Puk decided it wouldn’t hurt to ask. “How about the good one?”
“Twenty crescents!”
“I’ll take the shitty one, then.”
“Excellent! Bring it to the back and we’ll get you sorted!”
It took more stretching than he originally estimated, but Puk managed to grab each piece of the set off the tilted shelf and wind his way through the rest of the maze to the back of the shop, where he was greeted by the exact image he had conjured in his mind.
The jolly creep grinned widely and remarked, “That’s quite an armful you’ve got there, friend!”
“Yes,” Puk huffed, carefully piling the goods onto the countertop before the lumbering shopkeeper.
The man’s smile faltered for a split second and he asked, “Where’s the sugar bowl?”
“There was no sugar bowl with the set. Maybe that’s only with the good one.”
“No, no, I’m positive there was a sugar bowl with the shitty set as well.”
“Well, it ain’t there.”
“Hmm. That’s unfortunate. A good tea set really should have an accompanying sugar bowl.”
“Too true, but this is a shitty tea set. If there’s a missing sugar bowl, how’s about you knock a crescent off the price for me?”
The man shook his head and tsk-tsk-tsked. “I’m afraid I can’t do that, sorry.”
He paid the man the three crescents and waited while he stuffed all the pieces of the set into a cloth bag and tied it up tight.
He handed the bag over to Puk and said, “Be sure not to rattle it too much. You might chip some of the pieces!”
“More than they’re already chipped, you mean?” said Puk dryly.
“Precisely.”
“Alright. Well, thanks,” said Puk, and he turned to navigate the maze again to find his way out of the shop. Once he was halfway back to the front, he shouted to the jolly creep, “Hey, where’s the carriage station?”
“There’s one at each entrance to the city!”
“Well, no shit, but how do I get there? Where’s the Gaze?” If he could at least make his way to the Gaze, he could easily navigate to one of the stations. Luckily, the man was able to provide directions for him, and they were fairly simple.
Outside, the contents of his bag clattered together with every step, and he prayed he wouldn’t be handing Botro a bag of ceramic chunks by the time he made it back to the inn.
It took another solid fifteen minutes of walking before he found his way to the Gaze. From there, it was an easy trek to the carriage station at the Mandible Gate. Puk wondered whether he would ever find his way back to Shiar’s Slumber.
He stopped for a moment to gaze at the unending desert outside the city. The Mandible Gate opened up to the eastern Herrilock desert, the Cascades. Seroo’s Eye was, in essence, the dividing point between the Cascades and the Gogol.
At the edge of the Cascades was a beautiful, serene savannah, which bled into Gillus, an all-around much less hot and more green country than the one in which Puk currently found himself stuck.
He looked at Seroo’s teeth on the gate to his right, all of which were much bigger than his entire body. The teeth lined the beast’s skull all along the ceiling, curving up from the sand the skull sunk into all the way back into the station that was carved into the side of the upper jaw.
Puk ducked inside and bee-lined for the ticket queue. After a few minutes, he was attended to.
“Hi there. I’m looking to see how much it is for a ticket to Restick,” he said.
“Restick wagons depart from the Spine Gate,” said the woman with a dazed look in her eye. “You’ll need to go there to get to Restick.”
Puk nodded. “Okay, yeah, that’s fine, but I’m not looking to depart right now. Can you just give me a price?”
The woman groaned and consulted a pricing chart sitting in front of her, out of customers’ reach. Her eyes flickered over the list, and finally she said, “The current price for a ticket to Restick is thirty crescents for a public wagon or eighty for luxury.”
“What’s in a luxury wagon?” Puk asked, his interest piqued.
“Are you interested in booking a luxury wagon to Restick?”
“Interested? Yes. Able to? No.”
The woman huffed. “Luxury wagons are for our most valuable patrons. They offer a higher class of seating, more space, and complimentary food and beverage on the journey.”
“Sounds nice.”
“It is luxurious.”
“I’m sure,” said Puk. “Thanks for your help.”
It was a simple task, and it was complete. He left the station and sought an unoccupied bench on which to rest and contemplate the new information.
Thirty crescents was a lot of crescents to a man who only had three crescents.
“Dammit,” he whispered, half-expecting the jolly creep to shout a reply he somehow heard from his horrifically-constructed shop. He never did catch the name of it.
It couldn’t be helped. He found himself thinking, How much fire-spit could three crescents snag me?
He sighed and hopped up off the bench, in search of a darkened alley somewhere deep in the skull of Seroo.
- -
The second outpost was farther along the trail than she remembered. It always was.
Kali and Bango arrived just before the sun disappeared completely behind the distant dunes, igniting the sky in an orange and purple blaze that engulfed the Gogol.
The best thing about travelers’ outposts was that they were owned and operated by the Herrilockian government, so all amenities were free. Herrilock was mostly desert, which could be a cruel, unforgiving place no matter the time of day, so the officials had wanted to establish safe havens for travelers throughout the country.
Which meant that Bango was now stabled free of charge, and Kali was on her way inside the modest building for a bit of relaxation in the lounge.
Most outposts comprised of a dining area, a lobby, and five to ten rooms. This one, however, was one of the bigger establishments, given its central location in regards to several popular destinations such as Seroo’s Eye, the Repository, and Marrowlash. Due to the increased traffic, it contained a handful more rooms and a bar lounge area where guests could unwind. It was nothing fancy, as to be expected since it was government-subsidized, but it was appreciated.
First things first, Kali checked in to a room and headed upstairs to unload her possessions. The room wasn’t any bigger than her bedroom back at home, which for some reason felt cramped when she was there but gave her a sense of familiar coziness at the outpost.
There was a window by the bed, which overlooked nothing of note. She gazed outside and watched the last minute or two of sunset as wind kicked up flurries of sand.
Her sister Lissia had always been deathly afraid of sandstorms. They were no laughing matter, and of course Kali would rather not be in one if given the option, but even the prospect of them threatened to send Lissia into a panic attack. One of the things she was most excited about when getting a job at the Repository was that the entire staff had living arrangements inside the massive building. Everything was there for her: her home, food, her work. She never had to venture out into the dunes if she didn’t want to. It was a chore getting her to come visit the family nowadays.
With the sun swallowed by the sands and a dark cool settling over the Gogol, Kali left her room to make way for the lounge.
There were more people roaming about than she thought the outpost could house. Perhaps it had recently expanded without her realizing? Regardless, twenty or so people were gathered at the bar, sitting around tables, or chatting in shadowy corners.
Three centripts, who she suspected were brothers, stood at the bar chittering away in Carsuak and laughing heartily at each other. Their anatomy made sitting in chairs an unwieldy task. The biggest of the three had glittering multicolored gems encrusted on almost all of his segments. Kali shuddered at the thought of catching the sunlight bouncing off his
back.
In the farthest, darkest corner of the lounge was a man discussing what appeared to be gravely serious business with an ujath. Kali swiftly averted her eyes from the scene, not wanting to cause any trouble or become wrapped up in anything unsavory.
At least half of the tables were occupied by groups of people long lost to their drinks, having settled in for the night and gladly indulging in free alcohol while they could.
Kali wasn’t much of a drinker, but she had stayed there enough times to know the bar closed early, only an hour or two after sundown. It was meant to be a measure to stop people from getting too drunk (and bankrupting Herrilock), but all it truly resulted in was travelers arriving as early in the day as possible to get started on drinking before the bartender cut everyone off. It was not the smartest system, so everyone wanted to take advantage before new rules were inevitably implemented.
She took a seat at an empty two-person table near the bar and let out an exhausted sigh. The long day of travel left her exhausted, and there was one more ahead of her. By the next night, she should be home in her own bed. The speed of ayotes was a marvel.
A young man stopped by her table and asked if there was anything he could get her. In her fatigue, it took her a moment to realize he was an employee and not someone trying to hit on her.
“Just a water, thanks,” she said.
The boy smiled and hurried away to fetch her order. He returned only a minute later with a nearly-overflowing glass of ice cold water. She downed half the glass at once then set it back down on the table, still gripping it in her hand, letting it cool her vibrant, colorful skin. She hadn’t realized how parched she was; she instantly felt perkier.
It was then a man sidled up to the table and plopped himself down in the seat opposite hers. He had bloodshot eyes and olive jeornish skin that was caked in a layer of grit. His long, white hair was greasy and knotted. On top of his head sat a brown hat with a wide, bent brim. When he smiled crookedly at her, Kali was genuinely shocked that he still had all of his teeth, though they were yellowed.
“Hey there, pretty lady,” he said. Kali forced herself not to groan. “Always love meetin’ a pretty faif like yourself. Your skin’s the prettiest I did ever seen, you know that? Blue and pink and purple? How often’s a faif got three colors in there, huh?”
“Is this meant to be charming?” Kali asked him.
The man’s smile faltered, but he recovered quickly. “Name’s Jeth,” he said, reaching for her hand to shake it. She retracted, not wanting to give him even the smallest opportunity to touch the skin he was evidently so fond of. He pulled back and asked, “What’s yours?”
“You don’t need to know,” she said. “You can leave, though.”
Jeth frowned at this. “I’m just tryin’ to be friendly. Ain’t that a good thing? Bein’ friendly?”
It was the hardest thing she ever had to do, but Kali refrained from rolling her eyes. She didn’t want to set the guy off. There was no telling what he might do.
“Alright, well, you’ve been friendly, and now I’d like to be left alone,” she said. “If you’d so kindly leave me to my water.”
The bedraggled man’s eyes flicked toward her half-empty glass. “I can fill that up for you,” he offered. “Or I can get you something a little stronger. Something to make you feel good.”
“I feel fine.”
“You sure about that?”
“Quite sure.”
Her patience was growing thin, as was Jeth’s. The smile had completely evaporated from his face, and his eyes narrowed to slits.
“You travelin’ alone, ma’am?” he asked her.
Kali remained silent, glaring at him.
He continued anyway. “Desert’s a rough place for a pretty, delicate thing like you to be wanderin’ through all alone. I’m just tryin’ to look out for your best interests, is all.”
He pushed himself up out of the chair and tipped his hat to her. He then stalked away into the back corner of the room and struck up a conversation with the ujath and man who were standing there. Kali was unsurprised that they were all getting along.
The young waiter suddenly reappeared and asked her, “Are you alright, ma’am? Do you need our staff to intervene?”
A bit late to act valiant, Kali thought, but she said, “No, I’m fine. He’s gone now.”
“Very well. Please let me know if there’s anything we can do for you. Would you like a refill of your water?” She nodded and he took her glass to fill up.
While she awaited his return, a woman at the table next to hers leaned over and asked, “Are you actually okay?”
Kali smiled. “Yeah, I’m fine.”
“Let me know if you need help dealing with him,” the woman said. Her face was stern. She was a bit older, probably older even than Kali’s father, but she was in great shape and looked to be a formidable opponent in a fight. She could crumple Jeth like a piece of paper.
“Thanks,” said Kali. “I appreciate that.”
“No worries. I used to be an Atluan Guard before I retired, so I’ve dealt with plenty of assholes like him in my time,” she said. “Looks to me like he’s a bit buzzed on fire-spit. I heard him say earlier that he’s goin’ down south, and I hear the supply there is good right now. But that’s none of my concern anymore, unless he starts some shit.”
Kali was familiar with the drug, but had never partaken in any. The only illicit substance she had been involved with was getting into her father’s alcohol stash in her early teens. He was angrier about the lost revenue than the fact she had gotten disgustingly sick.
“I saw a group of cordols moving north today, actually,” she said. Where there were cordols, there was ample fire-spit.
The woman nodded. “Yeah, they’ve been roaming around the south for a while now and I guess it’s the time of year they head north. I’m sure suppliers up there are just giddy with anticipation.” Her voice was tinged with bitterness.
“I was actually wondering about that today when I saw them. Do you know why they migrate?”
The woman shrugged. “There’s a lot I don’t know about. I know how to swing a sword and shoot a gun. Don’t know why animals do what they do, especially some of the crazy shit y’all got here in the desert.” And with that, she leaned away to rejoin the conversation with her own companions.
The waiter brought her glass of water back to the table, some of it sloshing over the rim and splashing onto the wood as he set it down.
“Anything else I can grab for you, ma’am?” he asked.
Kali glanced over the guy’s shoulder and watched Jeth chatting with his newfound friends in the corner. His back was turned to her, yet she still felt like he was acutely aware of her presence.
“No, thanks,” she told the young man. “Just the water is fine.”
- -
Three crescents did not buy any fire-spit, but it bought Puk some pity, which bought him some fire-spit.
He snorted a line with the dealer he’d found, a short, ratty-looking guy with ugly orange overalls, a mushroom cap, and an unbelievable stench. Their names were not exchanged, but the guy thought it was funny and pathetic that Puk had so little money (“Even my kid’s got more money than that!”) and so he shared a line.
A while later, he had made his way back to Shiar’s Slumber with more than a bit of drowsiness in his gait. He certainly wouldn’t say no to a nap.
As he entered the inn, the first thing he noticed was that a young woman had replaced the previous receptionist behind the front counter. “Good afternoon, sir,” she greeted him with an air of politeness he did not feel he deserved. “What can I help you with?”
Puk grinned stupidly and held up his noisy cloth bag full of ceramics then said, “I’m lookin’ for Botro.”
The woman wore a puzzled expression but, still smiling, asked, “Is that a delivery for Mr. Shiar?”
“It’s a gift.”
“Oh!” she perked up again. “You’re a friend of Mr. Shiar’
s, then?”
“More like a charity case, but would you find him for me?”
The woman was again confused by his words, but she nodded and disappeared to locate her boss.
Puk thrust himself into a nearby couch with plush green cushions and nestled in while he waited. His eyes fluttered shut and his stalks drooped forward, nearly descending into his gaping mouth.
His nap did not last long, as a pat on the shoulder from Botro suddenly snapped him to attention.
“Welcome back,” the man said in his unwaveringly friendly demeanor. “Did you have a good day?”
“It was decent,” said Puk, raising the bag and presenting it to Botro. “Got you a little something for all the trouble I put you through. Sorry again. If I already apologized, anyway, I don’t remember. If not, then just sorry.”
Botro chuckled and accepted the bag. He pulled it open and reached inside to extract the saucer. He flipped it over, examining the detailed painting.
“It came like that,” Puk said as Botro eyed the chipped edge.
The man laughed again and thanked him. “It’s a lovely set,” he said after looking through the rest of the bag. “I very much appreciate it.”
“There’s no sugar bowl, but not everyone likes sugar anyways, so…” Puk trailed off.
Spit and Song (Ustlian Tales Book 2) Page 8
