Dungeon 42

Fruitless

Chapter 90

Tiller woke at a touch from Elim to the black of night. A few hours before dawn, if she had to hazard a guess. She looked at Elim expectantly. After the fuss with Storm, he'd said he'd gotten a message from 42 indicating they'd need to find a particular kind of spot to contact her.

Elim gestured, and Tiller rolled out of her bedroll to follow him. In the dark, she could hear the whisper of the wind in the trees and the padding of light feet. They weren't alone, but she'd already figured Elim's mysterious companion would be about. She had no idea what it was, just that Storm muttered darkly about the creature.

Tiller took her hawk's displeasure as a sign that it was a sweet creature with a gentle temperament. There were few things Storm hated more than likable beasts, the other being cute children. It was probably why he'd tried to pick a fight with Elim over Bess.

The journey didn't take long, with Elim in the lead using his strange magic light. Not more than a few minutes, and they were at a forbidding group of trees at the foot of a little hill.

"I can't get too far away, but I'll try to let you have some privacy," Elim offered, sounding nervous. He gestured at what looked like it could have been a cave. Every hair on the back of Tiller's neck stood on end. She was not a fan of tight spaces or being underground.

"This has to be in there?" Tiller asked as her mouth went dry. She looked at Elim suspiciously, wondering if he'd somehow figured out her discomfort with such places.

"Fraid so," Elim replied. He looked a little perplexed by her hesitance, so Tiller figured it was just bad luck. She fought down a frustrated sigh and started to walk forward. This was the ribbon on her dogshit week as far as she was concerned.

"Tiller, you okay?" Elim asked, sounding worried. Tiller nodded as she didn't trust her mouth to construct the lie believably. Oddly enough, darkness was her friend as she stepped in and found she couldn't see a damned thing. The cave hadn't looked that big when she was coming forward, but even holding out her arms, she couldn't touch the sides.

"How far in do I need to go?" Tiller asked.

"You're fine where you are," a feminine voice replied. Tiller nearly jumped out of her skin. It was soft and kind of raspy with a weird layering. Like two people talking together but a little out of sync. She'd never heard anything like it before.

In front of her, a small pair of green lights bobbed and began to grow larger. They didn't precisely brighten as they did, but the larger they became, the more she could start to make out a shadowy suggestion of a face.

"H-Hello… I take it you’re Mistress 42," Tiller managed as her guts tightened. The lights were some kind of green fire pouring from the sockets where eyes would be on another creature. She wasn't sure why or how, but something changed subtly. She could make out a suggestion of a body to go with the face. Lithe, feminine, and smoke-like, it loomed above her.

"Correct, and please, just 42 will do," 42 replied. Tiller nodded, catching a flash of black teeth in a mouth she really didn't want to think about.

"Now, Elim mentioned you want to speak with me. Did you have questions about something?" 42 asked. Her tone was almost congenial despite her voice being ill-suited to it. Tiller was reasonably proud she wasn't pissing herself and managed another nod.

"Elim said he cut a deal with you to save his mother's life," Tiller started. Elim hadn't told her willingly. She'd had to drag it out of him, but he'd told her in the end. Like with most things, he was just utterly, uselessly stubborn about it.

"He did. He's agreed to trade time in my service for the potions I gave him, plus ongoing payment for the duration of our contract," 42 supplied without missing a beat.

"Is there a way for him to get out of that? Like if he paid you back or I took his place," Tiller asked flatly.

"Tiller!" Elim cut in. Tiller just rolled her eyes, already expecting his offer of privacy to be a lie. He hadn't wanted her to talk to 42. There had never been a chance he'd let her do so without listening in.

"No," 42 replied.

"Mistress, this is why I didn't want this to happen," Elim said sharply.

"Then maybe you should have explained things better," Tiller shot back venomously.

"That ain't fair. I just don't want you getting hurt on my account," Elim said hotly. Looking at the pair, 42 crossed her arms and let out a sigh.

"For fucks sake. Elim, just let her talk," 42 said, voice rising in volume though it still sounded quite somehow.

"Mistress," Elim started but fell silent at a glare.

"Look, if you cut her off, this will just get worse. Let me finish talking to her, then you can say your bit," 42 said sternly. Reluctantly Elim nodded then backed off. He went outside the cave or seemed to, given how the dim light from outside flashed briefly.

"Okay, he'll be good… for a couple minutes anyway. So ask away," 42 said.

"Why can't he get out of the contract?" Tiller asked without hesitation.

"Because I have no reason to let him out of it, mostly. Also, before you ask, I'm not interested in trading for you. You seem nice enough, but I already know I can rely on him," 42 said evenly.

"That's… that's all? Because it's convenient to you?" Tiller asked, taken aback. She'd expected something along the lines of arcane ritual rules or the demands of magic honor or something. The truth being practical hadn't been something she'd expected.

"Look, I'm a scary shadow monster, not an idiot. Most of my decisions are based on personal convenience," 42 said simply. Tiller stared, caught mentally flat-footed in surprise. She hadn't expected the shadow monster to call itself one. This was the second strike against her fundamental understanding of the situation.

"Elim said you're a dungeon master," Tiller ventured. That wasn't something she'd had to pull like teeth. Storm had recognized the potion bottle and the lingering magic as coming from one.

To Tiller, it had just been a fantastically detailed bottle in the shape of a leaf. One that seemed like it had to have come from fairies or something else mythical. She'd been around some wonderful artisans' work and knew the bottle hadn't come from human hands.

"That I am," 42 said agreeably.

"Then can I make my own deal with you?" Tiller asked.

"No. I'm pretty sure Elim would be furious with both of us if I did… Besides, I don't really know you. Elim was in need, bad enough I didn't doubt his motive. So you… you're a wildcard," 42 explained.

"Why do Elim's feelings about it matter?" Tiller asked. She was more perplexed about that part than any other.

"Do you think they shouldn't?" 42 countered.

"I think I don't really understand you. My demonic hawk was quick to make a deal with me instead of… someone else and not for a special reason. I'd just prepared a better bribe for him," Tiller conceded. Thinking about that and the way the bird had flown greedily to her almost made her smile. Her brother could rot for all she cared, family tradition be damned.

"Demons and demonic creatures are a whole different kind of thing. Not that I know any other dungeon masters personally," 42 offered with a shrug. After talking with her for a few minutes, Tiller wasn't feeling intimidated anymore. Or at least not as much as she had at the start.

42 was still rather fearsome to look at, but she sounded more or less like a person. A bit like someone's mom, really, though not Elim's specifically. Jessica had a more dignified air while 42 mostly seemed more the long-suffering type.

"I've already made a deal with a demonic hawk. It seems like I could get a lot better out of one with you... and I'd rather Elim not push me out," Tiller offered. The last bit stung as it came off her lips. It was true, but she was casting it as bait rather than admitting it freely. Her family was shit, but they knew how to make deals. Building rapport was important, and looking a little vulnerable didn't hurt if you knew what you were doing.

"Well, then you definitely shouldn't make a deal with me. Going behind his back won't help you make a decent relationship with him," 42 said simply.

"Relationship?" Tiller asked, dumbfounded.

"You want to date him or something, right? Whatever your local word for courtship is... Or am I way off the mark?" 42 asked. Tiller opened her mouth to reply, then closed it again. Most of her life revolved around working with people, not making friends, let alone looking for more.

"I mean, even a good friendship should have a solid foundation. At least stable enough that you don't think the other party will run off and make contracts with monsters behind your back," 42 continued. She either didn't notice or was ignoring Tiller's unease.

"If you really want to make a deal, talk to Elim first. The upfront cost might be your friendship with him," 42 said solemnly.

"Right," Tiller said flatly. Her face felt like it was on fire. Her mother had always called her impulsive, but she'd never given the matter much thought. Probably a rather obvious warning sign in hindsight.

42 gave a shrug then seemed to fade from view. Something in the air changed after a moment and Tiller had the feeling she was alone. A welcome development as she had a head full of uncomfortable questions to sort out. Ones she could have lived without. Like why exactly she'd been willing to tangle herself up with trouble of such a magnitude in the first place.

Going by what Elim had told her, the deal he'd made gave a lot of tangible rewards. Making a deal herself would be beneficial from a purely mercenary study of the matter. She'd known that going in but hadn't been interested in making a deal for its own sake.

Tiller's idea had been what she'd first said, switching places with Elim by hook or crook. It wasn't something she'd have done for nearly anyone else she knew. Elim fit into an illustrious group of exactly three people she actually cared about personally.

"I'm guessing you already knew how this would go," Tiller offered. Elim shifted and cleared his throat in embarrassment behind her.

"I suspected, though I didn't know... I was kind of hoping she'd scare you off," Elim admitted.

"Might have worked if you didn't get in the middle like that. She was pretty intimidating until that part," Tiller lied. Of course, 42 was intimidating the whole way through. It was only that she'd come expecting worse that let Tiller get through it.

"Shit," Elim cursed in frustration. Tiller smiled at that, glad to get under his skin a bit.

"Look... the other thing 42 said? Don't worry about it any. I won't push you away, but I'm not expecting anything," Elim offered awkwardly.

"Okay, but could you help me out of here? My legs seem to have stopped working," Tiller asked. Since the conversation with 42 ended, she'd been trying to leave the cave. Unfortunately, her legs flat out wouldn't listen.

"Oh, wow, yeah. No problem," Elim said and hurried to pull her out. Tiller was glad Storm was off sulking somewhere. The bastard would have fallen out the air laughing if he'd seen the state she was in.