“Can I go change into something else?” Yehpweyl asked. She had only sat down at the table a moment ago, and we hadn't yet started discussing exactly how she was going to repay me yet.

“Why?” I asked flatly.

“I tore this shirt,” she said sheepishly, “it keeps falling off and-”

“Fine,” I grumbled, “be quick about it.” Yehpweyl shot up out of the chair and half-ran to her room. When she pushed the door open she inhaled sharply, but didn't say anything and entered. A few minutes later she came out wearing another shirt that covered more skin than the one she had been wearing before. Was the shirt before intended to cause sexual interest? I wondered, A display of the willingness to bear a negotiation partner's young would potentially give her an advantage during talks.

“Did you really have to-” she began, and I already knew what she was going to say.

“I checked the room in order of easiest to hardest container to open,” I said. “Had you been upfront with me, I would have simply removed the equipment and left.” Yehpweyl winced, then sat down again with a sigh.

“The documents though,” she muttered. You're lucky I didn't burn them, I thought, I'm sure I would have if I had opened that chest with a blowtorch.

“I opened that chest first,” I said, “I won't be justifying my actions to you. You owe me a large sum of money.” Yehpweyl winced again. “However I am not particularly in need of money as much as a way to the mainland. Before we begin, do you have a way for me to simply leave for... the nearest mainland port?”

“That's Pehrihnk,” Yehpweyl said with a frown, “and no I don't. It's very expensive to leave, as you probably know. Given a few months, I might be able to find someone willing to aid you but-”

“Understood,” I interrupted with a raised hand. “Once more then, do you have any idea where Koyl might be?” Yehpweyl shifted around in her chair a bit.

“Well, you two were going to try to kill Taaljheyz's boss right?” she asked. “He probably either died or got caught. I'm not even sure how...” Yehpweyl trailed off, but I mentally filled in the rest of her sentence. How I survived, I thought, sheer luck.

“Who is your contact at the Hatchet Crew, what rank do you have with them, what resources are you able to call upon, and how much intelligence can you give me about the internal structure of their headquarters?” I asked, rapid-firing questions at the woman. Yehpweyl blinked and shook her head, then inhaled.

“I'm not a member,” she said, “I grew up in the same neighborhood as Taaljheyz, so we know each other. She heard that I needed money a while back and offered me a small informant job. She sends a courier over once in a while with a message for me to look out for certain people, maybe ask some things to them, and send her something back when I do what she says.” The worst possible outcome, I thought with a frown.

“And your resources?” I prodded. “You implied that you could call upon some protection from their organization.” Yehpweyl bared her teeth awkwardly in a grimace. Don't tell me, I thought.

“I, uhh, I might have lied,” she stuttered. I took a deep breath and then let it out, an audible and visible indicator of the annoyance I had with the whole situation. “B-but I've been to their guild hall a few times!” Yehpweyl added hastily. “I've been on the second floor!”

“Describe it,” I demanded, instantly alert. Yehpweyl jumped at my sudden intensity.

“It's a bunch of offices,” she replied, “I didn't see inside most of the room, but there should have been around eight of them. One of the rooms belongs to Yaavtey, I know because Taaljheyz's room is beside his and I've been inside hers.”

“Contents,” I demanded, “armaments, location, sight lines-”

“I don't know!” Yehpweyl protested. “It was just a storage room with a desk and a bed! I'm not a soldier like you, I don't know anything about weapons or sight lines or whatever else you're going to ask about!” After finishing her outburst, Yehpweyl was panting with her hands flat on the table. Her eyes had swollen up, and she averted her gaze.

“What makes you think I'm a soldier?” I asked. Yehpweyl coughed a laugh, then covered her mouth quickly and composed herself.

“Are you serious?” she asked rhetorically. “Who else but a soldier would be able to beat up five men like you just did? Who-”

“Yaavtey,” I replied before Yehpweyl could continue with whatever point she was making.

“Yaavtey was a soldier!” Yehpweyl retorted. “He served the Kingdom of Dahmpiyah for twenty years! Taaljheyz told me about it one time.” Do they teach force magic in the military here? I wondered, What is the Kingdom of Dahmpiyah? Uwriy as a nation was confusing, but I thought that maybe I just had the name wrong. That's three, no four countries I've heard of in passing that I have no idea about.

“Regardless,” I replied, “I am not a soldier.” Yehpweyl looked at me doubtfully. “How familiar are you with the local wildlife and local black markets?” I asked.

“Wildlife?” Yehpweyl asked, looking confused. I didn't give her the dignity of a reply, so she sighed and rubbed her eyebrows. “Wildlife not much,” she answered, “markets though, what are you looking for?”

“Poisons,” I replied simply, “anything lethal or near-lethal. Paralytics or hallucinogens would also work, but ideally I would like to buy something which can kill with a touch or simply by being inhaled.” Yehpweyl's eyes bulged, and she inhaled sharply. Did I use the right word for 'hallucinogen'? I wondered briefly.

“There are poisons like that?” she asked. Once again I didn't give her the dignity of a reply and waited for her to continue. “I know of a few black markets where you might be able to find blue leaf, but-” she started.

“Out of season for the market,” I said simply, “already investigated that lead.”

“Right,” Yehpweyl sighed, “as for the rest, a hallucinogen is something that makes you see things, right?”

“Correct,” I replied. A memory flashed briefly through my mind of a hallucinogen gas attack I committed against a warbreed village during a mission. I'm not sure that I want Yaavtey to become that unstable, but attacking those around him would give a good distraction.

“Why do you-” Yehpweyl began, then she gasped. “You're not seriously going to try to kill him again? Are you insane? Do you have any idea-”

“Answer the question,” I demanded, raising my voice to just below a yell. Yehpweyl stiffened, then grimaced.

“There are some drugs I know of that can induce a dreamlike state where one is still awake, but they need to be brewed and then consumed with a berry extract,” she said. “Both taste awful, so I don't think you could use them offensively.”

“Can they be smoked?” I asked.

“No,” Yehpweyl replied confidently, “they have to be consumed in order. Berries then tea. Doesn't work unless you do it like that.”

“Other poisons?” I asked. “How about powerful ranged weaponry? Cann- I mean, steel tubes that explode and send a rock or metal ball towards someone, for instance?” Yehpweyl blinked a few more times in confusion, which was becoming a pattern. “Bombs then,” I sighed, “do you know where I can find some explosives?”

“You want something that explodes on purpose?” she asked. A tendril of rage reached up from my chest and made a quiet growl in my throat. Bunch of primitives, I grumbled, I could make some nitrate explosives, but it would take months. I could probably synthesize some dangerous chemicals if I could get my hands on supplies, but these people can barely make high-carbon steel from what I can tell. How am I supposed to beat a superior opponent if I can't get superior equipment?

That thought put me on a tangent briefly. Yaavtey was a superior opponent, physically speaking and possibly magically as well. Now that I had used force magic more I knew the approximate strength of my own casting. At maximum output, I could exert a force equal to around half of the strength of a single one of my arms on an external object, and twice as much internally. It wasn't a huge amount, but force magic had some quirks to it. Firstly it didn't care about friction, the texture of an object made no difference. Secondly, it was divisible. Possibly infinitely so if one had the mental strength for it. I couldn't figure out how to crush things with it, but it was definitely possible to move more than one object at once. Finally, it didn't have a ramp-up time at all. The force was applied immediately and fully to whatever the target was.

Given what I knew it made no sense that Yaavtey could have stopped the knife going into his neck unless he simply had more output than I did. Even at my absolute maximum, I would not have been able to decelerate a knife with that amount of force behind it before it had gone through my spine. The question is, what determines the strength of someone's magic? I thought, Is it like a muscle, growing with use, or perhaps is it determined by genetics and set at birth. Can I get stronger? I think I’ve gotten stronger in terms of output since Suwlahtk, but without some measurement tool I can’t be sure.

“Are-are you okay?” Yehpweyl asked. I had been silent for a few minutes while I thought.

“Magic,” I said, “Yaavtey is very proficient at using it. How did he get that way?”

“I don't know,” Yehpweyl snorted, “some people are just better at it than others. I know plenty of people who can barely even light a candle, but then there's... people like you.” Probably genetic, at least as a baseline, I cursed, of course my operator didn't think to give me an organ or interface equivalent to the human maximum, that would have been too logical. “You could try going to a temple and praying, I suppose,” Yehpweyl suggested.

“Why?” I asked.

“The spirits favor those who are pious,” she replied with a tone of factuality. “They would be more willing to listen to you if you showed them your faith.” Yet more human delusion, I grumbled.

“I suppose Yaavtey must pray a lot then,” I said, with a hint of sarcasm. Half of my point was a derisive rejection of the nonsense Yehpweyl was spouting, but the other half was an implied question about Yaavtey's habits beyond his work and home life. Yehpweyl grimaced again and said nothing. Thought so, I grumbled, that would have been too easy. “Fine,” I said, “what can you offer me that is actually worth something?”

“I don't have much money on hand,” Yehpweyl said quietly, “not nearly enough to pay you back. That's why I thought you wanted to, you know. I could still-”

“No,” I refused, “the clothing, can you sell it? You have a lot.”

“I'd need a buyer and I don't think anyone would want to buy a shehp's used clothes,” Yehpweyl said, “I don't really have much besides food supplies and the inn itself.” That word must mean “prostitute”, I realized as I put various contexts in which I had heard it together in my mind.

“I'll be staying here then,” I declared. Yehpweyl looked at me, wide-eyed. Part of her expression was fear, and part was shock. “You won't be calling the guard,” I added. It wasn't a question.

“For free?” she asked. The lilt in her voice was strangely hopeful.

“Obviously,” I replied, “food will also be free, as much as I want, and I will observe you preparing it if I feel the need to. I've clearly paid you for several months' worth of lodgings and services. You will provide them.” Yehpweyl bit her lip.

“I thought you wanted to leave?” she asked.

“With any luck, I will be leaving very soon,” I replied.

“What if I still owe you money?” Yehpweyl asked nervously. Her eyes met mine, then darted away.

“I have no interest in money beyond its ability to provide for my needs,” I said. “Do you know of an inn in Pehrihnk?” Yehpweyl frowned. “In that case, when I leave here you will never see me again either way. You may consider the debt settled once I leave Vehrehr.”

“Just like that?” Yehpweyl asked, sounding hopeful. My body's anger flared at her presumptuousness, but I once again shoved it down.

“I will take your response as agreement,” I declared, standing up. “I need to attend to other business now. Inform your patrons that there will be no further trouble, and attend to any issues with the guard.” Yehpweyl's face began to shift into a smile, but then I continued. “Do not mistake my actions for trust. Should you step out of line, I will kill you immediately. Should I come back and encounter the guard, I will make it a priority to kill you before them. I am also a light sleeper, and any attempt to ambush or apprehend me during my sleep will result in your death as well as the deaths of all involved. Make no mistake, your life continues only because it is useful to me, and I am more than capable of claiming it at any time.” Yehpweyl didn't look up as I stated my conditions, and her body seemed to crumble under the weight of the words.

“I understand,” she said quietly, almost whispering.

I walked to the door, unlocked it, then exited into the sunlight. I saw a familiar group of fat men was glaring at me from an alley across the street. We made eye contact, then they all broke it one after another until none was looking my way. The inn door closed, and sobs came from inside.