The streets of Ulthar are still busy and lined with market stalls. The people seem slightly subdued though, and view Tasha with a bit of suspicion. There are fewer cats about as well. She catches them looking out from holes in the walls or other hiding places though. The central temple tower where she met the angel also seems shadowed.
Tasha has always found this city to be strange. Perhaps, because it is the Dreamlands -- which as she knows is not a metaphor, but quite literal -- and therefore the stuff of night time fancy, this city and indeed all the Dreamlands carry a distant, ethereal quality, even as she feels the street beneath her hooves and the stares of suspicious inhabitants. She supposes she must seem like a partisan, demonic as she appears to people.
With nothing else but to search and gather information, she tries to locate someone who looks at least a little bit willing to speak with her.
There a lot of elderly looking men on the steps leading up to the temple. Some of them are obviously blind as well, so wouldn't react to Tasha's appearance. They each have a cat as well, usually in their lap, but sometimes draped across bony shoulders.
Tasha heads that way then, she knows from experience the elderly like to talk. "Hello sirs," she offers a slight bow at the greeting, "The temple seems to stand silent? Might I ask you a few questions?"
"You may ask," the one closest and with the longest beard says. "And we may answer."
"As it is," Tasha agrees, nodding. "I was wondering if you might tell me how goes the war. I feel a shadow about the temple, different from when I last stood here, and the city is suspicious. I am also looking for a bird... firey." She lifts a hand, letting it become limed in a quiet, fluid flame.
"The war will soon arrive," the elder says. "The army of the Harlot approaches, and the ophanim has left the temple. The spell that held it failed, as I imagine all such shackles have failed in Nyarlathotep's absence. If this bird of fire you see was also caged, then it too must be free."
"I see." Tasha glances back towards the gate she entered. Not long, then, until the war reaches this place, too. "What can you tell me about the Harlot?"
"She is the Witch of Secrets," the man says. "She sees into your heart, and makes note of everything you hide, even from yourself. Your truth, and your lies. If you seek knowledge, she will have it.. but getting it from her is never free."
"I think I may have met this person," Tasha admits, rubbing her chin. She doesn't particularly want to fly headlong in to an army, or the next thing to be bound in this realm might be her, to say nothing of what may come from deals for information. "How long until she reaches the city, and is there anywhere that still stands strong against her? Places of refuge, opponents and challengers?"
"She will be here by nightfall," the man says. "This we foresee. But many resist her, hoping to claim the vacant throne. The Dreamlands are vast. She has made no progress against the ghouls or the moon creatures, and the cats may cause her trouble, but they have been silent on the matter. Every city has it's stake in the war."
"So a power... but not the power. Yet. Or never." Tasha eyes the gate again, then she looks to the cats. "I don't suppose you all have something to say about all of this?"
"Here in the West, we have grown complacent," the man says. "Perhaps Dylath-Leen or Hlanith will oppose her, or she will turn South. At some point she must turn North to conquer Kadath and the throne."
"We have no army to challenge her," another of the elders says. "We had our captive angel after all."
"The Throne... " Tasha considers the throne, the Throne. Powers will gather there, great and mighty powers, and so it is as interesting as it is dangerous, and surely guarded. Even remnant armies and guardians spirits may linger there, long after their patrons have departed. "And two cities. Those are cities, yet? As for your angel... I'm sorry. I have no wish to see this city destroyed. I like cats."
"We will not be destroyed, for that is not the way of conquest," the first elder says. "We will no longer be free, bound by the contracts of the Harlot. Perhaps we will enter her boxes, and know the secrets of all creation. Or be tormented by the truths we hide from ourselves."
"Those are terrible indeed," the red woman agrees. She gazes once again at the gate, knowing there is an army, a whole army, bearing down upon her and this place. "I doubt I have the power to stand before an army, to be sure. I am not entirely here, not like before." And so she looks back. "I'm sorry I can't be of any help."
"You are a Dreamer then?" the man asks.
"Something like, but different. I hold the Key. I know the Dragon and the Darkness With A Thousand Faces. I know where they went.I once stood before the angel, however long ago that is, here," Tasha answers, inclining her head.
"Once we would have prayed for salvation here at the Temple of the Elder Gods," the old man says. "Perhaps to summon Ultharahotep, the patron god of the city. But there is no time now, and the stars are not right. If you are indeed aligned with the Queen of Demise, best not to let others know."
"That seems to be the way of it, though what she thinks of me now, I know not. The same can be said for her opponent, though what he thinks is always the same, in however many guises, under a thousand masks." Tasha looks around to the city, the first city she ever stepped foot in, here in the Dreamlands. "I must go. I can do nothing here, even with my fire and my weapons, I am less here, Dreaming, and I did not come to fight." She looks to the lot, then inclines her head. "Good luck in what comes. I hope it, at least, is interesting."
"I am disheartened that you do not wish to say hello," the gravelly voice of the Harlot says to Tasha, as the witch now stands among them. "I even used one of the secret ways to meet you here. So few Dreamers since the rule of Nyarlothotep fell."
Tasha takes in a careful, steady breath, and turns to face the Harlot with a neutral expression she doesn't have to work to maintain. "There are so many powers about these days, fighting over this and that, I can't very well meet with them all. I'm a busy woman." She has faced many gods, dragons, demons, death itself, and more. The red woman isn't about to stumble now.
The ghoulish woman bends down to meet Tasha eye to eye. "I know what you seek," she says. "And where to find it."
"How nice for you," Tasha replies, who reaches up to try and pat the witch's cheek. "But as a wolf, I prefer to do my own hunting, and I have enough collars. But thank you for visiting. I was just discussing the secret of whether or not you will succeed in your war." She has enough secrets and enough reasons to distract the witch from the cats, so she decides to bring the attention on to her.
"You are welcome to hunt, as is your nature," the Harlot says, standing back up. Her cheek was very cold.
"As it is." Tasha says with a firm nod. She also straightens. "Let's be direct: You know what I want, or so you claim, and I am willing to believe that is true. You also want some secret, favor, or other entrapment. You are not the first, and surely not the last. And you are coming, if you are not already here. Is that about the right of things?" She cocks her head.
The witch smiles so wide it seems like her head will split from it. "For the most part, yet," the Harlot says. "What is missing is that I also possess a feather from the entity you seek, which can act as a compass."
"Sufficiently indicative of knowledge, certainly. Well, I fear you'll hold a grudge if I don't at least listen, but prepare yourself for disappointment. And, you are not so successful in your war as to threaten and cajole without caution; if you are here with effort and interest then I have something you want -- and you also know I bite." And so she spreads her hands in a 'let's hear it' manner, she even perks her ears forward.
"So careful with your words," the Harlot says. And then produces a feather from her voluminous hair. It's red with tinges of gold, and even has a very white aura. It's brimming with 'life' flame energy.
"Words are a power, too." Tasha leans forward to examine the feather with interest; if she makes a deal or not, she's learned a great deal just by examining the feather. It's aura, it's sheen and glow, so different from her own, and yet still of the flame. Of life. She studies it until she feels she's memorized it's feel. "Yes, interesting. I am willing to believe it is genuine, it seems beneath you to try and trick me with fakes and the like. Truth is a better weapon, anyway. Sharper, and stronger, too. So. Here are the goods, so what is the sell?"
"That depends on what you are willing to pay," the Harlot says. "You can Kainudy have something in common, a hidden truth that would anger everyone you meet here in the Dreamlands. But I will not wager for that, just this feather. Perhaps a memory? Or flesh?"
"These sound like the usual fodder of demon gods, promises that inevitably come around to be worth far more than they mean. Nyarlathotep offered much the same, and look where that has gotten us." Tasha considers the feather. She already has something, after all. And she suspect the witch knows she does, or else she'd not be leading an army and reaching for the throne, but it is something. She also feels her hackles twitch. Something about the witch makes her want to ruin her. Maybe it's the power play, or knowing what she knows; maybe it's interrupting her conversation and making cats sad. "You'll have to be more specific."
At the same time Tasha starts scrolling through Galatea's data base of weapons-to-be, trying to find something she might use at such close quarters, and with the greatest of firepower. Something that won't level the city, or at least only a small part of it. Preferably something firey, so she's more likely to survive it.
There are plasma casters, which can be quite destructive. "For the feather.. your wings," the witch offers. "You don't even need them anymore, after all."
"You want... my wings?" Tasha looks back at them, then gives the witch a tilted head look somewhere between disgust and uncertainty. "Why do you even need them? Or want, I should add? Want them?"
With some speed Tasha begins to read the notes on the plasma casters, a tool which feels more attractive the longer she interacts with the Harlot.
"Because they've always been a part of your identity," the Harlot claims. "The one thing that made you better than those on the ground, no matter how much nicer their lives seemed. Something they couldn't buy."
"Ahh," goes Tasha, who sees the value now. "I was about to ask if your request was literal or figurative, as it happens, it's both. You want the physical item, but what's more you want to take me down a peg, and you want what comes after, and then perhaps my suffering and my search for a replacement, my begging." She cocks her head to the side again. "Does it annoy you? Can you not buy it? Or, is it the suffering you want, like the demons, the long game? Something more at the end, when you think I'll come crawling back?"
After a lot of speed reading and jumping through information, Tasha selects a plasma caster and readies it. She readies a lot of things, including herself. But not yet. Not just yet.
"You are leverage, should Kainudy return," the Harlot says, not trying to hide anything. "Having some influence over you is to my advantage, since I couldn't sway Kainudy herself. Not having the Queen of Demise at my side has made things more difficult, and taking their battle beyond the Dreamlands themselves was not what I expected."
"Kainudy would be quite disappointed in me if I failed where she resisted. Teachers expect better of their students," Tasha replies, head shaking. "If you give me the feather I will not interfere with your plans, for I do not need to. There are others, and he may return when his game is over. You might be better served by asking me to stop you than not."
"I can only build my strength in the West, before proceeding to the more dangerous areas," the Harlot explains. "My soldiers love me, and so too will the people of Ulthar. Many will join me. But Kadath is my ultimate goal. Others are already fighting for it, and I am happy to let them exhaust their resources before I arrive. Nyarlathotep's followers will put up a good defense."
She then tucks the feather away, back into her hair.
"They will put up everything, I'm sure, in the end. I wonder what game he'll play this time, though I say, it is always the same game." Tasha rubs her chin, then shakes her head again. "I wonder... Are you listening, other beings? Here and now, what is your offer for the effort?" And so she looks up to the sky. If the Harlot is here, who, else, is watching? And wanting.
"The Elder Gods have so far kept out of the fight," the Harlot notes. "That is unlikely to last though."
"It could end right now, in fact." Tasha lowers her head and smiles her own wide smile, all teeth and entertainment. "I do want that feather."
The witch matches Tasha's smile. "Remember that Kainudy did not fight me, even when her power was leaking out like water through a sieve," she cautions.
"Perhaps you can offer something else then: a memory, one you no longer wish to have?" the Harlot asks.
"I do so want to, though. Well, you may well be right, and since none of these others see fit to chip in on the matter, I'll leave it be. I'm just here to hunt and to see what's become of this place, not try for the Throne. As I said, I've enough collars, I don't need one on my head." She then heaves a sigh. "Memories I don't want are often the ones I need the most, and I already gave away the worst of it. I've faced enough of myselves to have myself in my thoughts. I'm not sure if there's anything left I'd want to be rid of. No, I think I'd better remain complete. And you're not wrong about the wings, but I see the greater loss, and the reminder that would remain that I took another easy route and collared myself again."
"You have a life in there that you don't need, because it's made flesh and blood," the Witch says. "You could give me Sasha. Or that black dagger in your mind, the pressure, the chewing of your soul. That I could use."
"Now you're just trying to upset me," Tasha says, folding her arms, ears up, and... tail wagging? "And if I give you Sasha the basis for him will be gone, or you'll make your own, and then he'll hate me. And I'm familiar with my self hate enough already. Why not ask my family, my friendships? You know... " Here she leans in a little. "If you were a bit less intense and malicious, you might even make friends too. Perhaps, you'll even come to know yourself." She wags even more, as if this were some great game of tug of war, with herself as the rope.
"Oh, I have a million friends, a thousand lovers, and a hundred daughters," the Harlot claims. "But if you are unwilling to trade even your pain, then I suppose the feather remains with me. Perhaps your hunt will be successful without it. Or perhaps you may grow desperate, and then be more willing to trade."
"What fun is a hunt without a little starvation?" Tasha smiles, and winks. "I've enjoyed this exchange. You've reminded me I'm not the person I used to be. You won't interfere with me, or else risk provoking Kainudy, perhaps also Nyarlathotep. We don't get on well, but we're not exactly in conflict, either. And there are others I might side with. Still, I'm curious who will win."
"I also see who is watching behind your eyes," the Harlot says. "I wonder what she will bargain for. She's the kind that I do best with, a lost soul."
"Ah. That would be a problem. You could offer her cures and freedoms, what she wants most. But that's never really in the hands of beings like you, is it? Only control, and twisted promises." Tasha speaks to the Harlot, but it's Galatea she's really talking to. She could see Galatea asking for something, she could see her seizing control and asking without warning. And knowing this, her warning, though she can't stop it if it comes. "But that's for her to decide."
"With her, I might be unstoppable," the Harlot muses. "You could join me as well, Tasha. March beside me, and channel the power from your patron. That would be worth the feather, when next I battle."
"No mass murder," Galatea says firmly in Tasha's mind.
"I have no stake in this place, though I find little comfort in--" Tasha smiles suddenly, pausing her words. She'd been worried for a moment, yet Galatea stands firm, at least on this. She wasn't wrong to link with her as a safeguard. "Well. My 'patron' as you put it isn't up for a slaughter. Let me then offer for you: you may require a duel. A single battle. Fewer deaths; only one. And you stand to gain far more than an open battle would allow. Perhaps that would be to your mutual agreement? I'll expect a little extra for the negotiation fee, of course."
"Ha!" the green woman barks, or is it meant to be laughter. "I will consider it, should the moment arise. Few would duel, unless they were clearly outmatched. But until then.. I have Ulthar to claim."
"Few would duel you. Many have dueled me. If they think I am their opponent, they might like to crush me. Alone, maybe I can win. But I am not alone. And few will know that." Tasha then nods, stepping aside to look back at the city. "I'll state my negotiation fee now, then. Be kind to the City of Cats. Leave the cats their freedom, because a cat without freedom is a sad thing indeed, just like a wolf, and lesser for it."
"I seek the lost souls, which are rarely cats," the witch claims. But she's been honest about everything so far.
"I see. Well, my offer stands. I've done what I can do here, and we both seek something we're not going to get standing in the street like we're pitching at a bazaar." Tasha looks around, takes in a deep breath, and exhales. She may not return here for some time and as is so often the case the city may be different when she returns. She's sure the residents were listening to her exchange, for what good it might do them, and she tried to angle for what insight she could leak to them, little as it was. It's time for her to go. "I'll avoid your line on the way out, out of respect for our peaceful negotiations."
"I will take my leave, and return to my army now," the Harlot says. She turns to the elder, and says, "Atal, your negligence has caused some of this. We will talk again when my army arrives at the gate."
The elderly priest just grunts.
Tasha glances to the priest, but says nothing. She suspects she'd just make things worse. She is no mighty angel to save the city, wings or no. Still, she knows another who could play the role convincingly. "Are you alright with this? I don't think I can beat her, she gives me a bad sense, and anyone who aims for the throne and makes it so far is beyond me alone."
"I haven't the right to interfere," Galatea replies. "Where would it end? Would I need to sit on the throne to maintain peace? I am not a leader. I cannot make those kinds of decisions."
"And neither am I. I'm a beacon, but my leadership is that, a light to follow, not orders and directions and continuance. And there is no army here to lead, no great weapon to call upon, the angel is lost, and I can't fight her alone." Tasha gives the elder an apologetic, faint smile, in her silence.
"You should leave while you can," Atal says. "The Enchanted Forest is safe, if you avoid the Zoogs. Otherwise you should keep heading West to the coast. The trading ports will give you the best chance of learning about your quarry."
"Then that is what I will do. Good luck to you." She bows to the old men, then begins to lift off the ground as her wings spread. In short order she's accelerating, and then she's a dot streaking across the sky.
Tasha expends some energy to ensure she's far enough clear of the city to feel comfortable resuming normal flight. "What a mess."
"There will be no battle, only a harvesting of those who are in pain and will take the Harlot's mercy," Galatea replies. "Her army is meant to fight things more monstrous that mere humans."
"Well, that's something, then. There's still so much I don't know about this place. Every place. The traveler travels on." And so she wings her way towards the forest, soaring under the rainbow sky.