Interlude: Zoe

“…and I am sad to report that we have been having increasing difficulty finding new people along the coast to liberate,” said Jarah, the grey-haired merfolk who was the Chair of the Sapient Emancipation League. “Although our contacts in Laemist say that they haven’t yet figured out how those they have enslaved are vanishing from the coast, they know it is happening. They are keeping a closer eye on those near the beaches.”

“Hmm,” said Ritah, biting her lip with her large front teeth. “Do we have any other ideas? Suggestions?”

Zoe glanced at the three dozen others who now made up the still semi-clandestine Sapient Emancipation League. Well, they were missing a few people—Charlie, for one, who for the last few days had been in the dungeon slogging across desert. They weren’t overdue, and Charlie was almost like a fuzzy, lion-eared Wolverine with their ability to heal themselves, but Zoe still worried for her friend.

The meeting was being held in Laemist, those members who were from Guildport having slipped away and been guided to the wondrous reef city that was mostly battened down for the rainy season, and shown to a subterranean hall lit by slightly ominous glowing blue crystals.

“Other than attacking the plantations?” said Zoe after a moment of silence.

She gestured to the handful of other Guild members who were now part of the League: Saniya, a fellow ‘Outlander’ who was from the future where India was some kind of socialist republic and who was rather quiet; two serpentine-featured beastkin twins with silver insignias called Yamara and Yiri; and a slight, owl-like woman who had some kind of bewitched glass eye that glowed solid blue called Ooma.

“We have a few Guild members now, five, plus Charlie,” continued Zoe.

She understood why the others were being cautious, they didn’t have superpowers—nothing like Zoe’s ability to summon ice and control water, but it was sometimes frustrating that they couldn’t just take the fight to the slavers. She’d always been a bit hot-headed, she knew that, and she was sure that if they kept at it one day the cadre they were building here would be strong enough and organised enough to march on the slave plantations. But it was so frustrating, knowing that there were so many people in chains so close, and that they still had to dance in the shadows.

“The outer plantations are fortified and well-guarded,” said Ritah, her voice cautious but not dismissive. “We would likely need more than just five. With ten, maybe…”

“We could organise a militia,” said Jarah. “To assist them? We might not have mana-cores, but we can still fight.”

“Something to consider,” said Ritah. “But we’ll need to raise capital for weapons, and retreat might be difficult after we strike. The Mercians will pursue us with troops, and while I am sure Zoe and the others can outrun them in the jungle, I’m not sure we can—let alone any men and women and children we liberate.”

“We could approach the Caith for assistance?” said Jarah. “My people still have some relations with them.”

“‘Some relations’ is a generous way of putting it, elder,” said Meria, Charlie’s girlfriend who was almost as cute as the lion-like enby. “We have hardly interacted since the Mercians arrived. And the Caith are usually indiscriminate in who they kill in their raids—dhampir, kobolds, dwarves, or beastkin. They also rebuffed Charlie’s attempt at diplomacy—they’ve always been rigid, you know that.”

“Perhaps we will have more luck?” said Jarah. “It is the rainy season, so the trip won’t be too bad.”

“It’s worth a shot,” said Ritah. “If nothing else, perhaps you can convince them that those in chains are not their enemies, that we were brought here against our will.”

“We shall try,” nodded Jarah.

The meeting continued for almost another half-hour more, working out some of the details of the proposed militia and then voting to ratify the draft, and they didn’t leave for another half an hour after that—their merfolk hosts insisting that they all share a rather nice meal of fish and some kind of rice-like grain that came from seaweed, all wrapped in thin, slightly sweet kelp.

Zoe was the only dhampir present, and a few of the newer members of the League regarded her with some suspicion. It made sense, many of them had been enslaved by people who looked like her, but it still hurt a little. She was sure that she could earn their trust, like she had with many of them already, but it would take time.

Still, she loitered, waiting until the other groups made their way back to Guildport, spaced a little bit apart so as not to draw too much attention. Zoe was pretty sure that Laera knew what they were doing, but she clearly didn’t disapprove, seeing as Ritah was basically her right hand in running the affairs of the Guild now—even if lots of the actual dhampir dismissed her as nothing but a clerk.

“No word on Charlie?” asked Meria, who had been acting as one of the guides to make sure they found their way back to Guildport in the gloom of the dark ocean.

“Not yet, but it’s only been four days,” said Zoe. “They said they might be five.”

Meria hummed and nodded, beckoning for Zoe, Yamara and Yiri, the last of them, to follow her.

“I still don’t like it,” said Meria, leisurely kicking her feet to keep pace with them. “I wish they didn’t delve. They’re a doctor—they could just… they could just do that as a job!”

“Charlie finances, like, a quarter of the League by themselves,” said Zoe. “They couldn’t do that as a doctor. We all have to take risks for the movement; Charlie knows that.”

Meria made a face at her.

“Sorry,” said Zoe, somewhat sheepishly, realising that probably hadn’t been the right thing to say. Meria wasn’t looking for a stump speech, she was looking for reassurance. “I, um, I guess it’s hard having a partner who—”

“—goes into a hole in the ground I’m never sure they’ll come out of?” said Meria. “Yes, it is.”

Zoe cleared her throat. “Sorry.”

Meria waved a hand. “It’s OK,” she said. “They wouldn’t be my Charlie if they didn’t think more or less the same.” She paused. “Although, I think they might be addicted to it. To the rush; although they deny it.”

“There have been several theorists who have suggested similar ideas,” said Yiri, the female serpentine twin.

“Anecdotally, we believe they are correct,” continued Yamara, doing the weird ‘speaking together’ thing that the pair often did which Zoe honestly found a bit creepy—even if otherwise she liked the twins.

“We cannot imagine life without delving,” said Yiri.

“It makes us feel alive,” said Yamara.

“Even if it gets you killed?” said Meria.

“Even if it gets us killed,” said Yiri.

Meria glared at them, an action that seemingly had precisely zero effect on the pair, who swam on, their faces calm in the light of their conjured warelights.

“Charlie’s tough,” said Zoe, trying to reassure the merfolk woman. “Really tough—they’re like, telepathic and can heal basically anything.”

“And if they were delving just where other people had already been, and where everything was known, that might be reassuring,” said Meria. “Instead of insisting on being at the bleeding edge of the exploration. Or, well, Velevir insisting.”

Zoe wasn’t sure how to respond to that, so instead swam on.

“Sorry, I’m just worried,” said Meria as beneath them the sandy bottom began to grow shallower and they approached the beach. “I shouldn’t take it out on you. And I knew that this would be how things were when we started dating…” She sighed. “I just worry; don’t mind me.”

It was raining as they emerged from the gentle swell, and Zoe shivered as a relatively cold-by-Guildport standards wind lashed at her. Yamara and Yiri seemed totally unaffected, but Meria said her goodbyes quickly before diving back under the relatively warmer and wind-free waves.

Up above them, behind rebuilt and reinforced walls, Guildport’s lights glimmered in the black night like a twinkling blanket hugging the bluff. There were Guild-members on duty at the reinforced gate, and a few people moving around in the small tent-city that was still where Zoe called home. The Guildhall was being expanded, but she hadn’t gotten in early enough. Silvers like Yamara and Yiri got bumped up the waiting list too, so Zoe was still in a tent.

Thankfully, it was a slightly magical tent, and now sat on a raised wooden platform to keep it properly dry. It was close but not too close to the latrines, and had a nice view out over the wall and the jungle. She had to stoop a little anywhere but the centre, but she’d gotten used to it, and had even furnished it with a chair and desk covered in journals and with a small vase with flowers from Swithin. There was also a small bespelled bowl that produced a flame to heat tea, and a chest for her clothes and miscellaneous belongings. It was a far cry from the relative luxury of her shared apartment back in Stockholm, but it already felt like home.

Charlie talked about ‘getting back to Earth,’ but Zoe wasn’t really sure she believed that was possible—part of her thought Saniya’s theory that this was reincarnation was more on the money: that they’d all died and just didn’t remember it. Certainly, she couldn’t recall what she had been doing immediately before coming here—no one could.

And even if it were possible to go back, although she’d had friends and comrades on Earth that she’d like to see, she had friends and comrades here too—as well as a body that didn’t make her depressed to look at in the mirror.

More than that, her life here felt, usually, good. The work she was doing here was important, with the League and with the writing she was doing to try and give Alaria the political theory she had spent so many evenings learning about. She felt like she could do more on this world than she could on Earth, could have more of a positive impact. Also, she, for the first time in her life, had money—more than enough to buy what luxuries existed here: to eat out for every meal, to order fancy clothes from the tailor or jewellery from the goldsmith and still have enough money to give to causes she believed in and her less fortunate neighbours around her.

And more than that, she had started to enjoy going into the dungeon with her fellows which… well, that probably lent credence to Yamara and Yiri’s suggestion that dungeon delving was addictive. But well, dammit, it just felt good to be a frost-wizard: natural; right; if one could forgive her for such puns, cool, even.

If Charlie emerged from the dungeon tomorrow and said they had a way back, would Zoe take it? Maybe; but she couldn’t say for sure.

The rain grew louder on the bespelled canvas above her head as she peeled off her wet clothes, towelled herself off, and then fell into the hammock that was slung between two rigid posts. She was asleep almost a moment later, and dreamed of swirling oceans, dim dungeons, and shattering chains.

A.N. Patreon, other stories in my profile.