Vigor Mortis

Chapter 7: Living Blasphemy

Rowan-hunting, thankfully, is way easier than Lyn-hunting. His scamming zone from yesterday was ruined thanks to that Templar, but he has a set few spots where he is likely to be. Busy streets are a must to draw large crowds, and they need to have enough space for him to set up without getting in the way of any established shops. I have a good guess on where he’ll be today, based on his normal site rotation patterns. Sure enough, I find him on the first try.

“Oooh, nice try ma’am, but as you can see… it was here all along! Better luck next time!”

I smile a little, approaching behind Rowan and giving him a light pat.

“Woah! Stay to the front of the— oh, Vita! Hey there, kiddo! Things going okay?”

I nod.

“Good to hear. You need something, or you here to help?”

Hmm… well, I should help. And it’s not like my questions are super urgent.

“Both,” I murmur. He smiles wider.

“Fantastic! All right folks, now that my lovely assistant is here…!”

I work the con with him for a while, trying to be as attentive as possible. I want to get better at helping Rowan, but I also noticed something the other day that I want to pay extra-close attention to.

Rowan is making a pretty significant amount of money.

I’m not great with money. It’s not like I’ve ever had much cause to learn about it. I know the engraved-chitin chips people call ‘coins’ are made by the government somewhere in Skyhope, formed from the shed shells of some kind of domesticated monster. The designs are super complicated, and if I tried to make fake ones I’d have the city’s best guards all up my ass before I could say ‘investment fraud’, whatever that is. But I know a bit about how much things cost and it looks like Rowan could buy… a lot more food than he actually does.

So why doesn’t he?

I keep those thoughts to myself for now, wiling away the hours as Rowan’s assistant. It goes wonderfully, in fact, until a familiar helmet appears.

…Why is that Templar back? We’re in a completely different part of the city! He starts walking my way again, too! Oh god, am I found out? Can he see the soul I have stored away? Oh shit, that’s it! I’m going to die!

The Templar gets in line to play the game Rowan is running. He just… waits, like any other patron. I give Rowan a concerned look. He mouths the words “I have no fucking idea” at me.

This is happening, I guess!

Rowan immediately swaps the game back to cups so I’m not involved with it personally, thank goodness. Sitting next to him, I try to look even smaller than usual. Time ticks by slowly until the Templar finally, eventually, is next in line.

“Three games, please,” he rumbles, passing Rowan the cost for exactly that.

“Yes sir,” Rowan says pleasantly, flourishing the cups. Behind his helmet, the Templar’s face is unreadable.

Rowan starts the game, doing his first run with no tricks, just fast movement. The Templar tracks the ball without trouble, correctly identifying the cup.

“Good eye, sir! I always wondered if it’s hard to see out of those visors of yours.”

“It can be, unfortunately,” the Templar answers easily. “The way they cut peripheral vision is not to my liking, but it is better than taking an arrow to the face.”

Rowan chuckles, starting the second game. I watch him weave an illusion for this one, flicking his fingers in magical patterns under the table to fake a single pass of the cup.

“I have to admit, sir, I’m surprised to see a noble Templar such as yourself at my humble stall. An honor, to be sure, but certainly a surprise.”

Rowan’s words are easy and natural. He has the perfect poker face on, while I’m barely managing to not sweat enough to create a pool. The Templar guesses the correct cup again, utterly unfazed by the illusion.

“Truth be told, this is not the sort of game or business I care for,” the Templar says. “But nonetheless it was not my intention to deprive you of your income, yesterday. I should have approached you more discreetly. I apologize.”

Rowan grins, and not even I can tell if it’s fake or genuine. The third round begins.

“Well sir, if your goal is to avoid depriving me of my income, you’re gonna have to stop guessing all these balls correctly.”

“Mmm. Well, that is the nature of the game, is it not? It is a test of perception and skill.”

“Right you are, sir,” Rowan agrees.

From behind the table, I see the ball rapidly pass from the cup to his hand, then from his hand into another cup in a single, fluid motion. No magic, just a simple, skillful cheat. This time, the Templar guesses wrong, and a delighted Rowan lifts all the cups to prove it.

“Hmm,” the Templar murmurs. “Well done. I did not see that. Your mastery of your craft is impressive, young man. I have to say though, I think it is a waste of your talent. You could do much more than this.”

Rowan shrugs, still smiling.

“Unless that’s a job offer, sir, there’s not much more I can do for now.”

The Templar sits forward.

“And if it is?”

Silence hangs over the table, Rowan looking genuinely dumbfounded for once.

“…I’d have to think about it,” is all he manages to say.

“Please do,” the Templar says, nodding politely. He holds out a hand, which Rowan takes into a firm shake.

“And you take care too, little miss,” he continues, holding his hand out to me as well.

Instinctively, I pull back, shying away. I don’t know what Templars can do. Touching that hand might be the end of me. I have a stolen human soul inside my body. I latch onto Rowan, hugging him and burrowing my face into his side like a frightened child. Actually being frightened for my life probably helps sell it.

“Sorry,” Rowan says apologetically, patting the top of my head. “She’s shy.”

The Templar sighs, sounding a bit dejected at the prospect of being so scary.

“Well,” he says, setting the palm he held out down on the table. “This is for her. Make sure you get her something good to eat, young man.”

His hand lifts, revealing a rather large coin.

“…Will do, sir,” Rowan says cautiously.

The Templar nods and wanders off. I make sure to keep hugging Rowan until he’s long gone. As a strategic maneuver, of course. Not because Rowan is warm and I like it. And not because his soul is pretty, either!

…Yeah, okay, it was all those things. I don’t exactly get a lot of hugs. I’m going to savor this one while I can. Plus, Rowan’s rainbow swirl soul is just delectable.

“Well kiddo, looks like you just got your first tip,” Rowan eventually murmurs. “I think now’s a good time to pack up for the day.”

“Yeah,” I agree.

The two of us do just that, gathering Rowan’s props and making our way back to the hideout. He’s abnormally quiet the whole time, though I certainly don’t mind. The only things left for me to talk about are best done somewhere private.

On the way home (it’s so weird to have a home, as pathetic as mine is) Rowan uses the coin the Templar gave me to buy food. Enough food for all of the orphans, with change! It’s going to be another well-fed day, apparently. Two in a row was almost unheard of.

I return to the shack and help hand out the meals. There’s no cheering or weeping for the bountiful harvest, only ravenous mouths trying to survive. Yet while they don’t show it, I know they’re grateful. I was just like them a few weeks ago, and not really all that different now. With dinner served, Rowan and I retreat to the hidey-hole below. He takes a glass and fills it with water from a bucket, sipping lightly before speaking.

“All right, kid. What did you wanna talk about?”

Many things, but instead of saying them I blurt:

“I like your soul.”

Rowan spit-takes, saliva and water showering the area around me.

“W-what?”

“It’s, um, cute,” I clarify, face rapidly turning red. “And pretty. It feels like a rainbow that moves. A-and it’s big! Not as big as Lyn’s, but m-much bigger than, um…”

I peter off, my words dying under Rowan’s concerned gaze. Why the hell did I say all of that?

“You’re, uh, really taking to this, huh?” Rowan murmurs, daring to sip a bit more water.

“L-Lyn said I should use it. It’s part of who I am. And, um, I don’t think I can not feel people’s souls when I touch them. It just… happens.”

He nods slowly, setting his glass on a nearby table.

“Ah. Okay. That makes sense. You awakened to an extra set of perceptions, then? That must be interesting. I guess… I’ll just take the compliment, then.”

I nod, smiling.

“Are you gonna take the job?”

He frowns, tilting his chair back.

“Well, that’s the thing, kiddo. For the life of me, I can’t figure out what the fuck the job even is. What could a Templar want from a half-baked kynamancer that runs street cons? They’ve gotta have way better mages than me. And that bribe? I dunno, it smells fishy to me.”

“M’not a kiddo,” I insist.

“Right, right. Anyway, Vita, didn’t you have something to say about you?”

I nod as he picks up his cup for another drink.

“I think the Mistwatcher ate part of my soul last night.”

Once again, that drink ends up on my face. Rowan chokes and pounds on his sternum as I try to wipe myself dry.

“Please stop doing that,” I request. “It’s not easy to get all that water.”

“Stop… saying crazy shit, then! The Mistwatcher ate your soul?”

“Just a little bit of it. I took a sliver out and put it in Rosco. My, um, stuffed bird? And it worked! He could move around and give me hugs. But then, in the middle of the night, something…”

Something infinite and uncaring passed over me, dripping unimagined dreams and oozing undreamt realities. It could not touch but it touched me anyway, caressing me absently as it stole, murdered, devoured some little shard, ignoring my mute, uncomprehending terror…

“…took it.”

Rowan frowned.

“And you think this thing was the Mistwatcher? Why?”

I hug myself tightly.

“…What else could it be?”

Rowan nods slowly.

“…Any number of things we don’t know about. But if something grabs wayward bits of soul, that would at least explain why the whole damn island isn’t covered in soul-stuff from dead rats.”

I frown, thinking.

“…Yeah. But nothing ate Grig. Um, except me I mean. And I had him for longer!”

Rowan’s smile strained. Whoops, I’m talking casually about soul-murder again.

“Well… maybe it just eats at night? …No, that doesn’t make sense. If that were the case, naturally-formed zombies would die at night. Could it be the materials? There aren’t any like… soul-controlled puppets that occur naturally, but you can find zombies at pretty much any battleground.”

I frown, nodding.

“…Using dead bodies feels better, too. I just wanted to hug Rosco.”

Rowan’s smile becomes outright pained. Shit, was it the dead bodies thing? He tries to hide it with a drink of water, but his perfect poker face from the game seems to fail on the subject of… me.

“Sorry,” I murmur. “I’m kinda… getting used to this really fast, I guess.”

“Yeah,” Rowan sighs. “Well, it feels good to do things we’re good at. I can imagine how excited you are to have something special about you, that only you can do. But try not to forget, Vita: you are a death mage. You can’t take power like that lightly. I will help you as much as I can, Vita. I promise. But I need you to promise me not to lose your humanity along the way. Okay?”

That’s easier said than done, Rowan. I’m already a living blasphemy, doesn’t that disqualify me by default?

“I might need some help with that,” I blurt, trying to push down tears. It was such a hard thing to say, for some reason.

“I feel like I’m almost a totally different person lately. Everything before now is just an awful blur. Starving day after day, barely surviving, being nobody, but now… now I can just kill people. I-I ran into these two murderers today. Just… standing over a body. I th-thought they were gonna kill me too.”

I look up at him, terrified. His face is serious, but he’s listening.

“So I decided to kill them first. I planned it. They didn’t attack, but if they had I would have ripped one apart and made him kill his friend. I think… they tried to recruit me after that.”

A long silence stretches between the two of us. Rowan takes another drink of water.

“You’re way too young for all this, kid,” he says.

“M’not a kid,” I answer, scowling.

“…Yeah,” Rowan agrees. “Maybe not.”

Overhead, the familiar pitter-patter sound of rain begins.

“Aw shit, is the Mist Thimble here already? We gotta go board up, Vita. Come on.”

I nod, following Rowan up the ladder.

“…And Vita? We’ll help with all that for sure. Lyn and I are in this with you all the way. But you have to decide the person you want to be, yeah?”

“Yeah,” I agree. “Okay, Rowan.”

With the kids working together, it doesn’t take us long to seal the shack for rain. Nighttime now fallen, everyone gets into bed to sleep. Lyn, however, is oddly absent. Not returning before dark was odd for her, and I can’t help but worry. On the bright side, at least the Mistwatcher didn’t come back tonight.

I know this for sure, because I didn’t sleep a single second.