by Eric Ugland
“Are you, I mean, I don’t exactly know a nice way to ask this, or a polite way I guess, so forgive me if I sound like a jerk, but—“ I started, but Shae cut me off.
“Maybe it is a question you shouldn’t ask then,” she said.
I sighed. She had to be hiding something. That was the only reason she’d get so cagey whenever someone asked about her past. But was it something important? That was the real question. Did it matter if she was human or not, if she was a friend? I suppose if she was some sort of creature that sucked my blood in the middle of the night or was planning on eating me, that might make a slight difference. Or if she feasted on the flesh of children, that could make a difference. But...
“Do you feast on the flesh of children?” I asked.
“That’s the impolite question?”
“Different impolite question. I’m just trying to figure out if you’re human, but I realized it’s more important to know you’re not trying to hurt me or any of the others who’re here.”
“I’m not.”
“Which question are you answering?”
She paused for a moment, then took a deep breath. “Both.”
Chapter Thirty-Four
I wanted to dig into that answer. There was a whole lot there. If she wasn’t human, what was she? Why was she hiding things? There were so many things to ask, so many things to find out, and yet, there was no chance to ask those questions. Just then, the shower shut off, and Lillian burst back through the bathroom door still in the midst of wrapping a towel around her body.
“Holy balls,” she exclaimed, “that is the greatest thing I’ve found anywhere in this world.”
I couldn’t help but chuckle. I was definitely spoiled for bathrooms.
“You’re welcome?” I asked.
“Oh man, thankyouthankyouthankyou,” she said quickly. “That’s the cleanest I’ve felt since I came here. Wait, does she know?”
I nodded.
“Okay then,” Lillian continued, “that’s the cleanest I’ve felt since I came here.”
“I need to sleep,” Shae said. “I don’t know if you are like never-resting-Clyde, but—“
“No, I’m pretty fucking tired,” Lillian said.
“Uh,” I said in my most eloquent voice, “it would seem there are two beds now, so, I guess you guys can have the beds, and I will, um, not.”
That seemed to mollify Shae. She slipped under the blankets before throwing her towel to the side. Then Lillian grabbed her pack, took it into the bathroom, and closed the door.
I could have tried talking to Shae some more, but she was either already asleep or doing an impressive job of feigning it. Instead, I tiptoed over to one of my hidey-holes, and opened it up. It was one of my main document troves. I took out the pack inside, and pulled it onto my back. A few seconds of work, and you couldn’t even tell I’d removed a floorboard. Then, because I didn’t exactly have a place to sleep, I went down a flight of stairs into our third-floor Mimic room.
As soon as I opened the door, I realized something was amiss. The window was open.
Cold air hit me in the face, and my hand went to my belt. I pulled Krakentooth out, ready for action.
The first thing I checked was Hellion the mimic. He was in his normal position, hanging out by the far wall in between the bathroom door and the single dresser that contained towels. The workout area was untouched — nothing out of the ordinary there. I’d run the obstacle course so many times I could even tell that nothing had was out of place. My chalk handprints were still on the rings.
I set the pack down next to the door, shut it behind me, then locked it. I didn’t want whoever was in the room to get out. Unless, of course, the person had already used the window to get out.
Slowly, I advanced, dagger first, toward the window.
Nothing appeared as I crossed the room.
I paused by the window to listen.
Nothing.
Then I looked out the window.
Nothing.
Well, not nothing, but nothing out of the ordinary. The rest of the city was still there. No one was awake, considering it was the middle of the damn night, no one was walking the streets below, but I could hear the general sounds of the city at night. Calls of some night time workers a few streets over. The clack of horse hooves on cobblestones nearby. Even the far off bells of ships in the harbor. But nothing to shed any light on why the window was open.
I shut the window.
In doing so, though, I realized what was missing.
The rest of the windows were all boarded up and blacked out. That was one of the reasons I liked training there as much as I did — there was no chance of anyone watching me. Not that I cared about someone watching me work out, but more like I didn’t want someone to be keeping track of what I was doing. I wanted people who didn’t know me to think that I was sleeping all night every night. Simple things like that. But someone had taken the time to remove the boards. They’d even scraped some of the black paint off the glass. And left the window open. I couldn’t find the boards anywhere, so I guess they’d taken then.
“What the fuck is going on here?” I asked.
There was a quiet eep that sounded out in the room.
I spun around, dagger up again.
“Who’s in here?” I asked.
I heard whispering. A tiny voice was saying something, but I couldn’t make it out.
“Hellion,” I said, “is someone talking to you?”
Hellion, naturally, did not answer. He was a mimic. Who couldn’t talk.
“I’m going crazy,” I said, but that was mainly for whoever was in the room with me. I knew what I’d heard. I knew what I saw. And maybe there was no one in the apartment now, but I knew someone had been there. And only two people had keys to the place. “Nadya?”
No answer.
I walked a little closer to Hellion, and wondered why there weren’t emergency bottles of high-proof alcohol around. Why do something logical and intelligent like that when you could just have a monster kickin’ it and being your buddy? I still wasn’t sure why I’d decided having a monster in the building was a good idea... which was a lie. I remembered why. It had a lot to do with a big smile and nice eyes.
Hellion moved a little, almost like he was getting out of the way of someone.
A tiny head peered out from the side of the chest. Little eyes glinted in the light of the room. And it was a head and eyes I recognized, just a little. At least, there was the feeling I had seen them before.
It was a grimeling.
“Well hello there,” I said, in my most soothing voice, taking a knee so I presented less of a threat to the little monster.
The grimeling took a few steps away from Hellion, then looked back at the large chest.
Hellion, being a chest for the moment, didn’t do anything. But I had the distinct impression of a boost of confidence. Like Hellion was telling the grimeling to go on.
The grimeling, for his part, turned back to me, taking a few more steps, and then held out a very small square of paper.
“Is this for me?” I asked.
The grimeling nodded.
Gently, I reached out.
The grimeling moved back a little, ready to bolt if I did anything untoward. But I kept my hand steady, taking the square of paper from the little guy.
“Thank you,” I said.
The grimeling looked at me, then nodded, and darted back behind the mimic.
I reached into my pouch and pulled out a piece of dried meat, something I liked to keep on me for snacking. I ripped it in half, and held one piece out.
“A small tip for delivering this message,” I said, hoping what I had was, in fact, a message.
The grimeling peered around the mimic, saw the meat, and took a few tentative steps towards me.
I didn’t want to push things, so I set the meat on the ground, and took a few steps back.
“You want the other piece, Hellion?” I asked.
&nbs
p; This wave of yes came from the mimic, although, once again, it was probably just something in my head. I tossed the other half of the meat to Hellion, and it just disappeared into his giant maw. Meanwhile, the grimeling was sitting on the ground, trying to stuff a piece of jerky into his mouth that was as big as him.
“Take smaller bites,” I said. “You’re going to choke.”
The grimeling looked at me, and shoved at the meat harder.
“Suit yourself.”
He started choking.
As fast as I could, I crossed the distance between us and yanked the meat out of his mouth.
He coughed a few times and spit on the floor.
“Told you,” I said, dropping the half-chewed meat on the floor.
Then I left the little monster to his meal, and sat down on the obstacle course with the square of paper.
I unfolded it to its full size. Just a few words were scribbled on it:
The well in the Urchadan Square. Find me. - The Fayden
Well dangit.
In theory, The Fayden was responsible for breaking into my monster room. Possibly. Or somehow he’d gotten the grimeling to do his bidding. Which was crazy. I didn’t know how he’d done that. Or how the grimeling had gotten back inside. Was it the same grimeling as before? And why was it hanging out so well with the mimic? Why hadn’t Hellion eaten the grimeling? So many questions.
No answers.
It seemed like there were never answers.
Balls.
Chapter Thirty-Five
I took a quick peek at the papers in the pack, just to make sure I wasn’t giving Matthew more than he’d asked for. It was a good thing I did, because in amongst the Biscuit’s Union crap I found a small leather pouch with an Imperial seal. Something I had completely forgotten about. I pulled that pouch out of the pack, and slipped it into my pocket. I didn’t want to go through it at that moment, but I knew it was something I’d need to look at eventually. Whatever was inside was likely the Emperor’s final words. Or the previous Emperor. The late Emperor. And probably not his final words, more like his final order.
But, with that removed, everything left in the pack was meant for Matthew, so I delivered the various Biscuit’s Union papers to Matthew’s apartment, opening the door very quietly to set it all inside with a nicely-written note that was pointedly not nailed to his door. Then, I went back to the mimic room, and got in a workout.
I could see the mimic’s little eyes watching me as I went through the course. I couldn’t quite tell if it was curiosity or something else. He wasn’t however, moving. After a few runs through, the grimeling cam out to sit on top of Hellion and watch as well. I did my best to ignore them, but it was a little unnerving to be the entertainment for two monsters. Two monsters that had no reason to interact in the wild, and yet had become something of friends here, in my house.
After a few rounds, I was breathing really hard.
Without thinking, I walked right past Hellion and the grimeling, grabbed a cup, walked back around the duo to the bathroom, where I got a big glass of water.
I drank it down, and realized I was definitely within striking distance. The mimic could easily get his tongue around me, and I had nothing to stop him. I was exhausted and unarmed.
He did nothing. Well, not nothing, he popped an eye into the side nearest me and watched.
I held out the water.
“You want some?” I asked.
The lid opened a little.
I reached out with the cup, and poured water into the mimic’s giant mouth. It was certainly a new experience, feeling the hot breath coming out of something that looked completely like a chest.
Still, he lapped it up.
“More?” I asked.
The mouth stayed open, so I got more water, and poured it in.
And more. And more.
Finally, after about eight or nine cups worth, there was a light belch, and Hellion closed hi his lid.
This sort of routine continued through the night. I worked out. I gave water to the mimic and even put out a little cup for the grimeling, which he promptly spilled everywhere. It would have been cute if it weren’t for the whole being a little monster thing. Also, it meant I kept having to grab towels to mop up.
Then something odd happened. At one point, the grimeling spilled water on the floor, but then he grabbed a nearby towel, and he got into cleaning up the water. And then got into cleaning up in general, using the wet towel to wipe down near everything. Naturally, after this massive exertion, he collapsed onto the top of the mimic, and fell asleep.
Did you know grimelings snore?
I ran out of stamina several times, and then regenerated it with magic until I was out of mana. Finally, as the dawn’s light reached this western part of the city, I got what I’d been working for all night:
Congratulations! Due to hard work, you’ve gained +1 DEX!
And then I took another shower, because I was covered in sweat.
Another fantastic night in Vuldranni.
Chapter Thirty-Six
The Heavy Purse was basically empty. Titus was the only one standing in there.
“A good morning to you,” he said. “Surprised to see you here.”
“Why is that?” I asked, taking a seat on a stool by the bar.
“Seems like you’re more active at night.”
“I have trouble sleeping.”
“Ah, I remember those days.”
“You sleep well now?”
“No. That’s why it’s easy to remember. You want some breakfast?”
I nodded.
“Solid food or this?” he asked, holding up a large mug with something steaming inside.
“What’s that?”
“Blóðmáltíð.”
“I’m, uh, what?”
“It’s a mixture of blood and oats and some other cereal grains.”
“Blood?”
“Cow’s blood, yeah.”
“Is it good?”
“Depends on your definition of good. Tasty? No. Not at all. Filling? Yes. Fast? If you can drink it quickly, it is. Good food if you don’t have time to eat.”
“You’re planning on a busy day?”
He nodded. “Expansion starts today.” He gestured at the wall. “Begone wall!”
“Already?” I asked. “That’s fast.”
“It’s not that hard getting some carpenters to work. I have a feeling it might take a bit longer to get the place actually finished.”
“Are you closing for that time?”
He nodded. “No other way to do it. Open for you guys, though. Feed the family, as it were.”
“You need any coin to get through?”
“Are you offering?”
“I’ve got some extra saved up?”
“That’s mighty kind of you, but so do I. We’ll be fine.”
“There’s an additional mouth to feed today. Maybe longer.”
Titus choked a little on his blóðmáltíð. The dark liquid sprayed out between his clamped lips.
“Come on, kid,” he said, wiping his mouth. “Maybe I do need that extra gold.”
I pulled a coin pouch off my belt, and tossed it onto the counter.
“I was joking about that,” Titus said with a slight sneer.
“It’s fine,” I replied. “There always seems to be a way to get more.”
“You have a way with money that is rather enviable.”
“Luck stat? I’ve been thinking of putting some more points there.”
“That’s a good place for ‘em. Lot of folk think luck is just to be ignored.”
“Do you know anyone who puts all their points in luck?”
“I met someone once, a young man in Donkirk. He was an interesting beggar. I gave him a coin and we chatted for a bit. He told me he’d made a grand mistake. Put all his points he’d ever gotten into luck. And he felt it made things not go his way. That he’d been cursed by the gods for trying to game the system. Plus, he could barely m
ove, having so little strength. And he had trouble remembering things. Trouble moving quickly. I don’t think it’s necessarily a bad move to put points into luck, but I think you’re aiming for trouble if all you do is put points there.”
“Where’s Donkirk?”
“South and east. Rather a grand distance away.”
“What were you doing there?”
“Oh, things. A wide variety of nonsense. That was a lifetime ago.”
“Is the city, I mean, I know I don’t have time for this — I should be eating and getting out of here, but—“
“Donkirk is a gateway city,” Titus said, heading toward the kitchen, but continuing to talk as he disappeared into it. “There are some powerful entities inland, and several unsolved mysteries there. Ruins, legends, treasure, all those things that get young humans and old elves revved up. That’s all.”
He put a large bowl of oatmeal in front of me, a generous dollop of cream sitting center.
I stirred the cream into the oatmeal and took a prodigious bite.
“Easy there, lad,” Titus said. “No hurry when you’re eating.”
“I always feel like there’s too much to do,” I said through a nearly overflowing mouth.
“But there is always time to eat.”
“Is that why you’re drink-eating that blóðmáltíð?”
“Well, I’m busier today. Also I would appreciate it if you just ignored what I did and merely listened to what I said.”
“Noted.”
Titus laughed.
“Still,” I said, “a lot to do.”
“Comes with the territory. Being in charge of an organization such as ours is a challenge, and there is no shortage of things we should do, things we want to do, or things we need to do. If it was easy, everyone would have a guild.”
“Yeah. I guess that’s the truth. Speaking of things to do, do you know where Urchadan Square is?”
“Sure,” he said. “A few blocks south, a few east. You’ll see a big wide-open square there with a well in the middle.”
“That’s what I’m looking for — the well.”
“Beautiful thing, that well. I remember my grandmother telling me that she had to carry all the water for the house by hand from that well as a child.”
