Only Villains Do That

“Jassner,” I said aloud into the echoing, expectant silence, “wanted to be a messenger and travel to different cities. He would hang around the trade roads, watching the couriers pass by and asking any who’d talk with a Gutter Rat about their travels. I wonder, Uncle Gently—did you pick him as a sacrifice because he was more likely than most to escape your control?”

To his credit, Gentle drew in a breath, straightening his shoulders and hardening his expression to answer me.

“I—”

It was a rhetorical question.

Immolate.

Shell-shocked the Gutter Rats might generally be by the reality of their lives in the Gutters, but nobody can watch that unprepared and not react. It had taken me a depressingly high number of repetitions of that spell to stand there in cold silence while it ran its course, feeling nothing.

Many yelled, a few fled the room; several started crying. But in a sight that made me suddenly, crushingly depressed despite how neatly it played into my own agenda, quite a few of the children watched the only caregiver they’d ever known screaming while he burned alive with expressions that were as cold as mine, or even overtly satisfied.

My god. Kids will bond with anyone who looks after them; many people will rally to the defense of even the most openly abusive parents. What had he been doing to these poor children, to create such a cavernous vacuum of loyalty? If it wasn’t playing out right in front of my eyes, I wouldn’t have believed it.

I guess teaching your children to be hard-hearted and rely on no one can backfire pretty badly, when it’s your turn to need someone to care about you.

As usual, it took around a minute for the effects to face. Uncle Gently was left quivering on the floor, his mismatched and bedraggled finery singed and smoking in a few places.

“Ladhnet,” I said loudly.

“No,” he croaked. “No more—”

“Ladhnet was a fan of mine. She was getting closer to the age when you turn Rats out of the Nest, and did not want to become an Alley Cat—which you were trying to pressure her into, because you got a kickback from one of the madams. She laughed and cheered when the whores beat the shit out of the gangs. I’m seeing a pattern in the kids you decided to get rid of.”

“No more—!”

Immolate.

From the corner of my eye, I saw Lamm’s jaw working soundlessly as he watched this, the flames of ultimate torture making a bright reflection in his eyes. A few of the ladies had averted their cowled faces from the spectacle of Uncle Gently’s suffering, but just as many were staring down at him in ruthless satisfaction. They hadn’t had it as rough as the Gutter Rats, but all of them were harder than the spoiled highborn ladies they’d once been.

There was just something about seeing the obviously guilty punished that helped cleanse a soul stained by the suffering those guilty had caused. Even if it wasn’t the same man who’d harmed them, there was catharsis in the symbol alone. In the revelation that the mighty burned and bled just the same as the weak they victimized.

“You always thought Tonnon was a waste of space,” I said inexorably when the flames subsided again. “He didn’t talk, didn’t acknowledge most people. You only kept him around because he was a genius at catching crawns. He loved crawns, knew all the different varieties, where and how they lived, how to catch each kind at any given time of year. When he cried because he couldn’t handle the noise or the crowd, you’d have the bigger boys douse him in canal water and lock him in a closet. Where I’m from, we know what the autism spectrum is; a boy like that could have been cared for by people who knew how to care for him.” I was usually so good at staying in control when I was in performance mode, but the white-hot beast inside me was snarling, clawing its way up; I was struggling to keep it under a semblance of control. It broke through in the roughening of my voice, the way I had to clench my hands into fists, gouging my palms with my own nails for focus. “And there is a deep, dark crevice in hell for monsters who abuse those children. Let me give you a taste.”

Immolate!

He screamed less this time. I knew the healing effect of Immolate would remedy even the damage done to the throat from overwork, but I also knew my healing powers were ineffective on mental trauma. I guess everybody reaches a point where they can’t scream anymore.

Some of the Rats were refusing to watch now, but only some.

“Sildnit wanted to be an adventurer,” I said, raising my voice above the noise of Uncle Gently’s quiet weeping after the third round of fire receded. “Just like so many children. You never got on her case about that, because you considered it a hopeless dream for any of your Rats—because you don’t actually think they have any value or potential. No, you only punished her during the spring and summer, because she kept leaving the city to pick flowers instead of begging or stealing the way you told her. Sildnit really loved flowers. She said they reminded her there was more to life than the Gutters. Can’t have that, now can we, Uncle Gently?”

“P-please—”

“Save your begging for Virya, she had more of a sense of humor than I do. Immolate!”

Even the most horrific of things can become routine amazingly fast. I was starting to feel that much of the terror had been leeched from the room through sheer repetition and overexposure. Faces were growing dour and tired, bodies less stiff and tense. Even Gently made less and less noise with each Immolation.

The blinding rage had…not settled, but calmed. It was not going anywhere; it was willing to wait. The moment was coming.

“Nadro was a real smooth-talker,” I said once there was quiet enough to speak again. “Very good at wheedling coins out of people. Seems like it’d be a valuable skill to you, Gently. He was also really good at talking his way out of punishment when you were annoyed—even better at getting the bigger kids you liked to have bully the others to back down. Maybe that was why you decided you could do without him, yeah? Because in the end, none of them matter all that much to you. All that ever mattered was your control.”

I fell silent. This time, he didn’t beg, just hunching his shoulders and waiting for it.

I waited, too. The seconds ticked on, the anticipation built. Until finally, Gently dared to peek up at me, his face twisted with the uncertainty that was the closest thing he had left to hope.

Then I cast Immolate.

Because punishment was one thing—punishment was a start. But I was in the business of vengeance, and I had come here tonight promising to commit Evil. I’ll never again be able to claim I’m a decent person, but I am a man of my word.

“Lord Seiji.” Goose’s voice was quiet, but audible even through the crackling of flames that wreathed the twitching shape of Uncle Gently spasming on the floor. He was currently in that later stage where a person couldn’t scream even if they wanted it, because you can’t really do that without lungs or a larynx. “I thought the plan was not to do this part in front of the children.”

I nodded, slowly. “Yeah. Change of plans, though. I learned recently that no less than the paladin Rhydion is sponsoring the Gutter Rats in general to have a place in the Convocation orphanage in the middle ring. He’s had King’s Guild adventurers down here all day making the offer.” I looked around at the assembled Rats; they were listening, most now watching me. A few were sneering at Uncle Gently’s suffering, but I doubted they were too focused to hear what I was saying. “And that is a good offer. I came here planning to take responsibility for the havoc I’ve caused, to take any Rats willing to come with me under my protection and get them out of Lady Gray’s reach. But you know what, the Convocation can do that too, and probably offer them a better life. No—undoubtedly offer them a better life.”

Uncle Gently was flickering out yet again. He didn’t seem to even have the strength left to stay curled up; his twitching limbs splayed out across the floor as he struggled for breath. I gave him a long, contemptuous stare before finishing my explanation.

“After seeing this… I assume most of the kids will prefer the orphanage. It’s a chance for some peace and a future, anyway. Only a certain kind of person needs me, Goose, and I’ll take any who do. The ones who need to be able to strike back in order to find any peace—I’ll have opportunities for them. The chance to even the score, and hurt the people who built this system that’s grinding us all down. Or those who’ll only feel safe again with the biggest monster of all protecting them. And I do offer that. I make mistakes, I can be hurt, and I’ve lost people. But only through mistakes. No matter what happens or what is at stake, I will never abandon my people. If someone has my back, I have theirs. Period.”

I had to draw in a steadying breath and let it out slowly before I could continue, raising my eyes to address the room at large.

“If that’s you…if you want to be part of our revenge against this whole fucking mess of a world, from the gangsters to the goddesses and everything in between…or if you just can’t trust in these systems anymore and need to stay with the one lunatic who’s dumb enough to have your back no matter what happens or what it costs… Then you come with me. I have a place far enough from Gwyllthean to be… Well. Relatively safe, for now. It’s big enough to have room for everyone. Everybody gets their own bed and as much as they need to eat, none of this bullshit about rewards and punishments; I will make sure nobody goes hungry if I have the power to prevent it, and I have a lot of power. There’ll be work, but no more Rat work—no skulking or stealing or risking your necks. Chores around the place, yeah; everybody has to pitch in. But just helping to clean and mend things, nothing dangerous. Lessons in reading, arithmetic…whatever I can find someone to teach you. I want everybody to grow up with as much of an education as they can get. And when you’re grown enough—not before—for those who still want to: the chance to fight, and topple this whole fucking country. And then the next country.”

I raised both hands and lowered my hood, revealing my face. Not much reaction ensued, beyond a very minor stir. My features might be foreign, but that was nothing compared to the spectacle they’d already seen. Besides, apparently the fact that Lord Seiji was the Healer was an open secret by now.

“If that’s not you, then that’s completely fine. You can go and I won’t interfere with you at all. Everything I can offer, except the chance to fight back, the Convocation can offer better. I expect their discipline is harsher than mine will be, but frankly that’s not such a terrible thing. It’s a chance for a life in the middle ring and a career in the priesthood, which is a big deal for lowborn orphans. I would honestly recommend you take that deal and find a chance to thank Rhydion if you can arrange it, unless you’re one of those who feels the need to stay with me.”

A large part of me wanted to tell them all to just go to the orphanage. But…there was Aenit, expectant and fervent, and hers wasn’t the only expression like that. Children had no business in a Dark Crusade. I already had a few, though, and there would be others who needed what only I could offer them. If I sent those away, they’d just get killed trying to fight back against a system that could crush them without even noticing they were there. At least… If they came with me, at least I could make sure they had a place in a nice, safe fortress, and ensure they stayed out of the fighting until they were old enough. Maybe some would even grow out of wanting it. A few of the Alley cats had already declined to fight, and there was plenty of work for them helping support the place.

It was fucked up no matter how I looked at it, but it was the best I could do for them.

I pointed at the pile still sitting in the middle of the floor, mostly food but accented by coins, expensive fabric, and a few other odds and ends way too pricey for these environs.

“If you’re going to choose to leave, then you grab as much of the stash as you’re able to carry. This stuff belongs to you kids; it was your hard work that earned it all. Anything you don’t take will go with us, to help support whoever decides to join me. I suspect the orphanage may not let you keep much… Still. You can try to go it alone out there with whatever you’re able to grab, but I wouldn’t advise it. Lady Gray’s still out there and she’s lost her fucking mind. I strongly recommend the orphanage. Go to the south gate and ask the guards there to let you into the city.”

“Shellheads won’t let us inside the walls even in broad daylight,” an older girl scoffed. “No fuckin’ way they’ll open gates for Gutter Rats in the middle of the night!”

“That’s why I said the south gate,” I said, nodding. “The guards on duty there right now were recently privy to something that may change their minds. If you stay together and go to that gate and no other, ask them if they’d like to help Captain Norovena get on Rhydion’s good side.”

Several of the orphans frowned at me, while others exchanged doubtful looks.

“It may not work,” I admitted. “It’d be the smart move for them, but if they were ambitious and smart they probably wouldn’t be in the Kingsguard. If they give you shit instead of helping, just back away and find a place to hole up for a few hours. Come tomorrow, the adventurers will be out looking for Rats again. Find one of them—”

“Can’t,” Uncle Gently rasped, laboriously dragging himself up to his hands and knees. “You can’t take my precious little ones. They need me. Only their Uncle can—”

Immolate.

He dissolved into fire and screaming again, forcing me to raise my voice.

“I’m sure you already know that some of your number have already gone with the adventurers to the orphanage. Gilder, Benit, and Radon have already come with me and are safely at my place. If that makes a difference with regard to who you want to see again. If you’re going toward the city and the guards won’t let you in, I suggest hunkering down on the ramp within sight of the gatehouse. Lady Gray’s less likely to try any bullshit right under the eyes of the Kingsguard with the whole island hunting for her head. Now, those who are leaving, let’s not have a mob, yeah? Come one at a time—that’s it, form a line—and pick up whatever you want from the pile. Do not take all of any one thing, leave enough for everybody else. Get some coin, some food, and something to wear. And…leave the booze, okay? Sorry, but alcohol is not for children. It’ll stunt your growth and mess up your brain chemistry.”

Uncle Gently had gone through the whole cycle while I talked, down to flickering out again, and now produced the absolute last sound I expected from him: a laugh. Not much of a laugh, it was definitely the weak, hoarse chuckle of a man who’d had all the fight beaten out of him, but it was enough to make me turn toward him in surprise.

He didn’t try to get up again, but looked up at me with a truly maniacal grin—the rictus of a broken man who knew there was nothing in his future but more pain and then death, and thus was past fear serving him any purpose.

“You have no fucking clue,” he rasped, with a giggle that trailed off into coughing. “No idea how to raise children. You must be consistent. Consistency! Especially with punishment. They need clear rules, clear boundaries, clear expectations. Off to a bad start, Healer. You established a pattern, but broke it. A name, then a reason, and then the fire. How are they going to trust you if you can’t respect your own rules?”

He did finally push himself somewhat upright, bracing his hands against the floor to raise his torso and sneer up at me.

“That was cheating, that time. Where was the name and the reason, Healer? Where’s your consistency?”

I paced slowly across the room toward him. Barely a meter away, I stopped, and lowered myself carefully to one knee, bringing my head down until my face was just slightly above his.

“My name is Seiji,” I said quietly. “Fuck you. Immolate.”

At that range it singed my eyebrows a bit. Totally worth it.

Straightening, I turned back to the children, watching me with dancing fire reflected in their eyes.

“All right,” I said through the sound of Uncle Gently howling, backlit by the flames. “Like I told you, single file. Grab a good mix of things and don’t be greedy.”

It started slowly, but picked up as the children were satisfied that I was seriously going to let them walk out unharmed with whatever they could carry. After the first made it out with a pocketful of coins, an armful of wyddh, and a silk bedsheet draped around his shoulders like a cloak, the rest grew much more confident.

Most of them went back into the Nest for a moment; I knew they didn’t own much, but it stood to reason a lot of the kids would have their own little treasures that held sentimental value to them, if nothing else. Probably encouraged to comply by my displays of terrible power and looming black-cloaked followers, none of them gave us any trouble with the single-file system, and only a few gentle verbal corrections were necessary to prevent any from trying to grab all of the money or a whole jar of candied nuts the size of their own torso. Or in one case, a bottle of wine. Many selected carefully from the pile while watching me and Nazralind (who had taken over a guiding role in the distribution) for approval of their selections. We left them alone to do as they pleased unless they seemed about to try to make off with the entire supply of something.

In the end, about two thirds of them decided they agreed with my own assessment that I was bad news. I didn’t see where they went once they were out of the Nest; I really hoped they continued following my advice, stayed together, and made for the south gate. Ultimately, though, I felt I’d done more than enough to them by sliming them into their orphanage and then torturing their caregiver right in front of them. If they didn’t want my protection after that, well, that just seemed like good sense. I had no more right to impose on them.

We were left with twelve Gutter Rats, including Aenit. They seemed to be in the middle of the age range, between about seven and eleven, and to the last shared Aenit’s (and Benit and Radon’s, for that matter) intense stare and quiet demeanor.

Man, I really hoped I could do more for them than offer a warm place to sleep and the Dark Lord’s protection. Surely some of the huge number of women I’d gathered at North Watch must be good with kids, right? A few were actually mothers themselves. I would only be able to consider this venture a success if, eventually, these children stopped staring at me like combat veterans.

Kids should laugh, and cause trouble, and get underfoot like Gilder and the others. If there was any mercy in this rotten world at all, they’d remember how.

Once those who chose to leave had left, I had the rest of the children and noblewomen gather up the rest of Uncle Gently’s hoard and retreat to the house we’d boarded up, to wait for me to finish the next part. This time, at last, Aster was convinced to accompany them. She wasn’t happy about leaving my side so soon after her angry declaration that she wouldn’t again, but matters become different once there were children to protect. They needed her holding that door in case Lady Gray decided to make her presence known.

And I wanted them in that house and not this one. Close enough for the screaming to be audible, which was the one glaring flaw in my plan. I’d have much preferred they not be able to hear the screaming I was about to cause. But Gray was still out there, and I’d left the ladies with orders to howl like banshees if she turned up; at the first sound, I would drop what I was doing here and run to their aid.

Once they were gone, it was finally time to use the hammer and spikes.

Goose and Lamm stayed behind with me, which was necessary as I needed their assistance. Uncle Gently wasn’t so broken that he didn’t struggle once he realized what I intended; anyone would have. But he was one out-of-shape middle-aged con man, and we were two thugs and a sorcerer. In the end, the only real difficulty he gave us was by being heavy.

Goose held him up against the exterior of the Nest by a grip on his neck, next to its front door, stoically ignoring his attempts to kick her. Lamm grabbed and wrestled his arms into place, one at a time as I worked, the gangster easily more than a match for Gently’s attempts to pull away. Both my accomplices executed their role in this new war crime with the icy expressions of people embracing a justifiable evil.

And I used the tools.

I let the rage take me over, finally. Unleashed the beast and let its seething fury pound through my veins as I pounded in the spikes. Letting go of performance mode, letting my face twist into an animal snarl of hatred even as it was splattered with blood. I needed that rage, needed it to course through me, because a mentally normal person in a normal state of mind is not capable of hammering spikes into screaming, struggling human flesh.

Lost in a fugue of righteous hatred, I suspect I could have done a lot worse, but I was just here to perform this last task and leave. We had no time to get creative with this monster’s execution, and I had not the inclination.

The human forearm very conveniently contains two bones which you can hammer a large nail right between to affix it in place. I used two spikes for each. Historically, I believe one per arm was the norm, but he was heavy and I wanted to be thorough.

“You have no idea what you’ve done,” Gently rasped at me as Goose and Lamm finally released him to hang from the front of his house by his own nailed arms. He found the strength to lift his head and glare at me with an insane hatred that mirrored my own, his legs pressing desperately against the wall behind him to lift his body up so he could breathe enough to talk. “No clue what you’ve unleashed, Dark Lord. She was always so controlled. Always a plan, every action had a purpose. She has never been like this, killing my Rats just to make a point. But you broke her. Do you even know what the Dark Crusade is? It is the end of EVERYTHING. Nations will burn, landbridges will fall, islands will be scoured clean of life, cities will be inhabited by only the dead. You think you’re going to save these people? Pfaah!”

He spat blood at me. I was honestly impressed he could still make a speech in his condition.

“You don’t save shit, Seiji. You’re nothing but destruction. There’s no future for anyone on Ephemera as long as you’re alive. Lady Gray looked into the void you represent, and this is what you turned her into. This was one gangster in one small town. You think this was bad?” He grinned maniacally, his teeth running red with blood. “Wait till you see what a Highlord does when he looks into the same void and breaks like she did. Or a King. Or an Emperor. It’ll all burn. Starting with everyone you’ve tried to help. Remember that as you watch them die—your whores, my children, everyone. This. Is. Your. Fault.”

“You don’t have to listen to this horseshit, Lord Seiji,” Lamm stated. “Lemme break his windpipe.”

“He can talk,” I said quietly. “That’s all he has left. And I want to send him to hell with the knowledge that his last act of defiance was a useless waste of breath that he only got to indulge in because I allowed it.”

I could have silenced him, of course, but I was arrested by what he said. Unable to tear my attention away from the prospect he foretold… Terribly afraid that he was right. But I’d have nailed myself to the wall before letting him know that.

The beast reared up and roared, and I willingly embraced the searing rage that blotted out everything but the act of violence right in front of me as I drew back the hammer and, with two methodical strokes, smashed his kneecaps.

Uncle Gently’s scream was cut off as he slumped down the wall, unable to support himself any longer. The position was cutting off his air. That was how victims of crucifixion died: suffocation. The Romans would only break the victim’s legs as a last cold mercy, so they went in minutes instead of the days it took them to lose the ability to push themselves up and keep breathing. This man didn’t deserve even that paltry mercy, but I had gorged my fill of barbaric cruelty and had no more appetite for it. Already I was growing sick with what I’d just done.

It was such a strange feeling, to hate it so much, and yet not regret it.

The last tool was the paintbrush. Uncle Gently was providing plenty of crimson material with which to work. I dipped the brush in the blood pooling beneath him, and carefully scrawled my last warning in Fflyr letters across the front of the building alongside him.

CHILDKILLER

And that…was enough. I threw the brush down next to the discarded hammer and remaining nails, already in a puddle of the pouring blood.

“Somebody could still get him down from there,” Goose pointed out as I turned to go.

After that? Without the kind of healing only I could provide, he’d never again use his hands, or walk.

“Then he can be their problem,” I said. “Come on. Let’s pick up the kids and go home.”

I left behind a single, summoned slime below the dying orphan master, slowly turning crimson as it feasted on blood.