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Book 2: Chapter 21: Sea Change

He stumbled across the room clad in only old trousers. When he cracked open the door, it was to see Kenzie glaring at him from the other side.

"Do you know what time it is?" she demanded.

He squinted at her. "I was about to ask you the same."

His groggy mind and body insisted he’d only been asleep for moments, but afternoon light streamed in the hallway behind her. He’d been down for hours.

With a frustrated sound, Kenzie pushed open the door and made to walk right in. She paused mid-step and stared at him, horrified.

"You look like a scourgeling chewed you up and spit you out."

He looked down at himself. Specifically, his chest which had scabs and hours-old streaks of blood thanks to the scourge-bat. His right forearm had its fair share of scratches, too. The wounds were red around the edges and sore, but he'd had worse as a child.

"That's not too far from the truth," he said, amused.

She gripped his arm -- his good arm, thankfully -- and stared at him, eyes wide. "Don't tell me you were mixed up in the scholar's guild mess."

"Okay," Arthur said.

"Okay, what?"

"Okay, I won't tell you."

Her mouth dropped open and he grinned, pleased at himself.

That faded the next second when Kenzie stepped into his small room, grabbed a pillow from the bed and whapped him hard. "You! Blasted! Idiot!" She punctuated each word with a pillowy smack. He raised his hands to fend her off but then she tossed the pillow away with a frustrated growl. "Of course

, you were involved. And you didn't even bother to clean up scourge-wounds! What’s wrong with you?"

"Hey, I'm carded! I'm not an idiot."

The look she gave said she disagreed. "Rumor said those were Rare-tier scourgelings!"

Now it was his turn to give her a look. She should know he didn't have to worry about Rare powers when he had Legendary in his heart deck.

"... Right," she admitted. "Well, you should have at least put a bandage over them."

"What's that going to do what a scab couldn't?" he asked, bewildered. Even the lowliest Common card protected against infection and other sicknesses.

Kenzie gave another frustrated growl. "Scars, for one thing. And if you're going to play the fancy uptight noble, you can't be seen as scarred up like a commoner. Now, tell me you have some suitable outfits..."

She all but shoved him aside to head straight for his small closet.

"By all means, come on in," he muttered, rolling his eyes but shut the door to give them privacy.

Kenzie was head deep inside the closest, pawing over the three outfits he'd managed to hang up. "Are all of your best shirts made for work?"

"Not all of them. There's... ah." He picked up the shirt he wore last night and shook it out. The front and sleeve were slashed and spotted with blood. His Tidying skill told him it was a lost cause. His common sense agreed. "Umm..."

"Fine. We’re going shopping. Put on something decent. I’ll wait.” Kenzie turned her back to him with a false air of giving him privacy.

He was too tired for this. “Look, as you can imagine, I’ve had a long night—”

“Word’s come down from the leader’s up high. They’ll be announcing the Legendary egg tonight.”

“I know that,” Arthur said, annoyed. “But I have things to do—”

“And,” Kenzie continued, “All the silvers who managed to snag a recruit were given a stipend.”

That stopped Arthur cold. “Stipend?”

Kenzie risked a glance over her shoulder. She was grinning. “A generous stipend. This is going to draw the best of the best from the kingdom, and the people in charge want to put their best foot forward.”

While she spoke, Arthur shoved his feet into his boots and grabbed the first shirt he could reach. “What are we waiting for?”

In the scant hours Arthur had slept, the entire hive city had changed. Word from Wolf Moon hive had gone out that the new Rare had linked with a rider. It was time to celebrate.

Vendors took up the call and lined the streets with their wares, non-entertainment businesses and children's classes were let out. Dance squares were set up at every corner street. Some quick acting folks had even strung banners across the road depicting pink dragons, in celebration for Joyberry. A few images were even card-charmed to walk across the banner's fabric. Arthur and Kenzie passed musicians tuning up their instruments in preparation for a busy night.

It looked like a festival, but it didn't feel much like a festival.

Conversations were kept to a low murmur, and despite the fact all classes were supposed to be let out for celebrations, there wasn't a child to be seen. Townsfolk risked constant glances up to the sky as if worried something would sweep down to snatch them.

Word of the scourgelings with mind-mage had made the rounds. People were worried.

"I'd like to walk by the scholar's guild," Arthur said.

Kenzie shook her head. New lines etched between her eyebrows -- her card powers swung toward emotional empathy, so she had to be hyper aware of the tense atmosphere.

"There's no point. Whitaker ordered it slagged this morning."

Arthur stopped. "What does that mean?"

Again, she shrugged. "Slagged. You know… Hotter than burning, but less than turning everything into pure lava. It was a scourge infection. You can't let that grow-- Hey, where're you going?"

Arthur turned and sprinted down the street.

He had worked for Barlow for years and knew the man wouldn't leave a job until the kitchen was as clean as when he'd found it. They had barricaded themselves in to hide from mind powers.

Had they been caught inside?

Kenzie called after him, but Arthur ignored her, running full pelt down the city. He was on the wrong side of two canals, and it would take ages to get to Barlow's restaurant with the city in festival mode...

But the streets weren't as choked they should be, on account of nerves. And the strength in Arthur's legs didn't flag. In fact, he ran surefooted down alleyways slick with moss that grew in the shadows, leapt over small barrels which obstructed his way, and once turned neatly to avoid spooking an oncoming cart horse.

He gained two levels in Running and arrived at the Salt and Spoon, Barlow's restaurant, faster than he believed possible.

The restaurant was shut up tight. All lanterns dimmed.

Arthur pounded a fist on the door then turned down the next alleyway to the rear kitchen entrance. There should be a small crew in the back preparing dinner service.

That door was locked as well.

It looked as if no one had visited at all.

But Barlow spent all his waking hours here...

What had he done? He should have insisted Barlow and the other workers escape along with him. Instead, he'd been so concerned about keeping his identity secret he left them behind. If he'd given it a moment's thought, he would have considered what the hive's reaction would be to a scourge-infection in the middle of the city...

"Arthur?"

Whipping around, Arthur made an inarticulate noise as he spotted the man standing right behind him, holding a crate full of market-fresh vegetables.

Relief crashed over him with an intensity that was almost painful. The back end of the wave came with a heaping sense of guilt.

"You're alive," he said dumbly. "Why isn't the restaurant open? Why-- I thought..." His throat tightened had he had to stop talking for fear of shaming himself with tears.

The corners of Barlow’s lips tightened. He reached forward, patting a heavy hand on Arthur’s shoulder. “I gave the lads a day off. They deserve it after last night. Dragon riders got us out – one of leader Whitaker’s riders, in fact. I should be honored.”

Arthur heard heavy sarcasm in the last words, but didn’t understand why. He shook his head. “I should have guessed they wouldn’t want any scourge infection to spread. I knew how bad it was. I should have warned you.”

“Arthur, you aren’t a dragon rider. That’s not your job. Though…” Barlow smiled. “I hear it might be soon. You tried for that Rare, didn’t you? Well, maybe you’ll have better luck next time.” He patted his shoulder again in condolence.

His guilt wouldn’t go away that easily. The scholar’s were one thing: They had knowingly neglected cards long enough for them to go bad and then sloppily contained the rot. But Barlow, the kitchen crew, and likely many of the workers had been caught up in it without fault of their own. What happened had been unanticipated but wouldn’t have happened at all if Arthur wasn’t there.

Barlow glanced around as if to make sure no one was listening. Then he took a step forward and spoke in a low voice. “Dragon riders got us out, but it wasn’t out of the kindness of their own hearts.”

“What do you mean?”

“They swept the place for survivors, and for… unclaimed cards.”

From the bodies, Barlow meant.

Arthur shook his head. “Scourgelings wouldn’t have left any behind, right?”

“That, I can’t say.” Barlow shrugged. “But I thought you should know, before you go beating yourself up. Even our heroes aren’t above harvesting from corpses. I know you’re well grown, Arthur, but you watch yourself in the hive. And if you find any interesting cards… you best keep them to yourself.”

Arthur found Kenzie, who had been searching the streets for him, a few minutes later.

“Where were you?” she asked, annoyed. “What got you so panicked?”

“Had to check on a friend,” he said, gruffly. “Kenzie, does that stipend only cover fancy clothes?”

“Covers a fancy room on a higher level, too,” Kenzie said. “I was going to surprise you with it before you ran off.” She eyed him. “Why?”

Arthur took a breath. “You how competitive Rare recruits can be. Legendary is going to be ten times worse. I need a way to defend myself. I need a combat card.”