“So when can you make the next one?” I asked.
Nicholas was troubled. “You make it sound like such a simple question. Developing medicine is a process of trial and error, and it can’t be done in a day…”
“Enough equivocating.” I wasn’t there to listen to excuses. “I’ve given you the money. I did my part. Now it’s your turn.”
In addition to creating more doses of the antidote, I had him working on a new medicine. This would be more effective than the ones before it. On top of that, he was also working on a pill to curb the symptoms of withdrawal.
Once these were done, there would be no need for nonsense like giving her both poison and antidote at the same time. Arwin would be able to crawl out of the hell she inhabited.
“I’ll do my best,” Nicholas groaned, scratching his nose. “But where did you get so much money…?”
“I found a very lovely patron,” I said. If I told him I’d pilfered it from the mobster’s hidden fortune, it was only going to lead to more trouble. The fewer people who knew a secret, the better.
“…Just don’t do anything that would make her mourn.”
“You got it.”
Just because Nicholas had been a priest didn’t mean I was in the market to listen to his sermons.
“And you be careful out there, too,” I said. The minions of that roundworm sun god were still lurking around the town. “You’re living on the route between this house and the dungeon for the time being. As few trips out as possible.”
“It’s a boring life.”
“If you get horny, call for a girl. There’s a place called Migratory Fish of the Night that’ll send ’em to you. Send a kid to deliver the message, and they’ll show up at your door. But you can only ask for a replacement twice. If you ask for a better one three times, they’ll charge extra, so watch out you don’t—”
“There’ll be no need for that!” Nicholas snapped. His face was a shade of pink.
“Sorry.”
Whenever I saw people who acted like they were great and wise saints, it made me want to tweak their noses. A bad habit of mine.
“Well, I’ll be off now. Keep it up on that antidote.”
“Where are you going?”
“To enjoy myself.”
“Thank you very much. Do come again,” said a fawning voice. A door shut, and I heard water splashing. She was probably washing plates and cups.
I was in the basement of the Golden Stagecoach. It was the room the previous owner had created to listen in on his customers’ private affairs. He had told me about it as thanks for letting him in on my cockfight tips. I would never, ever forget the goonish look on his face when he showed me.
The way in was on the outside, to keep his employees from finding it. Samantha was an outsider; she’d bought the place as-is, so I suspected she hadn’t messed with this little room, and I was right. She probably didn’t even know it existed.
I snuck in hoping to uncover some dirt on Samantha, or anything else that might be disadvantageous to her, but nothing I’d heard so far was useful. My ears were dying with the sounds of wheedling attempts to woo Samantha and midmorning drunks unloading their breakfasts. Just when I was getting sick of it, something happened: Samantha started kicking her customers out. I heard doors and windows shutting. Someone important was coming, no doubt. I didn’t know who it was, but this was surely a chance to learn some secrets about Samantha and that filthy sicko of a sun god.
After a bit of a wait, I heard a door opening.
Here we go. I closed my eyes, focusing harder with my ears.
“Oh, welcome in.” The door closed, and a chair scraped on the floor. “That’s another funny outfit you’ve got on.”
There was no response. They had to be face-to-face across the counter. Had she served a drink? From the footsteps, it was just a single visitor.
“You’ve brought it, I presume?” I heard something heavy drop onto the counter.
“So…the Scissors of Lombardi,” Samantha said, her tone suggesting she was deeply moved.
I heard something sliding around, as though she was examining the item. Did she really get a hold of those legendary scissors? From where?
“I guessed that since they were last seen in this town, someone around here was in possession of them. It seems I was right, then. Well done.”
“……”
The visitor said something, but it was too quiet and muffled for me to make out.
“An ordinary, ignorant person would have no idea of their true value. They wouldn’t even recognize them as scissors.”
What does that mean? Are they disguised as something else? The conversation continued without shedding any light on my questions.
“…Yes, that was a mistake. I’m sorry. But in the end, it was right to keep him dangling like that. It helped us reach what we wanted.”
So they manipulated some idiot into guiding the guest right to the Scissors of Lombardi. Good job, moron. Who would be so dumb?
“But it’s a bit late in coming, isn’t it? You got this seven days ago, didn’t you?” Samantha said, her voice getting sharper. Seven days ago was when we fought Randy the preacher. Had the Scissors of Lombardi really been in that basement room? When did they nab them? I was suddenly rattled.
Meanwhile, Samantha grew even more accusatory. “You weren’t thinking of keeping this to yourself, were you? Or did you have some other goal in mind?”
She acted generous and calm, but deep down, she was the underling of a real piece of shit. Depending on the answer, she would happily cut her partner into pieces.
I waited, wondering how the guest would respond, but then I finally heard a second voice.
“I’m not interested in such a filthy blade. I like swords that look better and cut sharper.”
My mind went blank.
That voice sounded like… But it couldn’t be.
I was stunned. But the conversation went on.
“You mean like that relic?”
“I find a slightly shorter weapon to be easier to use.”
“Are you saying the Holy One’s creations are not to your liking?”
“It’s just a personal preference.”
Despite Samantha’s obvious rebuke, the guest did not seem fazed in the least by the interrogation.
“Plus, how can a god not even know how many floors there are in the Millennium of Midnight Sun?”
“It is another world, where the sun’s light cannot reach.”
“I guess gods have limits, then.”
I heard whistling, the slicing of air.
Silence followed. My guess was that Samantha had pulled a knife on her guest.
“Don’t be angry. It’s because of that great and mighty god that my arm doesn’t work anymore. My dominant arm, too. I should be allowed to gripe a little bit.”
“You’re the one who killed Randy, aren’t you?”
“He was a nobody. He was a scrub who couldn’t go into the dungeon and barely served any purpose,” said the guest, although not with any particular malice. “Honestly, our big galoot would be thousands of times better than him. He’s a degenerate, but at least it means he’s got some tricks up his sleeve.”
I sensed Samantha sighing. Something clunked; she’d probably put the blade on the counter.
“And how about the potential companions?”
“Nothing at all worth mentioning,” the guest said, snorting. “A little bit of discipline, and they all run off squealing and crying. And you want me to go into the dungeon with them? Are you trying to get me killed? Give me someone worth their salt. I need a talented party leader, or a freakishly powerful and honest dwarf, or a guy with a nasty personality, or a guy with a nasty personality…or a guy with a really nasty personality.”
The female guest went on and on, as though she were drunk. Were they putting together a group to go delving into the dungeon? Whatever the case, the guest wasn’t satisfied with them.
“…They cost a fair amount to hire. Four stars each.”
“Let’s try to tack three more stars onto that. We’re almost there. Just a bit more,” she said irresponsibly. If I were in Samantha’s place, I’d be strangling her.
“I’ll put together more candidates. I don’t care how many of them die. But there’s something I want you to do first. The heretics are on the move. I don’t need any interference.”
“Yes, yes, you want me to take care of them in the meantime,” said the guest. A chair scraped as she got to her feet. “So long, then. I’ll see you in about half a month.”
“Send me a message before you show up. And make it earlier in the day, too. I don’t want to have to close up shop after I’ve already opened.”
“Too bad. I’ll be too sleepy.”
“……”
“I’m kidding. That’s fine. Don’t go showing off that drug, please.” The guest chuckled before shuffling away. I didn’t need to see her running away as soon as the going got tough to envision a mental picture.
“Well, so long.”
“Until next time.”
After a brief silence, the two women spoke in unison.
““Sol nia spectus.”” (The sun god sees all.)
It felt like the world wobbled. I got dizzy and put a hand to the wall; it was followed by a loud clatter. I turned around to see that the stick I’d rested against the wall had fallen over.
Instantly, I could sense an icy silence from above.
“…It seems I have a bit of a rat problem.”
I’d given myself away. Immediately, I hurried outside and raced into the middle of the crowd. Again and again, I turned down different streets, and when I was sure I wasn’t being followed, I leaned against a wall and exhaled.
I hoped that what I’d heard was all just some kind of mistake.
But there was no way I’d mistake that voice.
No, we weren’t on good terms. But we’d put our lives on the line for each other and helped each other survive.
At the very least, I thought of her as a companion.
But this…
“Damn, this is pathetic.”