Payday

  "Yer working with demons!" yelled Gillian. "Demons, Marci! Yer- yer a colborator! A traitor!"

  "Well, technically they work for me," said Marci, rubbing her forehead. "Colboration sort of implies I would be working for them. And I'm not a traitor—this is all just a big misunderstanding. An accident."

  They'd been at this for twenty minutes and even if her fairy body was just a meat puppet, it was definitely giving her a headache.

  They were in her study-ssh-library, and she'd kicked out anyone who wasn't her friend—or Anke— and prepared herself to be yelled at. Which, honestly, felt a bit unfair. None of this was Marci's fault. Well, some of it was. A little, maybe.

  "Demons!" screamed Gillian, from where he was alternately pacing and jerking back whenever he got close to a bookshelf, as if it might somehow infect him with its admittedly quite spooky carvings. "Yer working with demons!"

  "Don't forget 'I've become a Necromancer too,'" said Of, who was leaning against her desk with his arms crossed and a vaguely disapproving look on his face, his tail swishing.

  "Yes! That too!" said Gillian. "What have yeh done!? I thought- I thought yeh were better than this!"

  "I didn't have a choice," said Marci, her own temper fraying. "I needed to get you out of the prison. I couldn't let you hang! Not- not for something you didn't do! Not because of my error!"

  "But now have!" said Gillian. "Yeh've made us colborators too!"

  "What would you have had me do?" snapped Marci. "I couldn't break you out without muscle, and the only things I had avaible were demons, only some of whom I could count of not to massacre people, which is why I turned to necromancy! In fact, you should all be saying how responsible I am! I could have recruited double, or even triple the number of demons, and just unleashed them on the jail. But I didn't! I limited colteral damage!"

  "You pulverised the city fortress!" shouted Of.

  "They started it!" shouted Marci.

  "Alright, we think that our friends should all take a deep breath," said Tissa, ever the peacemaker, holding up her taloned hands. "We and Friend Gillian, Of, and Anke are all gd to be free and no longer about to die, yes?"

  "Not like this," said Gillian, crossing his arms and shaking his head. "Yeh've damned us, Marci. Damned us. I should have stayed in that damned prison. I can't- I don't even know yeh anymore."

  "Well, we are pleased to be free, at least, even if we are most armed by our current situation," said Tissa. "Thank-you, Friend Marci."

  "You're welcome, Tissa," said Marci, gring at the dwarven man who was usually one of the kindest members of the party. He and Tissa hadn't even wanted to kick her out, back during the 'drinking whilst fighting the cave troll' incident, that had been down to Of and (naturally) Anke.

  "Ultimately, what is done, is done," said Of from where he was leaning against her desk, his arms crossed. "Marci meant well. What we need to figure out now is where we go from here."

  He gnced at Marci, a mixture of both disappointment and pity in his gaze, she looked away. She hated that look. It was the same look he'd had when he'd kicked her out of the party.

  "Marci, can you… stop being a Shardkeeper?" asked Of.

  "Hold on now," said Anke, raising a hand. "Obviously, associating with the forces of darkness isn't ideal, but as dearest Of says, what's done is done. It seems to me that with an army of demons at your command, that we could leverage this situation into something quite profitable." She licked her lips. "Just- just think of it. We could send them to raid tombs and crypts, bring back treasure, all while we didn't have to lift a finger."

  Marci stared ftly at the greedy eyed elf, who seemed to be salivating. Gods, but she hated this woman.

  "And why exactly, even if I did that, would I need you for that?" said Marci.

  "I- well, it's my idea!" she spluttered. "And- and I have experience with management you know. I could be very valuable to you, Marci dear."

  "I have no idea if I can disentangle myself from the Shard, that's what I was trying to figure out when I learned that you'd been arrested," said Marci, electing to ignore the elf. "But I've got space now. Time. We're heading north, into the central mountains. We'll hide there while I try and figure a way to separate my soul from the Shard."

  "And then what!?" growled Gillian. "We're Outws! We'll be wanted from Edraine to the western deserts!"

  "I don't know, OK?" said Marci. "I don't know. I'm doing my best!"

  "Bah," said the dwarf.

  "One thing at a time," said Of. "And before anything else…" He sniffed his arm and grimaced. "I need a bath. I assume this fortress of evil has one?"

  "Err, I think the kobolds are still working on the bathhouse," said Marci. "I'll ask them to draw you a tub. I've, um, told the demons that you're my top lieutenants, so they shouldn't bother you. And I've, err, had the kobolds prepare some rooms for you. They should be nice, if a bit… evil themed."

  "Great, in that case, let's get some rest, and come and these problems tomorrow," said Of, putting on his 'leader voice' that he pretended he didn't have. "I know this all looks bad, but it looked worse tomorrow. We'll get through this."

  "Did it look worse?" muttered Gillian, before turning and stomping out of the room without a second gnce.

  Anke and Tissa followed him, but Of hesitated.

  "What, going to tell me off again?" said Marci.

  "No, its…" he said. "Back when- when the Shard was killing you, or… whatever it was doing." He said, staring into Marci's red eyes. "You said something, or… started saying something? I just… what was it?"

  Marci's cheeks began to burn. She had perfect, vivid recollection of that event, and what she'd tried to say before her body had been ripped apart: the words 'I love you.' Part of her wanted to tell him, to confess that breaking up with him was one of the biggest regrets she had, up there with dropping out of her Mastery and falling off the wagon after she'd done so well in her first year of her Bachelor of Arcane Arts to get off the drink.

  But how could she tell him that? He was with Anke, and even if Marci despised the elvish woman, for whatever reason she must have made him happy. And she wouldn't take away that happiness, or threaten it, not when she'd just fuck everything up between them again. She wouldn't let herself ruin his life more than she already had.

  "I think I was, um, just screaming," lied Marci. "I don't remember much of anything. Have… have a good sleep, OK?"

  Of studied her face for several long seconds, before nodding.

  "Alright, you too," he said, before turning and leaving her study with a swish of his long pink tail.

  ***Marci watched though her Shardsense as her friends, and Anke, fell into restless sleep down in the barracks section of the fortress, one of the lower levels above the dungeon where the hero party and the soldiers who had survived the assault upon her battlements had been taken by enthusiastic demons that, as Jonda might have put it, showed 'excellent initiative.'

  She was going to need to find a way to dump them somewhere, although she was hesitant to release the heroes. Not only were they the kind of people who'd just come for her again given the opportunity, and probably had bank accounts and savings to just outright buy new gear and new gryphons, but they also had an enormous amount of intelligence about the fortress, and exactly how weak Marci really was. She had repulsed an attack by an ill-prepared garrison with a limited number of gryphons to get them onto the fortress, but the whole of the Southnds would already be mobilising as aethergraphs spread word of the night's happenings across the continent. A more coordinated, and prepared attack would be far more threatening.

  Which is why she was fleeing northward, heading towards the 'safety' of the bordernds and, perhaps, even into the north itself. She knew that Shardkeepers fought and squabbled over territory in the north, but they might not immediately attack her like anywhere in the south was.

  Marci sighed. She really was not beating the 'on the demon's side' accusations, was she?

  She shook herself and floated into the air from her desk, moving over and beginning to peruse the library, looking for anything that might help her figure out a way to free herself from the Dreadfort.

  She was just flicking through a tome entitled 'Rulers of the Underworld,' which was actually about the 'Infernal Council' that ruled Pandemonium, and was apparently a bit at odds with the Shardkeepers, when she felt Jonda approaching the study.

  "Dark Mistress," said Jonda, bowing low.

  "Mmm?" said Marci, gncing up. "What's wrong?"

  "The demons want to know when they will be paid for the spoils of the battle," said Jonda.

  "Spoils?" said Marci. "What spoils? There weren't any spoils."

  "Well, several soldiers were captured," said Jonda. "Healthy and strong, they'd probably fetch quite a price in Pandemonium."

  Marci blinked at her for a moment, trying to process, they growled when she did. "No one is being ensved!"

  Jonda seemed confused. "But… Dark Mistress," she said. "Why- why did you want them captured if not to ensve them?"

  Marci pinched her nose. "Jonda… just- just, never mind. How much do they want?"

  "Their contracts say that they're entitled to a percentage of the going rate," said the crazed demon cultist elf. "Forty percent, divided amongst those involved."

  "Fine, whatever, take it out of the treasury," said Marci, shaking her head.

  "There is, um, also the matter of general payment," said Jonda. "There are cuses for additional renumeration for taking part in battles, above the standard retainer rate."

  "You can handle that too," said Marci. "Can't you?"

  "Of course, Dark Mistress," said Jonda, smiling widely. "Does this mean I'm your treasurer?"

  "Sure, why not?" said Marci.

  Jonda squealed in glee, bowed so low that Marci was worried she'd start tonguing the floor again, and then raced off.

  The fact that her treasury was slowly dwindling was actually a bit of a problem, and loomed rger and rger in her mind as she tried and failed to focus on her studies. Until she found a way to disentangle her soul, or else she got a lot better at necromancy, she was reliant on demon soldiers to defend herself, which meant that she needed to find a way to generate income.

  Even as she watched, she could feel the amount in her treasury diminishing as Jonda enthusiastically began writing pay slips and handing gold over to the long, rather orderly line of demons excited for a paycheck, as well as several very cantankerous kobolds who seemed to resent the fact that they were getting paid.

  Marci rubbed her face and considered for a moment, before cursing. Was she actually going to have adopt something like Anke's stupid suggestion of setting up demon adventuring… company to raid dungeons and irs?