Spit and Song (Ustlian Tales Book 2)

by Travis M. Riddle

  And now here she was, attempting one big move that would be generous to describe as a longshot and was probably blatantly illegal if not simply morally dubious, with a man who was barely more than a stranger.

  She suspected she might be met with more regrets at the end of her life than her sister would.

  - -

  It was a sweet relief when the two of them finally arrived at the travelers’ outpost. Puk had never felt so exhausted. The first thing he did was chug a massive glass of water in the bar area, then he followed Kali upstairs to their shared room.

  Now she was downstairs, and he was still tucked away in the room regaining his strength.

  Part of that entailed sprawling across the tiny bed set up in the far corner of the room, cut in half by a window granting a view of the bustling stables below.

  While he lay motionless in bed, Puk lifted one eyestalk up to peer out the window, observing the horses and ayotes that were currently being stabled. There were only two horses, as ayotes were the preferred method of transportation in the desert. The horses’ coats were a beautiful roan, despite the thin layer of sand dusted on them.

  The horses reminded Puk of home. They were much more plentiful in Atlua. He had never learned how to ride one, but he’d ridden on the back of a few with other people, and it had always been an exhilarating experience.

  Puk laid his stalk back down on the bed and clamped his eyes shut. His entire body ached. The greatest soreness was in his tiny webbed feet, and it coursed up through his stumpy legs, through his heaving belly, and up to his head, culminating in a remarkable headache. For a brief moment, he wondered if this whole mess was even going to be worthwhile.

  But he quickly banished those thoughts and sat up to commence the second part of his recuperation: snorting some spit.

  It had been nagging at him the entire length of the Ribroad. At one point, he had almost attempted sneaking some, but in the end didn’t want to risk being caught by Kali and have her abandon the plan. He needed her help. Her money.

  He snatched up the small baggy of powder out of his pack and felt its lightness in his palm. He stretched the opening and looked inside to confirm what he already knew, which was that his supply was running distressingly low.

  There would be an abundance of dealers in Myrisih, and probably plenty of them in Restick as well, but he wasn’t confident his stash would last even that long.

  Shoulda bought more before we left. Idiot. It wouldn’t have taken too long to find another dealer…

  There then came a pang of self-awareness about how pathetic he sounded.

  And that pang was just as swiftly dismissed.

  He carefully poured a line of gray powder onto his outstretched finger, then set the pouch down on the bed and raised the finger to his nose. He inhaled deeply, running his nostril down the line, and flung himself backward onto the mattress.

  The comfort of the drug flooded his senses immediately. His headache dulled, and he felt the euphoric warmth traveling down his body to his aching toes. It was like his entire body was pissing itself, a thought which disturbed him, but only for a brief moment.

  Puk knew he couldn’t reasonably stall for much longer. When Kali was heading downstairs, he told her he was going to get things situated then join her. Soon she would surely wonder what the hold-up was and come check that everything was okay with the room.

  For now, though, he wanted to bask in this glow.

  He reached his eyestalks up to once again look out the window at the horses. They were stabled next to each other, and he could guess that the people they belonged to were traveling together. It seemed an unlikely coincidence that there would be two separate travelers on horseback.

  One of the oldest memories he had of his father Brek was riding with him from Trillowan to Padstow as a child.

  While his fathers Grut and Doro were constant presences in his life and Nork practically pretended he didn’t exist, Brek tended to strike a middle ground. He was always glad to see Puk whenever he did, but it was never much of a priority in his life.

  Brek was a trumpeter in a troupe called The Bards of Pluto, and had been since before Puk was born. They were planning to embark on a new tour and had never been to Padstow before, so the other members tasked him with the job of scoping out the town’s scene and finding out if there was anywhere good for them to perform there.

  He asked Mip if Puk could come along with him, show the boy some new parts of the world, and she had reluctantly agreed. Her trepidation was young Puk’s first indication that his mother possessed no real affinity for any of his fathers aside from Grut. At that point in time, Doro had not yet drawn her deep disdain—that Puk had noticed, anyway.

  But Puk, around ten years old then, was thrilled to leave his hometown for the first time. He thanked his mother profusely and met Brek at his home a few days later, where he was saddling up a horse he had rented.

  The animal stood easily three times as tall as Puk, who by all accounts was still a mere tadpole, and it intimidated him. But Brek (whose stalk tips still only reached barely past the horse’s belly) patted it on the back—or as close to it as his arm could stretch—and showed his son that there was nothing to be afraid of. It was a gentle beast.

  Once everything was packed up and hitched to the saddle, Brek used a stepstool to help Puk up onto the horse’s back then hopped on himself. As they trotted away from the stool, left behind in front of Brek’s home, Puk asked how they would climb back onto the horse again. His father assured him anywhere they went would be able to accommodate their needs, and so his fears were assuaged once more.

  He wrapped his arms around Brek’s stomach and held tight. The horse picked up its pace once they were out of the marsh, increasing from a trot to a gallop as they came to firmer ground. Puk hadn’t the faintest idea where his father learned to ride, and he was impressed with the control he exerted over the animal.

  The ride had been the most memorable part of the trip. Padstow turned out to be a bit of a dud; it was to the west, a small town without much going on. Plenty of houses, a few shops, a run-down pub without a stage or anything. There was a town square that Brek suspected the troupe might be able to perform in, but he guessed that the townsfolk wouldn’t feel overly generous with their crescents, so he decided they should travel elsewhere.

  But to this day, Puk held fond memories of riding that horse with his father. Laying there in his stiff bed, doped out and watching two horses stand around doing nothing, he yearned to one day learn how to ride by himself.

  His eyestalks came to rest on the mattress and he inhaled deeply. He held his breath for as long as he could, about thirty seconds, then pushed the air out of his mouth with a pop!

  The warmth had since left him, but his body still felt relaxed. Unhurt.

  He was ready for a drink. Or two.

  Puk lifted himself up off the bed with great effort and absentmindedly stuffed the fire-spit pouch into his pocket before leaving the room.

  The staircase was embarrassingly difficult to navigate, requiring him to concentrate on every step he took. But once he found himself on flat ground again, he felt more confident in his gait. He entered the dining area, where he knew Kali would be, and spotted her at a table in the middle of the room.

  He gave her a friendly wave, which she reciprocated, then made his way to the bar, running through the various drink options in his head in an attempt to decide what he was in the mood for. A whiskey? A simple beer? Something with a lot of vodka in it?

  There was an empty barstool in between two people, so Puk slipped in. To his right was a rugged, clean-shaven jeornish man who sat with his arms folded back as if imitating a bird, his elbows resting on the countertop as he faced out toward the rest of the room. On Puk’s left was an elderly faif woman, the swirling yellows and oranges of her skin dulling in her old age. She seemed to be keeping to herself, morosely staring down at the wooden bar as the bartender slid her a layered cocktail that intrigued Puk.

/>   He asked the man behind the counter, “What’s that?” and pointed at the woman’s drink.

  The bartender simply responded with his own point of the finger, gesturing toward a hand-scrawled sign on the bar that described two drink specials the outpost was running for the week.

  The first drink had to be what the woman had ordered. It was a three-layered drink called “Triple Rings.” The bottom layer was coffee liqueur, the middle was a whiskey cream liqueur, and the top was cherry brandy. Puk had never been one for brandy, so he ignored that option.

  The second specialty cocktail was much stranger and piqued his interest. Dubbed the “Kick in the Mud,” it was essentially a combination of spiced rum, chocolate syrup, and hot pepper powder.

  He had never had a chocolate cocktail before, but he sure as hell loved chocolate, so that was what he requested.

  The man on his right laughed at Puk’s order as the bartender got to work.

  “Yes, it’s quite funny,” said Puk.

  The man turned around in his stool to sit properly and began to fiddle with the hat he’d placed on the countertop. “Sorry,” he said, “didn’t mean to mock. Just didn’t figure you for a sweet-tooth when I saw you.”

  “I’m a man of many facets,” Puk said absently, staring straight ahead. “A true gem.”

  The man laughed at this too. He held out a hand and said, “Name’s Gael.”

  Puk accepted the handshake and introduced himself. It was impossible not to notice that Gael was wearing riding gloves.

  “Nice gloves,” said Puk. “Is one of those horses out there yours?”

  “Unfortunately not.” Gael shook his head. “I’ve just got a crummy ayote.”

  Damn. For a second he hoped he had found the horses’ owner and could persuade him to let Puk go out and meet them.

  “Crummy? Don’t get me wrong, I love a good horse, but ain’t pretty much every ayote better at desert travel than a horse?”

  Gael shrugged. “That’s true, sure. But there’s no denying a horse is so much more majestic. And smarter too, I bet. But ayotes are way cheaper out here.”

  “Ah,” Puk nodded. “You’re on a financial expedition.” He paused a moment, fearing he had slurred the last two words. Maybe he’d be written off as drunk, despite only just showing up at the bar. “As am I. Where you goin’?” He kept one eye on Gael, but twisted the other stalk to check the bartender’s progress on his drink.

  “East,” Gael replied. “An airship sunk in the ocean, and I intend to do some treasure hunting.”

  The bartender brought over Puk’s drink, which was poured in a tall, thin-stemmed glass. He felt fancy.

  He intended to join Kali once he’d gotten his drink, but Gael’s quest interested him. “How you gonna do that?” he asked. Centripts were naturally equipped for deep dives in the sea, but jeorns certainly were not.

  Gael grinned, obviously pleased that the question had been asked. Puk could tell the man was a bit of a show-off. He was fairly keyed-in to that type of arrogance, having surrounded himself with performers for so much of his adult life.

  “I’m a black mage,” Gael explained. “I concocted myself a pretty useful spell. Not sure if anyone else has experimented with something like this, but I felt pretty damn clever when I thought it up. I call it an Aero Helmet.”

  He held his gloved hands out in front of himself, palms facing Puk, who was too entranced to taste his drink yet. The mage then closed all of his fingers except his pinkies and swiftly swooped his hands inward toward himself, his pinkies coming together to point in the middle of his chest. He then unraveled his fingers but joined them together while pushing his palms up toward his face, and a miniscule gust of wind blew his hair.

  His hands then fell to his side and he grinned with smug satisfaction.

  Nothing appeared any different to Puk.

  He was about to point this out when he caught the slightest distortion ripple in the air on either side of Gael’s face.

  Then the man spoke, his voice muffled and wavering, as if he was speaking to Puk from underwater. “I know it’s hard to see, but it’s pretty fantastic, right?” He made another fast series of gestures with his hands, then the distortion was gone and his normal voice was restored. “It’s similar to a normal Aero spell, but I figured out a way to shape it to encase my head and create an air bubble I can breathe in while underwater. Tested it out a bunch back at home, and it worked great. I can only get it to last around three hours at a time, though, so I’ll have to work in shifts.”

  Puk was genuinely impressed by the display.

  “Seems like that treasure’s all yours,” he said.

  Gael grinned toothily. “Yep,” he said. “It was actually a buddy of mine’s idea to check out the wreckage. I hadn’t even heard of the ship going down. But he couldn’t figure out a way we’d get down there to it.” He laughed before saying, “I came up with the Aero Helmet on my own, then uh…told him I was going to visit some family in Restick. What he don’t know won’t hurt him.” He shot Puk a conspiratorial wink.

  “Sounds like you’re kind of a dickhead,” said Puk. One of the many effects of the fire-spit was that he often lost any sort of social filter.

  Gael laughed at the jab. People like him always knew they were assholes, and they liked it.

  “Well,” Puk grunted, pushing himself off the stool with his drink in hand, “good luck on your future endeavors.”

  “And you as well,” said Gael.

  Puk sauntered over to the table where Kali sat waiting for him with a curious expression.

  “Make a new friend?” she asked.

  “Not really,” said Puk. “Bit of a fuck, in my opinion.”

  She chuckled. “He’s been staring at me for most of the time I’ve been down here. Real creep.”

  “Sounds about right,” said Puk.

  Kali then took a good look at the dark brown drink he’d placed on the table. “Got yourself a cup of shit?”

  “Woulda been faster, but no,” he answered. “It’s got chocolate and rum and spice.”

  She scrunched her face up at the description. “Is it any good?”

  “I don’t know yet. I keep getting distracted, because I am easily distractible.”

  Even he could tell the words had come out more like “easistractable,” and it was apparent on Kali’s face. She cocked an eyebrow again. No way of fooling her into thinking he was already drunk, especially not after openly admitting he hadn’t tried his drink yet.

  He pushed past the moment in hopes that it’d be soon forgotten. He brought the red powder-rimmed glass to his lips and gulped down some of the thick liquid. The spiciness of the pepper powder danced around the sweetness of the chocolate and warmth of the rum in an unexpectedly pleasant way, with no one flavor profile overpowering another. With another swig, he had already downed half the drink.

  “Good?” Kali asked.

  “Great.”

  “What an odd drink.” She gulped down some water before continuing on. “So, we’ve run into a problem,” she said.

  “Problems is bad,” Puk sputtered stupidly. “What’s the problem?”

  She cast him another suspicious look. He needed to get his act together before she started asking questions.

  But she let it slide for now.

  She went on to explain the situation to him, which was that with their current plan, they’d find themselves stranded in the extreme cold of the desert’s night air after acquiring their cordol eggs the next day.

  “That’s bad,” he said when she was finished, contributing nothing of value to the conversation.

  Kali nodded. “Yes,” she said. “It is bad.”

  Puk’s mind immediately jumped to the horses in the stable.

  “The problem’s just that walking is too slow, right?”

  “Yeah,” Kali said. “But at this point, we can’t rent an ayote anywhere, and we didn’t want to sink any funds into that anyway.”

  Puk shrugged and gulped d
own more of his Kick in the Mud before offering a suggestion. “Let’s ask my new fuck friend,” he said.

  Kali smirked at the implication of the phrase, which had eluded him in his high and inebriated state. She said, “What makes you think the creep can help?”

  “He’s heading all the way to the east coast, so he’s got an ayote. Says it’s a crummy one, but a crummy one’s faster than we are.”

  She pondered it for a moment, taking another drink of water. Even in his current state of mind, Puk knew she was weighing whether it was worth interacting with the guy who’d been gazing at her all evening. He felt guilty for putting her into that position, but it was the only idea he had.

  “Fine,” she said.

  Puk turned around in his chair and saw that Gael was already looking their way, obviously intrigued by his new acquaintance having taken a seat with the pretty faif woman.

  “Gael!” Puk called. “Come take a seat!”

  The man sported his signature grin while he carried his hat with him over to the table. Probably thinks I was talking him up to Kali, Puk thought as the man sat.

  “Hello there. I’m Gael,” he said, extending his hand toward Kali. She took it and meekly introduced herself. “Beautiful name,” he said, withdrawing his hand. “Perfect for such a beautiful woman.”

  Kali rolled her eyes as she downed the last of her water.