Chương 153: 67. The Good Ones Tend to Go Unnoticed

"[Hold on, back up—you're telling me that you met the Alchemist in a dream, a fricking month ago, and you're just now telling us about it?!]""In my defense," Vi replies hesitantly,"I wasn't certain whether that was even real. I figured I could deal with it on my own, if it came up again."

"[What do you mean 'on your own'?]" I huff.

"[We don't do things on our own, and that's a pretty serious thing to keep from us.]""I—you're right," she sighs.

"It was a stupid decision and I wasn't thinking clearly at the time. Then I just stayed the course without thinking about it. I'm sorry." The Alchemist waits patiently while I argue with myself. Rara and Talla stand by nervously until Talla cuts in.

"[Allie, can I talk to you for a moment?]" she asks in my own language. Woah, she's gotten really good at that. And here I thought I was pulling ahead in the race to learn each other's languages. I'll need to step up my [Linguist] practice.

"[I'm having a bit of a crisis over here, but okay, what's up?]""[What does—? No, forget that, you're not actually trusting him, are you?]" I shrug, taking note of the hostile glare that Talla is giving him.

"[I'm not sure yet, why?]""[He's insane,]" she replies.

"[I expected him to be strange, but his story is impossible. He's either lying, or he's the strongest chaos mage ever—and both options are bad.]" The Alchemist himself just watches impassively, taking a sip of stingroot juice— hey, that's mine!

"Hardly," he chuckles.

"I'm merely the strongest you know of. The good ones tend to go unnoticed."

"That doesn't change—" she starts to argue, then cuts herself off.

"Wait, we were speaking in another language."

"Hey dumbfucks," Maggie interjects.

"I figured out how to hijack Engie's [Message] system and use it as a translator back when we were still in that damn cave! If I can do it, so can he."

"She gets it," Al says, nodding at me. Rara blinks, looking between us all with naked confusion.

"I am so lost right now..."

"Then allow me to bring you up to speed," Talla sighs.

"The Alchemist is not only a 'former' cultist, but also a chaos mage, and almost certainly insane from two hundred years of chronic magical strain." It's a good thing Rara's skill is still in effect. The cafe isn't exactly busy but we are outside and there are people around. She just stares at her sister uncomprehending for a moment before slowly turning to look at the Alchemist with an expression of dawning horror. Al waggles his fingers in a cute little wave as he steals some more of my drink with a smile.

"Why do you think I created the tinctures that earned me my epithet?" he asks.

"I assure you, I'm quite sane—or close enough to fake it at least. Most of what you think you know about so-called 'chaos magic' is misleading or outright false, but if we're to continue this conversation we ought to have it somewhere more private—skill or not."

"He doesn't seem too deranged to me," I hedge.

"And he's offering to help. We shouldn't just disregard that."

"I agree," Vi says.

"He could be a powerful ally, and one not connected to established powers."

"I like him," Maggie agrees.

"He's fun!" Evelyn is the last to chime in, and I can feel her hesitating before adding her voice to the fray.

"He is a heretic, a blasphemer, and a desecrator," she says, with less venom than I would have expected.

"Assuming we believe his claims, he's one of the people who murdered me, and it's little comfort to know that he had second thoughts about it in the end." It's almost uncomfortable how calm she is while saying all of this. Evie gets pretty heated when talking about either religious stuff or her past life—especially her death—and this is both. Her voice takes on a pained edge as she continues.

"But if he has answers, then I want—no, I need to hear them. Why me? What vessel? Beyond that—if there's any chance he can help Draga, then I think we should take it. I already have to tolerate Magdalena—what's one more chaos mage?"

"Hell yeah!" Maggie cheers.

"E'ava corruption arc, let's go!"

"You're really tempting me to change my mind, for all the good it would do me," Evie sighs. The Alchemist's smile falters for a moment, and I realize that if he could talk to Vi, then he probably heard all of us the entire time. Between him and Talla, I've lost all confidence in any semblance of privacy for the conversations in my head. I wish we had a better way to conference that wasn't just openly talking to ourselves.

Either way, we were only allowed to have that conversation uninterrupted because Al and Talla are listening in. Poor Rara just looks baffled by the silence—I really need to make this one up to her somehow.

"For what it's worth, you have my word that I won't do anything to incriminate the Goa family," the Alchemist says.

"Say what you will about me, but I haven't survived two centuries by being the raving lunatic you expect." Reading on Amazon or a pirate site? This novel is from Royal Road. Support the author by reading it there.

"I can't believe I'm even considering this," Talla groans.

"Rara, what do you think?"

"M-me?!" she squeaks.

"Why are you asking me?"

"You're more attuned to politics than I am," Talla says.

"I've only been back for a few weeks, and I've had my hands full with the mess my team is in. I want to help Draga as much as anybody, but can we take his help without burning down the entire family in the process?" Rara looks absolutely mortified to have a decision like this placed in her hands, but she furrows her brows in concentration to give the problem her serious consideration.

"There are a lot of rumors about the Alchemist, some a lot more credible than others," she muses quietly to herself.

"But if you look hard enough you can find someone who thinks just about anything. We can use that to our advantage. Chaos mage? Sure we heard the rumors, but who would actually believe them? He seemed normal enough to us. If it comes out, we just deny it. It would hurt our reputation but..." She looks up at him, her eyes glinting in a way I've never seen from her. Calculating. Balancing the scales.

"Not enough to make up for how much we'd stand to gain if we can establish business connections. I know that's not the kind of help you're offering, but I don't think we can accept any association with you unless we've got certain assurances. Blegh, I feel like I'm turning into Mom—don't make me do that again, Tal!" The Alchemist laughs and tosses his hair back behind his horns.

"Ah, how nostalgic. You're definitely daughters of clan Baanu," he chuckles.

"I'm sure we can work something out. We should hurry, though—the tribunal is already underway, and it will take some time to consolidate my information with what Lady Goa has already gathered." This is it. Finally, we have a chance to make a difference instead of just cowering and hiding while we gather our strength and try to survive. Just hold on, Draga—help is coming. * Erik Goa Baanu is already decanting three glasses of wine when Lady Faarah Foren storms into the sitting room with a haggard sigh.

She accepts the glass he serves her with a grateful nod as she slumps down across from Tamara. By the time Erik finishes serving glasses for his wife and himself, Lady Faarah has already downed hers.

"This is an unmitigated fucking disaster," she declares, breaking the silence. Tamara chuckles lightly.

"Lady Faarah Foren. Lovely to see you as well. Thank you for joining us." Erik, for his part, simply refills Faarah's glass. Nothing too strong. Just a fruit wine, imported from the Blessed Land—expensive and hard to come by with the embargo in place. Tamara had suggested a high quality stingroot wine might suit Faarah's palate better, but Erik reminded her that while Lady Faarah likes to play up her rough exterior, it would be a mistake to match that. Instead, it is better to treat her as what she is—a peer.

She is no lesser for being unlanded, and has proven her place among the nobility by her merit. His wife was more than happy to defer to his judgment as a fellow uplifted noble. Erik loves his wife, but she suffers from the blind spots typical of her station. Thankfully, she is smart enough to recognize those blind spots and find ways to cover them. Marrying him, for example. He's hardly the only one covering Tamara's blind spots, but he is the first among those she trusts to do so.

That wisdom is a large part of why he chose to court her in the first place.

"Sorry if I'm being brief," Faarah doesn't quite grunt, but her voice is rough.

"I've just spent the last ten hours shouting over your damned niece." She takes another gulp of wine, not quite draining the glass this time. Erik smoothly tops her off. Good drink is an essential element of good diplomacy. Normally, a servant would handle such things, but this is a private meeting, and Erik doing it himself was another way to signal respect to a woman accustomed to being brushed off.

"I think you did a fine job of it, Lady Faarah," he comments.

"Lori clearly expected the civil procedure to be more, ah, civil. So to speak." Farrah snorts, nodding her thanks for the drink.

"Just goes to show she's never attended one. Still, we didn't make any progress—just stopped them from gaining any ground. Please tell me you have good news." Tamara hadn't been at the forum, but Erik had. He left in time to give his wife his account of things and prepare for Faarah's arrival, which had been planned in advance. The Goa clan is not officially supporting Faarah, but all that really means is that they aren't going to court for her.

Tamara has always tried to maintain close ties with the rangers, and that interest only increased after Talla joined their ranks.

"Not much, I'm afraid," she sighs.

"Arelii's rather bold invitation to Maev did give me an opportunity to press my brother for information, but nothing came of it. Either Arelii doesn't trust her husband with her plans, or he doesn't trust me."

"Are we certain it's her?" Erik asks.

"She could just be innocent." Tamara takes a sip of her own wine and sighs.

"Matriarch Gaa is many things, but 'innocent' is not one of them. That said, Erik, you're right—we aren't certain, and that's the problem." Lady Faara drums her fingers on the table, frowning.

"What makes you so suspicious of her, anyway? As much of a pain in my ass it is, she has every excuse to be distraught over her daughter's death."

"Connections," she mutters in reply.

"Old history. Everywhere I look, I find Gaa's fingerprints, and while they may not be hers, she is still the matriarch. I don't think she anticipated her daughter's death—she's not that cold—but when I arranged to have her tipped off to the fact that someone was looking into that old unmanaged convergence point, she didn't hesitate to send Kiera there."

"And you didn't hesitate to send Talla right along with her," Faarah retorts.

"Even if you tricked her into thinking it was her own idea. You should have brought the matter directly to me." Tamara inclines her head slightly.

"Perhaps you're right. We noblewomen tend to get caught up in our schemes. A bad habit. Pray you don't adopt it—I rather appreciate your straightforwardness." Erik is about to suggest that they take a moment to step back and lay out what they do know from start to finish, when his eldest daughter barges into the room unannounced.

"Mom! Mom!" she cries, before her eyes slide down to the grandmistress of her order and widen in mortified shock.

"I-I mean, Mother. We have a—an important guest you need to meet." Tamara purses her lips and narrows her eyes at their daughter. His wife dotes endlessly on their children, but when they upset her things can get rather messy.

"Lady Talla Goa Baanu," she hisses through clenched teeth.

"As you can see, we are already meeting with an important guest. I trust you to see to things until we can join you." Oh dear, she's very peeved. Erik sees Talla open her mouth to argue and meets her eyes with a subtle shake of the head. Not now, daughter. Run while you still can. Alas, all the powers of a father and husband are for naught in the face of a young lady's certainty, and his mental warnings do not reach her.

"No disrespect, Grandmistress, but Mother—this is more important," Talla insists.

"We will discuss this later, young lady. Do not undermine me in front of—""It's the Alchemist!" Talla interrupts her mother.

"He's here. Right now." That draws even Tamara up short as the entire room freezes in stunned silence. Erik looks at his daughter, then his wife, then their guest. Finally, with a brief sigh, he gets up and starts pouring more wine glasses.