by R Mountebank
Chapter 16
Hard decisions
She was having a nightmare. A horrible little goat man was sitting on her chest, prodding her with his gnarled finger nails, clutching her jersey with his grimy little hands. He whispered horrible things in her ear. Horrible things about an evil master that would torture her if she didn't behave. He told her she would become disfigured even more than she already was.
But wait. That wasn't true. She was a normal girl wasn't she?
You are part wolf, part fairy, part fish and only part human, came a cruel voice like her grandfather’s.
Is that normal?
But she looked normal, didn’t she?
Not anymore, whispered the cruel voice.
Mary’s eyes fluttered open. There was a horrid little goat man sitting on her chest. Mary knew him.
"Timberash?"
"Yes! You remember! You must get up, Miss Horn. Our master wants you out of sight immediately. You have slept too long. Too long..."
Mary looked about. She was lying on the floor several meters away from the circular dais in the centre of the store. Guards stood at attention around it, weapons drawn. Several of the men were giving her sour looks. Behind them she could see The Old Man, his head bowed, reading at his desk.
"Up, Miss Horn. You must get up," lisped Timberash, his little hands pulling on Mary’s sleeve.
"Okay. I'm moving."
Groaning, Mary pushed Timberash off her and rolled to her feet. Timberash fell on his back and flailed around like an overturned tortoise, unable to get back on his feet.
"Sorry..." said Mary as she helped him up.
"Oh. That's fine. It happens all the time."
"Really? You get thrown off girls all the time?"
"No!" shrieked Timberash, going red in the face. "I mean I often fall over. I spent two nights under some shelving once..."
"You should really do something about that."
"I have. I've left bedding under some of the trickier shelves."
Mary frowned. Was he serious?
The little man reached up and grabbed her hand and started to lead her away.
They walked towards the main service tunnel at Timberash's scurrying pace. Mary suddenly felt very aware of her current state of hygiene. "Tell me, Timberash, where would I find new clothes and a hot bath?"
Timberash looked up at her, a puzzled look on his face. "Clothes and a hot bath? For you?"
Mary rolled her eyes. "No, for the documentary film I'm making, 'How to Stay Clean in a Monster Infested Dungeon'. Of course it's for me!"
Timberash sucked on his matted beard as he thought. "I can show you to the bath house, but if I were you, which I'm not obviously, I wouldn't take any clothes. Not from him."
"Why not?" asked Mary slowly.
"He adds every expense to your bill. Meals and baths and the like are usually paid off during your day’s work. Extras like clothing or bedding will cost you an arm or a leg or both, especially if you don't specify them in a contract."
"That's absurd!" shouted Mary. "He can't get away with that!"
Timberash shot her a dark look. "You're right. What would I know. I have only worked here since Arthur was a lad. You go ahead and get those new clothes. Maybe hustle up some nice fur-lined mittens and a cape for the cold nights while you're at it."
Mary thought it best to stay quiet after his little outburst and let Timberash guide her through a series of winding tunnels to the bath house.
Steam and the welcome scent of soap announced the baths long before they came into view. After walking down a wide and dimly lit tunnel for a while, the redbrick of the tunnel networks gave way to clean, enamelled white tiles. The tunnel opened up to a large chamber. Warm yellow light radiated from an unseen source up high in the steamy ceiling. The bath house was actually two houses; a china blue tiled partition split the chamber in two, with a larger room for the men and a smaller one for the few women who worked there.
Timberash stopped outside the entrance to the women's section. "Here you are. There are towels and soaps and all kinds of girly things in there. There's even a stash of rocks I hear, to throw at peeping Toms."
Mary raised an eyebrow. "Soap and towels are girly, are they?"
Timberash shrugged. "It's not natural to bath with that kind of stuff. Takes away one’s natural scent."
Mary looked at the filthy little man in his grimy robes.
It must be a long time between drinks for this one.
"And the rocks... are they necessary?"
Timberash shrugged. "Wouldn't be there if they weren't."
Mary peered sceptically into the steamy depths of the baths. Did she really need a shower that badly? She looked down to inspect her dirty hands stained with dungeon filth and the scabrous growths clinging to her sweat suit. In a word: Yes.
She needed two baths.
"Thank you," offered Mary.
Timberash bowed slightly and turned to walk away.
"Um... Timberash, old buddy?"
"Yes, Miss Horn?" he asked looked back over his shoulder.
"You couldn't be a pal and rustle me up some food from the mess, could you? I don't really want to show my face back in there after all the broken teeth and such."
Timberash shrugged his little shoulders. "I live to serve, it seems." He walked off muttering and shaking his head, kicking at imaginary stones with his cloven feet.
Mary walked into the bath house proper, selecting a tub furthest from the partition wall. She filled the wooden tub with hot water and selected a towel before quickly stripping down naked and jumping into the blessed water. She felt herself relax for the first time in what seemed an age. Nobody else was around to yell orders or ogle at her. It was the most time she had spent by herself awake and not locked in a dark cell in days.
She started to scrub her hands and face with soap and a brush. As she worked the soap to a lather, rubbing her hands vigorously over her scalp and through her hair she noticed two peculiar lumps on her head. Both were raised and quite painful to the touch. Had she been hit on the head? Were they bites? Mary could not give them a proper inspection there in the bath, so she decided to look more closely later, when she could get in front of a mirror.
The hot water did its magic, easing her pains and soaking her skin, loosening the tension in mind and body. Unfortunately she couldn’t stay all day. After ten minutes she got out of the tub, and dressed in nothing but a towel, cleaned her clothes as best as she could. She then wrung out her garments and dressed in the still wet clothing. Timberash was waiting for her outside, a simple meal laid out on a tray at his feet. Mary thought she had never been so excited to eat porridge and plain bread before. She had eaten half of the meal before she remembered that she had company.
"Thanks for your help, Timberash. I really appreciate all that you've done for me."
The little man smiled a big buck-toothed grin back at her.
"It's nothing, Miss Horn. Truth is I had nothing better to do. He doesn't like me around the shop when customers are about."
"That's..." Mary struggled to find a fitting word that wasn't offensive. "...unfortunate"
"It doesn't bother me. I wasn't hired for my good looks, you know. None of us were."
"That's for certain," Mary muttered under her breath. "Hey, while you're here, do you mind having a look at my head for me? I've got these two lumps on my head. They hurt like hell and I'm worried I should see a doctor or something."
Timberash motioned for her to come closer. "Lemme have a look."
Mary obliged and let him run his clumsy hands over her scalp, wincing when he bumped one of the lumps. Timberash parted her hair back to get a better look.
"Humph," said the little man as he sucked on his beard. "Just as I thought..."
"What?"
"You're getting your first change. Horns by the looks of things. How fitting, you being a Horn and all."
Mary wrenched her head back, her eyes wide in shock. "Firs
t change? What do you mean my first change?"
Timberash looked at her sadly. "Your first transformation. Didn't you wonder why this shop is peopled by monsters? We all used to look like you."
Mary's mouth worked mutely as words failed her. She pressed her hands to her face and tears began to flow. "You mean I'm going to look like everyone out there?"
Timberash nodded his head slowly. "Yes. Well, not like everyone... we're all a little different from each other after all."
Mary suppressed a scream with her hands. It was added insult to injury. To be a captive amongst monsters was one thing, but to turn into one...
"How? Why?" Mary asked as she gingerly touched her budding horns.
Timberash shuddered and looked at the floor. "It's his magic that does it. Wicked stuff it is... the very dregs of a noble art. Do you know anything about magic, Mary Horn?"
"I didn't know that magic was real until a few days ago. So no, I don't know a thing," said Mary throwing her hands in the air.
Timberash shook his head and sighed. "I'll tell you the basics then. Magic for most people is divided into seven major elements. Fire, earth, water, air, spirit, light and shadow. Most of the magical races have some innate talent regarding one or two of those elements. Your garden variety human, especially those born after the reformation in the afterlife, have no talent whatsoever. Our esteemed leader was once human – plain old boring old human, devoid of the spark needed for the true art. As legend says, he sold his soul to the devil, changing his very spirit and allowing him access to another element. His form of magic is complex... it's made of all the elements and yet it's not. It's chaotic in nature, bordering on the true art yet deviating from all common methods. It's very potent stuff but it is very difficult to control. Does any of that make sense?"
Mary wiped her nose on her sleeve and shook her head.
Timberash clasped his little hands together and bowed his head. "His bad magic is in you. That chaotic, powerful hoodoo is bound to you. It's always active, watching you, reporting back to him when necessary, punishing you with pain. Every day it's in you it changes you just a little bit more. And it doesn't stop. I've seen guys that looked like crocodiles turn into birds or even fishy looking things over the space of a year."
Mary winced and cradled her head in her arms. "Is there anything I can do to stop it? Anything at all?"
Timberash shook his head. "Not really. If you behave and avoid his punishments you might delay it. The only way to stop it completely is to get rid of it, and only he can do that."
Mary got to her feet and started to pace back and forth.
"I can't let that happen. I refuse to let him do that."
Timberash sighed heavily and picked at his teeth and ears.
Mary kept talking to herself. "I need to honour my grandfather’s stupid bargain somehow. He wants Remy or something of an equal value. What does the heir to the throne fetch in price anyhow? And how will I find anything of value or pay my debt working in a kitchen?"
"You don't work in the kitchen. You were fired, remember?" offered Timberash.
Mary gave him a dark look. "Thank you for reminding me."
Timberash yawned and picked up the forgotten tray of food. "Well, if you don't need me anymore I might return to my duties."
Mary waved a hand at him distractedly. Timberash shook his head and started to walk down the dark tunnel. He stopped just before he was out of sight. "You could be one of those treasure hunter types!" he shouted back to her. "They find stuff all the time! It is their job, after all..."
Mary stopped in her tracks.
Could I?
Certain death seemed like a better alternative than permanent disfigurement. At the moment at least. What else was she going to do? Sweep floors or carry boxes? How many floors did one have to sweep in order to buy a prince? Mary’s math may have been a little out but she was pretty sure it was a lot. If only she had paid more attention in those trigonometry lessons. Mary started to walk down the tunnel, head bowed in thought.
Live as a monster or die as girl?
She couldn't decide.
She picked her way slowly to Petri's office, her heart too heavy to walk with any pep. The door was open when she arrived. Petri sat at his desk reading an oversized leather bound book. Taking a deep breath Mary knocked on the door.
"Yes?" asked the quartermaster without looking up.
"Our master told me to see you, sir," said Mary as she fidgeted with the sleeves of her jersey.
"Of course he did," replied Petri, his attention still fixed on the book.
Mary waited for more of an explanation. Petri continued to read.
"Um... he told me that I wasn't wanted in the kitchens anymore."
Petri sighed and closed his book. Leaning back in his chair, he looked at Mary for the first time.
"That's right. You're not wanted anywhere really. Too volatile. Too... unsavoury."
Mary bit back a surge of anger, regulated her breathing. "I was provoked on both occasions. Sir."
"The soldiers provoked you, did they?" chuckled Petri. "I wonder if you earned their scorn for duping them when they brought you here."
"They were harassing me!" burst out Mary. "They pinched and prodded and slapped me all day long."
"And your uncle? Did he harass you too?"
"He was going to hit me," replied Mary hotly. "Was I supposed to let him?"
"Yes," said Petri, slapping the table with his hand. "Do you understand how curses work? Had he hit you, chained and bound as you were, our master would have had a debt over him. The spirits need something to work with: damaged honour, stolen property, murder, and so on. Your violent outburst, however, safely put him out of range for any curse to be effective."
Mary shook her head in disgust. "You would let him beat me just so you could curse him?"
Petri shrugged. "Yes. He's a much more valuable asset than you are."
Mary felt a stab of anger push her towards another transformation.
…Crush the whinging prick…
She took several deep breaths and closed her eyes, mortified by the urges she was feeling. She would overcome these violent outbursts one way or another. "But what about the soldiers?" asked Mary through gritted teeth. "Did I owe them a good groping?"
"Should have come to me or Barnabas. We would have put a stop to it."
Mary raised a hand, ready to argue her point but dropped it upon deeper reflection. She could have asked for help but didn't. It was her fault in part for letting it progress further than it had to; instead, she resolved the issue at their level, with her hands instead of her head. Still, the soldiers and store workers should never have touched her or treated her so appallingly in the first place, and she certainly wasn't going to lose sleep over a few broken bones. Mary gritted her teeth in frustration.
"What do I do now, sir?"
Petri shook his head. "I don't know. You've just about rubbed everyone the wrong way since you've arrived. Kitchens don't want you. Master doesn't want you in the store near the customers or goods. The army would more likely kill you than let you serve... Seems you might be cleaning toilets for the rest of your miserable life."
Mary shuddered.
Live as a monster or die as a girl? Slavery or potential freedom?
Her options were limited and mean. "Is there any possibility I could work off my family’s debt by working here?"
Petri laughed aloud, high pitched and arrogant. "You owe him a kingdom! Do you really think you could pay that off by cleaning loos?" He cackled whilst drumming his cudgel on the desk.
Mary’s throat went dry. "What if I found you something? Something more valuable than a kingdom?"
Petri snorted. "Down a toilet bowl? Do you know Midas or something? Har!" The quartermaster wheezed out a gruff ear-piercing laugh, tears forming in his stone-crusted eyes.
Mary waited for him to quiet down, her patience on a knife edge. Petri's laughter reduced down to a chuckle, him wiping
his nose and eyes on his sleeve.
A deep breath. "What if I worked with those treasure hunters? The adventurers?"
Petri's eyes went wide. He pointed a finger at her. "You? No, no. You wouldn't survive a week with that lot."
Mary placed her hands on her hips, raised her chin. "And why not?"
"It's dangerous out there!" Petri cried. "It's full of magical beasts and mythical heroes. You... you're just a girl." He said that last part like it was an insult.
"A girl that took on the best part of a private army and survived," said Mary through a trademark Horn sneer.
Petri faltered. He slumped in his chair, lips quirked in thought. "Well, I suppose..." He scratched the back of his slimy green head. "I'll have to clear it with him, of course."
"But I could do it? I don't have to be invited or anything?"
Petri shook his head. "No invite or we'd never get new recruits."
"What's stopping every monster and bogie from joining then?"
"You need to have a serious death wish or be very stupid to even want to join..."
Mary nodded primly. "May I go? Sir?"
Petri nodded absently, waved a hand towards the door. Turning on her heel, Mary made to walk out of the office. Petri's words stopped her short though.
"One last thing, Horn. Before you race off and sign up..."
Mary turned her head to look at him. Petri was staring back at her with an odd, calculating look on his face. "Are you prepared to kill for what you want?"
The question shocked Mary. It was something she hadn't considered. Could she take a life?
"I don't know..." she replied meekly. "Probably not. I don't know if I could live with myself afterwards."
Petri couldn't hide his nasty grin. "Just something to think about. Run along now. And give my regards to the Master Thief."
