Chapter Three: Part of What They're Doing

Ashilis set out from the cell with his mind racing. He wasn't sure what he thought of Bellavie. She was certainly novel, though that was an abysmally low bar when one didn't have any reference for normality. Ashilis had seen a wide variety of people in his few hours of experience. Some, like Drym, had lines or flakes of metal visible in their skin, which itself came in a variety of colors. Others, like the guard that dumped him into the Harum-Scarum, had crystals growing from their body.

He saw many such features even as he made the short walk over to the cooking plates. A man with what appeared to be an organic circlet made of crystals flipped his morogrib over on the heated metal while a woman with deep purple skin that bordered on black stood protectively beside him. Another woman with copper lines running down her arms watched them with outright hostility. A third figure, slumped in a corner, was missing an arm, and the stump was encased in what appeared to be molten silver. Had these people had all been born that way, or did some part of the Vicart's memory-draining process change them? Ashilis himself didn't seem particularly special. He could notice tiny flecks of gold in his skin if he looked beneath the grime, but there wasn't anything dramatic.

Bellavie was dramatic. She had red gemstone horns that spiked and zig-zagged into a vague S shape and silvery hair that shined like actual metal in the light, and the skin of her arms and legs appeared to have a thin layer of red crystal coating them from the bicep and mid-thigh down. Beyond her appearance, Bellavie stood out starkly from the other prisoners. She smiled a lot, which he hadn't seen anyone else do. Even when Drym had laughed at him, it had been more of a bark than true mirth. She also seemed to like talking, where Drym had given only the most curt of answers, as if he were allergic to sentences more than five words long.

Did being friendly make her trustworthy? He wanted to trust her, for a reason he couldn't pinpoint, and he supposed that he couldn't ignore her, for the same reason he had decided to believe Drym's words. He simply didn't have the luxury of turning someone away just because he didn't know enough about them. Not when he didn't even know enough about himself.

Still, something in his instincts whispered caution. She didn't seem untrustworthy, but that was only one reason not to associate with someone. The information she told him could simply be wrong, or she might have some enemies that she didn't warn him about. Bellavie herself had admitted that that people had to let you free from your chains once the Vicarts were done with you, so why had someone as friendly as her been left locked up in such an out of the way cell?

Focus, Ashilis thought forcefully. You've decided to trust her for now, and she needs to eat soon. He turned his attention to the cooking plates and the small horde of people with arms full of mushrooms surrounding them. Even though Ashilis was watching from a fair distance away, some of the prisoners in the crowd were glaring at him as if he were part of the competition. Well, he supposed that he was trying to get to the cooking plates, but he was starting to think that that wasn't the way.

One group was clearly controlling access to the plates, and Ashilis didn't have the time to be waiting in line, even if he did have something to cook. He was going to have to get creative. So, Ashilis took stock of his resources. One angry crowd of people. One evidently dangerous group hogging the plates. A few predatory sorts circling the whole area. All in all, not much.

Ashilis sat down and began to think. Everyone in the Harum-Scarum seemed to be a moment away from snapping and fighting one another. He could use that, but could he handle the consequences? If the prison descended into all-out violence, then he might get caught up in the mess and be injured. Worse, the Vicarts might send in guards to quell the rioting.

He squeezed his eyes shut and tried to imagine an alternative. Sneaking in wouldn't work with no cover and all the eyes in the area, he didn't have time to grow and cook his own food, and he had nothing worth trading. The only non-violent option he could think of was to join a gang, but he barely knew anything about any of them, and they probably wouldn't give him food right away.

The sound of numerous heavy footfalls snapped Ashilis out of his thoughts. He looked up and spotted a group of fifteen or so people marching in formation towards the cooking plates, their posture was rigid and practiced, almost like a squad of soldiers, and Ashilis could hear someone calling orders from their ranks. The common prisoners—those that didn't seem to be affiliated with any particular gang—scrambled in every direction, and the group controlling the plates snapped to attention. Their cooks started loading their roasted mushrooms into what looked like a wash basin that had been ripped out of its mountings, and most of the ones protecting them formed a ragged line facing the approaching group, leaving only a few to keep an eye on the other prisoners.

Maybe Ashilis didn't have to join these gangs to be a part of what they're doing. He circled around behind the attacking group, then settled in to wait. The soldier group came to a halt as a single unit about twenty feet from the plates.

"By the command of Captain Odol," a loud voice called from within the attacking group, "we are hereby requisitioning this supply of rations for the Patrol. Resistance will be met with due force."

"Rot take you!" One of the defenders shouted back. Their fellows called a general agreement.

"Very well," the voice from the attackers said. "Forward, men!"

What followed was a remarkably awkward clash. Traditional punches or kicks were too unwieldy with your hands bound together, so combatants shoved their shoulders into one another, headbutted, swung two-handed punches, and whipped their chains in a brutal, confused mess.

It was perfect.

With a deep breath and a moment to refocus himself, Ashilis jumped into the fray from behind the attackers, using their fight as a shield against detection from the defenders. This close up, he could see the violence much more clearly. Both sides screamed, growled, and attacked in wide swings that made their chains rattle and snap against the stone ground, but they barely actually hit anyone. Ashilis took a moment to search, but he couldn't find wounds worse than a black eye or swollen lip. It almost seemed like they were trying to scare one another off more than actually push them out.

He skirted along the outside of the fighting, lashing his chain out at thin air a few times in mimic of what he saw the others doing. He was glad that they didn't seem interested in actually fighting, and not only because he didn't want to be hit. Stealing desperately needed food was one thing, but Ashilis wasn't interested in causing any more harm than absolutely necessary. Fortunately, no one questioned his presence in the fight. One of the attackers even stepped in to help him shove back a defender that tried to push him out of rank.

Ashilis eventually reached the edge of the combat. Now the hard part. Ashilis waited for the defender nearest him to commit to one of their wild sweeping attacks, then darted forward, clasped both hands together, and smashed them into the back of the man's head. His hand ached abominably from the impact, but it worked. The man he struck stumbled into one of the attackers, and both of them tumbled to the ground. Ashilis took that window to make a break for the basin full of mushrooms.

The cooks shouted in surprise, but their cries were lost in the clamor of the nearby fight, and they only put up a token resistance as Ashilis shoved his arms into the basin of mushrooms. He glanced back at the people he had knocked over as he gathered. They were vigorously trying to pin one another, and the one that Ashilis had hit was winning, so he probably wasn't too badly injured by the blow.

Arms wrapped tightly around a couple dozen mushrooms, Ashilis ran—in as much as he could with his legs bound together—back towards his cell. The guards that were left out of the fight to stop to stop this kind of thing were facing out, where they thought people like Ashilis would come from. Ashilis rammed his shoulder into one, knocking them over, then continued his scrambling away.

Ashilis started to let his focus slip. He had actually done it, and it wasn't nearly as bad as he expected. Ashilis had worried that he would panic in the middle of all the fighting, but the artifice of the encounter had helped quell his anxiety, and everyone in the fight was too focused to think of him as anything but another body. He could still hear angry shouting from behind, but when he glanced back at the fighting, he didn't see anyone chasing him. He also didn't see the person leap out of a nearby cell until they had already shoved him over.

Ashilis hit the ground hard, holding the mushrooms tight to his chest. Even still, a good half of them spilled out onto the ground. He ended up on his side, groaning. Fortunately he had managed to avoid hitting his head against the ground too hard, so he quickly regained the presence of mind to climb back up to his feet and keep moving. Not quickly enough, it turned out, as a second shove impacted him right as he got up to his knees. This time he was ready for it, though, and tucked into a roll that carried him back up to his feet.

He had dropped most of the mushrooms, which a scrawny looking girl with short cropped black hair had already snatched up. She glanced at him as she picked up the last one, then jumped backwards, looking surprised. Ashilis inched forward. She moved back.

"Those are mine," Ashilis said, shuffling toward her again.

"That was a neat trick you pulled there. Mine was better, though," she said, taking a few more steps back, towards the cell that she leapt out from. Why was she cornering herself like that?

"I could still fight you for them, you know," Ashilis said, though he didn't move any closer.

"Yeah," the girl admitted. "But I think we've got you beat there." As she spoke, two burly figures with intense expressions stepped into the doorway behind her.

Rot take me, Ashilis thought. He sized up the other two, then started to back away.

"Drop the rest of it," the girl called.

Ashilis stopped. He only had three of the mushrooms left. Each one might be large enough for a single meal. "You can't be serious."

"Rotting serious. As in I'm serious that you'll be rotting if you don't do as..." she trailed off, voice growing soft. The two burly men shuffled and glanced behind them, as if suddenly regretting having nowhere to run.

A large hand fell onto Ashilis' shoulder. He spun around, hands clasped together for a heavy two-fisted swing, but calmed as he saw who it was.

"No," Drym rumbled, glaring at the girl and her thugs. "We will go now. You will stay here." His tone left absolutely no room for disagreement, and his hulking muscles acted as threat enough on their own, though Drym was just standing there. Had he looked so menacing before? Drym gently pushed Ashilis towards their cell, following close behind

"Rotten thieves," Drym growled. "We will have to hunt them down later." Did he not know that Ashilis himself had stolen those mushrooms? Maybe it was best to keep that detail to himself for now.

Ashilis glanced back several times, but didn't catch sight of the girl. Still, he let out a breath that he hadn't realized he was holding once they made it back to the cell. He stepped inside, but Drym stayed outside for a moment longer, scanning the room—probably to make sure no one else had followed them after seeing Ashilis' stunt.

Bellavie was lying down with her eyes closed, groaning softly. Ashilis crouched down and gently shook her. She stirred, but her eyes remained unfocused until Ashilis presented one of the morogrib. At the sight of food, she forced herself upright, eyes wide.

"You actually did it?" She croaked, sounding genuinely shocked. Her voice was weaker than it was during their first conversation. Fortunately, she still had the energy to snatch the mushroom from Ashilis' hand and tear into it.

"Who was that?" Drym called from outside, sounding startled. "Is someone in the cell?"

"No need to worry, Drym. It's just a guide I picked up while I was out," Ashilis said, smiling faintly as Bellavie closed her eyes, reveling in her meal, as if the overcooked mushroom were the most divine thing she had ever tasted. His grand plan to stock up on food hadn't worked out, but this much was worth it.

Drym poked his head into the room, then leapt fully through the door frame, pointing at Bellavie. "You!" He cried. Was that fear in the massive man's voice?

Bellavie's attention snapped up to Drym. She looked around the room, as if searching for an escape, then just looked down at her half-eaten mushroom, resigned. "Just my rotting luck," she grumbled.

Ashilis looked between them, frowning. "Do... you two know each other?"

"No," Bellavie snapped, gnawing at her morogrib with significantly reduced enthusiasm.

Drym shook his finger at her. "She is a rotten trickster! Worse than the Vicarts! She replaces your thoughts!" He stepped forward, seized Ashilis under one arm, then hauled him toward the door. "Cannot be trusted. Ruins everything. We should lock her away."

Ashilis frowned at Drym. Can't be trusted? But she has been nothing but friendly and forthcoming with her knowledge, and only wanted to be fed in exchange. How could she possibly be dangerous?

Drym grabbed Ashilis by his shoulders and shook him back and forth. "You see! She is already in your mind!"

Was she? The thought was distinctly disturbing. Ashilis already knew so little, and he didn't want to confront the idea that some of it might be untrue. He tried anyway. What Drym was saying seemed ridiculous, but Ashilis had no idea what was actually possible. All he could rely on were vague feelings when something did or didn't sound right, with no proof to back any of it up. It was like an emotional muscle memory, flexing confusion or disbelief whenever something didn't register as true.

He had relied on those instincts when deciding to trust Drym earlier, and again when he freed Bellavie. Ashilis had his doubts about the girl earlier, but was beginning to realize that those worries only really manifested after he had left her behind. Was that because she could no longer influence him, or just a coincidence? He had decided to trust her, despite his doubts. He could still do that, even with this added layer of...

Ashilis hesitated, eyeing Bellavie. His thoughts had suddenly turned favorable towards her, and even now he could feel his mind struggling to come to the conclusion that she may be guilty of what Drym claimed. Ironically, that was what convinced him.

"How do you do it?" he asked, shaking off Drym's grip to kneel down in front of Bellavie again.

She glanced at him, then at Drym, then sighed. Ashilis could feel something lift off of his mind, like a sheet cast over certain thoughts being pulled away. It may have been in his head, but Ashilis thought Bellavie looked a little different afterward. Something about her hair?

"I don't know," she admitted. "It's something I've always been able to do. Maybe I once knew how it worked, but I don't anymore." She glared at Drym. "And that's the truth, I'll have you know. I'm just as much of a prisoner here as the rest of you."

"Evil prisoner, though," Drym grumbled.

Ashilis ignored him. "Alright, then how does it work?"

Bellavie gave him a flat stare.

"Generally," he prompted.

She ran a hand through her hair, and it came away with a few droplets of water on her fingers. Were those related to what she was doing? "It has to do with denying things, I guess. If I pretend that something isn't true, then it influences people's perception of that thing. It usually replaces the truth with the next most likely thing. If I pretend that a door isn't there, people will see it as a wall instead, or maybe a window, if there's light shining through it."

Ashilis nodded, trying to wrap his head around her words. Was any of it true? He supposed that there was no way to prove that it wasn't, at least not yet. "So you make people think the same thing that you're thinking," he said slowly, possibilities forming in his mind.

"Something like that."

"Do not, my friend," Drym rumbled. "You have tried before. She ruins the plans."

"We've met?" Ashilis asked. He hadn't felt that same glimmer of familiarity as he had with Drym, and she didn't seem to know him either. Maybe her abilities had prevented both of them from recognizing each other, even on that instinctual level. He had to smother his frustration. Was there no part of his mind that he could rely on?

Drym grunted. "Met, then betrayed. Big mess. The Throttlers still blame us."

Bellavie sucked air through her teeth, making a kind of worried hissing sound. "Alright, listen, I may have done some things in the past, but who among us hasn't? We're all just trying to survive here, right? I'm sure we all barely remember any of it. Why don't we let bygones be bygones and move on?"

"No," Drym said flatly.

Ashilis pinched his temples. He probably shouldn't trust Bellavie, given her abilities, but neither did it feel right to put her back into that cell. Her knowledge was valuable, and her abilities had intriguing possibilities. The problem is that she wasn't likely to work with them. Maybe...

"We can't just let you go," Ashilis said, kneeling down beside Bellavie again.

She bristled. "I won't just let you throw me back into-"

"But," Ashilis said, cutting her off. "Neither will we just abandon you. You'll stay here for now, until we're sure we can trust you, or at least until we're too entrenched for you to cause any major problems. We'll get you food and you'll tell us what you know about the Harum-Scarum." He held out a hand. "Deal?"

Bellavie inspected Ashilis with obvious suspicion, then looked back down at her mushroom. "I don't have much of a choice in the matter, do I? Do whatever you want."

Ashilis sighed, withdrawing his hand and standing.

"This is stupid. She will trick you. You will think that you trust her because she will want you to trust her," Drym protested. 

Ashilis felt a pang of guilt as he turned to face Drym. He had made that decision all on his own, even knowing that Drym wouldn't like it. Ashilis should have convinced him first, explained his plan and made sure Drym agreed with it. Why had he just assumed that Drym would go along with it? Why had he asked for Bellavie's opinion but not his self-proclaimed friend's?

"Drym, I-"

"No," Drym interrupted. "You are the smart one. You must have a plan. I will trust you." He took a step towards Bellavie, looming over her. "But I will not trust her."

Ashilis forced a smile, because that felt like the right response. He wasn't as confident in his abilities as Drym was, but he couldn't let the big guy see him uncertain any more than he already had. Ashilis wasn't sure what kind of partnership he had with Drym, but it certainly seemed like Ashilis called the shots. Perhaps a part of him remembered that. Still, he resolved to do better about getting the man's input.

I must have a plan, he mused. A plan for what, though?