Galen Aisling Interlude - Gossip and Wagers

This short story is set concurrently with A Practical Guide to Sorcery Book 5, Chapter 253 - "No Way Out." Directly after "Red Guard Pressure." 

Galen 

Month 9, Day 20, Monday 11:00 p.m.

The rain had stopped, but Galen Aisling’s feelings of dread would not go away so easily. Everything had gone smoothly—too smoothly—and he kept finding his fingers drumming a nervous rhythm against the side of his thigh, ready to reach for his battle wand on a moment’s notice.

Analyst Hite walked between him and Agent Holland, scowling and muttering to himself as he jabbed his cane spitefully at the ground with every step. All of it was insults and threatening promises toward the Raven Queen, and every word seemed to raise one more chilled hair on Galen’s back and arms.

The Raven Queen was not submissive, tractable, or patient. Several times during the course of her conversation with Hite, Galen had expected her shadow to rise up in the form of some eldritch horror, or a sudden free-cast spell to send the man’s chest blooming open like a flower, or for him to simply and suddenly drop unconscious, his mind trapped within dreams forever.

Of course, Hite had plenty of prepared protections and was no magical slouch himself, which was likely part of why he felt so over-confident. But the Raven Queen hadn’t even tried anything. She hadn’t even threatened Hite. She had seemed tense, tired, and disgruntled, but had acted almost accommodatingly. This felt very wrong.

Galen shared a look with Holland over the top of Hite’s hunched, oblivious head and knew that they were both thinking the same thing. He looked over his shoulder, searching the corners and alley entrances for strange shadows and glowing eyes. He found nothing abnormal, and though the night was perhaps a little too quiet, the wet cobblestones gleamed rather beautifully under the street lamps.

He had relaxed and turned to face the front again when Holland went absolutely still, their gaze fixed on something above Galen’s left shoulder. His agent generally had an excellent poker face, but now it had slipped, their eyes wide and their mouth pressed tight in obvious fear.

Galen’s heart clenched, his body stiffened, and he turned his head slowly to look at whatever Holland had noticed.

A raven, large, sleek, and with a threatening curve to its large beak, was staring down at him from a tree growing in a small patch of grass by the side of the road. Its eyes were dark and shiny, and it tilted its head to the side mockingly before making a sound that was a mix between the ticking of a clock and the plop of falling water drops.

Galen swallowed, then very slowly bowed toward the raven. He wasn’t frightened, exactly, but it would be a lie to say he wasn’t on edge. Behind him, Holland did the same.

The raven did nothing more, and both sides stared at each other for an uncomfortably long moment.

Analyst Hite had walked on ahead, and only belatedly realized that the other two weren’t following. He turned back and scowled. “What are you doing? Are your heads filled with candy floss?”

The raven launched itself into the air in a sudden, violent flapping of wings, and Galen tensed, ready to protect Hite in case the bird tried to gouge his eyes out or something similar.

But the raven simply flew away, disappearing almost instantly against the backdrop of the night sky.

Though Hite must have seen the raven too, the gnarled man obviously didn’t take it to heart, still glaring at them impatiently.

Galen looked back at the sky and then resumed walking.

Fifteen minutes later and about three blocks from the main field base, Hite was still ranting under his breath about how valuable his research was, and how his genius made him indispensable, when they saw a second raven.

This one was perched on the edge of a roof, and it also watched them curiously as they passed. Galen and Holland shared another silent glance, and then looked at Hite, who had just managed to insult the Raven Queen, threaten her, and imply ownership of her body in a single angry sentence that was definitely loud enough for the raven to hear.

Galen felt that Hite could probably teach a masterclass on making enemies. He had seen the disgust in her eyes when the man tried to touch her, and though Hite notoriously hated those who looked down on him for his disabilities, Galen hadn’t noticed any discomfort in her expression beforehand. It wasn’t Hite’s physical form she disliked, but his character.

Galen wondered how she felt about Hite’s research. Based on the actions of the Undreaming Order, who supposedly followed her tenets, and the fact that she herself had never been known to harm an innocent, she might find human research distasteful. He wasn’t sure if she would believe or be appeased by his hasty clarification that they only used criminals for research. Those criminals were all volunteers who wanted to escape their original sentence, but Galen was sure many of them didn’t actually understand what they were signing up for beforehand. Still, for some of them, escaping execution for even a small chance at life was preferable.

He had long decided that spending too much time agonizing about morality and existential fulfillment was useless, but the notion that the Raven Queen, a notorious outlaw who played by no rules but her own, might look at the Red Guard and find them lacking, find them immoral, gave Galen a strange, awkward feeling in the center of his chest.

A third raven flying over head drew him away from his thoughts. Gilbratha’s raven population had increased a lot recently. Too many people had feeding them, building birdhouses for them, and even taking them for treatment when they were injured or fell ill. Galen had even heard a story of a man finding a mother raven dead beneath its nest and taking the eggs to incubate himself. It had gotten to the point where their annoying cawing and croaking was a constant backdrop. Consequently, seeing three ravens during their walk wasn’t statistically abnormal. And there was no evidence to prove this had anything to do with the Raven Queen. But how could anyone bring themselves to be sure it was a coincidence? Especially with that hungry, expectant way the ravens watched them.

When they arrived at the building on top of the entrance to the base, there were no ravens obviously watching any more, but that didn’t mean their trio was actually unobserved. Still, if the Raven Queen didn’t already know the location of their bases, Galen was sure that she could find out quickly, whether or not they made it easy for her. If she asked, Special Agent Lacer would probably escort her inside himself, with authorization from Galen.

Still, Galen glanced several times at the shadows they cast as they entered the building, wondering if the rumor he’d heard that the Raven Queen could hide within them to spy on people or slip past wards had any basis in truth.

Hite, who had only gotten angrier over the course of their return, stomped off as soon as they made it down into the base proper, most likely going to try and convince Aisling’s superiors to allot him more research subjects. A lot of power and resources were poured into those black sites that remained so secretive. Galen didn’t know for sure, but he believed that Special Agent Lacer had worked in a place like that for a while, during the years when news of him had gone dark, even among the Red Guard. And then, there had been that Aberrant that caused those wild tears between the Planes. Publicly, Lacer had been lauded as a hero for saving all that group of explorers, but internally, he had obviously been punished instead of awarded. Galen suspected Lacer may have born some culpability. The man had always been at least as much of an academic as he was a warrior, and Galen had some small idea of the types of research those blacks sites got up to. He wondered if the Raven Queen knew, too.

Hite knocked his cane into the leg of someone’s chair as he passed, but didn’t even bother to apologize. He was so angry, he might even be hoping their superiors would give him the authorization to bring in the Raven Queen directly. The latter was very unlikely to be approved, Galen knew. Several of his superiors were quite interested in her, and none of them seemed to have any intention to stop her.

Agent Holland let out a long, measured sigh of relief as they watched Hite go. “How likely do you think it is that the Raven Queen will assassinate Hite? I think he’ll be dead by morning.”

“Ah.” Galen paused for a moment to think. “Do you think that’s likely? I agree that she’s the type to retaliate, but…assassination?”

Holland raised their eyebrows. “Do you think she’ll make a big, public spectacle of it instead, then? Toy with him like a cat with a mouse and humiliate him?”

Galen crossed his arms, tapping his fingers rapidly against his elbow. “I don’t know how she’s most likely to respond.”

“But revenge is a given, right? Those ravens tonight were a warning for you and me, otherwise they wouldn’t have been so obvious.”

He had to admit that Holland’s logic seemed reasonable. “Maybe she won’t try to kill Hite.”

Holland tapped one finger thoughtfully against their lower lip. “So…maybe she’ll drive him insane? Peel open his skull and rearrange his thoughts? She does seem like the kind for more ironic payback rather than pure violence.”

Agent Marcurio seemed to have sensed something, and sidled over to them. “What happened? Did Analyst Hite get up to something? I think I heard him say something about the Raven Queen as he walked past.”

Agent Holland, with a deceptively casual air, explained everything that had happened.

Marcurio’s twin tails lashed violently back in forth, his eyes wide with intrigue. He looked to Galen. “Captain Aisling, how likely is it that the Raven Queen will succeed? Who’s stronger, her or Hite?”

Before Galen could answer, both Marcurio and Holland spoke simultaneously, as if the result was obvious. “The Raven Queen.” They shared harmonious looks, as if finding out that the other supported the same sports team.

Marcurio nodded. “She just has too many strange tricks, and she’s too strong and versatile. No matter how much preparation Hite does, he’s just an Analyst.”

“He’s skilled in artificery, and he works with rare and abstract magic, too,” Galen countered. “You should never underestimate an artificer with time and resources to prepare.”

“So you think Hite would win?” Marcurio asked.

Galen hesitated. “Well…”

Marcurio let out a small, amused huff of satisfaction.

As Agent Fike and Berg came through the entryway, on temporary loan from field base three, the three of them sidled away a bit further. Berg’s loud voice drowned out anyone who might have been attempting to eavesdrop as the rowdy young man greeted some of the other agents who didn’t have to put up with him daily, and thus weren’t sick of him.

At Berg’s side, Fike winced and dug one finger into her ear, as if trying to scratch out the sound of his voice.

Though Marcurio would normally have been pleased to see them, and probably questioned Berg about the latest gossip, now he couldn’t be bothered. “So do you want to bet?” Marcurio asked Holland. “I bet Hite dies.”

Holland rolled their eyes. “Am I supposed to bet against that?”

Marcurio realized his error. “I bet he dies in the street, in broad daylight, and it involves her shadow-familiar.”

“Nice! Very specific,” Holland said. “I bet he’s driven insane and lives the rest of his life in gibbering terror.”

“How much?”

Galen stared at his two high-level field agents as they wagered half of their monthly paychecks on the death of another Red Guard member. “Gambling will get you sanctioned,” he reminded them. “It can make you vulnerable to bribery or blackmail.”

Both stopped and looked at him incredulously. “We’re betting amongst ourselves, not losing to some outsider. Besides, it’s only a bit of gold. Who knows if we’ll be around next year to spend it?” Marcurio asked.

Holland peered at Galen suspiciously. “Captain, are you going to report us?”

Galen kept his mouth carefully closed and shook his head. As a captain, it was important to keep the loyalty of his subordinates…and to know when to overlook certain things. The betting was one thing, but he wondered if he should report these suspicions to his superiors. After all, Hite was an asset to the Red Guard, despite his off-putting personality. But Galen had learned long ago that the worst decisions were made by men who believed themselves indispensable, which was why Analyst Hite concerned him. The man was also a potentially unstable element that could cause more trouble than he was worth.

If the Raven Queen did retaliate, Galen hoped it would only be against Hite, and not the Red Guard as a whole. Surely she wasn’t so indiscriminate with her revenge? As long as none of them tried to protect Hite…

Galen frowned at himself. Who would have thought he would ever be seriously considering standing aside as another agent was murdered? His vows shouldn’t have allowed it, but as always with such things, there was room for interpretation, and the well-being of the Red Guard as a whole was more important than the life of any individual agent. Their mission came first.

“What are you whispering so secretively about?” Berg boomed from across the room, moving to join them with a beaming smile.

All three of them hesitated for a bit, but Marcurio leaned over and told him, his tails rising up to block his and Berg’s faces, as if that would do anything but make the other agents more curious. “Keep it quiet,” Marcurio whispered.

Galen wasn’t sure that Terrence Berg was actually capable of long-term silence, but the young man at least tried, leaning forward and whispering back excitedly, “Oh, this is huge! In the grand tradition of terrible ideas, threatening the Raven Queen must rank somewhere between ‘experimenting with planar tears’ and ‘trusting a fey bargain.’ What do you think Special Agent Lacer will do if Hite dies at the Raven Queen’s hand?”

Galen doubted the man would care.

“Well, I want to bet too! But what should I guess? Maybe Hite will just disappear one day. Or she’ll hunt him bit by bit over the course of weeks, leaving clues to scare him and make him paranoid that she could infiltrate and attack at any time, until he goes raving mad and self-destructs. Or maybe he’ll go to sleep and never wake up, trapped in the land of dreams.”

Marcurio snapped his fingers. “That’s a good one. She even sang a creepy song about that. I heard it with my own two ears.”

As Berg continued trying to decide what his bet should be, growing increasingly loud every few sentences in between being reminded to “shush,” Hite returned from the the comms room and bumped into one of the desk agents. He immediately began to berate the poor woman, who cringed back and apologized profusely. Unfortunately, her repeated bows only seemed to anger Hite further. That desk agent was well-liked, and often brought homemade cookies for everyone on duty with her.

Galen was about to walk over and intervene when the woman managed to escape.

Hite glared around at everyone in the room before huffing, muttering something, and leaving for his research quarters. Galen had seen men dig their own graves before, but rarely with such efficiency and enthusiasm as Analyst Hite.

Perhaps there was no need to intervene, after all. Even if he didn’t really believe in it, Galen had always liked the idea of karmic retribution. He turned back to the three agents. “That’s enough. You’re making a scene. Even if you do this kind of thing, you need to be discreet about it. Be circumspect.”

Berg had narrowed his eyes cunningly and motioned to the others to slink away with him when the worst possible person arrived.

Agent Smith manned one of the “face” companies that protected the non-emergency access point above this base, but he had been at it so long that everyone just called him Mike. The man had been stationed there ever since a particularly traumatic incident had killed everyone else on his team and left him raving with paranoia. He’d received treatment, mind-healing, and gotten mostly back to normal, but anyone who had spent more than a few minutes in the presence of his unnaturally shiny, wide smile and twitchy eyes had doubts about his suitability to return to field work.

But his slightly sinister, disturbing mannerisms made him perfect to deter people who might purposefully or accidentally make their way to the entrance.

Unfortunately, he was the last line of defense, and spent most of his work days in complete solitude. Since he had no family or friends outside of the Red Guard, he had grown quite lonely. After he got off duty, he often came down to drink coffee, hang around, and insert himself into people’s conversations.

As soon as Mike learned the situation, he rubbed his palms together in excitement, his creepy, tooth-filled smile growing impossibly larger until his eyes were pinched into happy crescents. “I’ll be the bookie!” he volunteered. “We can’t let Analyst Hite know, so everyone who wants to bet should come visit me at my station in person, and I’ll keep the books hidden in my desk.” This was obviously Mike’s nefarious plan to get people to talk to him.

Galen had to admit that it was an ingenious plan and would almost certainly work. He rubbed his jaw to release some of the tension in it. At this point, further attempts to squash the betting were infeasible and likely pointless. “At the very least, please do not get caught,” he warned them. “I don’t want to have to explain any of this to my superiors.”

Seeing their exaggeratedly innocent expressions, he added, “And if word of this gets out to the Raven Queen, she might take it as a challenge.”

That, at least, cowed them. They weren’t completely desensitized to danger.

Weekly discussion thread on the Alcove: https://alcove.azaleaellis.com/t/discussion-galen-aisling-interlude-gossip-and-wagers/880

We're back! This is technically bonus content for Book 5, A Cauldron of Bitterness, but my next post should be the first chapter of Book 7. That will probably be next Thursday (the 11th), but I've got an appointment with a specialist on that day, and my ability to write has been up and down, so it's possible the first chapter will come out on the 18th instead. I'm aiming for the 11th but I can't control my health, so I don't want to make concrete promises.