by Robert Bevan
“And would you call a man brave who would do such a thing?”
“Not brave,” said Randy. “More like insane.”
“More like craven! There's naught to be gained by feeding yer cock to a fish but the fleeting respect of those who would see ye feed yer cock to a fish. So one's only motivation for doing so would be fear. Fear of what those arseholes think of you, the rumors they'll spread about you. A fear so great you'd rather sacrifice yer own willy than face it. Can ye conjure in yer mind a finer example of cowardice than that?”
Randy looked at the floor. “No. I'm sorry. I –”
“Bend over, and I'll show ye where you can stuff yer sorries!” The captain sat down, leaned back, and put his worn leather-booted feet up on the table. “But I'll admit to being intrigued as to what business a so-called paladin of the New God has with the Ice Queen of the Frozen Damned.”
Randy pursed his lips, wondering how deep of shit they were getting themselves into. “That's actually the first time I've heard her referred to as such. But like I said, it's my friend who has business with her. Her brother died, and then Basil, my basilisk, ate him. We brought a pile of Basil's... excrement... to the Temple of Life. The cleric there told us the only way to bring my friend's brother back to life would be to retrieve the missing Eye of Rasha, which the Ice Queen apparently has mounted on her scepter.”
“And you think that you and your merry band of come-garglin' scallywags is going to march right up to the Ice Queen, kick her in the box, and swipe her scepter?”
“That's actually more of a plan than what we've come up with so far.”
“Yer all mad.” Captain Longfellow flipped a gold coin with his thumb and caught it in his palm. “I appreciate a touch of madness. Keeps things interesting. I'll take ye as near as the Callista Island chain, but no nearer than that. Perhaps there ye can find someone daft or desperate enough to take ye the rest of the way.”
Randy grinned, his heart refilled with hope. “Thank you, Captain!”
“So that's three passengers, you say? Plus the basilisk, of course.”
“And a wolf.”
“A wolf?”
“Sorry,” said Randy. “It's my friend's Animal Companion. He's generally pretty quiet. So much so that I forgot all about him until just now.”
“Well this is yer last chance to jog yer memory, lad. Don't be showing up on the dock with six kangaroos and a herd of bloody elephants ye forgot to mention.”
Randy nodded. “That's all. I'm sure of it.”
“I'll trust ye to keep the wolf contained in yer quarters. That won't rattle the crew or other passengers up too much anyway. But the basilisk, that we'll have to keep hidden. We'll set sail in two days' time.” He walked along the table until he came to a pile of long scroll tubes. He removed the paper from one and unrolled it on the table, displaying an older map of Cardinia from a time when it was a little less crowded and developed.
“There's an old storm drain at the bottom of the city wall here,” the captain continued, pointing at a spot on the southern wall near the coast. “The bars are loose. You should be able to remove enough of them to squeeze that big bastard through. Once ye're in the tunnels, you'll follow this one all the way up here, where ye'll turn right.” There were no tunnels drawn on the map, but the captain traced his grimy finger along a main avenue and stopped at what appeared to be an only slightly smaller street. It looked like it would be obvious enough to find. “Two of me most trusted men will meet ye here and escort ye to the Maiden's Voyage. It'll cost ye two hundred gold pieces. Make sure you bring it with you then. New God or no New God, I'll not be loading a basilisk on me ship on faith alone.”
Chapter 15
Dave, Captain Righteous, and Bingam attracted stares in each place they entered. They looked neither fun-loving nor wizardly, and the stares were making Dave feel even less so on both fronts. He took a drink from a passing tray, then caught Captain Righteous glowering at him like he was boiling his own mother.
“What?”
“I thought you might take this assignment a little more seriously.”
“You need to loosen up, man,” said Dave. “Have you not noticed that we're being gawked at everywhere we go? Mordred will see us coming a mile away.”
Captain Righteous frowned at all the people having fun around him. “We do seem to stand out. Very well. One drink each.” He took two drinks from a tray and glared at Bingam as he passed one to him. “Small sips.”
“Yes, Uncle,” said Bingam, timidly accepting his pink drink.
Whatever family issues Bingam and Righteous had were their business, Dave wouldn't be told how much of this slightly alcoholic Gatorade he was allowed to drink. He was a dwarf, and this stuff would have zero effect on him.
As much as they stood out, they at least had the advantage, or so Dave hoped, of Mordred not knowing that they had escaped from their cages. Mordred, on the other hand, would be at a disadvantage. He was a halfling, which would make it easier for him to hide in most circumstances. But in the current circumstances, he wouldn't know there was anyone he should be hiding from. Plus, halflings were few and far between here, which made those few stand out more, especially if one was looking for them.
“Excuse me,” said Captain Righteous, gripping a purple-robed man with severe black eyebrows by the shoulder. “We're looking for a red-robed halfling.”
“I've seen nothing of the sort,” said the man, annoyed at having been grabbed by the shoulder, but once he gave Captain Righteous a good look up and down, his expression mellowed. “But there are live nude gnomes across the street. I can take you there if you like.”
“That will not be necessary.” Captain Righteous released the man and took more than a little sip from his drink. “Such decadence and debauchery will be the ruin of our society.”
Dave considered saying something about not being so uptight, but he chose instead to just ignore the captain and drink. Scanning the room for another floating drink tray, something caught his gaze and held it. An old man sitting alone at one of the black granite tables outside on the patio.
Black and white forked beard. Why does that seem somehow... Murkwort!
Dave grabbed Captain Righteous's arm.
“Unhand me at once, dwarf!”
Dave glared at him but let go. “Stop calling attention to yourself and look at what I've found.” He turned around.
“What are we looking at?” asked the captain. “The sad old man with the black and white beard?”
“Yes.”
“Is that Mordred?”
“No, but he's the last person known to have been in possession of the magic dice. Katherine's friend lifted them off Frank and must have sold them to Murkwort.”
Captain Righteous raised his eyebrows. “Katherine's friend?”
“Murkwort said he was coming here to make some big score.”
“Why is he alone? Has the transaction perhaps not yet taken place?”
Dave shrugged. “Who knows? He could be waiting for Mordred to show up right now!” He looked around nervously, but didn't spot anyone who jumped out as obviously Mordred.
Captain Righteous stroked his mustache. “Would this Murkwort recognize you?”
“I doubt it. I only met him once, very briefly, and he seems really self-absorbed.”
“We should move in closer,” said the captain, gulping back the rest of his drink. “If this Mordred person and these dice are as powerful as you seem to believe, we should seize this opportunity to keep them apart.” He frowned at Bingam, who was holding a pink drink in each hand.
“I saw you were almost finished, so I got you another one.” Bingam handed a skeptical-looking Captain Righteous one of his drinks.
Dave swigged back the rest of his drink, then swapped an empty glass for a full one. Together, they passed under the large stucco archway to the patio to keep a closer eye on Murkwort and discuss their next course of action.
It was less crowded outside, with most of th
e wizards preferring to be closer to the music. Dave was relieved to be in more open air with less noise, and he suspected Captain Righteous felt the same way.
Bingam gazed longingly back inside at all the rich and successful young people leading interesting lives full of women, magic, and free booze. This was as close to being a part of that world as he would ever get. At least that's how Dave interpreted his expression. Bingam might have been diligently looking for a halfling in red robes, or another floating drink tray. But Dave got a strong vibe of hopeless inadequacy in Bingam's piggy eyes.
It was the same vibe he'd picked up from Murkwort at Arby's. Murkwort had been so eager to impress Goosewaddle, so thirsty for just a taste of genuine respect. But this place, the Crescent Shadow, wasn't like strolling in on your old college roommate while he's struggling to run his shitty fast food restaurant and showing off some new magical knickknacks you recently picked up. The people here had truly made something of themselves. He'd tried to use just the fact that he was going here to impress Goosewaddle. He might be able to sell some dice here, but he wasn't going to impress anyone. That was their in.
“We need to go talk to him,” said Dave.
Captain Righteous nodded. “Very well. I thought it might come to that. What information are we trying to extract from him?”
“Nothing specific. Whatever he wants to tell us. But remember. Everything he says is amazing.”
Captain Righteous frowned as he eyed the eccentric wizard. “Perhaps you are easily impressed. I have my doubts. Look at his beard. Someone who is genuinely interesting needs not try so hard to call attention to themselves. It reeks of desperation.”
“Yes!” said Dave. “That's what I'm talking about. We need to feed that desperation. Keep him talking and drinking. You get where I'm going with this?”
Bingam nodded enthusiastically and gulped down some of his drink.
“Thoughtless as this plan seems, it is better than more inaction. Lead the way, dwarf.”
Dave thought for a moment until he came up with an icebreaker, then headed to Murkwort's table.
“Excuse me, sir.”
Murkwort, lost in thought, jumped when Dave interrupted him. He furrowed his bushy black and white eyebrows at Dave, then peered up at Captain Righteous and Bingam.
“What's the matter? Am I in some kind of trouble? Have I not as much a right to sit at this table as any other wizard here?”
“Ha ha!” said Dave. “Heck yeah, you do! I just... Are you Murkwort the Magnificent?” He wasn't sure if the 'the Magnificent' part was overplaying it, but he'd committed to the role and it slipped out of his mouth.
“Is that what people are... I mean, yes! Yes, I am!”
The Magnificent thing had paid off. Dave was fairly certain that no one had ever called him that, and the fact that he lapped it up so readily was evidence that either he believed it might be true or, more likely, he'd simply take what recognition he could get.
Dave nudged Captain Righteous. “I told you it was him!”
“Yes, um... You were correct,” said Captain Righteous. “It was wrong of me to doubt you.”
Dave turned back to Murkwort. “My brother saw you perform amazing feats of magic once. He described you to our village. I recognized you by your beard.”
Murkwort stroked the forks of his beard with both hands. “The duality of light and shadow, sun and moon, life and death.”
“Whoa!” Dave nudged Captain Righteous again. “That's so profound!”
“Indeed,” said the captain, not really selling it. “Profound.”
Dave patted around his armor. “I wish I had something for you to sign. Won't the guys at the pub be impressed when I tell them I actually had a conversation with Murkwort the Magnificent!”
Murkwort raised one eyebrow and gave Dave a slight grin and a sideways glance. “Might they be even more impressed if you told them you had a drink with Murkwort the Magnificent?”
“No way,” said Dave. “I couldn't possibly waste your time. I'm just grateful to have –”
“Nonsense! I insist you all sit at my table and have a drink, lest rumor spread that Murkwort the Magnificent is anything but gracious and humble before his admirers.” He thrust a hand out dramatically, causing Bingam to jump and yelp. A serving tray which had been collecting empty glasses on the other side of the patio changed course and flew toward their table. Moving his fingers in a wavelike pattern, he turned his wrist down, then brought it back up. A shiny platinum coin had appeared in his hand.
Bingam clapped excitedly. Dave had to hand it to him, he was really selling the fake enthusiasm. Dave and Captain Righteous joined in the clapping, but neither could bring themselves to match Bingam's effort.
“Special drinks for my special guests,” said Murkwort as he placed the coin on the tray, which zoomed back inside.
Over the next couple of hours, Dave, Captain Righteous, and Bingam listened to Murkwort talk about himself, his opinions on magic, his personal contributions to the Great Library of Cardinia, and how young wizards might as well practice sorcery for all the effort they put into the craft. His ability to talk constantly for such a length of time seemed magical to Dave. He only paused once to shake his head at one of the big lights flying above them as it sailed off the edge of the island, then used that as an example of how young people are ruining everything.
Bingam sucked back drinks as fast as he could, hanging on Murkwort's every word. Captain Righteous continued to nurse his first drink, drumming his fingers against the side of the black granite block he was sitting on. His boredom and impatience were beginning to show. Dave feared he might lose his patience altogether and say or do something to jeopardize the tiny and fleeting advantage they currently had, so he decided to say something less potentially damaging instead.
“Do you have any special magic items?” It may have been the lamest question anyone had ever asked a wizard in the history of this imaginary world, but it was the best Dave could come up with.
“Do I ever!” said Murkwort. He didn't seem at all put off by the lameness of Dave's question. He leaned in and whispered, “Would you like to see some?”
Bingam grinned and nodded.
Captain Righteous snapped out of his bored annoyance. “I would be most intrigued.”
Murkwort stood and offered his right hand to Captain Righteous and his left hand to Bingam. “Join hands, my friends, and I shall show you wonders the likes of which you've never seen.”
“Um, okay,” said Dave as he, Bingam, and Captain Righteous hesitantly held hands with each other and Murkwort. “Are we, like, saying a prayer first?”
Murkwort grinned down at him. “Home.”
The next thing he knew, Dave was in total darkness. He, Captain Righteous, and Bingam, still holding hands, fell on their asses. Their granite chairs had disappeared from under them.
They were in a circular room with wooden floors and stone walls lined with shelves filled with leather-bound tomes. The four windows were open, but it was as dark outside as it was inside. They must have either traveled through time or, more likely, time zones.
“Where are we?” demanded Captain Righteous, hopping up to one knee and reaching out into the empty air in front of him. Bingam stayed on his back, but also groped at the air with his hands and feet. Dave remembered that he was the only one of them who could see in the dark.
“Lights!” said Murkwort. Torches along the walls came alive with a woosh of flame, illuminating the room. “Welcome to my home!”
Dave went to one of the windows and looked outside. They were in something like a tower. Not a tower exactly, as Dave could see the roof just above him and they were only about thirty feet off the ground. More like a three-story cylindrical house designed to look like a tower. It was one of a group of neighboring tower-houses in a city. A little ways away, the familiar uneven spires of the Cardinian royal palace twinkled against the black sky.
“Are we in Cardinia?” he asked Murkwort.
“Indeed, we are.”
Dave didn't have any great love for Cardinia, but he was overwhelmed with relief to be off of that flying island.
“Have you been here before?” asked Murkwort.
“I, um...” Dave panicked, remembering that he was supposed to be some dwarven country bumpkin awestruck by meeting a famous wizard. “I'm from... Hillstown.” Oh my God, I've killed us all.
“Oh yes!” said Murkwort, gliding toward Bingam, who was staring at something on a workbench. It looked like an old mummified hand attached to a chain. “Look at this!”
Dave relaxed, remembering that Murkwort truly didn't give a shit about anybody but Murkwort.
Thrusting his hand forward dramatically, as he'd done with the drink tray, Murkwort telekinetically lifted the hand off the workbench. He pulled it through the air to his open palm, then slipped the chain over his head, letting the corpse hand hang down from his neck.
“This ancient mystical artifact, all that remains of a once powerful elven wizard, grants me the power to move physical objects using only my mind.” To demonstrate, he pointed at a book on a desk across the room. The front cover opened, and the pages began to turn.
Dave was pretty sure that was a Zero-Level wizard spell, but he pretended to be impressed and clapped with what he hoped was an appropriate level of enthusiasm. Captain Righteous followed his lead, but less convincingly.
Bingam frowned thoughtfully. “Isn't that the same spell you used to bring the hand to you?”
Murkwort's big grin at Dave and Captain Righteous's applause faltered. “Well, yes. But to move the book pages, I used the hand rather than a spell.”
“But if you know how to do the spell, then wouldn't it be easier to just do that? Plus, you wouldn't have to wear a dead elf's hand around your neck.”
Murkwort narrowed his eyes at Bingam. “It's not only meant for wizards. Anyone could use this.”
Bingam's eyes lit up. “Ooh! Can I try?”
“No.” Murkwort's tone was curt, and now he was pouting. He'd been insulted in his own home by someone who was meant to be worshiping him.
