Another Stupid Trilogy

by Bill Ricardi

  Ames tapped the tabletop with a claw, absently. “I was in jail for two full seasons. But whenever he was around, Toby would visit. I went from hating him, to thinking he was crazy, to loving him for caring so much. Once I got out, he helped me to find the right people so that I could learn a legitimate skill: Locksmithing. Eventually he would introduce me Rick and Will, because their adventures sometimes involved traps and locks that they weren’t equipped to handle.”

  The feline gestured around. “After a particularly profitable expedition a couple of years back, I financed this place, and those three hopeless optimists helped. And here we are.”

  I thought that ‘here we are’ meant that the story was over, but Ames had actually noticed that food was arriving. The snake meat was still sizzling on the plate. I thanked the waitress as the main dishes and the salads were placed on the table.

  When I glanced back at Ames, there was an set of expectant emerald eyes staring back.

  “Umm, Sorch?”

  I blinked and answered, “Yes?”

  The cat glanced downwards and nodded. “I’m going to need my paw back to eat.”

  I hadn’t even noticed that after Ames’ comforting gesture, I had never untwined my fingers from their forepaw. We had been holding hands for minutes. I flushed a bit and mumbled, “Oh, sorry.” Then I disengaged my fingers from that silky paw.

  Ames canted their head to the side and offered a toothy grin. “Are you?”

  The question hung in the air as we dug into our well spiced meal. But in my own mind I had already answered: ‘Absolutely not.’

  My host informed me that these snakes were actually farmed and bred in some of the caves that bordered the city. Not only were they a good source of meat, but the snakes served as effective pest control for the city.

  After the meal was over, Ames mentioned, “I’ll probably be going out for a few hours tonight. You still look tired from the trip up, maybe you can get a little extra sleep.”

  I canted my head to one side. “Is it anything I can help with?”

  The were-cat shook their head. “I just… I can’t do my normal evening activity that brings in some extra cash.”

  I stared at the feline, blankly.

  “Turning tricks, Sorch.”

  “Oh! Oh.”

  The cat rolled their eyes. “So I’ll be engaging in some unsanctioned bounty hunting instead.”

  I eyed my host. “You mean vigilantism.”

  Ames stuck one fuzzy thumb up in the air. “Now you’re catching on.”

  I shook my head. “Not alone. I’m coming with you.”

  “No. You may be what passes for stealthy in the swamps, but we’re talking about sneaking up on professional thieves. You aren’t equipped.”

  I considered. “I have a spell that creates a zone of silence. I could prepare it.”

  Ames was already shaking their head. “A void of noise is even more suspicious than too much. I’ll be fine. Promise.”

  After dinner, we went our separate ways. I retired to Ames’ room and performed my nightly rituals. But the feline had been correct, some extra bunk time after three weeks on the road was all too welcome. My fatigue overrode the vague sense of worry I was feeling for the were-cat’s dangerous nocturnal activities. Sleep came quickly in that big, comfortable bed.

  I awoke when a chill ran up my spine. It took me a few moments to realize, there was literally something bitingly cold pressed up against my spine.

  I groaned, “Ames, you’re freezing.”

  The shivering feline wrapped frigid arms around my body and placed cold paws on my chest, pressing in close. “Thrown into a snowbank. Warm me.”

  I whined, still half asleep. “Noooo, why?”

  The chattering of feline teeth an inch from my ear was quite the disturbing sound. Ames rumbled, “Don’t be such a baby.”

  I grumbled, but it was only a few minutes of frigid torment. Quickly the blankets, the feline’s fur, and our shared body heat did the job. Ames was once again warm, and I could get some much needed rest.

  In the morning, I was the first awake. It took a surprising amount of effort to escape Ames’ grasp, as the cat grumbled about losing their orcish heat machine. After a few minutes I managed to get out of bed. Still in my underwear, I grabbed the magic pot, soap, and a towel. Then I made my way to the kitchen. Ames was asleep again before I even closed the door.

  No fires had been lit yet as breakfast wouldn’t be served for another hour or so. As I suspected. I filled my cooking pot with water from the hand pump and then activated it with the command word. “Blaze.” I placed it on one of the stone preparation counters, and then transferred the hot water into a bucket. Properly armed, I went to the garderobe for a warm clean up, allowing the soapy water to flow into the sewer hole when I was finished. It would be the cleanest thing that happened in that room all day.

  When I came back, I found a full gaggle standing around the side counter that I had recently used. The kitchen staff was amazed by my self-heating pot, and took advantage of it for the full duration. They added water for tea, for coffee, and finally to boil some eggs. As the provider of the heat, which seemed to be my role in general as of late, I was encouraged to sample all of these things.

  By the time Ames woke up and stumbled out into the kitchen, I was perfectly clean and on the tail end of a nice little breakfast. The feline groaned. “No. Not a morning person. We’re doomed.”

  Eventually the feline caught up to my level of civilization, though Ames chose the simpler breakfast option of black coffee and bacon rashers. I was told to go bundle up, which meant an outing of some sort. “Backpack. No valuables. No weapons.” was the stipulation, which made me think we might be going to some official government building of some sort. Properly dressed and cloaked, the two of us headed out into the city.

  It was snowing lightly in the streets of Ice House. The overcast sky and towering mountains blocked quite a bit of the natural light. Compared to the morning of our arrival, the place looked like a ghost town. Wisely, those who could stay indoors did stay indoors. We plodded west along the promenade.

  As we approached the gaping cave known as the West Gate, I started to have a sneaking suspicion that we weren’t going to a swanky government building after all. Torches greeted us rather than attendants garbed in silk robes. Those who passed us in the other direction generally wore scowls rather than rehearsed smiles.

  We proceeded to exit the main cavern, which was generally occupied by mineral, gem, and coal merchants as well as their entourages. A narrow, serpentine passage brought us to a smaller cave. Perhaps the word ‘den’ applied. Den meaning ‘den of thieves’ in this case, rather than the home of a particular animal... though I wouldn’t be surprised to see a semi-tamed wolf or two in someone’s possession. If anything, our arrival inspired even more scowls. Ames ignored the vast majority of people, and they didn’t get in our way. The were-cat knew exactly where we were going. I hoped.

  We arrived at a small nook on the southern side of the den, where there was a were-wolf wearing an patch over his left eye, sitting behind a large table of wares. The lupine’s gray fur was patchy in places, likely the result of old burns of some sort. His bodyguards were massive, muscled humans. Each of the guards was holding a studded iron kanabo in front of them. I had no doubt that these brutes could go from leaning on their two handed clubs to swinging them at our heads in a split second. Needless to say, I was on my best behaviour.

  “Ames.” drawled the lupine merchant. His tone was a study in disinterest.

  “Malachi.” rumbled my companion.

  The two were-creatures eyed each other for a few pregnant moments. Then the lupine sighed. “What? What do you want?”

  “Striped corobane. Adder venom. Coca leaves.”

  Malachi made a ‘tsk tsk’ sound. “Oh my dear kitten. Being naughty again.” The merchant opened a small trunk under his table. “This drains your account with me, and then some. You gonna pay the balance the u
sual way?”

  Ames grit their teeth and remained silent for a moment. Just as I was about to say something that I might regret, the cat nodded curtly. “Fine. But you’ll have to send them over after the expedition. And if I die, they can too for all I care.”

  The wolf shrugged. “You’re a survivor. I trust you to save your own hide first and foremost.” He brought out a series of packages wrapped in some kind of thin vines. “Contact me when you’re back.” Something about his dry tone implied that he would know even if he wasn’t informed by Ames. I was catching on quickly: This was the sort of man to have eyes and ears in a lot of places, particularly in somewhat seedy clubs and bars such as The Spastic Vole.

  Not another word was shared between them. Ames passed half of the packages over to me, and I quickly stowed them in my backpack. The feline stowed away their half, gave Malachi a curt nod, and then led me back the way we came.

  “Can I assume those were poisons?” I asked, once we were somewhat closer to civilization. I couldn’t help but allow a slight tone of distaste to creep into my tone.

  Ames didn’t seem to care about my feelings on this particular matter. “Two of them, yes. Another is a healing and pain relief drug. It can be addictive however, and must be used in moderation.”

  I grunted. “And the ‘usual way’ that you plan to pay him?”

  The feline sighed. “He has clients in an out of town on a regular basis. I entertain a select number of those clients in bed.”

  I nodded. “I figured as much.” I tried to keep my tone neutral, but possibly didn’t succeed.

  Ames pressed, “You don’t approve? You can call me a whore you know, you wouldn’t be the first.”

  “I never said that.”

  The cat practically snarled at me, “I enjoy sex. I’m good at it. And if that particular talent helps me to keep the Vole open, I’m going to use it.”

  I remained calm in the face of Ames’ anger, “I’m not belittling you.”

  Ames pushed me up against one of the cave walls, and put that fuzzy white muzzle right in my face. “Good, because this is my city, and you’re just a guest here. It isn’t your place to pass judgement on our ways. Bad enough I have to babysit without you getting out of line.”

  “If I’m being a bad boy, maybe I deserve a spanking.”

  The slightly bewildered expression on the were-cat’s features was quite satisfying. Ames grumbled and then took a step back, freeing me from being pinned against the cold stone.

  I murmured, “It’s your life Ames, I’m just trying to understand it.”

  The feline nodded slowly. They took me gently by the shoulder and led me back out of the cave system. The sun was doing its best to cook away the clouds above Ice House. So far it had turned the snow into a light hail, hardly an improvement.

  Rather than make our way back to The Spastic Vole, Ames lead me south, towards the huge greenhouses that helped to provide food for the locals. If I had any doubts that these structures were summoned by magic, close inspection laid those doubts to rest.

  The front of the structure had no door as such, just a rectangular gap. Wooden frames had been constructed just inside and outside of the greenhouse, and thick carpets hung down to provide a sort of barrier between the outside air and the inside of the building. As I ducked under the first set of rugs, I glanced off to one side. Impossibly, the glass wall was about half a pace thick.

  Once we walked into the place, the sheer absurdity of the existence of such a thing struck my mind. It could only be created through the ancient magical building rituals performed by the northern Elves. Tons of thick, perfectly formed and perfectly clear glass encased us. It was over two hundred paces east to west, and over one hundred north to south. The only gaps in the structure were the east and west entrances, and a small square gap in the very center of the roof. A spiral staircase led up to the gap, so that the workers could clear any snow or debris off of the roof.

  “It allows for proper airflow as well as maintenance. We even have gutters. The stairs actually spiral around a pipe that we use to collect fresh water when it rains or snows.”

  I quickly shifted my gaze back to ground level to see who had addressed me. Standing before us, garbed in a bright orange robe and open toed sandals, was a blonde elf. He was short for his race, and dare I say quite a bit more friendly and outgoing than the elves I had encountered thus far.

  Ames asided, “He’s not a mind reader, he’s just been answering the same questions and giving the same tour for twenty years.”

  The elf shuffled right up to the feline. He stood on tiptoes to kiss the cat on the cheek. “Twenty three now. And with nary a complaint. It’s good to see you Ames.”

  She returned the gesture with a little nuzzle across the elf’s left temple. “Good to see you, hierophant Petrinoth.”

  The man dropped back to his normal height, weight rocking back to his heels. “Peter is fine, please.” A hand was extended in my direction next. “And this is?”

  I quickly took and shook the proffered hand. “Sorch, sir. Might I say that this place is amazing.”

  I still hadn’t gotten used to that reaction. The surprised, often pleased or bewildered reaction when someone hears an orc speak in complete sentences. Peter’s face went through half a dozen levels of surprise and amusement, before settling on a broad smile.

  “And you are perfectly welcome to tour it, my dear Sorch. Please, both of you, walk with me for a while. I’m just checking up on the little ones.”

  As we walked, the hail could be heard ‘tick’ing off of the thick glass. Hierophant Petrinoth’s ‘little ones’ were potatoes. As he explained, “Each greenhouse is assigned a crop that they should focus upon over a two year period. Other then the small herb gardens you see dotted around the place, everything in here is potatoes. We use vertical planting tricks with certain crops to increase yields. For example, you’ll see that we are building wooden potato ‘towers’ all along the edge of the greenhouse. When the plants poke through, we add another layer of soil, which makes another layer of potatoes grow, and so on. We need to make very efficient use of space, since we have a whole city to feed.”

  I couldn’t help but smile. The elf reminded me of Shaman. They shared the same enthusiasm for nature. Shaman would have loved the duality of this place. Outside was frigid and hailing, but in here you would swear it was a warm summer’s day. Outside was lifeless, but inside it was teeming with plants and worms and insects. I realized that I was missing what the elf had to say, and made an effort to hear the end of his speech.

  “When our two years of potato farming is over, we’ll shift to carrots, and then beans, and so on. With the proper fertilizer processed from the city’s sewers and garbage, the soil is kept in peak condition for our chosen crop.”

  At this point, we were in a more secluded corner of the greenhouse. Potato towers surrounded us on two sides, and crates of potatoes ready to be shipped were piled up behind us. Ames asked, “Peter, will you be able to keep shipments up to my staff while I’m away? I’ll make payment in full upon my return.”

  The small elf waved his hands, as in if batting away any lingering concerns. “Of course. Don’t worry about a thing. Let them know that they should come see me if they have a rush on something, I’ll coordinate with the other managers to cover any emergency shipments required. Oh, you’re still available to pose for my next painting upon your return?”

  The feline nodded. “Yes, I look forward to it”

  Hierophant Petrinoth rubbed his hands together. “Excellent. The order has already given me permission to let you use the Autumnal robes. It will be lovely.” He flashed a smile to each of us in turn. “Well, I must attend to my duties. Please show yourself out the back when you’re done. Del-Nekbenth’s blessing upon you both!” He gave us a deep bow, and then wandered off.

  Ames and I looked at each other for a moment. Then I said, amused, “You’ll look good in orange.”

  The fluffy feline smirked, sharp
teeth flashing from just one side of their muzzle. “I will. But it’s actually a big deal to them. Each druidic dioceses has a seasonal painting that they hang in their grand temple. I was flattered to be selected.”

  I reached out to stroke the fur of Ames’ neck. “They could hardly go wrong in selecting you as an example of natural beauty.”

  I hadn’t seen a were-cat blush until that moment. The inside of Ames’ triangular ears turned a nice shade of beet red, and then folded back as in if to hide the reaction. “Thanks.” the feline rumbled. “Um. We should get going. The hail has stopped, but who knows for how long.”

  As we were heading out the back door, as instructed, we were stopped by a greenhouse acolyte. The young human girl curtsied, and then presented a small package to Ames. “Compliments of the Order. May Del-Nekbenth bless you and keep you.” We thanked the druidic lass, and then ducked under the curtains to make our way back out into the cold.

  Before we walked through the outside curtains, Ames took a moment to sniff the cloth covered package. Those feline eyes widened, and their pupils narrowed to thin slits. “Oh… oh my.” the cat murmured.

  I blinked. “What’s wrong, are you alright?”

  Ames swallowed. “F-fine. This isn’t just a normal package of herbs. I… it has catnip. It might be all catnip.”

  I frowned, then leaned in for a sniff. It smelled like old mint to me, nothing more. “Okay. Should I carry it for you?”

  The feline quickly gave me the package. “Yes, that might be best for the moment.”

  I slipped the little bundle into my backpack, and then we made our way back to the Vole. The lunch crowd was just starting to arrive. Ames didn’t have time to protest as I offered to help out in the kitchen once again. The cat had to quickly get ready for a matinee performance. I heard the whistles and catcalls from the rowdy crowd as I scrubbed pots and flatware. I felt a surge of something that I couldn’t quite place. Envy? Jealousy? Maybe something else. I pushed it to the back of my mind and set about the task at hand.

  When the midday rush had ended, I was more than ready for my afternoon nap. Ames wanted to blame my soporific habits on the fact that I was an early riser. But the cat knew full well that rest was required to recharge magical capacity.