The Great Game 🎲 Fallar Discordia

Spies

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Shegseths, Dimensional Shamblers, Vooniths, Insect Philosophers, Zooms, and Servitors of the Outer Gods — Lovecraft had only supplied a partial list. The creatures of the Black Pulse slithered and throbbed into the centre of the cosmos, finding enemies and frenemies in The Frozen Skiff and the Yellow Sky. Everyone knew, though no one dared say, that Skiffs and Skytes were firmly in the anarchic Fallarian sphere of influence. For Cagnazzo, they were the easy conduits to his more challenging operations in The Grey Phantom, from where he attempted the difficult — establishing a spy nexus in The Great Triangle — and also the impossible: penetration of the Vicinese Federation.

Dolcezza would simply have to wait.

So far he had great success in Aatari Lok. For a hundred years he controlled Tarry Doom, making his measurements on the trajectories of souls after they die. And now he had Dactalla in the arms of the most senior ranking Aatari security agent. If she could turn Qayam, Cagnazzo might establish a power base from where he could sink his claws into the Vicinese Guard. This was his most cherished desire. A secondary benefit, or perhaps a consolation, was that a base in Aatari Lok would allow him to strike laterally into the Great Triangle. Who knows, if he could create a network that penetrated the Violet Hoop, he might find a way to direct the occult affinities that were found on Earth. And he might ferret out the Soul Star itself.

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Cagnazzo was so delighted by these possibilities that in his brain he had superimposed a map over everything he read. Yet at the thought of Dactalla the map disappeared, and he was once again looking at the information she had extracted from Qayam’s computer. Yet as intriguing as these pieces of information were, he couldn’t stop his eyes from straying to the bottom of the page.

Her footnotes about her seduction of the Aatari agent were written in point-form, as if she was in a rush yet still wanted to do a thorough, professional job. Cagnazzo knew that the important information was above, but his eyes were, as usual, draw to what was below:

❧ slipped narcozine, methetapine, and somatherin into subject’s martini ❧ led subject into bedroom [Cagnazzo repeated to himself, I will never, ever lose myself in that perfect white face!] ❧ slowly dropped top, skirt, bra, panties ❧ fondled subject’s large cock ❧ applied mouth [I will never, ever lose myself in that perfect white body!] ❧ subject took forever, so I used my hands ❧ slapped subject out of it ❧ threw subject on bed ❧ inserted cock inside [Her incandescent body, glowing with colours and drenched in perfume! I will never, ever lose myself in that perfect white body! ]

Cagnazzo broke off reading her communiqué. He couldn’t stand it any longer.

Only after throwing his goblet of sanguinol at the wall could he return to Dactalla’s exposé of criminality: the kickbacks, lechery, bribery, embezzlement, and blackmail, none of which he cared about now. He chuckled drily, all the joy sucked out of him by the great Sucking Emptiness Below.

Finally, he asked himself, Why didn’t she just say that she drugged Qayam and that his mind went missing for hours?

He refused to think about what went on in that bedroom. It had nothing to do with the main point: he had infiltrated the Vicinese Guard!

He felt like he was suffocating or drowning. The water thrashed all around him as he grabbed onto an ankle, slim and white. And yet all he felt were scales.

He didn’t give a damn what this Qayam knew. He would drag him down with him, beneath the thrashing currents.

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Next: ✏️ In Over My Head

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