Vale… Is Not a Vampire?

Fenne dragged me and her kids away from the gate, down one turn and then another. At first, the streets we traversed were wide, bright, and sunny. Those were nothing but blurs and shades of color to me, nothing but motes of light and dark. Most of the time it was impossible to tell if one of those bright splotches was a whitewashed wall, a ray of sunlight peeking out between the shadows, or the glare of flame casting warmth into the cold winter day.

It was debilitating, like all my first moments in a bigger city are. Then old instinct and far more familiar senses took over where my eyes were lacking. The city brimmed to life with sounds and scents, subtle shifts of temperature, and the warm pulse of the food drumming through its passages. In little middle-of-nowhere places like Birnstead I needed to feel my way forward. Not so in cities. I merely need to follow in the footsteps of my food.

We weaved through ever narrower alleys. Stone and wood became just wood. Then wood and canvas. Cobblestone streets turned into mud tracts. The sky shrank until it was nothing but a suggestion hidden behind overhangs so ratty that it was a miracle they didn’t fall straight on our heads.

And the stench. The stench. Dirt and piss and shit and prey and blood and boils and open sores and misery living on the street. It was like the hole I had crawled out of all over again but here everyone lived like that.

I hadn’t really paid attention to how Fenne and her kids were dressed. Out on the road I had been blind so all I had been able to discern was that they were garbed in simple clothes and reeked absolutely foul and it had been enough.

Now, in the perpetual darkness of these slums pressed and stacked against the walls of the city, I could see. They wore rags and scraps, patched and mended and patched all over again in a desperate attempt to keep covered and sheltered from the elements. Fenne herself was covered most sparsely of all, clothing clearly a luxury reserved for her flock of children.

And I, dressed clean and properly, had made her pay for my entry fee. I wanted to flush crimson with embarrassment. I could not because even though the real me had not noticed, the Rem I pretended to be had known exactly how they looked from the moment I had laid eyes on them on the road.

“You sure you’re alright, Rem? You’re limping more than before.”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine. Just an old injury. Walked a little too much today.” I beamed a toothless smile at Fenne. “Word for the wise, if a raki is after the sheep, don’t try and save the animals.”

Right, now I’d have to remember that lie as well.

“A raki!” Noisome-clothesline Eli cheered, as if facing down fierce beasts was the greatest thing ever. He produced a piece of wood from who-knows-where and began charging at Tam with it. “You will not fell me, foul beast, for I am Inquisitor Eli!”

A little later, Fenne held open a piece of cloth for me. “Welcome to our little place, it’s not much but…” She sighed. “Well, it’s not much.”

Fenne was right to stop at “it’s not much”. The hole she wanted me to crawl into wasn’t a home. It was half a wall, and three-quarters of a tent cobbled together from a collection of moth-infested tatters and rotting driftwood.

I scrunched up my nose and considered ditching them right there. Fenne had led me straight to the absolute worst slum in the city. It was the kind of place where someone dressed merely modestly poor like me did not survive for long. Any moment now someone would rob the very clothes from my body, or slit my throat, or take me for ransom, or cut out my organs for some purpose I did not even want to consider.

I’d… have to figure out how to not act suspect when someone inevitably drove a blade into one of my kidneys.

As if summoned by my worries, a boy barely older than Fenne, wreathed in a raven-feather-slick haze of tobacco and alcohol, ambled up behind me. From the corner of my eyes, I saw his greedy, agitated eyes measuring me before his gaze settled on Fenne. “Fenne? Who is this?”

“She’s a friend, Call,” Fenne answered in a soothing tone as she approached the boy. “Met her on the road.”

“A friend, Fenne? A friend?” The raven-feather boy gesticulated in my direction. This child pretending to be a man reacted so agitated it was clear he sought conflict. “Do you even know this person? Have you any idea how it is out there?”

“I do, Call. I just came from there. We have a guest. Please behave?” Fenne asked.

I refused to become a part of this prey’s attempt to feel important. I took a step back and inhaled deeply, suffering past the wretched stink of this squalid dump to catalog my surroundings. My right side had the fewest people likely to take this boy’s side and cut me off, so I inched that way.

“A guest?” The snack spat at the ground. “There’s vampires everywhere, Fenne. They’re here, they’re coming for us, and no one is doing anything about it. How do you know she isn’t one?”

“She’s not, Call. I know she isn’t.”

“Is she now?” The boy ignored Fenne’s pleading, moved to cut me off, and pressed himself so close to me I had to back up against the flimsy drape of cloth that served as their door. “Prove it, girl. Show me your teeth.” The boy sneered at me. “Just a simple test, that’s all. Show me you’re not hiding fangs behind those lips. If you’re not one of them then you’ve got nothing to fear.”

The filthy excuse for a human thought he could crowd me, so I pulled him even closer and snarled right back at him. “Give me your hand!” Not giving him the time to process, I grabbed his wrist and wrested his hand up in front of my face.

He tried to wrench free, a weak pull that did not use his full strength. Surprise flooded his scent when that didn’t even budge me. He pulled harder, a heavy yank with his full body weight behind him.

Instead of resisting, I tripped him with a foot hooked behind his heel. Then, using his own momentum to flip our positions, I slammed him against the driftwood and cloth wall. The whole rickety structure nearly collapsed from the impact.

These were his slums. His territory. But I had seen right through him. The anger and swagger he projected didn’t extend to his taste. The air of alcohol and smoke that clung to his tattered clothes did not permeate his sweat. And his first tug to free his wrist had been gentler than it should have been. He was but a juvenile imitating meanness he’d witnessed somewhere else in an attempt to intimidate.

Hah! Poor pathetic little thing, considering these slums your territory.

You’re but prey, and this perpetual dark is more my domain than it will ever be yours.

With him still reeling, I twisted his palm towards me, and then I pulled on the Atlus deep inside me. I untangled a tiny thread of the magic from my core, pushed it out, and weaved it through his hand. It was not a spellweave, it wasn’t even a proper weave at all. It was simply magic flowing through him, and as he felt it pass his flesh, I let go.

“What… what was that?” He ducked away from me, cradling his hand.

“Tonaltus,” I lied. “As your hand didn’t explode all over my face, you’re not a vampire.” I pressed even closer and glared up at him. “And since I just cast that on you, I’m not a vampire either.”

Those were bold lies, but they were backed by some measure of truth. Pushing Tonaltus through someone was a perfect way to spot vampires. Trained practitioners, like an Inquisitor, could even do it with a simple touch. Back in Birnstead, a trained mage had come by to assist in the healing of a man whose leg I’d had to amputate. I had been very careful to not let him touch me that time.

Of course I had not weaved Tonaltus but Atlus. This boy had no training in magic, so he would not be able to tell the difference. I could weave Tonaltus if I really wanted to. Doing so would be agonizing though, so I avoided it.

My lies were further supported by a common belief that vampires could not cast Tonaltus at all. Back in Birnstead, the revelation that I had used healing magic — Tonaltus based — on the amputee had nearly broken Rafe, the man in charge of the village. And that was before I had accidentally mentioned that I had once slept in a monastery, a place with a natural Tonaltus field.

There were a lot of false assumptions like this circulating about vampires. They persisted even when anyone who spent half a thought on magic theory could spot the holes in those false beliefs. Considering the panic sweeping through this city I could even understand why people so stubbornly believed in these falsehoods. Vampires turned even scarier once you realized many of the easy ways to spot and kill them could be circumvented.

I learned from Dad that there are a lot of things about vampires the Inquisition knows that the common people do not. They deliberately keep that information from the populace. And people in turn are happier not thinking it through, happier to be ignorant. The reasons were obvious, and all too apparent in this city. Mass panic. If people learned vampires could deceive everyone as easily as I had just misled this boy, there would be so much more of it.

Hi, here’s a vampire. Everything that you think keeps them away, it really doesn’t.

Yaaaay!

“You… you can do that?” The raven-feather boy stammered. With a tiny bit of force, and a hint of manipulation he’d swallowed my lies, never even having verified my teeth.

I gave him a shove and turned my back on him, flipping my hair in a gesture of ultimate haughtiness. It would have probably come over better if I hadn’t cut it short. “Word of advice: asking to see someone’s teeth in a dark and enclosed location with no way out isn’t smart. That’s their domain. What are you going to do if you find out they have fangs?”

Maybe this was breaking a little far from my Rem persona, but damn, did it feel good to put this child in his place.

“You’re not from here, are you?” The boy growled, a weird blend of defiance and admiration creeping into his voice. “Easy for you to preach to us and wave your magic about. It’s not your place going to shit. I am not backing down.” He pushed off from the wall. “They’re the gods-damned monsters invading our homes, and I am not going to let them take another inch from us.”

“Place I’m from doesn’t matter. A whole ocean didn’t stop them. No city walls will.” I let my shoulders drop, my posture slouch, and shook my head. Anything to display that I felt the same despair he felt, while still making it clear that I was not going to join a shouting match. “I’m leaving, Fenne. Thanks for the invite but… I’ve still got things to do. It was wonderful meeting you all though.”

Fenne nodded demurely, her arms wrapped protectively around her gaggle of children. “It’s alright. Hope to see you around.”

Getting into an argument with these kids’ father, or whatever the relationship was, in front of their home had not been smart. Fine, these were slum kids. They had probably seen worse. Much worse. But that didn’t mean I needed to add to their negative experiences.

The sweet-nothing honey-cake surprised me though. She harrumphed, kicked her dad in the shin, and then beamed a smile at me.

In response, I got down on one knee and opened my arms to her. Without hesitation, she barrelled into me. I never give hugs. Too dangerous. Tender little necks too close for comfort. But this was an exception. It was not me being sentimental. I simply needed more ways to track down my Uncle.

I could exhaust a lot of other options first, but if those didn’t turn up any leads then I’d have to dive into the seedier parts of the city. I did not know where to start with that. Aunt Reya might, but she probably wasn’t here yet. Fenne would have some connections at least. They were probably the worst kind of people imaginable, drunk and useless louts, but it might still be better than the complete nothing I would have to start with if I did things on my own. I really hoped it wouldn’t come to that though. Even if I never saw that slick raven-feather Call again it would be too soon.

After the hasty embrace, I patted the native girl on the head and got up. “You take care of your siblings, okay Addy?” Without waiting for a reply, I walked away from their little family.

The last I heard from behind me was Call hollering at Fenne. “Rot and ruin, Fenne. I don’t know where you found that firecracker, but I like her.”

I shuddered, then shelved all thoughts of the raven-feather annoyance, and weaved from questionable alley to dubious passage for a couple extra turns before I managed to find my way out of the worst of the slums.

Away from the perpetually miserable part of the city, the strange, anxious atmosphere once more dominated. Every third business seemed closed. Half of the little stalls looked abandoned. Most people out on the streets were restive, flighty even. Conversations were held in muted tones. Children sat quietly together as if they had just been reprimanded into timidity instead of playing. Even the shouts of stall owners advertising their wares seemed lesser, somehow.

Tense city guards loitered on every other thoroughfare, projecting an air of grim unapproachability. Teams of three Inquisitors each roamed the streets. It was an impressive display of might that only made the city feel even less safe to be in. So far, no one seemed to recognize me from the wanted posters. My disguise would hopefully hold up if I did not draw attention to myself.

I found a place to stay the night. Then I found another place when the owner of the first one asked to see my teeth. I hoped that wasn’t going to be a common occurrence. It would become suspicious if I had to keep finding excuses and ways around these requests.

With the basket and most of my other travel props left in a cheap, shared room, I dove into the nervously empty streets once more. “I’m looking for something for the midwinter feast,” I asked the first reputable clothier I still found open. I had to try three more places before I found one that offered fancier dresses from stock instead of offering to tailor them, and that did not insist on measuring the fit right then and there and have me come back for it the next day.

The woman I bought from was affronted that I took the blandest thing she had on offer. I did not care. I wasn’t really looking for an actual midwinter feast dress, but merely an outfit that looked fancy enough that I could walk around in the wealthier parts of town without everyone wondering what the farmgirl was doing there. And no, the woman had not heard about a master Hadrian.

A quick trip to the inn to change into my new dress — thankfully no one of my roommates was present to see me change — and I was off again. Properly outfitted, slipping into the wealthier merchant districts of the capital was a matter of measuring on the haughty, self-assured expression of a servant running an important errand for their master.

Tormund was the very heart of Thysa. Anyone who held any kind of power in this country, from the highest nobles to the titled lords who held a seat on the Regency Council, lived here. Even staying away from the grand stone mansions, the walled estates, the prestigious monuments, the palaces; and the Academy district, I could still learn so much.

The rumors told me the arrival of the Osteans had essentially shut down the harbor. Ungrateful laborers had abandoned their work and were organizing protests. No one was doing enough to kick the vampire delegation out: city guard too busy harassing people, Inquisitors parading the streets instead of doing their job. And of course everyone accused everyone else of colluding with the vampires; it was all the fault of the homeless, some rival noble or faction, the Academy because no one trusts a scholar, the entire regency council, the Hatresans and the Abernese since they weren’t sending enough of their own Inquisitors to Ostea.

And the most startling rumor of all: the useless brother of the great Lord Sung had received an unearned promotion and was now the Inquisitor tasked with the protection of the Ostean Grand-Inquisitor. This ‘useless brother’ could only be the Ereldin Sung who had been my jailor.

And not a word about a fugitive girl or a rogue vampire in the countryside. Maybe this meant the Inquisition really was too preoccupied with the whole mess here. Maybe I was no longer a priority. I could only hope.

Meanwhile; I tried yet another store, this one squeezed in between two stately buildings. “Kind sir, my father has asked me to pick something up from a merchant, but I fear I may have misremembered his directions. Could you perhaps point the way to master Hadrian?”

Seven tries, seven failures. I had been convinced it was simply a matter of asking around, but I was slowly beginning to despair. All I had was a name, and if that did not get me anything, then I could only hope that Uncle Hadrian hadn’t also lied about where he lived. Or maybe he’d done worse and even used a fake name with us.

Yes, I was making myself mighty suspicious with all these questions. And while all of them had been to different people having nothing to do with each other, it would probably only be a matter of time before word got out that I was asking weird questions and someone began stringing things together. None of that mattered, as long as I remained one step ahead.

If there was one thing I had learned from my time hunting monsters, it is that once confusion and panic sets in, you strike fast and hard. And here, for once, I did not even need to create that panic first. The arrival of the vampire representatives had already done that for me. The city might not be my usual hunting grounds — it was decidedly Aunt Reya’s, considering her past — but at least these basic principles still carried over from the wilderness.

The next man I asked, one of the few stall-holders that had not yet finished packing up for the day, gave me a very suspicious stare. “Hadrian? Isn’t he the spice merchant from Dergrave? The one that got picked up by the Inquisition? Nasty mess. Had never expected him of all people to be involved with the vamps.”

“Spices? No no no, I’m here for an elogi,” I deflected hastily. “Musical instrument? Imported from Hatreso?”

Divine’s dung, this was going to come back to bite me. He had been arrested, and I had been asking all over for him. What was I thinking? That I was ahead of the Inquisition? They knew as much as I did. And while I had been running all over the countryside to shake pursuers, Sung had probably come straight here. No, he didn’t even need to travel here to initiate the investigation. He could have sent a bird with instructions. Capturing my Uncle had probably gotten him that promotion.

I needed to get off the street. I needed a plan. I had to get to Dergrave. I needed to check if Aunt Reya and Dad had arrived. I needed to think. I needed to check out the docks and figure out why the entire harbor had shut down. But most of all I needed to stop panicking, so I reoriented and changed direction towards the harbor to do that last thing.

I ran into a barricade, manned by angry-looking guards and everything, so I took the next street. Another barricade. The docks were blocked. All of the docks were blocked and the people ensuring it stayed that way were giving me the most suspicious of glances, their fear plain to taste in the empty night air.

Empty.

Night.

Sard!

This was winter. Barely evening and the sun was already down. The streets deserted because vampires were out in the dark and everyone was gods damned fearing for their life. And here I was, alone, in the dark, still out and about, completely oblivious to that because I did not fear vampires like everyone else did.

Aaaah… get your head in the game, Vale!

Could I be any more suspicious?

I ducked into an alley, and then another. Darker. Narrower. Danker. The slums. The city wall. Sard it, I was already screwed and I was out of time. The rickety plating that served as the side of a shack presented a convenient foothold. A low roof was a running leap away. From there I bounded to another higher roof right next to the city walls. Tearing my gloves and boots off, I dug my claws into stone, scaling the imposing fortifications as effortlessly as walking.

A shout. Someone, somewhere noticed me. They were too late. I was up and over before anyone could mount a response. I hit the ground on the other side of the wall with a roll, and then I was gone, hidden in another dark and cloudy night.

Dergrave. If my vague understanding of the surroundings was right, that town was only a little under three hours away by foot. A person running the entire distance could probably do it in a little over one hour. I was not human. I did not tire. I’d manage in less than half that.

I had to know, before word of my presence could reach the Inquisition.

I ran.