“Because it is?” She grinned at him mockingly. “How about I slip past them and scout deeper?”
“I don’t know. You don’t travel that far with each hop. They might sense you and give chase.”
“I could evade them with ease.”
“That’s not the point. Again, if we stir things up here, we might have to give awkward explanations up top. Let’s try asking questions first.”
“And if they want to know why we’re asking?”
Scorio shrugged. “I’m curious about how the Fury Spires work. We went exploring, and ran into a forbidden area. Who wouldn’t ask?”
“Fair enough.” Naomi turned to walk back the way they’d come. “And if we get stonewalled, we can force Jaks to tell us everything she knows.”
“That’s the attitude,” grinned Scorio.
They ascended once more, taking their time, and entered the clusters level at a random access point.
“Should we ask Lianshi and Leonis?” asked Naomi.
Scorio hesitated.
“What?”
“I’d rather not.”
Naomi frowned at him. “Not what I expected you to say.”
“I don’t know.” He shrugged irritably. “They’re not our old friends. And each time we gain a half-measure from them, it only tears open the old wounds. I’d rather… whatever. We can ask them if you prefer.”
“It’s fine with me either way.” But then she stepped in close and took hold of his arm. “I think I understand. It’s… hard.”
“Yeah.” He glanced down, wrestling with the pain that reared its ugly head even now, then smiled gratefully at her. “But thanks.”
She just nodded as they kept walking, but didn’t release his arm.
A black-haired young man crossed through their tunnel ahead, a cheroot hanging limply from his lips, its tip ashed. He did a double-take as momentum carried him out of sight, then backpedaled into view. “Hey, what are you guys doing here? Lost?”
“Hmm?” Scorio frowned at him, blinked, then shook his head and kept walking.
“Seriously,” said the kid, “you guys lost?”
Scorio slowed, uneasy, frowned at the stranger then stared through him and kept walking.
“No, I get it. It’s fine. You could even say I’m used to it.” The kid started walking backwards alongside them. “The name’s Alain. Not that having a name means much when folks tend to stare right through you. Hey, I really like those big claws of yours. Scary stuff. And Naomi? That Nightmare Lady form? Whoo.” He shivered violently.
Naomi stopped, scowled, and pressed the base of her palm against her temple.
“There you go,” said the kid. He sucked powerfully on his cheroot, causing its tip to burn cherry red, then blew a plume of smoke up at the tunnel’s ceiling. “Focus, focus, focus. Would it help if I dropped my pants? Hello - hello - hello, can you see me?”
“What the…” Naomi blinked rapidly and squinted. “Who the hell are you?”
“There we go!” Alain spread his arms. “Now, keep your eyes on me, alright? If you look away I’ll disappear again.”
“Naomi?” Scorio stared at her in confusion. “Why are you… talking to this… wait.”
“Mmhmm,” said Alain, taking another drag on his cheroot. “Here I am. Did you catch my name? It rhymes with ‘Alain’. Because it is Alain.”
“Where did you come from?” demanded Naomi, pulling away from Scorio and rounding on the kid.
Scorio brought his focus to bear and then his eyes widened and he took a startled step back. It wasn’t that the kid had suddenly appeared; he’d clearly been there all along, but in the same way that any stretch of the hallway was both there and easily overlooked. He’d simply not merited attention.
“Hey, listen, don’t get violent.” Alain took a few swift steps back. “Don’t get mad at me because you’re oblivious.”
“You’re using a power on us,” said Naomi, tone dangerous. “Drop it.”
“I can’t.” Alain took another nervous drag from his cheroot then scowled at what was left between his fingers. “Believe you me, I’d turn this off if I could. You think it’s good for my self-esteem to be ignored by everyone but the Dread Vaults and up? And even they get headaches if they try to talk to me for too long.”
“Alain.” Scorio forced himself to remain focused on the young man. “Your power’s like Amity’s, then? Always on?”
“We’ve got a winner,” said the kid, flashing a nervous grin. “I tried talking to you both earlier, but it didn’t take. I’m actually surprised it’s only taken three or four interactions for you to break my veil. Usually it either takes much longer or my spending hours blathering at people before they notice me.”
“That does sound bad,” said Scorio.
“You’ve no idea. In Bastion?” Alain took another drag and then flicked the cheroot away. “I couldn’t get regular folks on the street to notice me no matter what. All sorts of moral quandaries, you know? The temptation to just steal stuff was pretty strong. I mean.” He blew out the smoke. “I wish I was made of sterner moral stuff, but overall I didn’t steal too much, all things considered.”
“What do you want?” demanded Naomi.
“The Iron Tyrant can see me just fine. I think he finds my situation amusing, which tells you all you need to know about him.” Alain crossed his arms over his badly faded black robes. “Anyway, he’s been treating me like his personal spy army. Go watch this person and see who they talk to. Go find out what this person thinks about this Charnel Duke, or whatever.”
“And you do what you’re told?” asked Naomi.
Alain shrugged. “Sometimes. It keeps me busy, at any rate. Oh, don’t look at me like that. You think I’m proud? You don’t know what it’s like to be ignored all the time. It’s boring. Can’t talk to anyone, can’t go on patrols, can’t make friends. The only thing that’s left is training, but the more powerful I become, the more people forget me. I’m telling you, being a Great Soul is the worst.”
Naomi raised an eyebrow. “I think I might know more about your situation than you think.”
“And you have my condolences,” said Scorio, “but you still haven’t told us what you want. Or was it just conversation?”
“Conversation is nice. Again, color me surprised that you’re able to keep me in mind this long. Given how you trashed Jaks and Dakshina - which was beautiful, by the way. Dakshina thinks the secrets to becoming an Imperator reside way up her ass… wait. What was I saying? Oh, right. Conversation’s great, but the Iron Tyrant told me to watch you both. Thought you should know.”
“Did he now?” asked Scorio.
“And why are you telling us?” asked Naomi.
“Why?” Alain opened a pouch at his hip and drew out a small rectangle of paper. “Because he treats me like a dog. Alain, do this. Alain, go spend all night doing that. Does he ask me if I want to? No.” He then drew a pinch of twisted black fibers from the same pouch and sprinkled them down the length of the paper. “Once he insisted I find out whether this lady was actually enjoying her relationship with this other guy.” He arched a dark brow suggestively. “If you know what I mean. I had to sit there and watch, and then decide if she was faking it or not. Urgh.” He shook his shoulders and then set to twisting the paper into a cheroot. “Which, don’t get me wrong, earlier on, weird times, not healthy, but I’ve made a concerted effort to stop that kind of stuff, but do you think he cares about my wellbeing? Nope.”
“Way too much information,” said Naomi.
“So you’re telling us this because you don’t like the Iron Tyrant?”
“Yeah. And like I said, it’s lonely. You two seem… interesting? Different? Murderously appealing? So I thought I’d say hello and tell you the Iron Tyrant’s fixated on you.” He shrugged and popped his cheroot between his lips. “I don’t know. Maybe we could become best friends or something.”
Scorio laughed. “Just like that?”