Eloise VII: The Pillar of Commerce

Hobbling down from the north end to the beach was absolutely miserable. Eloise felt the constant ache in her leg jump to flaring pain with every step she took, forcing her to lean on Yse and a makeshift walking stick lifted from the hearth all the while. Though better than the alternative, I guess.

The city was strangely quiet for all of the shit-stirring that had been happening earlier, mostly just patrols of Guardians to avoid upon hearing them coming, with an occasional regular person fleeing that didn’t need to be avoided at all. Even the residences wealthy enough to have glass windows, rare on this side of town, had thick curtains of fabric covering every exposure.

A good thing, too. Last thing we need is some patrol deciding to pick a fight. Yse could maybe take out a couple with surprise on his side, but Eloise was in no condition to help. Most likely, they wouldn’t bother, though. If those idiots thought they could take over the city, they’d have better things to do than camp out at an old ruin.

The empty streets didn’t exactly let them make good time, after the shit Mince had pulled, but it at least helped balance things out.

Eloise winced as she stepped onto the beach, her stick sinking into the sand enough to mess up her movement, almost tripping her until Yse grabbed her arm.

Fucking Mince. Even dead she’s a pain in my ass.

“Uh, Eloise?” Yse asked, pointing towards the old temple in the distance.

She followed his gaze, looking at the conditions of the—“Fuck!”

“No guardians, at least. Unless they’re infiltrating without their uniforms.”

“Oh, well, no problem at all then. Fucking brilliant.”

Without any fire to light it up, the effect was hard to notice at first, but impossible to miss once it became visible. The accursed temple teemed with people, flowing in and out of the tunnel entrance like ants to their burrow, each shadow scurrying across the sand to reach the old ruin with minimal exposure.

“Maybe we should come back later?” Yse ventured. “They’re not being all that subtle. Guardians are bound to find them eventually.”

“And then what? If Jacques doesn’t have Margot, then the Guardians got her already. You know? The guys with all those qualms about killing children, who like to wait a while before executing people? We’ve got a day at most, and that’s if they bother to keep track of time in the midst of this.” Eloise slammed her stick into the ground, leaving it with a long crack down the middle. Khali’s curse. “Look, I know you’ve already done a lot. I’m not asking you to storm the prison with me, but…” But aren’t I? It’s not like I could do it alone, and there’s no one else left.

A burst of pain flared up, though she hadn’t done anything to cause it.

“I get it. You’d stick out trying to sneak in there.” Yse nodded, then turned his head towards the temple. “Where did you stash them, then?”

“It’s…” In that underground chamber with the pool of water, up on stilts in case it floods. The entrance had been firmly shut and covered with dust and muck, clearly unused and unfound since the Foxtrap. And with a cloth over them, even someone who’d brought a torch down would struggle to make them out in the darkness.

But what happens when I tell him that? He’d saved her from Mince, that seemed like the sort of thing that ought to earn some trust—No, some confidence in his reliability. But her old crew should have too, longtime allies on the Seaward Folly and their handpicked replacements. So should have the train heist crew, but instead they’d been teeming with fucking rats, handing weapons over to Mince to try to kill her, forcing Eloise to dig up all the stashes that were left and haul them out here by herself.

Yse had defied Jacques in whacking Mince like that, but it’d be easy enough to explain away if he had to, if the return were good enough. Mince hadn’t exactly made many friends. Yse would be aware of the value of what Eloise knew, and what he could accomplish with it.

No, Yse was probably about as trustworthy as they came, but that didn’t stop the whole exercise from being stupid.

“I’ll have to show you. Some of those people look like they’re limping anyway; I’ll be fine.”

“If you say so.” He took a step towards the temple, then stopped, belatedly realizing the issue.

“We’ll have to double back and go through the tunnels, blend in with the crowd.” More walking, for fuck’s sake. How nice it would have been just to wait here.“You might want to take a dive in the sand before we go; your jacket is looking a bit pristine for this crowd.”

“What, and you don’t have to?”

“I’m covered in blood, with a broken leg. I think I’ll manage.”

Yse glared, but clearly he saw the sense in it, since he began to unbutton his jacket. He peeled it off with a shiver, clearly contemplating leaving it behind entirely, then wrapped it around his arm. “This cost me seven hundred mandala, you know. From a store that doesn’t stock them anymore because they’re made of the finest Fortan wool.”

“I could wipe some blood on it, but the sand is probably easier to wash out.” She shrugged. “Or you could chance it, leave it as it is. That’s not what I’d recommend, but—”

“Every sheep is infused with a trace of power from a dead flame spirit,” he muttered, wiping his jacket along the wet ground, flipped inside-out. “Buy one now, and you’ll use it for life!”

“Maybe give it a rip too, just for authenticity.”

“Maybe we should break your other leg while we’re at it.” He pulled on the jacket, mucky lining facing out. “I can’t even dry this over a fire without it shrinking. And good luck getting anywhere with a clothesline in this frigid, sunless wasteland.”

“My heart bleeds for you, Ysengrin, wasting so much of your money on something so impractical.”

“Yeah, that’s not the only thing you’ve got bleeding right now. Let’s just go.”

An alternative tunnel entrance wasn’t far, but somehow that only made it worse, spending twenty minutes shuffling glacially down a path that should have taken five.

And then the tunnel itself, illuminated only by half a candle that Eloise had fallen on and broken apart, still more than many of the other people there could manage.

A boy of maybe fifteen was manning the exit, gesturing for another group to run across the sand once the previous one made it to the temple, controlling the flow of people. As they got closer, it was easier to see the streak of blue in his hair, the same Acolyte marker Claude had worn. “Guessing you can’t run?”

“I’m not exactly setting any tourney records.”

The boy smiled, waving another group through. “Just wait a few minutes, and I’ll get some of the lads to carry you. Two’s probably enough; you’re just a slip of a thing.”

And you’re just a stupid child playing at gallantry. That was much the same for the adults who tried their hand at it, admittedly, and this was no time to protest.

I could have just sent Yse by himself and avoided the ‘sack of flour’ treatment. If he’d taken the guns and thrown her to Jacques, though, this hardship paled in comparison.

“Actually, Colin, I’d like a word with her first. And her friend.”

Oh, what now?

“The woman in blue…” Yse turned his head to face Camille Leclaire, great spirit of talking herself up and then getting shot without accomplishing anything. “Wait, didn’t I see you in Clochaîne Candles?”

“No, obviously that was some other girl with her entire head dyed blue.” Eloise rolled her eyes, feigning a lack of concern. “Let’s just get this over with.”

Camille led them back a ways, then into an alcove out of earshot, the beginnings of a tunnel down that was sealed off, filled with ice. She’d cut her hair, the blue now only a ring around the outside, while most of it was dirty-blonde with a heavy emphasis on the ‘dirty’. Her coat didn’t fit very well, almost completely obscuring her figure, and even smelled faintly of sweat.

How the mighty have fallen.

“What are you smiling about? You look like you tried to fight a bear and lost.”

Eloise smiled harder. “You look like you tried to fight a sun sage and lost.”

The aristocrat scowled at that, delightfully. “You haven’t introduced me to your fine friend here, Eloise. Where are your manners?”

Probably buried next to my mother. “This is Ysengrin. He’s solid.”

“Ysengrin?” She smiled. “You, sire, know your history.”

He doesn’t know shit. He saw a tapestry of a wolf with that written under it and insisted that it was his alias from then on.

“I do,” Yse lied, returning her smile.

Oh no.

“Obviously you’re aware of how crucial Ysengrimus was to the Fox Queen’s victory in Charenton, but did you know that the spirit-touched shadow dogs were named ‘grims’ after him? That in turn is one suspected origin for the Grimoire family name, though of course that could also come from the Old Imperial word ‘grammaire’ for scribe, since only the upper echelons of their society could read and write.”

“Maybe it’s both,” Yse offered, trying to contribute without having any of the knowledge needed to do it.

“Speaking of history, Yse, this is Camille Leclaire. She fled Malin to leave it occupied, then returned only once she’d ruined things in her Guerron hideaway and had no other options.” If you let her get her hooks into you just because she’s a pretty face capable of banal compliments…

“When I was seven, after my mother sacrificed herself to give us a way out, that we might survive to fight another day, to return and liberate our people. I’ve been preparing my entire life for this moment.” She shrugged. “But I suppose there’s also value in aimlessly burglarizing people.”

“Actually, I mostly focus on distribution.” He adjusted his jacket, transparently showing off. “Though it never hurts to have a little muscle.”

“I dare say not.”

How can you not see through this? She doesn’t even look that good right now. “Well, happy to make these introductions. Every new face could be a new friend, as they say. Now, if that will be all, we should really be—”

“Sneaking into my temple?” Leclaire finished. “I thought you might be here to see me, trying to get my help weaseling out of your vow to the Prince of Darkness. But you stashed the pistols there, didn’t you? Why else would you be so eager to go?”

“Don’t flatter yourself. Most people feel that way pretty quickly when they’re talking to you.” Fuck! Why did I have to get sentimental about the hiding place? Really, Eloise should have moved them again the moment she’d started negotiating with the aristocrat, but if Camille had been watching the temple or Eloise, that would have been a great way to give it away for nothing. Even now, it could be weeks before she found them. Leclaire would have often frequented the temple as a child, but a child would hardly have explored every forgotten crevice, and the hatch down thoroughly blended into the floor.

Next time, instead of telling anyone, or picking the place she’d kissed her first girl, Eloise would just pick a random spot and dig a hole. No co-conspirators, no complications. None of this shit that was progressively eroding everything.

If there even is a next time.

“I’m going to be honest with you,” Leclaire began, obviously lying. “I haven’t slept since the coup started; I’ve been running back and forth across town trying to get people to shelter before the Guardians club their head in; and I still don’t know where they’re keeping Luce, if he’s even still alive. I vowed to protect him against Avaline enemies, and I would hazard the guess that you are in a similar boat after your deal before Cya. Not screwing him over, etcetera.”

“Maybe. He was captured?” I just saw him, right when the… “Fuck me.”

“Captured at a minimum, but I have to imagine they’d want him dead publicly if he were. Otherwise they risk parts of the Avaline apparatus continuing to act on his behalf. I have a contact who’s close to Lady Perimont, and an inkling that he might better know what’s going on, but I can’t get within a mile of him without a Guardian grabbing me.”

“Really? With that hair, you blend right in.”

“They know my face too. I’ve spent most of the last two months coming and going from the Governor’s Mansion. I was hoping I could send someone to talk, get an idea of where we can plan the jailbreak. Charlotte would have been better, but I was already pushing my luck there. She barely trusts me enough not to shoot me.”

Eloise rolled her eyes. I can’t imagine why.

“I can’t imagine why,” Yse said, concerned. “But I can’t help but notice that you’re asking us to do something and offering nothing in return.” There you go, Yse! Nicely done. “This whole beach colony thing is going to poke a fork into Avalon’s eyes, and I’m all for that, but I don’t work for free, and neither does Eloise.”

“Liberating Malin isn’t enough?”

“You’re talking about rescuing the dark prince. Not exactly the same thing.”

“It’s all part of a plan to—”

“I’m sure you’ve got a great plan, but even then, we’re not here to do your bidding.”

Camille chuckled. “It’s cute that you think I’m talking about you, Ysengrin, but it’s Eloise that I need. Perimont is gathering up the Convocation of Commerce in a few hours to ensure they’re all behind her, and I need someone who could credibly attend, like Jacques Clochaîne’s lieutenant.”

Yse shot Eloise a look, apparently not experienced enough in negotiating to know to avoid that sort of thing.

Leclaire exhaled a visible stream of air through her nose. “What?”

“Jacques… might not take kindly to seeing me there. We had what’s referred to in the candle business as a professional disagreement.”

“I mean, he’s not going to attack you then and there, right? Not in a room full of businessmen.” Yse scratched his chin. “Ms. Sunderland goes to those things too. He’d have her and her people watch you, make sure you’re followed every step of the way until you’re out of sight. Then—”

“Buy me a cup of tea, no doubt.” Stop giving away details in front of her. At least he hadn’t mentioned Margot. “But I wouldn’t underestimate his brutality. With me, there’s a good chance he’d want to do it personally. Normally I think I’d be able to slip out of Sunderland’s grasp, but like this…” Once again, Mince, from the bottom of my shriveled black heart, fuck you. “Anyway, that’s all beside the point until we talk about payment.”

“Of course.” Leclaire clicked her tongue disapprovingly. “I’ll purchase the pistols, as we discussed, with further compensation for your help in this matter. Perhaps an additional quarter of the price?”

“Double it.”

“You—fine. I don’t have time for this. Double the price, once Malin is in our hands once more. Now show me where you hid the pistols.”

Eloise scoffed. “That’s not how this works.”

“Money up front,” Yse added.

“I’ll find them eventually, you know. There’s not an inch of the Great Temple I haven’t explored.”

“Seventeen years ago. And it’s filled with people now. Can you afford to wait, just to steal what I would so happily sell you?”

Eyes narrowed, Camille bit her lip. “Have you no loyalty at all? This is hardly the time to be haggling over trivialities.”

“If it’s so trivial, then just pay us. I’m the one with the high card here, I get to set the terms. Unless you want to spend the next week on your hands and knees scrubbing every inch of that place while Malin collapses around you, shut up and pay me.”

With a growl, the aristocrat slammed her hand against the wall of the tunnel. “I can’t, alright? Not until we link up with Guerron and get florins from there.”

“Oh, that is such bullshit. You’re richer than a hundred of the people back there put together. I already gave you a discount, you ingrate.”

Camille blinked. “Do you think I took a sack of gold with me into the watery depths? This is how it has to be.”

“Money up front,” Yse repeated.

“You’ve been palling around with princes and lordlings since the minute you arrived here. I’m sure you can scare up a few thousand mandala.” Even if the price is considerably more than that.

“That prince is captured or dead, the lordling just as far out of reach for me. I have a salary as Spiritual Liaison, but…” She bit her lip, putting on a sheepish face.

No, that’s not possible. “You spent all of it? The whole point of money is using it to get more money.”

“I’ve been funding a journal far above its budget, buying candles and blankets by the wagonload to try to keep people alive. I gave the last of it to Pierre Cadoudal for supplies. If I win, I won’t need it.” You won’t need it if you lose either. “I could help with the Clochaîne issue. Ensure that he doesn’t show up to this meeting. That would smooth your path quite a bit, would it not?”

Eloise looked to Yse, who shrugged. “I could maybe keep Ms. Sunderland clear long enough to give you an out. They don’t know where I stand.”

She turned back to Camille, with her baggy eyes and messy hair, someone whose first and last thought on hearing that Eloise didn’t want to screw Luce over was that a spirit had compelled her to do it, who was trying right now to alter their deal in her favor for a nebulous plan.

But if Margot’s in a cell, I might not have a choice. Whether or not she told Camille anything, using this contact of hers could be her best chance of finding her sister. And if Luce were really on the ropes… Well, it couldn’t hurt. He’d probably pay well after too, softy that he was.

“Alright, Yse, you were right, I should have just sent you in alone.” Eloise folded her arms, letting her cracked stick lean against the wall. “There’s a good chance I’ll have a few names to add to that prison-break list.”

“No such thing as too many.”

“Throw in seven hundred mandala for Ysengrin, and I agree.”

“Done.” Camille took Eloise’s outstretched hand and shook it. “I’m glad you can see things my way.”

You are so full of shit, you poncy prick. “The meeting, and guns, in exchange for double the initial price. And if you don’t honor that, I’ll shoot you myself.”

“Excellent.” Camille clasped her hands together connivingly. “Let’s see if we can get you some clothes that are a bit less… covered in blood. I think I know where to get you a proper cane, too. A nice serpent’s head handle…” She continued prattling on, leading them back to the beachside exit.

There’s a sixty percent chance she’s plotting to dispose of me the moment it’s convenient.

If she tries, she’ll get more than she bargained for.