[i]The small badger muttered under her breath as she moved through the snow, the body of a girl draped bonelessly over her like a puppet with its strings cuts. Were she not able to feel the weak breath flowing in and out of the girl’s lungs, she would have thought she was carrying a corpse. She was certainly cold enough to the touch to be one. Luckily, the girl was so light that Jo suspected there would have been little less difficulty traversing the snow without her at her back.

“Curse…”

A freezing breeze had picked up, snow riding with it to crash on the badger’s frame from all directions. It was almost as if she had walked into a dust devil, and she was forced to keep her head low and eyes half-closed to keep herself from being blinded.

“Curse the Reaper…”

Not that there was much to see in that white wasteland. The landscape looked the same in every direction, something that was not helped by the film of fog that hanged over them, making it difficult to see farther than a few feet away. It even made the light seem to lack a direction, as though the light in this place did not come from the sun but from the snow around them. 

“Curse the Reaper, bend your back and cheat your sorry grave…”

Jo sang this under her breath, hummed wordlessly for a few moments, and then repeated the words again. They were lyrics to a sea shanty she had once heard about a sinking ship. That line was the only one she remembered, but the insistence with which she intoned the words made it easy to ignore her trembling limbs. It had not taken long for the biting wind to sink through her fur to steal at the heat of her small body.

Nonetheless, something in her gut told her that this was the direction in which she should be walking. Something was waiting for her in this direction. She knew this with a certainty that she could not put into words, but whether whatever was waiting was good or bad news, she could not tell.[/i]

Don’t matter when you got nowhere else to be.

[i]Jo glanced up once again, as she had been doing periodically to ensure she was not about to walk off the edge of a cliff, and what she saw made her pause. She blinked. There was a light up ahead, shining through the mist.

The badger barked a laugh and redoubled her efforts, thinking that she might have lucked out and managed to find civilization.

A few more minutes of marching into the snow revealed the source of the light, but it had not been quite what the badger had been expecting.

A large brazier rested atop the snow, a flame taller than most humans she had met dancing atop it. Jo grumbled at this strange apparition, and began to approach. Out of place as it was, fire was fire. They needed the warmth. 

As she neared, she realized two things. The first was that, despite the sweltering heat radiating from the flame, all the more noticeable in the cold, the snow surrounding the brazier remained without hints of melting. The second was that she could see no coals fueling the fire. The flame simply seemed to exist atop its plate, standing in defiance of the snowstorm, placidly ignoring the wind that threw snow every which way.

She almost failed to notice when the unconscious girl slipped from her shoulders, but that was fine, was it not? They were close to a fire. Out in the snow, she lacked any form of a chance, but now she could regain her strength under the warmth of the pyre. 

And what a strange fire it was. It glowed a yellowish orange, as if fed by wood in a hearth, but if she peered closely at it, Jo thought she could see wisps of white, green and pink flashing through it. 

And yet… there was something missing… something she…

“No… stop,” the weak voice brought Jo to her senses. 

She had one paw outstretched towards the flame, which flickered barely a foot away from the outstretched limb. The heat coming from the fire buffeted at her, and she stepped away, shaking her head and forcing her gaze away from the glow. Trying to keep herself from looking at the strange brazier, she returned to where she had left the girl.

Her eyes remained closed, but her breathing had turned rougher. Stronger for that, but rough. Had she spoken in her dreams?

Irritated, the badger poked at the girl’s cheek, then lifted one of her eyelids. “You playing dead down there, girl?” A familiar blue eye twitched aimlessly, and Jo let the eyelid close, slightly unnerved by the lack of response. 

She glanced around herself, careful not to stare into the fire for long as she tried to consider her options.[/i]

[hr]
The sound of the engine thrummed softly as the vehicle coursed through the flooded streets, its driver eerily aware of which roads he could take to keep the water from stalling the device. Pithy had rapidly given up her skepticism after a few blocks had gone by without incident, and had instead settled against her seat on the back of the Rover, injured leg extended over the glossy, dark upholstery.

Her mind was on the events of the last hour, going over the words she had exchanged from Oren, and what she had seen from her defeated enemy.

“A pocket dimension?” she said after a long moment of silence. “Is that where you keep that sword and shield?”

She saw the slight nod from the one at the driver’s seat. His brow was set on a frustrated scowl, and blood stained much of his lips and jaw. 

Pithy suppressed a pleased smirk. It seemed he was not in a talkative mood after what had happened.

[hr]
“Cut off your tongue.”

Belying the baffled expression on the man’s face, his body was quick to act. His hand gripped the handle of the offered knife and brought it up to his face, where he extended his tongue. Comprehension had dawned by then, and a panicked, protesting whine poured from man’s open mouth—the best he could express with his tongue hanging out like a panting dog’s.

Pithy watched with a cool expression as the tip of her knife reached past his mouth and the blade rested on the side of the pinkish muscle. She noted with an almost scholarly detachment that the man’s arm had begun to tremble, as had the offered tongue. The trembling made the blade sidle against the flesh, drawing some red.

But for a long moment, that was as far as it went.  

Pithy scowled. “Stop.”

The hand that held the knife fell to the side, and his tongue receded back past his lips, letting past fitful, gusting breaths. 

Pithy held out her hand, making her intentions clear.

The man looked up, his face pale. The moment his green eyes met her, hostility began to radiate from him in waves. He rose, his knuckles white from the strength with which he held the knife.

And he set it on Pithy’s accepting hand. The stunned visage was almost comical in its confusion. Her eye went to the knife in her hand, studying the knife’s blade. A think droplet of blood ran through its length as she looked, the edge tinged red where the man had dug it onto his tongue.

“Well? Was that it?”

Pithy looked up. He spoke clumsily, the small wound clearly causing its own share of irritation, some of the earlier bravado had returned to the man’s features. That cocky smirk filled her with loathing.

“Should’ve known you wouldn’t have the guts t—” The words were cut off when the pommel of the knife, still clutched tightly in Pithy’s hand, crashed against his mouth. The man fell to his back, clutching his face and muttering curses from behind his hand. 

The momentum brought Pithy stumbling forward, the pain in her leg flaring like a fire as she tried to steady herself. Her piercing eye found the man’s own as she did.

“That is enough,” she had told him. “I want to think you are worth more to me whole. Do not try to convince me otherwise. Watch your tongue if you wish to keep it.”

[hr]
It had been a difficult, when the man had failed to do the deed, not to drag the man’s tongue out of his mouth and cut it out herself . She had genuinely wished to see the man writhing on the ground, sobbing through the blood pouring from the severed muscle. Part of her still did.

Pithy studied her reflection on the window. Sometimes she wondered if there was anything different between the woman she was now and the envious whelp that had been cast out from her home so long ago.

[i]Truly, I have learned nothing.[/i] 

What good would that do her? A moment of dark pleasure, earned through the maiming of one she would seek to use. Her satisfaction was not worth the time and energy she would have to spend tending to such a wound, or attempting to communicate with a mute if she wished to use him as a tool. In her current state, she had little choice but to do just that.  

It was good then, that following her warning, the man’s lips had tightened considerably. She was not certain if it was due to the phylactery’s influence or her own admonishment, but she welcomed the calm. 

She had gotten his name from him, and then proceeded to treat his arm as best she could. There had been small shards of ice stuck inside the wound her rapier had made, stemming the flow of blood but causing no small discomfort. Once those had been melted and removed, red flowed freely. Her robe had been much diminished after she was done with it, looking more like a mantle than a proper cloak.

The pair had then returned to this Mountain Dew’s vehicle, and were currently driving through the streets of the Governance Hub.

“Are there limits to what you can place inside?” 

The man shrugged at her query. 

Pithy frowned. Did that mean he did not know or that he did not wish to elaborate on the matter?   

The woman glanced out the window, looking at the buildings that surrounded the street. Alternate dimensions and spatial manipulation were not unheard of in her realm, but those that could work that kind of magic were far and few inbetween. Moreover, examples that she had seen which resembled what Dew could do were typically tied to enchanted objects, such as pouches and bags that were considerably larger on the inside than they were on the outside. To have such a space available to one at their beck and call without needing a focus to act as a gate was a special skill indeed.

“Are you certain you are not a master wizard?” she asked dryly.

“I’m neither thirty nor a virgin, so no.”

Pithy was about to turn to ask him what that had to do with her question, when a sign caught her eye. “Here.”

The thrumming sound came to a stop as the vehicle halted by the sidewalk. The sign reading [i]Theo’s[/i] on the large window was as visible as when Pithy had found it earlier that day. Moments later, bells rang as Pithy pushed the door open, clumsily pushing forward into the building with the use of one leg and her cane.

She glanced behind her to see Dew filing in, eyes roaming over the place suspiciously. ‘Why are we here?’ they seemed to ask. By the way his jaw bunched, she thought he [i]wanted[/i] to ask.

“Look around the front. Call me if you find something I should see.” Her gaze wandered over the counter. “And grab some food while you’re at it. I don’t know how long we’ll be staying in this city.”

He frowned in distaste. “Just grab random food to clutter my inventory? I don’t feel like cleaning apple pie from my ammo.”

She looked at him crossly. [i]And what do I care about that?[/i] “Then use a table cloth to wrap it. Work it out on your own.” She shrugged and turned, unwilling to put more thought into it. “I will look further inside.”

Grumbling arose from behind her, but she paid no mind, leaving him to his own tasks.

A door behind the counter led her to the diner’s kitchen—or at least what she assumed to be the kitchen. There were more white tiles and metal surfaces than she was used to, but the utensils arrayed on the tables and drawers, as well as the multiple oven-like cubes made the room’s purpose clear. Finding little use for forks and kitchen knives, her inspection took her elsewhere, cane tapping past the door to the pantry and into a small lounging area off in a side room.

She navigated with some difficulty between a large sofa that occupied the majority of the room and a small round table she imagined people would use to rest drinks or plates of food while they sat. Opposite to it was a large box with a glass pane, similar to the ones she had found in the Justice Hub. However, this one lacked the button board she had seen before, so she opted to ignore it, going instead for a closet on the far end of the room.

Inside, she found several aprons, as well as some scattered clothes. It was mostly skirts and puffy, yellowish shirts, the kind a waitress might wear, but she also spied black pants and vests hidden near the back. Pithy glanced down at her leggings, noting the red that covered them as well as the tear in the fabric over her thigh, and took one of the pieces of clothing.

“Elsa!” She heard then.

She swore under her breath, turning to squeeze her way out of the room with her prize in hand.

“Eeeelsaaaa! Hurry and come hereee! Shouting like this hurts like a bitch!”

“Then quit being so loud!” she hissed as she limped her way back to the front of the diner.  She found the man sitting at one of the tables near the counter. “And quit calling me that.”

“What do I call you, then?”

“Pithy, if you must call me anything.”

“That’s a dumb name,” he answered petulantly.

[i]Thus spake Mountain Dew the Quickscoper.[/i] “We are not having this conversation,” Pithy grunted, bunching her jaw. “Why did you call me?”

The man rapped his knuckles on an object sitting on the table, drawing her attention to it. It was a case, with a symbol of a red cross on it. 

Giving him a searching glance, Pithy reached for the case and opened it. Seeing the contents, she sucked a breath and rifled through the contents. Clean bandages and gauze were the things that drew her eyes first, but she took note of the small plastic bottles held within when Dew reached inside and snatched one of the containers.

He put it to his mouth, twisted the cap with his teeth and spat it into the box before throwing it back like a flagon of ale.

Pithy rushed to snatch it away from him, fearing that her thrall was trying to off himself with poison. He relinquished the bottle with no resistance, looking at her with a contented smile.

Pithy eyed him warily for a moment, but when he did not collapse and blood refused to suddenly leak from his orifices, she asked, “What is in this bottle?”

“Painkillers,” he offered dreamily.

Pithy frowned and glanced at the bottle. It read ‘Ibuprofen’ in large letters, with a list of effects and instructions in smaller letters. [i]I don’t imagine ‘muscular pain’ would include cut wounds,[/i] she reflected. Not to mention the slew of possible side effects listed. As surprisingly well-documented as this was, the idea of ingesting it felt rather daunting. She would have to wait and see the condition of her thrall after some time. She had not seen the dosage the man had taken just then either, but she suspected it had been more than the one pill recommended every six hours. He had recognized the bottle on sight, but it was possible that the physiology of the ones who used these pills was completely unlike hers. 

Grimacing, she closed the bottle and placed it back in the case. The ache in her wound throbbed almost accusingly.

“Bring this with us,” she told Dew. “And go wait by the vehicle—”

“Car.”

“Wait,” Pithy said slowly, “outside.”

The man rose one arm in a gesture of surrender, and turned to leave the building. Pithy’s gaze remained fixed on his back until the bells rang, signaling his exit. Then, she turned to the clothing she had brought.

Over a dozen minutes went by before the elf limped out of the building wearing the dark cloth pants. Small, dark stains were beginning to mat the back of the fabric. At the very least they were harder to see in this attire. 

Mountain Dew, who had been leaning against the Rover with his arms crossed roused himself as she came out. “What took you so long?” he asked, impatiently.

The man had grown steadily more vocal in the past hour. Pithy considered making another incision inside his mouth if he proved too irritating.

Pithy gave him an incensed look. “Have a guess,” she said. It was because of him that she was having so much trouble moving her right leg. Fitting those pants on had been nothing short of agony, and she was certain that if the blood had managed to coagulate at all, the cut had opened again mid-stretch. “On second thought, I don’t need to hear it. Just get in.”

The man grunted, then moved to take his place inside the car. Pithy followed moments later. When she sat, she let a cube of ice, about the size of her head, fall on the seat beside her.

Pithy noted the man’s regard from the mirror ahead. “Where’s your phylactery?” 

She tapped the large ice cube. It was a thick box, in truth, completely sealing the badger and her phylactery—since Dew’s own had been left behind at the art gallery—while allowing hers to continue beating. If whatever enchantment allowed Oren to hear their conversations from the artifact originated from within it, he would be hard pressed to listen in. If it worked through different means... well, she could do little about it in that case, meaning it did not bear thinking about.

“Have you seen an out of place tower in this part of the city?”

The answer did not take long to come. “Sure did.” Good, that made things simple. “Why? Oren told you to go there?”

“Yes.” Pithy nodded. That was true enough, and it might have been all that she needed to say. However, if she wished to make use of Dew, it could not be all the information she gave him. “Oren is supposed to be overseeing this tournament from there.”

She felt the man’s steady gaze from the mirror hanging from the front of the vehicle. “You’ll [i]have a word[/i] with him?”

“We had words.” Pithy found herself scowling. “I did not much like his.”

The man let out a humming sound, seeming to consider this. After a moment, he clapped a hand against the wheel, letting out a chuckle. 

Pithy gave him a disgruntled look.

“Now, now,” he said placatingly. “Look here, lady. I’m clearly out of the running for this shit, so if you want to go off the rails and ruin any chance you might have at getting something out of this tournament, I’m not gonna get in the way. Hell, if you plan to screw yourself over, [i]that[/i] I wouldn’t mind helping with.”

For some reason, Pithy felt cold creeping up her spine. Irreverent as the words were, they gave her a dark premonition. His acceptance of what he thought to be her plan made her all the more uncomfortable. “It won’t end that way,” she breathed.

“’Course not,” Dew said with blatant sarcasm.

“Just get us there.”

Pithy leaned back against her seat as the man clicked his tongue and started the wheeled contraption.

Aided by the moving vehicle, the trek did not last long even when taking pains to avoid the area’s more flooded streets, and soon enough Pithy knew what Oren had meant when he had told her she couldn’t miss the tower. 

Contrasting heavily with the sleek, glass surfaces that seemed to cover many of the nearby buildings, the tower Oren had referred to. The tower, circular and made almost entirely of stone, reminded her heavily of the watchtowers and castle turrets one might see near the human settlements of her realm.

“There it is,” Dew announced. “There’s an Echo if I ever saw one.”

Pithy nodded absently, reaching for the cube still holding her phylactery. The ice disappeared as she waved a hand over it, and she returned the heart mimicries back to their place on her person. Once the task was done, she shimmied her way out of the car.

Dew was already outside, waiting for her. “Behold!” He waved his uninjured arm at the scenery, as though he was a magician presenting the tools for his next magic trick. For all of that, he still looked to her. “So? What now?”

She clicked her tongue. Looking at the tower, she would have been genuinely surprised if Oren was anywhere other than in the top level, but that left a lot of climbing to be done. She could already see a few entrances to the building from their current position on the streets, but she was not particularly eager to start the trek. Rather, there was something she wished to test beforehand.

“I want you to scout the perimeter” she told him. “Tell me about any other entrances, or things you find suspicious. And try not to be seen by college staff.” Which was a moot point either way. They would know they were about if Oren but deigned to listen in now. That was not the point.

The man did not seem to realize this, drooping his shoulders instead. “A stealth mission? Ugh, you suck.”

“Your complaints have been noted,” she said wryly. Then, after another cursory glance at the building, she beckoned him closer. 

The man complied, listened for a moment to her whispered words, and retreated, a frown in his face. “Whatever,” he said, turning to walk away. He had only taken a few steps when he suddenly vanished.

Pithy sighed and leaned back against the vehicle, crossing her arms. The tower of the Governance Hub stood before her like a stalwart guardian.