The Nameless Assassins

Alternative Medicine

After the cabbie dropped us off, we wended through the Old Rail Yard with arms linked for support, Ash sandwiched between Faith and me. As we hobbled past one of Cortland's lairs, Faith merrily flapped her free hand at a Lost runner, a young girl playing hopscotch seemingly idly along the rusty tracks. "Do be a dear and go to the Leaky Bucket and invite Sawbones to stay at our place for a few days, will you?" Without bothering to check if the runner obeyed, she remonstrated with Ash, "See? This is what happens when you don't dodge the bullets! We have to host houseguests at the last minute!"

Having regained some modicum of coherence, Ash retorted, "No, I was electrocuted by your crazy – what exactly electrocuted me? I don't remember."

Faith nearly dropped him in shock. I hissed when the unexpected movement jostled my bad arm, and she unapologetically returned to formation. "You mean my lightning hook?" she gasped.

"Yes!"

"Those things are dangerous!"

"I am well aware of that situation!"

Helping him up the steps of our railcar, she reassured him condescendingly, "You'll get better at it eventually." He snorted and rolled his eyeballs (or maybe that was another convulsion). "But think not that I failed to notice your noble rescue. You have redeemed yourself as a daring, dashing adventurer, my knight in shining armor."

In response, Ash flung open the door so hard that he nearly triggered one of my traps. It took him four tries, but eventually he managed to find the switch and fumble on the lights.

"Although – does armor shine in Doskvol?" asked Faith with exaggerated consternation, stopping right smack in the middle of the doorway. "It's so grimy and grey here...."

I elbowed her out of the way so I could enter. While she struck a calculatedly contemplative pose, I hauled a chair over to the table, sank into it, and gingerly laid my broken arm on the table. From the tightness of the sleeve, I could tell that it had already swollen up, and I ran an experimental finger under the cuff, trying to determine if we'd have to cut off my shirt.

Ash's voice interrupted my examination. "Are we supposed to hate the Hadrakin?" he mused, pacing back and forth like a jerky puppet. When I glanced up at him, I nearly yelped: His whole face was covered in red, blistering, oozing burns going black at the edges. He, blissfully, did not seem to be well aware of that situation. "They seemed to be here because they were afraid we'd invade them."

"Totally unjustified," interjected Faith. She straightened the bow on her chair and stepped back to critique the effect. "I mean, our crew is good, but I'm not sure we're good enough to take on an entire vassal nation."

Ash ignored her, although that might have been because his entire body spasmed for a good half minute. "In any case," he continued when he could speak again, "those battle plans would be interesting. I didn't see them on Ronia's body, but I guess we didn't have much time to look."

Unless I'd missed something major, that was the rumor we'd spread to lure in the Hadrakin. I objected, "I thought we made that up."

His chagrin provided all the confirmation I needed.

Faith, naturally, couldn't resist rubbing metaphorical salt into very real physical wounds. "I'm sorry, young disciple," she lectured, wagging a finger at him, "but once you start believing your own lies, you're but a step away from a slow and inevitable descent into madness and despair."