The Dusk Guard Saga: Beyond the Borderlands

by Viking ZX

Chapter 6 - A Cold Reception

Southeast of Ender’s Isle

Blade leaned against the front gunwale, shielding her eyes with one set of claws as she looked out across the sunlit ice. Off in the distance, barely visible above the glare from the surface of the Ocean, a grey blob sat on the horizon, a single discordant point of color on the otherwise white-blue ice.

Ender’s Isle, she thought, lowering her talons and narrowing her eyes against the glare. It took us two days, but we made it. She dropped her eyes towards the deck, relief running through her head as her straining eyes thanked her.

Two days, she thought with a shake of her head as she lifted the hunk of scrap wood she’d found in one of the Manticore’s rooms, eying the long, narrow piece. This place is turning out to be bigger than I thought. Then again, maybe their method of transport was just slow.

Her eye found a trace line in the grain of the wood and she pulled her claw along it, a thin crescent of wood peeling back like the skin of an orange. Hopefully this contact of Hain’s turns out to be worth it, she thought as she pulled her talon across the wood again, deepening the cut. If we spend two days getting here just to find that they don’t have the information we need … She scowled, her grip on the piece of wood tightening.

I’ve just got to trust him, she thought, making another cut and then pausing to eye her work so far. It didn’t look like anything yet, of course, but the lines were strong, with no incorrect variations. Not that it mattered too much this early in the game, but still …

She began to whistle as she dug her talons back into the wood. Nothing complex, just a faint high and low tune to drown out the constant groan of the shifting ice around them, a mindless tune that could ebb and flow with the wind and make her thoughts seem a little less loud.

I just wish he’d at least tell us who this contact of his is, she thought, scraping a small hollow in the wood with the tip of her talon. The material was soft, easy to work with. At least that way I’d have some way of knowing what to expect. Probing Alchemy hadn’t gotten her any answers either. The earth pony had claimed no knowledge of Hain’s contact, though he’d admitted that there were a few possibilities he could think of that might have the knowledge. After which he’d quickly switched the topic to her own “anomalous abilities” and begun pressuring her to submit herself to a series of alchemical tests. Given that there wasn’t exactly room enough on the boat for her to avoid it, she’d said yes.

She grimaced as the series of testing batteries ran through her mind. Alchemy had certainly been … thorough. One of the potions he’d had her imbibe had turned her urine green. Another had made her violently sick, though when she’d thrown up, she’d vomited nothing but blue bubbles. After the sixth or seventh test, with no end in sight, she’d simply refused to drink another potion and stormed out, ignoring his protests.

Probably would have been a bit more accommodating if he’d shown the slightest idea what any of those results meant, she thought as she carved another line in the wood piece. That last one that made me break out in glowing spots … She shook her head, her whistling fading for a moment. He acted like it was the first time he’d ever seen that before. The wind picked up, her feathers rustling as the strong gusts swept over them, and she lowered herself, dropping more of her body behind the gunwale. Besides, what does it matter that I’ve got some sort of unique healing response?

She paused, her talons stopping in mid-cut. Then again, it was pretty weird. She set the bit of wood on the deck, watching it for a moment to make sure it wasn’t going to roll away with each gentle rise and fall of the ship, and then extended her right foreleg. Holding her breath, she extended one claw, and with a slow, gentle motion, drew it down the scales below her elbow. At first they resisted the cut, but then they parted, a faint pain running up her arm as a line of bright, red blood welled up in the wake of her talon. She pulled it away, wiping it on the side of the deck, and then watched. For a moment more the cut hurt, and then the pain faded. She ran her left wrist down the arm, pushing the blood aside. The scratch had already scabbed over.

A chill ran down her spine that had nothing to do with the coldness of the air, and she shook her head as she picked up the block of carved wood once more and began scraping her talons across it. So what if it’s freaky? she thought, her eyes flickering to the thin, red line as if waiting for it to heal up entirely. Quick healing would be pretty handy in a fight. Unless there’s side effects. She glanced at her recently cut foreleg.

Then again, if Alchemy can’t make head or tails of it, then there’s no sense wasting time fighting the slipstream. The wind picked up again and she tugged her wings tighter around herself, rotating her carving project in her talons. It didn’t look like much yet, but she could see the faint outlines of the shape it was becoming.

Kind of like this “team,” she thought, extending a middle claw and adjusting one of the cuts. She could see the shape there, see what Hain had in mind when he’d told her she was the lead, but so far that was all there was. Just the shape.

One of the reasons I started working alone in the first place, she thought, making a long, deep cut along one side of the block and then wincing when her talon got caught in the grain. She gave it a tug and the soft wood came apart, releasing her talon but with it a piece of the wood she’d wanted to leave in place.

Great, she thought, eyeing the new hole. I guess I’ll have to work around that. So much for the original image.

There was a metal creak as the door opened, and she looked up to see Hain step out onto the deck, his eyes narrowing against the bright glare of the sun as they panned across the horizon. His gaze met hers, and she nodded in acknowledgement as he stepped towards her.

“I’m surprised you’re not inside,” he said, his low voice carrying across the deck. “It isn’t exactly warm out here.”

“I needed some solo time,” she said, flicking the bit of broken wood from her talon and returning to her project. “Time to think.”

“Taking to one of the berths isn’t good enough?” Hain asked, coming to a stop a few feet away, his body rocking from side to side with each roll of the ship.

Blade let out a low laugh. “Every time I tried that yesterday, Alchemy just took it as a chance to get me to suck down another one of his potions.”

“You’re not so fond of that, I take it,” Hain said.

She rolled her eyes. “I don’t know, when was the last time you broke out in polka dots? It’s not exactly as amusing as it sounds.”

“I don’t think he called them polka dots.”

She waved her talons. “Whatever. It was annoying. And if it wasn’t that, he was beating me at that little game he has. The one with the colored bits of glass.”

“Bao?” he asked.

“That’s it,” she said, nodding. “I swear he’s just toying with me with each game.” She looked up at him. “How come he hasn’t played you at it yet?”

“Because he hasn’t beaten me in two years,” Hain said, a faint grin coming to his beak. “After that first year, I figured things out.”

“Right.” She rolled her eyes before turning her attention back to her carving. “Don’t play the tactical master at board games. Message clear. How far out from Ender’s Isle are we?”

“About an hour,” he said. “Do you have a plan for when we arrive?”

She shrugged, claws cutting another incision into her carving. “Rent one of those enclosed docks Alchemy was talking about so word doesn’t get out too fast that the Manticore is under new management, and then go looking for this contact of yours.” Another flake of wood fell away, more of the overall shape becoming clear. “You’re sure that they’ll be there?”

“They will,” Hain said. “Last I heard, they tended to operate out of this area. Ender’s Isle is the last really neutral place on the Ocean. If they aren’t out, they’ll be here.”

“And who is ‘they?’” she asked. Another cut, another scrape across the wood. She could see the beginnings of a beak now.

“The final two members of this team, hopefully,” Hain said, lowering himself to the deck, his eyes following each stroke of her talons. “I know you’re not sold on the team idea yet, but trust me, kit. If you want to do what I know you want to do for this job, you’re going to need more than just me and Alchemy in on it.”

“How many more do you think we’ll need?” she asked, not taking her eyes off of the figure growing out of the wood.

“We’re going to need these two minimum,” Hain said, his tone brokering no argument. “Without these two and their information, we won’t have a chance at getting back your package, whatever it is.”

She paused, her talons ceasing their repeated scrapes across her carving. ‘You’re sure of that?”

“I am,” Hain said, nodding. “Kit, the Cult of the Red Horn is quite literally an army. A small one, but an army all the same, with a whole cadre of maniacal, bloodthirsty pirates on a short leash. And they’re fanatics.” He leaned closer, his expression stern. “You can’t bribe fanatics. Or coerce them. Not easily. And not these ones. Which means if you want something from them, which you do—though you haven’t told us what—you’re going to need the right forces arrayed on your side.”

“You make it sound like we’re going to war,” she said, resuming her carving.

“You are.” Hain sat back. “In fact, I think by taking this ship, you’ve already bloodied their nose. So we need these two.”

“Giving us a team of five,” Blade said. “That’s an army?”

“It is,” Hain said. “If we can get these last two.”

“So either they’re really well connected, really good fighters, or both,” she said. “I’m not sure what you’re trying to convince me of here, Hain.” The carving was starting to come together now, a stylized image of a griffon locked in a dive, its limbs held tightly against its body.

“That you should be willing to take a reduced paycheck in order to hire these two, because we’re going to need them and their information.”

“Done.”

“Interesting …” The tone to his words sent a faint chill of suspicion through her, and she looked up.

“What’s interesting?” she asked.

“You’re being paid a massive sum of a money to fetch whatever it is, but you yourself don’t seem that concerned with the money at the moment.” Her talons paused as he continued. “Is whoever’s paying you paying you more than you let on? Or is there something else at stake here that you haven’t told us?”

“Two-hundred thousand is the final amount,” she said, eyeing the small carving. It was almost done now. Just a few more cuts. “Anything outside of that isn’t anything that you need to worry about.”

For a minute the deck was silent, save for the faint scrape of her claws across the now nearly complete figurine. It wasn’t her best work—she’d done her best to make the missing chunk she’d carved out as unobtrusive as possible, but it was still noticeable—but for something she’d carved over the last few half-an-hour or so, it wasn’t bad.

There, she thought, putting the finishing touches on the feathers around the figure's neck with a series of short, quick scrapes. It’s not perfect, but it’ll do. It was a male griffon locked in a dive, his eyes fixed on some distant target. The work was quick, dirty, but the figure’s shape was strong, the lines clean.

“You know,” she said, tossing the carving towards Hain. He caught it with one outstretched claw. “This carving is a bit like us.”

“Us?”

“The team,” she said, rising from the deck. “Overall, it’s not hard to see what we are. But there’s a lot of bad lines if you know where to look. There’s missing pieces, like that spot on the side, that no one’s filling in.”

“Your point?” Hain asked, looking up at her.

“My point, Hain ...” she said, glancing towards the horizon. Ender’s Isle was no longer a grey blob. They were close enough now that she could make out the low shapes of buildings, the faint green of pine trees. “My point is that I’d never expected this to be a team in the first place, just like that wood never wanted to be a figurine. And now you’re trying to ‘guide us’ into being one. But there’s holes in it. You just made a bunch of roundabout questions in order to ask me what my ulterior motive was, rather than coming right out and asking it, and yet you won’t even let me tell Alchemy why you got exiled from the Empire in the first place.”

Hain’s expression soured. “That’s none of your business,” he growled, clenching his talons into a fist and rising from the deck.

“Then neither is why I took this job, temizleyin?” she said, stepping toward him and flaring her wings. “The last two days you’ve been surly just because you don’t like bringing up your past. But if you’re going to act like my past matters and I need to be more of a team player, then you’d better be willing to fly with the rest of this talon along with me. Hepsi için tek kanat çırpma, right? That’s what my clan guard used to say. All for one, flying. So unless you want to do the ‘team’ the same favor of getting on the same page with the rest of us, don’t pretend that because you want the rest of us to fly to a pattern you won’t bank to means we’ll do it.”

She turned and stepped away, spreading her wings as she prepared to lift off. “You can keep that figurine, by the way,” she said, glancing back at him. “What’s left of it, anyway.” Her words seemed to stir Hain, and he glanced down, a look of surprise replacing the anger on his face as he saw the broken pieces of the figure she’d just carved clutched in his claws.

“I know I’m not good with teams, Hain,” she said, shaking her head. “I’m a forward thinker, aggressive, and not exactly skilled at the whole ‘working with others’ part, either. But I’m on the level with what I’m getting paid, and I have my reasons for why I haven’t told you exactly what it is we’re getting paid for.” She gave him one last look and shook her head. “If you want out, fine. We’ll leave you here at Ender’s Isle. If you want in, then you’re going to have to trust me that I have my reasons for what I’ve said, all right?” She turned back towards the bridge and pulled her wings down, lifting her body into the air and up. “Either way, I expect you to help us dock the boat before you go.”

A moment later she was inside, Alchemy giving her a questioning look from behind the wheel as she looked down towards the deck where Hain was standing, staring at the broken carving she’d made. Then, his expression locked in stone, he turned and walked into the cabin below them.

“Are we in trouble?” Alchemy asked, glancing over at her with a worried look on his face.

“I don’t know,” she admitted, eyeing the approaching the city through the glass. “Maybe not? Hain and I just need to get a few things clear.”

“He’s not the only one,” Alchemy said.

Blade looked down at him in surprise. And here I thought we were getting along pretty well, she thought. “Alchemy,” she said opening her beak. “Don’t tell me you’re getting annoyed with me too? Or Hain?”

“What?” He shook his head. “No, no. I was talking about your condition.”

Of course. She rolled her eyes as Alchemy continued to speak, something about “internal magic fields” and other phrases she didn’t have the first guess about.

“Alchemy,” she said, shaking her head as he cut off. “Would it help if I told you I didn’t understand any of what you just said?”

“Oh, well, basically,” he said, stumbling over his words a bit. “I need to run a few more tests. Maybe with a unicorn nearby.”

“Right,” she said, shaking her head. What have I gotten into? “Can it wait until later?”

“Yeah.”

“Then steer the boat. We’ll be at Ender’s Isle soon enough.”

“And?”

She sighed. “As long as you can promise me that you aren’t going to turn my urine green or something, sure, we can do some more tests …”

“Excellent.”

“After we pick up the rest of our team and figure out what our next move is, all right?”

“Good enough for me,” Alchemy said. There was a pause. “Although,” he said. “How keen are you on the urine thing? Because—”

“Alchemy …”

“No, no, seriously,” he said, though the grin on his face made it hard for her to believe he was. “I mean, after all, there are a lot of pretty good tests that tell a lot about you through your urine.”

“You’re seriously going to talk about this?”

“If you’re pregnant, for instance,” Alchemy said. “Or molting early.”

“I’m neither,” she said, shutting her eyes and wishing she’d just gone to her bunk.

“There’s a lot of other potions too,” he said, faint laughter working its way through his words. “I mean, if we stopped and picked up some new ingredients while we’re in Ender’s, I could make you pee fire.”

“Not going to happen.”

“Or ice!” Alchemy said, not even trying to hold back his laughter now. “I swear that’s a real thing. I don’t know why, but I’ve always wanted to find someone to try it on!”

“I’m really not asking for this,” she said, shaking her head.

“I mean, there’s a whole subsection of one of my books that was talking about this. No idea who did it in the first place, but I guess someone was curious …” Alchemy’s voice trailed on as she rolled her eyes once more, bringing them to rest on the distant town.

Seriously, she asked herself as she looked at the distant village. What did I get myself into?

* * *

“How long?” the pony standing on the dock asked, his loud voice ringing out over the jumble of activity that was the indoor harbor. Blade glanced back at the shape of the Minotaur behind her, its sails withdrawn as the dockhooves guided it into place, calling out orders and advice to one another as they began securing the vessel.

She had to admit it was a pretty interesting setup. Unlike water, the ice of the Ocean was hard to build across without finding your supports being eaten away beneath you by the constant grinding, so the builders of the indoor berths made use of an ethereal plating similar to that built into the underside of each of the ships. Heavy concrete buffers kept the ice at bay, and the ships could glide past the barriers and into the berth itself. Which, as far as she could see, made just as much sense for getting out from under adverse weather and performing maintenance on a ship as it did for the added bonus that unloading of cargo could be done in a more private setting. Not that there were any laws that she was aware of concerning what one’s cargo was on the Ocean, but even with their lack, there were bound to be shipments of value or quantity that their owners were going to want kept quiet.

Still, though the added bonus of privacy was nice, it was definitely going to come at a cost. She turned back towards the berth’s owner, eying the gruff-looking earth pony’s ragged, fire-red beard and mane. “Sorry?” she asked, keeping her head turned just far enough to the side that she could keep an eye on the dockhooves as they began the process of mooring the Manticore down.

“How long?” the pony repeated again. “As in, how many days is your ship going to be here? And are you needing a servicing?”

“No,” she said, shaking her head. “No servicing. And we’re only going to be here a short while.”

“Minimum rental period for the berth is twelve hours,” came the reply. “One-hundred and fifty bits.”

“One-hundred—” Blade snapped her beak shut with a click, glaring at the earth pony. He didn’t flinch. Of course he’s not budging, she thought as she stared down at him. He’s the one with the berth, and he’s bound to know how much the other berths cost.

“Fine,” she said, sitting back on her haunches and trying to look nonplussed. “But we want our arrival kept quiet, understand?”

“That’s another fifty bits,” the earth pony said, the corner of his mouth turning upwards in small smirk.

Fifty bits? She bit down on the urge to jump forward and strangle the smug-looking pony for his arrogance. “Fine,” she growled, the word slipping through her clenched teeth. “Two hundred bits in total. For the berth, absolute silence on the matter, and a refueling of our oil tank.” The last one seemed to catch him by surprise, but then he shrugged.

“Standard oil rates apply,” he said. “We have to—”

“On the house,” she said, leaning forward and scraping her talons across the deck for emphasis. “I doubt we’ll stay the night anyway, so you’re going to get a pretty nice payment for a berth we’re barely going to use.”

“I—um—” She didn’t miss the way the shore boss glanced down at her talons, his eyes widening slightly. “Yeah, right. You’ll only be needing it for a little while, then?

“Don’t lock the doors,” she said, pulling her talons back once more. “In fact, I’d bet we’ll be out of here before your shift is over.”

“I own the place,” he said. “I don’t have shifts.”

“Good,” she said, smirking. “Then you’ll still be here to open the doors when we leave.” To be fair, she wasn’t certain that they were going to be leaving that quickly, but it never hurt to be prepared. Especially when the port you’d just stopped in was surrounded by as many dangerous looking ships as Ender’s Isle was.

“Stay here,” she said, turning and spreading her wings. “I’ll be back with your money in a minute.” She jumped across the gap in the dock, ignoring the gangplank that the dockhooves were maneuvering into position further up.

“What’s the fee?” Hain asked as she stepped into the cabin. The older griffon was standing by the doorway wearing his combat harness, the knife she’d seen strapped across the front of his shoulder.

“Two-hundred bits,” she said, stepping past him and heading for her bags. She’d never bothered to stow them with any of the ramshackle gear that had come with their stolen ship. They were still sitting out in the open, easily accessible.

“Sounds about right,” Hain said, nodding as he adjusted his harness.

“Really?” she replied as she picked up her bags. “Because I’m pretty sure he’s making a pretty good profit.”

“He has to,” Hain said with a grunt. “The plates they use on the bottom of these things aren’t cheap.”

“Right,” she said, nodding as she spilled her bit bag across the table and began counting out the shore boss’s payment. “Well, I’ll be leaving Alchemy behind to make sure they don’t mess with anything. I don’t quite trust these guys, and Alchemy would know what they’d need to touch.”

“A berth with a bad rep probably doesn’t last long,” Hain said.

“Only if word gets out,” she countered. “I’d be leaving Alchemy here anyway. I want the Manticore ready to leave the minute we’ve got what we need.”

“Fine,” Hain said. “That’s probably a wise idea. If one of those ships out there gets a good look at us and notices we’re not Ennuis ...”

“Yeah,” she said, nodding. There had been three ships anchored outside the public docks flying the Bloodhooves’ flag—a singular image of a burning, bloody hoof. The payment slid into her outstretched talons, the metal coins and bars clinking against one another, and she turned, dropping the payment back into her bags before throwing them across her back.

She glanced up at Hain as she adjusted them, eyeing the older griffon. He wasn’t looking at her, but rather staring off into nothing, his eyes focused on something distant. He was probably still smarting from her comments earlier. Better to stand up now, she thought, opening her beak. “Hain?”

“Mm?” He looked over in her direction, one eyebrow raised.

“I apologize for my outburst earlier,” she said, forcing the words out of her throat. “You’re right, there are some things about this job I haven’t explained yet, and some things I haven’t said. And my reasons for holding them back aren’t exactly the best.” She shrugged. “And I do need to take the advice of my tactician, so as soon as we get back from meeting with your contact, I’ll tell you what I can. But,” she said, raising a talon as he opened his beak. “While I understand that I’m not used to working with a team, I will not retract what I said earlier. If you’re going to make me be the leader and act like it, then I need you to act more like your old self rather than hiding it.”

“You realize that old self betrayed everything he stood for?” Hain said, the words barely a question.

“No,” she said, shaking her head. “You betrayed everything your employer stood for. There’s a difference. You stood up for what you’d decided was right.”

For a moment Hain was silent. Then he nodded, sitting back on his haunches. “I get the feeling you didn’t always think about it this way.”

She shook her head. “Not until I had to make a similar choice. Don’t get me wrong,” she said. “I always respected your place in the history books, but I always wondered about that choice you made. Honor—your contract—versus the griffons you were commanding. The friends you’d made.” She laughed. “And then I had to make a choice like yours. Smaller scale, same thing.” The odd hollow was back in her chest now, the strange, empty feeling that had come every so often when she’d thought back on it. She shoved it back down.

“And?” Hain prompted.

“I don’t know,” she said, shrugging as the feeling faded slightly. Gone, until she thought about it again. “I don’t like thinking about it. I don’t think I entirely chose wrong, regardless of the choice I did make, but …”

“But what?”

“When you accused me of not caring about the money,” she said. “You were kind of right. The money’s only part of it. For me, the job is … I guess you could call it a favor. A way to make up for that tough choice I made.”

“Even though it was the right choice?”

“Who’s to say if it was right or wrong?” she said, shrugging. “You know our culture. You know honor to the job comes first. That’s right, because it’s how we went from killing each other most of the time to holding some semblance of sanity.”

“Then I’m afraid I don’t get your point,” Hain grumbled, frowning. “So are you saying I didn’t make the right choice?”

“Honestly?” She let out a laugh. “I have no idea what I’m saying. I’m not much for apologies, either. It’s kind of why I left the Empire in the first place. I guess … I guess I’m saying that I can kind of see both sides now. To your choice. Because I had to make a similar one? And I kind of get how it feels to be in that spot?” She gave him a hopeful grin.

“Well …” he said, tilting his head to one side. “I guess as apologies go, that’ll have to do. I kind of owe you one as well, kit. You were right. About me having a bit of a chip on my shoulder, I mean. Heck,” he said, letting out a dry laugh. “I wouldn’t even tell Alchemy what my deal was, and he’s one of the few friends I’ve got up here. So I apologize as well. For being an old buzzard.” He held out one talon. “To trying again?”

“I’ll take you up on that,” she said, giving his claws a firm shake.

“I’m still going to fly like a talon commander about you being a leader, though,” Hain said as he pulled his talons back. “And you saying you left the Empire doesn’t really surprise me.”

“Yeah, well, it was entirely legal, everything I did,” she said, her ruff rising momentarily. “Let’s just say that your employers start balking when the bill gets too large.” She turned towards the stairs, motioning for him to follow.

“Actually, I was referring to you saying you think you understand my choice,” Hain said. “Most griffons wouldn’t dare admit that. You must be a bit of a radical.”

“Maybe you’ve been away too long,” she said. “Not that you have much of a choice, but let’s just say that the aftermath of that decision didn’t pass without a mark.”

“Well, it isn’t getting reversed,” Hain said, his tone implying that he was done discussing it. “Now, what were you saying about a large bill?”

“Oh, that?” she asked, glancing back down at him as she climbed up to the bridge. “Pretty standard. Contracts give you license to pretty much do what it takes to solve the job, repercussions fall on your employer, right?” She rose onto the bridge, Alchemy turning and looking at her as she kept talking. “Well, although everyone tends to tell you they want the job done as quickly and efficiently as possible, some griffons have problems getting their money to match their claws.”

“Wait,” Hain said, a look of puzzlement on his face. “Are you saying you left the Empire because you were accruing too many fines?” The look faded, an expression of surprise and then amused amazement taking its place.

“Not too many,” she said, feeling a flush run beneath her feathers. “Just enough that potential employers started getting nervous about a few light breezes and wouldn’t fly.”

“How much was the biggest fine?” Hain asked his grin growing wider. “Are we talking a couple of hundred reeds or—?”

“A little over eight-thousand,” she said, folding her forelegs as Hain’s question exploded into a loud burst of laughter. “Yeah, yeah, laugh all you want,” she said, shooting Alchemy a look as he too began to snicker. “Everyone’s a critic. I’ll have you know I got that job done a week earlier than they expected it to be done, and with a lot less red tape, too.”

Her comment only made Hain laugh harder, and she slumped back against the wall, doing her best to give both he and Alchemy both a level gaze as her cheeks burned. “Are you done yet?” she asked as the grey griffon began to wind down.

“Yeah, for now,” Hain said, his words still interrupted by random chuckles. “Could I ask what you did?”

“No,” she said, shaking her head. “And we’ve got a job to do, so let’s try and stop laughing long enough to get to it.”

“Right.” Hain let out a cough, clearing his throat, and straightened, taking up his usual, military-straight stance. With the exception, she noticed, of a barely held-back grin beating at the edges of his beak.

I don’t know why everyone finds that so outrageous, she thought as she turned towards the stairs. It’s not like we haven’t already technically done more by stealing this boat.

“Hey,” she called as she climbed up to the bridge, her voice pulling Alchemy’s attention towards her. “Alchemy, I want you to stay here and keep an eye on the boat. The dockhooves are going to top off the oil so we’ll be set to leave. You said we’ve got plenty of food and water right?”

“We could use more water,” Alchemy said, shrugging. “But yeah, that’s about it.”

“Make sure they get that done, then,” she said. “Hain and I are going to go meet with his contact. When we get back, we’re out of here, and we’ll hopefully be able to sit down and get a handle on exactly what we’re doing next, and what we’re after, all right.” She waited for his answering nod and then moved back down the stairs. “Hain? Let’s move.”

She paid the shore boss on the way out, passing over a hundred bit bar and two fifty bit coins which vanished into his vest as quickly as she’d handed them to him. Even as they left, walking out the ordinary door at the back of the berth, she could hear the boss calling for his workers and getting them to work fueling up the Manticore’s heater.

“So?” she asked, shivering as she stepped out of the heated dock and onto the streets of Ender’s Isle. “What’s the plan? Where do we find your contact?” She eyed a pair of pegasus ponies who walking down the other side of the street, chatting with one another, and then moved her eyes up the street, eyeing the various residents—mostly ponies—as they wandered past. At least this place is more lively than the Wharf.

“This way,” Hain said, starting down the street. “If they’re in town, they’re going to be in one of two places.”

“Right,” she said, moving after him and eyeing the citizenry. “And all those Bloodhoof ships out front?”

“Pushing things,” Hain said, his voice low enough she had to step a little closer to him to hear. “And you’d probably be best off not bringing it up, at least not loudly. As I understand it, Ender’s Isle is a small bit of a neutral spot between the Cragtooths and the Bloodhooves. The Bloodhooves can’t make a claim for it because it’s too close to the Cragtooths’ main base, and the Cragtooths can’t outright cut off the Bloodhooves access to the town without pushing things too far and inviting retaliation.” He paused. “There might be some local politics thrown into the mix too, the town itself not wanting to be part of the fight. Ender’s Isle grows a lot of the oilwart that fuels everyone’s heaters and boilers, so they’ve got some pull.”

“Sounds like a complicated mess,” she ventured.

Hain nodded. “Most wars usually are,” he said, his gravelly voice low.

“Is that what this is?” She eyed a few of the ponies trotting up and down the street, running her eyes over the contours of their heavy vests, instinctively checking for the disparate stiffness in the cloth that could imply a hidden blade or weapon. “Seems a bit small for an actual war.”

“Size doesn’t mean much to the ponies caught in the middle,” Hain said. Around them the buildings were getting taller, the air warmer. Wisps of steam spilled between their feet, small rivers of rapidly cooling air that rippled above the surface of the street, twisting and fading with each passing footstep. Up ahead she could see the source of the warmth—a massive array of greenhouses, the glass misted over with condensation.

“Food source,” Hain said, gesturing with one wing. “They can’t import everything, and the silt on the beach is great for growing food, as I understand it.”

“What about the water?” she asked, shaking her head even as the question slipped free. “Nevermind,” she said, the distant groan of the ice suddenly seeming much louder to her ears. “That one’s obvious.” She turned her gaze upward, eyeing the several vertical windmills sitting in the center of the block of greenhouses, their long, spindly vanes twisting in the air. There had been a couple of them back near the berths as well, though those had been slightly shorter and stubbier.

“Windmills,” Hain said, apparently following her eyes. “They use them to generate air pressure or—”

“I know what they are,” she said, ending his explanation. “I’ve seen them used in other places.” Her talons scraped across the ground, small bits of mud and dirt clinging to the undersides courtesy of the damper than normal ground. “So what you’re saying ...” she said, trying to pull the conversation back to its original point. “Is that this is a clan skirmish.”

Hain nodded. “That’s probably a better explanation than a war, given the size, but make no mistake.” He turned his head, nodding in the direction of one of the buildings they passed. “To the ponies that live here, it’s pretty much a war when it heats up.”

“Which as long as they’ve got the food and fuel supply, might be a while,” she said, nodding. “Gotcha.”

“That’s not what I meant,” Hain said, shaking his head.

“Then what did you mean?”

“That these ponies, minotaurs, and who-knows what else are just workers, Blade,” Hain said, his eyes growing distant. “Most of them don’t want a thing to do with what’s going on.”

She nodded, but it was pretty clear the conversation was over. I guess he doesn’t approve of it, she thought as they passed through the center of the town, their path still taking them toward the north side of the island. Then again, he’s not doing much about it. She’d seen firsthand the reign the Bloodhooves had held over Ruffian’s Wharf. Or maybe I shouldn’t be one to judge, considering I’m not doing anything about it either. She shook the thought from her mind.

Focus, Blade, she told herself as they moved away from the greenhouses and towards the outer edge of the town once more, her feathers ruffling as the air grew dry and cool once more. It’s the underlying message here. In other words, this town is a powderkeg, and he doesn’t want you setting it off. She smirked. Not exactly the best griffon for the job.

If Hain noticed her expression he didn’t comment on it, instead staying silent as he led the way. The air around them grew cooler, the wind growing in volume alongside the groan of the ice ocean as they neared the northern edge of the island. The buildings around them changed again, switching from the more compressed homes and places of business that had been built toward the center of the island to the larger and more drawn out shapes of warehouses and private ship berths.

Should’ve docked on this side of the island, Blade thought as Hain took a left, turning down another large, main street. This section of the island was much livelier than the southern half, she could see dozens of earth ponies and pegasi alone just on the street she and Hain were walking down, some of them carrying crates or packages, others just walking and talking in loud voices. A wagon was coming down the street, pulled by two earth ponies and piled high with wooden crates.

“There it is,” Hain said, his voice pulling her away from her examination. He gestured with a wing, guiding her attention towards a large, three-story building sitting at the corner of an upcoming intersection. “The Rusty Bucket.”

“That,” Blade said as they neared the structure, “might be the most generic name for a bar I’ve ever heard.”

“Yeah, I know,” Hain said. “But I think that’s part of the appeal.”

She tilted her head back as they approached the front of the bar, eyeing the faded, peeled paint on its sign. The name was still clear, though she wasn’t sure if the mostly faded image above it was supposed to have been a pot, a pan, or maybe the namesake bucket. Even if it had been, judging by the colors it hadn’t been a rusty one.

She stepped up onto the wooden sidewalk and felt a faint, familiar thrum reverberating through the wood, a familiar pattern that she couldn’t quite place. The feeling was mixing with the faint sounds from inside the bar, but after a moment she recognized the song for what it was.

“What?” Hain asked, pausing with his talons wrapped around the door handle. He must have seen her faint smile.

“Nothing,” she said, shaking her head. “I just recognized the song. It’s a personal favorite of an old friend of mine.”

“Right,” Hain said, tugging the door open.

The sound hit her only a second before the warmth did, rolling over her like an onrushing tide, and then she was following Hain into the bar, the door slamming shut behind her with a muted bang and closing off the outside. A large earth pony standing next to the door looked up at them from his seat, his eyes going first to Hain’s knife and then to her long talons, before going back down to the book he was reading, the side of his head giving a quick jerk towards a sign that said “Fight in the streets, not in the bar.”

I wonder if that works? Blade thought as she stepped past the bouncer and took her first look at the bar proper. Or is it just a hopeful request?

The bar spread out in front of her wasn’t any different from most of the dives she’d had the occasion of dropping into during her travels. Tables were scattered across the tiered floor, patrons laughing and chatting as they picked at food or took long sips from heavy, deep mugs. The place was well-lit rather than dim, and she nodded as she noticed the magilights hanging from the overhead beams. Apparently the place made enough money it could afford to ditch the lamps.

The actual bar itself was set against the back wall, long and low, but busy enough that it was being kept staffed by several earth ponies and a minotaur, all of whom seemed to be actively engaged serving the various sapients resting on the stools. A large sound system was sitting at one end, an entire spindle of records accessible to both the patrons and the bartenders, and she followed the wires from the player up towards the large selection of speakers that someone had nailed to the overhead beams. The speaker cones were vibrating and flexing with each note and beat of the twangy rock song, the music just loud enough that she couldn’t quite hear any of the conversation from the tables, just a faint mix of occasional loud words and yells. She could see several alcoves built into the sidewalls of the bar, open booths that nonetheless offered more privacy than the open floor. Several of them were occupied, though there were a few that were more empty than others, and one all the way near the back of the bar seemed completely empty, the light itself off.

“There,” Hain said, his voice barely audible above the din as he nodded his head towards the same corner she’d just been looking at. “He’s here.”

“Who?” Blade asked, but the older griffon was already on the moved, passing between the foremost tables and stepping around a dark-green minotaur who was hefting a massive tray of both drinks and food.

She shook her head and stepped into the bar after him, nodding at the minotaur waiter as she passed and then scanning the path Hain was following, trying to guess at his destination.

It wasn’t hard. The grey griffon was moving in as straight a line as possible, heading for a table right near the back of the room that was occupied by a group of earth ponies, pegasi, and one massive, dark-blue minotaur who was hunched low over something he was holding in his hands.

“All right,” the minotaur’s voice boomed, echoing through the bar above the loud music. “Wings? You in or out?”

Hain came to a stop a few feet back from the table, and Blade stopped alongside him as one of the pegasi shook her head.

“I’m thinking,” she said, her eyes fixed on the cards she was clutching closely in her hooves. “Don’t rush me.”

“Yeah,” one of the other ponies said, his chuckle barely audible. “Giver her time to consider how much more money she wants to throw away.”

The mare’s eyes flashed, and she leaned forward, pushing a small pile of bits toward into the center pot. “Fine then,” she said, spreading her wings wide as she sat back and laying her cards facedown in front of her. “Call.”

A low murmur rose up around the table, some ponies shaking their heads as the minotaur let out a laugh and slid a matching number of bits forward. “Call,” he said, grinning at the pegasus. “You’re just throwing it away, Wings.”

“So are you,” the earth pony on the other side of the table said, pushing his own pile of bits forward and adding it to the pile in the center. Blade made a quick mental guess and came up with a value of at least sixty bits, though she could see a few reeds and rings in the pile as well. “Call.”

“All right,” a fourth pony said, sliding a top card from the deck and adding it to the four already in place below the pot. “Here’s the tip of the berg and … horseapples.” He looked down at the card he’d just flipped and then back to his own hand. “And … I’m out,” he said, sitting back and glaring at the blue lady of diamonds staring up at him. “I fold.” Laughter circled the table, the two players nearest to the pony slapping him on the back and offering him consolation as they pointed to their own folded hands.

“All right,” the minotaur said as all eyes flipped back to the pegasus. “This is it, Wings. You done?”

For a moment the pegasus’s eyes darted between her face-down hand and what was left of her pile of bits, and then she shook her head. “Nope,” she said, folding her wings as she leaned forward. “I’ll call.” Another pile of bits slid into the center.

“Raise,” the minotaur said, not breaking eye contact with her as he leaned forward and tossed several more bits into the pot. “Ten bits.” He held the eye contact for a moment and then switched his attention to the lone remaining player, the pony with the smug grin. “You?”

“Call,” the earth pony replied, leaning forward and pushing a matching number of bits into the pot. “And sorry, Barnabas, but I think you’re bluffing.” He reached down and worked the tip of his hoof under his hand, flipping the two cards over to reveal the blue lady of spades and the red lady of hearts. A murmur of surprise echoed around the table. “Three of kind!” he called, sitting back with a smug look. “The ladies take it. Barnabas?”

The minotaur sat back with a look of disgust and flipped his hand over. “Two princesses,” he said, shaking his head as a chorus of disappointed moans filled the air from the half-a-dozen or so players that had folded. “I thought I had that.”

“You know,” the earth pony said, leaning forward and wrapping his hoof around the pot with a grin. “For the race that invented the game, you’re not doing so hot at representing it today.”

Barnabas scowled, but there was no weight to the look. “Oh, stuff it grounder,” he said, shaking his head. “Just collect your pot and let’s deal this next hand so you can get back to losing it.” The earth pony grinned and began pulling back his pile of bits.

“Oh, boys …” came a singsong voice from the other side of the table. Wings was leaning forward with her hooves crossed under her chin, a bright but smug grin on her face. “I hate to say it, but …” Her wing snuck around the edge of the table, and in a show of dexterity, flipped her hand. A five of diamonds and a princess of diamonds. “That’s a flush,” she said, pointing with one hoof at the two of diamonds, the seven of diamonds, and the lady of diamonds sitting below the slightly shifted pot.

For a moment the table was quiet, and then Barnabas began laughing, a deep, booming roll of thunder that swept across the table. “Hah!” the minotaur said, pointing a finger at the stunned and no-longer-victorious earth pony. “It looks like you weren’t the only one betting on that last card!” He swept the pot across the table towards the pegasus, slamming his free hand down on the tabletop with a loud slap as he did so. “Well done, Wings. Now let’s deal again.” His head popped up, his eyes darting across both Blade and Hain before dropping back down to the table. “Newcomers!” he said with a laugh. “Should we deal you in, or—wait.” The head popped back up, forehead wrinkling as Barnabas stared at them in surprise.

“Hain?” he asked after a moment. “That is you!” he said, his look of shock melting into a jovial smile. “Nervo’s pits, Hain! What in the blazes are you doing away from Ruffian’s Wharf, you old buzzard?”

That’s Hain’s contact? Blade thought as the minotaur laughed again and waved his hand towards Hain. Pretty loud. And large, she realized as she took a better look at him, noticing the chair he’d been sitting in was lower than normal. His dark-blue pelt was scarred, lighter patches crisscrossing the tight bunches of muscle, but she could still see the clean size of the minotaur’s build. He looked like a warrior. Even his horns, though chipped and bearing numerous scrapes, showed signs of frequent use.

“And who’s this?” Barnabas asked, looking at her. For a moment his eyes narrowed, the jovial look fading from his face. “She doesn’t look like she’s from the eyrie. Friend of yours, Hain?” he asked, turning his gaze back toward the older griffon, but not before she saw the slight twinge of his body as he shifted his weight. “Is that what got you off of your rock?” He slid his cards across the table towards the dealer with a quick flick of his wrist, but his eyes didn’t follow them. They were fixed on Hain.

“You’re right,” Hain said, nodding as he stepped towards the table. “She’s not from Teardrop. She’s from outside the Ocean.”

“Like you?” Barnabas asked, only for Hain to shake his head in reply. “I see …” he said, glancing in her direction once more. “And yet she got you to leave the Wharf.” He frowned, resting his weight on one elbow. “What’s she after?”

“We need information,” Hain said. “On a certain group.” Barnabas nodded, the reference to the cult clearly not missed, and then glanced at the rest of the table’s occupants, his smile a little less evident.

“Sorry, guys,” he said, his massive shoulders heaving in a shrug. “Looks like the game is over for now, and it’s my table.” He rapped his knuckles on the tabletop and then held an open hand towards the dealer. “Also, those are my cards.”

A chorus of groans echoed around the table as the various players sank back or collected their bits. Several of the ponies looked down at their meager leavings and shook their heads.

“Come on now,” Barnabas said, slapping the table for emphasis. “Half of you probably have jobs you’re supposed to be at right now anyway.” The grumbling persisted, but one by one the ponies trotted away.

“Well,” the minotaur said, turning towards them and motioning for them to take a seat. “Whatever it is that’s got you moving, Hain, it must be pretty big. I don’t think you’ve left Ruffian’s Wharf in the fifteen years I’ve known you. And,” he said as Blade pulled out a chair and sat down, “if you don’t mind me asking, miss, who are you?”

She glanced in Hain’s direction and then looked back towards the minotaur as the older griffon didn’t say anything. “My name’s Blade Sunchaser,” she said, setting one long pair of talons on the tabletop. “Wandering claw. I needed some information for a job I’m working on. Hain said you would have it.” Actually, she thought, he said two of you would have it. She took a quick look around, but none of the ponies had stayed behind, and there wasn’t another minotaur nearby that looked interested in the conversation, save perhaps the waiter.

The curious look on Barnabas’s face grew more apparent as she turned back, the minotaur leaning back and rubbing one massive hand across his chest. “Well now,” he said, staring at Hain and then at her. “And whatever you offered Hain was enough to get him to leave his house?” He let out a low whistle and then shook his head, grinning at the elderly griffon. “You must have some pull, little chick.”

She let the slight insult slide. “It might have helped that the Bloodhooves burned down his house just for talking to me,” she admitted.

Barnabas’s face hardened. “They did, huh?” he said, his jaw shifting to one side. “Sounds like you’ve made some enemies fast.”

“You don’t know the half of it, Barnabas,” Hain said, shaking his head. “Let’s just say we’d prefer to get our information as quickly as possible.”

“Right,” Barnabas said. “I—” Hain’s upraised claw stopped him.

“There’s more to it than that,” Hain said. “We need more than information, we need knowledge.”

“Ah,” Barnabas said, nodding in understanding. “This young miss here has recruited you, and now she needs my and my sister’s expertise. What’s the job?”

Again Hain glanced in her direction, and she spoke up. “I need to recover something from … a certain group—”

“You can speak openly about the cult in this bar,” Barnabas interrupted. “Trust me.”

“Well,” she said, glancing towards Hain. “Hain seems to trust you, so I suppose I should. I need to retrieve something from the cult.”

“What?”

“You’ll find that out if you need to know,” she said, shaking her head.

“I can’t help you find it if I don’t know what it is,” Barnabas said, grinning. “Besides, I’m with Hain on this whole ‘you can trust me’ thing.”

“Hain doesn’t know what it is either,” she said, shaking her head. “For now, we’ll call it … the package. A cult member I was tracking had it. Blue unicorn, with an eye for a cutie mark.”

For a moment Barnabas was silent. Then he leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table. “What’s my fee?”

“If you tell us where I can find him? Or if you help?”

Barnabas sat back with a laugh. “Anyone can tell you where to find him, miss. The whole cult’s holed up in that base of theirs out in the Bloody Tip. If he’s not on one of the boats, or managing one of the few towns they have a tighter grip over. But then again,” he said. “You don’t want help just with that. You want a hand tracking down this package of yours.” He paused for a moment. “Is it a unicorn?”

“It’s inanimate.”

“Hmmm …” Barnabas rubbed both his hands together. “Well, Ms. Sunchaser—”

“Call me Blade.”

“Very well,” he said. “Miss Blade, I and my sister can give you the information you need—”

“How?”

Barnabas paused, a confused look on his face, and she voiced her question once more.

“Again, how? Pardon my curiosity, but Hain here didn’t tell me anything about you. He simply said you probably had the information we’d need, and that we’d want to hire you.”

Barnabas smiled. “Well, then I’ll thank him for the glowing review and the chance to proclaim my own deeds.” He reached below the table and pulled out a massive, double-headed ax, dropping it atop the wood with ease. “My name is Barnabas the Breaker,” he said, grinning. “Former Cragtooth.”

“You’re a pirate?”

“Former,” he said, shaking his head. “We’re still on good terms with Titus and the rest of the fleet, but a few years ago we had to cut ties when my sister’s methods got a little too … zealous, shall we say, for them. Now, we’re just free blades.”

“You and your sister?”

He nodded, and for a brief moment his expression shifted, the smug, casual amusement replaced by something sadder, painful. Then it was gone, the minotaur’s usual look back in place. “Yes,” he said. “Most of the time we’re just helping out, but if you’re offering a job …”

“It’ll be for the recovering of the package and its components,” she said. “Regardless of who has it.”

“But the cult has it.”

“They had it last,” she said. “We’ll at least have to confirm whether or not they still have it.”

“And what’s the pay?” Barnabas asked, picking up his mug. “I mean, I’d love to do it for free, but my sister and I have to eat.”

She waited until he’d lifted the mug to his lips. “Fifty thousand bits.”

Barnabas’s eyes opened wide, the cup slamming to the table as he began to cough. “Fif—!” He shook his head, coughing again, and then spoke again, his voice softer. “Fifty thousand?”

“Payable upon the delivery of the package back to the contract holder,” she said.

“Who is?”

She shook her head. “Need to know information, and you don’t need to know.”

“Even if I agree?” he asked.

She nodded. “For this many bits, I’d imagine you wouldn’t have much reason to care who wants the package in the end.” She narrowed her eyes, waiting for his reaction.

“You’d be surprised,” the minotaur said, running one finger along the edge of his axe. “Just because I was a pirate, don’t expect me to just do something unjust. I have my standards.”

“Good,” she said, relaxing. “While I can’t disclose who holds my contract, I can tell you that they’re not in it for the wrong reasons. I’ve got a bit of a moral ground myself.” And more to recover.

“Good,” Barnabas said, nodding. “So, fifty thousand …” He shook his head as he lifted his drink again. “That’s twenty-five thousand apiece.”

“You misheard,” she said as he started another sip. “That fifty thousand is for you. Your sister—” She paused as the mug slammed down again, Barnabas staring at her in shock. “—would also earn a share of that.” Which leaves none for me, she thought, something inside of her protesting the way she was so casually giving away her paycheck. It’s not the paycheck, she told herself as Barnabas’s jaw flapped open and shut. It’s why you’re doing it, and who for. Don’t forget that.

“So …” Barnabas said, his voice slightly raspy and a stunned look on his face. “Maybe you’d better start from the beginning. Who do you need to find, again? And why?”

“A unicorn,” she said, smirking. “Can I assume that you’re in?”

Barnabas nodded. “I think it’s safe to assume that, but first, I’d better ask my sister.” He turned towards the empty alcove she’d spotted earlier, now only a few feet away. “Hey, Frost!” Barnabas called. “You might want to come out here.”

Blade raised an eyebrow as someone deep in the alcove shifted. I didn’t realize there was anyone in there, she thought. How’d a minotaur—?

Her train of thought stumbled as a long-legged, graceful looking pony slid out of the booth, her bright violet eyes locked on their table. She stood for a moment, her gaze sliding across each of them, her face cold, a thin-lipped expression so cool it could have been carved from ice. Then she turned, her horn lighting with a faint purple shimmer as she lifted a bow from her seat and set it across her back.

She’s a unicorn, Blade realized as the mare stepped towards them, her long, thin-haired mane sweeping back and forth across her shoulders. She had the look of a Canterlot supermodel, all long-legged and slender, except that where the pony models Blade had seen had been slender and faintly toned, the effect on this mare’s body was broken by the patchwork of scars across her ice-blue coat and the tight, bunched muscles that rippled beneath her skin.

But even that could have been excused if not for the mare’s eyes. They were cold, dead, as icy as the Ocean itself, so cold that it seemed a faint mist was rolling—No, Blade realized as she kept her eyes on the mare, a faint mist of cold was rolling off of the mare’s body. She glanced at the unicorn’s horn and saw a faint shimmer of magic around it. It was an effect, but a purposeful one.

No wonder Barnabas is so upbeat, she thought as the mare took a seat next to the minotaur without a word. Next to her, anyone would have to work twice as hard at being friendly just to keep from killing the mood.

“Hello, Hain,” the mare said as she set her bow on the table. “You’ve left Ruffian’s Wharf.”

“I have,” Hain said with a nod. “In the employ of this young chick here,” he said, tilting his head in Blade’s direction. “Frost, meet Blade Sunchaser.” Frost’s eyes turned towards her, but the mare gave no other outward indication of interest. “She’s going after the cult.”

Frost’s eyes widened in surprise, only to narrow moments later, the corner of her mouth turning up in a sinister-looking grin. “I’m in.”

“Uh, Frost,” Barnabas said. “Don’t you want to ask about, you know, pay?”

She shook her head, her long mane waving back and forth. “You know the deal, Barnabas. Jobs with the cult are on the house for me. You can charge what you want.”

“They’re offering fifty thousand bits,” Barnabas said, rubbing at his eyes with one hand. “Each.”

“Really?” Frost turned towards Blade. “Each?”

“Yeah,” Blade said. “I need to get something back, and I’m pretty sure the cult’s who has it.”

“Who are you after?” Frost asked.

“Blue unicorn, cutie mark of an eye—” she began.

“Subtle Eye,” Frost said, the name coming out thick with venom. “I’d heard he was back on the Ocean. Caught me by surprise too, I didn’t expect him back for another year. I was going to welcome him personally.”

“With what?” Blade asked.

Frost smirked, her horn lighting. Mist coalesced around her hoof and compressed before fading away and leaving a long, thin blade made entirely of clear ice. “A funeral,” she said, stabbing the ice blade into the tabletop with a meaty thunk.

“Right,” Blade said, nodding as the mare pulled her hoof back. “I take it you don’t like the cult.”

“No,” Frost said. “Your paying my big brother is more than enough for me—” Barnabas let out a pained groan, but Frost continued unabated. “—especially paying that much,” she finished. “You want me for a job that’ll kill some cult members? I’m in. No charge. As long as we do kill some cult members,” she added. “Though if you’re going after Subtle Eye, that’s guaranteed to happen.”

“Come on, Frost,” Barnabas said, shaking his head. “Take the paycheck.”

“They’ll be paying you enough for the both of us,” Frost said. “I’m fine with the terms as-is. Now,” she said, sitting back. “Why’d Hain bring you to me and Barnabas?”

“I—” Blade snapped her beak shut as she spotted one of the ponies from earlier in the corner of her eye, running for the table. “Company,” she said, tensing her body as the pegasus—Wings, right?—slammed into the side of the table.

“Barnabas!” she called, barely looking in Blade’s direction. Her eyes were wide, wild. “The Bloodhooves are docking!”

“All of them?” Barnabas asked in surprise.

Wings nodded. “All three ships,” she said. “I flew here as soon as I saw them. They’re … uh …” The pegasus’s voice faltered as she looked over in Blade and Hain’s direction. “Word is they’re looking for two griffons,” she said, her voice a little quieter but not nearly enough that either of them wouldn’t hear it.

“Well,” Blade said, glancing in Hain’s direction. “If those ships you’re talking about are the ones we saw coming in, then we need to be going. Now.” She looked back towards Barnabas and Frost. “If you’re in you’re coming with us. Are you in?”

“You’re going after the cult?” Frost asked.

“With you or without you,” Blade said, glancing toward the front door and trying to guess how long it would take their pursuers to find out they were in the bar. I wonder if Ennuis himself made it, or if he just sent word ahead?

“With us,” Frost said, standing. “No disputes, Barnabas.”

“Fine,” her brother said, rising and lifting a pack from below the table. “We’re in. You can explain what we’re doing and where we’re going after we get to your ship. Where are you docked?”

“On—” She caught herself with a shake of her head. The less information she said in a crowded bar, even with the music, the better. “We’ll lead you there. Got a back way out of this place?”

“Always,” Barnabas said, grinning and turning to make eye contact with the minotaur behind the bar. He snapped his fingers twice, and the bartender nodded.

“Follow me,” Barnabas said, stepping towards the kitchen entrance, his massive axe swinging in one hand. “And once we’re on your ship and out of here, we can go over the details of our employment, including exactly what it is you’re after. Frost might be on board with it just because it gives her a chance to go after the cult, but me? I like to know a little more about what I’m doing.” He stopped by the doorway, his eyes burrowing into her. “Hain’s bought you a grudging acceptance for this despite having no idea what we’re getting into, but I’d rather get the whole story as soon as possible. Clear?”

“That’s fine,” she said, holding her stare. “I only want to explain this once anyways.”

Barnabas nodded, and stepped through the kitchen door. She followed, and a minute later they were back out in the cold, the early twilight settling in around them as they made their way quickly back to the Manticore.

A short time later, they were back on the ice once more.

Count of Laws Broken: 0
Total Laws Broken: 57
Damage Value (In Bits): 0
Total Damage Value (In Bits): 37,416

Comments

[CopiousAmountsOfHugs]

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I'll take it! Wonderful. Now to wait for Thursday!

[AppleTank]

Blade wakes up pissing ice
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Complains

[AlouetteSK]

Leader - Blade
Lancer/tactician - Hain
Medic - Alchemy
Big Guy - Barnabas
AoE Mage - Frost(?)
That's only five in the team. Now to anticipate the mysterious sixth ranger.
[Help me I'm stuck in that infernal website again.]

Also, which country's laws are being broken? Assuming Equestrian, but why would that apply to some lawless areas? Prepare for massive spike in damages in the following chapters. Taking your recent blog into account, the only scenario that they could potentially fail without drastically ending the story would probably be [REDACTED].

[Viking ZX]

6099563
More the common laws of whatever town they happen to be in at the time. The Ocean of Endless Ice may not be a nation, but there are still some common rules sapients follow ... for the most part.

Edit: For the rest who are curious, lawless can mean both lacking in laws or lacking civic order.

As far as tropes go ... no spoilers. Sorry. I'll leave you guys to keeping that page going.

[AlouetteSK]

6099680 Now I'm expecting them to end up in a micronation where anything and everything they do is breaking the law, racking up an insane number of bits.

[Viking ZX]

6099038
As an author, you're doing something right if you release a 12,000 word chapter (that's about 33-35 pages in print) and your readers believe you're starving them with tiny morsels.

[Moosetasm]

Pretty standard. Contracts give you license to pretty much do what it takes to solve the job, repercussions fall on your employer, right?

Oh dear... I know a certain Aussie pegasus that's going to be in a LOT more trouble if this is true.

[Ytak]

Saw the word count and thought, "Whoa! Long chapter." Then I got to the end so quickly. I find myself really wondering who is financing the contract. I only have a loose suspicion but it is there. And would completely explain why Hunter ended up on KP.

I admit I laughed mightily at the scene about peeing fire. Or ice. You mean she doesn't want to literally pee fire and ice down on those that oppose her as she flies overhead? As a psychological tactic, there would be a time it would be appropriate.

[kyubbiman]

I am thoroughly enjoying your story so far and I am loving Blade's adventure but when are the Dusk Guard going to show up? I don't want to sound pushy but we're 50,000 words in and there is no sign of our lovable guard squad.

[Seirs]

Saw the word count and thought, "Whoa! Long chapter." Then I got to the end so quickly

I think that only happens more frequently as the story progresses, and the epic really starts to kick in, not that that's a bad thing.

[Bugsydor]

So now I understand the tallies at the end of each chapter. This is going to end hilariously for somepony.