EV B2 Chapter 53:

I hauled it roughly into a secluded alcove off the main tunnel. Behind me, Astrid and Alana followed, each one dragging one of the unconscious clients. The alcove was narrow, its walls slick with mildew and moisture, but there was enough of a space that I didn’t feel like I was going to be snuck up on if someone was walking through the tunnels nearby.

I carefully set Garrett against the wall while Astrid and Alana began binding the other two. The dim torchlight flickered erratically, casting wavering shadows across everyone’s faces. I could see the slight startlement as the slap I used to wake up Garrett echoed throughout the chamber. His eyes had trouble focusing as they darted nervously around, and his breathing became ragged with anxiety. He started to get up, but my hand planted on his chest prevented him from moving, and the bindings we had attached to his wrists and ankles would have prevented him from going anywhere. He tugged slightly, grimacing.

I studied him for a moment before speaking. “What exactly is the Pale Eye?”

He hesitated, looking away, breaking eye contact, and he briefly glanced toward Astrid, whose face was like ice, though I could personally tell that she was pissed.

“Look, I swear, I don’t know anymore. I’m just a messenger. I don’t know anything.”

I sighed performatively, patiently folding my arms as I leaned back against the wall, suppressing a grimace at the wetness soaking through the back of my shirt. “I understand that you might not be very useful to me,” I said, the threat obvious in my voice. I let that linger, and I could practically hear Garrett’s pulse increase, but I continued, offering him a possible chance at salvation.

“Messengers pick up many things, though, when they’re delivering. What have you heard?”

The terrified man swallowed hard, visibly wrestling with his fear. He sighed in defeat, his shoulders slumping. “Fine. I don’t know a lot of details, but they’re big on revealing hidden truths and exacting divine vengeance or justice or something. They say the gods are lying to us and keeping secrets about Valhalla. That’s their big thing. They just never really tell what those secrets are or why they’re being kept or anything.”

Alana stepped forward away from her captive, the promise of a puzzle capturing her attention. “Secrets? What secrets? Everything we’ve seen so far is rather simple.”

Garrett shook his head, a slight panic setting in. “I told you, I don’t know. But the Prophet is obsessed with finding whatever the gods are hiding. He claims they’re lying to everyone to keep everyone trapped in this tier. That there’s something beyond what we see here. Something that only the gods will let their pets see.”

I raised an eyebrow and exchanged glances with Astrid and Alana. “So they’re trying to rebel against the gods?” I said, disbelief at the stupidity of the notion creeping into my voice. The gods literally created and ran Valhalla. From everything I knew from Mary, my Valkyrie, or anything like that, it wasn’t like there weren’t secrets, but it was a test. It was all a test to see when we could, if we were worthy, stand with them as warriors.

Garrett shrugged, not trying to convince me. “I know it sounds stupid, but honestly, it’s not that clear. Most people who join just want, you know, a quick buck or revenge or something. Probably more than half. A lot believe it’s some sort of big conspiracy, though.”

I leaned in a bit closer, scrutinizing Garrett carefully. “The Prophet has... How would I find him?”

Garrett laughed humorously. “Nobody finds Khaliq. Not directly, anyway. He communicates through notes, messages, hidden dead drops, and if anyone has actually met him, he wears a mask.”

I looked over at Alana, and she nodded. Astrid frowned. Garrett seemed to sense that things were not about to go well for him, so he continued talking.

“People trust him. The messages come true. Predictions happen. His instructions lead to power. Or... he’s built the following based on that. His reputation, not anything else.”

I frowned. That sounded an awful lot like some grand trick that someone was playing. I wanted to assume that Loki was acting as the Prophet or maybe one of his minions. But at the same time, that assumption could be extremely dangerous. And if some mortal actually knew more about Valhalla, well, that was exactly the sort of independent information they wanted to get. Of course, what seemed to be a cult definitely wasn’t exactly the most trustworthy bit of information source.

“All right,” I said finally, nodding slowly. “And what did these clients want?”

Garrett glanced over at the tied-up bodies. “Shade,” he whispered. “It’s dangerous stuff. Makes people hallucinate. Visions, nightmares. It’s addictive, though the addiction doesn’t last past death. Most people use it as poison on their blades or, well, against rivals.”

Astrid frowned. Clearly, she had been expecting it to be the same as the magical drug she had been developing. But Shade was not it.

“Who makes this?”

“I don’t know,” Garrett protested. “I only ever picked it up at dead drops. I never see anything more. Just... I just do what I’m told.”

“And how do you get information? How do you know when the drops will be done, which drops to check, and where to drop them off?”

Garrett frowned. “Well, there’s a meeting. Every few days, at a randomly chosen place where some of the group meets to talk about things.”

“I’m going to need more information. I don’t know when the next one is set. How will I know? Where will you get the dead drop from?”

“I’ll show you,” he protested, and I frowned. If he told us, we would not have much use for keeping him alive at this point.

Alana, though, had a different line of questioning. She stepped forward. “If the Prophet’s goal is uncovering truths and the Pale Eye stands for fighting against the odds, why distribute drugs like this? It seems... tangential at best.”

Garrett nodded. “Yes, it is. It’s..., but it’s more about gaining resources and getting the power to get out of here ourselves. That is destabilizing the current order. In the chaos, maybe something will slip.”

I looked over at Astrid and Alana to see if they had any other questions for him.

“Well, Garrett, you’ve been somewhat useful.”

His eyes widened fearfully. “Look, man, I don’t have a choice. I’m sorry. Valhalla is harsh. Without protection, without a group, you pray. I just wanted some backing.”

“If you have to ask someone for safety, you’ll never receive it,” I said with a smile, reminding me of a quote about safety and freedom. “It’s really a pity what you decided to do with this life.”

“Wait. The Swimming Pig. Tomorrow at noon. There’s a meeting there.”

I paused, and Garrett continued to ramble.

“The... basement with the green door. Just... you have to bring me, and I’ll get you in, I swear, I promise.”

“Thank you, Garrett,” I said. “Because you’re so honest. I’ll make it quick.”

With a flash, I brought my dagger up and through the base of his jaw and into his brain. The body slumped over, and I pulled back my hand before too much blood spilled over the hilt of the dagger and wiped it on his cloak.

Alana and Astrid both were silent for different reasons. Astrid was looking at me with a slight bit of wariness, but Alana just looked at me passively. The complete trust in her gaze that even me executing a prisoner with no warning didn’t shake her at all was unnerving, to say the least.

I looked over at the clients and just shrugged. “We can just leave them there. I would cut their bindings. They’ll find their way out. Did they see your faces?”

Both shook their heads, and I started down the tunnel. “Now that we know where to go, I think we have a good plan. Though ‘Truth or Vengeance’ is a strange catchphrase. It sounds like someone knows more, but even odds, it says it’s Loki playing some sort of game.”

“You really think that would be something he would do?” Astrid asked.

Alana and I both nodded. Maybe it was that we were both directly blessed by him that gave us a better instinct for it.

“Easily.”