It was clear that there had never been more than two people at a time having dinner in Mr. Bright's living space. The lack of a third chair was somewhat solved by having Mr. Bright sit on a stack of books covered with a towel (nobody considered using the privy chair and just covering up the hole). It also seems that Mr. Bright doesn't eat any better than Willow did while she was locked in her cell: it isn't even really porridge or oatmeal so much as.. warm soggy oats.
"How difficult do you think it will be to get our men to go along with hiding our guest?" Mr. Bright asks Sackcloth.
"I don't think our boys will be a problem - they aren't under the Doc's spell or curse or whatever," Mr. Sackcloth notes. "It's the raiders and their ground crew that could be an issue. But I don't recall them seeking out the Doc on previous visits. They pick up the new 'recruits' and that's the end of it. He's never looked in on our other guests before, other than to ask how many there are. Which is always one more than the last time, of course. He either forgets or really doesn't care."
"Or you could hand me over to him," Willow notes a bit dryly, "In trade for your own freedom. Many desperate people would, after all."
"I'm not certain our 'freedom' is negotiable," Mr. Sackcloth notes. "Not for those he doesn't have some sort of leverage over. The ones who aren't considered expendable also don't have people that'd notice they've been missing for.. I don't remember how long it's been.."
"Just throwing that idea out there," Willow notes and shrugs a little. "I'd rather not spend my remaining, well, very long years a prisoner. If it's just one, why not just kill the man and escape anyway? Does he come under heavy guard?"
"Not that we've seen," Mr. Bright says. "It's more that the raiders will protect him. I haven't figured out exactly why, given what he can do to them, but I suspect it's a concept known as a 'dead man switch' - if he dies while close enough, there's something that will suck out the life energy 'loaned' to the raiders to revive himself. Or just kill them all."
"We assume he arrives on a ship though," Mr. Sackcloth says. "The raiders fly out, then fly back with whatever supplies and replacements are coming, then fly him back after receives Mr. Bright's report."
"Well, then that would solve all the problems in one shot," Willow points out. "You wipe out the raiders, and the doctor, and have your freedom. But, I take it, they never leave his side?"
"Actually he comes twice per raid interval," Mr. Bright notes. "The first trip is just to get my report and see how many casualties there were, get a tally of resources and so on - then he comes again with the needed supplies and replacements. And we're just assuming his death will trigger something that keeps the raiders in line. If he dies and that doesn't happen, the raiders could turn on us. Without knowing where the airship is, we'd be just as stranded."
"None of us know how to fly a Rakhtor, is the main issue," Sackcloth adds.
"You can walk," Willow points out dryly, "There is no such thing as a bottomless pit, so there is a way out on hoof." She rubs her forehead in mild frustration. "So, what do you recommend, then?" she asks.
"I don't expect the Doctor to be staying long on this visit," Mr. Bright says, swirling his spoon around aimlessly. "He'll be here to pick up the report and then leave. We could try to get one of the raiders to tell us about his ship, and where we are, but we don't have anything to bribe with really. Do you think Mr. Stitch could be convinced? He's usually the one that ferries the Doctor. We need him to keep the rest quiet about you."
"Or we could force the Doctor to stay by sending a crew out to seize his airship," Mr. Sackcloth says. "One thing we are well stocked on is sleeping potion."
"If I agree to be his slave, he might agree," Willow remarks with all the undertones of someone suffering from terminal flatulence. "But I'm not sure that fate would be any better."
"Is that his attitude towards you?" Mr. Bright asks, actually seeming shocked.
"I have no idea other than he enjoyed mistreating me," Willow notes.
"But he didn't hurt you?" Mr. Bright asks, a bit more.. sternly? It's hard to tell if he's being angered or still trying to remember what being angry is supposed to feel like.
"He has threatened to, but that is all," Willow asks and gives Mr. Bright an odd look. "You are acting odd."
"People tell me that I always act oddly," Mr. Bright notes. "I'm having some.. emotional confusion.."
"Well, before you start putting that brain of yours towards revenge because you've remembered what chivalry is, we still need to talk to the man and figure out if he's on board with keeping Willow a secret or not. Because if he is then we might be able to get something else out of him," Sackcloth points out.
"How so?" Willow has to ask. "Do you recall your days as a shadow-slayer?"
"I don't think I was ever a warrior," Mr. Bright says. "If I were thinking of doing something to Mr. Stitch, it would be through a trap made to look like an accident."
"Wait, you mean you don't already have plans for dealing with the raiders?" Mr. Sackcloth asks, looking actually surprised.
"I do not spend my free time thinking up ways to kill my.. fellow conscripts," Mr. Bright says. "It is not their fault that we are in this situation."
"Well, aside from kidnapping the Ambassador here," the Rhian grumbles.
"Mr. Stitch is not one to plan ahead," Mr. Bright notes. "I'm the one that's supposed to do the planning for him."
"Which, ironically, is your fault," Willow notes to Mr. Bright. "Because I was there, they were shocked to see two of us, and thus had to take me."
"It was a poor decision on his part," the other unicorn says. "But will he be willing to make up for it?"
"Or he knew exactly what he was doing," Sackcloth muses, and rubs his chin.
"I don't think he cares if it was a good or bad decision," Willow points out. She then has to look at the rhian and ask, "What do you mean by that?"
"Because it's the one thing that might get Mr. Bright here to come up with an escape plan," Sackcloth claims. "Even Stitch isn't going to upset the applecart when he's one of the apples unless he has something to gain."
"I don't think he's that bright," Willow comments. "But, the offer does stand, if it'll keep him quiet I'll be his ... pony." She makes a face.
"I'm sure we can up with something less drastic," Sackcloth says. "Half of his men don't care about women anyway, so we need to know if he can keep them in line. Or.. really, is there any benefit for one of them to tell the Doctor? Those pirate sorts take betrayal pretty seriously when they've all got bounties on them."
"We'll need to talk to him," Mr. Bright concedes, and looks to Willow. "Are you comfortable with him coming here?"
"Not particularly," Willow admits, "But I do not see I have a choice."
Sackcloth collects the bowls, and says, "I'll go get him. It'll be too tight for all of us, so I'll be outside the door with.. a pot. Or something."
"If he tries to hurt you, turn his head backwards," Willow suggests. "His neck is a mess..."
"I know the weak spots, given how many times I've had to patch them up," Sackcloth says and gives Willow a wink. Then he's out the door.
"Should I have been making escape plans all this time?" Mr. Bright asks.. but it's not necessarily aimed at Willow. He looks thoughtful.
"Probably," Willow tends to agree. "Why haven't you? Were you just planning to outlive ... a mage that can keep people alive forever?"
"It isn't that.. exactly," Mr. Bright says, still looking a bit distant. "Escaping only to die in the attempt due to lack of information is the same as failure," the unicorn says. "Our lives here are not enriching, but it is the raiders that take losses. I also don't know what keeps Sackcloth's men in line. He could be drugging them, but.. I wan't to say I haven't seen it, but I probably wouldn't know either way. Do they have reason to protect the Doctor as well as the raiders? What holds them here. They're just mortals - I'd think suicide was a reasonable option for them, but they haven't taken it."
"Not really. When your life is short, you hang on to every moment," Willow points out. "You've spent too much time alone, you have lost the ability to understand people. Suicide is more something we might consider than them, we have lived far longer and seen much more. But there is little point on dwelling why you did not; what matters is what we do now."
"We need to know where the base dwellers stand," Mr. Bright says with a bit more certainty. "The raiders are essential to an escape, but the others could still cause problems if they oppose it. Mr. Sackcloth isn't the only Rhian, and there are the other guests to consider as well. They would certainly be willing, I think.. if they had their wits about them."
"Do you really think they will all be willing? This has been going on for a while, and yet no one has tried," Willow points out. "IT doesn't seem sane that everyone here hasn't banded together to escape yet."
"We all use assumed names and do not share our pasts," Mr. Bright notes. "I don't know if that's part of the problem or a symptom of it. But the other captives certainly have no ties to the Doctor or his backers. They were taken during the airship raids. At first.. at first it was as a supply of fresh meat, I think. But those that fall in the raids have been more than enough to satisfy the Rakhtors. They won't eat jerky. I admit I may have been focusing on the suicide tactics specifically to make certain of that."
"That is rather gruesome of you," Willow notes. "People are not just numbers to calculate and disburse as you choose. You really have spent far too long alone."
"I'm a tactician," Mr. Bright says a bit regretfully. "The raiders are willing to throw themselves at the Yodhrephath. I assume the hostages.. or whatever they are.. are less fatalistic."
"I hope so," Willow notes, "And you have to wonder why the raiders are so willing to die, then."
"I suspect they can't tell the difference between living as they are and dying," the unicorn notes. "There are only a few 'professionals' I think, like Mr. Stitch and his.. friend or brother. The rest don't have the skills to put up a real fight."
The sounds of Sackcloth knocking at the door interrupts. It opens a crack, and the Rhian says, "I have Mr. Stitch."
"I'm sure there is an ointment for that," Willow quips a bit dryly.
There's a chuffing snort from the Rhian, and then he opens the door. Stitch saunters in and looks around, noting the empty chair. "I didn't think ye had extra chairs," he notes, then spins it around so he can sit and rest his arms on the chair's back. And protect his genitals from any sudden kicks as well, probably. "So, what can I do for the High Pinhead?" Sackcloth closes the door almost all the way closed, but is clearly listening in.
"Develop some manners and decorum," Willow suggests and waves her right hand a little. "But other than that, we would appreciate it if my existence wasn't spread beyond those that already know of me. Or to put it another way, the mysterious doctor has no need to know of me."
"The Doctor should be arriving soon for his inspection and my report," Mr. Bright says, the insult not phasing him at all. "I agree that Miss Black should be kept secret. Where do you stand on this?"
The Vartan turns his head slightly to focus one eye on Bright. "Taken a liking to her then? She's got your clothes on. Moved in and such already?"
"I see no reason for her to remain in a cell," Mr. Bright says. "And you haven't answered the question."
"And you haven't taken a liking to me?" Willow asks Mr. Stitch. "I happen to remember your reactions earlier."
"Hmm, before I commit t' anything, I'd like a private word with the lady," the bird requests. Mr. Bright doesn't look happy with that, and looks to Willow.
Willow shrugs slightly at the request. "I do not see any harm in it," she tells Mr. Bright. "I will be okay."
"Mr. Sackcloth is right outside the door," Mr. Bright says, more to inform Stitch than to remind Willow. He doesn't suggest that he'd be rushing in to defend if she yelled though. He's honest about his abilities if nothing else. He gets up and leaves, and once the door closes the first thing Stitch does is stand up and lean over the table to see what Bright was sitting on. "Books. I guess this proves that Bright really is a smart-ass, heh?" he tells Willow.
"And I am not?" Willow inquires, brow arched a little. "So, what did you want to speak to me about?" she asks, getting right to the point as she watches him warily.
There's a scraping noise as the Vartan turns his chair so he's facing Willow. "What's his end-game?" Stitch rasps.
"Mr. Bright? I have no idea, other than he wants to get out of here, same as me," Willow explains and shrugs a little bit. "Just because we're both Aeonians doesn't mean we know each other. I've never met him before you brought me here. What is your end game?"
"Ending the game, maybe," the Vartan says. "But I ain't big on tactical stuff. Otherwise I wouldn't a been caught in the first place." He wheezes some laughter at that. "So I need t'know Bright's working on somethin' to make defyin' the Doc worth it."
"Well, that's what this meeting is all about," Willow notes. "A plan cannot be easily made without knowing a fair number here would back it. What does this Doctor have on all of you anyway? I understand he saved you, but why are you now bound to him over it?"
"I thought the wors' pain ever was when my throat was slit," the Vartan says. "It ain't. The Doc's process is cruel. But once he's done it.. brought someone back from the edge.. he's got you. The same life can be shuffled around, see, if someone more useful comes along. No big rituals or nothing. Everyone is a ready-made-sacrifice once it's been done to ya. And getting yer life sucked out.. that is the worst pain their is."
"Doesn't he have to be close by, though? Surely he cannot do it from long distance," Willow points out. "So as long as you were never near him again you would be fine, no?"
"Ain't so sure.. thing is, it's not something most are willin' to find out," the Vartan says. "We got no idea how it works, but we've felt the effects. Right after waking up, he give ya a taste of what it means to cross him. It's more effective than a slave collar, cause you can't see it. And the thing is.. it makes dyin' tricky too. Gotta be sure he can't just snap you back before ya hit the ground. At least for us trained types. The fodder.. they have their way out."
"What surprises me I suppose is ... why haven't you asked those in Babel for help?" Willow inquires, tilting her head a little. "That supposed demi-god is is the patron of moving spirits, isn't he? It? I don't know what gender it is; all Eeee look the same to me. Perhaps that creature could break the hold."
"Babel's a long way off, and I ain't the praying sort," Stitch admits. "Sunala might think we're undead or something. Either way, hard to claim to be victims given how we got into this situation. Why'd she or her kin give a Skreek's ass 'bout us? We don't even give a Skreek's ass about us. That's why I was hopin' Bright would come up with something. The Doc will be coming in on a small airship, bigger one on the follow-up with the supplies and fodder. Got maybe three days, tops, before he's overdue back in the world."
"Now, I do know he ain't aware of when we die," the bird adds. "He always got to have a count of the casualties after a raid."
"I'm from Sylvania. I know undead. You are not undead," Willow points out. "I also know there are ways of dealing with many things; an artifact called the Light can do more than any living mage can, and there are rumors that ... eh, not important. To be able to make any sort of full plan we need to really know what the doctor's limits really are. That he cannot tell how many died is a telling point I suppose. He can't track you, then. And is it always the same doctor, or different people under that mask?"
"I never thought it might diff'rent guys," the Vartan admits, and ruffles his feathers. "Mask.. and voice is always scratchy.. I suppose someone could just drink something to do that to their voice or fake it. An Eeee might pick up on th' difference.. but visits are far between y'know? Long time to remember, and.. frankly, I think most would rather ferget that voice. But I don't see why there couldn't be more than one. I mean.. he never tried to do the healing trick here, but nobody gets hurt that bad lasts long enough to find out. Now.. I been doing some preparing o' me own.. just in case the Pinhead.. no offence.. came up with something."
"None taken. I have been called worse," Willow claims. "So, if you've been planning too, then should he come in and we all discuss this without insulting each other. We had been discussing you might want something from us to keep my existence secret, but now it seems like you aren't exactly keen to tell him anyway."
"Oh, well.. I probably will need something," the Vartan claims. "I gotta convince the others in the crew.. and deal with any that ain't willing to go along, after all. But I guess I got what I needed without having to do word-dodgems with the knotty-thinkers out there."
"What is it that you need, then?" Willow asks, eyes narrowed a little.
"That'll depend!" the bird says, then calls, "You lot can come back in, we finished fer now!"
"Depend on what?" Willow presses a bit.
"On what I kin get away with," the Vartan assures Willow and gives her a wink just before Mr. Bright comes back in. "Is everything alright?" he asks Willow.
"Everything is better than what it could have been," Willow replies and shrugs a little. "There is no love between him and the Doctor. I do believe he is willing to work with us."
Retaking his seat, Mr. Bright asks, "How willing?"
"Willing enough, if you got a plan worth trying," Stitch replies.
"I need information to formulate a proper plan," the unicorn claims. "How big is the Doctor's airship? How many crew it? How far is it when you go to pick him up? How do you know when he's arriving? What hold has he got on your men? To start."
"Unless there is more, the main hold is the threat of having their life sucked back. It is ... painful, apparently," Willow offers.
"Fer this visit, small.. maybe 6 crew. Ptera powered," the Vartan starts to count off. "Ten minute flight, usually. Not always the same, he doesn't come close. Prolly so the crew don't know where the base is. We got a beacon thingy. It lights up when he's near, and gets brighter when he get closer, that's how we find his ship. And yeah, if he's the same Doc that woke us up from bein' dead or nearly so, he worked his mojo on us so we know the stakes."
"How many of your men would take his side over ours?" Mr. Bright asks next, looking grim.
"Oh.. that depends on the incentives, see?" the Vartan says. "If'n they don't wanna risk it, I got a really, really sharp metal blade. Head comes off, no chance of the Doc bringing ya back."
"I was going to suggest flying them off to an isolated spot, and claiming they fell in battle," Mr. Bright says.
"Only if you have time to use it," Willow points out.
"It ain't like I'd be huntin' them down," Stitch says to Willow. "But flying 'em off is still a risk. We don't know how far the Doc's reach is. He can't tell when we die, but that don't mean he can't find us if we're alive, see? It's all in, or all out."
"And if he can sense them, it means he'll know something is up," Mr. Bright concludes.
"What is the liklihood he can sense them, though? This is just a mage after all, and mages have limits," Willow points out. "And for that matter, why not just kill the doctor?"
"Well, we don't know," the Vartan says. "He ain't afraid of that, though. No bodyguards. So he trusts us, or in his control over us. Or he's not really here, and it's just another slave made to look and sound like 'im."
"Or there is more than one," Willow reminds.
"Let's focus on what we do know," Bright says. "There's an airship, and you know how to get to it, and the crew isn't likely to be a match for you, right?"
Willow wisely doesn't say 'not in the physical sense, no. But mentally? A mushroom would have the upper hand.'
"They're sailors, no different than they ones we face in the raids," the pirate claims. "Only they ain't got a witch flying guard on 'em."
"And we have a few Babelite Eeee here," Mr. Bright says. "If it could be anyone under the mask and voice, then it can be one of ours on the way back, so the airship crew won't expect anything until it's too late. If the Doctor gave you a magic beacon, it's possible the crew bringing him here has one too. They can't suspect anything until it's too late."
"Now now, you have to admit those witches can kick your butt," Willow comments. "I saw one of them in action."
"Right, but they ain't gonna be an issue with the Doctor," the Vartan says. "We'd need something to distract the crew though, get 'em all in one place or looking the same way. Can't take 'em with just the escort, gotta be from all directions, make 'em panic before they can do anything like send a message."
"How would they send a message?" Willow inquires. "Have you seen them message before?"
"Nope, but if they got magic signal things for us to use, I'd reckon they had some of their own too," the Vartan says.
"Reasonable assumption," Willow agrees.
"Then the next question is timing," Bright notes. "I am fairly certain the Doctor doesn't know of the raid until the affected ships put in to port - now that I know they are left to go on. If it's a day to get over the mountains and into port, and another day for the Doctor's ship to prepare and launch, then one day to travel here seems reasonable. That does not give us a lot of time before the Doctor is overdue. So assume a full day before there is concern, another day at least to prepare the supply ship that I assume must exist, and.. how long to get back here? What is the supply ship like?"
"The small ship is fast," Stitch says. "I know from the fodder that the supply ship takes three days from launch to get here. It's too big for Ptera power, but they weren't sure if it was pure sail or if there was a mage involved. They get shipped out below-deck until they get here."
"Four days before a quick response then, unless they have another fast ship ready," Mr. Bright says. "Can we get a bigger ship in that time?"
"How big of a ship would we need? How many people are here?" WIllow has to ask.
"At least twenty non-flyers," Mr. Bright says. "With the raiders on the Rakhtors carrying some, maybe we could all evacuate at once, but the birds can't make it to Babel, and Saskanar is out of the question - the Doctor could have allies in any close port. We need to know if any of our people are also embedded spies or have something at risk that precludes their cooperation."
"Well.. depending on who they send to check on the overdue Doc, there's another option," Stitch points out. "We steal the supply ship when it comes."
"Babel is a risk too unless you want to try to claim some sort of sanctuary," Willow points out, "Given the number of Yodhrephath you have caused issues for, they will want blood."
"We need more time," Bright says. "We'll need to negotiate safe passage, which means splitting up. If they do have a means of sending a message, we'll need to use it ourselves to send a false one. A report of going down in the mountains.. something that will eat up time spent in a search."
"Why not claim that the Yodhrephath have been doing more exploratory flights and the ship had to dry-dock for a bit until they move on?" Willow asks, "That way they won't even try to look."
"Wouldn't take many to fly the sloop," Stitch says. "And with Miss Ambassador as the negotiator we could maybe get real Yodhrephath to come an' back up that story."
"You'd need to give them something valuable to avoid execution," Mr. Bright points out.
"Hah, we wouldn't be here any more! It's you lot that needs the rescue," the Vartain claims. "But.. if we want a bargaining chip, then I suggest you figure out how to do this without killing the Doc.. or whoever it is. He'll have valuable information either way, given proper persuasion."
"You have a lot of faith in me," Willow notes, "Most of my dealings were with the new government, not the theological sects. They scare me, frankly." She even shivers a little. "Have you ever seen one up close? I mean really up close? I saw the High Priestess of Rephath. She could turn a Rhian stallion into a gelding with just a hard look."
"Which is why I'd rather have them going after the Doc's people instead of us," the Vartain replies. "The Government.. they probably have bounties on rogue mages, aye? I know enough to guess who the Doc was. That little trick of his sure fits with the old Royal Mages, don't it? If they can get the Yodhrephath to play escorts and hunt pirates, they should have enough pull for something like this."
"Mr. Sackcloth, how reasonable is it to keep the Doctor - assuming it's the genuine one - safely alive?" Mr. Bright asks.
"And preferably unconscious," Willow adds.
"If I'm not using up the sedatives on the captives, it should be doable," the Rhian notes. "Eeee don't take as much to keep down as even a Skreek does. Babelites don't have the same metabolism as Sasky's either, but all the same they're lightweights."
"And you aren't a spy for the Doctor, are you Mr. Sackcloth?" Mr. Bright asks.
"What if he's Sylvanian strain? They're built much sturdier," Willow notes.
"If I was I wouldn't admit to it," the Rhian says, and looks to Willow. "I'm not familiar with them. How much sturdier?"
"On average? twenty-five to fifty percent heavier," Willow explains, "Stronger than a skreek in some cases. Also usually vampiric."
"How vampiric?" the nurse asks. "I mean.. how much do they need to drink, if you know? Starvation doesn't help with stamina. Even if he's a regular Eeee, I still gotta be careful. An overdose will do a lot more than make him go to sleep. And if I'm hearing right and it might be a decoy, how do we check for.. curses, or death magic or something on him?"
"Someone here might be sensitive to magic," Mr. Bright says. "Mr. Stitch has enchanted tools. He can see if anyone of his crew senses anything from them."
"Depends on how recently they ate. They can usually go a few days without with no ill effects," Willow explains and has to shrug a little more. "But as for sensing magic ... well, I can a little. I'm no mage, though."
"You haven't had your magical resistance broken, have you?" Sackcloth asks. "The raiders probably don't have any, if I'm guessing right. Assuming it's some kind of Life Magic, transferring energy like that wouldn't be possible if there was resistance. But I imagine being half or three-quarters dead would lower it. Would explain why they've all got those nasty healed-over wounds."
"Killing the patient in order to treat them?" Mr. Bright asks.
"Well ... I might have. I have worked with the Countess, after all. She is an expert in life magic," Willow admits. "She's semi-immortal and controls vast powers to shape and change others. How do you think she turns people into hogs if they attack her County. So, I've been exposed to her magic; not on me of course, but exposed."
"Hmm, might be something to that," Stitch mutters. "Vartans usually pretty high in resistance. Not so sure about Poodles, but it does mean there's magic that can overcome or get past it. Can you tell if something like that's been done to someone?"
"Can I? Yes, when I am close enough," Willow admits. "It ... leaves people feeling like clay, sort of."
"Squishy. Indistinct," Willow tries to add.
"Well, getting close to us ain't hard," the Vartan laughs. "But you need to check the base workers too. Someone 'squishy' could be a spy."
"You're very squishy," Willow remarks rather dryly to Mr. Stitch.
"Not where it counts!" the Vartan claims. "But since there ain't any booze in this hole, what you got is the next best thing to those with toes I hear," the man says. "They'll all line to get some straight from the tap, and then you can feel 'em out."
Willow rubs her face. "I am not a milk-sow," she grumbles and glares at the vartan.
"You're a milk-mare, I know," Stitch replies. "And it gives you an excuse to get close-up time with anyone without a beak. Probably even the Naga. And it's relatively quick. A few sucks, they're stoned and you get the next one. Just gotta remember if any are squishy! And if none of them are, you've given them a reason not to turn you in."
"You make me sound like a glorified whore," Willow remarks, sounding a little annoyed and offended. "Is there really no other option?"
"Well, how would you suggest checking everyone?" the Vartan asks.
"Drug them all and I will check one by one," Willow suggests, though her tone suggests she doesn't really believe that is possible.
"On what pretext?" Sackcloth asks gamely.
"Looking for a personal servant," Mr. Bright offers.
Willow rubs her face again. "Fine, fine, I'll do the milk bit. At least it is better than my first suggestion," she comments.
"How would a spy report to the Doctor?" Mr. Bright has to wonder. "Another magical messaging device?"
"How big are those beacon things?" Sackcloth asks Stitch.
"Wearable medallions," the Vartan replies.
"Something for sending a message long-distance should be larger," the Rhian suggests.
"Crystal balls. Carrier-Eeee. Arrows," Willow mutters as she looks at her chest.
"No," Mr. Bright claims. "You are over-complicating it, which is never a good idea with spy-work. A mole would use a dead drop - a specific place where a coded message could be hidden. It could even be as simple as a chalk mark, a smudge or something innocuous and easily overlooked, but that the Doctor would notice."
"Yer boobs will survive," Stitch assures Willow. "It's what they're made for. Mostly."
"True. It is better than being your slave," Willow notes.
"I don't need a slave.. just someone to make my final hours enjoyable in case I'm gonna get my life sucked out of me a lot harder than you'll be having your milk sucked," Stitch says and winks at the mare.
Willow chuffs a bit at that. "I do believe I am starting to like you a little, I suppose," she concedes. "So, when do we want to begin this?"
"Time is short," Mr. Bright notes. "You should start in the morning. Mr. Sackcloth can come up with a medical reason for it. Unicorn milk helps prevent scurvy, perhaps. There's never enough fruit to last the Saskanarians after all."
"We don't know that it doesn't help prevent scurvy," the Rhian agrees.
"It does quite a few things, but this will do, I suppose," Willow concedes and sighs.
"Any other suggestions?" Mr. Bright asks.
"I'll go see to those I trust, and get a group together to approach the ones I'm not sure of," Stitch says, surrendering his chair.
"From me? Not yet, no. I might also be able to get them to tell me the truth to a question about if they are a spy, maybe, while they are under the influence," Willow hesitantly suggests.
"That will require being alone with each of them," Mr. Bright says.
"Not a problem," Sackcloth assures. "They still think she's in her cell."
"I am still a prisoner," Willow points out. "Not much has really changed."
"Well, we're all prisoners," Sackcloth claims before bidding goodnight, and joins Mr. Stitch in leaving.
"I'm sorry for putting you through all of this," Mr. Bright says. "It isn't your responsibility to.. inspire rebellion. Or help route out spies."
"This is positively mundane. Deal with a rebellion of bodies that refuse to stay in the ground and smell like molten sulfur, and thats just Gallis. The zombies are even more irritating," Willow says in a lame sort of joke, along with a sigh. "It's better than doing nothing at all, or being tied up. I just hope it works."
"We still need to come up with a plan for quickly disabling the Doctor," Mr. Bright notes, and rubs around the base of his horn. "Mr. Sackcloth can I can work that out though. I'm sure it's just a matter of calculating a proper dosage and quickly employing the syringe.."
"I could probably help with that too," Willow claims and rubs the base of her own horn a bit too. "But ... we cannot plan too much. We need to be flexible in plan," she comments, stands, then heads over to Mr. Bright's bed. She flops herself down in it and sprawls out a little, too. "And you have other studies to attend to as well."