Author: Wildbow

Wild Abandon – 18.b | Pale

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Biscuit sang as her skateboard coasted through Warrens dreck and bum scum, leaning hard one way or the next.  “With my thoughts all troubled and a belt unbuckled… addicted to youuuuoooouuuuuu!”

The skateboard dropped down a vertical section.  She felt the vague attention of an innocent, where this section passed by a grate.  She hurried to get out a slightly off-beat, “Boo!”, scrambling down the length of the skateboard to brace her shoulder and doll head against the box that was attached to the board.

The board hit a bend, and with a brain-jarring shift in frame, started going horizontal again.  Her being where she was helped keep the box from catching the board and just squashing her.  Bottles rattled within.

“With a fly zipped down and a lipstick frown, what do I dooooOOoooooo?” she sang.

The skateboard made the awkward transition from Warrens dreck to pipes.  She hadn’t really been here before, but it was mostly similar.  She alternated between choosing a destination and letting the way her body bounced as she sang to the music in her head decide her course.

“Champagne bubbles, cuddles, I’m in, deep trouble, my head, it’s empty, you gave, me plenty, it’s not what I need…

“OoooooOOh!”

She coasted out of a drain, into a street on Kennet found, and pumped a fist.

“With your shirt unbuttoned, my thoughts upended… addicted, to youuuoooouuu!  Woo!  A sniff of courage, my thoughts demurraged, what do I dOOooooOOooo!  Phew!”

The box on its shitty little wheels bucked and tried to fall over, or to tug the back end of the skate board to throw her wildly off course- off a ledge.  She threw her weight this way and that to try to compensate.

“Embrace, it’s cold, gold, go down, I’m easy, my heart, it’s empty, you gave, me plenty, it’s not what I need…”

There was a rather unexpected set of stairs.

“OoooOo-”

She hit the landing of the stairs, skateboard and box falling around her.

The fact she was wearing something that could almost be called a helmet and the fact it had ended up being useful somehow circled around to being ironic.

Face-down, she sang-screamed into the sidewalk, “-ooooOOooOh!”

Someone picked her up, and her legs paddled at the air instinctively.  They turned her to face them- a guy with a sock pulled over his head, peering out of a hole in the heel.  It was hard to tell at first, but he was ten feet tall and very skinny.

Biscuit stared back, wearing a plastic doll’s head over her head.  She’d drilled out the eyes and the mouth, then applied lipstick around the mouth hole for the illusion of lips.  The polyester golden locks tickled her shoulders.  Her body wriggled as her legs kept paddling at the air.

“You okay?” Sockhead asked.

“Yeh!  I’m tough.  Put me down?”

Then he helped her right her skateboard and put the box upright.  No leaks.  Good.  Some papers had fallen, where they’d been in a slot at the side of the box.  Biscuit fished through some.  “Sir!  A discount!  For being nice!”

He took the paper.

She left the other papers there, after verifying they weren’t too important.

She ran alongside the skateboard, pushing it, then heaved herself onto it, belly down, as it started to roll.  Greased by some WD-999 and Nonspecific Warren Lube, the box and skateboard’s wheels actually got a little faster as there was more resistance.  The box bounced hard against the back of the skateboard, jarring her as she got back to her feet.

“We’ve spent our hour, I take a shower, what did I dooooOooooo!?  Ooh!” she sang.  “Money on the counter, ending our encounter, what will I doOOOOoooOooo!?  Boo!”

She swerved around a kid that chose an awkward moment to reach right and pick a flower that was growing out of a crack in the sidewalk.

“My first, I’ll burst, in tears, I’ll fall, I’ll crawl.  Flat bubbles, no cuddles, you gave, me plenty, it’s not what I neeeded… this gold, it’s cold, go down, not easy, you gave, me plenty, it’s not what I needed…”

She purposefully tipped the skateboard because it wouldn’t roll to a stop on its own.  She tugged on the rope behind the box to have it propel itself forward some.

A man was out trimming his hedge.  He was old, and it looked like he’d taken white hair from every haircut and beard trimming he’d given himself to shroud his head in hair, so it looked like he had a bristling, uneven mane and thick beard, eyes peering out.

“Sir!” she shouted.

He looked down at her.  “Huh?”

“I would like to open an establishment on the corner of your property.  I won’t be long.  I’ll pay.”

“ID and papers?  I don’t want trouble.”

She reached up the bottom of her dress and pulled out papers.  There was one piece of paper with ‘BISCUIT’ scrawled on it, a picture of herself taken from a distance, while she was passed out, and a tiny handprint.  Then there was the various paperwork she’d filled out for fun.

“Filled this out all wrong,” he said, gruff.  “Wrong answers in wrong places.  Unless you live at a phone number.”

“Rule of discourse,” she said.  “I’m a sloppy girl like that.”

“That’s alright then,” he agreed.

She held up a handful of bills.  He had to lean into and over the fence to reach down enough to take it.

Toadswallow had brought back Kennet found money and he’d exchanged it for any of them who asked.  She wasn’t sure if Toadswallow had cheated them, but the old man seemed okay with it.

A lot of the goblins had asked for the amounts with the Cherrypop on it, so they could wipe their butts with it and annoy Cherrypop, but Cherry hadn’t really understood, so they’d left it lying around.  Biscuit had grabbed it up.

“Lemme finish?” he asked, indicating the hedges.  “Wont be long.”

“I’ve gotta set up so that’s okay.  I won’t be in the way.”

He nodded.

“Oh hey, what does milk cost?”

“Milk?”

It was her best point of reference, since Cherry kept looking for money to go buy some, leaving money behind whenever she stole from the store, for some reason.

“Nine.”  He pulled out the same money he’d taken from her, and showed her one amount, to indicate.

Three opossums.

“Coo, thank you sir!”

With ropes and shoelaces tied to shoelaces, she gradually hoisted her skateboard up at the corner of the fence on the property, then propped it across to form a platform.  With the wheels of the skateboard set to spinning, superlubed up, ropes tied to them, she winched the box up.  It took a few quick catches and extra ropes helping to keep the skateboard from dislodging itself from the weight.

She cracked the box open, unfolded some cloth, and draped out cloth signs, one along each of the two sides of the fence.  The first one had her face on it badly drawn but with the essential details there, with the store sign ‘Biscuit’s Mix-its’, and the other had drawings of the various offerings.

“I fall, in love, with every, one, they gave, me plenty, it’s not what I needed…  OoooOooooOOohh!”

A music box both served to fill in the gap between the skateboard and the front corner of the fence, and filled the neighborhood with tinkling chimes and drum beats.

The open panels of the box could be roped to the skateboard, serving as a lower shelf she could climb down.  She arranged bottles and concoctions on it.

Already, some curious people were approaching.

“Come one, come all!” Biscuit greeted them, hurrying to get more things in place.  Money set aside to be change, papers, some warning slips for more common goods.  “Biscuit’s mix-its stall!  Limited stock, sampling for my wandering stall in Kennet below!  Sometimes I’m here, sometimes I’m there, sometimes I’m gone!  It can be a treasure hunt, but they say the best treasure is an experience and I sell buttloads of experiences.”

More were arriving.  The old guy was looking out his window, annoyed at how loud her music was.  But she’d paid him well enough he seemed willing to tolerate it.

“Adults, you’d better buy so the kids don’t, kids?  If you want teenage rebellion, you’d better look elsewhere, because this is a re-hell-ion!  Here we go!  Regular booze, it can make you black out, but this here, it’s what we call All-out.  I’m talking blackout, knockout, shout-out with your bits out!  Gotta get something done?  Twenty people ready to pound you?  Down as much as you can, worst case, you won’t experience any of it!  But there’s a good chance you’ll find yourself face down somewhere hours away, you kicked allll their asses, got yourself hitched to some rando, said all the things-”

Someone came forward.  “How much?”

“Eighteen,” she said.  “Or, special deal, might be a one-time deal, who knows?  You can have all of it, free!  What a deal!  But if you do, you gotta have all of it.  You and me, we’ll have an adventure.  I’ve got references, if you need it.  Interested?”

“Eighteen, you said?” he asked.

“Yeh.  Deal stands, if any of you are interested!”

Nobody was.  Or at least, not out loud.  He paid.

Two more came forward.

“Twenty-one,” she told them.

“He paid eighteen!”

“Early buyer’s discount,” she said.  She took their money as they shelled out, a little disconcerted it was this easy.

“We’re all out of All-out!  If you want some more, gotta find me at the Kennet below market!  But there’s more!  Before I get to other fun substances, here’s something else you could find at the market!  A knife!”

She had their full attention as she stabbed herself through the eye-hole of the doll mask, both hands gripping the knife handle.

“Doesn’t hurt!  How badass do I look?  My stuff, it’ll make you drunk, sloppy, tipsy, topsy, you’ll be numb, fun, lost, and dumb.  But what the heck do you do when you’re sloshed and awash?  You stab yourself!  Put your hand on a table and stab between your fingers, then finish off by stabbing yourself in the back of the hand and shouting, hoooraaaaah!  Badass!”

She made three failed attempts at pulling the knife out of her face, her hand slipping on the grip.  Someone helped, then kindly laid the bloody knife down beside her.

“I’ll tell you guys how it works if you agree not to share.  Yeah?  Cool!  The less you act like it hurts, the less damage it does!  Let some other schmuck try it on himself for laughs!”

“I could pretend it hurts and make the damage worse?” a man asked.  He had bandages wrapped around his head, only mouth visible.

“Yeh, I guess.  But you could use a regular knife-”

He was already pulling out money.

“Twenty.”

He paid.  She took the money, folding it, before tucking it aside.

“Want to set yerself down for a good long while, go properly numb?  Get properly ossified with all-de-hydes.”

“I’ve tried that one,” a guy at the back of the crowd said.

“Statue still, uncomfortably numb.  That’s- forty,” Biscuit doubled the price at the last second.

From how easily that got paid, she wondered if she’d still asked for too little.

She heaved the bottle up.  “Gosh, you guys like booze.”

“Red moon’s coming,” a woman answered.

“Uh huh.  Should be fun!”

“Break from routine, turn over rocks, look for any trouble.”

“Sure!  And the violence!”

“Mostly against intruders.”

“Aw.  Here!  Now, this powder does have the side effect of making you weirdly obsessed with dragons…”

“I did that one too.”

Someone else pulled out money to pay.

“I didn’t even say the good part yet!”

“Having passions is cool,” the guy said.  “Dragons are cool.”

“That’s a lot less fun!” she protested, even as she took the money and handed over the packets.  “You gotta agonize some!  Twist in the wind!  Will you get this moment of awesome, for this horrible price?  Being super into something?  You might get a dragon tattoo.”

“Cool.”

“You’re buying for the price!  It’s like getting a cursed item for the curse!  Against natural order!”

The masks gave nothing away.

“Ugh!  I’ll remind you all, deal stands, if you like this stuff, you can have it all, free, if you’ll agree to do it all.  Adventure.”

“Did that once.”

She cocked her head to one side, and her neck fat did a bulge-shift where the neck of the doll head she’d pulled down over her own slipped to one side.  “Did you?”

“Yes.”

“Got a bunch of cool stories?”

“Yep.”

“Gotta say, you’re stealing my thunder a bit here, guy.”

“Yes I did,” he said, before walking off.

“Well fine!”

Still, there was business, so she couldn’t stay too disgruntled.  A lot of them seemed to want to black out or stay occupied during the red moon thing, instead of doing cool things, but the money was being handed over, and there wasn’t much commotion, so she was okay.

“Special offer’s still a thing!” she shouted, as people came and went.  She had to duck her head down and crank the music box, fixing the cog at the side to the endlessly spinning skateboard wheel, and when she poked her head up again, she saw someone in a plain white mask.  She sniffed at the air.

Invading practitioner.

“Hello there, practitioner,” she said, as she sorted out the money that had gotten a bit disorganized.

He raised a hand.  He’d drawn something on it – two circles meeting toward the top of a line, with an ‘x’ at the halfway point of the line.

“Don’t go practicing on me,” she said.  “Not supposed to be allowed.”

“It’s not.  Don’t worry about it.”

“You a repeat offender?” she asked.

“Yeah.  Myles Sutton.  Alchemical restoratives.  You’re a goblin?”

“Yeh!  Want something to take your mind off your troubles?  Slow Suicide?  Devil in a bottle?  Rusty Cage?  The A-Hole?”

“I’ve got seven days of civility classes to get through.  I think, uh, that’d be a fast way to screw up and get more days tacked onto my sentence.”

“The Guilt Trip!” she said, holding up a pill with a walking stick figure on it.  “Or is this the Ego Trip?  No, it’s the first one!  Short trip.  No telling what you’ll do, but it’ll be a thrill!”

“With a lot of regrets after?  I’ll pass.”

“Wimp.  Oh, you want it?  Fifty.”

“You know, the cash here is only really useful here.”

“But I can get supplies for bigger, cooler stuff.  Plus customers.  Customers who might bring better cash next time.”

“Very forward-thinking for a goblin.”

“I’m a girl with goals, Myles.”

“Want to compare notes?” he asked.

“Only if they’re cash notes.”

“I was writing down the vendors and things where you can get alchemical supplies.  Stuff you could use to brew that stuff.  I’d trade it for info.”

“Hmmmmm,” she considered.  Even if she didn’t end up using it much, Verona was doing alchemy.  “Maybe.”

“Let me get us started.  I’m curious, I hear the uh, less militant practitioners are all bailing this morning.”

“That’s the plan!”

“Right.  And that’s going okay?”

“Yeh!  But some are staying.”

“Any word on Cyn?  Or Mr. Martin?”

“Not yet!  They’re undecided.”

“Alright.  Here.”  He showed her an address.  Birds and bird related ingredients.

She took a note with one hand while taking money with another.

“What’s this?” someone pointed at a small bottle.

“That’s not for sale,” Biscuit said, before moving it aside, so it was in view but not in everyone’s view.  Just hers.

“What is it?” the man asked.

“Got it secondhand.  Makes you an addict if you’re not one.  Makes it worse if you are.  S’called Something To Die For.  But it gives you something.  Fate and shit, yeh?  Someone to love, who makes it all worth it.  True love, reason for being.  Agonizing conflict.  Is that something going to be the high you chase or the person?  But it’s expired.”

“Why keep it then?” Myles asked.

“S’like, uh, you know how some people have the first dollar they earned on the wall?  That’s like my dollar, but it’s something I want to make one day.”

“Fate practices like that, worked into alchemy?  Have to be some crazy ingredients.”

“Yeh.  Ten to fifteen engagement rings, and they gotta be ones that have good ‘sociations, too.  Two to five dog tags from dogs that died happy and loved, no pain.  BFF charms from dumb school girls who were the best of friends.  An’ so on.  Melt them down, remove impurities.  Then you gotta, gotta make booze out of what you got.  Gotta make it great booze.  Or it’s all wasted.”

“Involved,” Myles said.

“Gonna be special.  Might not be my first Barney, or my second, but I’ll have one- you know what a Barney is?”

Myles shook his head.

“Gonna be a goblin pal of someone on a legendary binge.  That someone’s my Barney.  And one day, when one of them are down and out, wondering what the point is- easy to get there, I think.  But if they’re special and there’s no other way, and there’s still that one thing left to do, that’s going to be the magic moment.”

“Dragging someone else into that mess?”

“It’s going to be a magic moment!  A lot of the time, a Barney finishes their legendary adventure and they’re done.  But this time, it’ll be all like, like hey!  You done so good!  Good job, just trust me this one last time, drink this.  And they will, and there’ll be a whirlwind of action and everything coming together, fate, that one person coming into their life in the middle of it, trigger the downfall of a country, end up accidentally in space, accidentally solve an equation that changes the world!  And then someone nurses them back to consciousness, they look each other in the eyes… and I’m there, hidden away, mostly forgotten.  They swear off the drugs and booze, get true love as their big reward for the best run ever.”

“What if the inherent magic of that particular dose overrides that whole ‘they usually end up sober after’?”

“No!  No, not allowed!  Don’t even say it!  Have to believe it’ll work!  The rest of it, the adventure, that’s a story I’m going to tell all the other goblins, and I’ll be a legend!  I get into places, I get free stuff, they lift me onto their shoulders, treat me like a little queen!  But the one bit, where it ends in love?  That’s for me.  That’s what it’s all for!  This!  Right here, this, the fighting, figuring how to make this stuff, hunting for my first Barney, all of it!”

She was breathing hard now.  It was hot inside the plastic doll head she’d crammed her own head into, even though it was cold outside.

“For that moment?”

“Yus.  Ever since I first heard of this drink.  I already knew about Barneys.  I couldn’t sleep, I liked the idea of that moment so much.”

The Foundlings around her little fence-stall were standing back, listening.

She was glad that one guy wasn’t around to say he’d done it.  She’d have gone for blood, whatever the rules were.  Still breathing hard, she sat herself down, which wasn’t a long trip with how short and stubby her legs were.

“Here,” Myles folded the paper he held, showing her a line.

“Why?”

“It’s a bunch of cool ideas.  If we’re comparing notes, I might as well pay for that too.  Didn’t know stuff like that existed.”

“If you steal my idea-”

“I won’t.”

“If you do, I know of drinks that’ll make you do terrible things.”

“I won’t.”

She huffed, and the heavy breath whistled briefly through the round hole in her helmet-mask.  “Speaking of.  Devil in a bottle?  Nobody will think you’re mild mannered ever again!  Not after you let your inner devil out!”

Two people came up to buy some of the small bottles.  One of them was wearing a Biscuit mask.

“I’ll give you a discount because you’re cute,” she told them.

“Just curious,” Myles said.  “Did you clear this with the Founder?”

“I filled out the paperwork!  If she doesn’t like it, she should have made it against the rules!  Next blood moon’s going to be a party.  Can I get a woo!?”

There was a ‘woo’ from roughly half the crowd.

“You guys shuffle over that way.  Yeah.  You too, sir!  And you, over to that group.  Yeah, everyone who gave me a woo gets a discount.”

She quickly sold the rest.

“I wanted to ask if you’d seen my friend, or if you’d pass on a message, but I’m out of information to trade,” Myles said.

“I heard there’s a bunch of wacky alchemists who tried to work together and screwed it all up somewhere near here,” she said.

“Yeah.”

“Write down their names?  And one thing you know you might not?” she asked.

“The labs were pretty thoroughly ransacked.”

“Write!” she pointed.  “And tell me your friend’s name.”

“Easton Songetay.”

“Gauntlet boy?”

“Yeah.”

“Super short hair, angry face, big coat?”

“Yeah.”

“Cranky?  Full of himself?  Aggressive?  Loses a lot?”

“Yeah.  Don’t turn around and say you have no idea who he is.”

“He’s down here.”

“Don’t suppose I could get you to give him a message?”

“Dangerous for me.  He binds goblins.  Or tries.  Tried to bind a Foundling.  I’ll pass on word though.”

“Meet at the fountain?  The one with the little girl?  I’ll be hanging out there.”

“Might be a while,” one Foundling commented.  “He’s doing the intensive three-day course.”

“Shit.  I figured seven days was a good way to look around, gather some info.  Like the vendors.  Okay.  Thank you.  Can I fill out a memo?  As thanks?”

“Nah,” the Foundling said.

“Hey,” Biscuit said, looking up at him.  “Why?”

“Why what?”

“Why gauntlet boy?  Is it a little romance?  Is he your Something To Die for?”

“Nah.  Just a friend.  Hard to explain, I guess.”

She gave him her best puppy dog eyes.  The doll head didn’t really help though, but she pushed through.

“He’s… really cool when he’s cool.  Which isn’t often, but like… we’re fourteen year old guys.  Pretty hit and miss about whether we get to be cool in the right ways.  Sometimes we’re cool in ways adults like, but uncool in all the rest.  Sometimes we’re cool in like, we got school down on lock, but uncool the rest of the way.  Sometimes we’ve figured ourselves out.  And so on.  Easton, right now, luck of the draw, parents he got, he’s cool in the way that other girls our age think is cool.  For the rest of it, you gotta kinda… look past some stuff?  You see it in the moments he’s not paying attention and stops trying so hard.  Where he’s pretty cool in general.  And maybe you end up hoping he’ll end up chilling out and settling down that way for good?”

“Because you’ve been cool, talking like this.  You’d be cooler if you bought up and chugged some of my stock, but…” Biscuit said.

“Nah.  No thanks.”

“…and you’re friends with this guy?  He’s Cherrypop tier.”

“I don’t have any idea what that means.”

She grabbed a bill and held it up.  “A one.”

“Ah.  I’d argue that, but there’s rules about arguing with goblins.”

“Here?”

“In general.”

“No fun.”

“But did what I say make any sense?  About… coolness?  We’re half formed adults, can’t always choose what gets prioritized.”

“Sure.  A lot of my friends are like that.  Part of being a goblin.”

“Huh.  I want to argue that, but I just- I- the first two arguments that came to mind contradicted my point.”

“Sometimes you’re half formed and you don’t form any more than that.”

“That’s… true.”

“Like Cherrypop, maybe.  And gauntlet boy?”

“I dunno.”

“Hey, here’s a question,” she said, standing up.  “Big question.  If we’re half formed but we’re going to become fully formed, who’s doing the forming?”

“Really good question,” Myles said.  “Wow.  I’ll have to sit on that for a bit.”

“Answer now,” she insisted.  “Answer, answer, answer…”

She motioned.

About three people in the group of ten that were hanging out nearby joined in.  She motioned for them to join the group that got the discount, and motioned for the one who’d joined in for both things to come forward.  “Freebie.”

“What does it do?”

“No idea!  I forget.  But I think it’ll be cool.  Now go away.  This dope needs to give an answer.”

“A goblin with a dream and some profound questions, huh?” Myles asked.  “I guess I’d say, hmmm, I suppose the ones shaping me and Myles would be our families, except our families are becoming subordinate to Abraham Musser, right?  So Musser’s shaping us, deciding how we’ll be when we’re fully formed.  Which is pretty key to watch out for, since I think he sorta likes Easton.  I know Wye does.  For similar reasons I do, I think, but maybe they want different end results?  Food for thought.”

“Nuh uh.”

“No?  Huh.  Figured you were trying to lead me to that conclusion.”

“You.  You shape yourself,” she said.  “Jus’ gotta be in the right place, around the right people.”

He looked around.  “And here I am, in this Founded place, taking civility classes, learning goblins can be deep.”

“So deep, but that’s not it.”

“It’s about experiences, and the way to get to the right places, right people?  Drugs.  Alcohol.  Cut loose.”

“Ah huh,” he said, sounding disappointed.

“Stock’s almost run out.  Last chance.”

“Nah.”

“No wonder you’re still half formed,” she said.  “Next!”

“You’ll pass on my message?”

She gave a thumbs up, and handled the last few transactions, stopping the music box partway through.

She packed away the money, then put away the rest, before cutting the ropes.  Skateboard, box, and banners all got sorted out, banners jammed into the box, box put together then hitched to the board.  She had to untangle the knotted ropes from the wheels where they’d been used as winches.

“Thanks everyone!  Be sure to visit the market!” she told the stragglers- mostly people standing around to chat with one another.

Myles walked with her, while she pushed the skateboard along, climbing onto it to let it trundle along.

“Need a carry up the stairs?” he asked.

“Nah,” she saw.  She noticed he’d rubbed the mark off his hand.  “Got ways.”

“Alright.”

She steered the skateboard toward the road, and toward a manhole cover.

She had enough connection to the Warrens that it was pretty easy to get through.  The moment she hit the manhole cover, it flipped, letting her through into another space behind.

She dropped, stomach plummeting, and hurried to get everything roughly balanced so she could hit the curve at more or less the right angle.  She banked off the curve in the pipe about twelve feet down, then raced forward, through fetid air that only got more fetid-y.  Then it broke into smells of feet and tiddy, then other smells besides.

She hit the muck and the ride became smoother, and harder to control.  Up, bank off a corner- over-

She belted out the words to her song, starting over.

“With my thoughts all troubled and a belt unbuckled… addicted to youuuuoooouuuuuu!”

One grate- nope.  A shadow passed over it, and she knew it was a human shadow.  She coasted onward.  Manhole cover- the light shining through those little squares reached all the way down a short side tunnel to the wall at the T-junction, one square blocked.  More humans.

By the hue of the light, it was morning, people were starting to get up and getting stores ready well ahead of opening hours.

She skidded forward, avoiding a hazard.

More shadows, more sounds.  Running, splashing footsteps.

She made a sharp turn, hoping- she knew there were two exits here, three if it was trash day downtown, and it wasn’t trash day.  If both were blocked-

The goblins came running after her.  They were as fast as her skateboard.

In the gloom of the caverns, lit only by the occasional light from the human world, she could only see their eyes.

Fork- she only had half a second to decide which fork to go down.  She judged the light.

There was activity on both sides, but if she felt out-

She coasted hard right.  The goblins were right behind her, claws scratching for a hold on the box.

Slight downhill, speeding her up just past the reach of their claws, then an upturn-

She bounced her way free of a duct cover that pointed out into a gap between dumpsters.  Biscuit, the skateboard, and the box all tumbled onto pavement in a back parking lot.

There were people coming around the corner.

Goblin hands reached out from behind her, leaving her unable to duck back toward the dumpsters.  She didn’t want to abandon her stuff.

Hands reached up from above, grabbing her and the rope connecting the skateboard and box.

Biscuit was brought into the dumpster, then tumbled a short distance, out through a duct behind the bar.

“My lady,” Toadswallow said, as he polished a broken glass.

“I’m not your lady!” Biscuit protested.

“She is.”

Bubbleyum was her rescuer.

“She nearly got snatched up,” Bubbleyum said, standing.  She stepped up onto a rung of Toadswallow’s stool and kissed his cheek.  Then she looked down at Biscuit, clearing her throat.

“Oh!”  Biscuit fished through her stuff and got some money, and handed it over.

“What the hell is this?  Toilet paper?”

“It looks like what the goblins were using as toilet paper.”

“It’s Cherry dollars!”

“Here,” Toadswallow said, taking the money.  “I’ll get you something nice.”

“Should be getting me something nice anyway,” Bubbleyum said, poking him in the butt cheek.

“Yes dear.  Gladly.  How was your errand, Biscuit?”

“Good!  Sold out!  Weird money, weird customers, but it was good.”

“Good.  You mentioned the market?”

“Yeh!”

“Who was after you?”

“Didn’t see.”

“Only got a glimpse.  They looked like America’s group,” Bubbleyum said.  “They’re after anyone going through the lower areas.”

“Hmmm.”

“She’s old enough for a spanking,” Bubbleyum said, before blowing a bubble.

“Call me sentimental-”

“Sentimental,” Bubbleyum and Biscuit said, at the same time.

“Yeh,” Toadswallow replied, sighing.

“Met one of the invaders,” Biscuit said.  “Myles.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Mark on his hand?  He tried to show me it.”

“Show me.”

Biscuit went to a puddle on the floor and drew moisture out into the right general shape.

“That’s not practice,” Toadswallow croaked the words, contemplative.  “Don’t think so anyway.  What does Myles do?”

“Alchemist,” Biscuit replied.

“That’s not alchemy either.”

“Gang sign,” Bubbleyum said.

“Way of telling friendly goblins apart from the rest?”

Bubbleyum nodded, another bubble in process.

“Take that off your head?” Toadswallow asked.  “It’s distracting.”

Biscuit removed the doll head, but it was a process, and she ended up needing Bubbleyum’s help to tug it past the general chin area.

“Does she have so many goblins she needs a way of identifying them?” Toadswallow asked.

“Don’t think so.  Not yet, at least.  There are enough dumb practitioners in town, she could need a way for them to tell ours apart from theirs,” Bubbleyum replied.

“Or both.  Bringing more in, organizing the people who are behind.  Myles is an alchemist?”

“Yeh.  Knew stuff,” Biscuit replied.

“What’s your read on him?”

“Too straightlaced.”

“What else?”

“Smart.  Kind.  Thinks too much.”

“Doesn’t sound like the usual group here,” Toadswallow mused.  “He was with the aggressive invaders?  If he’s a repeat offender?”

“Friend of gauntlet boy.  The one who kidnapped the rabbit mask girl.”

“Maybe that explains it.  Okay.  That warrants some investigation.  Up for an errand, Biscuit?”

“Hell no.  I just got back.”

“Hmmm.  Doglick, come!”

Doglick barked, and in his haste to find his way over, he bowled past two sleeping goblins in one of the cushioned booths across the abandoned bar.

Biscuit climbed up onto a shelf to avoid being in the path of eager, rear-end-wagging destruction.

“See that mark on the floor?” Toadswallow asked.

Biscuit pointed.

Doglick yipped.

“You’re going to Kennet found.  Do we know where this Myles boy is?”

“Fountain of the black dog girl.”

Toadswallow nodded.  “Don’t take the usual routes.  There’s goblins waiting to ambush anyone coming by.  Go show yourself.  See what he does.  If he shows you a symbol.  Then watch, see who he interacts with, how he handles himself.  I’ll send someone by to get a report.”

“I think Doglick’s too dumb for all that,” Biscuit said.

Doglick wagged his rear end, making a coughing sound that might have been an ill-timed attempt at a bark, when there wasn’t enough air in the right place.

“He’s a good boy,” Bubbleyum said.  “Do it and you get a treat.”

Doglick scampered off.

“Go get yourself sorted.  Rest if you need.  Shit may go down today, our rep as goblins is important,” Toadswallow said.

“Yeh,” Biscuit agreed.  “More your rep than mine.  I could say no.”

“You could also get booted out of town, if you can’t do your share.”

“Did some already.  If you want a bit more, maybe I get a bit more?” she asked.

He leaned back, looked at Bubbleyum, then reached into a pocket.  “Because you did good.”

“I always do good.  If you’re cute enough, everything is good.”

“You’re not that cute,” he said.

“I’m very cute for a goblin,” she said, giving him her best puppy dog eyes.

“Go away,” Toadswallow said.  He handed her a paper.  She unfolded it.

A new brew.  Punch Drunk.

“Shoo.  I want my lady to put her tongue down my throat and tickle the inside part of my belly button.”

“Only if you ask nicely,” Bubbleyum told him.

Biscuit left them to their own devices, dragging her stuff behind her, on her way to the lockers.  Part of running a market meant that there was a need to store stuff in places, and it could all go really wrong if there was any theft.  The lockers at the back of the bar were one place that things could be stored- especially things like Biscuit’s box and skateboard.  At the back of the room, larger areas had been marked out, with gremlin rigged electric wire fences stretching across wooden cube shapes with doors.

But a place like this needed a guard dog.  The one on duty was Bluntmunch.

“Hi B.M.”

“Biscuit.  Drop your stuff off and go.  I want to sleep.”

He was big, fierce, strong, and he had to be so… frustrated.

“You don’t want company while you sleep?” she asked, giving him the eyes.

“Not yours.”

“Aw,” she said.  “Lift me?  It’ll get rid of me faster.”

He put a hand out, then lifted her high enough to access the combination lock.

“I’m just saying, Blunt, I know I can’t give you any really fun drinks, or it might break the binding they all put on you-”

“Mmmm.  Less talk, more going away?” he asked.

“-but if you wanted something else, like an experiment, see if you could put a rocket launcher in a 9 mm holster, if you know what I mean, I’m open to it.”

“No.  You’d die.”

“Die happy!”

She removed the lock, let him lower him down to the floor, and lifted the box in.  It helped it was mostly empty now.

She heard a voice.

“-selling obscene amounts of very strong, very dangerous chemicals to the Foundlings-”

“I understand she did the paperwork.”

“She did.  In a very goblin way.  It took so long for the people processing it to decipher it that she got forty five minutes to sell before absconding.”

“What a good word.  Absconding.”

“Is she here?  She and I need to have a conversation.”

Biscuit hurried, motioning.  She got lifted up to the lock, and latched it shut.

“She just left.  We should have a conversation, though.  I have reason to believe there are secret messages being passed around.”

“I have reason to believe you’re changing the subject.  She’s primed a disaster of wildly inebriated foundlings to explode around the time the next blood moon comes.  Did she leave the room or left the premises?  Don’t play games with me, Toadswallow.”

“She’s left the-”

Biscuit hurried for the nearest vent, sliding into the shallow Warrens.  She waddle-ran to the next nearest opening, a building away.  She knew Toadswallow would sense her departure.

“Do you ever wonder if we’ll all be together again?” Avery asked.

“We’re together now, aren’t we?” Lucy asked.

“You know what I mean.  Together, like we used to be.  Working mostly as a unit.  Without, I dunno, walls up?”

“I get it,” Verona said, quiet.  “Together but not together, kind of.  Moving in separate directions.”

“Yeah,” Lucy sighed.  “A bit.”

Verona had just finished her Demesne claim.  Avery was packed and ready to go.  Verona would be going to school soon, so would Lucy.

But they were in the middle of one last thing.  They hadn’t wanted to leave just yet.

The kids, their parents, some goblins, two Dog Tags, the Vice Principal and the Bitter Street Witch were all present.

“Sorry if I’m a big part of that,” Avery said.  “Us not being together together.”

“You’re not, Ave.”

“What if we’re never, hmm, meshed again?”

“I dunno,” Lucy said.  “Maybe that’s something that takes effort.”

“Hard to put in the effort when we’re constantly scrambling,” Verona said.  “Do we postpone this?  For a few weeks?  Months?  The almost two years before Avery comes back to Kennet?”

“Depends what happens, right?”

The parents were hanging a short distance back.  Lucy’s mom was wearing scrubs.  Avery’s dad murmured something to his wife, then to Lucy’s mom.  Lucy’s head turned a fraction.

Lucy’s mom was a nurse.  Nurses had access to medications.

Biscuit waddled over, leaning against the wall near Lucy’s mom’s ankle.  The top of her head came up just shy of the woman’s knee.

“I’m Biscuit.  I’m the cutest goblin here,” she said, giving Lucy’s mom her full-power puppy dog eyes.

“I know who you are.”

“Oh wow.  I have a reputation.”

Toadswallow, Miss, and Louise entered.

“Here we go,” Avery’s mom said.

Biscuit shrank back against the wall, doing her best to look innocent.  Miss didn’t have eyes but it felt like the non-eyes were on Biscuit.  She squirmed a bit.

“How are we doing?” Avery asked.  “Am I good to go?”

Toadswallow answered, “We have a Tedd problem.  Our goblins have confirmed, they’re bringing in more, using secret signals to organize, and they’re already taking action against the market.  They waylaid some of our merchants.  America Tedd is leading them.”

“From the town hall in Kennet below?”

“Yes,” the Bitter Street Witch said.

“You can go,” Louise said.  “We’ll handle it, and there’s apparently something in Thunder Bay?”

“A girl and her goat who are apparently some huge mega-trap waiting for us there, yeah.”

“After school,” her mom said.  “Oh my god I sound ridiculous.”

“You’re fine,” Avery said.  “I phoned Mrs. Wint from the council to let her know.  Which might be like throwing a truckload of fertilizer on a bomb, but maybe she can handle it?”

“Maybe.”

“Our daughter knows about fertilizer bombs, should we be proud or worried?” Avery’s dad asked her mom.

“Blame media.  That way we can put it in the same bucket as the Declan problem.  Spare my sanity a bit.”

“We have some tentative plans for the meantime,” Miss was saying.  “You girls don’t have to be directly involved, but if you did want to be part of this to smooth things over with certain groups-”

Avery was glancing back at her parents and asked Lucy something, got an answer, then turned, “You’re comparing me to Declan?”

“Focus, please,” Louise said.  “You said you didn’t have much time.”

“School and Avery leaving, yeah,” Lucy replied.

“Sorry.  It’s stupidly early, even for me,” Avery said.  “By certain groups, you mean Liberty?”

“And the more ambiguous goblins,” Toadswallow said.  “We have reason to think they have goblins in Kennet above, Kennet below, and Kennet found… someone in Kennet found was communicating with goblins, talking to and coordinating with those above.”

“Who?”

“Myles Sutton.  Easton Songetay is working with him on that now, but Easton is busier, doing the three day course.  Myles is taking point.”

“Myles challenged my claim because Easton egged him on,” Verona said.  “Said as much.  He’s friends with Easton like that.  Seemed decent but I guess he has crummy friends.”

“So our goblins say,” Toadswallow said, glancing at Biscuit.

“That’s me, I said it,” Biscuit told Lucy’s mom.

“Okay.”

“Many goblins are suggestible,” Toadswallow said.

“We are,” Biscuit told Lucy’s mom.

“America has a lot of influence.  She’s a minor celebrity.  I know at least one goblin working in the markets has a picture of her, drawn with a five year old’s ability, pinned up in their workspace.  Liberty stands a few rungs lower, because she’s younger, but the Liberty adherents are rabid.  She’s less exciting, but she’s gentler and kinder, and many goblins don’t get much gentleness or kindness.”

“We don’t, but I do my best to give some,” Biscuit told Lucy’s mom.  “I’m cuddly.”

“Uh huh.”

“With Liberty’s imminent arrival, we face a tug of war over the hearts of the goblin population,” Toadswallow said.

“I know it’s shitty, but I’m basically here to give Liberty a quick hug, a thank you and then I gotta leave,” Avery said.  “If that’s okay?”

“If we’re engaged in tug of war, losing Liberty in any way would lose us the fight.  A hug and thank you helps.  From the tone of her reply, it sounded as if she feels obligated.  Yes?”

“Yeah.  Which doesn’t make me feel any less crummy about how this is playing out,” Avery replied.

“How were the Garricks?  I know you called,” Louise said.  “But they sounded like they were in earshot.”

Avery nodded.  “Twenty-one safely transported away.  They’re going to take Liberty out when she’s done here.  They’re open to more.  No issues, everyone was delivered safely.  It’s not the outcome we all wanted, they can’t do more trips without getting Gainsaid by the Carmine Exile, but it’s ok.  Some of them are going to come back after, if that’s alright.  To visit.”

“It’s alright with me,” Miss said.  “I’d prefer if one of you was with them, if it’s no trouble.”

“Got it,” Verona said.

“Is that safe?” Lucy asked.  “Them coming back?”

“I dunno, but I think it kind of walks a line?”

“And… what was his name?” Louise asked.  “Peter Garrick?”

“Yeah.  He got cleared of the gainsaying pretty easy.  That part’s mostly handled.”

“Meaning our most immediate problem is America Tedd.  And she’s a key figure in the group of remaining invaders,” Miss said.

“And our second big problem is Musser is coming back, reasonably soon?” Lucy asked.

Louise, Miss, and Toadswallow nodded.

“If Liberty can’t handle the America problem, then I’m going to want to,” Lucy said.

“Not with violence, I hope,” Lucy’s mom said.  Biscuit nodded her silent agreement, to see if that scored any points.

“Not if I can help it.  Violence is her language.  I’d rather make her bilingual.”

“No idea what that means,” her mom said.  “It sounds menacing.”

“It’s meant to sound badass.”

“Six out of ten,” Verona told her friend.  Lucy elbowed her.

“Come on then.  Tally ho and scatter.  Be at the ready.  Goblins,” Toadswallow called out.  “You’re with me!  If we’re to to do this, we need to break up America’s support.  Let’s distract and dissuade those who would help her in our little game of tug of war.  If you’re wondering if you should use things you could sell, talk to me.  I’ll pay you back some.  But if this goes south, so will our market.”

Biscuit didn’t budge, watching as the rest went.

“Can we do something about that middle contingent?  Send someone?” Avery asked.

“Or just let them free?” Verona offered.  “What if we went to Myles and convinced him people were leaving?  Time it so they’re split up.”

“Maybe we don’t have to be deceptive about it?” Lucy asked.

Miss was talking to the Dog Tags now.

The parents stood by, just observing, looking really concerned.

“I hope we can be friends,” Biscuit told Lucy’s mom.

“Aren’t you the goblin that deals drugs?”

Biscuit opened her mouth into an ‘o’ and covered it.  “Wherever did you get that idea?”

“Each of you has a thing you do very well and yours is magic drugs, right?  My daughter gave me her notes.”

“How could you have gotten such a terrible idea?  I’m a big believer in anti-drug programs,” Biscuit said.  She moved to where Lucy’s mother couldn’t see, close to the back of her feet, making the woman step aside.  Biscuit hastily got a pen out and scrawled letters on her shirt.  When Lucy’s mother was looking at her again, Biscuit had the letters DONT on her shirt, which she’d taken off a child’s doll.  She held it out.  “See?  Drug opposed network something or other.”

“That wasn’t there before, I remember that much.”

“Are you sure?”

“I’m sure.”

“I’ve even got a song though!  I’m Biscuit, drugs?  Don’t risk it!  Drugs fantastic?  Don’t be a basket-  Case!  Case the joint.  Joints are bad-”

“Biscuit!” Bubbleyum barked, making Biscuit jump.  “Why are you wasting time?”

“Coming!  I’ll sing the entire song for you later, okay?” Biscuit told Lucy’s mom.

“Aren’t those anti drug programs notorious for being ironically worse and driving people toward substance abuse?” Avery’s dad asked,  “Is that why you like them?”

Right on the money.  Biscuit ignored him and hoped Lucy’s mom would too.  “Drugs are bad so you should give me all the drugs and all the medicines that could be used as drugs for safekeeping.”

Lucy’s mom shook her head.  “No.  I’m not going to do that.  I think you need a new gimmick, Biscuit.  Because this one sounds pretty terrible.”

“Being anti-drug?”

“Being a drug vendor.”

“But look!  I’m perplexingly cute as goblins go.  It’s charming!  That lets me get away with stuff!”

“Not with me.  I haven’t seen enough goblins to be able to compare easily, but I have to say, the ones who don’t deal drugs are far better in my eyes.”

Biscuit gasped, horrified.

“You’re actually saying I’m not cute!?”

“Biscuit!” Bubbleyum called out.  “Get moving or else.”

“I think they’re saying I’m not cute!”

“You definitely won’t be cute after I put my foot so far up your ass you can see the outline of my foot pressing out of your face.”

Biscuit gasped again, double horrified.

She hurried away, pausing halfway across the floor to give Lucy’s mom her best puppy dog eyes.  “I don’t deal drugs, exactly.  I deal in cool magic that’s got booze and drugs as part of it.”

“That’s not better.”

“Isn’t it?”  Biscuit turned it up another notch, then let her face rest when that didn’t get her anywhere.  “Tits and balls, damn it.”

She stomped the rest of the way to the nearest Warren-hole.  Bubbleyum was waiting there, looking grumpy.

Biscuit smiled a bit unevenly, then hopped down the hole in the floor.  If the hole in the floor was a throat, then it was a question of intention about which way she’d go.  A throat could bring something into the lungs or bring something into the stomach, and Biscuit wanted to go to the stomach-area.  She disappeared into darkness and she didn’t hit the unlit bit of sub-floor on the far side of the hole.  Her feet found slick metal, and she skidded her way down the scum-lined pipe.

She loudly hummed the beats of her song.  Her short legs and sack-like body made her center of gravity low, which helped with keeping her balance while sliding down the slick, angled tunnel.  Her eyes adjusted to the dark.  Butty had moved off to a side tunnel, getting at a stash of something oily, and leered at her, smiling as he got it all over himself.

And Toadswallow was right behind her, picking her up and lifting her to his shoulder.  He managed their descent, monocle glinting every time they passed a light source.

His voice was a croak in the darkness.  “You’re plenty cute as goblins go, but stay away from the parents for now.  They’re still adjusting.”

“Okay.”

“Toward the town hall!” Toadswallow told the gathered goblins of Kennet that had slowed at a flatter portion.  He skidded to a stop, facing them all.  Biscuit hopped down.

About half the goblins present looked at one another.  Of those who didn’t, about half stared at him blankly.

“You have no civic responsibility.  The dog statue where you were rubbing the part between the legs to see how shiny you could get it?”

About half the goblins knew where that was.

“And split up!  Above, below, found!  The three girls are meeting us there, but they don’t want to take the Warrens!”

There were shouts of agreement.

The goblins took separate paths, spreading out.

“I’ll pay you what your stock is worth,” Toadswallow said, voice low.

“Me?” Biscuit asked.

“If you put it to good use, I’ll pay you one and a half times what it’s worth.  If you put it to great use, I’ll pay double.”

“Toadswallow,” Biscuit said, putting one hand on her hip.  A nonspecific organ shifted where it had been pressing against skin.  “Are you trying to impress your old student?”

“America too.  Gotta show her what’s what.  Knock some sense into that head.”

He reached into a vest pocket and pulled out an engagement ring.  A diamond glittered in Warrens gloom.  “See this?”

“Are you going to ask Bubbleyum to marry you!?” Biscuit asked, before hugging his head.

“No.  Not-” he paused.  “Not yet.  Not with something this lame.  It’s gotta be way better.  It’s for you.  Advance payment.  I know you’re keeping an eye out.”

“For my Something To Die For?”

“That’s it.”

She took it, clutching it close to her most heart-approximate organ.

Toadswallow started on his way down, sliding on his rear end, feet out in front of him, one hand trailing the wall.

They were partway down when goblins came at them from either side- brothers, by the looks of it, with beaks and mean looking eyes.

“Aaaa!” Biscuit shrieked.

A claw-tipped hand that reached for her disappeared into a blur of white.

Bubbleyum, again, snapping out, to take in hand, forearm, and elbow.  She bit three times in rapid succession, at different points in the arm, and bubblegum mixed with torn flesh and blood, until it was really hard to tell what was what.  The goblin, eyes widening, looked at the goblin that had been lurking just behind Toadswallow, well hidden.

Bubbleyum bit the attacking goblin’s face, before pulling her head back, tatters of flesh, strings of blood, strands of bubblegum, bloody flesh, bloody bubblegum, and gummy flesh stretching from the torn up goblin to her lower face, and connecting the goblin’s arm to its head.  Her eyes glowed pink in the gloom.

“Don’t touch him,” Bubbleyum told the other beaked goblin, rather pointlessly, because she pounced on him a second later.

She glanced back at Toadswallow and Biscuit.

Biscuit hid the ring before Bubbleyum could see and get jealous.

“Best you go ahead,” Toadswallow told Biscuit.  “Hurry along.  I have things to do.”

Like your gum-chewing lady?  Biscuit thought.

But Biscuit went ahead, aware there could be more ambushes waiting.  “With his fly zipped down and a lipstick frown, what do I doooOOO!”

“OooOOo!” she heard Ramjam down one tunnel, and went that way.

And there were more ambushes, but enough goblins were ahead of her that they’d sprung the various traps.  Three goblins were trying to get a grip on Butty.  Two more had bound Nat’s arm behind her back with barbed wire.  Biscuit angled her slide to bowl her way past their legs.  “Champagne cuddles, bubbles, I’m in, deep troubles!”

And it only got worse as she got further down.  Doglick was being drowned in mud.  More goblins were cornering Kittycough.

She couldn’t get past-

And the one she’d bowled over was coming after her now.  Nat was up, punching, but that wasn’t good for a lot.

It made Biscuit think about being small, new in the Warrens.

Before she’d found her crew.

“Fight!  Line up!  Bangnut, weapon form!  Biscuit!  Weapon form!”

“You’re not the boss of us, Tatty!” Biscuit shouted.

“I should be!  Next in command after Toadswallow and Bubbles!  I run the Casino!”

“You’re a referee!” Biscuit shouted.  “Sometimes!”

“I run it enough!” Tatty raged.

Tatty got more aggressive as she did.  She was really easy to piss off and she got more intense when pissed off.  Everyone knew.

“Where’s Toad!?” Ramjam asked.  He had smaller goblins trying to pull him facedown into the Warrens dreck by holding his horns.

“Getting stuff!”

“We don’t need stuff!  We need to beat them up!” Tatty shrieked.  “Get them!  Fight harder!”

“You fight!”

How could they win a tug of war like this?

Biscuit had slowed because there was so much to wade through down there, and no clear path forward that wouldn’t get her smashed like a wet paper bag filled with hard boiled eggs.  But the goblin was coming behind her-

And she didn’t have a lot.  She didn’t have tricks, or anything to drink, or pills, even.  She’d stowed that earlier.  She only had-

“What are you going to do?  Look at me, I’m too cute,” she said, before posing as best as she could.

The goblin looked at her suspiciously.

“Have you ever seen a goblin as cute as me?”

“Couple times,” the goblin growled.

She gasped, indignant.

The goblin moved closer, pulling out a hacksaw with barbed wire wound around the saw part.

Help came, but it wasn’t Toadswallow.

Bluntmunch, released from binding, maybe, or temporarily released, came down the tunnel.

He was big enough to almost fill the tunnel, but moved so he avoided crushing Snatchragged in passing. He put a foot out and forward, and pushed the goblin that had been moving on Biscuit into the muck, stepping on him to use him like a sled for his right foot.

He pushed against the tunnel and lifted up so he coasted by Biscuit, legs on either side of her, and collided with that mess of fighting below.

He didn’t hurt their guys.  He gave each of the goblins he passed some kind of hit, whether it was flinging them neck first at a wall or hitting them with a meaty, hairy fist that was like a head-sized piece of concrete at the end of a pipe.  Others he pushed down and deep enough into the muck they couldn’t get back up.

Some got back up, but it was a much easier fight.

Biscuit used the opportunity, hurrying off to the side.

She wasn’t a fighter, not really.  She was an enabler.

She went toward the smoke-tinged morning light, down one side tunnel.

“Biscuit.”

Toadswallow again.

“I’m not running!”

“I know,” he said.  He reached into his vest, and pulled out a dingy handbag.  Glass clinked within.  He threw it to her.  “From your locker.”

“You went into my locker!”

“I know it’s an odd concept, Biscuit,” he said.  He turned his head, monocle glinting as he did so.  He looked down the sloping tunnel where there was still audible fighting.  “But you can trust me.”

She narrowed her eyes.

“I’ve come to believe we all rise to the level others see in us.  I used to think that meant having what it takes to defend what you have, kill if you gotta.  But if I really believed that, would I be giving you a fair shake, little Biscuit?”

“If you shake me, I can’t tell you what’s going to fall out.”

“Hmmm, yes. This is all a leap of faith, still.  I trust you, but you’d best get jumping.”

“How high?” Biscuit asked.

“Good answer.  You decide.”

She grabbed the handbag, adjusted it, and then carried it free of the Warrens.

She paused at the manhole cover that would take her out onto the street.  She could hear Ramjam singing indistinctly.  She could usually get him singing with little prompting.

And Bubbleyum was badass and Snatchragged was fierce and Toadswallow was…

Uncomfortably non-goblin but not in like, the worst way.

She took a moment, balancing her bag on one rung of the ladder, and fished around for things.

She made a mark on her forehead, because her hand was too small.

Then she managed her way up the ladder, past the manhole cover, and into Downtown Kennet.

Things were moving.  People from Kennet below were getting organized.

And people from the invaders were here too.  America’s spot was a rallying point, with a lot of goblins.

A lot from the market.  Biscuit recognized some as ones who’d managed stalls.

There were even more in the tunnels, and apparently near Kennet above and Kennet found.  If the fighting stopped, they’d come here, probably.

America was hyping them up.

“What’s that on your forehead?”

Biscuit looked up.  Gashwad.

“Can’t get close.  It’s too many.  I was going to stab someone important.  Really mess ’em up.”

“Uh huh.”

“What’s that on your forehead?”

The mark she’d seen on Myles’ hand.

She moved around one building, then approached from an open angle, near the flanks, moving through sparse grass that was dying as the weather turned.  The ground was cold underfoot, and leaves crunched.

“Hold up!” a man shouted.

“I got the mark!” she shouted, pointing at her forehead.

“Not good enough to have just the mark.  What’s the password?”

“How would I know the password?  Look at me.  I’m very cute.”

“You’re… a bit cute.  For a goblin.”

“Yeh!  How’s a goblin supposed to be this cute and smart enough to remember something like that?  You’re asking too much, man!” Biscuit shouted.

The man folded his arms.  He had a wonky curved dagger.  Maybe an implement.

She acted super confident as she walked down to a point about five feet away from them, and set her bag down.  What had Toadswallow packed for her?

“Okay, what’s the mark on the forehead mean?”

“Dicks,” Biscuit answered, right away.

“Two out of three, at least,” the younger guy told the knife guy.

“I’ve got stuff here.  Fun stuff.  Drink thirty minutes before any fighting.”

“We’ll be fighting before thirty minutes is up,” the knife guy said.

“Dunno.  Here.  Three things…” she put down three bottles.  “Drink ’em.  I guess sooner than later, okay?”

“I’m not going to drink something strange from a goblin, sorry.”

Biscuit sighed.  “But it’s awesome.”

She grunted her displeasure, then packed up two of the three bottles, leaving the tallest one in the dirt.

“You forgot one,” one of the men told her.

She waddled away as fast as she could.  “Got work to do and I’ve got small hands.  Do whatever with it.  Sell it maybe!”

She went to the next group, which took a minute.  “Forehead, gots the mark!  Means dick.”

“Cut off dick.”

“Yeh!  And I’ll do the same for you I did for the last group.  One bottle to drink.”

She placed it on the ground near their feet.  She saw them look at the other group that was holding the loose, half-circle perimeter around Kennet below’s town hall.  At the bottle on the ground there.  She waddled on.

“What if we don’t want to?”

“No skin off my nips,” she told them.

America was still working the crowd.  If she turned around, would she recognize Biscuit as someone not from her gang?

The three witches and Miss had been talking about removing the smart ones – giving Myles a way out.  It sure would be nice if there were only meatheads and fighty types left behind.  Nobody to do a quick magic read of this stuff.

She reached the next group.

And she glimpsed Gashwad in hiding, motioning frantically.

When she passed the group without giving them anything, Gashwad relaxed.

He knew something she didn’t?

It did mean restarting for the next group.  “Mark on head, cut off dicks, woo.”

“Password?”

“I’m cuter than I am smart, so I don’t know.  Here.  Drink it or don’t.  I’m just making deliveries.”

And so on.  Gashwad crossed the street behind some of the Bitter Street Witch’s soldiers, keeping an eye on her.

He was smiling.

She dropped some pills off for the next group, then a bottle for the next.

As she reached the last group, America was sending the goblins out.  She held her ground as the goblins ran past, and stayed out of America Tedd’s way.

Very cool look.  The top hat and spiked armor over a gaudy, ill-fitting suit.  She almost wanted to join in.

But she remembered the others.  Ramjam singing.  Toadswallow being weird.

Gashwad met her as she carried on, hurrying on her way until she’d reached a dark alley.

He’d drawn the mark on himself.

“There,” she said.  “Why not that one group?  They’re kids.  Kids are dumber.”

“Hennigars.  They were at the school.  Clever, educated, and they can scream out to War, fight past anything you try to give ’em.”

“Ahhh.”

Really, it wasn’t realistic for anyone to go ahead and take any.

But she’d encountered nine groups holding the perimeter.

One group was dumb enough.

One group saw that group partaking and took that as a cue to do it too.

Two out of nine.

America whistled, calling goblins over.  Biscuit had to move over to see why.

Liberty Tedd was walking down the street, hands in the pockets of a cute sports coat with spray paint on it, sunglasses on.  She wore short jean cut-offs even in the cold weather, her shoes and calves dirty from taking a Warrens route, and she didn’t seem bothered.

“So cool,” Biscuit murmured.

“Pshht,” Gashwad scoffed.

“You psshhht so many cool things.  Like being part of the group.”

“Pshht.”

With Liberty’s arrival, a section of America’s forces moved, eager, cheering.  Lucy appeared on a nearby rooftop.  Liberty walked casually past a few buildings, and by the time she got that far, Verona and Avery had showed up too.

Avery jumped down to the road.

The people who’d drank the alcohol and eaten the pills were acting up now.  Getting loud, agitated.

Someone was making one of them vomit, shoving fingers down their throat.  Not the thing to do.  Once they started, they didn’t stop.

In quantities past normal human limits.

America’s shout to her sister was drowned out.  She looked annoyed at the commotion.  Some goblins were pointing and laughing.  Practitioners were getting mad at the ones who were freaking out.

“The kids’ll get mad you’re doing war crimes again,” Gashwad said.

“If it’s not a war crime, is it really worth doing?” Biscuit asked.

“Yeh.”

Liberty stopped in her tracks, about thirty Liberty-paces away from the chaos, commotion, and America’s horde of goblins.

She crossed the street, going to Avery.

“Hey!” America shouted, louder than before, trying to cut past the noise.  The other goblins shut up, at least.  Mostly.

Liberty turned her head but didn’t stop walking.

“What the fuck are you doing?  We have a pact!”

“It’s your turn to do what I want this time, then,” Liberty replied.  “Stop this.”

“No way.  What’s dad going to think?”

Liberty gave her sister a long, sad look.  Then went to Avery.

She hugged Avery, tight, and the two of them talked for a short while like that.

Biscuit craned her head, looking for America in the throng.

She didn’t look happy.  Devastated even.  Like she was a cute goblin who’d been called uncute.

One guy was throwing down, blacked out, knocking people out, shouting out about who he liked, who he didn’t.  It took four people to manage him.  A guy was shitting a geyser and vomiting the same, and the fountain coming out his butt wasn’t enough to get past the pants, exactly, but it produced a foul puddle, and the puddle expanded out enough that America stepped back and away from it.

And once she stepped away, she kept going that direction, turning and walking away.

Leaving the goblins of her group confused and very unhyped, or distracted by the chaos.

Some started to move in Liberty’s direction, but they got mobbed by others.

More chaos.

While they were in disarray, Avery Kelly and Liberty stood together, watching as the groups from Kennet below closed the distance.

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