that's settled. We leave first thing in the morning. Us 'civilians' to the port after you and the 'fighting men' have cleared the way. We shall secure my vessel. Activate it's engine, and bring it's four sixty pound guns to bear against whatever tries to stop us. Meanwhile, I trust I can rely on you to extract my, and Foremen Tequi's people, and whoever else is deserving, from the mayor's little stronghold. We shall then sail off into the sunset, or what have you."

  "Gods damnit, woman!" I snarled, then stopped, and thought.

  Did she say sixty pound guns?

  Well, of course. What else would a Leviathan hunter bother to mount on their ship. The titans of this world did easily succumb to good alchemy and hammered steel, but everything had a limit, and a sixty pound canon was about it for most things that ran, swam or flew on the Gods' creation.

  If we could get that cannons loaded and brough to bear, it would a cinch to hold the docks. Grapeshot would turn revenants into chutney, even if it didn't really kill them. Then again, firin' cannons made to kill sea monsters would be loud. The moment one fired the undead would come swarmin' in greater numbers than ever before.

  "How much shot you got on that ship? Are the cannons crewed or arcane?"

  "She's fully loaded for an eight months expedition to the cool waters down south. That means enough ball to level half this blasted town and enough anti-crew to kill anything short of Imperial Navy Marine detachment," she said with an ugly smile, which faltered, then fell, "but sadly the guns do require skilled operators. Arcane guns are restricted in Terra Nova's waters."

  All went quiet for a moment once again, the hope the old gal's bravado had sparked fizzlin' under wet, cold reality.

  "But!" Started Vin, his eyes searchin' the ceiling like the answers were written in the mold, "What if you did have operators, Ma'am. What if Mister Roche and Tem and Mister Teq sprung your boys, then we all rushed for the docks?"

  "Hmmm, well. Then, if I were a gambling woman, I would call that a workable plan, lad. But I never have been one for cards so I must say that your idea is terrible fraught. Moving a handful to the docks, even with an armed escort would be hard but, more..." She shook her head. For a moment I was sure we'd a dead end and they'd all see reason a let me just fuckin' do or die, but then that woman, middle aged Outcast girl with the drawn and sad eyes, she just had to speak up.

  "The armory," she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

  I'd nearly forgot her.

  "I'm sorry, Miss...?"

  "Cara, Hunter," she said, her voice a little louder and her gaze a little sharper, "I'm a guard. Was a guard, anyway. Before I spoke up."

  Damn, would've have guessed her for a fighter.

  "The Imperial Armory is only a single housing block from the Processing Plant. In it," she said meeting my gaze, "is something that would make an assault on the Mayor's position, and the docks, far easier."

  I drew in a little smoke from the cigarillo I had done forgot, "And that is, Miss Cara?"

  "Grenades," she said with a vicious smile, "and a rotary gun. Not man portable of course, unless you're an Uruk giant." She motioned to the Temjun and I watched him beam like a proud pup, "Six barrels three hundred rounds per minute. Plus, heavy armor, and a full set of gear for any with a martial Path."

  I scoffed, "You had all that, and you just let yourselves get marched into a godsdamn death camp?"

  Her face twisted in a snarl and she shot forward, "You're right. Though, Mister Roche, I would say haven't once asked just how any of this came to be."

  "Fine," I said, holding a hand up to ward off the oncoming rant, "how, Cara? How'd you and all these others let the mayor take the town. Where the fuck did the revenants come from, why is the town full of 'em and why are there fuckin' demons and necromancers and gods know what else lurkin' about?"

  "You're being defensive, Roche." Chided Captain Margarette.

  I took a draw of smoke and gave her a glare. I knew I was. I knew I should've wondered any of that, should've asked, but Godsdamn, it'd been a long day.

  "Fine," I muttered, "Cara. Enlighten me."

  "I think it's pretty clear," she said, "the undead. They're a byproduct."

  Okay, no. That was not fuckin' clear, but I couldn't say as much. I might look like a fool right now, but I was goin' to go and prove it by opening my mouth. So instead I just sat back and gave a shrug.

  "It was brewing for months. You remember those folks that went missing from the shanty, Tequi? The sick ones, I mean."

  Mister Tequi just nodded and adjusted his round spectacles.

  "You mean the indentured men who caught that flu? A couple of my dock hands too..." He muttered, then trailed off as he saw the look on the girls face, "The guard, your people said they ran. Tried to flee the city." Said the Outcast Foreman, his eyes sharp, hard as steel, "I remember, yes."

  Cara winced and bit down on her lip, "That's we were told too. Frankly, it was a blessing, at first. The sick, the cough, I'd seen the like before. Out in the villages it's common."

  Villages? Outcast villages I guess.

  "The symptoms are mild at first, cough, fatigue, a little fever. But over time it worsens. Then a black mucus forms, the afflicted hemorrhage mana from the lungs..." She shook her head and stared into the fire, "I think someone told the mayor of it. Told him what happens when the cough stops. I don't know who."

  Margarette sucked her teeth, "Let me guess, they don't just lie down and die, do they?"

  "No." Cara shook her head, "no, the mana is still inside them, just... different. Changed. That's why the mayor found that fucking witchman, as far as I can tell. I wasn't sure until I saw that pit in the alchemy lab," Cara said, looking to me now, "I think they were storing it there, studying it, or something. For months. Maybe some cure or prevention was the goal at first..."

  "But?" I cut in. My cigarillo had burned awful low, and I sat barely on the edge of my seat.

  "But... Nothing. That's what I know." She said with a sigh.

  I sat back, a little disappointed, "I could guess the rest," I mumbled with some heat, "they did the same shit way back when the Scourge resurfaced after the Second Raven-Feather Pact."

  All turned to me at that. More a few of them looked like I was speaking gibberish.

  "The lost war," muttered Temjun, something strange in his small blue eyes.

  Recognition. He was learned, in some ways it seemed.

  "Knew you had good blood, Mister Roche. Good and studied," Temjun said scratching the scar where his scalp had knit, "know the old songs, I do too. Mama doesn't like it when I say um though..."

  Margarette clicked her tongue and gave him a look. The big man wilted under her glare, but she softened after a spell.

  "I don't see how old history matters in this moment, Tem. And the truth is I've not a clue what you two are on about."

  I shrugged, "Doesn't matter. It was just a guess. Just a, just not the first time the Empire played with the sick is all. Not the first time they tried to make use of something better off burned out of this world."

  "Not the first time they hurt us either," Temjun growled, his fists tight and his jaw clenched, "we still gonna kill them, Mister Roche?"

  "Yes. But first," I ashed my smoke in a gloved hand, "get some fuckin' sleep."

  With a little more muttering and mumblin' the rest did.

  As the fire burned low I finally decided it was time to attend something I'd been ignoring.

  Ever since my Path had stalled, ever since I'd gotten so twisted about Raph and lost in all that mess in the city, I hadn't once opened my Rune Book. When I first woke up on the beach of this cursed land the notion of becoming more was at the forefront of my mind. A fire in my belly that made the struggles seem worth it.

  But somewhere along the way I'd lost that fire.

  Now though, I couldn't afford to hide from my failings, couldn't keep pretending that I didn't change whether I liked it or not. My arms, my Chthonic Dexterity had changed. My Drift Ability had become more than a little different, and my Arcane Eye saw more than I ever wanted to before.

  I'd grown, and it was high time I understood how. In this last moment of peace before the comin' storm, I'd take stock of my gains, dicker with the devil I'd made my Patron, and bargain for all the power his shadowy Mistress would space.

  I sat by the fire and let my eyes close. Reality faded as the realm of Dream became real, if only for me.

  A moment later I smelled salt and stale bear.

  Gone was the comfortable rug and the warmth of a divine hearth. Instead a squalid old booze room, a half remembered song played on an out of tune piano just at the edge of my hearin'.

  "About fuckin' time, Roche," said the Bastard with a black and gold grin, "the Lady in the Deep was askin' questions you know. You were not long from a visit. A personal one..."

  I stared at the Kraken behind the bar, then glanced at the glass of amber power that lay between us.

  When my hand moved through the distorted space of the Dream, and I felt the cold crystal in my naked palm, I couldn't help but smile.

  "Good. I think I'm done playin' cards with the help," I sneered, "get your boss, Kraken. I mean to make a deal."