by Taki Drake
It gave Madrik a haven when just interacting with people was too much. This was most needed on his dark days when the echo of his daughter’s laughter threatened to drop tears to ease the aching burn of his eyes. Then, he had a place to go and be quiet, a refuge from the hurt of loss.
Chapter 20 – Staff and Anchors
Wynn came zooming past Madrik, on her way between the fireplace and the bar. Flashing the bar manager a smile as she ran, the small woman seemed to be the epitome of energy. Madrik could feel through his companion bond with the BHB that Wynn was like bubbles in the water. Most of the communication between his companion and him involved images. Those that were used to identify Wynn always included a lightness, an energy that was attractive and ultimately satisfying.
Madrik watched as Wynn smiled at Brechal and asked him a question. The huge man looked up from across the room at Madrik and called out, “Hey, Boss, when should we expect the rest of our beer? Wynn has a good point about our selection, and it might be nice if we offered beer and wine tasting as part of the party.”
Madrik responded, “They said they would bring stuff over in a couple hours. Just be ready to get it hauled in because we really need to lay the rest of the finishing touches on.”
“Will do.”
It is really nice having a competent staff, Madrik thought to himself. They work together well and always seem to know in general where the other team members were. It made Madrik wonder if perhaps each of them carried a subconscious map in their own heads on where each of them was in relation to the others. Too bad, he thought to himself, that doesn’t occur for everybody.
Only the people that were part of the Badger Hole Bar staff were on that mental map for Madrik. And the staff was only a small portion of the people that were now either visiting or living in the Badger Hole.
Looking around the room, Madrik saw there were representatives of several other of those groups present already. One of their suppliers, Emesh, was speaking with the cook about the produce that would be used in the meals over the next few days. He certainly wasn’t BHB staff, and he wasn’t a permanent resident. Instead, he represented the sort of people that sold to the BHB, crucial to their survival but not under Madrik’s management.
Over in the corner sitting on the comfortable chairs that had been recovered once more, Wynn was in broad consultation with one of the newest residents of the Badger Hole. It was the Clothier, Genevieve. Unassertive and sometimes astringent, the woman with an eye for line and color, she was a natural ally to Wynn. Her appearance in the Badger Hole had taken Madrik by surprise. The emergence of her as the Anchor to a shop had confused him.
Wynn had started to tease him unmercifully because he had been so injudicious as to say that he could understand why the library had become sentient so quickly. However, Mardrik could not comprehend the justification for a place devoted to clothing. It would not have been a priority for him.
From everything that Madrik could discern from the hints and partial comments that the Storyteller and Emesh had let drop, this pocket dimension had buildings that were living creatures. They had been in hibernation after their Anchors had been killed off, but now they were waking as more energy came into the dimension and as there was a need.
It still didn’t make sense to him why they needed someone to do clothing. After all, couldn’t they just buy what they needed?
That attitude didn’t cut it with Wynn. She had been actually upset with Madrik, and he couldn’t bear to see her hurt or less than happy. The bar manager had given in quickly when she suggested diffidently that perhaps they all needed something special to wear the day of the Grand Opening. He couldn’t argue with her reasoning.
The staff would be happier if they were dressed in a uniform that was both comfortable and branded to show their affiliation with the BHB. Communications would be improved because customers would know with whom to talk.
From his previous experience, Madrik knew the keys to a successful business was excellent service and quality goods, coupled with understanding the market. There were several other good reasons. So he had just said yes.
Brechal had looked at looked at him as if he had betrayed them. Vincent was trying to smother a laugh with both hand and prosthesis, while Alastair just rolled his eyes.
“You realize, that this means they’re going to have to measure us and do fittings. When are we supposed to have that time?” Brechal had asked.
“I’m sure it won’t be that bad.”
Vincent had broken out in rolling laughter, and Brechal had thrown his hands up in frustration. All that had done was to make Madrik more stubborn. Reiterating the reasons that Wynn had presented to him, the bar manager had basically told the guys that they were going to have to wear recognizable clothes. If they didn’t want to be dressed in something that was really bizarre looking, they had better participate.
Madrik never lost track of the fact that he was the BHB’s Anchor. He was the boss and needed to act like one. The bar manager had given in to Wynn, disappointed the male members of his staff, and still felt like he had done the right thing.
His ruminations were interrupted at that point by a flood of approval along his companion bond. That flush of warmth and pleasure was immediately followed by the feeling of a tap so hard that it made his ears ring.
I think that was a “Good boy, Madrik,” immediately followed by a “Whack! Get back to work!”
The bar manager laughed and got back to work. After all, it was pretty hard to hide what you were doing when your companion had hooks in your brain.
<<<>>>
Wynn leaned over the fabric swatches there were spread out across the middle of the table. “Oohhh, I like this one! Wouldn’t that be awesome on some furniture, or maybe even a curtain or two?”
Genevieve smiled in response. Wynn had found her to be not terribly talkative, but the woman certainly knew fabrics and textures. If they had more time, Wynn knew that she would have been teasing the guys about what color or what type of uniforms they were going to end up with. But they just didn’t have enough time to play like that. Instead, she and Genevieve had come up with what they both thought was a good mixture of practical and impressive.
All of them, except for Madrik, would be dressed in a combination of the BHB colors of black, white, and gray. The uniforms would be accented with touches of red. One of the mercenaries that frequented the bar room each night had started his life as an artist and drew them up the perfect stylized Badger icon. Genevieve had faithfully reproduced it as a patch that could be sewn onto things. She had also incorporated it into the design of the uniform shirts.
Understanding the time constraints under which they operated, the two women had been sure to be as efficient as possible about getting measurements and keeping the fittings to a minimal.
The good part was that they been successful. The bad part was that it meant that none of the men knew exactly what they were going to be wearing. All because the guys had not wanted the extra fittings. Wynn knew that she was going to enjoy the looks on their face when they tried their uniforms on and she hoped that Genevieve would be around to see the men’s reaction and how well the design looked in real life.
<<<>>>
Genevieve watched the changing emotions flowing across the face of the small woman across the table from her. The Clothier Anchor was amazed by the way that this woman made her way through the chaos of her life but never seem to lose her cheerful attitude or her belief that everything would turn out all right.
For herself, Genevieve was still adjusting to a new situation and the presence of magic in her life. If someone would’ve told her two months ago that she would be designing clothing for seven-foot men and tiny women, she would’ve recommended that they see a psychologist as soon as possible.
It had taken her while to settle into her shop but now she loved it. Having a companion that shared her love of the textures, drape, and form of fabrics was amazing. She’d been a little worried about the need to create cost
umes for ghosts, but there had little call for that up until now. She knew that would change. Privately, she stilled worried about her ability to fulfill this part of her responsibilities.
In the meantime, she was designing clothing. The design for the Badger Hole Bar staff uniform was so much fun. It let her exercise some of her composition abilities, and she got to work with fabric she’d never seen before.
After a lot of experimentation, she found that as long as she could articulate the characteristics of a textile, it would be supplied. Sometimes, the bolt of fabric would just appear on her worktable. Other times, one of the mercenaries or merchants would come in and offer it to her. It made her believe in magic.
It was an exhilarating experience, something she never would’ve believed could happen. The transition from an under-appreciated position and a boss that stole her work to this total freedom of expression was almost unbelievable.
Even better, tomorrow when the Grand Opening occurred, the fact that she, Genevieve, was the designer for the BHB would be out there for everyone to hear. There would be more work coming her way, and her reputation would grow. It was not going to be on the catwalk in Paris, but the Clothier had arrived, and people would know of her.
Thinking for a moment of the uniforms for the staff and the more formal outfit for Madrik, Genevieve ran through the list of all the things that needed to be done, checking them off one by one. The comfort of her records was vital to her. Today, she was well organized and made sure that she had done everything that she needed to do. There would be no reason for anyone to blame her for any delay.
Smiling with slightly wry amusement, Genevieve thought it was just as well that the sentient building with whom she had bonded was also inhabited by objects with their own intelligence. Otherwise, she would’ve had to try to measure and write down everyone’s measurements, before constructing the garments manually. The laborious process would have made showing off her fashion line that much more difficult.
Suddenly, Genevieve laughed out loud. Her trill of amusement caught Wynn’s attention, and the other woman stared at her for a second before breaking into helpless laughter. This set Genevieve off. Soon, the two women were laughing hysterically with Wynn trying to breathe through her laughter and only managing to give herself hiccups.
Hurrying across the room, Alastair stopped right by the table and asked worriedly, “Are you ladies okay?”
Helpless after that laughter, the two women had looked once more at each other and then turned in unison to stare at Brechal.
The bartender had looked up at their explosion of laughter with a question on his face. When he saw that they were both staring at him, the big man had turned a deep red and hurriedly found something to work on under the bar.
Alastair was still standing by the table looking confused. Wynn trying to communicate with her worried friend, but only managed to choke out a few words, “Brechal. Measurements. Tape measure slithers.” Unable to continue, Wynn began laughing again, holding her sides in an attempt to control her agony.
That slight break had given Genevieve enough time to draw a breath, so she tried to finish the explanation. Managing to get a whole sentence out, the Clothier said, “My tape measures are sentient. So when Brechal came for his measurements, he was a little startled. He also didn’t realize how carefully measurements are taken, as you know and…”
Alastair also blushed a deep red at that point in the narrative. His automatic crouched stance sent both women off into massive peals of laughter. Turning and escaping back toward the bar, the big bouncer was obviously fleeing. Running away. As he got closer to the bar, Brechal happened to stand up and saw the look on Alastair’s face. The crimson flush on both of their faces intensified and the two men, avoiding each other’s eyes, suddenly discovered an urgent need to inspect the storeroom in the basement.
The total rout set the women off again. Unable to even breathe, they were soon gasping for air and trying to calm down.
Everyone else in the bar was giving the women a wide berth. Madrik had looked over at the table but was smart enough not come close to them. There were a couple of mercenaries that had entered the bar and managed to get a drink from Brechal before his inglorious retreat. They were looking naturally curious about what had sent the fearsome bartender fleeing. One of them, a tall female in a skinsuit, wearing a blaster and throwing blades, looked like she might walk over and join the two women.
Genevieve and Wynn had gotten themselves calmed down enough so that their breathing had sorted itself out and their heartbeats were approaching normal. Taking a series of deep breaths, Wynn looked at Genevieve and said, “It is a good thing that you had tape measures to do the measuring for you. I can see how it is much faster. I may want to see if I can borrow them someday so I can get the good measurements of things here in the bar.”
Her voice trembling with the effort that it took to avoid falling into unbridled laughter, Genevieve responded, “You are quite welcome to borrow them. I find it much easier than trying to measure people where it causes them discomfort.”
“I can see that. Although perhaps it might be a good idea for your tapes not to be making comments other than reading back the numbers as they work.”
There was a long pause as the two women looked at each other’s faces, before Wynn’s control cracked and she choked out, “Tentacles!”
Both women dissolved once more into a puddle of laughter and shared amusement.
Chapter 21 – Changing Face of Chaos
Madrik knew that the Badger Hole was changing every day. The mental map in his head continued to allow him to sense which parts of the Badger Hole were alive and which ones were emerging. He could see the chaos field was evolving. When he had first come to the Badger Hole, the swirling gray was sparkled with flowing colors and had been almost touching the outside of the bar. As he and the bar had bonded, the gray field had started to separate, moving further away.
Even before the other buildings woke up, the unformed chaos had been slowly, ever so slowly, retreating. The garden in the back had developed, pushing back chaos in one direction and the street out front had become more evident. When the Dirty Bucket Brewery and the Clothier had shown up, the areas that were defined had become broader and more varied.
Each time one of the sleeping building entities awakened, the chaos was pushed back just a little bit. This left more space and more options. In turn, the Badger Hole became a more viable place to live and work.
Even the other people that frequented the bar seem to be helping establish the dimension. They all came to the BHB for their own reasons, but their presence added to the energy Madrik now knew was essential to the Badger Hole’s existence. It was a building of community and continuity that had a growing momentum. As more people and activity occurred in the Badger Hole, there was more energy for the buildings.
As more of the sentient buildings woke up, the Badger Hole community had more ability to solve problems. The better the problem solution, the more people came. It was something that would continue to build on itself, and Madrik felt deep gratitude and excitement at the idea that this would be a place that could help people.
Whatever sort of being those people were.
Chaos and community. Problems and solutions. Acceptance and caring. What more could anyone ask?
Wynn had left Genevieve at the table and gone back to the tasks that she had to still complete for the day. The Clothier was packing up her fabric swatches and the other samples that she had brought to show the waitress when she was startled by the appearance of a wine glass on the table in front of her.
Looking up, she realized that the bartender, Brechal, had brought it himself. Looking somewhat uncomfortable, the big man said, “It’s a glass of a delicate white wine I thought perhaps you would enjoy.”
“Why, thank you.” Genevieve picked up the glass and sipped. “This is absolutely delightful! Thank you very much.”
“You are welcome. I hope that my intemperate
language of the other day did not upset you too much.”
“No, it is all right. I can understand the reaction to my shop assistants, and I would like to apologize for their tendency of making commentary as they measure. I hope you weren’t too embarrassed or offended.”
Brechal had turned slightly red but was determinedly looking Genevieve in the face as he said, “I understand. And their wording was just surprising, although not terribly offensive.”
Genevieve couldn’t help the small smile that appeared on her lips as she replied, “But very flattering.”
Brechal just flushed a deeper shade of crimson, and the Clothier expected him to leave. When he didn’t, she realized that there was something else going on. “Is there something else that I can do for you?” she asked.
“Ah, well… yes. Sometime when you have an open slot in what you’re doing, might I…”
What on earth? thought Genevieve to herself. She waited in silence as Brechal seemed to be wrestling with something that was stuck in his throat.
Finally, flushing even redder, the big man managed to force words out past the tightness of his throat, “Could I come over and pick out some fabric for some other clothes?”
Pleased, and flattered, Genevieve gave him an accepting smile, “I would be honored to do so.”
Stammering his thanks, Brechal moved quickly back behind his bar to the safety that the furniture provided.
Unable to contain their curiosity any longer, the two mercenaries at the bar got up off their stools and grabbed their drinks. They headed straight for the Clothier’s table and asked her before she could even pick up her wineglass one more time, “May we join you?”
Used to dealing with customers, although not in such a setting, Genevieve immediately responded, “Of course. Please be seated. I would love the company.”
The two mercenaries were very similar in appearance and height. Genevieve thought that they could have been brother and sister, which turned out to be true. Introducing themselves, they confirmed that they were twins, Jarvis and Lenora and that they understood that she was a Clothier. Admitting that she was, Genevieve sat back, waiting for them to come to the point.