Born a Monster

489 The Scary Malkin

Consider, for a moment, how I had generally been treated by religious figures up until that point. And of what I knew of the Cult of Fire and Pain.

Mind you, I had built up both resistance and tolerance of fear. I could stand before a charging bear, or hold a snarling badger, both with the stress level one associated with picking vegetables out of a garden.

And a Stress Meter of 40 points is slightly above average. Those mechanics didn’t seem to help much.

Add to that the muted silence of the group around us and the equally silent Not-Tigrin.

I think I was right to feel creeped out by Malkin’s sudden transition of smiles. It was slightly wider, slightly more level in the middle, slightly more upturned at the edges.

Crap.

I gave him their version of a salute and bow. “I was unaware that Tigrin had such a patron.”

“He didn’t.” Malkin admitted, “But when I saw him cut low... I just had to take pity on him, you see.”

“I see the things you’ve done for him.” I said, pulling the mana out of my Mystic Vision. Considering what had been done called into question the how, and THAT bit gave me a case of nausea. “Are you powering it on his faith?”

.....

“In part.” Malkin said. “I’m hoping to do the same to your other friend, Mohgson. When I have time.”

Mohgson. I actually didn’t hate Mohgson. I just couldn’t... could I save him? The how of THAT evaded me.

“I’m not sure that Mohgson has the faith to power something like...” I waved a hand in Tigrin’s direction.

He rolled his shoulders forward, which I took to be a form of shrug. “We can only bring the gifts of Loki to the faithful.”

Tigrin scratched his throat where it had been stitched together. “It’s no so bad, Pale Worm, compared to before. I got to see the Olympus of your former gods from the Rainbow Bridge before I was pulled back.”

“I guess praise be to Loki for your return, then.” I said.

“Blessed is Loki,” he replied, “And worship to his daughter, Hela, for her miracles as well.”

“Praise be to Loki.” Malkin said. “And the many gifts he has bestowed upon the true people. Approach, young one, and let me look at your eyes.”

Bigni was busy fiddling with his System; thanks for the guidance, Bigni.

I approached, tried not to wince as he grabbed my jaw roughly and turned my eyes upward for the sun to shine into them. And, I suppose, for him to look at them. I’ve never found my eyes all that interesting. They have a color other than black, way out in the ultraviolet spectrum. For everyone else, they’re black and that’s what I call them.

“How interesting.” he said. “You... are not human.”

“Wait.” Bigni said. “He’s WHAT?”

“Not. Human.” Malkin repeated.

I blinked. “Do you know what I am?” I asked.

Of course he didn’t! All it would have taken was a single person in that mass of six thousand who could see my true race, and I was toast. Possibly quite literally.

“Of course I do.” he said. “And YOU will come to the ceremonial circle, where we shall prove it.”

“Now hold on.” Bigni said. “That slave is property of...”

“Are you about to make a fuss over a mere slave?” Malkin asked.

“Well, not myself, no.” Bigni said. “Captain Brittany Fire-Friend might have words with you over it.”

Malkin chuckled. “Go. You know where to find the ceremonial circle. Bring her, I’ll have some tea ready for her visit.”

To Tigrin, he said. “Guide your young friend, Tigrin.”

“Of course, sir.” he held up a black rod, about half an inch thick and as long as his forearm, capped in silver and quartz. “This is a pain stick. You will follow sir, or I will correct your path as appropriate. Ten paces, no more. The pain will increase as your distance from the inquisitor does.”

He twitched his fingers, and the smallest of lightings danced about the end. “Got it?”

“I won’t make this difficult for you.” I said.

“No difficulty.” Tigrin said. “I like some parts of my job more than others.”

Bigni glared at me, but I waved him off. “I’m terrified, of course. But I’ve survived everything life has thrown at me so far.”

“Are you?” Malkin asked. “Terrified?”

“Figure of speech.” I said. “I’m actually mildly afraid, with a subtone of wary.”

“Most people aren’t aware of their fear level.” he said.

“Pale Worm has a weird System.” Tigrin said. “It’s great at some things, and others ... it’s like the modules didn’t install themselves properly. And the way he describes his System... Sorry, sir, I thought you were inquiring.”

“I was, but I was not asking you for your answer. YOU, tell me your answer.”

I sighed. “My System is picky about how I have to phrase commands to it. And Tigrin is correct, all the modules aren’t installed yet.”

“You have an inventory? A list of your skills? A list of classes you can learn, and the development points needed to unlock them?”

“Yes, yes, yes, and yes, in that order.” I said.

“Why did you just not answer with a yes, and indicate it covered all of the questions?”

“Because I don’t think that way. Therefore I tend not to talk that way, either.”

“But you understand figures of speech?”

I nodded. “I do, I just don’t always use them.”

“Because you are a Truthspeaker?” he asked.

“How did you know that?”

“I told him.” Tigrin said.

“Are you the unholy one?” Malkin asked.

“I am marked enemy of the church by a religion you may or may not have heard of, but I don’t consider myself to be unholy.”

His eyes focused on a point between us. Then he blinked. “You, young one, have clearly fallen asleep in a faywood.”

“Multiple nights, good sir.”

“I thought so.” he said. “Most souls carry no mark, or one of their faith. Yours... it is like those people who have their entire skin covered in tattoos. Nobody survives all the things on the surface of your soul, not without making a legend for themselves. And the blessing of our Lord of the Forge is easily enough tested and proven false.”

Oh, damn. I’d forgotten about that one... actually, had he said anything about MARKING me? I didn’t remember any such discussion.

And why did entities want to write on my SOUL? Didn’t they have System lists like the rest of us? Was there some sort of soul eraser or acid that I could apply to remove them?

But then, there was a gentle reminder in my left side. I yelped, and picked up the pace.

“I like this part of my job.” Tigrin said.

“It shows.” I said. “You do it very well.”

“Thank you.” said Tigrin.

But I made certain he didn’t have to shock me again, which may have been the intent all along.

The ceremonial circle was... well, not circular on the outside. And it was large; about the size of an inner town block. Perhaps three hundred feet across.

“The scale of it.” I whispered. “How do you maintain it, let alone keep it empowered?”

“Ah.” Malkin said. “I see you know something of magic. This is good; I won’t have to tell you not to step on the designs.”

And I tried not to, but honestly they were EVERYWHERE. Sacred hexagons overlapped the edges of spiritual containment circles, overlapped a triangle meant for the removing of curses. It was all just jammed together, some few bits fit together with artisan expertise, and the rest just... like a garbage bin full of partially functional ritual spaces. The whole thing was warded by the outer edge of the design, but the rest might as well have been...

And that’s exactly what it was, I saw. It was a scribble space for the divine. As each of them needed a space, they hijacked or overwrote a design. Some of them were very dark indeed.

My space was a rectangle with runes that inhibited magic inside. Which, yes, would have worried me; had they been drawn correctly, they would have severed me from my mana pools entirely.

“Stand there.” Malkin said, indicating a circle made of colored sand, intended to negate the use of System within it. The winds had scattered the design enough to impede its function, and there was something wrong with the Imbuing Line.

But not all truths need to be spoken. I took my place in the circle.

“Now.” he said. “You have no access to your System, and thus no powers or abilities. How does it feel, to be helpless?”

“Not that much different than normal, to be honest.” I said.

“Good.” he said, as three people in the more common red and orange garments approached. “We will begin the trial soon.”

Out of a NORMAL garden; if your garden causes you the stress levels mentioned, then your garden is nowhere that I want to be. Mind you, I could be there if I needed to be, but... I’m going to shut up now.

The shade that the moth-daughters call thrynn, if it matters. Trust me, my eyes are solid orbs of black.

In fact, I later discovered, the Imbuing Line was working just fine... for the number of things it was set to empower versus the amount of mana being provided to it.