Negotiating Dangerous Waters

“So tell me,” the draugr said, leaning forward, “how has life been since you left the banshee compound?”

Norene smiled. “It’s been good. I mean, my house isn’t as nice as the compound, but people are so much nicer.” She looked at me. “Like Margot!”

“Thanks.” I eyed the draugr, wondering what, exactly, he wanted out of Norene, since it was becoming increasingly clear that this time he had no interest in me. Well, one way to find out.

“Do you—” the draugr began.

“What do you want with us?” I winced. That had come out a little more hostile than I’d intended.

The draugr turned cold, dead eyes on me. “Want with you?” He smiled again, but this time it was more a baring of teeth than an expression of amusement. “You are of passing interest to me. I find you amusing, but you have nothing to offer me. Your friend, on the other hand…”

I couldn’t stop myself from grimacing. As I’d expected.

“What can I offer you?” Norene asked, entirely too innocently. “I don’t have a job, and the other banshees think I’m worse than useless.” Despite the severity of the judgement she claimed came from the other banshees, she didn’t seemed bothered by the fact in the slightest. Maybe she was better at hiding things than I’d thought. Or maybe she just didn’t care.

The draugr leaned forward. “Tell me about the banshee compound.”

Norene looked startled. “Oh, I’m not allowed to talk about that.” She shrugged. “Sorry.”

“Why?” the draugr countered. Oh, he was clever. He didn’t hedge and maneuver like he had with Sarai, no, now he seemed honest and straightforward, rather like Norene herself.

“Banshee rules. Even outside the compound—” She leaned forward. “—they know things.”

“What do you care about banshee rules?”

“I don’t, really.” Norene looked thoughtful.

“That’s enough,” I interrupted, standing. “Norene, don’t say anything more.”

“Why not?”

I ignored her question. “You want something, we get something in return.”

The draugr leaned back, studying me through slitted eyes. I felt the sudden urge to sit down again, but resisted. “You’re more clever than I gave you credit for,” he said finally.

I blinked. “Uh, thanks?” Well, there went my impression of a tough negotiator.

“What is it you want, then?”

My plan hadn’t really gone that far, so I thought fast. “Water and electricity for Norene’s house.” I paused. “And repairs.”

“You could do that?” Norene stared at the draugr, seeming impressed.

The draugr smiled. “If sufficiently motivated.”

“Five minutes of questions that Norene will answer, and more later once we see some progress on the house,” I suggested.

The draugr just looked at me, a superior little smirk on his face. “Ten minutes.”

I rolled my eyes. “Fine. Ten minutes.” He didn’t know just how much Norene could talk about nothing at all.

The Renegade Banshee

I took a deep breath before we entered the draugar’s house. Yes, it smelled as bad as I remembered. I looked over at Norene to see how she was faring.

She sniffed experimentally. “That is quite strong. But not as bad as I was expecting.”

I stared at her.

“I know, I know, you said not to say anything about the smell.”

That wasn’t why I was staring, but explaining that to Norene would only prolong the discussion of smell.

“This way, please.” The spriggan gestured at a half-open door. “Master Stenberg does not like to be kept waiting.”

The less than complimentary response I muttered was drowned by Norene’s friendlier one: “Yeah, waiting’s a drag.” Either she was entirely oblivious to the spriggan’s increasingly nervous manner, or she chose to ignore it by leading the way into the room.

I was beginning to feel rather nervous as well. It was one thing to come here with Sarai’s confidence. Norene’s confidence was nowhere near as reassuring.

“The zombie who refuses to eat and the renegade banshee,” the draugar announced as we approached. “Took your time, didn’t you, Jowan?”

The spriggan bowed with a stiff flourish. “Many apologies, Master.”

“Leave us.”

The spriggan was out the door even before Norene had a chance to say goodbye.

“You wanted to see us?” Norene asked, her expression of open, innocent curiosity.

“Please, sit.” The draugar gestured at the chairs, which were as disgusting as the last time I’d been here.

I sat gingerly in one of the chairs and breathed very shallowly. It didn’t help much. “Did you get any response to my letter?” I hoped being direct would serve me as well as it had last time, and keep the encounter short. If it dragged on too long, I was a little worried I might pass out from lack of oxygen.

The draugar raised one dismissive hand, wafting more of his stench in my direction. “Far too early for that.” He turned to Norene “I have been waiting to meet you for a long time.”

The pit in my stomach got heavier. This smelled entirely too much like political maneuvering.

“Why?” Norene asked. “You could have just asked, like you did now. I always like to meet new people.”

“Astute observation.” He leaned forward, and I struggled not to gag. “You are as interesting as they say.”

The second statement was almost certainly true. I suspected, however, that Norene’s question had much more to do with her oblivious innocence rather than any astuteness.

Norene blinked at the draugar. “They?”

“You have quite the reputation. The renegade banshee who lives with the short-lived dead.” The draugar smiled, revealing rotting gums and teeth that were black where they weren’t missing. “You are a frequent topic of conversation among me and my associates.”

Oh, this could in no way be considered good. I wondered if there was any polite way to flee the house, but figured even if there was, Norene wouldn’t follow.

A Zombie, a Banshee, and a Spriggan Go to a Business Meeting…

“So, do draugr smell as bad as everyone says?” Norene asked, skipping alongside the spriggan like a child who’d just been granted permission to get whatever she wanted from a sweetshop.

I trailed behind them, not feeling nearly as cheerful. “Don’t comment on the smell.”

Norene turned to look back at me. “Why not? I’ve heard all kinds of things about how draugr smell.”

I shrugged. Norene might be better company than Sarai (or, at least, friendlier), but Sarai had seemed to actually know what she was doing. Norene…well. She may know a thing or two about banshee politics, but I was fairly certain street smarts were not something she used much.

“I think you’ll find that Mistress Lucas speaks with surprising insight for someone so new to the area.” The spriggan half-turned to give a little bow in my direction. “Body odour is not something Master Stenberg takes kindly to discussing.”

“Wait, how do you know that?” Norene fell back to walk beside me, her skipping mellowing into a more sedate walk. “Does that mean you’ve met the draugar? Already? Why didn’t you tell me? What was he like? How did you meet him? Was it—”

“Norene…”

She ducked her head. “Sorry, I got carried away again.”

“Which question did you want to ask me first?”

The bounce returned to the banshee’s step. “How did you get to meet him? They say he only meets with influential people, and zombies, well…”

“Nobody likes zombies,” I finished for her. “Yeah, I’ve gotten that impression. An estrie called Sarai took me to meet him. She helped me make a deal with him to get something across to the living side.”

“Why would you need to get something over there? They have everything we have, plus a lot we don’t.” Norene tilted her head to the side. “Well, except for dead things. But that’s the whole point of the living side/dead side divide, so…”

“I sent over a research proposal that would allow me to get some of those things they don’t have here.”

“O-oh, that makes sense. Did it work?”

“I don’t know yet.” I directed my next comment at the spriggan. “Perhaps I’m about to find out?”

“Patience, Mistress Lucas,” the spriggan replied. “My master prefers to conduct his business personally, not through intermediaries.”

“Which is why he sent you to get me, I suppose,” I retorted. After the encounter with the lich and spending so much time waiting in line only to leave empty-handed, I was feeling a bit waspish.

“Mister Stenberg conducts his business how he chooses, regardless of what you think of him,” the spriggan replied, his serenity entirely uncompromised by my attitude.

I resisted the urge to roll my eyes.

Don’t Dare Defy the Draugr

“Margot Lucas!”

I didn’t recognise the voice, and a quick glance around the courtyard of the Distribution Office didn’t reveal anyone who looked to be trying to get my attention. I turned to Norene. “Did you hear someone call my name? I didn’t just imagine that, did I?”

Norene was looking about, a curious expression on her face. “Oh, I heard it, but that doesn’t rule out us both having imagined it.”

I groaned. “I miss the living side. We had actual rules about using magic there.”

“Really?” Norene turned back to face me. “Like what?”

“I’ll tell you about it later.” I rubbed at my forehead. I was beginning to develop a headache. That wasn’t surprising in and of itself; what was surprising was that I hadn’t had one until now. Maybe it was a zombie thing. Or maybe it was just a being-dead-thing.

“Boo!”

“Aah!” I jumped, then whirled around to find myself face to face with a very large head. “Aah!”

“Oh, hey,” Norene greeted the creature, turning around to face him far more calmly than I had. “You’re a spriggan, aren’t you? I’ve never met a spriggan before.”

The large-headed man bowed, making several flourishing gestures with his hands. “And a pleasure to make your acquaintance as well, Mistress Rafferty.”

I leaned over to whisper in Norene’s ear. “What’s a spriggan?”

“Among other things, we have perfectly good hearing,” the spriggan replied.

I turned to face him hastily, half expecting to feel my face heat from embarrassment. But flushing would have required blood actually moving through my veins. So there were some benefits to being a zombie after all.

“But to answer your question, we are a sort of fae. Much like the banshees, our kind was exiled here because the other fae don’t like us much. I am called Jowan.” He bowed again, with just as many flourishes, this time in my direction.

“Nice to meet you,” I murmured. A type of fae that other fae didn’t like? That couldn’t mean anything good. The fae on the living side were well known for being tricksters with little regard for the cares and interests of others, including their own kind. How much worse would spriggans have to be to be rejected by the other fae creatures?

“Now, down to business.” The spriggan rubbed his small hands together. It really was disconcerting to look at a creature with a head so much larger than the rest of his body. “My employer has requested a meeting with you, Mistress Lucas, and you, Mistress Rafferty.”

“Does your employer have a name?” I figured the only sensible approach was one with plenty of caution.

At this, the spriggan looked mildly annoyed. “The draugr, Vidar Stenberg, of course. And your presence is requested immediately.”

My eyebrows went up at that. “And if we’d prefer to be somewhere else?”

A smile I could only describe as sinister crossed the spriggan’s face, but Norene interrupted before he could say anything. “Why would we want to be somewhere else? I’ve heard of Vidar, but he doesn’t just meet with anyone. Should be exciting!”

“Right…” I could feel my headache getting worse.

The Dead Treated to Modern Efficiency

I looked at Sarai. “Bargain?” I whispered. “I thought you said he would help me.”

“Do you get things for free on the living side?” she retorted in a normal tone of voice.

I darted a look at Vidar, but he only looked amused.

“I am dead, not deaf.”

I blushed. Or at least, it felt like I blushed. Could zombies blush? “Um…I didn’t mean…”

“I like your friend,” Vidar told Sarai.

“Yes, she’s charming,” she replied, in a tone clearly meant to be sarcastic. I decided not to be offended. “Now, I believe we were bargaining.”

The draugr’s eyes glittered. “Yes. What can you offer me?”

“I can arrange patrols.”

“Which patrol?”

“Which patrols do you need?”

I looked back and forth between Sarai and Vidar, but their expressions were no more enlightening than their words. Their poker faces were better than the ones I’d seen on actual poker players’ faces.

“Which patrols can you arrange?”

“You’re just going in a circle,” I interrupted. Sarai and Vidar both looked at me. Both dropped their poker faces in order to express their displeasure. “Well, you are!”

“This is how negotiations work,” Sarai explained, with the air of patience one might use with a child who will never understand the topic at hand.

I just rolled my eyes. “Yeah, and ‘the way things work’ is always the most efficient. This would go so much faster if you,” I turned to Vidar, “just said what you want, and you,” I turned to Sarai, “just said what you could offer. Then you find the middle ground, and then you’re done!”

Both draugr and estrie were still staring at me. Vidar had resumed his amused expression, but Sarai still looked cross. Neither showed any sign of completing their ‘negotiations’ any time soon.

“Alright, fine. Let me guess.” I turned to Vidar. “You want some patrols around dusk and or dawn to look the other way while you conduct your business.” I turned to Sarai. “And you can only arrange a certain number of those patrols without drawing unwanted attention. I’m guessing it’s probably around one or two a week.”

Now both Sarai and Vidar were giving me almost identical looks of surprise.

“Am I right?”

“Um…” Sarai looked around the room, anywhere but at me.

“Well…” Vidar looked similarly awkward.

“I’m right. So you just tell Sarai your preferences, and she’ll tell you if that’ll work. Then we can all get out of here.” I meant out of the smell, but Sarai’s instructions had been quite clear on that point. “Okay? Go.”

There was another pause as Sarai and Vidar composed themselves. Then negotiations began again—this time more efficiently.

Proposal for a Corpse

When Sarai had warned me not to say anything about the man’s appearance or smell, I had thought she was being melodramatic. The entire dead side didn’t smell so great, and I had already figured no one here was too concerned about physical appearance judging by the nonexistent upkeep of the buildings. I had thought I was prepared. I was wrong.

To say that Vidar’s house smelled like something had rotted to death was an understatement. To say that he looked like he had rotted to death was also an understatement. He looked and smelled like a half-decomposed corpse, and that was putting it nicely. I doubted there was any detergent that could get his smell out of my clothes; I was certain his face (with half his skin falling off, the other half already gone) would give me nightmares for months.

“Are you going to sit?” Sarai gestured at the armchair next to the one she already occupied.

I opened my mouth to object—I was fairly certain I had seen a cockroach disappear into the exposed stuffing—but stopped when I saw the look in her eye. Instead of running away screaming, which was what my instincts were telling me to do, I perched gingerly on the edge of the seat.

“So.” Vidar sat forward in his own chair. “What is it I can offer you, Freyja?”

Sarai tilted her head, clearly annoyed. “It’s not for me, Vidar. My friend here has a request.”

“And what can your friend do for me?”

I gulped as two pairs of eyes turned on me. I had to remind myself that I had entered this house of my own free will. “I don’t know. What do you want?”

Vidar looked back at Sarai. “Just how new is she?”

“Very,” Sarai replied, her voice bone-dry. “I had thought to negotiate on her behalf, though she can articulate her request better than I.”

Vidar nodded slowly. “I suppose that is acceptable.” His gaze swung back to me. “Explain your request, then.”

I started to take a deep breath, then stopped, opting for several shallow ones instead so as to retain my composure. As strange as the rest of this was, this I could do. “For too long, people here have taken for granted that they have to consume some part of dead bodies to survive, be it brains, blood, or something else. I aim to change that. With the right tools and research, I believe I can devise a more sustainable, plant-based source of sustenance.” I paused. How to phrase it? I opted for the direct approach. “I’ve been told such resources are unavailable on this side of the city, and that you are the person to talk to in order to obtain things from the living side. What I need is a copy of my proposal sent to the appropriate people on the living side. Can you arrange that?”

“Hmm.” Vidar looked back to Sarai. “Intriguing. You said you were willing to bargain on her behalf?”

Don’t Comment on the Smell

Sarai put out a hand to stop me as we approached a normal looking house. Normal looking by my standards, anyway, which by the standards here was quite nice, considering all its windows were intact, the walls and roof were relatively free of moss and lichen, and the small patch of garden out front looked as if it had been tended sometime in the past year.

“So, this is where your friend lives?” I asked.

Sarai shook her head. “Not my friend.”

“But I thought you said—”

“I said someone you could talk to. I didn’t say he was my friend, or that it’s necessarily wise to spend too much time in his company.”

“Right. Explain why we’re here again?”

Sarai sighed. “Things here, they’re either official, which means waiting ten years for the Immortals to give you the time of day, or they’re not.”

“Which means…”

“Which means dealing with more timely but less…savoury individuals.”

“Okay.”

“Just…do your best not to antagonise him, okay? And don’t, whatever you do, make any sort of comment about his appearance or smell.”

I sniffed. “I don’t think that will be a problem. This whole place smells like a particularly nasty sewer. I doubt I’ll notice any difference.”

Sarai just looked at me.

“Okay, I won’t say anything about the smell.”

She nodded once, then led the way up to the door. She knocked three times, then waited.

When several minutes passed without any kind of response, I frowned. “I thought you said this guy was timely.”

Sarai shrugged. “He is, compared to the Immortals.”

“Great,” I muttered.

Sarai banged her fist against the door. “Vidar!” she yelled, making me jump. “I know you’re in there!”

I jumped again at the sound of an angry roar and a series of pounding footsteps. “I thought you said not to antagonise him?” I whispered.

“I said you shouldn’t antagonise him. I didn’t say anything about myself.”

I frowned. Before I could think of a satisfactory reply, the door swung open, and I had to struggle not to gag. Sarai hadn’t been kidding about the smell. It smelled like something had rotted to death in that house. And it looked so nice on the outside, too.

“Sarai,” a deep voice growled. “I thought I told you to stay out of my business.”

“Yeah, and I told you to stop doing business that breaks the Immortals’ rules, but you never listened to me,” she retorted.

When I finally got my gag reflex under control, I looked up in time to see Sarai’s massive friend give a big belly laugh. This sent another waft of stench that made my eyes fill with water. I turned away, coughing.

“And yet here you are, eager to do business, no doubt. Come inside and introduce your zombie friend, and we can see what we might do for each other.”