65 - See What You See Not

  The seer’s eyes gaped wide at the sight of the black rose. Even with the alien cast of her features, Joe could read a deep hunger in the pained expression that fell over the naga’s face. He tried not to grin and piss her off, even though he knew he had her.

  “Two. There were no visionsss of two Marked Ones before,” she hissed, coiling her body in such a way as to seem to shrink in on herself. “Everything could change.”

  ‘True and true,’ Joe detected.

  “Exactly,” he concurred out loud. “This could be something you may never see again.”

  She rounded at his voice. “But no. I cannot sssee it now.” Unfurling, the naga prophet loomed over him, her head practically touching the ceiling of the grotto. “If you are cloaked from my sssight, why should I aid you?”

  “Um. Wouldn’t you be able to see events from the killer’s perspective?”

  “Unacceptable,” she hissed. “ It would be asss if attending a play with my earsss plugged. I would only underssstand sssnippetsss but the true picture would essssscape my underssstanding. I would rather sssee the Moonlight Ssslayer complete hisss destiny than a muddled fraction of you and him in conflict.”

  “What if you could track someone with me? Would that do it?”

  “No. There isss but one way I will make thisss accord. You mussst allow me a window into your future asss well. A few dropsss of blood or a lock of hair, willingly given, should do it.”

  Alarm bells rang out in Joe’s head at her words. There were countless references in books and games where horrible things could be done if a spellcaster gained access to some of your body. Like making a wish on a monkey’s paw, it always went very badly for the victims.

  Just as Joe was about to reply with ‘Hell no!’, a small practical voice in the back of his head countered with, ‘What other option do you have?’

  That idea stopped him cold. Even as anxious as that tiny voice was about giving the serpentine oracle access to his essence, it did have a very valid point. Mazsy and Jink had been pretty clear that this ancient being was his best option. Maybe now his only option. Once the Wellwatcher became aware of him, he could see her blocking others if she was excluded from her ringside seat through his blood or hair.

  ‘Maybe the rules here are different.’ he wondered.

  Joe was not going to blindly make himself vulnerable without at least trying to get some confirmation. While the serpentinite oracle impatiently waited, Joe ignored her and reached out to Hawking.

  ‘Hey? What does willingly giving blood or hair allow someone to do to you?’

  ‘Could she use it to cast other spells on me too?’

  ‘I guess that is something. Still, she could infect me with some sort of Zombie Rot spell, and even if the sample rotted away, I would still be screwed if the rot had already taken hold of me.’

  ‘Is there another way around my [No One] ability that has less dire consequences?’

  ‘Such as?’ Joe waited a few seconds and realized that Hawking was not going to answer. Explaining the rules was one thing, but Hawking had been pretty clear lately regarding his stance on giving out free lore.

  When he refocused on the room again, Joe noticed the Naga was staring quizzically at him. He felt his face heat up a little, realizing he had blanked out longer than he intended to.

  “Sorry about that. I had to really think that through. What kind of guarantees will I have that you will not use my blood or hair to harm me or give it to someone else who might?”

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  “I have what you need, Changebringer. There will be no negotiationsss.”

  That last sentence carried with it a new note. It was not a clear bell toll of truth. Instead, a sharp metal-on-metal scraping told Joe she was lying. She wanted this as badly as Joe did, maybe more. There was wiggle room here.

  “I can block you from seeing potentially a once-in-a-lifetime occurrence. And in your case, that is no idle span of time. I think there is room to negotiate here. Swear an oath that you will not use my sample to bring me harm.”

  “And jussst who would you have me ssswear thisss oath to?” she fumed, crossing her arms over her chest.

  “How about Onhur?” Joe posed. “He is the god of oaths and truth, right? I’m pretty sure you don’t want your visions to start filling up with bullshit. My guess is he is not a god you’d want to break your promise to.”

  The Wellwatcher leveled a look at Joe like she was chewing on lemons. Practically spitting, the next words seemed like they were forced out of her throat. “Very well sssign-bearer, I will make the vow. I sssswear by Onhur that I will not ussse your sssample to caussse you any harm.”

  She spoke truthfully but Joe had watched too many players make djinni wishes that went completely afoul because of careless wording. He was going to make sure he closed as many loopholes as possible with this one.

  “You’ll have to do better than that, Madam. Do you swear that you will not allow the blood or hair I give to be used to do me harm?”

  “You are jussst trying to muddy the waterssss, boy. I have made my oath, and I ssstand by it.”

  “And what in your oath stops you from selling it to someone else who could use it against me?” Joe entreated, spreading his arms wide.

  “You did not give it to another willingly. You are giving it to me. The power it holdsss over you would not work in sssomeone elssse’s handsss,” she hissed annoyedly.

  Behind the seething words was a clear ringing note. She wasn’t lying. It was also good to know that he didn't have to worry about witches stealing his blood from a battle site. 'Given' was the key word.

  Joe was glad he had [Crystal Mind] going. Normally he would have gotten lost in his own head trying to hold this conversation and listening to [Ring of Truth] at the same time.

  “Hadn’t thought of it that way,” Joe muttered. “Then I am only giving this to you for the next three days. You will burn it after the third full moon. Beyond that, we can negotiate again.”

  “Very well. Now give me what I asssk for or leave, manling. You will get no further dealsss from me.”

  “Okay, I accept your oath,” Joe stated, trying to sound more confident than he felt. He drew the goblin knife off his belt and sliced off a curl of hair.

  “We have an accord then,” the golden-scaled seer asserted as she slid up to him. Taking the cut curl, the seer bound the lock with a thread she plucked from her robe. “Asssk me your question, Changebringer.”

  Joe was about to just pose the basic ‘Where will the Night Skinner be tonight?’ but his [Crystal Mind] stopped him. This question needed to be asked correctly.

  He started constructing the foolproof djinni-wish style phrasing, a query that left no loopholes, but he could tell that was not the problem. There was something missing.

  ‘Oh duh!’

  “By the power invested in the quest from the One Above, tell me where Night Skinner will perform his killings and the rituals over the next three nights?” It wasn't perfect but the biggest requirement was met, invoking the name of the Giver of Quests.

  “Very well. Thisss way,” the serpentine diviner hissed, slithering to one of the larger pools. Joe could see indistinct shapes and figures in the water, but nothing clearly. The sights in the pool were faded and blurry. The naga waved her hand over the surface and even those faint images faded away. The pool became still and empty.

  Clutching his hair in her left hand, the Wellwatcher held her right over the basin. Snapping her middle finger closed quickly, the long hooked nail pierced her palm, releasing a few drops of blood. As the ruby drips splashed into the water, the air around Joe grew hot, heavy, and sodden with moisture. It was as if he had just been chucked into a sauna or a deep tropical jungle. Joe was leaning toward the second one. Scents of earth and sea filled the air, along with something else that made his skin crawl: blood. The smell of blood redoubled again and again until it overpowered everything else.

  Just as Joe thought he might gag from the charnal reek, the naga spoke.

  “First know thisss. The Night Ssskinner will never face the city’sss militia. Should you enlissst them, or any other such force, you will never find the prey you ssseek. Should you bring anyone untethered by your quessst, the Ssskinner will not be where I sssay. It can only be you and those directly enjoined into your quessst. Do you underssstand?”

  “I do. Just me and the four champions,” Joe answered, hearing truth in her words. “Where do I have to go?” he asked.

  “I will ssspeak only of the firssst night of the moon tomorrow. Should you fail in thisss encounter with the Fearmonger, come back, and we will ssseek again among the watersss.

  “On the northern edge of the city isss the old tower of Vhyne, the God of Grapesss and Wine. It isss here that Sssougath the Night Skinner will perform his firssst ritual of thisss month. You must arrive after sssunssset but before the first ringing of the midnight bellsss. That isss your window.”

  Joe was not thrilled about the idea of letting the murderer start his blood ceremony, but the spell of Onhur affirmed she was not lying. Saving the victim once the killer had started the sacrifice seemed like a pretty tall order.

  Still, Madam Zanthiss had truthfully given him a time and place. He had more than anyone hunting the Night Skinner ever had. She had also given him the monster’s name: Sougath.

  “Thank you, Madam,” Joe offered. “You have been …”

  “I need not your platitudessss. Only your destiny concernsss me. Now go. I have much to witnessss tomorrow. I need to cleanssse myself of your influenccce.”

  Without looking back, she let her robe drop to the ground and slid into the waters she had emerged from. Joe stared at the rippling surface of the pool for a moment, a bit shocked at her immediate departure.

  After a few seconds, he shrugged and turned back to the grotto entrance, a small sense of pride warming his chest. He now had a path leading toward getting him out from under the mess that had been stalking him since arriving in Illuminaria. While, unfortunately, that path included Azbekt, at least it also included Hah’roo. And Count Valloc. With those two in his corner, maybe they would temper the worst of the bully's tirades.

  Whistling, Joe started back up the long climb to the surface, though he still kept a sharp eye out for webs and legs as he made the ascent.