Now they are laughing out loud.
“What?”
Wiping tears from his eye, Royce coughs a bit before he says, “You’re with the Rejects? Zlata must hate you! I've heard of those three; they are the only ones who have stuck around. If the Watch wants to get rid of someone, they send them down to the Rejects, and after a couple of weeks, they quit.”
Bertude passes me another drink. “On the house. You will need it!”
This is pissing me off. First because of Zlata, now these two. “Come on, it might not be that bad. Besides, I am only there for a couple of days.” Being flushed out of a job is not one of my fondest feelings. “Listen, you two, I will take that drink, but ... but ...”
They both laugh at me; well, let’s assume that.
Royce stops laughing long enough to say, “Don't worry, son, it’s not like this will be your brilliant career. Just a little joke, don’t be angry. Like you said, two or three days and money in the bank.” While I sit there fuming, Royce scratches his full beard, and I am struck by the thought that everyone can grow a better beard than me. Damn it!
“If you do a good job, it should either open up a position on a party or maybe another solo job. Just keep up the good work.”
Bertude hands me a third drink. “Just be smart, Solo. Try not to do anything too stupid, and what Royce said will happen.”
A bell rings. At last, my breakfast! “Here you go, enjoy!”
This looks good. Quick down the gullet, need to be at the barracks pretty soon. What time did they want me in? Mela, Jara, Jenell! I did not even ask. Possibly running late; best first day ever. At least I have all my equipment and that tabard Gunnar gave me. Should have washed it a bit more last night; still has the faintest aroma of wet dog that is not pleasant.
Wave goodbye to Bertude and Royce.
Barracks Road here I come. I wonder, does the mess hall have a street named after it or even the Hall? Hall Road or The Hall Road? Hmm, has a ring to it. I know that the Hall has been here nearly as long as this town; second oldest in Favinonia. Why doesn't it have a street named after it? Market Lane is off the main bazaar and is where most prime businesses are located. Coin Street leads to the bank and noble section, which the Hall is on. Corner of Market and Coin. Well, that does make sense. Funny that.
Hope this is an easy day; not in the mood for hard work. The three ales—or was it four? Doesn't matter—left me feeling a little tipsy, but I had worked in this condition before and no one noticed. One thing I like about being in this state is I have superb perception of all the pretty ladies. A small smile from me and they just swoon. Most, I think, avoid eye contact because they are so turned on by such an attractive man. Here come a couple of lovely women. Wink and say, “Good morning, beautiful.”
A small giggle as they walk past. Still got it! Now, just a little strut and change it up with a click-point-wink. Yeah, baby, you so want this. Maybe I should put in a chin tip too. Hang on there, you sexy beast, don't want them to faint. Pull back, make them want more. This will be the last one. She a biggun, but I like. Click-point-wink, chin tip, and then, “How you doin’, beautiful?”
“What are you doing, Solo?”
What? Who? Is that—? By Jara’s hammer!
“You are thirty minutes late! Patrol, remember? And where is your tabard?”
Shake it off. The last person I want my charms to affect is Stillwater. “Sorry, ma’am, I could not remember the time we were starting.” Laughing a little to myself. “Won't happen again. Was investigating the case files I showed you yesterday.”
Let’s hope this works; cannot tell her I have been drinking.
Gunnar is laughing his head off. WayWocket is just staring off into the distance, smiling.
“Fine, what did you learn?”
“Headed down to the dock and warehouse districts. Did a little snooping.” Think, think. And here is a rabbit out of my hat. “The other places, which could be, um.” What would be the most secure place in this town? “Oh yeah, the grain mills. They have similar locks and protocols as the other three places.”
All three look at me. What? Are they stunned? “Is something wrong?”
Stillwater coughs and says, “Gunnar, why don't you discuss this while we head down to our patrol area.”
We form up rank. I put on my tabard, turn to Gunnar, and ask, “What is this about?”
He looks around and then back at me. “I went snooping around last night too, to see if there could be a link between these three robberies and murders like you suggested. The only one I found was the grain mills.” Did I pull that out of my arse convincingly or what? Well, that is what I was hoping, but that it’s true too—wow! “I’m surprised that you went off on your own and … well, yeah, good work.”
“What can I say, that is what I do. I do not half-arse around.” That was close. Way to go, brain! “Are we heading down there now?”
Gunnar replied, “No, we still have to complete the patrol. It would be best to go down there at night; that’s the usual time these things happen.”
“Stillwater, what is the patrol route?” I ask.
She looks at me and replies, “Residential and craftsmen sections. Not much happens there during the day, except for the occasional pickpocket. After that, we'll head down to the warehouse district and have a look.”
This will be a dull day, but I will have a payday from it.
“Solo, because you are new and have had little training, follow our lead and try not to stumble into trouble.”
“Sure thing, boss. I assume non-lethal is the recommended course of action?”
“Yes, lethal force is only a last resort. Gunnar and WayWocket have special skills that would make most encounters a moot point. Your main job is to stay out of the way!”
Wow, I feel like a bit of a waste of space. Just remember: slips!
I step back in line next to Gunnar and ask, “Hey, Gunnar, what can you do that is so special?”
He replies, “I have some powers over nature; I can cause the vegetation to grow and entangle a criminal. WayWocket can do a similar thing—”
And here is some crazy talk from WayWocket. “You see, yes, see. With a simple mixture, with some special ingredients, I make a gooey, sticky mixture, see?”
What is that in his hand? Is he going to throw it at me? He is! That crazy Gnome is going to throw some concoction at me! I start to jump out of the way as Gunnar grabs his arm mid-throw and says, “Not now, you fool!” He turns back to me. “Sorry about that. He gets a bit excited when he leaves the basement. Wants to show off all his toys.”
WayWocket pipes in, “How will he understand if he doesn't see it first hand? To truly see the path, you need to walk it, so—” He rips his hand out of Gunnar’s grip and throws the concoction at me.
This is me browning my pants. Diving away, the flask does not even come close to me. It hits a barrel behind me with a flash of light! As my eyes clear from the bright flash, I see that a massive gooey mess has engulfed the barrel. “See, see! WayWocket added something new—a flash, a flare. This will help! Joan won't let WayWocket add acid, flame, or even better, explosives, so an exploding light will have to do!”
Looking around, I see people blinking and freaking out. Think fast! “Wow, WayWocket, I thought we were going to keep a lid on that!” Charm, do not leave me now. “Sorry, everyone! We are practising for a Watch talent show. That was going to be the big finale, but my friend here had to go and spoil it.” As I bow to the crowd. “Thank you for Watch-ing. Hope to see you there!”
A few people laugh and a few more clap at either my display or WayWocket's. Then everyone goes back to their day.
Stillwater grabs my arm and whispers, “Thanks for that, but next time give me a heads-up before you spout off some bull, okay?”
Gunnar is talking sternly to WayWocket and smacks him gently on the back of the head.
“Yes, boss. I will try to do that from now on. I am used to thinking on my feet, so sometimes I
just quickly react. Besides, I think we could really win that imaginary talent show.” I wink at her.
She raises an eyebrow, and her shoulder and arms swell. Wow, she has some big muscles. They are really bunching up. Is she going to hit me?
“Sorry, boss, I was just trying to be funny. Maybe we should leave this spot. Too many eyes looking our way now.”
“You’re right, we have this patrol to do. Fall in. Let’s do this!
How to describe a patrol? I have one word: boring. Walking, and walking some more. It seems that Stillwater is well-respected by most of the citizens of this town. Shaking hands and making small talk. At least I can complain to the others about the naming of the streets.
“Hey, Gunnar, why do you think they called Apartment Street, Apartment Street?” Does not even glance in my direction. “Is it because of all the housing here? Or because that is Apartment One?”
He looks at me with a glare. “Who cares! Apartment Street, or Housing Street, or bloody I-Plant-My-Arse-Here Street. Keep your eyes and ears on the job, not some tripe to stop you from being bored.”
“Sorry, just wanted to lighten the mood. Stillwater is talking to people, but they are ignoring us. What gives?”
“Stillwater grew up in this town. Most people know her. Every time we leave for a patrol, she makes sure to go and see if they need anything, or if they require us to investigate. That’s the reason why we do what we do, but you wouldn't know because you are a mercenary—just a paid John.”
I look at him and begin to understand why he dislikes me so much. “I am here to do a job, yes. I am outside help. So?” Take back your words, Gunnar! “I served my time and paid my dues in the army, but this was the only job that a solo Adventurer could do safely. So, I am here.”
“See, that’s my point. After these three days, where will you be? I’ll tell you—not here!” Stillwater looks over. I can see a vein popping on her forehead.
She approaches us and in a hushed tone asks, “What are you two arguing about? I could hear you all the way over there! We are here to serve and protect, not squabble with each other. Now shut it, fall in line, and just keep your eyes open!”
Gunnar’s face is flushed. He salutes and says, “Sorry, boss, I was teaching this one—” points a filthy thumb my way “—the reason why we are out here. Don't worry, I’ll keep it quiet. Sorry, it got a bit heated.”
She looks at me. I continue from Gunnar's statement, “Yeah. Sorry, boss. You know how new I am at all this. Gunnar was pointing out how important this area is to you. I did not realise beforehand.”
“Fine. But if I hear you both in some heated argument again, I will make sure you both know my displeasure!”
She turns back around with a smile on her face. Wow, that is impressive that a member of the Watch cares. All the ones I have met, including Zlata, have been built-up bully boys. Nearly a gang unto themselves. This makes me fill me with hope.
Gunnar gives me the stink eye and says, “You’re lucky this time. Fall back in line and watch WayWocket's back.” Well, that hopeful feeling is gone. Thanks, Gunnar.
“Sure thing, Gunnar. I was about to suggest that.”
As I move back behind WayWocket, he looks at me with a sincere expression and says, “Don't worry about those two.” What the—! He is speaking to me like a normal person. “It's hard to be accepted by them. Stillwater is very serious, and Gunnar is very passionate about pleasing Stillwater. Don't look at me like that, youngling! Gunnar treats her only with the utmost respect because she saved him from where he was.”
I shake my head. “No, no, that look is not about Gunnar and Stillwater. It is just, no offence, but you are speaking… well, normally.”
“I partake in various interesting concoctions. It was made very clear to me that my lab will be destroyed if I am ever off in the clouds while out on patrol. So yes, I can speak 'normally', but I prefer to be spacey so fellows like yourself will underestimate me. It appears the last concoction was quite potent.”
“Well, you were spacey earlier today, but you seem a lot more clear-headed now.”
“Yes, see, I take this.” He holds up a stoppered flask, shakes it a bit. “This keeps my mind clear so I can focus while on patrol. I have to keep sipping. If not, I slip back into, as you say, my 'spacey' self.”
Before I can ask more questions, I see Gunnar and Stillwater run off towards Blacksmith Street. WayWocket turns to me. “Come on, they have spotted something!”
Huh, I guess this part of the patrol is running. Hurry, hurry. After a bit, I feel like I need to get fitter. It has been a while since I was in the army; without all that marching, I am getting a little soft! Round the corner of Blacksmith and Lodgings. Lodgings Road? Come on! Let's change it up with at least First or Second Street; it is plain, but it works. I have seen it in other cities and towns.
Now I can smell it—smoke. Not good honest chimney smoke. This has all the little nasty smells, from rugs and curtains among other things. Well, that is not going to help me find my breath. As we turn the last corner, I see it. A whole apartment building is up in flames. Oh no, please don’t be—
I look around and then at the number. I am worrying about nothing; Pela’s apartment is on the other side of the residential area.
I hear something off in the distance: “Solo! What are you doing? Get over here and help!”
I shake off my mental fog and see the others helping people out of the ground floor, across the street to safety. All of a sudden, I hear a small cry. It is coming from one of the stories with smoke pouring out of the windows. It sounds like a little child. I start moving towards the building, my feet are moving while I am in some strange state.
In the distance, I feel someone grab my arm. I think they are saying something about their daughter. All of a sudden, I am running up some stairs that are warm beneath my boots and creak alarmingly. I think I can hear Stillwater yelling something at me.
What am I doing?
As I make it to the second stairwell, I can feel the heat pouring off the walls. I just keep running; my feet and body seem to know what they are doing, even if my mind is still outside on the footpath.
I do not even remember climbing the third and fourth floor, and the cries have become more and more audible, even above the crackling of the inferno and the wind that howls with a sound like lost souls.
Hang on—flames! Where am I? Why did I run in here? Then the cry has me moving again before I can think. Stay down that is what I have been taught. And move fast. That beam does not look good. Jump, you idiot! It nearly falls on me, and I hear the floorboards crack when I land and roll to my feet.
I run around the corner and see a little blonde girl holding a stuffed teddy, surrounded by flames. Coughing into my sleeve, I rush towards her. She is crying, but her cheeks are red and dry from the intense heat. I grab her and croak out, “Don’t worry, I have you now.” I wrap her in my cloak, which luckily is not on fire yet.
Picking her up, I turn to see my return path disappear with a roaring sound as the floor falls in. How do I get down now? Think, think! I am five floors up. I track from side to side, seeing no escape as the firestorm moves toward the two of us. As I back into the wall, the impact does not make the dull thump of plaster on brick, but a crystal chime of glass. A window!
I guess I do not have much choice but to jump through the window. If I angle my body, I can save the child. I guess this is it; the end of my story. At least I can do one decent thing—save an innocent child.
Lucky me, I know what I am doing now. She is still crying; good, still breathing. The glass will not affect her with my cloak.
All I have to take is one small step and—
Chapter Eleven
Journal Entry One continued…
This event was my first taste of being a real hero, like my own heroes, the Travellers of the Road. That little girl’s family semi-adopted me, and I will always love her mum’s stew. Sometimes I take the gang with me, and we have a good, pea
ceful night …
No splat. No heaven, hanging out with angelic beauties. Just foam. Foam all around me. I can hear the girl crying still, so at least I protected her. And now it is hardening around me, great! Being a smudge on the ground was one thing, but being suffocated is not a better option.
What is that sound? Sounds like—I do not know what that sounds like. It is like the sound of chopping into wet timber, mixed with tearing paper. I mean, lots of thick paper. And it is like someone has an axe, cutting and tearing. The weird things that you hear before you die.
I am an idiot. I could have just stood there, all stupid-like, staring at the fire, pointing out funny things to the other people around to cheer them up. But no. I had to run in and try to be a bloody hero. Stupidest person in all of Favinonia! I cannot believe that my body started to move. I guess my brain is the real coward in all of this. That is right, body, listen to the mind next time and you won’t be slowly dying, stuck in foam.
This is what it must feel like to float in a giant mug of beer. Mmm, beer! Hope they have beer in heaven.
I can still feel the child’s heart beating rapidly. I bet you, kid, that it was WayWocket's twisted mind that made this beer foam thingy. And I bet he did not think once, ‘But how do I get them out of there after they get stuck?’
There it is again, cracking and ripping. It seems closer. It must be the sound of death. Oh well, really need a breath right now, or have I been breathing fine all this time? Hang on, breathe in, breathe out. Even though this foam is hardening, I can still breathe. WayWocket, you genius!
Breathe in and out steadily. I cannot believe I did not notice, I guess this can be added to my list of stupid moments; that list is acquiring more entries than I would like.
There is that sound again. Is it becoming brighter in here? Just go back to thinking of beer, and maybe Pela. What was in that booze last night? It rocked me something fierce.
“Are you all right?”
Lake Merrin Page 9
