Spit and Song (Ustlian Tales Book 2)

by Travis M. Riddle

  The cavern’s establishments were built in rings radiating out from the spire. Generally, there was some order to their placement. One ring was dedicated to weapon and armor shops, blacksmiths, places that sold accessories, and whatever other equipment-based goods a killer could dream of. Another ring sold animals, food, bait, harnesses, and so on. There was another for sex work, another for poisons and potions—the Mass contained so many rings, Puk didn’t have the faintest clue what half of them were for, and he assumed there must be at least some repeats.

  Kali’s eyes were lit up as he explained all this to her. She told him she had never seen such a grandiose marketplace.

  “How is this the biggest market in the world?” she wondered aloud. “Of all the great cities in Ustlia, how did this secret, illegal market end up as the biggest and most varied?”

  Puk shrugged. He didn’t know the first thing about trading. “No regulations, maybe?” he offered. “Anyone can come here and set up shop and sell whatever shit they have, no questions asked.” It was the only explanation he could drum up.

  The outermost and largest ring, the one that Voya’s home and shop was a part of, was for the sale of “general goods,” which meant any old stolen thing the merchants could get their grubby hands on. Clocks, silverware, drugs—anything that didn’t fall into the more specific categories of the other rings.

  He could tell Kali wanted to investigate further, venture into the different rings and check out how the shops functioned, but they had a job to do. They needed to track down whoever was offering the job before the port opened up again in two days so they could be on their way by then.

  She followed dutifully behind him as he navigated around the outskirts of the Mass. They passed a huge number of shops, some of which he allowed Kali a few minutes to peek inside. She was particularly amazed by the low prices of most items, and Puk pointed out the high profit margins associated with stealing all your wares.

  In the end, it took about twenty minutes to reach the front door of Voya’s home. There was a large CLOSED sign hanging from it, which Puk blatantly ignored.

  He reached up to knock, but stopped when Kali asked, “Is this gonna piss him off? Knocking when he’s not wanting guests?”

  “He’s already gonna be pissed off when he sees me,” Puk said.

  “Exactly. Don’t you wanna not piss him off more?”

  “Pissed is pissed,” Puk shrugged. He knocked.

  There came a rumbling from inside. Angry thuds thundering through the building as its owner stomped to the front door, grumbling to himself, yelling to “read the sign and fuck off” and that “illiterates aren’t welcome here.”

  But still the door swung open, and before them stood Voya, absolutely fuming.

  His frown morphed into a vicious scowl as the tip of his gigantic tongue flicked in the air around Puk.

  “Well,” the ujath muttered in his deep, guttural voice, “look who the thuck it ith.”

  - -

  They stood at the threshold of Voya’s home and, after seeing the look on the ujath’s face as he stared down at Puk, Kali suddenly decided this was an awful idea.

  “Twooth be told, I didn’t think I would ever thee you again, Puk,” said Voya. Venom dripped from the qarm’s name.

  “Well, truth be told, you’ve never really seen me, have you?” Puk joked. Prodding him.

  In truth, Kali had never stood so close to an ujath before. Their torsos were saggy, fleshy orbs with no distinguishing facial features. Just rough, gray skin. Jutting out from each corner of their body were four long, spindly legs that rose into the air then sharply curved back down. Two limp arms hung from their torso as well, skinny and weak. There was an enormous opening for a mouth that took up most of an ujath’s body. From there, their massive pink tongues hung out, trailing along the ground, too big to fit inside their bodies. Ujaths had no eyes, instead using scent sensors in their tongues to navigate the world.

  “Tha’s thunny. Thunny thucking guy over here,” said Voya sourly, speaking around the huge, meaty appendage. It dragged along the ground, its tip pointing toward Kali now, leaving behind a trail of saliva. “Who’th thith?” he asked.

  She decided to speak for herself before Puk could say something snarky to dig them a deeper hole. “My name’s Kali,” she answered. “It’s nice to meet you.”

  “No it’s not,” Puk laughed. “Don’t lie to the guy.”

  She shot him a sidelong glance, a silent urge to be civilized, but he laughed that off too.

  “Look,” Puk said, turning back to his old friend, “Voya, I’m sorry I fucked you over so bad. I brought you some eggs.”

  “You bwought me eggth? Why the thuck do you think I wan’ eggth?”

  “I haven’t told you what type of eggs yet.”

  “I don’t think there are any eggth that can make up thor what you did to me. Thuck off.” He backed up on his four spidery legs, receding into his house. He was about to swing the door shut with one of his unnervingly humanoid arms before Puk leapt forward, blocking the action.

  “They’re cordol eggs!” he said. “We brought cordol eggs. I know you can make use of these, right? Hatching your own cordols to gather spit from? That’ll surely cut your costs down by a lot, if you’re your own manufacturer.”

  Voya’s scowl turned into what Kali would describe as a look of contemplation, if such an expression were possible on an ujath’s face.

  “Come inthide,” he said.

  They followed him in, Kali closing the door behind them. Puk shot her an impish grin, but she offered him a scowl of her own.

  They were truly an unlikely group. A spidery, fleshy ujath with his tongue sliding along the floor; a stocky, rubbery blue qarm; and a faif with fiery red hair and pastel-swirled skin. For the hundredth time, Kali pondered how she ended up where she was.

  Voya’s home was, astoundingly, in better condition than Zenib’s back in Restick. It was a modest place, with stacks of boxes lining the walls, but at the very least it was neatly organized. There were multiple light fixtures on the walls, granting the room much more light than outside. Certainly more for his customers’ benefit than his own.

  The ujath turned to face them, his arms swinging with dead weight. His tongue waved back and forth across the floor between his two front legs.

  “Tho,” he started, “where are thethe eggth?”

  “These eggs is here,” Puk said, gesturing to Kali, and without hesitation she offered him the sack. He opened it up and placed the two pale orange eggs on a tabletop near Voya, who lifted his tongue into the air, hovering it above them. Kali wondered if he could somehow smell the slight crack in one of them. After a few more seconds of inspection, the tongue then fell with a wet plop back onto the ground.

  “They thmell like cordol eggth.”

  “That’s because they’re cordol eggs. Why would I lie to you?”

  “Why would you thwo me off a boat?”

  “That’s all in the past. Water under the bridge.”

  “Or under the boat.”

  “Now look who’s the funny guy!”

  Kali did not understand the relationship between these two at all. Every barb Puk threw at Voya made her flinch, thinking the ujath was moments away from charging them down.

  “Tho your githt to me is a bunth of eggth that will hath into animalth I have to take care of?”

  Puk rolled his stalks back in exasperation. “You have to give the living creatures food and water, yes, and maybe pick up their shit and throw it away, but in exchange you get drugs. You love drugs, Voya, don’t try to act like you don’t. You once told me you’d morph into a bag of marshweed if you could. And also, we were both incredibly high when you said it. High on drugs.”

  Voya took a beat to consider the offering. It didn’t take long.

  “I’ll take the eggth,” he said, “but I don’t thorgive you.”

  “That’s fine,” Puk conceded. “I was an asshole. Am an asshole. But I wanted to give you these e
ggs as a peace offering. And to, uh…ask a favor.”

  “Thor thuck’s thake,” Voya groaned. “You didn’t even know if I made it home alive, and now you want a thavor?”

  “I know, it’s not ideal! And I already apologized!”

  “Not a good apolothy.”

  “Alright, well, I’m sorry about that too.”

  Voya’s limp arms reached up and began to massage the innumerable folds of skin on his body. It was done without any recognition from him whatsoever, causing Kali to wonder if it was an involuntary, subconscious action. Either way, it was not a pleasant sight.

  The ujath asked, “Wha’th the thavor? Le’th get thith over with. I wan’ you ou’ of my houth.”

  Puk grinned. “I want me out of your house too.”

  Kali braced for an outburst, but instead Voya laughed at the jab.

  She sighed with immense relief. Somehow, they had reeled him in. She caught herself almost laughing at the irony of the metaphor.

  “We heard about a job someone’s hiring for. Something about a book they want retrieved?”

  “A book?”

  “Don’t play dumb,” said Puk. “I heard about the shit all the way in Seroo’s Eye, so there’s no way you ain’t caught wind of it here.”

  Voya nodded, moving his entire body. “I think I know wha’ you’re talking about. I think the job’th already thpoken thor, though.”

  Shit. We took too long.

  Puk looked similarly irked. But he asked, “Do you know who the job’s coming from anyway? Maybe we can work something out with them.”

  “I doubt it,” said Voya, “but yeth, I know who to talk to. The guy’th name ith Hawa’i.”

  “What? What the fuck are you sayin’? Hawari?”

  “Hawa’i.”

  “Not helpful. Haratti?”

  “Yeth,” Voya grunted.

  “Is he a boss here, or just some underling? I wanna know if I gotta show this schmuck any respect.”

  “Underling,” said Voya, “but tho rethpect anyway. I’m not thure who he’th working thor, ekthactly, but people aroun’ here know not to thuck with Hawa’i.”

  Puk crossed his arms and muttered, “Fine, I’ll behave myself. Do you know anything else about the guy? Something we should know going into a meeting?”

  Voya rotated his entire body like a shake of the head. His huge, wet tongue dragged across the hard floor, a sound like a knife cutting through fruit.

  Another sigh from the qarm. Voya was definitely being useful, but he wasn’t quite the fountain of information they’d hoped for.

  Puk asked, “Well, you know where we can find him?”

  “You know the Wabid Dog?” Voya asked.

  Kali didn’t know if the Rabid Dog referred to a person or a place, but Puk seemed to know what the ujath was talking about. He affirmed.

  “Talk to a bartender there named Nithka. Tell her you’re a dipthit thwend of Voya, and that you wanna thpeak to Hawa’i. Thee’ll take you where you need to go.”

  “Do you want me to tell her I’m a dipshit because you think I’m a dipshit, or is that just the code you two worked out?” Puk asked.

  Voya laughed, a disgusting, wet rumble. “Doethn’t ma’er,” he said. “You gotta thay it.”

  Puk rolled his eyestalks again. “Fine,” he said. “Dipshit friend of Voya. Got it.” He turned to leave, tossing Kali the empty knapsack. She caught it and slipped the strap over her shoulder as the qarm sidled past her.

  “Thankth thor coming by!” said Voya, remaining stationary as they showed themselves out. His tongue still waggled slowly across the floor.

  Kali did feel slightly awkward about only having said one sentence to the man, but she admitted to herself she was glad to be out of his company.

  Puk stretched his short limbs as Kali pulled the door closed behind them. “Well, let’s go to the Rabid Dog, I guess,” Puk sighed. “Don’t know if this woman’s name is Nithka or Niska, but we’ll find out soon enough, I guess.”

  “Is it close?” Kali asked.

  “Kinda,” he replied. “It’s in this cavern, anyway. A few rings in.”

  Kali smiled. “Can—”

  She didn’t even have to finish her question. “Yes,” Puk groaned, “we can stop in some stores on the way.”

  She was ecstatic.

  - -

  Allowing Kali to check out some of the shops on their way to the Rabid Dog gave Puk a chance to use the facilities’ bathrooms. Since last night he’d had an unfortunate case of diarrhea, one of the more severe symptoms of a fire-spit withdrawal that he had mercifully not experienced in years past. He regretted drinking that damn spit all over again.

  The generalized “hospitality” ring—home to establishments such as (nicer) inns, restaurants, and bars—was located in the middle of the rest, so as to be easily walkable from anywhere in the cavern. That was where they would find the Rabid Dog.

  The Mass was much livelier, especially as the morning went on. There was the same hustle and bustle as any other city on the mainland, but it was a far cry from Seroo’s Eye or Restick. Even Toralas. People walked the street with guns and swords strapped to their waists in plain sight, silently inviting others to mess with them; drug users lined the streets, stepping out of restaurants, giving a slight stretch and a yawn, then rubbed oporist on their upper lips; others hacked apart animals they had just bought, or otherwise trained them by having them attack their friends, in both cases spraying blood on the pathways.

  Puk liked the exclusive and solitary nature of the city, as well as the ease of purchasing drugs and lack of judgmental stares, but hated basically every other aspect of it. His unwavering disdain for Myrisih gave him hope that perhaps he’d not totally fallen victim to this way of life yet. He was a dirtbag, to be sure, but he was no Voya.

  After another bathroom visit and a gander around a potions shop, the two stepped outside and were only a few minutes’ walk from the hospitality ring.

  “I’m surprised they didn’t have any noxspring,” Kali commented as they walked. Puk had been shitting the entire time they’d been in the store, so he had no idea what she was shopping for.

  “You said it’s still kinda rare, right?” he asked. She nodded. “Maybe they just don’t have any in stock.”

  “I asked the owner, and he said he’s never heard of it.”

  “I dunno,” Puk shrugged. He kept walking.

  Kali was silent for a few moments, but then asked, “Do you think maybe Vonoshreb made it up?”

  “Who?”

  “Doesn’t matter. I’m just wondering if…maybe noxspring is a lie? Either from Vonoshreb or the woman that sold him the bottles in the first place. It did sorta sound too good to be true…”

  A potion that reversed the effects of the mold did indeed sound like a beautiful dream. In Puk’s experience, beautiful dreams were just that: dreams.

  “I ain’t got a clue,” he said.

  Kali huffed. “It…noxspring was the whole reason I started this,” she said. “Learning about it is what finally pushed me to get off my ass and get to Atlua.”

  She had stopped walking, so Puk stopped as well and turned, giving her another shrug. His stalks drooped empathetically. “I dunno if it’s fake or not. You’re basing this existential crisis on one asshole in one shop. He mighta just never heard of it. Or he mighta heard of it but didn’t wanna tell you, for some reason. The reason probably being because he’s an asshole.”

  This explanation didn’t seem to put her at ease. She knitted her brows and her mouth slanted.

  “You wanna get to Atlua regardless, right?”

  She nodded.

  “Good. Let’s do this job, then.”

  “If Haratti even gives it to us,” she pointed out.

  Puk ignored that remark and resumed their trek to the specified bar.

  Voya’s comment about the job already being accepted by someone else worried him. Their detour to snatch the eggs might have cost them everything, though he hadn
’t seen any way around it. Myrisih was too big to go searching for a person whose name they hadn’t known, and Voya was his sole point of contact here.

  They turned onto the hospitality ring, passing by multiple restaurants with the scent of burnt food wafting from their open windows and doors. Just beyond a restaurant that had actual ink-black smoke drifting from its windows, there was a row of bars with their lights blacked out.

  “It’s just now occurring to me,” Kali said, “that it’s the morning. Isn’t this place gonna be closed until tonight?” Puk saw her cast a concerned gaze at the bars they passed.

  He chuckled and said, “The people who run these places are just lazy,” he said, gesturing toward the shuttered taverns. “But I’ve been to the Rabid Dog plenty of times, and the people there ain’t lazy, ’cause laziness ain’t profitable.”

  “Bars are open this early here?”

  “Bars don’t close here. Unless, like I said, you’re lazy.”

  “Wow.”

  “Are you genuinely surprised?” he asked her.

  “I suppose not, now that you mention it.”

  The Rabid Dog wasn’t too far down the ring. Its façade soon came into view, with a wooden sign carved in the shape of a snarling dog jutting out from the front of the building, its name painted in red script. It was one of the larger bars in the Mass, and therefore one of the biggest in the entire city. The bar was painted red to match the lettering on its sign, and the building itself was kept in better condition than most places in Myrisih. The place’s proprietors had a reputation for being well-connected, so its patrons were plentiful and generous.