36. Acclamation

While the island prepared for Acclamation’s day, Alistair prepared for another operation.

By now, he should have grown used to having something dangerous in motion somewhere. As his reach spread, his clones would inevitably run into more conflict. He had not been naïve for years. Struggle was simply part of the world.

Still, the recent level and the experience of bringing down an enemy much stronger than himself did not make him foolish enough to think he could face the group already waiting near the bloom. There were too many of them. Even from a shallow count, there were already about a dozen people between the camp and the first arrivals from outside the island, and judging from what Karn had said, the important ones were unlikely to be any weaker than him.

So would he give up on the Flowbloom?

Certainly not.

He would simply have to make the field worse for everyone else while improving it for himself. That required chaos.

With the location narrowed down, he began by creating something he could sell. He used Seeker first, while the pull toward the target was still fresh and reliable, to turn the general landmark chain into the most accurate rough path he could manage.

The map itself was simple. Paper was too expensive to waste, so Survivor scavenged the materials from cheap sources. He used a torn cargo wrapper, two flattened scraps cut from the blank backs of old account sheets, and a thin board to press them straight. Then he used charcoal from a cookfire mixed with a little grease so the marks would hold better. Alistair sketched the ridge of needlefir trees, the creek fork, the split stone, and the wide depression of Hollowbend Valley, then marked a narrowing line that suggested where the flower might be found. It was accurate enough to draw searchers into the same ground.

Armed with those rough guides, Falsehand rode first to the port. There, he worked through taverns and back rooms, selling his knowledge for shards. Of course, he lacked the reliability the mercenaries had with their tokens and signed contracts, but he did not need to make a fortune. He only needed people to believe the lead and pass it onward.

Falsehand’s class fit that work perfectly. Some attempts failed immediately. One group of dockside roughs laughed him off and called the map a child’s drawing. A broker’s clerk stared at him for half a minute, then asked three pointed questions in a row that made it clear he knew Falsehand was too slippery to trust. But other tries went better. Gambling men with shards to risk on a rumor, a pair of local hunters hoping for luck, one overeager man with delusions of becoming rich overnight. In the end, Falsehand managed to pass along several copies of the route and the rumor of the Acclamation bloom in exchange for a couple hundred shards altogether. Not a fortune, but shards added up, and Alistair’s expenses were never going to shrink.

After that, Falsehand rode to Verevain and repeated the approach. There the results were worse. Verevain was more suspicious, or perhaps simply accustomed to inaccurate rumors drifting in from the port. He sold only two copies, both to men who seemed slightly drunk and more interested in the story than in the plan. That earned only a few dozen shards.

Dorelle was easier in one sense and harder in another. It was closer, and his main body was there, so Falsehand simply dissolved outside town and was resummoned later. But Dorelle also had fewer reckless people willing to spend on rumor alone. He still managed to move a few more copies there before ending the effort.

The important part was spreading the news, not the shards.

He did not truly expect the men he sold the maps to appear at the bloom themselves, at least not in time. But he wanted the rumor to move, to be repeated, exaggerated, and passed toward groups with actual means.

It became the first step of what he privately started calling the Chaotic Bloom operation.

The second step was preparation near the site itself. He moved supplies into the wild and stored them in a hidden hollow not far from the clearing but outside the obvious search lines. Then he positioned as many clones as he could spare along the approaches through the wild.

Some stayed on likely paths, while others watched the crossings between the ridge and the valley. Others kept eyes on the road and on the routes a mounted group would naturally choose. They were not there to fight, but to keep him informed. If chaos began, he wanted to know who was moving, where they were going, and who remained unseen.

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Meanwhile, Shade kept collecting as much information as possible around the bloom clearing itself.

While the operation unfolded, the towns slowly entered their Acclamation mood.

Verevain was the most visibly festive of the two. It spent shards on decoration. The market was louder, fuller, and less cautious than usual. People bought better food, started drinking earlier, and seemed less reluctant to spend for one day.

The port was different. Its mood was just as lively, but more compressed. Most of the celebration was swallowed into taverns, inns, and dockside drinking spaces instead of spilling out into the open streets.

Dorelle had looked quiet at first, almost empty and barely festive. Then noon came, and the town changed all at once. Farmers flowed in from the surrounding land, food stalls appeared with startling speed, and the whole place turned into a culinary contest. Dorelle did not decorate much. It became its own decoration through people, smoke, and food.