Jasson was brave. It's easy to be brave with Grog behind you. You get the feeling that you have the world on your side. Or, at least, the nine-feet-tall armor-clad portion of the world that mattered.
The fact that Grog had to practically crawl to fit into the opening was not a large factor at the moment. It did, however, grow in importance as the tunnel shrunk. Once Jasson himself had to stoop over, the grinding started.
After the suit started grinding on the walls, Grog said, "Sorry, boy. This armor won't let me in. I need to go back and get it off where I can stand up properly. I'll only be away for a few minutes. You can come with me."
Jasson hesitated, then gripped the pistol tighter and said, "I'll keep going then. I don't want him to slip away."
"He'll be already gone," Grog said, "Bag packed and ready to go. Be careful, he might have left traps."
Jasson nodded and pushed on. Petra had been teaching him to see earth magic traps. He should be fine.
His ears were ringing from his earlier gunshots, and now that he was by himself it occurred to Jasson that he should have put in his earplugs. Jasson unslung his bag and dug out the sack of earplugs. He fished a couple out and rolled them between gritty bloodstained fingers. Something in him was too tired to care as he jammed them in his ears. He could heal himself back up when he felt better, but he might need to hear something in the meantime.
Jasson pressed on, ducking lower as the passage tightened and twisted even more. What was the point of this corridor being so long? It didn't even look like the sewers anymore.
The tunnel ended in a flat wall with metal rungs fixed into a ladder. Twenty feet up was a ledge. And a light. And the sound of singing.
"I am going far away," the voice sung poorly, "To a land of fruits every day. I am going to have no truck in the home of the haaammock! Oooh…something, something, something, CAROVINE! Oooh…"
Jasson climbed the ladder carefully with one hand, checking for traps and making as little noise as possible. He held the pistol in the other, finger off of the trigger. Itching.
Jasson thought, Block this you (*&%^ $&*^!
Jasson crested the ladder. There were crude guardrails along the ledge. The raincoat hung on a peg, dripping occasionally. The man was rushing back and forth, cramming a large bag full of papers and supplies. He sung distractedly, and Jasson aimed the gun at the man's back. Then Jasson climbed up and stepped out to face the man.
The man stiffened and turned, freezing when he saw Jasson, eyes fixed on the gun in confusion. The man looked at Jasson and seemed to come to the conclusion that the mystery metal tube wasn't a friendly gesture.
"You're packing?" Jasson said, "Really? I thought that you'd be gone already."
"Well, you know how it is," The man said, "I just kept putting it off. I did manage to get my laundry done, although my shirt smells like burnt troll, thanks to you."
"You released an army of monsters on the city," Jasson said, "And you just…didn't make packing a priority?"
The man shrugged and said, "I have a problem. Speaking of problems…what now? Gonna take me in? Put me under arrest?"
"My friend was the policeman," Jasson said, feeling a vein twitch, "Your monster killed him."
"Ah," The man said, eyes flitting to the side, "But you haven't done anything yet. Revenge is one thing, but murder is another."
Jasson froze. The thought he'd been avoiding presenting itself like an ex at a wedding. This was a man, not a monster. Could he kill a man? When he had the upper hand?
"Come on," the man smiled, "Do something. If this isn't a bluff, then put me down."
But he didn't really have the upper hand. Jasson's heart hammered, terror flooding through him. This man had several inches on Jasson, and probably wielded magic beyond Jasson's knowledge. The man didn't know how fast a gun could kill. He could try anything. Would the gun even work? Jasson was moments from death if he didn't act now.
"You don't have the guts." The man reached into his coat, "And for that I'll-"
BANG!
Jasson nearly dropped the gun as the man dropped to the ground. Then started screaming.
"AAAAH!" The man said, "WHAT WAS THAT?! OOH! IT HURTS SO MUCH."
"Then don't move," Jasson said, "Or I'll shoot you again."
"What did you say?" The man said, "My ears are ringing."
Then, in a flash of red light, the man sprung to his feet and lunged for Jasson. Jasson stumbled back and the man grabbed the gun, hand over the barrel, but didn't move it aside.
The man said, "Hah! Now that I have your magical device, it won't know who to obey! Now-"
BANG!
"AAAAAAAAAH!" The man fell back, clutching his hand, "OOOOH!!!! THAT'S SO MUCH WORSE! WHY IS IT WORSE?!"
Jasson gritted his teeth and walked up. The man was thrashing wildly, but stilled as Jasson jammed the gun into the man's leg, and said "Don't move. You still can hear me, if barely. Even if you can't, I think you still get the message."
The man stopped squirming and whimpered, holding his bleeding hand.
"If you heal again," Jasson said, "I'll obliterate your shinbone. I hear that that's really painful. Now, who are you? And who are you working for."
"(*&^% YOU!" the man said, holding his wound, "That should have worked! How?!"
Jasson sighed and said, "Who knows. But the important thing is that I can do it several more times. Maybe you can outheal me. But is it worth the agony?"
The man shook his head and said, "I'll talk, but only if you accept that I will have to avoid certain questions."
"Really?" Jasson said, "You're bargaining to avoid certain points of interrogation?"
"I have to," The man said, "It's either seal my lips in this life or be stitched for the next."
"All right," Jasson conceded, "Better some info than none."
Jasson paused and said, as casually as he could, "Let's just list those off really quick so we can avoid that hassle. I hear that the shin-bone is excruciating to break."
"You said that already," The man hissed and clutched the wound in his shoulder, "My conditions are: no questions about our activities in the capital. Or with the Mench. Absolutely no questions about the location of our home base, nor how we source or breed monsters. And…uh…don't…no, you can ask questions about the other cities. Those customers didn't pay us enough. Now, anything else…"
The man tapped his chin, then his eyes lit up as he said, "OH! And no questions about dreams. Got it?"
"I got it," Jasson said, then laughed, "And wouldn't you know it! Now all I think about is asking those questions. Do you have any suggestions?"
"Well," the man rubbed his beard stubble, "You probably want to know about the dragon attacking the castle right now. Nasty thing. Took months to set it up properly. No details about that setup process, mind you."
Jasson raised his eyebrows. A dragon? Attacking the ball? Petra and Clara were up there, probably unarmed. He should hurry-
But what can I do? Jasson thought. I'm dying here. Figuratively. I can't even heal myself anymore.
I need a nap.
A sudden wave of lethargy slammed into Jasson's heart and dripped through his legs. A familiar feeling. He wasn't just tapped out physically and magically. He didn't even have the umph to ask the next question. Jasson stabilized himself as he started to tip forward.
"Oh!" The man said, sweating as Jasson leaned into the gun, "I- uh. I can tell you about our last big job! The Golden shield castle! It's a wasteland right now, but I can tell you how to get the place back. I'd bet you that the daughters of that house will reward you handsomely for this info. They probably have so much gold stuffed in their lockers! Last sighting of them was in the Aka'ala mountains, but if you advertised that you knew-"
"Did you hurt them?" Jasson said, cold, sharp, focusing into his trigger finger. The gloom surrounded, threatening. Drowning. But this was pressing.
"Hurt them?" the man scoffed, "What do you take me for? A bandit? We build homes for monsters and then let them do the dirty work. I did hear that the boss went in person, but I was on the control committee that…sent the…"
If Jasson was feeling better, he would have growled. Instead he scowled and felt his finger twitch.
The man waved his hands and said, "Now hold on. Those twins won't give you a bigger reward for bringing in my head without the attached body. I was a nobody. Just following orders. They'd prefer the knowledge I have, not vengeance."
Jasson uttered what could be a growl but more like a gurgle, and said, "Then talk."
"Okay!" the man said, "I can only tell you about this because the job is done, alright?"
Jasson dug the gun in and itched at the trigger.
"Okay, kay, kay." The man said, "So, the castle was a hard nut to crack, or so I hear. I wasn't really there. We did the normal breeding stuff, but the bosses knew that those wouldn't be enough. Then we found a nearby ley line. Not fantastic, but enough for use to route through to- well, I can't say more about that. But ley line manipulation is widely known enough that it's not a trade secret. If you have a map, I can mark where the tunnel entrance is."
Jasson shook his head before Grog's voice rumbled behind him, "I have a map."
Jasson glanced behind him. The man kicked aside the gun. Jasson pulled the trigger. The hammer just clicked. Red flashed. The man scrambled to the other end of the room. Grog lunged after him. The man attempted to dodge. Grog caught him by the back of his shirt.
The man struggled, picking up a bag as Grog hefted him.
"Now, don't go leaving without that location." Grog said, "Or we'll be left feeling incomplete."
"&^%$# YOU!" The man screamed, "I could have gotten away from the kid. Why are you here! You should be fighting the Basilisk!"
"I did," Grog grinned, revealing his massive, tombstone teeth, "And I hear marvelous things happen if you eat one. Now, here's a map."
Grog fished around in his locker and produced an enormous map. He plopped on the floor and spread it out with one hand. Grog dangled the man over the map. Like a divining plum-bob begrudgingly growling 'left' or 'up'.
"Perfect," the man said, "now, can you set me down please? I can't run."
Grog set the man down, and Jasson looked at him in a daze. The man had covertly put the bag he'd grabbed around his feet so that the bag hit the floor first. Then the man kept going, but the bag stayed in place.
"There you go," Grog was rubbing his beard as he looked at the map, "Glad you know you can't run. I'm Guild master Grog after all. You'd have to be c- hey. Where'd he go?"
Jasson pointed mutely to the bag, which closed its own flap and locked itself with a click.
"Oh, well." Grog said, "I guess that it happens to the best of them. Now, boy, tell me everything else he said. Word for word."
Jasson let his arm drop, and he looked up into Grog's eyes and said, "No."
Grog paused for a moment, then placed a gentle hand on Jasson's back.
"Fair enough, boy." Grog said, "And healing won't make it any better. Let's get you home."
End of Arc 3: Dance