Big Trouble

by Andrew Seiple

  And then, Chase turned her steps to the Dewdrop Inn.

  She had little cause to venture here, most days. Few of the halvens who dwelled in Bothernot did. The inn was for travelers heading up or down the main road, visiting relatives, or for the few royal officials who had business in town. It was a human couple who ran the place, an elderly pair who’d had plenty of excitement in their youths, and declared quite often that they enjoyed Bothernot’s slower pace.

  One of them was mopping the floors as Chase pushed through the main door. The lady of the house, Florenzia Dijetto. The gray-haired woman straightened up as Chase entered, looking at her through spectacle-covered eyes. “Welcome! You’re Stem Berrymore’s little girl, aren’t you?”

  “One of them,” Chase smiled up at the towering lady. She had tried pestering Florenzia for stories once she was old enough to be curious about the outside world. But Mrs. Dijetto never spoke of the past and had some serious conversational skills. No matter how Chase tried to wheedle information out of her, the grandmotherly woman always managed to distract her and turn the talk to village business, harmless gossip, or various pleasantries.

  Chase had gained willpower and perception from trying to manage Mrs. Dijetto’s conversations now and again. But it had been over a year since she’d spoken to her last. She thought about honing her mind, trying for more social experience from the lady— no. No, she had bigger pies to bake, here.

  “Is the Camerlengo here yet?”

  “Hm? Oh my goodness, no, dear. You couldn’t miss it if she was, that carriage is huge.”

  “Oh. Uh.. can I wait for her?”

  “Of course. Just don’t bother the paying customers, hm? It’s fair time, and they need to rest up before the big event tomorrow.”

  There were only a few customers. Just a small gaggle of halvens occupying the center table, working their way through brunch... and the much-larger figure of a human, back before the fireplace, bedecked in dusty robes and what looked like a half-ton of jewelry.

  There was a story there, but Chase had no time for it, so she nodded and smiled to Mrs. Dijetto. “I’ll be no trouble,” she promised.

  She settled back into a corner table, watched the door, and waited. Mrs. Dijetto brought her a cold cup of water, and she sipped it, waiting.

  But the human traveler kept glancing at her. His eyes were white against his nut brown skin, browner still than Chase’s coppery hue. She made eye contact once, then looked away, but it didn’t deter him. “Hmmm...” he said, and his voice was deep and pleasant.

  It should have made her feel uncomfortable, but instead it just irritated her. She had a job to do! Once the Camerlengo showed up, she could do it, then leave this nosy stranger to his drinking.

  “I wonder,” a warm, rich voice whispered into her ear, and Chase jumped. Somehow, he’d snuck up next to her!

  Except he hadn’t.

  When she whipped her head around and jumped out of her chair, he was sitting right at his table, and he wasn’t even looking at her.

  The other halvens in the room were, though, and Chase cleared her throat, embarrassed. “Sorry,” she said, and settled back into her chair again, feeling blood rush to her cheeks.

  The man laughed, and she glared at him. Distantly she hoped that the other halvens would intervene, tell this weird human to stop harassing her. But no, they were turning back to their meals now, ignoring both of them.

  “Come on over, dear girl,” the human said, beckoning with one wide-sleeved arm. “We have much to discuss.”

  “I’m fine where I am, thank you very much,” she said, biting the words off.

  He considered her for a moment.

  And then the human smiled.

  Chase had seen every sort of smile there was to see. She had seen happy smiles, from her sister when they played together as children. She had seen mocking smiles, when the other kids teased her for reading books and trying to get smarter. She had seen tolerant smiles from the old folks when she talked about growing up and leaving the village. And she’d seen strained smiles from her mother whenever her father got in his cups and referred to Chase as the closest thing to a son he’d ever have. Chase had even seen a sad smile once, at Gram’s funeral, when her mother had whispered something to the grave that only Chase had heard, and walked away without a tear.

  All those smiles paled, like torches before the sun, in the strength of the stranger’s grin. It was warm it was happy it was every shade of friendliness and comfort and joy, all rolled up in one.

  Before she knew it, Chase had made her way over to the stranger’s table, pulling up a halven-sized chair and sitting in front of the low fire. She stared up at him, getting a good look for the first time.

  Dark-skinned and slightly fat, his face was round, and he had black hair. His mane was tied back in elaborate braids tipped with metal rings of all sorts. He wore more rings on thick fingers, and his nails were immaculate. His robes were overlapping shades of purple with green stripes in unusual places, seemingly chaotic but forming patterns once you stared at them long enough. Necklaces of all kinds, ranging from strands of pearls to simple twists of copper wire braided together sat on his chest, various medallions and ornaments peeking out from the chains and strings and beads.

  And his eyes were warm, rich brown, pools of deep water that studied her from top to bottom, staring in open curiosity. Not like the boys of her own age, who ogled her with lust when they thought she wasn’t looking, but more like a farmer sizing up a cow.

  It should have been insulting, but it somehow wasn’t. All her instincts told her that this man didn’t have a hint of meanness in him.

  “I’m Chase Berrymore,” she said, as the silence stretched on. “Pleased to meet you.”

  “People call me Hoon, sometimes,” the large human said and tilted his head to the side, as if waiting.

  “Oh, that’s an interesting name,” Chase said.

  The man’s eyes crinkled in amusement. He chuckled, and took a pull from a big mug, glancing over to the fire. “And I am very pleased to meet you Chase Berrymore. You know... it seems to me that name is familiar. The last time I was through here, I sold a trunk of books to a man named Berrymore.”

  “Trunk of books... my grandad had a trunk of books!” Chase babbled, vaguely aware that she was sharing a lot of information with a stranger... but she didn’t see what harm it could do, really, and she might as well talk with a friendly face while she was waiting. “I used to spend rainy days reading through all of them. They were mostly about heroes and far-off places. There was this one series in there, dozens of books about Jinkies the Jongleur, this Bard who was always getting into trouble that led to big adventures...”

  She went on, talking about the books that had made up a very large part of her childhood, and the man’s smile grew, and grew. “Yes! Those are definitely the books I sold Mister Berrymore!” he finally declared. “Now I understand why I did it!”

  That derailed Chase’s train of thoughts and brought a new notion to the surface.

  “Wait a minute. Grandad had those books for a couple of decades before I got to them,” she frowned. “That was... at least thirty or forty years ago, something like that?” She studied Hoon again. Humans were a bit odd, but still, their aging wasn’t supposed to be much different from halvens. “Forgive me for saying so, but you seem a bit young for that.”

  WIS+1

  Chase clapped her hand over her mouth. She’d leveled wisdom, just like that! Something was going on here. She glanced up at Hoon again, ears quivering. Suddenly his smile seemed off, just a bit. Chase remembered how all her irritation had vanished when he’d turned his grin her way.

  I’m bespelled. Or something else is going on here.

  “You look afraid,” Hoon said, rubbing his chins. “Have I said something wrong?”

  “No! No, uh... thank you for the books,” she said. “I was just surprised that, uh, you weren’t older.”

  “I am older than I look. Just lucky th
at way. Lucky in general, actually. Would you care to see if you are lucky, too?” He leaned in closer.

  Chase’s mouth outran her brain. “If that’s a pickup line then you should know that I’m fifteen and not interested in humans, sorry.”

  That stunned him. His mouth fell open, and he leaned back, laughing and slapping the table with one hand, setting the necklaces on his chest a-jingle.

  Chase flushed and eyed the door. The goodwill she’d felt to the man was gone, and she wondered if she should call for help, or run away. Something was going on here, and though she didn’t know what, her instincts were telling her she was outmatched. It was time to cut her losses and escape.

  “Here now!” Hoon said. “None of that, if you please!”

  He’s reading my mind!

  She pressed her hands against the table, pushing back, sending the chair clattering, feet already moving—

  —and she felt his hand grab her wrist, bringing her to a halt.

  Chase opened her mouth to scream...

  “Oh damnation,” Hoon sighed.

  And everyone in the room stopped moving.

  The halvens around the tables, who were starting to turn around, simply stopped in place.

  Mrs. Dijetto was caught in the act of leaning the broom against the wall, frozen in place and hunched over. The hem of her dress, rustling from the motion, defied gravity and stayed swung slightly to the left.

  Chase shot a look around at Hoon, who rolled his eyes, and released her. She stumbled and fell—

  —and for a brief moment she hung in midair, her backpack caught on something, the straps digging into her shoulders, the pain of the impact forcing her breath out in a yelp.

  RIP!

  Suddenly the resistance was gone, and she fell to the ground, blinking upward...

  ...at the frozen fox toy, hanging in midair while her card case hit the ground, spilling pasteboard rectangles all around her.

  Fear filling her, eyes bulging, ears flat back against her head, Chase looked up at as Hoon rose from his chair, only to squat down next to her, offering a hand.

  “Who are you?” Chase whispered.

  “That, Chase Berrymore, is the wrong question.”

  “Then what’s the right question?” Her voice sounded plaintive, even to her own ears.

  “The question should be, what are you? And the answer, Chase Berrymore, is a god. I am the god Hoon, and we have quite a lot to discuss.”

  CHAPTER 4: O FORTUNA

  Chase stared up at the man... the god?

  He could be mad. But madmen generally didn’t have the power to freeze the world.

  She stretched her arm up, took his hand, and let him help her to his feet.

  He let go of her once she was up and cast a sad look towards her pack. “Ah, I’ve gone and caused damage to your possessions. Here, let me fix that.” He fiddled around with his rings, then touched the scraps of the pack on her shoulder. “Activate Mend.” The pack rebuilt itself in an instant.

  “I suppose,” Chase said, still not quite willing to believe that a god was right there in front of her, “the next question would be what do you want from me?”

  “Again, you ask the wrong question,” Hoon said, returning to his chair, and motioning her to the one she’d just vacated. He stared over to the crackling fire, squinted at the fox toy caught in midair, and took a pull from his mug. “Not sure what my brother’s up to, here.”

  “What?”

  Hoon smiled at her. “Still the wrong question.”

  “And what’s the correct one?”

  “The correct question is what can I do for you? And the answer is, lots. If... you go through with what you were planning.”

  “I... I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “You do, you just don’t want to admit it. Not yet, anyway.” Hoon smiled. “Bear in mind, the only thing I want from you is for you to be yourself. That will serve my purposes just fine.”

  Chase flushed and looked down.

  Oddly enough, though the situation was weird, the tension was high, and her emotions were running the gamut between fear and confusion, the words felt good.

  For the longest time she’d heard only things like “Why can’t you be like your sister,” and “you had best start thinking about the future and change your ways,” or even “you’ll grow up in time.”

  To hear someone say, to have someone suggest that she was fine being herself... well, that was something, faint encouragement though it may be.

  One of the cards caught her eye on the floor. A young man in mismatched clothing, upside down. An ember popped from the fire and landed near the pasteboard, and she gasped, jumped down, and started gathering the cards up.

  “Oh! Fortuna cards!” Hoon exclaimed, and happily knelt down next to her, helping her get them away from the risky flames. “I love these things! They’ve gotten me laid so many times!”

  Chase stared at him, and he grinned back. “I am still not flirting with you,” he clarified. “You ARE too young, after all. But here, since I have made you uncomfortable, allow me to offer a gift to make it up to you. Do you know how to use Fortuna cards?”

  “Gram always said they were story cards,” Chase said, regaining her seat, and putting the wooden case on the table. “You lay them out and you tell a story. She used to tell all sorts of stories with them. It was... good.”

  “That is one use, certainly. But they have another. The cards can tell you about the future, or the past, or anything you care to ask about.” Hoon’s fingers danced, and somehow the cards that Chase had replaced in the case were now added to the ones he’d collected. They riffled and snapped, waltzing back and forth and around his fingers, before he put the deck down on the table. “Shuffle them, if you would. Just let your mind wander, while you do so. Give them to me when you feel that you are done.”

  Bemused, she followed his instructions, then watched as he dealt one out.

  “This card is you, Chase Berrymore.”

  It was the youth with mismatched clothes, looking confused with life and standing in an uncertain pose. The title on the card declared it to be “The Noob.”

  Hoon continued, his rich voice filling the still room. “You have a journey ahead. A new path. It might not be a physical journey, but one of understanding... a new path in life does not always require travels, although the best ones often do.” He smiled. “I may be a bit biased there, though. I am the god of travel and trade, you see.”

  “Of course,” Chase said. Whether he was actually a god or not, it seemed like a good policy to humor anyone who could stop time. She flicked her eyes over to the table full of unmoving halvens, then back again, hopefully before he could notice.

  But he was already turning over the next card, putting it above the Noob. This card was a raging fire with a face, consuming a forest and laughing about it. Various small animals fled for their lives around the edges of the card. This card was upside down, and Hoon nodded as if he’d expected to see it.

  “The Elemental, but it is reversed,” Hoon said. “A big disaster that has nothing to do with you and no personal feelings... best avoided or met with unwavering devotion to your fight. At least, it would be if it weren’t reversed.” He sucked on his teeth for a bit. “This card is what will happen if nothing changes. You will be consumed, caught up in the troubles. And because it is reversed, you are especially in danger. You may not get a chance to redo it if you choose wrongly.”

  Chase blinked. “It’s that bad? Will the Camerlengo help?”

  “The what now? Is he an ally of sorts?”

  “She.”

  “Well, you are in luck, because the next position to be filled is the position for friends, allies, and other influential figures.” He flipped the card and set it down to the left of the Noob. “This one is reversed also?” He said, eyebrows lifting.

  The card showed a regal man sitting at a desk, holding a glowing contract with one hand and offering a hand to a crowd of people dres
sed in similar fashion to the noob’s. To the other side of the desk a line of people dressed in matching tabards walked out a door, swords out and ready for trouble. “The Guildmaster is a symbol of authority, someone who’s in charge and responsible,” Hoon mused. “Sometimes it can refer to a hierarchy, or a greater order to matters. But reversed... you’ve got someone who’s shirked their authority or lost their rightful spot at the top of the pile. Your best ally to survive the coming disaster is a king without a castle, it would seem.”

  “The Camerlengo isn’t a noble, she’s a servant of a noble,” Chase pointed out. “She checks us to make sure we’re following the law of decades and swears in new subjects for Lady Floria when they turn sixteen.”

  “The law of decades?” Hoon asked. “Something tells me I’m going to hate this, but can you sum it up for me?”

  Chase thought for a moment. “We are permitted only one job for every ten years of our life. If we exceed that, we must pay heavy taxes or go to jail.”

  Hoon snorted. “Yes, I was right. Two of my least favorite things, all up in one! Stupid laws and taxes. Ah. Well, no sense complaining about that. The next card position will detail the crucial choice, at the heart of your situation...”

  The next card went below the Noob and was also upside down. It portrayed a soldier wearing an officer’s badge, nervous and facing an onrushing enemy charge. But he stood fast, and his men were behind him, readied to meet the attack.

  “The page of warriors!” Hoon said. “I was wondering if you had any minor arcana in here. Now this is normally a good card, but... like the others...”

  “He’s reversed,” said Chase, folding her arms.

  “Now you’re getting it! Reversal isn’t always a bad thing, but in this case, in this position, it’s indicating a bad choice. You will be called upon to fight, to help others fight, or something like that. And if you choose poorly, it won’t go well for you. Or anyone else for you.”

  “I don’t know the first thing about fighting!”

  “Oh, that’s easy! The first thing is not to die.”