137. Alternate Routes

  After a busy, bloody, and messy night, Serac finally made it back to the Hubstation in one piece (or as few pieces as possible). By then, seafoam had bled into the sky, signaling the dawn of another day in Krongard. The Rakshasa knew today would be anything but peaceful or predictable; it was imperative she give herself a fresh start.

  When she came out fully reconstituted, she saw she hadn’t been alone in her diligence. Another soul had sat down next to her to meditate, but not before taking the time to fix Serac with an inscrutable stare.

  [Designation: RODRIN SKJORTSDATTER]

  [Wayfarer Race: YAKSHA]

  [Karmic Level: 15]

  [Liminal Karma: 0 ?]

  [ZEALOUS Instrument: HARPOON]

  [Auxiliary: MISERICORDE]

  “Oh, hi, Rodrin,” Serac greeted the newcomer, hoping to sound less nervous than she felt. Her voice had indeed spiked one octave higher, but that was how she normally talked to Rodrin—the baby of the whole palace. “Bit early in the day for meditation, isn’t it? What’s up?”

  “I could ask you the same thing.”

  A fair point. Serac rued the risk she’d taken, but understood it had been out of necessity. Moreover, she was stung by Rodrin’s cold and leery attitude. Not that she could blame the young mackerel woman, of course, given how the two of them had stepped off on the wrong giant prawn foot. Nor could she allow herself to be distracted by politics and feelings—not even her own.

  “Well, I asked you first.” Serac set her face to stone and her voice to its baseline pitch. “If you don’t wanna talk to me, that’s fine, but at least have the courtesy to tell me that directly.”

  Serac was taken aback by her own sternness, but perhaps not as much as Rodrin. The mackerel’s round eyes grew rounder, a little too reminiscent of Petter for Serac’s comfort. Even the woman’s mumbled response gave off something of the familiar aw-shucks energy.

  “A—apologies, out—um, Serac Edin. It’s not anything personal. I sometimes go to the Pasture to train on my own, during the odd hours of night when no one will… The point is, I need to improve. I don’t want to let down anyone in the Kronvakt, especially not my Team Leader. So, yes, that sometimes means needing to reconstitute even when I’m off-duty.”

  Well, now I feel even worse. It wasn’t just that Rodrin had called Serac by her name, when most other Kronvakt members would just use ‘Rakshasa’. It wasn’t even the young woman’s aw-shucks earnestness, toiling away in the night to work on her ‘craft’. No, even worse, Serac had just been reminded who Rodrin’s ‘Team Leader’ was. None other than Eddur Lokksen who, even as they spoke, sat tied up in a windowless cell in the brig.

  Forget politics and feelings. Serac steeled herself. Focus on the mission. The mission is all that should matter to me…

  “It’s admirable, what you’re doing.” Serac chose her next words, trying her best not to stumble over them. “And I’m sure your efforts will pay off before long. Well, I’ll leave you to it then. See you at the meeting!”

  Serac stood and walked off, ostensibly in the direction of personal quarters. She hid a wince, wondering if she’d come across too artificial. She also realized only too late that she’d forgotten to give her reason for off-duty meditation. To her great relief, however, Rodrin issued no follow-up questions. Good thing Rodrin didn’t see me before the reconstitution, with my bloodied clothes and hacked-up throat! Serac scurried away from the scene of the crime, shoulders hunched and head bent.

  And onto another rendezvous with Team Serac. Instead of returning to quarters, she made a wide loop around the central Bulb, eyes peeled and horns attuned for any signs of trouble. The route eventually took her to a nook at the fork between the Western and Southern Boughs. Zacko and Petter were already waiting, figures half-hidden by terrain and vegetation.

  The trio had been forced to accelerate their plans—an unavoidable consequence of their run-in with Eddur. In a matter of hours, the rest of the Kronvakt would find one of their Team Leaders missing. Serac and Zacko, as the newest members that had joined under highly unusual circumstances, had better make themselves scarce before that could happen.

  It wasn’t all bad news, however. By removing a long-range Peeping Tom from the equation, Team Serac now had their best window of opportunity to ‘act sus’ around the palace. Said window would be brief, and there was no going back to ‘normal’ after this, no matter the outcome. All the more reason for them to go all out and make it count.

  “How’s Eddur?” was her first question for the group. Despite the barreleye being securely locked up, Serac had yet to shake the sensation of being watched by SCRYGLASS.

  “Oh, he’ll be fine,” Zacko said breezily. “It’ll do him some good to spend time somewhere with no mirrors to distract him.”

  “You know that’s not what I meant.”

  “What, you’re worried he’ll escape? Well, don’t be. We have the key to his cell, and besides, you saw the look on the guard’s face. He’s in too deep and just praying for all this to blow over. He won’t rat us out.”

  That poor tuna-typed soldier couldn’t seem to get through a night shift in peace. Zacko had dealt with him in his Zacko ways, and Serac wasn’t about to argue. Yet, despite the assurances, she still couldn’t shake Eddur from her mind.

  “Don’t worry, Miss.” Petter had gone back to the honorifics now that he was a good deal calmer. Baby steps. “Even if Mister Eddur somehow manages to get out, he’ll have lost the chance to intervene. Once we go, we don’t stop. Not until we’re out of the palace with our friends in tow.”

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  Serac nodded, a little surprised but deeply appreciative. But it was high time she stopped being surprised. For Petter had made it his habit to come through for Team Serac, long before he’d become a Wayfarer.

  “Alright.” Zacko flattened his eyebrows. “Let’s go over this one last time. Pete, take it away.”

  All eyes turned to a picture Petter had drawn into the dirt. A schematic of the Apical Bough, complete with a simplified layout of key locations.

  “In short, the royal chambers are one big globe made up of many smaller spheres. The walls on the outside are layers upon layers of Crown-leaves woven into each other, with the Sanzu River cascading down all sides. Whereas the rooms inside are single units connected by branches of the Apical Bough. I’ve marked out two rooms of particular interest. The guesthouse”—a small bubble along the lower edge of the larger circle, just above a rectangular space that stood for the dining hall—“as well as Queen Loha’s private chamber.”

  The second location was almost directly opposite to the first, along the edge of the Apical Bough’s upper half. Seeing the picture as a whole, Serac was struck by an odd thought.

  “Reminds of the Aviary.” She gauged Zacko’s reaction. As far as she knew, the Manusya was the only other soul in Pretjord who knew what she was talking about. “One big space filled with lots of smaller ‘cages’, all connected by threads and footpaths.”

  “Don’t think you’re far off, Princess.” Zacko shrugged, clearly not sharing Serac’s interest. “What did Robot Voice v.1 tell you? That the Aviary was modeled after a lung? Well, I’ve heard the booksmart people of Manesfera describe the lung as a lot like a tree, with its network of branches and leaves? See, I’m more ‘Erudite’ than you give me credit for.”

  An interesting tidbit, but Serac was left dissatisfied. Something about the similarity between Krongard’s Apical Bough and the Damnatorium’s Aviary struck her as significant. Maybe even enough to warrant digging into it further. Then a prickling sensation in her right temple told her at least one ‘entity’ agreed with her.

  “Maybe it’ll come up, maybe it won’t,” Serac concluded inconclusively. “Sorry, Petey. Go on with your briefing.”

  “Right. Well, our plan is to split into two sides and approach both of these locations at the same time. Mister Zacko will go in from the west and head to the guesthouse. That’s where you should find Ms Inge and Munkfred at this time of day.”

  “This entry point,” Zacko cut in, “is it the same one you used for your recon work?”

  “That’s right. I’ve covered up the holes but haven’t fully ‘repaired’ them. Should get you in smoothly enough, but anything on the inside would be uncharted territory, even for me.”

  “Not to worry, Pete. Your salt-and-pepper trick should let us sneak around some more once we’re in. Worst comes to worst, we brute force this thing. Which is what Serac and I do best, anyway.”

  “As for the second route, Miss Serac and I will go in from the east. Make our way to the Queen’s chamber. I have to say, I’m a little more hesitant about this part of the plan. But hopefully, the Queen will have left useful clues in her room. Or…”

  “Failing that, just grab the Queen herself,” Zacko suggested far too casually. “She’s long overdue for her comeuppance, anyway, and I trust Serac to deliver the goods. Even better if you could get her to spill the beans on where she’s keeping Bubblegum.”

  Petter, still wet behind the earholes, paled and gulped. Serac, on the other hand, was distracted by yet another recollection—this one a lot more recent.

  “Hang on. Remember what Mr King told us at that feast? That he built Queen No-Chill a balcony as a wedding gift? Any chance we could just… climb into her room?”

  “Hm, I kind of doubt it.” Zacko. “Don’t think the outer walls are very climber-friendly, what with the curves and waterfalls and all. Recon man, thoughts?”

  “Now that you mention it, I do remember seeing an amber structure nestled within the outer Crown-leaves. Could it be some sort of support? It certainly would be the right location for it…”

  “That’s it!” Serac clapped her hands. “Show me this amber thing, Petey, and I’ll see if I can secure us a climbing route. It’ll be much faster and probably safer than trying to sneak through indoors.”

  “I could try, Miss, but are you sure about this? I… I wouldn’t want to be a burden.”

  “No burden at all.” As if for emphasis, Serac gave PULVERIZER a fond pat on its craggy rocks, though she had one of its [Alternate Forms] in mind. “Just get me to a wall that’s not covered in waterfalls, and I’m sure I can make it work. You’ll see.”

  And that was that. Far from a perfect plan, but it was the best they had. If worst came to worst, Serac was ready to brute force it. It was, after all, what she and Zacko did best.

  No time like the present. The trio left their nook behind and started their climb toward the Apical Bough. They would’ve looked exceedingly suspicious to any prying eye. But the hour was still early, and the prying-est pair of eyes were locked behind solid walls.

  One voice had remained silent throughout the briefing. Said voice chose this moment to speak up, with Serac already preoccupied with a difficult task.

  “Do you not worry, Wayfarer,” Trippy spoke in a pointed monotone—his way of ‘just putting it out there’, “about how this mission of yours might detract from the larger goal?”

  Huh? Serac kept to her inside voice, but a tad roughly at that. She wasn’t particularly fond of the way Trippy had learned to ‘pick his spots’. What do you mean? What’s more important than freeing my friend from the clutches of her messed up family?

  “You’re a Wayfarer, Wayfarer. Shouldn’t your topmost priority ever be the Path that takes you to the summit of Mount Meru?”

  Oh, not this again, please. Not now, not here. Besides, I’m doing just fine! Two months in, and I’m already up to ten KLs away from 60. What do you have to complain about?

  “Yes, you’ve done a remarkable job of racing to the Karmic Benchmark, I’ll grant you that. But don’t forget the second requirement: an Ascension Mandate. Suppose you manage to rescue this Renate Sandvik. Suppose even that you strike down every Wayfaring foe who might stand in your way, enough to climb past KL-60. But what then? How will you obtain your Mandate from a King against whom you’ll have committed open treason?”

  I… well, I guess it’s not ideal, but it’s not like I haven’t been in this situation before. I had to smite Naraka’s Realm Immortal to get my Mandate there. Guess I’ll just have to do the same here in Pretjord.

  “You make it sound so easy. Naraka’s Realm Immortal had two Bone Maidens and a rabble of Husks. King Tyr Djofulsen, on the other hand, has a devoted Queen, a powerful Prince, a platoon of Wayfarers, an army of trained soldiers, and a whole population of loyal subjects who’ll—”

  Okay, I get your point! I’m being rash and making things overly difficult for myself, is that what you want me to say? Well, jeez, first you want me to speedrun this Wayfaring thing, and now you want me to slow down? Pick a lane, man!

  “I merely wanted to remind you”—Trippy’s monotone slowed in cadence, as though he felt and pushed through the weight of his every word—“that there are many ways for a Wayfaring journey to grind to a halt, and often not by choice. There are walls too steep and too treacherous for even the most intrepid and tenacious climber. I just hope, Serac Edin, that your Path won’t lead you astray for too long.”

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