by Deck Davis
“You can only see a griefer if you’ve been present when death has visited someone with great violence. Murderers see them. The griefers hang around them like a bad smell, haunting them. Almost like a conscience, a living stain that reminds them what they’ve done.”
“Then how can you see it?”
Cason sucked in his cheeks for a second, as if he was thinking. Then he shook his head. “You don’t want to hear my tale, lad.”
“I kinda do.”
“Well I don’t want to tell it. Some things are best left buried. What about you? You don’t look the type to have killed someone.”
“I haven’t. I…”
“Then you saw someone die. That’s the only other way.”
Jake’s head began to throb. He looked at the griefer as it stood by the door and scratched its black ears. When he gazed at it, it felt like someone was shaking his mind. Memories begin to loosen. He heard a faint scream. Blood curdling, horrible. He heard smashing glass. He remembered a stormy night, and the raindrops pelting his bedroom window. His parents…
No. I won’t think about it. He shook his head, straightened his shoulders, and turned away so that he couldn’t see the griefer.
“Can you get rid of it?” he said.
“You can kill it, but it’ll come back bigger. Best just to ignore it, lad.”
Jake sighed. It was late, he was exhausted, and he wanted nothing more than to go to bed and sink into a long dream about Louise from the Rum Drum Bar. Still, the day had been a good one. He might have messed up on a potion or two, but he was getting somewhere. Screw sleep; he was going to celebrate.
“Pass me some of that moonshine,” he said.
Cason grinned and handed him the vial. “Spoken like a true, honest to goodness, drunk. You’re the apple of my eye Jake, you little troll-brained ape.”
Faei arrived back from her hunt soon after. She made a grand entrance holding a string of dead weasels. Light pulsated through her hair.
“Don’t worry,” she announced, “I’ve saved you pathetic sacks of imp waste from starving for another night!”
And with that, Jake and Cason drained the moonshine and beat their brains into submission. Cason told his individual blend of crude jokes, and Faei tried to one-up him by telling some of her own. Cason won in the end, since his advantage in years meant he’d picked up more dirty stories than a gossiping brothel owner. By the end, they were all laughing like lunatics.
After most of the vial was gone, Cason turned to Jake and looked at him with eyes so out of focus that Jake was surprised he could actually see.
“Listen,” say Cason, “’Cos I’ll only say this once, and then my words will vanish into the ether and up the Fire God’s orange rump.”
“I’m all ears.”
“You did well today, lad. Not great, not even good, but well. And you know what? Maybe I made this moonshine too strong, but I’ll say this. I quite like teaching you.”
“Thought you weren’t a teacher?’” said Jake.
Cason looked at the roof. “Oops, there my words go. Up into the ether. Now pass me the vial, you damned hogger.”
Jake was a little perplexed at the sudden emotional outburst. “Thanks,” he said.
Much later, when the sky had darkened and the nocturnal predators had begun to roam the fields, Jake started thinking about sleep. Cason had already made his decision, after collapsing from his chair and hitting the floor face-first. Jake folded his coat and put it under Cason’s head, and then walked toward his bed in the corner of the room.
He’d barely closed his eyes, when there were three loud bangs on the hut door.
Cason bolted upright in an instant. Faei leapt out of bed and grabbed her bow.
“Can’t be good,” Cason slurred.
He tried to stand up, failed, and was successful on his second attempt.
“Banging on a bastard’s door at this time of night. Jake, my boy, fetch daddy’s blade.”
Chapter Eleven
Cason stumbled over to the door, stopping himself from falling over only by steadying himself on a chair. Recovering what little drunken poise he had left, he opened the door. The sky outside was dark and brooding, and spatters of rain flew in.
There was a man stood in the doorway. Without invitation, he pushed passed Cason until he was in the hut. He gave himself a shake as if he was a dog, splashing Jake and Faei with rain from his fur coat.
Cason slammed the door. Jake was a little worried about what the old alchemist would do in the face of the intrusion. He wasn’t the sort of man you disturbed in the middle of the night.
Jake stood up. He was ready to intervene if necessary. If Cason started a fight with this guy, he was sure to lose. Jake was gonna have to stop him getting hurt.
Cason spread his arms out wide. A big grin spread across his face.
“Thotl!” he said, beaming.
“You know this guy?” asked Faei.
“Know him? We once spent a week stuck in the winter forests together. Had to share the same sleeping quilt for body heat. This is Thotl! Here, Jake, bring your picture box thing that your always talking about. Take one of us.”
He meant the camera, Jake knew. Cason had asked him what it was, and he’d spent an hour trying to explain it to him. The funny thing was, as much as Cason kept asking questions about it as if he’d never seen one before, Jake was sure that he was acting a little. Maybe playing a bit dumber, or drunker, than he actually was.
Thotl wore a smile that seemed like it was stuck on his face; he never let it drop for an instant. He looked thuggish and well built, like he’d have no trouble popping a football with one squeeze of his hand. Despite that, Thotl had a smile so infectious that Jake couldn’t help grinning back at him.
“Good to see you, old friend,” Thotl said, patting Cason on the shoulder. “Thotl…thought I’d left that name behind. Knew there was a reason I stopped inviting you to parties.”
“His real name’s Benny,” said Cason.
“So why’d they call you Thotl?” asked Faei.
Cason walked over to the counter and started rattling around his vials. Jake didn’t need to ask him to know that he was fixing a drink. It didn’t seem to matter what time of day or night it was; not even a bowel movement could be marked without alcohol.
“A long while back,” said Cason, speaking over his shoulder, “I was short of gonils. Back then, I didn’t have the fine moral compass that I live by today. I worked for a guy named Isaac Shackleton. A horrible, horrible man.”
“I’ve heard of that guy. They say he steals babies,” said Faei.
“Yeah, you’ve probably heard a lot about him after the Cunjo village massacre. They say he’s in a dungeon so far underground even the worms can’t reach him. Course, he wasn’t so bad, back then. As far as I know he only stole one baby. The rest were bought fair and square.”
“Oh…that’s okay then,” said Jake. “As long as he only stole one.”
“I don’t know how it works where you’re from, you de-generate gusset sniffer, but things are different here. A lot of families, when they have a third or fourth child, look to sell them on. Just a way of life.”
Thotl settled into a chair. Raindrops dripped from the hood of his fur coat. His skin was a healthy pink. True to form, the smile hadn’t left his face. He radiated a sense of calm.
“Where’s the lad from?” he asked, looking at Jake.
“Just up north,” said Cason.
Cason looked away. It was for a millisecond, and his expression barely changed, but Jake caught it. Interesting; he’s lying about where I’m from.
“Anyway,” said Cason, changing the subject, “Me and Thotl were never involved in the baby side of things. I brewed potions and Thotl was just a brute. Muscle meat, there to beat the crap out of anyone who trespassed on the Isaac’s land.”
Thotl shook his head. “Cason likes to joke I have no brains because I’m a bloody great lug and have this thick accent, but I wasn’t t
here to smash skulls. Isaac had me working in the archive room transcribing some of the old tomes. Not many people have learned Ongresh, the language of the old ones.”
“Wanna know why I call him Thotl and not Benny?” asked Cason.
“The young lass and lad don’t care about that.”
Faei chewed her lip. She did that sometimes, and it transfixed Jake when she did. There was something so enthralling about it. He had to stop himself staring.
“I would like to know why he calls you Thotl actually,” she said.
“Yeah,” agreed Jake.
Thotl sighed. “Tell ‘em then, you decaying old goat.”
“As much as my smiling friend here says he was an archivist for Isaac, and that’s mostly true, his size meant he did end up bruising a few people for Isaac, too.”
“There’s nothing special about being able to punch a man in the face,” said Thotl.
“I knew how much he hated it,” carried on Cason, “So I started calling him Henchman. Then, when he got mad, I’d go further and call him Third Henchman on the Left. Eventually I got bored of saying it, but it was funny to see how much it pissed him off, so I shortened it to Thotl. Then the other lads started using it, and it stuck.”
“So, you mean like in street theatre, yeah? Ya know, there’s always a baddie and he always has a couple of mean-looking thugs with him. No offense, Benny,” said Faei.
“None taken, lass. Might as well call me Thotl. Every other bugger does. Even my mum calls me Thotl, these days. Now come on, pass me that drink.”
Thotl seemed like the kind of guy who’d travelled quite a lot, and Jake decided that he needed to ask him about portals. Who knew, maybe he would have seen one some place. Jake found it hard to believe he was the only one who’d ever entered this world through a portal.
“Thotl,” he said. “I was just wondering if you’d seen any porta-”
Cason elbowed him in the side, cutting him off mid-sentence.
Jake glared at him. What was his problem?
“Anyway,” he said. “I was wondering if-”
Cason stood up. “We need drinks. Let’s have a toast!”
He turned to the counter and grabbed a few vials, before pouring each of them a drink in glass beakers. Each of the beakers bore marks from alchemy. Faei’s beaker of water had a black scorch mark on the outside, while Thotl’s was tinted blue. Cason handed Jake a drink.
He held it to his nose. Man, this batch smelled strong. He was building something of a tolerance to Cason’s brews, but this one smelled like it’d knock out an elephant.
“To old friends,” said Cason, raising his glass.
“Think I could just have a water?” asked Thotl.
“Water? God’s man, you want water??”
“I gave up drinking, Cason. Mother isn’t getting any younger, and it wouldn’t do for me to be blind drunk if she needed help in the night. And I can’t enjoy a single drink; once I start, nothing’s stopping me. You know that. That meant moderation was out, so I just gave up. Probably time you did too. Your liver is probably as shriveled as a raisin.”
“Benny Bullen drinking rain,” said Cason. “Never thought I’d see the day. Here you go,” he said, and handed Benny a ceramic jug.
Thotl sniffed the jug, as if he was suspicious that Cason might not have filled it with water. Satisfied, he raised it up. As he did, Jake saw a long, stringy cobweb on the sleeve of his coat. Thotl didn’t seem to mind it.
“To old bloody friends,” said Thotl.
They drank. When Jake tipped his back, it burned his throat. He held it in, forcing himself not to cough. Cason was probably trying to show him up, trying to make it look like he couldn’t handle his drink. He swallowed it all down.
As the liquid ran down his throat, it began to feel cold. No, not just cold, but freezing.
What the hell? The beaker hadn’t been cold.
He opened his mouth to ask what was going on, but when he did, he found that he couldn’t talk. He imagined the words in his head, but when he tried to say them, they seem to vanish from his tongue.
Status gained: Mute
He stood up. His chest felt tight; it was almost a claustrophobic feeling, not being able to talk. Like he was locked inside his own head.
He walked over to Cason, stumbling into a chair. Cason gave him a strange look.
Talk, damn it! Say the words!
They just wouldn’t come. He prodded Cason, who batted him away with his hand.
The old bastard had poisoned him! But with what, exactly? What was in the drink? He lurched over to the counter and looked at Cason’s vials. Why didn’t he label the damn things? How was Jake supposed to know what Cason had given him?
More importantly, why wasn’t anyone doing anything? Even Faei was ignoring him.
He needed something to write with, but Cason didn’t keep any paper or pens or damn quills in the shack. For some stupid reason, he didn’t trust writing things down. ‘Write something down and you can never scrub it out,’ he once said, when Jake wanted to take notes as he watched him work.
Anger burned his cheeks. Whatever Cason had done, Jake would make him fix it. And if the old git wasn’t going to talk, he’d just have to do something else.
He turned around. He was so mad that he could feel himself gritting his teeth, but couldn’t stop.
As Thotl and Faei watched, Jake marched over to Cason. He raised his fist and socked him so hard in the mouth that he fell back off his chair.
Chapter Twelve
Man, that felt great.
It was a good punch. Surprisingly good, actually, but then, Jake had been in more than a couple of fights growing up. Cason seemed to be well-practiced too, because he got to his feet faster than a boxer trying to beat a ten count.
Thotl sat back and clapped. Laughter lines spread across his face as he watched Cason getting up, though he didn’t make much noise when he laughed.
“Good thump, son! I’ve been wanting to do that to Cason for years.”
“Fine, you bloody big baby,” said Cason.
He turned to the counter and grabbed a vial. Since none were labelled, he must have known what each contained by the appearance of the various liquids. This was impressive, since some of them looked exactly the same.
“Drink up,” he said.
Jake snatched the vial off him and smelled it. It was a sour, grape-like aroma, like wine uncorked and left to turn. He saw them all watching him; Cason rubbing his head, Thotl still shaking with silent laughter, and Faei disinterested.
He held the vial out to Cason to say, ‘you drink some first.’ The alchemist grabbed it off him and took a swig, swallowing it with an exaggerated gulp.
“Happy?”
Jake shrugged. He drank back the mixture. While the mute potion had been quiet, its antidote was hot, and it slid down his throat like warm treacle.
He looked at Cason. Okay, time to test out my voice.
“Asshole,” he said.
Hmm. A bit croaky, but it worked. A punch and an insult weren’t enough to deal with Cason, he decided, but he’d sort that later.
“Does someone want to tell me what this charade is all about?” asked Thotl. “Or is this what you get up to for fun around here? I know there’s not much else to do.”
Cason sighed. He rested his chin in his hand as if he was about to nap. “Tell him, then. Go on, ask him. It’s your funeral.”
“Ask me what?”
“Thotl,” said Jake, “Have you seen any portals on your travels?”
“Portals?”
“Rectangular, blue, usually appear in a particularly troublesome place in the sky. Sometimes potatoes fly out of them.”
“Okay, I understand. There’s a reason Cason tried to stop you asking me that, lad, but you weren’t to know. One of them portals opened near my house a few years back, and some fellas came out. They had shaved heads and wore these long robes with red symbols on ‘em. Burned down my ma’s house. I managed to get her o
ut, but my dog Spelch got trapped.”
Damn. Something about injured dog stories always got to Jake. It was stupid, really. He could read ten stories about humans in trouble, but it’d be the one dog story that got to him. What did that say about him?
“I’m sorry. I wouldn’t have asked if I’d known.”
Thotl nodded. He hefted his giant jug of water up to his mouth and started drinking. His Adam’s apple moved back and forth as he took large gulps, and Jake watched in amazement as he drained it all in one go.
