by Robert Bevan
“Knobby?”
“Come on. Don't start that again. She's been through some shit.”
Stacy thought for a moment. Her gaze flickered to an overturned table in the corner. Then she peered up into Cooper's eyes and gave his hand a squeeze before letting go. “Sorry. I meant no offense. But we are short on time. Let us make haste.”
“Make haste? I thought you wanted to –”
“Hurry! We must escape!”
“Okay, okay. I'm going already.”
Cooper led the way down the stairs. When he reached the bottom and turned toward the front entrance, Stacy grabbed his wrist.
“They may be waiting to ambush us,” she whispered. “We can escape through the cellar.” She took the lead, guiding Cooper around the back of the staircase where she opened a door to reveal another staircase, this one leading down into the dark.
“How do you know so much about this place?” asked Cooper as he started down the stairs, breathing in the even staler and mustier air.
“I've been here once before, with my elf friend.”
“Elf friend? You mean Julian?”
“That is correct.”
After Stacy closed the cellar door, Cooper heard a snapping sound behind him, and the whole earthen-walled stairwell was flooded with light. He glanced back to find her holding a glowing stick.
“Where did you get that?”
“I always carry one,” said Stacy. “I cannot see in the dark as your kind can.”
“My kind?”
“Stop dawdling and hurry down the stairs, lest they follow our scents. The Rat Bastards are notorious trackers.”
Cooper did as he was told. Anyone with a talent for following scents wouldn't need many ranks in the Tracking skill to follow his.
The corridor at the bottom of the stairwell went ahead straight, tunneling far beyond the front of the building. Open doorways lined both sides.
“Hide in here,” said Stacy as they came to the first of the doorways.
Cooper turned right sharply and found himself on the threshold of a dead end room about the size of a large walk-in closet. He didn't want to be critical. She was the rogue, after all. But he'd played some hide-and-go-seek in his time, and surveyed this at once as in the top tier of shittiest places to hide that he could imagine. Not only were there no exits in the room, but there wasn't even anything to hide behind. Unless he could pass himself off as an unlikely statue, a simple glance would be more than sufficient to spot him.
“I don't mean to question your judgment, but I can't help but feel this is kind of a shitty place to hide.”
“Have no fear, sweet Cooper. There is an illusory barrier that you can see out of, but those on the outside cannot see into.”
That made some sense. It wasn't foolproof, but it was better than nothing. Maybe their pursuers would glance into the room, see nothing, then keep moving. He and Stacy could make a break for it and book it back up the stairs and out of this shitty neighborhood.
Cooper took a couple of steps into the room before his foot went through the floor. The rest of him followed, and twenty feet later he landed hard on a very real earthen floor.
“Fuck,” said Cooper as he rolled onto his back and rubbed the pain out of his face. When he opened his eyes, he saw that most of the floor above him was translucent, like a hologram or something. Only the part of the floor which supported his first couple of steps was solid and real.
When he'd shaken off the shock of landing on his face, Cooper appreciated the greater complexity of Stacy's hiding place.
“It's the perfect ambush,” he said, looking up at Stacy. She was smirking down at him through the illusory floor. “When they come looking for us, they'll fall through the floor. Then we can jump them and beat the shit out of them.” He held his arms up to her. “Jump down. I'll catch you.”
“I have a better idea,” said Stacy. “Why don't you wait in there alone until I have a use for you?”
Cooper considered the proposal. On the surface, it didn't seem beneficial to either of them. Then again, she had a better head for strategy than he did.
Stacy backed out of sight, but the sphere of light from the stick she carried didn't travel too far. She might be waiting in the doorway or something. After half a minute of standing alone in a dark pit, Cooper began to feel that something was amiss. Some idle chatter might still the disquiet within him.
“Did you manage to Gather any useful Information?” he asked, mostly to reassure himself that Stacy was still up there.
“Not yet,” Stacy's voice replied. Then she continued in another woman's voice. “Hopefully that will change when my men arrive with your little friend.”
Cooper didn't know what she was talking about or why she was using that voice. He felt under his loincloth to make sure he still had his dick.
Something is wrong. That is not your friend.
Satisfied that his junk was still attached, Cooper couldn't help but chuckle at Nabi's misunderstanding.
“Not really my friend,” he explained. “That's just a fill-in for my dick.”
Stacy's head reappeared over the hole. She was now disguised as a half-elf, and kind of a homely one at that. “You vile, disgusting beast!”
Cooper laughed. “If you're going to criticize, you could have at least chosen a prettier face for yourself.”
Stacy and Nabi gasped simultaneously as tears welled up in Stacy's eyes.
“I know not why such a strong, beautiful, and talented woman would ever choose to associate with the likes of you.”
Cooper could only assume she was talking about Nabi. He shrugged. “She's an object. She needs somebody to handle her.”
Cooper! Stop talking!
“She should thank me for what I'm going to do to you.”
Feeling simultaneously uneasy and aroused, Cooper heeded Nabi's advice. Unable to express his feelings verbally, he farted. It was long and pungent, echoing off the earthen walls of the small chamber he occupied, filling the musty air with his own brand.
Stacy grimaced and backed away from the hole, which was just as well because Cooper's dong was starting to form a bulge in the front of his loincloth.
Though he could no longer see her, Cooper could hear Stacy's sniffles and sobs. Had things gone south between her and Julian? Is that why she was coming on so strong? Cooper didn't want to be a revenge fuck, especially not when his best friend was the revengee. Rubbing one out to her would be okay though. It would reduce the temptation when she actually threw herself at him.
“Nabi,” he whispered. “Can you, like, turn yourself off for a minute or something?”
Cooper, you must listen to me. That woman up there is not –
The door at the top of the stairs creaked open loudly, and heavy footsteps began thumping down the stairs. At least two pairs of boots. Maybe three.
“Shit.”
In addition to his jackoff session being interrupted before he'd even had a chance to get properly started, Stacy was still sobbing as if she wasn't aware that wererats were approaching.
“Stacy!” Cooper whispered as loudly as he could. “They're coming. Handle your shit!”
Stacy sniffed back her snot and stopped crying.
“Dolazar!” said one of the men a few seconds later. “Are you okay? Did the half-orc harm you?”
“I am fine,” said Stacy in the voice she'd most recently taken to speaking in. “It made some cruel and insensitive remarks at my expense.”
“Pay no heed to the barbs of some cretinous half-orc.”
“Hey,” said Cooper. “I can hear you guys, you know.”
“Would it make you feel better if Jarrol and I urinated on it?” asked the man.
“Thank you, sweet Simion. But I fear that would only improve its smell.”
That stung, but Cooper was nevertheless grateful for Stacy running interference on that one.
“What have you to report?” asked Stacy. Cooper was impressed with how effortlessly she played
the part of this Dolazar chick and assumed command of the situation.
“Renford and Wickworth are banged up pretty badly, but with some rest and a bath, they should pull through.”
“And Kepler?”
“We discovered his body tossed in an alley with a massive axe wound in the chest.”
“That would be this one's doing,” said Stacy. “He has an axe on his person, and has even claimed responsibility for the Collapsed Sewer Massacre.”
“Has he?” said Simion. “Capturing him should curry us favor with the other sub-guilds. We may be able to strengthen our alliances.”
“It gets better.”
“Oh?”
“The girl was asking questions about the halfling.”
“You don't mean...”
“Yes. That halfling.”
“If she could lead us to him...”
“The bloodshed between guilds and factions can be brought to a swift end, and we will be the ones responsible for restoring peace among the guilds.”
“We might even procure some of those mysterious weapons.”
“Yes, that thought had also crossed my mind,” said Stacy. “Of course, we would utilize them more subtly.”
“Of course.”
“Sweet Simion. Do you still find me attractive?”
“More than ever, Dolazar. Shall I take you now, here against these bare earthen walls?”
Stacy was going off the rails, more desperate for any dick she could get than Dave's mom. Cooper had to at least try to intervene. He had to be subtle, so as not to give away her identity.
He cleared his throat. “Ahem. Julian. Ahem.”
“Would it excite you even more if I were to take the form of... I don't know... the human girl?” She had either not taken his meaning, or she just didn't give a fuck.
“Not at all. I would sooner copulate with a diseased bugbear than this filthy whore.”
The sound of palm slapping against face was so loud that even Cooper could feel the sting.
“Speak not such disrespect!” said Stacy. “You have no idea what emotional abuse she has suffered at the hands of this monster!”
“I apologize!” said Simion, whose face was probably hurting as badly as his balls right about now. “I had no idea.”
“You have ruined the mood. I shall have to pleasure myself in private.”
Someone farther away cleared his throat. “The girl is getting heavy. What shall we do with her in the meantime?”
“Drop her in a hole farther down the corridor,” Stacy said bitterly. “I shall want to interrogate them individually.”
As the sounds of footsteps faded away, Cooper thought about how skillfully Stacy had played her role, but wondered who was the mysterious new girl they'd been talking about.
Nabi sighed inside Cooper's head.
Sit down, shut up, and let me explain.
Chapter 7
“I'm sorry my brother killed you,” said Katherine, holding up her side of the Bag of Holding. Tanner walked alongside her, holding up the other side of the bag to allow fresh air to flow into it.
“I do not hold you accountable for your brother's actions.” He smiled, but his eyes lacked their usual self-confident shine. “I appreciate the trouble you went through to have me resurrected.”
That made Katherine feel guilty, thinking back to what Denise had blurted out at the Whore's Head Inn. She didn't deserve his appreciation. She glanced back to make sure the rest of her new “crew” was trailing far enough behind so they couldn't overhear her, then turned back to Tanner. “You and I both know I only did all that to rescue Tim. If I'd known it was you, I don't know if I would have...” Now she felt annoyed for feeling guilty. Why should she be expected to risk her life for a guy she'd only known for a couple of weeks? “I mean, if the tables were turned, would you have done all that to bring me back?”
Tanner laughed. “Certainly not.”
Katherine glared at him. “You could have at least hesitated.”
“I'm sorry. I thought we were speaking in earnest.”
“It's fine. I'm just saying you don't owe me anything. You've got your life back. Don't feel like you have to keep following me around if you – Shit!” Katherine reached into the Bag of Holding. “Carbon dioxide!” The bag exhaled a breath of stale warm air.
Tanner's nose twitched at the smell.
“I do not follow you out of a sense of obligation,” he said. “You fascinate me, and I wish to learn more about you and where you come from, and carbon dioxide. Do you think it would be safe for me to visit your world someday?”
Katherine shrugged. “I don't see why not.”
“Would they kill or imprison me for being a different race?”
“No way!” said Katherine. “I mean, probably not. We've come a long way in the past few decades. Your people can even vote now.”
Tanner looked at her quizzically. “Half-elves?”
“Oh!” Katherine scrambled for a response that wouldn't make her sound stupid. “Yes.”
“Your brother said all races on your world had been eradicated, and only humans remained.”
Katherine frowned. “I don't think that's what he said. It's possible you filled in some gaps on your own.”
“Did he not say your world was entirely peopled by humans?”
“Yes, that's right.”
“Then what happened to the other races?”
“There never were any other races. People in my world don't even know what a half-elf is. Well, except for nerds.”
“Nerds?” said Tanner. “Is this how you refer to the scholars of your world?”
Katherine thought it over for a moment, then shrugged. “Yes.”
“I would love to converse with some of these nerds.”
Katherine glanced back at Frank and the Whore's Head gang. “You're about to have all the opportunity you could ever dream of.” She reached into the Bag of Holding. “Carbon dioxide.”
The streetlamps were fewer and farther between as they left the busier part of the city and passed the more ramshackle shops and grubby-looking restaurants that catered mainly to fishermen and dockworkers. The air was heavy with mingling aromas coming from them. Some were pleasant, others less so. For a second, she thought she caught a whiff of fried chicken.
“You mentioned before that my people can vote,” said Tanner. “What does that mean, exactly, and how is it possible if there are no –”
“Hey, look!” said Katherine. “There's the harbor.”
A forest of masts bobbed on the water beyond Cardinia's western gate. Katherine had forgotten about the salty smell of the sea air, and hoped that Mordred wouldn't be tipped off by it.
The few dwarves from the Whore's Head Inn were slowing down the rest of the group, but that was okay. Katherine had to report to the harbormaster anyway.
She and Tanner walked up to the harbormaster's office, a rickety old wooden building that looked at least twenty years overdue to collapse into the sea. The tide was high, and every wave that crashed against the rocky shore sprayed back on the slippery boards leading to the rusty-hinged door.
Katherine hoped to deal with the same half-orc she'd reported to when she sailed into port. He'd been very friendly and easygoing, and would probably recognize her, which would speed the process along.
Unfortunately, the elf behind the counter seemed neither friendly nor easygoing, especially as he sneered at Tanner.
Katherine cleared her throat to draw his attention her way. “My name is Katherine. I'm captain of Nightwind.”
He looked down his nose at her. “You don't look like a ship's captain.”
“And you don't look like an asshole, but you sure as shit sound like one. What do you think? Do I sound like a fucking ship's captain?”
Butterbean barked and snarled at him.
The harbormaster flinched in spite of the counter that stood between him and Butterbean, then looked at Katherine. “As a matter of fact, you do.”
Katherine reached into the Bag of Holding. “Captain's hat.” She pulled on the triangular hat she'd inherited from Captain Martinoli along with the ship and slapped it down on her head. “Satisfied?”
The harbormaster turned around and flipped through some files. “Neptune, Net Worth, Nightcrawler, Nightshade... Ah, here we are. Nightwind.” He turned back to Katherine and held the paper out in front of him. His gaze shifted between her and the paper a few times, then he returned it to the file.
“I apologize, Captain.”
“It's cool.”
“Will you be departing tonight?”
“Yeah.”
“And what is your cargo?”
“No cargo,” said Katherine. “Just me and my first mate here.” She slapped Tanner on the back, then nodded back toward the door. “And my crew.”
The harbormaster looked doubtfully out the window at the slowly approaching crew, then peered down at the Bag of Holding which Tanner was still holding conspicuously open. “And in the bag?”
“What are you, retarded?” said Katherine. “He's holding it wide open. You can see it's empty.”
He shot her a snooty scowl. “The bag has been open and empty this entire time, and yet you pulled a hat out of it.”
Shit. “That was just a –”
“I know a Bag of Holding when I see one, Captain.”
“Okay, fine. It's a Bag of Holding. But I swear there's nothing of interest in it. Just some of my old junk.”
“I'm afraid you shall have to accompany me to the inspection room and empty your bag.”
“Oh, come on! I don't have time for this shit!”
Butterbean growled at the harbormaster, who flinched again.
“Now, Captain Katherine,” said Tanner. “We should do what the man says. No one is above the law, after all.”
Katherine gave him a tight-lipped glare. She needed solidarity from him. What the hell was he up to? Did he have a plan? Or was he secretly pissed at her for Tim slitting his throat, and this was his revenge?
He winked at her, which gave her some reassurance. Now that she thought about it, Tanner was a clever guy. If he was seeking vengeance, ratting her out to a harbormaster was beneath his talents and creativity.
“Fine,” said Katherine. “Let's go to the inspection room.”
