But one thread isn’t shadowed. It shifts and strikes at another, a more personal thread. My Hand disappears, and I watch as the green-and-red thread that leads toward Kasva shifts, intent on dealing with the next Hand.
“We better get moving,” I say, opening my eyes again. “We just lost one of my Hands.”
Vrasceids’s eyes flick up, noting something, then he nods. “Yes, Shogun. Lord Mikito has been informed.”
I snort, but we both shut up and hurry forward. To join the fight or free the prisoners. Whichever comes first.
***
“Harry. You’ve looked better,” I say, grinning at the reporter.
I cast a Cleanse to punctuate the point, wiping the dirt, blood, and snot from his body. The dark-skinned British reporter is gaunt, seeming to have lost thirty pounds in the two weeks we’ve been gone. He’s clad in prison garb—yellow clothing with stripes of green and grey—meant to restrict his Mana regeneration and leave him in a low Mana state.
Harry Prince, the Unfiltered Eye, Galactic Investigative Reporter—Barium Level, the Unvarnished Truth, Heroic Survivor, Friend of the Erethran Empire,… (Galactic Correspondent Level 19) (M)
HP: 174/780
MP: 21/2740
Conditions: Reporter’s Luck, Nose for Trouble, Just a Bystander, Information Locus, Network News—Barium Grade, Mana Withdrawal (Severe)
“Let’s get you changed, shall we?” I touch his arm, ignoring the protests from Vrasceids and Harry.
The man flinches away from me, and I try not to take it personally. But I keep a tight grip on Harry’s arm as I access the prison garb’s Status, bypassing the automated pain deployment, shutting down its alarm system, and deactivating the suit via my System Edit Skill.
“You shouldn’t be doing that,” Ali says disapprovingly. He can’t see me using my System Edit Skill, it’s locked from him, but he can sense the changes in my body.
Even as the Spirit speaks, Harry is breathing deeply as Mana floods back into him for the first time in a long while. His health climbs once more, as does his Mana regeneration.
“Am I… am I really free?” he says, his voice cracking.
“Yes.”
I’m not even done speaking when Harry is peeling at the clothing, ripping it off his body and leaving furrows in his own skin. He hisses as he tears it off, portions of his skin coming free as embedded nanospikes tear open wounds, but he doesn’t stop. Not even when he is bathed by healing spells that Vrasceids throws on him, forcing wounds to close just so that the reporter doesn’t inadvertently kill himself.
It’s only when he’s down to his skivvies that Harry stops, holding the tattered remnants of the prison garb before him to ask hesitantly, “You didn’t bring any clothing for me, did you?”
“Just grab it from your inventory,” I say.
Harry winces, muttering. I only barely catch it. “They took it from me. Everything I ever stored.”
My fists clench as I realize I didn’t plan ahead for that. Thankfully, someone did. Vrasceids hands over an armored jumpsuit sized for the reporter. In short order, the rest of us exit the small cell to offer Harry some privacy as he gets dressed.
We step out in time for us to watch the political prisoner’s swishing behind leave. And for Mikito to step out of another cell, holding the head of the Flayer. Behind her, one of her clan members stumbles out, clutching a missing third arm stump.
“Harry?” she asks, looking toward the cell. Her Blitz is gone, since most of the fighting is over, though she’s still Hasted. She breaks into a wide smile as Harry walks out.
I turn just in time to see the reporter’s jaw drop as he spots the head Mikito holds.
“Is that…?” Harry says, focused.
“Yes.” She walks over and hands him the head, which he takes automatically. A moment later, she’s put away Hitoshi to give Harry a hard hug. “Sorry.”
“For what?” Harry says awkwardly as he juggles being hugged and holding a severed head. Luckily, Mikito doesn’t care about being splashed with the blood. “And what am I supposed to do with this?”
“Whatever you want,” I say. “But we should move. That’s two.”
My pronouncement robs Mikito of the momentary joy of reunion, as it does the fan club. They offer muttered assurances to Harry, and the minimap dots move in hurried but controlled haste. We all hustle, dragging Harry along after he rechristens his empty inventory with the severed head.
Somehow, this has gone much better than expected thus far. Which means things will go to hell some time soon. For now though, we have Harry and are on the way to the second part of our plan.
As we run, I cast Extra Hands again, drawing forth another friend to leave for Kasva to play with when he arrives.
Held in Vrasceid’s arms, Harry wails as we drag him out of his prison. “Two what!?!”
Chapter 21
The slap cracks across my face, not budging my face but making Katherine shake her hand in pain after the strike. A moment later, she’s nearly screaming into my face. “What the hell are you doing?”
“Getting Harry back. And tilting the odds,” I reply calmly.
We’re in the lower edges of the sewers, a hidden meeting area offered to us by the Lady of Shadows that she guarantees none will be watching. Except perhaps her. But I don’t call her out on that.
See? I can learn when not to annoy my allies.
“Are you insane? Your Hands are causing widespread destruction throughout the city. You might have killed a couple of diplomats, but you’ve just earmarked Earth and humanity as deranged killers who have no respect for diplomatic norms!” Katherine shouts, utterly furious. “Why didn’t you check with me or Rob?”
“I didn’t have time. And I also knew you woudn’t agree to this,” I say. “But this is necessary.”
“Rob was right. You really are a loose cannon.” Katherine shakes her head with disgust. “Even if we win this vote, we won’t win the next one. Did you consider that?”
A part of me wants to quail under the disgust she exhibits. I push it aside, reminding myself of my goals. The point of what I intended to do today. “I did. And we don’t have a lot of time before the vote. So I’m going to be blunt.”
Katherine braces herself, casting her gaze toward Mikito, who stands guard a short distance away, and Harry, who is being brought up to speed by Ruvuds in the corner.
I flick my fingers, bringing Katherine’s attention back to me. “I need you to give me your proxy.”
“What!?!”
“Your voting proxy,” I say. “Give it to me.”
“No! Why would I do that?”
“Because if you don’t, you’ll die?” I say, cocking an eyebrow. “As you said, you’re persona non grata. Earth and humanity. If you try to show up, they’ll kill you.”
“I’m protected.”
“I’m pretty sure they don’t care anymore.” I gesture around, taking in the world around and all the hell that has gone on. “Or do you think it’s worth the risk?”
“How about you? You’re even more wanted than me,” Katherine says. “Wait, were you planning to force my hand?”
“No.” Then, reluctantly, I add. “Not exactly. I have other reasons for what I did, but forcing you to give me the proxy is a lucky coincidence of sorts. More like a… conjunction of interest?”
My search for the right terms makes Katherine hiss again before she stalks away. I watch as she strides around in a circle, windmilling her hands. Her lips move, uttering breathless imprecations as she forces herself to calm.
Eventually, she returns to me. We do need to try to adjust the vote, no matter what she thinks. “How do you intend to survive going to the chambers?”
“Can’t say.” When Katherine’s eyes narrow, I point upward. “They might be listening. But trust me, they might try to end me. But you might have realized, I’m really hard to kill.”
“He’ll be there.”
“Kasva?” I nod. “Maybe. I can take him.” The look she gives me is full of doubt, making me chuckle darkly. “Don’t worry. I have a plan.”