126. Frostkrillboon

  “So, let me get this straight…”

  Zacko—the king of getting things straight—leaned back against Zacko’s Corner, conveniently closest to the fireplace in Ash’s cabin. Serac and Lars sat cross-legged in the middle of the room to complete a triangle of Wayfarers. Somewhere up on the roof, Hans manned the ramparts as ‘lookout’.

  “Let’s start with how Your Immortal Shark Bro can’t seem to keep it in his pants. He’s been leaving a trail of side babies throughout his centuries-long reign. Bubblegum, known across the Realm only as the Finless, is secretly one such bastard daughter, born to a Rotgardian frog woman. In an effort to keep things hush-hush, Shark Bro had both her and her mom penned up in the palace. Do I have it right, so far?”

  For several seconds, Lars merely stared with an impassive glare, perhaps translating the Zacko-ese in his head. He eventually offered a slow, silent nod.

  “Then you’ve got this spiteful queen who’s dealt with her hubby’s shit for nearly 400 years and decided enough was enough. Ten years ago, Loha maneuvered to have her legitimate son, Prince Sicko, partner up with Bubblegum for the Realmhunt. The play was for Sicko to get all the glory, while Bubblegum had her identity exposed along with Shark Bro’s infidelities. Why? To undermine the king’s authority for the queen’s own gain? To simply humiliate young Renate for who she is? Or maybe—”

  “Maybe just because she could.”

  Serac voiced the thought even as it occurred to her. Her fellow Wayfarers looked at her curiously, but she herself had nothing to add. All she knew was that a familiar image had flashed through her mind—of a lowly Penitent groveling before a towering Jailer.

  “In any case,” Zacko continued, still eyeing Serac with one eyebrow half-raised, “the plan ended up backfiring. The bastard daughter won the Hunt instead of her legitimate brother, and she managed to stay hidden the whole time, even as she stole the Frostkrill smite at the last possible moment. The Realm can’t know about this! No, no, we can’t have that. So Queen No-Chill takes matters into her own hands. She locks up Bubblegum and throws away the key. Leaves her to rot somewhere the sun don’t shine.”

  “Except… she made one crucial mistake,” Serac felt the need to add, even as she struggled to finish the thought, as vile and tragic as it was. “She had Renate’s mom executed! Out of spite? Out of pure evil? Or again… maybe just because she could. After all, Renate’s mom was an Anchored soul, as fragile as the ice beneath us.”

  “And when Bubblegum caught wind of it, she broke out of captivity and went on a rampage… as one does when one’s whole life is fucked to pieces by injustice. It took Shark Bro himself stepping in to put a stop to it, which is how Bubblegum earned herself the permanent black mark of ‘attempted regicide’.”

  “Oh, Renate, you poor thing,” Serac said quietly, almost to herself.

  “The queen didn’t stop there, because she really has no chill,” Zacko went on. “Now that Bubblegum’s on the run, the queen gives her a catchy, villainous moniker as a parting gift. The Finless is now Pretjord’s public enemy number one, and over the next decade, her notoriety along with her rap sheet keeps growing. Partly with real crimes, but also with pure lies and fabrication. Anything that troubles the Realm, just blame it on the Finless… including even that nasty business with the queen’s own Hellspawn pet. Before long, it’s ‘common knowledge’ that the Finless is a witch with a whole Wildspawn army at her command.”

  A heavy silence filled the room, broken up only by the crackling fireplace. Serac’s throat tightened and her eyes burned, but she fought to control her emotions.

  “I think we’re all caught up on royal gossip,” Zacko eventually said, turning his attention back onto their sturgeon informant, “but my question is… how did you come to know all this? Because you sure as hell didn’t this time two months ago.”

  “My brother and I have not been idle these two months.” The response was quick and, if Serac weren’t mistaken, a little defensive. “Happenings in cave opened our eyes to the Realm’s secrets and lies. Investigated only way we knew how. So happens our boss is highly connected individual—and meticulous record-keeper. From notes, letters, and ledgers, able to piece together his role in directly assisting the Queen. Including fact that he deliberately gave away his entire supply of Realmtree Dew to Finless.”

  The topic was grim, but Lars’s latest revelation was a rare source of joy and pride.

  “That’s why you guys stuck around in Stamgard!” Serac exclaimed, punching the sturgeon’s arm. “Well done, you! But why didn’t you tell us sooner? You know, before I said all those mean things at the Iskolle game?”

  “Like I said”—Lar’s glare twitched ever so slightly—“do not speak of things you do not understand.”

  “Hang on,” Zacko—the king of staying on topic—cut in, “what’s this about the Realmtree Dew? How does that play into all this?”

  “Realmtree Dew has multiple uses, mainly medicinal. Extracted only from leaves up in the Crown and is therefore highly valuable. Not strange for smuggler like Finless to take special interest in it. But Queen Loha, and Palmr Jorgensen by extension, believe the interest to be of profoundly personal nature.”

  “Inge!” Serac put two and two together. “It’s for her, isn’t it? If Inge’s got some kind of sickness that needs to be treated with the Realmtree Dew, then Renate definitely would go out of her way just for that.”

  “Inge the Seeker…” Lars said with a touch of reverence. “Never saw her in action, but have heard of her feats from decades past. Given Finless’s devotion to this woman, it follows the Queen would want to keep her alive and healthy, perhaps as potential bargaining chip, just as we saw today. Evidently, the Queen learned her lesson from ten years ago. And for ten years, she waited for opportunity to lure Inge Bjornsdatter out of hiding.”

  “Little did any of us know,” Zacko murmured thoughtfully, “not even Bubblegum, as it turned out… that Inge the Firecracker didn’t need luring. No, all it took was for the Netherpool to rise again and the Realmhunt to be back on, and our old gal—bless her heart—came out on her own just to answer the call of adventure.”

  Serac dropped to the floor, where she lay flat on her back and stared up at the stone ceiling. Politics and feelings, now turned up to the nth degree! She scrunched up her face and rubbed at her temples—at a headache that had nothing to do with her Circlet. Not for the first time, she missed the hellish simplicity of Naraka. She would’ve fought a thousand Bone Lords if it meant she only had one clear target to aim at.

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  “Which brings me to my question for you, outrealmers.”

  Lars’s ever stoic voice floated somewhere above Serac’s head, mixing with the smoke from the fireplace. Smoke? Was Ash’s fireplace meant to be putting out so much smoke? And what was that smell? Something savory with a whiff of the briny sea.

  “What will you do with information?” Lars pressed. “You now know what happened here. Not just tonight, but also this day ten years ago. You know the malice and corruption that run up and down the Realmtree, from topmost Crown to deepest Roots. Where do your Paths lead from here?”

  “I mean, we have to rescue Bubblegum and co, first and foremost.” Zacko gave a prompt and forceful reply, which somewhat surprised Serac (and shamed her for being surprised at all). “We now have conclusive evidence to support Serac’s theory that the Finless is a good, misunderstood soul. Besides which, I just like having her around. Oh, and don’t forget poor Pete’s been mixed up in all this.”

  Serac hadn’t forgotten, but it still hurt to be reminded.

  “I see,” Lars said, “and how exactly do you plan to do that?”

  “It’d be nice if we could just climb up to the palace and knock on some doors, but I’ve a feeling you’ll tell me that’s a bad idea.”

  “That is bad idea.”

  “Sneak in then? Some real heist movie shit? Do you have an in? Or know a guy who knows a guy who—”

  “We don’t have to sneak in,” Serac chimed in, once again voicing a new thought, hot off the press. “Don’t forget I lost my bet with Prince Sicko”—she hadn’t forgotten, but it still hurt to be reminded—“which means they’ll be expecting me up in the palace. To join the Kronvakt or whatever. Granted, the fact we worked with Renate during the Hunt might complicate things a bit, especially with Queen No-Chill in the picture, but you saw Rathor. He doesn’t care. If anything, I’ll bet he’ll be amused. A fun little challenge to keep me in line while I try to wreck his shit.”

  “I tend to agree,” Lars weighed in with a local’s opinion. “Nothing ties you to Finless beyond temporary alliance during the Hunt—something King Tyr himself explicitly endorsed. Is good thing you were not present during Finless’s capture, for you surely would have implicated yourselves then. Same cannot be said for me and my brother. Whatever Hans and I do from here on out, we must emulate Finless and work in shadows. Needless to say, as of this moment, our employment at Jorgen & Sons is terminated.”

  Serac shifted her gaze from the ceiling and onto Lars’s impassive glare. She would’ve sat up and given him another punch of appreciation, if she didn’t feel so sleepy on top of [Hungry]. The pent-up exhaustion from another busy day had hit her all at once.

  “So”—Zacko again—“I guess it all circles back to you, Prin—actually, I can’t call you that anymore, can I? What with Bubblegum being a real princess. Anyway, it’s your call, Serac. Stick to what we know best and go in guns blazing, even if the chance of success might be super low. Or take up the royal assholes on their offer to join their stupid Wayfaring troupe. With any luck, we’ll have a chance to destroy the palace from the inside. So? What will it be?”

  Serac’s droopy eyes drifted back onto the ceiling. She knew an answer was expected of her, and she wanted desperately to give one, but she’d yet to sort through her own feelings. Could the decision wait until tomorrow? She could really do with a good night’s sleep. Or failing that, at least a warm, hearty—

  “Hold that thought.” Lars suddenly got to his feet, or as close to it as possible without hitting his head against the ceiling. “I think it is ready.”

  “Ready?” Serac murmured, somewhat relieved by the interruption. “What’s—?”

  Before she knew it, her senses filled with the savory scent from earlier, now accompanied by a strong aroma of the briny sea. Her view of the ceiling gave way to that of Lars holding out a skewer of spit-roasted something, smoking and dripping with rendered fat.

  “What is this?” She sat up, mouth flooding with saliva and all thought of sleep gone in an instant. But she didn’t need Lars for an answer, for Pathsight gave one first:

  [Designation: Frostkrillboon]

  [Item Class: Consumable]

  [Item Description: Shrimp on the barbie: a delicacy that put an entire nation on the culinary map and launched a thousand ships in search of its succulent zest and mystical, transformative properties. A worthy meal for a worthy Hunter. When consumed by a [Synthesis]-adept Wayfarer, the Frostkrillboon grants a permanent and powerful upgrade to her Instrument. The effect varies by the Instrument.]

  Serac blinked several times, looking from the [Frostkrillboon] to Lars and back again. Her stomach rumbled audibly, as drool pooled in a corner of her mouth.

  “You… you’re just gonna give this to me?” she asked weakly. “But why… how…?”

  “Only way to produce [Frostkrillboon],” Lars explained, his own features softened by a faint smile, “is by cooking first cut of Frostkrill meat after it has been smited. Is time-honored tradition to award it to winner of Realmhunt, which means King Tyr has had it four times, and Prince Rathor once (undeservedly). Well, earlier today, Hans and I took liberty of stealing first cut, while everyone else’s attention was turned… elsewhere. Shame for Finless to miss out on her rightful prize twice, but I think she would prefer this outcome over the one from ten years ago.”

  “But… why not you? Or Hans?” Serac drooled some more, genuinely confused. “It’s not like I deserve it anymore than Rathor did.”

  “It would be folly of the highest order to decline this gift, Wayfarer,” Trippy gave his unsolicited opinion. “Based on the description, I’d say this will have a similar effect to the [???] you consumed inside the Realm-cave. A new weapon for your growing arsenal. And all above board this time, without the drawback of a guilty conscience.”

  “I don’t think you understand how guilty consciences work,” Serac argued, forgetting to use her inside voice. It prompted a puzzled look from Lars, but only for a brief moment. The man had evidently grown used to his Narakite friend’s peculiarities.

  “You, Serac Edin, deserve it as much as anyone,” the Yaksha insisted. “Your arrival in Pretjord changed everything. A—what is word?—catalyst to set stagnant forces in motion once again. Take this as token of gratitude, from both me and my brother. We would have considered Manusya”—he threw a glance in Zacko’s direction, which the Manusya returned with a breezy wave of the hand—“but he is not [Synthesis]-adept. Thought might count, but effects of consumable will be wasted.”

  “Twin A is right, princess.” Zacko too jumped in. “This Realm is about to change; maybe already has. For better or for worse, who’s to say? But shit’s about to get real, and we need all the help we can get. Go on. Eat that shrimp and take its powers. You deserve it, if for nothing else than all the trouble we’ve been through.”

  Wow, sheesh, twist my arm, why don’t you? Serac finally relented, deciding she’d shown enough humility to be in Karma’s good graces. With one last exchange of a look and a nod, she relieved Lars of the skewer and took a bite.

  And what a bite! Firm and springy on contact, yet melt-in-your-mouth tender upon entry. The scent that had so tantalized her now actualized into a full-bodied flavor she wouldn’t soon forget.

  So much for humility! Serac devoured the rest in a matter of seconds, each bite better than the last. To have this so soon after the Jotun-Yaki… she really had spoiled herself today.

  Yet no consumption of a consumable would be complete without its Pathsighted effect. And a [Synthesis]-adept Rakshasa pulled herself out of her bliss long enough to note:

  [REVOLVER Spell unlocked]

  [Chamber Two: METABOLIC SHIFT]

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