by Taki Drake
“You still made a choice. You chose to warn people. You chose to help build the defenses. And you chose to stand with the others when it looked like a battle might be joined.”
“That doesn’t mean anything. I could have been a spy or something.”
“But that’s not who you are.”
“Right. What I am, Mr. Know-it-all is a con man. A thief that fools people into exposing their vulnerabilities or just outright giving me things. I’m not somebody who is trustworthy.”
“That may be true of who you were. But everyone who comes through the door into the BHB is changed. You will find as you stay here that you are in the process of becoming something else. Unless of course, you wish to go someplace away from here.”
The sad, soft comment was almost inaudible, forcing its way past the big man’s lips. It tore another hole in Madrik’s heart. “Where else would I go?”
Unable to stay quiet any longer, Madrik said, “Well, until you decide on either moving on or evolving into some sort of weird higher life form, I sure could use help in the bar. Managing the bar is one thing, but having to deal with all the people and so on is something else. How about if you step in and be my bartender.”
Looking at Madrik in shock, the big man said, “Did you miss the part about me being a con man and a thief? Is that truly the sort of person you want tending your bar? Or did getting pushed into this place make you hit your head and lose your brains?”
Laughing for the first time in what felt like hours, Madrik replied, “I am not too sure how many brains I have left, thank you. Nonetheless, I’m offering you a job. I have no idea what the pay is. I’m pretty sure I can feed you. Just remember that we are making this up as we go along. So, what do you think? Want the job?”
Shaking his head in confusion, the big man said, “Who am I to question the Fates? Having nothing more pressing on my social calendar, I guess I would have to say that I would love the job.”
Madrik and the storyteller raised their drinks in celebration and laughed as the big man stared challengingly at them. Madrik continued to smile as he asked, “Since you’re going to work for me, perhaps I should know your name. Would you share it with me?”
“I suppose, it’s better than ‘Hey You.’ My name is Brechal, and I guess that I am your new bartender.”
Chapter 12 – Hotwash
Madrik was feeling a bit battered. This day was starting to become an entire blur simply because his senses have been overloaded and his body was suffering from a drop in adrenaline levels that accompanied the end of tense and focused action. Sitting around the table talking with the storyteller and Brechal, he was caught in a feeling that this all might be some elaborate dream.
Would he wake up in his empty bed, still smelling the faint perfume of Jenny on the pillow? Would he be facing gray days without purpose? Reassurance from the BHB flooded through their connection, and Madrik felt the return of some small amount of energy. His attention snapped back to the conversation going around him when he heard words that posed a question he had wanted to ask ever since he had seen the interior of the bar.
“I suppose the whole pocket dimension makes sense, but I had never really talked to anyone who’d been in one. The thing that confuses me, however, is what’s with all the doors?” asked Brechal.
The storyteller answered cheerfully, “To understand the doors, you need to understand the force behind the creation of this dimension. I am not going to bore you to tears and explain all the whys and wherefores, let alone the philosophies that went into the decision to create this domain. Suffice it to say that this Badger Hole Bar universe was created by some very powerful beings that wanted a place to solve problems that were too big for one universe to address.”
Brechal canted his head to the side and narrowed his eyes as he thought about what the storyteller had just said. Giving a sharp nod at some private point, he commented, “I would assume then that the doors relate to the problem-solving aspect of the bar’s existence.”
“Exactly! And you will know if the people come into the bar are either part of the problem or part of the solution by the door that they enter through. In the last configuration, the right-hand door was for those that might help solve a problem, while the left-hand door was for those that were desperate for a solution. I am not sure if that’s what will happen again because the shape and dynamic of this dimension have radically changed.”
Madrik inserted his own question in the conversation, saying, “Then the wildcard must be me. Somehow, I have changed everything?”
Somberly, the storyteller looked at Madrik and answered, “Yes, in many ways you have changed everything. Each Anchor provides a different aspect to the entity that they bond with and you bonded with the pivot point of the entire dimension.”
“Ah,” said Brechal, “that is why you cannot project what will happen as this domain evolves. Madrik has set the tone and as he develops, so will the entire area. Is that right?”
“Effectively, yes. Although, the others that he calls to anchor other sentient entities will have their own influence on how this dimension matures. If you think about it, the situation is that Madrik is the special head of a group. His management style and his personal dynamics will mold what goes on here. If he were a cruel man, this would become a difficult place to live. Luckily, that is not who or what he is.”
Madrik had an appalled look on his face. The realization that whatever things he did well or badly would be reflected on whoever else was in the pocket dimension was an incredible burden. Is it too late to run away? he asked himself. A torrent of fear and sorrow flooded the connection bond between him and the BHB. In an immediate response, he pushed back reassurance and embarrassment. It just seems to me that this is a crushing burden and I’m not sure that I’m up to it. The BHB strained to answer him, finally producing the small voice that he had heard once before, << We can do it together. >>
Faced with the unwavering support and the firm belief that he could feel in his companion’s mind, Madrik responded, Yes, we can. And we will.
To the two beings that were sitting at the table with him, Madrik made a simpler, less emotional response, saying sarcastically, “Thanks a lot, guys. There’s no pressure, is there?”
The storyteller laughed, replying, “That’s life. It is what you make it. Sometimes you are dealt bad cards, and you have to play a defensive hand. Other times, you can’t play a card wrong. All that any of us can do is the best we can. I don’t believe you would have arrived here if you couldn’t do what you needed with the BHB.”
Brechal had been sitting with an abstracted look on his face, lost in his own thoughts. As the storyteller quit speaking, his attention seemed to snap back to Madrik. He asked the bar manager, “What is the middle door for?”
“Oh, I forgot that you really don’t know anything about this area. The middle door goes out into the rest of the dimension. It seems to be also changing as the bar rearranges.”
“What you mean?”
“Well, when I first got here the area outside of the door was a greasy sort of nasty fog. Just like the one that I went through on my fall down into the bar.” As Madrik mentioned the fog, he saw the storyteller sit up straight and scrutinize Madrik’s face. The old man opened his mouth to asked something, but looking over at Brechal seem to change his mind, closing his mouth without saying a word. The bar manager made a mental note to ask the storyteller about that subject when the two of them were alone.
Brechal continued the conversation, asking, “How is it changed? And if it’s a nasty fog, how did those other people get into the bar?”
Madrik chose to answer the question somewhat indirectly, saying, “Now when I look outside of the bar, I actually have windows. I didn’t have those before. And from the windows, I can see small garden areas and the first stages of pathways. I haven’t tried stepping outside, but other people are coming in. Perhaps we ought to ask our companion here what he saw on the outside of the bar.”
&nb
sp; Both of the younger men turned to look at the storyteller. The old man had a faint grin on his face as if he knew something that they didn’t. To Madrik, the storyteller was an enigma. He reminded Madrik of a book he once saw with unnumbered pages. There had been no table of contents to indicate what area to look into and no way of referencing what came after what. It was frustrating.
However, the man did not seem to be antagonistic and had gone out of his way to be helpful. That, coupled with the BHB’s evident approval, moved the storyteller into the “provisionally trusted” column as far as Madrik was concerned.
Brechal said, “Well? What did you see outside of the bar?”
The old man responded, “I saw the beginning of paths and roadways. I didn’t realize there was a beginning garden in the back, but that’s a very good sign. When something that grows develops, in the dimension that means that the bar itself is growing. The fact that Emesh and the others could come in through the middle door is frankly astounding. The last evolution of the BHB took more than 20 years to get that far.”
Brechal asked, “Does that mean that Madrik is really powerful?” The bartender looked over at his manager with a skeptical eye. Madrik didn’t look particularly powerful, either physically or by demeanor. He looked like a man in his 30s who had reasonable conditioning but did not physically work for a living. Only when you looked into his eyes could you see that the bar manager was far older.
Until a little while ago, that was exactly what Madrik was. A professional and a white-collar worker who worked his eight hours a day and came home to his loving family.
Madrik didn’t resent Brechal’s question. If their places had been switched, he would have the same skepticism and the same reservations. Unfortunately, he was on the other side of the table, and he could not afford crippling doubts. For better or worse, he and the BHB were connected. Apparently, his position as an anchor was important, and he didn’t want to let his friend down. That was part of what Madrik was, a person who didn’t like letting people down. It just seemed right to him to hold up his own end.
The warm approval from the BHB was a bracing arm behind Madrik’s mind. Feeling the support to his spirit, he knew that whatever went forward, he would not be alone. Smiling to himself, Madrik considered the other two people at the table with him.
First of all, he had just hired a man that could probably pound him into the ground with one hand. Not only was he not intimidated by the movable mountain of flesh, but he could see beyond the scary mask that was Brechal’s face into a center that was far more than even the man himself would acknowledge. Madrik knew that he had a trustworthy friend underneath the stated weaknesses of a felon.
The other man at the table was an enigma wrapped in mystery. Doling out small pieces of information, just enough to keep everyone interested in the story, the man could be infuriating. Madrik suspected that the storyteller had the humor of a mischievous imp. Any information that he got from the old man would have to be considered carefully for hidden practical jokes and amusing detours.
While he had been lost in reverie again, Brechal and the storyteller had continued their discussion. Madrik hurried to try to catch up.
Brechal was saying, “Okay, I got it. The bar is really a living being, and it needs a connection like a symbiont. That role is called an anchor. And the bonding provides advantages to both of them. Once the bar is healthy enough, then it’s little seedlings are going wake up. Each of those is another possible player in this dimension. Each of those is going to take its purpose and attitude from whomever or whatever bonds with it. Did I get all that right?”
The storyteller laughed delightedly, clapping his hand against the shoulder of the huge man, “Exactly. Now that you’ve got it, you understand the whole thing.”
Simultaneously, both Brechal and Madrik said, “Not likely.”
Chapter 13 – First Choices
The three men had talked for a long time. While nothing very substantial was covered, Madrik felt that he understood both of the others a little better. His suggestion that they walk around outside the bar had been met with a significant lack of enthusiasm. Deciding that there is no reason to push it, Madrik had asked the storyteller if he would remain in the barroom so that he could take Brechal up to pick a room.
The storyteller was quite interested in the way that he had phrased that request, although Madrik had no clue what could explain the older man’s heightened attention. However, the old man agreed and pulled out a bag of small, incised stones that he started pouring from one hand to the other. Madrik motioned for Brechal to join him.
Reluctantly, the big man stood up. Madrik almost snapped a sharp response to the slow action but caught himself before he uttered a word. Looking closely at Brechal right now, he could see the exhaustion that lay only partially concealed inside of the other man. It would be a good thing to get him someplace where he could go to sleep, wouldn’t it, he asked the BHB.
A decisive impression of agreement came over his companion bond. When nothing else was contributed by the BHB, Madrik said to Brechal, “Come on man, I need to get you upstairs so that you can figure out which suite of rooms is yours. Then you can get some shut-eye. If something exciting happens, I’ll call for you. But in the meantime, I think you really need to lie down.”
“I’m not some faint little old lady that needs to be coddled!” muttered Brechal.
“That was a boss statement, not a “let’s argue with Madrik” comment,” Madrik responded.
Surprisingly, Brechal did not argue any further. Following Madrik up the stairs, Brechal almost stumbled on a step, grabbing the railing for support. Boy, this guy really needs to go lie down.
As they mounted the stairway, Madrik could tell that the BHB thoroughly approved of Brechal. Some time since he had descended from the bedroom floor to the main floor, the stairway had grown in height, so that Brechal’s impressive figure didn’t even have to duck his head. I guess there are some significant advantages to having a friend that can rearrange the house to suit whoever’s in it.
Stepping out onto the landing, Madrik led Brechal down the right-hand hallway. He said, “Each of the suites is slightly different in configuration. You can pick whichever one you want, and we will get it set up to suit you. If there’s something special that you need, please let me know.”
Brechal came to an abrupt halt. Staring down at Madrik. “You realize that you’re acting like I’m a guest rather than an employee, right? You don’t say those sorts of things to your employees. You are supposed to work them harder than they think they can move and pay them nothing. Did you not get that boss lesson?”
“Obviously I didn’t get that lesson and frankly I wouldn’t have read it if I had gotten it. I don’t think that way, and I hope you can adjust to how I think and how I act.”
Brechal moved further down the hallway toward the first door on the left, muttering only partially under his breath, “It’s just not natural. It destroys the whole order of the universe.”
Madrik smiled and responded to that barely-heard commentary, saying, “My universe, my rules.”
Brechal stopped once more, spinning in place to look down from his 7 ½ foot frame at the much shorter man. “Do you realize how pompous that sounds?”
“Absolutely! And do you realize how amazing that feels?”
“Yes, but it scares me.”
Madrik thought to himself, It scares me, too.
<< <> >>
Madrik had a very enjoyable time escorting Brechal through each of the suites. He found it interesting that the bartender had gone through each of the rooms multiple times looking for some special feature or attribute that he didn’t share with his erstwhile boss. Finally, Brechal decided on the first room he had gone into. It was the first door on the left as someone would move down the hall.
Wondering why the bartender had picked that particular location, Madrik mentally entered “a desire to know” item on the list of things to be figured out later. Appare
ntly, the BHB had known which room Brechal was going to pick before the last go around. There must have been some indication of his preference that Madrik had missed. That was very understandable because Madrik could feel the exhaustion in his own bones as they were walking through the last of the rooms for the third time.
“So, this is the suite you want?” he asked Brechal.
“Yes.” The answer was terse, and Madrik could see the large man swaying slightly on his feet.
They moved closer to the door, Brechal in the lead. When he stopped suddenly, Madrik couldn’t stop his own momentum in time and bounced off the big man’s back. Expecting a sarcastic remark, Madrik was surprised when the man simply stood there, silently.
“Did you know about this?”
Madrik replied, “I don’t know what ‘this’ refers to.”
Brechal moved away from the door and waved his massive hand at a plaque that was fastened to the wall on the right and about eye height for Madrik. Carved into the plaque were just a few words. On the first line, the words were “Brechal Molotch” followed by a second line, “Head Bartender.”
Smiling as he remembered his own shock when the plaque had been placed by his door, Madrik concealed his grin and said, “Sentient building, remember?”
The door opened before Brechal could push on it or even touch the handle. As the big man stepped into what would be his rooms, he muttered, “This is going to take some getting used to.”
Silently, Madrik agreed.
The bar manager heard his bartender take a deep breath. “You said that if there was anything I needed that I should tell you, right?” At Madrik’s nod of assent, Brechal continued, “Some of the furniture will have to be adjusted, or I’m going to break it when I sit on it.”
A spurt of gleeful anticipation shot down the companion bond with the BHB, alerting Madrik to say, “I think you better look around the room before giving me the list.”
Brechal asked, “What you mean?”