Troper Critique Club

“Why ask about my youth?” Itou asked. “Haven’t you had your share of sadness?”

“Everyone here has. Trapped in a sinkhole that absorbs every effort and remains unchanged. Just like you when you attempt to change the subject. Now, I hope that you will answer my question.”

“I suppose that’s what I deserve for trying to make someone with perfect recall forget what I talked about. It’s not a fun story, not even to mercenaries. Not even to the dead.”

I shrugged. “I do not ask for entertainment. I ask for truth.”

“The truth is the worst part of it. What part of my youth do you want to hear about?” Itou asked. “When I almost starved to death at the tender age of eight? Or when I killed a boy the same age I was at fifteen? I did it with a piece of rebar, not even a knife. Is that the sort of story you love?” She was glaring at me, and I merely leaned back, hands folded.

“Whatever you wish to tell me of, Miss Itou. Nothing, if you wish to keep me distant. I am, after all, a polite man and do not wish to impose.”

“And yet I know that you’ll get what you want.” She sighed. “Let me tell about my teenage years. That’s always good for a laugh.” The bright afternoon sun hovered above us, casting golden light over her right arm, picking out the details on the tawny cast of her skin. I shivered; this brought back many old memories, best left in coffins, unheeding of daylight.

“Where to start? Many of us street folk don’t have anything to our names, so we band together. And these groups are called gangs by some.” A wry smile flashed across her lips. “We bled for business, or for a few symbols; that sort of youthful passion is good for our brawls.”

“How did you fight?” I asked.

“Alleyways. It took fewer guys to keep the loser from running. You grabbed whatever was on the ground, or just beat each other until both were covered in blood and one wasn’t moving anymore. It was a simple system. And we thought it was fun.”

I refrained from noting the similarity to Holz’s pilgrimage and let her go on. “I’ll be the first to admit that I enjoyed it,” she said. “I suppose it was because of my skill; no one had to force me into the ring, not when I was the best. Not unlike some others.”

“Such as?” I asked.

“The computer criminals. They’re the ones I spent most of my free time with; it was a nice change of pace from the ring, back then. To tell you the truth, you remind me of the one I talked to. James. Quiet, not very assertive, hard to converse with sometimes. But he wasn’t a soldier.”

“A stable man, in short.” I had expected Itou to fall for the best fighter or one of their killers; so much for my judgment of character. “Yeah. I won’t describe you too much of how we fell in love.” She looked down, closing her eyes for a moment. “It’s not for your sake, Gant.”

“I do not mind. There are memories that no one requires.”

“Thanks for being understanding, Gant, but you haven’t heard the entire story. You might not have the same sympathy for me when I finish.” She took a few breaths and continued. “Our leader found out that James was stealing from him. He wanted to have an example made of him.”

“He sent him into the ring.” I wanted to help her. Take some of that pain for myself, even though I had often given the last grace to my own friends. It was not mere guilt that haunted us, it was separation and anger at those who gave us such orders.

“Yes,” she said quietly. “Five of us drew lots to see who would have the honor of doing it. And the worst thing was that I simply bowed and did it. I didn’t try to help him run, I didn’t try to reason with our leader. I simply walked into the ring.”

I could say no more to comfort her; I would have done the same. In the second-long pause, I watched her shift out of the light, deeper under the awning. Both of us sat in the shadow now, not even touched by the comfort of light.

“They gave him a knife to balance the odds, show our power when I killed him. When it all started, I picked up a piece or rebar and threw it at him. I hoped to knock him out, save myself from having to kill him. But my hand slipped, and I struck him squarely in the throat.” She was clenching her hand over her wrist, gouging deep and pale marks. “I watched him die. Coughing up blood, looking me in the eye. And I did nothing.”

Now her nails dug into her skin, droplets of crimson rolling gently down her arm. “And the worst of it was how our leader reacted. I could have handled gloating. But he was… sad. Didn’t say a word, just turned around and left with his head bowed; there was no speech, no recognition of what we did. I think he was praying.”

“I see.”

Itou looked down at her hand and let go, leaving a bloody handprint. “You must think I’m weak for still worrying so much over things like that. The past, the past, the past. How I envy Holz and you; nothing bogs you down when it comes time to fight.”

“You jest,” I replied. “Your resilience is fascinating, Itou, one of your many points of attraction. I have had centuries to batter myself back to humanity; Holz took forty years to control his mind once more. But you… no, you constructed yourself once more. Look around you and see how weak others are, and I think you will find that you possess a newfound beauty.”

“Waitwaitwait!” the creature yelped. “Don’t! I can help you!”

Suzanna raised her sword over it and swung. It scrabbled backwards through the leaves, and her swing missed by an inch.

“I can help you!” it cried. “Don’t kill me!”

“Yeah, right,” Suzanna said, disgusted. She raised the sword again.

“Suzanna!” Tristan said, horrified, from behind her. She heard his footsteps.

“What?” Suzanna said irritably, without turning around. The goblin tried to inch away, and she put a foot on its ankle reflexively.

“Stop it! You can’t stick your sword through a person who’s begging for their life!” Tristan said.

“Why not?”

“Because... because it just isn’t right!” Tristan said. “He’s helpless.”

“Yeah, I am!” the goblin said breathlessly. “Helpless. Don’t kill me. I can help you! You need my help!”

“What’s going on over there?” Del shouted after them. “I haven’t a clue what either of you are talking about. What’s Suzanna trying to stab?”

“Wait, Zan,” Tristan said. He came up to stand beside Suzanna, and put a hand on her sword arm, pushing it down. He gazed down at the prostrate forest creature, and Suzanna did the same. Its clothes blended in with the brown leaf litter, and its skin was the same grubby greyish green as the fungus that crusted the nearby tree trunks. “How can you help us?”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Tristan,” Suzanna said exasperatedly. “It can’t help us. It’s just saying it can so we’ll let it go.”

“You never know,” Tristan said. “Maybe it can.”

“I can! I can!” the creature promised. “I – I can show you the way through the forest! Anywhere you need to get to, I can take you there!” Its ankle moved under Suzanna’s foot as it tried to worm out from under it. Suzanna laid her sword near its tiny pointed nose, and it lay still, gazing up at her with cat-pupilled eyes.

“Hey!” Tristan said, turning to her. He smiled. “A guide! That’ll make our lives a lot easier!”

Suzanna sighed. “Tris, you’ve got to be kidding me,” she said. “It’s lying. Del, tell Tristan he’s being an idiot.”

“You’re an idiot, Tristan.” Del limped up behind her. “Now, what’s going on?”

“This goblin says he can lead us through the forest,” Tristan said.

Del snorted. “Don’t be stupid, Tristan. Let Suzanna kill it and let’s be on our way.”

“No!” The goblin cried. “Don’t! You’ll regret it if you do, you need a guide to get through the forest.” It licked its lips in a quick, nervous way, eyes darting between the three of them. “You’ll never get through without me. You need me.”

“See?” Suzanna said. “It’s lying to us. It’ll say anything to save its scrawny neck.”

“He’s trying to save his life, yes,” Tristan said. “But that doesn’t prove he’s lying. It stands to reason that he could lead us through the forest, he lives in it, doesn’t he?”

“True,” Del said impatiently. His face turned unerringly towards Tristan, which was a little disconcerting, because the place where his eyes should have been was covered in a clean cloth band. “He possibly does know the way. But that’s no guarantee that he’ll show us.”

Tristan looked stubborn. “It’s a possibility. If it’ll save us months of battling through wilderness, I think we should at least consider the idea. And besides – Zan, are you really going to stick that sword in his eye right now? Can you?”

Suzanna looked down. The goblin looked up at her. Its scrawny chest moved up and down rapidly, and it flinched at Tristan’s words and closed its eyes as if that could stop her.

Suzanna swallowed. “’Course I can,” she said casually. “I’ve just killed two of its nasty little friends, haven’t I?”

“Really?” Tristan said, raising one eyebrow.

Del gave a short bark of laughter. “Yes, healer, really. Not everyone holds your oh-so-high-and-mighty moral principles, you know. If she won’t, I will.”

“You’ll do nothing of the sort, Del,” Suzanna snapped, turning to glare at him. It was wasted, of course, because he couldn’t see it. “You are not going to go hurling fireballs around. You nearly set me on fire just then.”

“Ah, but I didn’t,” Del said. “I was aiming just fine. You were in no danger, I knew where you were.”

“My arse you did,” Suzanna said. “You-”

“We’ve discussed this,” Tristan said. “No magic. It’s too dangerous.”

Del snorted. “Right. Fine. Next time I’ll just leave you both to fight off the goblins yourself, then.” He turned and strode off. “Let me know when you’re ready to get moving again.”

There was a brief silence.

“Please,” the goblin snivelled. “I don’t wanna die. I’ll do anything you ask, anything. Please. You’re good people, you wouldn’t murder a poor helpless little creature begging for his life, would you?”

Suzanna looked down at it in disgust. “Cowardly little thing, aren’t you?”

“Come on, Suzanna,” Tristan said. “Can you seriously kill him just like that? In cold blood? I don’t think you have it in you.”

“Sure I do,” Suzanna said. “It’s just a goblin, Tris.” She raised the sword again.

“Ohpleaseohpleaseohplease...” The goblin covered his eyes with quaking hands. Suzanna reversed the grip in her hands to stab downward, poising the blade over his chest. On three, she thought determinedly. One, two, three...

“Oh for heaven’s sake.” Suzanna put the sword down. “You’re right, I can’t.” Lying there snivelling in the leaves, it was a pathetic sight, and the thought of killing it made her feel small and dirty and petty. This isn’t what it’s supposed to be like, she thought resentfully.

Tristan grinned. “I told you so,” he said, unbearably smugly. “So. Seeing as you can’t kill him, what are we going to do? Let him go?”

“I don’t like that idea,” Suzanna said, grimacing. “What if he comes back with a whole swarm of his friends?”

“Right,” Tristan said. “We’re trying to be low key here.”

“I wouldn’t!” the goblin said. “Promise! Cross my heart! I won’t breathe a word.”

Both of them ignored him. “So why not take him with us?” Tristan said. “What harm can it do?”

Suzanna put a hand to her forehead. “Do you even hear yourself sometimes?” she groaned. “What harm can it do. Oh dear.”

Tracing the scar that ran along his stomach, Adam Warden looked at General Scales Delta and the colorful tome that he held in his arms. Adam laid his head back onto his pillow and sighed. “I guess now’s as good a time as any, sir. I should be fine.”

“Excellent,” said the General. “Have all of your things ready in two hours. We’re preparing the spell at five o’clock.” Delta opened the tome and squinted at the page he was on. Flipping through its contents, he asked, “Do you wish to look through the tome? You might learn something.”

“No, thanks,” said Adam. “I have a feeling I wouldn’t understand any of it.”

“That is precisely what I expected you would say,” said Delta. “Read it. You will learn something, inevitably. Perhaps nothing will stick, but I wouldn’t blame you. Go ahead. Take a look.” With that, Delta handed the bright book to Adam. Adam focused on the cover, taking in its obscure inscriptions and its unfittingly delicate artistry; several circles adorned the furry fabric, forming patterns of alternating rainbow colors. Amidst the vibrant colors, he saw hundreds of tiny symbols, of which he could only recognize three. The shapes were simplistic, in hindsight, but Adam would have thought it ridiculous to attempt to memorize all of them. He did not even know what each one’s purpose could be.

Once he was no longer mesmerized by the cover of the tome, Adam opened up to the first page. It was stunning, even breathtaking, in its detail and its density. The hundreds of symbols on the cover were repeated dozens of times, and at least two-hundred new symbols could be picked out upon close inspection.

The second page was denser still. It took him two minutes just to find 347 different symbols cluttered amongst the many repeats. They were starting to become more recognizable; many of them were quite common, and the ones from the previous pages were beginning to stick in his head. His estimate of ten thousand magical letters on the page was in fact quite inaccurate; the true number was closer to seven thousand.

Adam was at first amazed at how someone could fit so many letters onto a single page of a book, and then he had an epiphany: every single one of those symbols had some sort of purpose. He simply could not wrap his brain around that fact.

A bead of sweat rolling down his temple reawakened him to reality, and he then felt his eye twitching. His head did not feel well at all. He clapped the book shut and lightly thrust it towards Delta. He could not open his eyes, for he was still processing data.

“This book . . . How?” Adam massaged his forehead. Delta took the tome from his hand and held it beneath his arm.

“Shit,” said Adam. “Last thing I needed was another headache.”

“So, what did you learn from that, Adam?”

“. . . Too much. But too little, at the same time. Sir, what did I have to gain from reading that?”

“Honestly, not much. But that was merely an aside. I am here now, as you expected, because my team of Decoders has finally compiled all of the data presented in this tome and translated it so that it can be cast.”

“How long did it take, sir?” Adam asked.

“Oh, it only took us about three months to learn what all of the symbols stood for, as well as their relevance.”

“But it’s been five months since we recovered it, sir! Why have you waited for so long?”

“Adam, you’re the only man I can assign to this particular job. You know that.”

“Why not someone else? Like you, or Travers, or Grialda?”

“I have a job that’s far too important, and you’re hardly qualified for it at this point. I have to stay in this place, in the event that our plan does not work as we expect it to. And Travers and Grialda are neither powerful enough for your job nor competent enough for mine. You know that, so why are you bugging me about it?”

“If we had taken care of this sooner, Nanaisa wouldn’t be in the state that it’s in right now.”

“It was not possible, Adam. It simply was not. The plan was not viable as a course of action until know. You know that.”

“. . . Very well,” said Adam. “I will take two hours to pack my belongings, and then I will be there.”

“Splendid. See you then. Oh, and one more thing.” Delta scratched his balding head. “Have you heard about the ruffians that have been hiding away in that abandoned lot? It’s just about the only interesting thing that’s happened in a while. Apparently they’re giving the cops quite some trouble. Well, anyway, see you later.” Delta left the room without further questioning or expositing. He left Adam slightly upset and slightly thankful at the same time. He knows that I have no valuable belongings. He has quite clearly roped me into cleaning a house. But he knows that that won’t take long. He has also given me time to wrap up loose ends. For what that’s worth.