Spit and Song (Ustlian Tales Book 2)

by Travis M. Riddle

  “I thaid thuck off!” Voya roared in his face. The ujath’s massive tongue slid carelessly on the ground, specks of dirt sticking to the wet, pink flesh. It flicked toward Kali, picking up her scent.

  “That’s no way to treat a friend,” said Puk. “Especially not after the gift I gave you on our last visit.”

  “I’m thick of you and your githt,” said Voya, his wiry, spidery limbs clacking on the floor as he retreated into his home. Puk took this as an invitation inside, and Kali followed, taking care not to accidentally step in the trail of saliva left in his wake.

  “How are you even alive thtill?” Voya asked him. “I thought wha’ever job you took would kill you.”

  “I’m resilient,” Puk replied.

  The house was much messier this time around. There were still boxes everywhere, but several were toppled, with their contents spilling out onto the floor for Voya and them to crush underfoot. Much to Puk’s disgust, there were also tiny white droppings scattered all over the place, granting the house a sharp, tangy stench.

  And soon the mess’s culprits came into view.

  Two baby cordols darted into the room, one chasing the other. They sped across the span of the room like tiny red bullets. Both slammed into the side of a box, its contents jangling inside. Only then did Puk notice bits and pieces of pale orange eggshells littering the floor.

  Voya started a low growl that turned into a frustrated scream.

  “I thould have nether taken thothe thucking eggth from you!” he thundered. “I hate cordolth!”

  “Aww, but they’re so cute!” Puk grinned, watching the two babies run around in a circle, biting after each other’s tails. Being so young, their skin was hairless and smooth, and they glided across the floor with ease. Must speedier than the lumbering ujath. It was no wonder he could not keep up with them.

  Behind Puk, Kali laughed. He joined in.

  “Thut up,” Voya grimaced. He slammed the end of his tongue on the ground like a fist. “Take them back.”

  “I don’t want ’em,” said Puk. “I ain’t a paternal type like you.”

  “They thit all over the plathe, and my tongue ith alwayth on the gwound. It’th not thunny, Puk.”

  “It’s a little funny.”

  Voya growled again. For a moment, Puk thought the ujath might finally enact his revenge for being unceremoniously thrown off a boat. Better not to instigate further.

  “Okay, look. I’ll make a deal with you. I don’t know why you think raising these little tykes won’t be worthwhile with all the profit you’ll make off their nasty little mouths when they’re older, but I’ll take ’em off your hands. As long as you help us with something first.”

  The ujath was plainly desperate. “Name your prithe,” he said without hesitation.

  “The price is this: we need to hire some mercenaries, and I know you know the best in town. Am I wrong?”

  “Not wong,” said Voya, “but what do you need them thor?”

  “Something important, which is why we need your most trustworthy. No backhanded deals where they’ll turn around and fuck us over right when the job is done. Or if you don’t know anyone like that personally, at least point us in the direction where we can maybe find some.”

  “If I find thomeone you can twutht, you’ll take thethe thingth?” Voya wanted to verify, using his tongue to gesture toward the energetic cordols wrestling on his floor amongst debris.

  “Yes,” said Puk, lying to his friend’s face. His face split into a grin and he almost broke into a laugh, so it was lucky for him Voya had no eyes.

  “How many do you need?”

  “I dunno. Four? Five?”

  Voya pursed his lips as much as he could around his hulking tongue. He said, “Thine. Le’th go.” He scuttled past Puk and Kali then out the door, not bothering to wait for them.

  They slipped out into the Mass, closing the door behind them while the cordols banged into more of Voya’s precious possessions.

  The ujath led them a few rings deeper into the Mass. As they navigated the crowd, Kali asked Puk, “Where’s he taking us?”

  “I’m not sure exactly,” he answered. “I know there are a few mercenary crews in the city and they all have their own bases, but I dunno where any are ’cause I’ve never needed one. The ones who work solo tend to just hang around bars and shit. I figure he’s takin’ us to one of the bases he’s got connections to.”

  The building Voya stopped in front of identified itself as the home of The Ziolo’s Tusks. He lifted the end of his tongue into the air, waving it around the sign, checking that it was the correct place.

  “Here,” he then said, reaching to open the door.

  The three entered, and every person inside turned to get a good look at them.

  The base had the feel of a travelers’ outpost, though with more modern and higher quality furnishings. Various monsters’ heads were mounted on the walls, their mouths hanging open in vicious snarls. Men and women were lounging on sofas in the middle of the room, while others stood in an open kitchen area cooking and chatting. Exasperated grunts and groans of those training could be heard from another unseen room.

  “Hey there, Voya,” said a tall, thick man sporting a scar that ran down the length of his neck. “Who’re your friends here?”

  “‘Fwendth’ is a bit of a thtweth,” said Voya sourly. “That’th Puk, and the’th…well, I don’ remember her name.”

  “Kali,” she introduced herself to the man.

  “I’m Jon Hoskings, head of the Tusks. Pleasure to meet you, ma’am.” He bowed, which Puk found exceptionally off-putting.

  Voya cut to the point. “I atthume you have four or five people you could par’ with for the nigh’?”

  Hoskings nodded, flashing a smile at Kali. “Sure do. What’s the job?”

  The ujath allowed Puk to speak for himself. “You know Haratti?” the qarm asked.

  “Sure.”

  “Great. Well, we’re about to go sell him something, and we wanna steal it back right after. We need some brawn to jump his goons after we make the exchange and grab the item for us.”

  Voya’s jaw would have dropped if it were possible. “Oh, thuck off,” he muttered. “You can’ be theriouth. You’re gonna double-crotth Hawa’i?”

  “Yes.”

  “I thould not have bwought you here.”

  Hoskings cheerfully laughed at the exchange. The man was unperturbed by the arrangement. “Haratti’s got a hell of a reputation,” he said, a faint frown etching onto his face. “Everyone in Myrisih is smart enough to let him and his crew operate without any pushback. They ain’t the hardest crew on the island, but screwin’ with them ain’t the smartest choice.”

  Puk frowned as well. Getting the mercenary band on board was vital. He and Kali had narrowly escaped a few scuffles, but they were no match for Haratti.

  “You’re a thtupid man,” said Voya to Puk.

  The qarm shot him a sarcastic smile, which Voya reciprocated, exposing a row of jagged, discolored teeth hanging above his massive tongue.

  “Voya’s right,” Puk went on, “I am a stupid man. But…”

  He trailed off, not sure if appealing to Hoskings’s moral code would do them any favors. He did not know the man at all, so it was entirely possible he had no moral code beyond “whatever gets me paid is good.”

  But he decided to give it a shot. “Haratti’s dealing with some bad shit here. I know that’s his whole thing, but this is badder shit than usual, I’d wager. Like ‘start a war’ type of bad shit.”

  Hoskings grinned. “Truth be told, wars are good for the mercenary business.”

  Shit, Puk thought before muttering it aloud.

  Kali piped up. “Fair enough,” she said. “But you know what else is good for business?”

  “What’s that?” Hoskings asked her.

  “Business.”

  They all waited for her to elaborate.

  “Puk’s not wrong. This stuff that Haratti’s dealing with
is really bad, and in all likelihood it could start a war. But it also might not. And even if it does start one, it might end it just as fast. It’s some devastating shit that could maybe wipe you out in an instant. It’s not something you wanna go up against.” She did not tear her gaze from Hoskings, her voice strong and confident. “So maybe you’ll get that war business later, or maybe not. Or maybe you’ll get it and be killed before you ever get to spend the crescents. There’s the potential for a big payday, sure, but there’s the potential for none at all too. What we’re offering is a guaranteed one. Today.”

  Hoskings absorbed everything she had said and scoffed, the grin returning to his face. He asked, “If what he’s peddling is so dangerous, why should I risk goin’ up against it today? You’re making a convincing argument to stay the hell away from whatever this is.”

  “He and his people don’t know how to use it yet,” Kali answered swiftly. “It’s gonna take them—or whoever ends up with it—a lot of time to master it. Seems smart to me to take it from ’em before they can do a damn thing with it.”

  “Sounds like something my crew could use,” said Hoskings.

  “Doubt you want to,” Puk said. “It’s red magic. Nasty shit.”

  Hoskings shuddered at the mention of such magic. Its reputation preceded it. That fantasy was effectively shut down.

  “Look,” the man began, “you make a compelling argument. Like I said, Haratti’s got a hell of a reputation in this city. But so do we. And between you and me, I don’t like the man. I’d be happy to lend our swords to the cause and fuck him over.”

  “I was hoping you’d lend some guns, maybe,” said Puk.

  “Well, either way. For one night of work, four mercs will run you two thousand crescents. Five-hundred more for a fifth. That’s with the friends and family discount,” he winked.

  “Money is no object,” Puk said. “Voya said he’ll handle all that. We’ll take five.”

  Voya groaned, but did not object. The baby cordols had to truly be making his life hell for that price to be worth getting rid of them.

  “Five it is,” said Hoskings.

  “Who’ve you got in mind?” Puk asked.

  Hoskings held up a finger indicating for them to wait, then disappeared into the back room where others were training. He returned a minute later with four mercenaries in tow: one woman and three men.

  “Beatrix?” said Kali.

  The mercenary woman’s face lit up at the sight of Kali. “Hey, it’s you!” she shouted joyfully. “The girl who laid that scumbag out at the outpost!”

  Kali laughed, and Puk rotated his stalks to eye her quizzically. He could not fathom how Kali possibly knew someone in Myrisih, but there would be time to expound on that story later.

  “You two know each other?” Hoskings asked, precisely as confused as Puk.

  “We’ve met,” said Beatrix. “This girl can hold her own in a fight. Stabbed a guy in the arm who was trying to rob her in an outpost. Really fucked him up. I’ve still got his gun!”

  The coincidence amazed Puk, and he couldn’t keep quiet. “She was there when you stabbed that guy?”

  Kali nodded with a smirk. “So this is your retirement?” she said to the woman.

  “I told you it doesn’t suit everyone,” Beatrix winked.

  “I told her she shoulda stabbed that guy in the dick,” Puk told Beatrix.

  The woman laughed heartily and said, “I would’ve enjoyed that, too.”

  “Tho,” said Voya, “I take it they’re twuthtworthy enough for you?”

  “Yes,” Kali answered confidently.

  If Kali had faith in her buddy and the rest of the mercenaries, then that was good enough for Puk. He nodded as well.

  Beatrix and the three men by her side asked Hoskings what the job was, and he quickly explained it was a simple bash-and-grab. Beatrix beamed and asked, “Where’s this going down?”

  Kali spoke up. “We want it done fast,” she said. “Like, right when they carry it away from the meeting spot. Do you know where Haratti holes up?”

  Hoskings shook his head. “He tends to keep his operation pretty well under wraps. Especially from mercs like us.”

  “It’s a place down the alley behind the Rabid Dog,” Puk explained. He described the building as best he could, then added, “If your guys are positioned somewhere near there, they should be able to spot us being led to the right place.”

  “Got it.”

  Kali said, “We’ll go in, sell Haratti the item, get our money, and leave. Then I assume some time later, he’ll need to transport it somewhere else, at which point you guys can swoop in and take it back. Or if they don’t leave, would you be able to bust in and get it?”

  “Sure,” Hoskings nodded. “Doesn’t make a difference to us so long as we’re getting paid.”

  Voya was still flabbergasted by what he was hearing. “You’re okay with thucking him over? You know he’th par’ of—”

  “I know perfectly well,” Hoskings said, cutting him off. “You don’t need to lay out the risks. I know what consequences there’ll be. We’ll do it.”

  “Please no killing, though,” said Kali, surprising Puk. “Only if it’s absolutely necessary, I guess. But I’d rather this not lead to bloodshed, if at all possible.”

  “Seems like a tall order, but we’ll do our best,” said Hoskings. “What’s this object we’re looking for?”

  Kali replied, more to Beatrix than anyone else, “A book. Black, no title on the front.”

  “Ooh. Cryptic,” Beatrix chuckled.

  Hoskings wanted to know when they intended to make the sell, and Puk told the crew that they were planning on going over to the Rabid Dog right when they finished here. He said, “Our goal is to get the hell out of Myrisih tonight.”

  The man clucked his tongue. “That timing’s gonna be tight. No exact schedule, but the port probably won’t be open more than another hour or so. Maybe two.”

  “Are you sure you wanna do this tonight?” asked Beatrix.

  “Or maybe not at all?” suggested Voya.

  Kali was resolute. “Cutting it close is risky, but good,” she said. “Honestly, we wanna give Haratti’s crew the smallest window possible to catch us.”

  The mercenaries raising that concern made Puk somewhat apprehensive, however. He turned and asked Kali, “You sure?”

  They could lay low for a few days, sort out the timeline more precisely. Though staying at Voya’s free of charge was not an option, and he suddenly remembered their previous encounter with Thom, who might still be on the lookout for them.

  “No,” Kali said, “but I haven’t been sure about any of this shit up to this point, so why switch things up now?”

  Hoskings guffawed. He was a fan of Kali’s gusto. Once again, Puk found the man repellant, but he certainly wanted his help in a tussle.

  “Well, then tonight it is!” Hoskings declared. “We’ll trail behind you over to the Rabid Dog. We’ll keep our distance and station ourselves behind the bar to wait. We can all rendezvous back here afterwards.”

  Beatrix had a different plan in mind. “Why not meet down at the docks?” she proposed. “Seems like the best course of action, if they’re trying to sail away before the city’s closed. No time to waste.”

  Her leader nodded, and the plan was sealed.

  All eight of them stepped outside, and Puk felt energized. Part of him was scared out of his mind, but the adrenaline spiking through his small body was giving him a nice kick.

  “Before you go see Hawa’i and get yourthelf killed,” said Voya, “come back to my houthe and take thothe damn cordolth with you.”

  “Sorry, bud, but I can’t!” said Puk, jauntily skipping away. Kali took the cue and raced after him. “No time. We’ve got a meeting to catch!”

  - -

  On their route to the Rabid Dog, they passed countless lively bars, all of which had been closed the last time she’d walked the streets. She gazed in wonder at the different signage posted
on each ramshackle establishment.

  One particularly derelict place was named Kalganax’s, with a squat rectangular sign hanging above its doorway with a crude painting depicting a man smashing a bottle over another man’s head. Not the most enticing image, in Kali’s opinion. She knew based on the name that the joint was owned by a centript, and her guess was that there was some kind of cultural misunderstanding and Kalganax figured, after observing many breaking out for little to no reason, that bar fights were a symbol of comradery and fun nights drinking with friends.

  Another pub a few buildings down was named Crown & Anchor, with the two objects painted in loving detail on its door. It appeared to be more of a dining establishment, with chef’s specials posted on a board outside.

  Yet another was humbly named Bar, and not for the first time Kali found herself questioning how so many places to consume alcohol and eat greasy food could remain profitable in one city.

  Soon they came upon the Rabid Dog, with its ferocious snarling sign and blood-red letters. The text on its sign felt ominous to her now. For a split second she thought the letters might be dripping with fresh paint, bleeding onto the path below, but it was only her imagination.

  Keep your cool, she told herself.

  Up ahead, Puk looked to be unfazed by their current errand. Either he had much more confidence in Hoskings’s crew and the plan than she did, or he was more adept at hiding it. She could practically feel herself shaking in her boots.