Chapter 70: Ch: 62 You Otter Know

Ch: 62 You Otter Know

Shining brown hair and quick, sparkling, dark eyes made his pulse quicken whenever she locked gazes with him. She was a predator through and through. Her whiskers twitched in amusement at his involuntary response.

“We find you equally distressing, human. Primates are not generally friendly with us, your kind least of all.” 

 

Streeka, seer of the otter clan of the waters was formidable despite her small stature. Two curved bronze knives hung at her narrow shoulders, on a ray skin harness and collar sewn with bright glass beads.  

With quick, sure paws, she dealt the cards onto duke Belen’s tea table. Her staccato chant flowing in a constant chatter, while his scribe recorded in the corner.

 

“I see the ten of swords, shredded and reformed in the image of the moon, mirrored twice against itself… the hermit has drawn the two of cups and walks in the company of the lovers. The high priestess and the hierophant dance under a pair of alien moons while ours taps its toes in time.”

The prince of wands landed on the table. “I see you, duke of men. This crosses you.”  With a deft flick, she placed a card at the feet of the prince. “The fool, inverted, not all is as it seems, or perhaps little is as it would appear.”

 

Another card landed. “Strength is about to tame her lion, only to learn that it was hers all along. The tower, the very foundations of what we know may tumble down… will she pull the temple down onto her own shoulders?” 

The devil fell onto the table almost of its own volition, followed by the magician. “A dead man deals the cards, scattering them far and wide, he knows not what he does, guided by instinct and rage.”

 

 Two more cards spun from her claws, landing in rapid succession. “The hanged man is the fool, while the tree of life buds out of season.” 

She gasped to a halt, shaken and gripping a cup of tea for dear life. “The spirits are agitated, our own patron says that a thing unremembered since before mortal reckoning is walking the land, bearing raw chaos.” 

 

“What thing is this? Do you know? My own pantheon is in an uproar, Order refuses to elaborate, while War insists that others will solve domestic trifles and I should concentrate on our work.” He grumbled. “My domestic troubles are annoying enough, though hardly germane here, go on, honored seer.”

 

She nodded and drew another card. “The seven of coins, a work of craft, well begun and growing well. The ten of coins, something comes into fruit out of season again, this time by a deliberate working of will, mind and magic.” Her deft claws dipped into a pouch at her throat, carrying a tiny clot of white pollen to her nose. In the corner of the tent, the scribe’s pen stopped scratching, as he slumped to his lap desk, insensate.

“Someone is working to fulfill some schemes or plots of their own, how this relates I cannot say.” She turned another card.

“Temperance, not a card you find familiar, my lord. You must learn her grace before you can win free of this knot. You will be challenged, how you respond may change all, for good or ill.” She paused for a bare moment.

“The penultimate card, we see the next step. Please witness your grace… I draw.”  Her claws flicked again, tossing the balanced scales of justice to the growing pile.

“I felt this one would tell the tale. Look close, lord of men and see what is hidden.” She leaned over the table, her nose twitching mere inches from his.

“Men may not see with ease, what you must learn, my apologies, my lord, for this.” Her tail lashed out, quick as a striking serpent, burying a tiny needle in his neck.

#

 

“Sorry Tawny, there isn’t anyone I can trust my kids with. If Shai won’t stay, they come along, this is just a milk run anyway. They are just using my sweet, magic booty to transport supplies. We’re faster together anyway, I can’t help chasing those bells!” He sprinted ahead, while Tallum rode the Mystery Machine with the kids. 

Liam rode a very friendly pinto named Pickle, beside Tawny on Magnus. “We must pick our battles love, reports say this is a common monster, just a pernicious one of great size. Perhaps he will pull another badger out of his bag.” 

 

Shai was spinning wildly up the snowy road, her feet barely leaving an impression on the packed crust. Gary plowed through, hurling clots of snow and ice from his boots as he ran. As he drew near, she slipped off the road. 

They darted among the bushes and trees like wild animals, scampering down game trails and through winter brown bushes.

Before long, the pair were riding on the small one horse cart with Otho. Gary and Shai sat on the tailgate, he had his new guitar out, while she strummed her fiddle along beside.

Gary was telling a story to Amy and Wilford, though the rest listened in with unconcealed amusement, as he half chanted his tale in time to his gently swaying music.

 

“Once upon a time, a clever and handsome journeyman tailor voyaged to a far off land and there, fell in love with a lovely weaver woman. It was the custom in his home to court with boasting and braggadocio, so he stood in the royal market square and declared his virtues.”

Gary put on a bold and heroic voice and thrice raised his call.

 “Marry me, for I am the greatest tailor in the land! My stitches are so fine and small no man can see them! Marry me, my shears cut only the threads I command! Marry me, For my seams and pleats are so sharp they can draw blood! The weaver woman laughed and denied him thrice in turn.”

 Now Gary sounded breathy and soft, nearly feminine. “No fumbling needle jockey will marry me, my woof and warp mesh so tight, your needles will blunt and break!” Gary posed and preened on the tailgate of the cart, while strumming along in time.

“Shears of yours will not cut my cloth spun so fine, my gauze is too sheer to feel its weight, nor see its shadow! I will not marry you for I can spin cloth of gold and silver so light it floats on air!”

 

He shifted to dark and ominous tones and lowered his voice. “The ruler heard this and was wroth. ‘Surely my royal tailor is the best! I must test these upstarts!’ He told his vizier. It was ever the way of royal types to hear only what they wish and understand even less.”

“The wicked lord sent his guards and seized the pair at their innocent boasting play. ‘The emperor demands you show your vaunted craft and arts! You will together clothe his majesty in the garments you claim to create. If you fail to satisfy, you shall both be sold as slaves.’ Said the guards, for goons and lackeys are abundant in any land.”

Gary related the tale of how the clever crafters demanded rare and precious components, gems and metals, stockpiling a horde of pilfered wealth. They stalled and delayed, promising ever greater feats of haberdashery, as their love grew in their prison workshop.

“Finally the day was come, he embraced her and burdened her with their stolen wealth. ‘Wait only and hour at the dock then sail for my homeland if I do not come.’ They had bribed their guards, for goons and lackeys are abundant and cheap.”

“He went to meet the emperor alone, bearing an elaborate black silk covered box with gilt and pearls strewn as though the night sky had fallen to earth. When the wicked ruler saw, he was mightily pleased. ‘What wonders lie in a box so grand?’ He demanded.”

“The tailor opened the box, revealing a vast expanse of cloth of gold, sewn with black pearls. He dipped his hands in the box reverently and withdrew a garment beyond description.” Gary pantomimed the process, letting Shai carry the music while he gestured and posed.

“The young tailor was breathless in his excitement. ‘We labored so long, under the light of the moon and in darkness, that you alone might see its full glory first. See, how fine the stitches, look at the sheerness of the gold and silver, feel… it is less than an infant’s breath against her mothers breast. Touch… have you ever felt smoother velvet? Baby humminbird down is coarse nettles and straw beside this.’ He carried on and on, proclaiming its features and virtues as any proud crafter would.”

“His majesty was cruel and selfish, but he was a man who lived for costly clothes and fancied himself an expert in all things sartorial and fine. ‘I have seen nothing remarkable yet.’ It was true, for the young man’s words were true as well, the cloth was as thin and light as a baby’s first breath.” Gary winked bradley at his audience and ran a shimmering scale up his guitar.

“...So he said ‘Surely my lord remembers, I promised a robe stitched so fine, no mortal eye might see my craft, seams so sharp they will elude detection. How could I disappoint my lord? not for my life!’ The crafty tailor was wise as wise as he was humble.” 

“The foolish emperor sneered. ‘Your wife to be promised cloth of gold so sheer I could not feel its weight. Where is it, tailor?’ He stamped his slippered foot so hard his toe bells rang, in his manly fury.”

“The tailor bowed so low and humbly and cried, ‘My lord emperor, we worked tirelessly, I sewed her sheerest cloth of gold and silver trim into your new raiment… let me dress you, that you might dazzle the people in your fullest glory!’ The emperor smiled and disrobed, that this tailor who wrought such wonders, might dress him for a procession through the capital.”

 

“The emperor was pleased, his usual robes of state weighed so heavily. They stifled in summer and chilled in winter. The jewels would scratch his shoulders if he slouched even a little, while the sacred royal underthings had ritual knots and twists that he disliked intensely.”

Amy nodded wisely, while Gary continued, doing a breathy and distinctly upper crust accent for the emperor.

“The emperor nodded in the slightest hint of satisfaction. ‘These robes hardly chafe at all, while their weight is… satisfactory. I will not have you and your woman sold into slavery after all.’ With that, the emperor strode out, waving to his vizeirs and advisors  as he passed into the streets to show off his new garments, while the young tailor made for the docks with all possible speed to meet his lady love.” 

Gary took a bow, as the children and all the bathers except Tawny and Rolf Belen clapped and laughed.

“I don’t get it… The ruler received his garments, they survived his tyrannical efforts…” He scratched his short brassy colored hair. “Hardly a satisfying outcome.”

 

Amy sighed in exasperation. “They tricked him into going out nakie, the emperor had no clothes at all. Just flattery.” The young knight kept scratching his head for a few seconds before he sagged in his saddle dejectedly.

 

“Uncle Rolf, do you need a hug?” Amy asked sweetly. 

 

“Yes Amy, I do. Gary that felt like a personal attack. Why are all your songs and stories so… contrary?” He asked, long miles on the road finally breaking his reserve.

 

“I’m not contrary, I’m subversive. Your gods have some questions to answer before they get a crumb from me. Let me know when they decide to start dealing.” He grinned in that way… 

 

None of the young man’s companions noticed the 

feral, animalistic rage  hiding behind his smile. Not even Tawny… Rolf saw. 

Paul had warned him at the start of the journey, he had scoffed. The rascal got a lucky win on his home turf, using those weird tricks, that was no measure of a man. 

Now he saw behind the mask of foolish whimsey. There was something dark lurking there. Rolf fell quiet at his god’s command. Order wanted no slip ups with this creature. 

“Lord Order commands I remain silent on that matter.” He said coldly. “I was speaking of your constant slights and japes at the expense of your betters, you should learn your place… Tawny, why are you waving at me like that?” 

He shuddered, as some indefinable sense of loss washed over him. The world became slightly less colorful, as a little joy slipped from his grasp. 

 

“Try and keep up sir Rolf, surely a noble knight of Order is equal to that task.” The musical reprobate said, as the music began again. What followed, could only be the worst experience of his equestrian career. 

His horse cantered along at a terrifying pace, leaping snow drifts and sliding with stiff legged confidence down terrifying icy slopes. 

The nightmare hellride carried on for hours, long after a mortal beast should have dropped foaming and gasping to its end. Instead, Rolf swayed in the saddle, exhausted and holding on by training and habit alone.

 

They pulled up at a familiar looking inn by the side of the road as darkness made travel too chancey. 

“Still with us I see, let me show you to the nobles quarters.” Gary led the groggy and disoriented knight to a very comfortable room. The fireplace only smoked a little, cool draughts from the windows and a crack in the plaster over the bed let a fresh breeze through. 

A chipped, but still serviceable chamber pot and wash basin rounded out the amenities. The bed was spartan, but serviceable, no lumpier than one would expect from an inn by the side of the road. The others watched in silence as Gary led the exhausted young knight to his room for the night.

“Your gift is startling in its scope and breadth. I wonder that you are not already fostered with the ducal household… Tawny, why are you doing that again?”

 

“I’ll bring you a bucket of warm water to bathe in…” Gary smiled obediently and hustled off to make himself useful. 

 

“Really Tawny, he settled right down once I showed him who is in charge. Don’t let these nameless wastrels push you about so. We have our positions to consider.” He lectured smugly. “Have that Tallum fellow come help me with my armor, I’m worn right through. Your crew rides hard, is it Shai who has the equestrian gift? Those are rarely able to affect groups like that…” 

He chattered on, while Tallum helped him out of his gear and draped it over an armor rack to await the morning. 

After a meal in his room consisting of jerky, hard biscuits and winter apples with cheese, he fell into the restful sleep of exhausted virtue.

 

“He is going to be really mad when he finds out about the bath…” Tawny said, suppressing a giggle. 

 

Becky floated by in relaxed bliss. “Until his nose comes down from the uplands quarter, he might never find out. Gary is super weird that way.”

 

“You noticed right away kiddo. Yeah, he hasn't even seen the common room. Poor schmuck ate trail rations and went to sleep on the lumpiest cot I could summon.” Gary sighed and swam a lazy circle of the pool.

 

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“How do you do that? He must have seen and heard, but he just accepted that there was a shitty inn here by chance and he happened to get the best room.” Ivy said in awe. “He never even doubted for a moment.”

 

“That’s the magic of confidence, it’s a double edged sword though. The crawdaddie taught me that lesson.” He rubbed his still purple scarred tummy ruefully. “My spell gives him exactly what he expects to see just how he expects to see it.” The musician’s laugh was just a little cruel.

“I summon the shity room, he sees what he wants to see. My Entrainment power just smooths the edges, while Familiar Stranger teases his senses with just the info I want him to have. He invited himself along…”

 

“Gary, I expect you to be gracious and kind when he finally stumbles face first into your prank. He is not a bad boy, just well trained by my well meaning parents.” Tawny’s golden dimples said she was enjoying the show at least a little.

# 

 

Rolf staggered out of his blankets, cold and still exhausted. “Dreams of spiders, all night long…” He shuddered and started putting on his still damp and clammy underlayers. Dannyl showed up to help him buckle the frigid steel plates on. 

“Some wizard could make a tidy living if they came up with some kind of magical armor dryer…” He mumbled to himself, as so many knights and warriors had before. 

“Lazy dreamers, the lot of them.” He grumbled, thinking of the dilettantes at the college. “Should drag them all out in the field for a few weeks…”

 

“Good luck getting a wizard out in these cold and snowy hills my lord.” Dannyl agreed, as he helped Rolf mount. “They prize their comforts too dearly, not like your lordship.” 

 

“Was your night comfortable? The innkeeper inquired.” Gary asked obsequiously, a humble smile on his lips.

 

“Quite satisfactory, tell him to bill the duchy for our stay. Good man Gary, perhaps you might become my valet… With a little training you could have a career in service after your indenture.” He patted the bigger man on the shoulder condescendingly, now that he was mounted. 

“Musical instruments and such follies are for times of peace. Now we ride to war, in defense of mankind.” He declared.

 

“Certainly, my lord would know best…” Gary said as his guitar began to wail sadly

 

Once more the mad music began, this time pulsing and swaying with sorrowful rage, dragging him down the road on the back of a frenzied, leaping horse.

 

He could hear the madman singing his song over the clatter of wheels and hooves, as though the music came from everywhere at once.

 

The judge said "guilty" on a make-believe trial,

Slapped the sheriff on the back with a smile.

 

Said, "Supper's waiting at home and I got to get to it"

That's the night that the lights went out in Georgia.

 

That's the night that they hung an innocent man…

 

They cantered past a ragged, marching line of warriors, leading their mounts over the treacherous road. They stared at the departing band in wonder, only to overtake them a few short minutes later, at a splendid roadside inn that none of the road-worn knights remembered seeing before.

 

The innkeeper and her strange children served a marvelous lunch to the entire band of thirty, while their mounts were seen to in the stables. 

The slim dark waitress seemed excited by how much of the hot groundworm stew the warriors shoveled down. “Eat all you want, here, have some groundworm jerky for the road.” It almost seemed she was trying to get rid of the stuff.

When the tall red haired innkeeper led the warriors to the bath they did not hesitate or question. A two hour break ended far too quickly. The knights struggled back into their gear with dread, only to find their underthings and armor nicely dry and warm. 

 

When they formed up outside the gate to depart, the innkeeper and her children climbed aboard their cart and trundled along with the long delayed strike team.

 

“We thought you might like a ride, you folks have been stuck on these icy roads too long.” Their leader called from behind his puma mask. “Try and stay on the beat, it’s easier that way.” He said inexplicably as a musician began to play something odd.

 

The music swelled triumphantly, before drifting off in another direction. The musician sitting on the horse cart began to chatter. 

“This one is called ‘Cantaloupe Island’ it’s a weird number, just go with it. Does anybody here play a horn?”

Sarah Dobbins held her trumpet aloft with pride, already swaying in the saddle as her mount pranced in high stepping joy. “Fawkes said Annie was in the stable… where were you hiding Khan?” She spotted Luna and grinned. “Are these yours? Is this the band of youngsters we keep hearing rumors of?” 

 

“Put that horn in your mouth where it belongs and you will see soon enough what those rumors mean.” Luna jeered in return. “Put all that hot air to work.”

 

Sarah could really blow, she worked that horn all the way down a narrow mountain road. Their hooves thundered over ice and snow in a wildly complex rhythm as the kid’s instruments put wings on their steeds.

Thirty members of the Port Fallon strike team joined the merry dog cart band, as they tumbled down the mountain together. They whooped and hollered with enthusiasm, caught up in the music and subtly intoxicating spell. Only one person gritted his teeth and held on for dear life as his joyous steed lept and sunfished with excitement.

#

 

Leopold Belen, Duke of Wheatford and surrounding regions woke up naked on a bed of moss in a damp, warm cavern. 

Directly across from him sat a snapping turtle as big as a merchant wagon, its ivory hued beak dangerously close to some of his most valued parts. 

‘Peace, mortal, this is but a dream, none may harm or be harmed here. I am Kai of the waters, patron of the otter clan. My child sent you to this place at my command, please do not think ill of her.’ The massive head raised and lowered slowly, signifying… something.

 

‘Your body is as safe as can be, you will wake without ill effects in mere minutes. If anything, that nasty post traumatic stress in your subconscious should be cleared away now at least.’ She sighed in his mind, like snow falling on a still lake. 

‘War is such a dreadful business, you were never really suited to it in any case. Not like that bloodthirsty subordinate of yours, that one should really… I digress.’

She snapped her beak, getting his attention again. His gaze had wandered to the hot spring waterfall, glowing shelf fungus and the ridiculously comfy bed submerged in the swirling hot water. 

‘I copied this environment from a good friend…  charming, is it not? That is immaterial, you are about to find yourself a central figure in a matter of great consequence. Your god Order, may have much to say, or little on the matter you will face. Know this, this is a matter for mortals to decide, for your orphans to decide. Rely on divine guidance at your peril.’

 

“So the magic turtle in my dreams says I should not trust my gods in whatever mess is about to land in my lap. Forgive me if I consider the source before trusting your guidance.” He smiled wanly and shook his head. “This is not my first dream encounter with a spirit, though certainly the most comfortable.”

 

‘Consider all you wish, my goals and yours are aligned, whether you trust me or not. We have more friends in common than you suspect.’ She blinked her eyes so very slowly before she spoke again. 

‘The foolish hanged man, he shall hardly need my help. The lovers alone will have you dancing to their tune soon enough. The page of wands approaches, he has not learned what he might have, though the young ones are more agile of mind. Wake up now mortal lord. You have work to do.’

 

Leopold shook awake across the tea table from the seer, her claw still in motion, placing the next card. “Justice, this card shows what hangs in the balance, it is the answer, and the question. Consider this, duke of humans” She continued without a pause, as though nothing had  occurred. In the corner, his scribe began scratching away after a brief interruption.

 

“The final card, a resolution? Perhaps, or perhaps a deeper question.” Her dark, gleaming claw dropped the final card, the nine of swords. 

 

A figure wrapped in sheets or perhaps grave cloth sits up from a slab in horror, imprisoned all around by a  cage of wicked, double edged blades. 

Nine swords trapped a dreamer in a nightmare, while nine crows roosted outside in a tree, its boughs holding an empty noose with a fairy ring of nine deadly toadstools below the vacant rope.

 

“Inauspicious…” He croaked. The tea was still too hot to drink, he chugged it anyway.

 

“The nine of swords is a warning. If you look, the swords are not fixed in place. The dreamer must only rise and take them up to arm himself against adversity. Likewise, no force restrains the dreamer or compels them. It is a choice to sit in despair, or strive and risk all. Now I must depart.” She gathered her cards into a wooden box, wrapped it in ray skin and slipped out the back flap as silently as she had arrived.

“Send your notes to my wife by the first rider available. I am going to get a closer look at my daughter’s new friends. Something tells me they will be making trouble here too.” He strode out like a man on a mission, plucking a tiny bronze needle from his neck as he walked into the darkness.

#

 

Gurdan Singh, captain of the Port Ellis strike team had harsh words for his second as they dragged themselves into the duke’s camp that evening. They stumbled out of their saddles just as the sun went down, handing their reins to waiting grooms.

“You said we were still two days out at least, you are usually so precise. He scolded cheerfully. You buy the beer when we go to that inn again.”

“Deal, but put Brinks in charge of orienteering, he has a gift for it and I still think we were two days off at least… Is that the same inn?” Sarah stared and gaped as Luna swaggered out the garden gate with a smile. 

“Come on in, the pool is hot.” Khan called from a window in the carriage house.

# 

 

The Bathers were lounging in the private bath, Discussing plans for the morning when the duke and his second strolled in through the arbor.

The others rose to leave for the public bath, greeting the duke politely and excusing themselves. Finally only Tawny, Shai, Becky and Gary remained

 

“I am Leopold Belen, duke of Wheatford, this is Vera Anglin, my second officer.” He sank into the pool with a sigh of pleasure. “Your ridiculous lawsuit and magical antics are upsetting and disorderly. Now that we have been properly introduced, why have you made my pleasant and tranquil domain so chaotic?”

 

 

 

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