Chapter 90: Ch: 82 Gimme Some Money…

**launching Friday's early, cause I was doing some editing.**

 

 

Ch: 82 Gimme Some Money…

The nameless spirit of earth and stone waved cheerily at the young couple and strolled out the front door. 

“Come see me again and dance some time, you can bring that if you wish.”  He nodded Gary’s way and jumped into the rushing creek.

 

“That was kinda creepy, the dryads should give lessons on making an exit...” Gary said, while he watched the small clay figure wash away, with a parting rude gesture.

 

“We shall return, he hae some wisdom tae impart… I would know what horrors lurk below these hills as well. He did say he were, ‘infested wi nasties’ in all.” Shai shuddered in the spring afternoon. “We hae a long ride home boy. Be yer arse recovered?”

 

“This is the good part. We donkied up here, pedaling, bushwhacking and hiking the whole way… now it’s all downhill, on a trail we just cleared.” His happy smile was spread so wide it looked uncomfortable. “We are going to have so much fun.”

 

“I shall think on fun when I hae my children back under mine eyes.” Her words and tone said ‘enough of your foolishness’, but her smile suggested a certain thrill as they began rolling down the trail.

#

 

Nara strolled the market, garnering strange looks and occasional whispers. All in all it was rather well mannered and polite, considering her exotic appearance. 

She wore her black panther armor with its snarling cat face, all angled plates of dark metal and reinforced leather. The distracting and menacing form concealed her nature very effectively… at the cost of social acceptance, usually.

 She perused the wares and stalls, running her toebeans over the local wool and linen cloth with pleasure. 

“I will have three yards of this worsted wool and six of the linen. What of spidersilk, Wheatford is known for the craft.” She purred.

 

“You Adventurers do love your spidersilk! We have several weaves, did you want something for armor or clothing? Our more delicate sheers have become quite popular of late…” 

The cute and sprightly lad in the weaver’s smock dragged a heavy sample book from the shelf and thumped it down on the counter.

“At this point in the season we are weaving to order, what can we… Oh! The Sweet Tooth guild is back! Pardon me!” 

The lad ducked under his counter and sprinted for the shop door. He paused and waved to her urgently. “Come on! You don’t want to miss out!”

He snatched up her hand and smiled happily. “They are a Wheatford tradition now!” He almost dragged her out the door and into the square.

 

In the center of the public plaza, a small garden with a lovely oak tree surrounded a few benches and a small fountain. A trio of musicians were making a lovely racket under the tree. 

They wore simple worker’s clothing in muted colors, topped by green flat caps embroidered with a deep, rich brown warhorse. Adorned with a silver mane, fetlocks and tail, the rampant mare was a clear and potent icon. 

Other children in the embroidered caps scooted about the square with shallow baskets, distributing small bright packets of waxed paper to strolling shoppers and the gathering audience.

 

“What is all this?” Nara purred happily, already swaying to the simple dance tune.

 

“The Sweet Tooth guild is a local secret society, they are guerrilla confectioners.” He paused, looking around suspiciously. “No one really knows where they come from or where they go…” He intoned mysteriously. 

 

At a glance she recognised three of the children on skates and one of the teen musicians, from bathtime at the orphanage. The weaver’s apprentice seemed so happy to be in the know, she couldn't bear to let on.

“Fascinating…” She purred happily, while taking the lad for a twirl. 

“Oh yes, this tradition goes back to ancient times! The guild was formed when a beautiful maiden made candy so sweet she lured the god Secret, down from the moon…” He danced passably, as his fanciful tale spun on and on. 

 

Clearly extemporized for his own entertainment, his story told of the god Secret, taking the form of a chocolate brown horse with silver mane and tail, to accompany his beloved on her journey for candy knowledge. Battling bandits and monsters, the brave chocolatier developed her skills as the increasingly unlikely tale wound on.

 

“...so the rabbit in the moon, who pounds and mills the secret medicine of immortality for the gods; she taught her how to mill the cacao smooth, with her sacred medicinal arts.” 

As they danced and talked in the happy crowd, the children scampered through the throng distributing their goods with deft hands. Packets were tucked into shopping baskets, sleeves and pockets with happy giggles.

 

“When she finally galloped on her mighty steed down the bridge of rainbows, back to the realms of men, the fair maiden leapt to the earth with a grateful cry. Overjoyed, she turned to congratulate her brave mount, he was nowhere to be seen, vanished like the wind.”

 

The weaver lad was gasping for breath and red faced, but still gamely dancing when his tale ended. She gave him one last twirl and landed him on a bench to catch his breath.

 

“Do you spin the same line for every newcomer to this town?” She asked while having a stretch.

 

“Absolutely not, only fresh rumors and unfounded supposition in my master’s shop!” He said with pride. “The weaver’s guild upholds our gossip traditions.”

 

Together, they and any number of other shoppers, apprentices and shopkeepers returned to the shops, picking up where they had left off as though this were a regular occurrence. 

“Truly, does this happen often?” She asked, while fondling the samples in the book. “It seems like that would be disruptive.” She began emptying her pockets of the small bright packets the orphans had gleefully stuffed in her armor while she danced.

“What is all this?” She muttered in mild annoyance. She tore one open and wrinkled her nose. “Chocolate. Ugh, do you want this stuff?” She asked, pushing her small pile into his.

 

“You don’t like chocolate? But this is… Happy to oblige!” He said with a wink, when she nodded.

 

With her order placed and her bolts of cloth slung across her armored back, she strolled back to the Adventure compound.

 

 The strange young couple were still away on their mysterious errand, but their kits were playing in the garden, on the giant horse. She peered around nervously, but the dog seemed absent.

“Nara!” Amy cried happily. “Come play! We’re playing horsie!”

 

‘Horsie’ was a complex game, it involved napping in the spring sunshine on Annie’s back, while she ambled around the garden and Adventure compound, browsing the foliage.

 

Becky came and ruined the game, just when Nara was winning. She had finally found the comfiest spot on Annie’s broad back to curl up.

“Time for lessons, then lunch!” The young woman shouted, ruining a particularly subtle, tail over toebeans maneuver.

Nara gave a dissatisfied mew as she jumped down.

“Becky, you fail to appreciate the art of napping. Let me instruct you.”      

 

“Maybe some other time…” She sang, while deftly eluding the sleepy cat woman’s halfhearted grab for a nap partner. 

 

“I like this guild hall…” She stretched and yawned happily. “A group of your orphans were making a splendid scene in the market this morning. What is going on with the chocolate? There must be a story there.”

 

“Oh yeah, there is! Once upon a time, long, long ago, a man fell to earth from another world. He came with strange knowledge and weird ideas…” Becky began, while she started the children at their letters in the common room.

“...they say he drowned the god of Secrets in a pond and ate two of the duke's tax collectors to take their souls…”  The foolish girl spun a wild tale, even less believable than the rubbish she had heard in the market.

“... and so he wanders the land, searching for the means to kill yet another god, this time to save the world and all of us. No one knows where he went or if he will ever return…” She let her balderdash drift off with a satisfied smile.

 

“You could just tell me to mind my business.” She sniffed, as she curled up on the couch by the fire.

#

 

“Whooooo!” Shai was a risk taker, she flew down the trails like a mad woman, barely in control from the start. Her wild careen threw mud, small stones and detritus in his face as he struggled to keep up.

 

“You're an insane woman… you have kids at home!” He gasped, as they joined the cart track and he could catch her up.

“Find some guts boy, tis a fine day, an we hae no-…!” Poor Shai’s jibes were cut off as they came around a bend in the road.

Gary swerved hard and locked up his brakes. He ditched his bike into a patch of cabbages, left to go to seed. He tumbled among the rows for a moment, while Shai slapped face first into a compost cart, pulled by a very surprised carter and her donkey.   

 

“You ok lover?” The musician groaned, as he helped her out of the loose, wet muck. “Traffic hazards never come when you expect them.” 

 

“What’s all this in aid of? Mad kids…” The carter snapped, until recognition caught up with surprise. 

“Journeyman Shai! Are ye well? Does this mooncalf of yours need a beating?” Ollie was Shai’s cousin through some complex familial arrangement. She was not over tall or wide, just large, rather than gigantic. 

 

“Nae Ollie, did we hurt thee or Frederick?” She asked, limping around to the front to coddle the donkey. 

 

“Is he ok?” Gary shouted, while pulling the remains of Shai’s bike from beneath the cart. Her front wheel, fork and frame were shot, the rest looked dodgy at best.

 

“He is put out with thee boy, He will nae forgive thee for this jolt, unless ye promise he kin hae a turn tae play at ‘horsie’ wi the kids.” She called back, while administering a therapeutic ear rub to the badly shaken donkey.

 

“You ran into her… I made slaw over in that field.” He protested weakly, as he tucked away the broken bikes. “I suppose they would love a visit… bring Flora along.”

He went back to collecting broken parts. “Split my rear frame member, broke two spokes and warped the wheel… two prototypes down.” He grumbled in disappointment.

 

#

“Pink flowers…” He grumbled in disappointment.

 

“Shush, Leo we begin soon…” Celeste Belen, duchess of Wheatford and priestess of Healer, shushed her husband fondly. He made the same complaint every time they came into the conference room. To be fair it was hideous.

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The magic of the conference chamber required that each room be oriented to celestial bodies and attuned to local energies to duplicate the background magical levels in each of the mated chambers in their disparate cities. 

 

At some point in the distant past, someone had wallpapered theirs in a most thoroughly offensive green velvet flocked nightmare, scattered with ghastly pink orchids. 

Any change in decor would sever their chamber from the council for at least a month, until the spell could be reestablished. At runious expense.

 

“Bloody embarrassing…” He began, only to be cut off by a furious glare from his wife. A subtle thrum ran through the room, shaking the portrait frames scattered around the round chamber. 

Each frame slowly fogged over, resolving into a familiar face all save one.

 

“Duke Belen… where is Duke Holloman? You called this conference yet cannot get your vassals to appear?” An elegant woman in late middle age asked, from a  wicker peacock chair that was obviously uncomfortable. 

Judging by how often Grace Sheng shifted in her seat, it might have been crawling with fire ants, splinters were more likely.

 

“Duke Holloman had a near miss with an outsider, his chamber will be out of order for at least a week or two. He regrets the inconvenience and has given me his proxy.” Leo said calmly. 

“He has received the same materials you have. My lords will notice his chop on the report of the outsider incursion in Evard fishing village. That village lies just twenty miles from the walls of Port Ellis.” He stopped for a few moments to let them chew on that bit of gristle.

 

“Impossible! Not unless Port Ellis’ temples have all fallen!” Duke Abed Mubarek barked, in defiance of protocol. “This whole packet is madness from start to finish. My head justiciar went into ‘seclusion’ as soon as she read the ridiculous lawsuit you have accepted.” He snarled.

“As for the rest… if you can’t manage your domestic affairs… abdicate. We can find a candidate to take your seat… Brennan Fallon is promising.” 

 

The lord’s handsome, angular face twisted in fury when duke Belen reported the sad news of Brennan’s passing. 

“...And so poor, brave Brennan’s investigation into the underground flesh trade has turned up some troubling evidence, which led to his death… my justiciars are rounding up the conspirators even now. Some of you will find extradition requests for certain individuals in your packets.” A noticeable chill swept the room, as several nobles began leafing through papers and looking nervous.

“The topic for this emergency meeting is twofold. Let me explain, before we begin our usual debate over whether a common orphan should be here…”

 

With an undignified snort, baron Flavius Hreth snapped. “You can’t even manage your own orphans… This strange prodigy roaming about free… even my damn candymakers have been throwing fits!”

 

“If baron Hreth wants to come tell Otho of Joy how to run his orphanage by all means, you are welcome to it. Come try and take one of his children off to fosterage.” 

Leopold leaned forward into the small crystal sphere on his desk. “Listen well. Neither Gary Ward nor any other of ‘my orphans’ are going to be fostered out, unless one of you can convince Otho to sign off on it. Do Not Test Me.” 

Even across untamed and monster strewn miles and through the magical artifice of countless wizards, duke Belen’s voice held absolute surety.

 

“Back on topic, first, we have outsiders encroaching closer than they have ever before, by miles. My report bears close examination. This was no accident or random occurrence, this could happen at any time in any land.”

 

“Oh yes, fairy stories and trashworms abound in this fable you have sent us. How ever did you get your clergy to sign off on this madness?” Countess Lakshmi Habibi had a glorious voice, sweet and chiming, almost a match for his daughter’s. 

“Mysterious orphans from parts unknown, undead tax collectors… my aunt is a tax collector Leopold… shall I check to see if great aunt Fatima is some horrific beast from beyond the grave?” 

Her portrait’s gaze snapped to a location to her right. “Jumal, stop that giggling immediately or leave the room, I will tell your aunt, young man!” She turned back to the assembled nobles with an embarrassed wave. “Children.” 

 

Belen coughed politely and took the reins again. “That brings us to my second point. I have it on reliable authority, from coherent and respected witnesses, including a full justiciar knight of Order and a peer of the realm, that these events transpired just as described in that brief.” He peered at each face in turn, his eyes roaming over the scant two dozen portraits hung on the curving walls. 

“Have your own clerics been forthcoming lately? Or have they been dodging questions and avoiding you?”

A general grumble wandered the room for a moment. 

 

Duke Mubarek broke the quiet. “This is still all supposition and theories. New gods, outsider plots and schemes. How could such deception go on for… decades? Complete madness.” He sneered. 

“This is some plot to weaken the cult of War. Angling to get your precious orphans special treatment are we? You and that old scarecrow, Otho have been banging that drum for years and old Belen before you.” A calculating look crawled over his face as he spoke. 

“The rumors persist… that old duke Belen had a secret bastard raised in the orphanage… then you were wed to Celeste Belen and elevated to the peerage…” He mused quietly, while several other portraits became conspicuously still. “Half siblings have married before…”

 

“By all means Abed, continue this line of inquiry. I will undergo tests with Healer and Order… again, proving my ‘common stock’.” He said, with a calm and pleasant smile. 

“Then, I will meet you where you wish, when you wish, with what weapon you wish.” A smile can be pleasant without holding any warmth at all.

“As for ‘my orphans’... they are Joy’s orphans until indenture. I will send your complaint to Otho.” His smile became cruel and hard, the pitiless mask of a killer. 

“Perhaps he will visit your domain… he has his full complement of Joyous and a small band of Adventurers he has been cultivating. A bit of travel might do him well. Perhaps I will accompany him. Shall I come calling… duke Abed Mubarek?”

 

Countess Wilgren of Port Standish broke the tableau. “If these reports are even partially accurate we have far bigger things to worry about than which one of you could or should murder the other.” She snapped crisply and directly at the quarreling noblemen.

“Abed, secure an heir for your own domain, before you start nosing around in other realms’ affairs.” She shifted her focus to the burly nobleman. “Belen, murder is only occasionally the correct answer, you have other talents… at least I hope you do. If not, try gardening.”

She shook her long, flowing brown hair and sighed wistfully. “I was looking forward to a calm and peaceful summer, Belen. Why is all of this landing in your lap? Where is that mad wizard your clan keeps?”

 

“Zygnos the mage passed on just after midsummer. He will be sorely missed.” His eyes snapped back to Abed. “Some believe that Zygnos was the secret of Belen’s strength… they will test that theory at their peril.”

 

“So if it was not Zygnos who banished the outsider…” Eglund Fallon began, before silencing himself, drawing a vicious glare from Leopold.

 

“Rest assured that Belen is well protected, by arms and by sorcery. When the authors of our current discontent are rooted out, there will be a full report… and a reckoning for the wrongs committed.” His eyes fell onto Julius Rummel, count of Port Clement.

“You may have noticed that my prisoners were in possession of a scroll with your seal on it, Julius. A blank scroll with your personal chop. I had it examined, it seems quite legitimate.” 

He cocked an eyebrow at the young lord, who shifted awkwardly under the older man’s gaze. “We have not yet gotten any real answers from them, but I have a team of specialists on the case. I’m sure you will be as interested in their results as I.”

 

The burly lord stroked his chin thoughtfully. “I will put Zygnos’ apprentice on the task. When my team arrives, I expect them to be given all due courtesy and aid.” Leo flashed his boyish grin at the young lord. “I have other duties, you have my reports. We can address any further developments at the next regular meeting. Let’s wrap this up before…” 

With a soft crackle, baron Kelvin of Fort Pasture vanished. One by one they disappeared, as their mage’s spells failed. Finally it was just Belen and Mubarek, eyeing each other.

“Amicus Fawn is running my chamber Abed… I am going to sign off. This wizard measuring contest we have been getting into is childish… and I always win…” Leopold said happily, just as the other duke’s image cracked and failed. 

“That was impressive Amicus!” Celeste cheered and bounced like a teenager. “It felt like you could keep going for a while longer yet!” 

 

“Amicus, please don’t overextend yourself to satisfy my wife’s petty and childish whims. I did enjoy watching him squirm, if I’m honest.” Leopold sighed happily. 

 

“Duke Mubarek is going to be emboldened now that the rumors of Zygnos’ death are confirmed.” Amicus said softly. “Many still believe that he was propping up your rule somehow, even after he vanished. They will assume you have been weakened drastically.”

 

“Old duke Belen never had this nonsense.” He grumbled while the duchess patted him on the rump.

 

“Daddy was a politician, born and trained to the role from birth.” Celeste whispered. “Abed would never have been as openly disrespectful to him, but then, he did not have the options you have. When the time comes, Abed will come crawling to us.”

 

“What do you know, woman?” Leo demanded. Scooping her up in his arms.

 

“He is on the edge of famine in his lands. Lady healer reports we should get our first refugees next week. The fool is trying to keep it secret, he lost three villages on the fringe, right at harvest. All the people fled, most are headed for Flintspire. Do you see a pattern?” She curled up in his arms as he carried her through the halls. 

 

“No, that’s what’s bothering me. How did we not see this all along? The constant pressure and losses, famines and towns wiped out in waves, every generation. Looking back I see it now, but I still don’t see it. Does that make any sense?” 

 

The duchess shook her head and sighed. “Now at least we can get rid of all this groundworm. I was afraid we would be eating it till midsummer.”

 

“Without Tawny’s new friends, this trouble would have an entirely different outcome. We would be among the refugees, our fates cast to the winds.” Leo’s face hardened into a block of stone as he spoke. “Someone has been playing a very dangerous game, that boy gave us our first peek at the rules. Now I plan to tip over the table”

#

 

“No. If you want to send someone over to bully Julius Rummel, send Rolf, he and his pack of idiots could use the exercise.” Tawny cocked a golden eyebrow at her brother. “Three of my normal rank teammates trounced their whole crew, while juggling a baby.”

 

“Nothing about that man is normal but his rank.” Rolf grumbled. “He bewitched us with something sneaky and Journeyman Shai nearly took the swordsman’s prize at the last feast of war.” 

 

“Fun fact, as Gary likes to say, my musician friend never even touched a weapon before midsummer’s day. They don’t learn arms where he comes from.” She cooed.

 

“Madness! Telling stories is for children, Trelawny.” Herbert snapped from down the table.

 

“Believe what you will, our record speaks for itself. On that note papa… my friends are as yet uncompensated for our last contracts. No pressure, it is a large sum.” She said sweetly, batting her eyelashes at the whole dining room.

 

“My apologies… the capital is not replying to my requests for funding. Some paperwork issue somewhere no doubt.” Leopold said with a sheepish grin. “If need be I will dip into the family coffers for it. Cursed bureaucracy.”

 

“Gary is not a mercenary, but he does not feel any real loyalty to you, or any authority figure. If you wish to stay on good terms with him, treat him like any skilled craftsman.” She sat back from her glazed partridge with honeyed root vegetables and dabbed her lips.

“I am rejecting your contract, not because of the outstanding balance, but because we have not even been home a week. We have children in our troupe, papa, they need time at home with their family and friends, to have their lessons and be children.” She stood and nodded to her parents. 

“I will take your request to my friends and we will discuss it. We are not one of your indentured warbands… yet.”

#

 

Gary and Shai got back just around fifth bell, they hopped off the compost cart in the market ward and waved goodby to Ollie and Fredrick, then dragged themselves into the Adventure compound. They charted a course for the baths and ignored most of the friends and family that attempted to intercept them. 

Amy and Wilford were scooped up, despite their protests that they had already bathed and dragged along for the ride.

“What’s the verdict on the bike prototypes?” He asked smugly from the pool. “Should I make you a mark two model? Better yet, wanna help? Let’s talk torsion bar suspension.”

 

Amy and Wilford  snuck off with Tawny, while the two got deep into the weeds. 

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