by A. R. Cook
Desert Rain, meanwhile, could not have been more baffled, but she decided not to ask questions at this time. Hopefully, this meant she was going to get to talk to the three Vermin brothers and convince them to ferry her and her friends up north. What Rotter was up to was not what primarily baffled her, either. What baffled her was the faint sound of piano music coming from inside Rotter’s house.
Rotter unlocked the ten locks on his front door from his vast array of keys on a metal hoop, and then entered the house. The inside was deceptively welcoming, furnished like a modest mansion compared to Mac’s hovel. Lanterns lit the rooms, and there was a better flow to the arrangement of furnishings than the entire downtown Bayou. Desert Rain wondered for a moment if Rotter was wealthy enough to have this furniture imported, and if he did, it would have had to been from a Noble City. He disliked “snoots,” but not their merchandise.
“Rotter, is that you?” came a gristly female voice from somewhere in the house.
“Of course it’s-ssck me, woman!” Rotter roared. “Those three worthless-ssck nephews o’ mine around?”
“They’re setting the table. We’re all ready for dinner. We were waiting for you, but you were out too long for us to keep on starving,” was the reply.
“Boys-sssck!” Rotter thundered, stepping into the front room. “Get-tt-tk in here, now!”
A rapid scuffling of feet was heard. It grew louder, and finally two of the three Vermin brothers, the black-furred one and the white-furred one, came stumbling into the room, ultimately falling over each other and landing in a pile at Rotter’s feet. The third one, the brown one, came lolling in, tearing at a piece of cooked meat. He stood next to his two prone brothers, looking at Rotter carelessly. “What?” he asked smugly.
“Goude, Gimch, Gank-kk,” Rotter growled, enunciating each name sharply. “There’s-ssck someone who’d like-kk to have a word with you.” He stepped aside to reveal Desert Rain, who grinned and waved her fingers at them.
The three of them looked blankly at her for a moment. Gank smiled broadly and looked adoringly at her. Goude gave him a kick to the side of the head, but also smiled eagerly at Desert Rain. “Aw, Uncle Rot, you old fox. You can pick ‘em good.”
Desert Rain realized they did not recognize her. It had not been that long since they first met, and she was not exactly forgettable in features—and then she realized her skin-mold was still on. “Silly me,” she said, untying her bandana. “No wonder you boys don’t remember me.”
As soon as the bandana was off and the skin-mold evaporated, the Vermin brothers’ eyes went as wide as full moons. They screamed and flew back against the wall, clumped together in terror.
“DRAGON LADY!” Gank squealed. “DRAGON LADY HUNT US DOWN TO PUNISH US!!”
“We said we were sorry!” Gimch whimpered. “We haven’t scared anybody since! Honest!”
“Don’t turn into a monster and eat us!” Goude pleaded.
Desert Rain sighed. Good gracious, where did they get these bizarre ideas about Hijn?
“Can it, you twits-ssck,” Rotter said, thumping his cane as he walked over to a padded chair to sit. He set himself carefully into the chair, and then looked over Desert Rain’s true form. “I knew you didn’t-tt-tk smell right,” he said. “Dragon lady, eh? I’m ever-so honored,” he said, bowing his head in mock respect.
Desert Rain was about to say that she was tired of being ridiculed, but she was interrupted by that gristly female voice she heard before.
“Now what’s all the commotion in here?” A portly female Vermin, with red-brown fur dappled with light gray, swaggered into the room. She was about as scary-looking as Rotter, or even moreso since she looked big enough to physically take down anyone in the room. She wore a dress made of colorful, multi-patterned patches, with a sash of yellow tied around her waist. Her sour demeanor instantly brightened upon seeing the four guests in her house.
“Oh, Rotter, you brought company for dinner. I wish you’d have told me. But I always make more than enough. Mac, you ol’ lizard! Give Roeda a hug.” Without waiting for a reply from Mac, she went over and gave him a crushing hug, lifting him off the floor. Mac smiled, since he couldn’t speak for all the air being squeezed out of him. Roeda set him down abruptly, causing him to wobble on his feet. She then observed her other guests, not having any apparent reaction to Desert Rain’s odd looks. If she could smell that Chiriku and Gabriel were Nobles like Rotter had, she did not seem to care. “Why, look at all of you. Aren’t you all the nicest-looking strangers I ever saw. Dinner will be done in a few minutes. Why don’t you all have a seat in the parlor until I get the food on the table?”
“The boys-ssck and I have something important to discuss-ssck,” Rotter started to explain.
“Now Rotter, we don’t talk about ‘important’ things at dinner, you know that. Now don’t be a stick in the mud. Take our guests into the parlor, and tell Bee and Lee to come finish setting the table. I will let you know when the meal’s on.” Before Rotter could protest, Roeda shoved everyone with a shooing motion into the adjoining parlor room.
The parlor was a spacious room of rugs, velvet-padded chairs, polished circular tables, a billowy couch, a brick fireplace, and a honky-tonk style piano. Two little Vermin—girls, for they wore dresses—sat at the piano, plinking out simple tunes together. When Rotter entered the parlor, the girls got up and scuttled over to him, hugging him around his legs and greeting their father excitedly. Then they saw the newcomers with him, and the girls curtsied in mechanic fashion. Rotter patted them on their heads and ordered them to go off to finish getting dinner on the table. As soon as they ran off, he strode over and sat down smack in the middle of the couch, his usual perch. Goude, Gank and Gimch lied down on a rug on the other side of the room, and Mac grabbed a chair farthest from the couch. The others picked random seats around the room, and there were plenty to choose from—it seemed odd to think Rotter had all these chairs, since he did not look like the type to entertain much.
There was a long, ackward silence.
“I don’t hear any chatting going on in there,” they all heard Roeda call. Rotter sighed irritably.
“Sooooo,” Desert Rain ventured to break the silence, “You have a very nice place here.”
“It’s-ssck the bottom of the Pond of the Beyond,” Rotter muttered between his teeth.
“You’re telling me,” Goude muttered.
“OUR HOME IN LAND ABLAZE BE NICER,” Gank blurted out. From the laugh Rotter made at this comment, he obviously disagreed.
“Ah, so you three didn’t grow up here. I noticed you don’t have the local dialect,” Desert Rain observed.
“They talk-kk like snoots-ssck, that’s what they do!” Rotter barked. “They come here so they don’t-tt-tk have to live like starving rats-ssck no more, but Bayou Folk-kk ain’t good enough for them. They’re always-ssck sneaking off to run around in snoot-tt-tk territory, as you know,” he added, casting a dark glance to Desert Rain. He threw that gaze over to his nephews. “Which is why they’re in a crock-kk o’ hot water now.”
Gank folded back his ears, fear in his eyes, but Goude waved away Rotter’s comment carelessly. Gimch shrugged, although he did not look as at ease as Goude.
“Boys-ssck,” Rotter continued, standing up, “the lady snoot here tells-ssck me that you went and gave her a scare. That true?”
This was a patronizing question, since Rotter had already seen and heard their reaction when Desert Rain revealed herself. The three of them nodded.
“And you also took-kk food from her, and didn’t-tt-tk pay nothing for it?”
They nodded. Even Goude looked more nervous now.
“That’s-ssck damn shameful!” Rotter growled, “No Vermin goes and acts-ssck undignified, and no Vermin goes taking something without giving back-kk in equal.”
“And you knocked me for talking about-tkk Bayou honor,” Mac commented in a low voice.
“Honor has-ssck got nothing to do with it-tt-tk!” Rotter snapped. “
But we Vermin got our dignity, and we don’t-tt-tk go acting like beggars and ruffians-ssck, not to snoots-ssck, not to anyone!” Rotter stalked towards his nephews, who scooted away from him. “You know what that means, boys-sssck. You better cough up some payback-kk for the girl, I don’t-tt-tk care if it’s in coin or chore. Or I will tan your hides-ssck so fast—”
“Mr. Vermin, it’s not like that stole food from me. I offered it to them. They don’t owe me anything,” Desert Rain insisted.
“We ain’t beggars-ssck,” Rotter snarled. “We don’t need charity. The sooner these idiots-sssck pay you back-kk, the sooner you can be on your merry li’l way.”
Desert Rain thought for a moment. The Vermin brothers did not owe her anything, but this did seem to be an opportunity to get on board their ship, possibly for no fee, since she did not have anything on her in the way of payment—nothing she could part with, anyway.
“Well,” she replied, “I suppose, since you insist on some form of payback, maybe your nephews could ferry me and my friends on their boat, the one you mentioned before?”
“NO WAY!” Gank instantly whined. But then he remembered it was the dragon lady asking, and he snapped his muzzle shut.
Rotter stroked his chin fur, thinking about this request. “You want-tt-tk a boat ride, eh? With my nitwit nephews-ssck? Heck-kk, maybe they can sink it-tt-tk for good this time.” He grinned at the thought, but then he frowned. “How far is it that-tt-tk you want to go, taking my boys-ssck away from home and chores-ssck?”
“Does it matter? I thought this was about regaining your family’s dignity,” Desert Rain replied. “Besides, they might as well get their, or should I say your, money’s worth for that boat. You wouldn’t want it to go to waste, sitting in the dock, right?”
Rotter tapped his fingers on the head of his cane. Eventually, he made a small nod. “Might-tt-tk as well have them doing something right-tt-tk, rather than running off and besmirching the family name. Fine, you got the boat-tt-tk.”
“Hey, don’t we get a say in this?” Goude protested. His answer was a rap of Rotter’s cane on the top of his head.
“Is this boat big enough to transport all of us?” Gabriel asked so abruptly that it half-startled everyone.
Desert Rain looked at Gabriel peculiarly. All of us? “Do you really want to keep going on with us, Gabriel? I think you’ve upheld your promise more than enough.”
Gabriel stared back into her eyes, but there was no hostility in them. “It would not be fulfilling my promise if I let you go on a boat alone with these…boys,” he replied, glancing over at the Vermin brothers. “All we know is that they bought a boat. That does not mean they know how to sail it properly.”
“WE SAIL GOOD!” Gank argued. “WE ONLY CRASHED ONCE!”
“That’s more than anyone should crash a boat,” Gabriel noted. “I have experience with sailing vessels. I was on the crew of several trading ships for the past few years. I can see you safely to your destination, and then we may part ways, if that’s all right with you?” He spoke this last sentence to Desert Rain.
Desert Rain nodded, but somehow she knew, if she was to spend more time with Gabriel, she might not want to part ways when the time came. He had an odd way of growing on people, at least on her.
Gabriel turned back to the Vermin brothers. “I ask again, is your boat big enough for the four of us and you three?”
Goude sat there despondently with crossed arms. Gank wriggled his finger in his ear, digging for earwax. Gimch shook his head at his brothers’ indifference. Even though he was often torn between the stubbornness of Goude, and the anxiousness—and stupidity—of Gank, Gimch took it upon himself every now and then to be the sensible one. “It used to be a spice ship. It’s big enough for all of us,” he replied. “It came stocked with dried food and stuff. Should still be good. The guy who sold it to us said it would last a while.”
“Well, that all sounds-ssck good to me,” Mac said, clasping his hands together. “When are we setting sail?” He had barely finished his statement when the head of Rotter’s cane rammed him under his rib cage, causing him to gasp.
“Trying to run off again?” Rotter growled. “You ain’t going nowhere until you work-kk off your debt-tt-tk to me, boy!”
“Leave the poor lizard alone, Rot,” Roeda came into the room, with her hands on her hips. “You’ve got more than enough. Let a few coins slide for once.”
Rotter curled his lip. “I let-tt-tk a few coins slide here, a few slide there, and before you know it, ev’ryone in the Bayou thinks-sssck ol’ Rotter Vermin is a chump!”
“Mac is a nice boy. And you’re always working him too hard.” She walked over to Mac and patted him on his spiny head. Mac smiled innocently.
“This-ssck don’t concern you, woman—” Rotter seethed.
“The way I see it,” Roeda added, “You owe him a little leeway for that nasty stunt you pulled on him, shutting him up in that ugly, smelly coffin. Poor thing was scared half to death.”
Mac made a puppy-dog face, enjoying the game Roeda was playing with her husband.
Chiriku blurted out a laugh. “You shut Mac in a coffin? You sick creep! I’m sorry I missed that.”
“And he wonders why he loses employees so fast,” commented Goude.
“There’s a one letter difference between ‘Rotter’ and ‘rotten’,” said Gimch, to which the other Vermin laughed.
Rotter pounded his cane on the floor. “As I recall, I’m letting you three stay in my house-ssck outta my good will. Maybe I should send you all packing back-kk to those rat holes-ssck you came from!”
“Now now, let’s-ssck not lose our temper,” Mac said, feeling more confident with Roeda at his side. “I may have a proposition for you that’ll even everything out-ttk.”
Rotter scoffed at him. “This oughta be good. What’ll it be this-ssck time? More ridiculous beverages-ssck?”
“Not at all. You see, you don’t-ttk know why my Gila Gul over there wants-ssck a boat. She wants to go up north to see some friends-ssck of hers, ones that are, shall I say, well-to-do. They own some diamond mines-ssck, and they’ve got so many of the things, they’re practically worthless to them. They always let-tkk my Gila take all she pleases-ssck, and she’s been so kind as to let me meet some of those folk-kk to fund my latest-tkk idea. But I can use my share to pay off my debt-tkk, if you don’t mind the form of payment-tkk.”
“You don’t think-kk I buy that croc-and-toad story for one second, do you?” Rotter replied.
Mac suddenly produced from his pocket an eye-shaped diamond, to which all the Vermins “oohed” and “awed.” Desert Rain recognized the “diamond” right away as an Ahshi crystal, and she clenched her teeth. “Mac…” she started, an edge of anger in her voice.
“It’s all right-tkk, Gila. I know you said I shouldn’t spread the word about your diamond friends-ssck, but nobody here will snitch.” He winked at her.
Desert Rain was not amused. She could not believe Mac had stolen a crystal from the Ahshi, but he probably thought he could get away with it since the Ahshi shared everything.
“Is that for real?” Goude scrambled over, taking the crystal from Mac. He bit it as a test.
“LET ME SEE! LET ME SEE!” Gank squealed.
“Maybe we can meet these diamond people too? We won’t tell a soul,” Gimch promised.
“That’s got to be a fake-kk,” Rotter concluded.
“Nope, no fake-kk. And there’s plenty more where that-tkk came from. Right-tkk, Gila?” Mac turned to Desert Rain, shining his flashy smile.
Desert Rain felt the heat of all eyes in the room watching her. She grinned half-heartedly, and hesitantly nodded. She did not like to lie, but the “diamond” interested the Vermin brothers so much, it solidified the deal. Plus, she did not want to leave Mac behind, having this Rotter man work him to death. She noticed Gabriel shook his head criticizingly at her, but he didn’t say anything. Rotter, however, looked very intrigued.
“Let Mac go
with them, Rot,” Roeda said. “I always wanted one of those diamond necklaces.”
The two little girls appeared from behind their father, tugging at his pant legs. “Us too! Us too!” they bleated.
Rotter huffed, noting the eagerness in his nephews’ and daughters’ eyes, and the impatience in his wife’s. He glared at Mac, who grinned at him. That damned lizard—he always knew he could get Rotter to give in by persuading Roeda and the girls to side with him. Ultimately, knowing he would go insane from his family’s persistent nagging, Rotter sighed and nodded. “Fine. Not-tt-tk like that no-good lizard could ever handle a coffin right-tt-tk anyway.”
“Now no more of this business stuff,” Roeda said, rubbing her hands together. “Who’s ready for a good bowl of wormwort stew?”
The music from the Mudpuddle Oasis could still be heard, carried on the night breeze, all the way to Mac’s house. Desert Rain was being kept awake because of it, or maybe it was that stew she had eaten at the Vermins’ house—it wasn’t settling well in her stomach. She looked around the single room of Mac’s house, lit by moonlight streaming in through the sawed-out windows. Chiriku snoozed on the armchair, warhammer in hand. She was back in Quetzalin form, having kicked off her shoes the second she came in the door. Mac had given up his mattress so Desert Rain could sleep on it, and now he snored away on top of his pile of laundry. Gabriel had cleared a space on the floor to lie down and slept amidst the random clutter peacefully. Desert Rain had offered to share the mattress with him—nothing implied, of course—but Gabriel had politely declined. She could see that he was back in human form by his chin. He must have taken off his hat long enough to break the skin-mold while no one was looking. According to Gothart, once someone broke the skin-mold, the enchantment came off the charmed article of clothing, so Gabriel was able to wear his hat again and not become the otter-man.
