A Fist Full of Sand
Page 7
Biting back a startled shriek, I swatted at it with the lantern, madly trying to brush it away, dancing and jerking as I tried to dislodge it from my body. Playing Bloody Knuckles with lightning fast, venom tipped insects is bad enough when they aren’t actively attached to your body and trying to crawl inside your clothes, and thus ensued a few moments of completely unscientific clawing and scraping, while I used every desperate reflex I possessed to stay one step ahead of the red tipped mandibles. Swat, swipe, stab, twist, jerk away! The light strobed as I heedlessly used the lantern as a weapon, and if I had been any less deft I would certainly have stabbed myself with my own dagger. Swat, swipe, stab, twist…. This is unsustainable. Either I’m going to get lucky, or it is. Jerk away. My entire left hand was numb. Swat, swipe, stab, twist…
I got lucky first. It crawled over my arm and I managed to fling it to the floor, where it landed upside down. Sting quickly! I continued the momentum of my arm and buried my dagger to the hilt between the segments of its body and deep into the packed earth floor underneath it. Panting, I jumped back away from its death throes, but didn’t dare sit down. How many of these things ARE there?
Instead, I went to retrieve my thrown dagger, keeping a wary eye out for the first, now injured, centipede. My dagger was lying in a dusty corner behind the boxes. Unwilling to reach my hand into the unseen, narrow space, I braced myself against the crate and pushed. It didn’t move easily (dumped Strength, huh?), but eventually slowly slid away from the wall, revealing my dagger and a cluster of leathery egg shells. Carefully, I picked up my dagger and used it to poke at the remains of the hatch.
[Hunting check: Success]
Five spherical shells, all empty, looked like they had been chewed out from the inside.
[Bugs in the Basement: Quest update!]
[Exterminate the centipedes: 2/5]
said Voice. <2 down, 3 to go.>
I hoisted my dagger in my right hand, neatly flipping it over to pinch it by the blade. “Let’s make it three down, two to go, eh?” I said, threw the dagger, and watched in dismay as it missed. The startled centipede scurried up the box tower and through a crack in the ceiling, into the clinking crystalware and polite laughter above.
“Oh shit.” I scurried to retrieve my weapon. “Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit. Isha is going to kill me.”
Dagger in hand, I ran out of the storage room and back up the basement stairs, then threw open the door and spilled out onto the patio. I set the lantern down and had to uncurl my senseless and swollen fingers from the handle with my other hand. No time to worry about that now.
Isha was nowhere in sight. Marrisa was carefully ladling a savory smelling soup into bowls, her back to me. I ran for the dining room door and about collided with a girl coming through the other way, her arms full of dishes. She stifled a shriek as I bounced off her, the pile of dishes wobbled, and the topmost teapot teetered over, tumbling as it fell towards the tile floor. I reached out and caught it before it could shatter.
[Dexterity check: Success]
“What are you doing?” the girl hissed at me, shutting the door behind her with one deft foot. She looked like a younger and taller version of Marissa.
“I’ve got to get out there!” I cried. “There’s a huge centipede on the loose!”
“You can’t go anywhere dressed like that!” She gave the sum total of my wardrobe a look of disgust. “Do you know who’s here tonight? The Senator and her wife and the senior members of her cabinet, that’s who! If they see you or a huge… bug… of any kind, we’ll get shut down forever!”
The girl turned to set the tray of dishes down by one of the sinks. I looked around the room and spotted a white coat hanging on a row of pegs to my right.
[Perception check: Success]
It was the same design as the one I had seen on Ishàmae, but sized to fit someone like Marrisa. I grabbed it off the wall and wriggled into it. On me, the coat was a starched white, double-buttoned tent that came down to my ankles, the sleeves just long enough to cover the tips of my fingers. Perfect.
I grabbed a tray like the one the girl was carrying, set my teapot on top of it for some sort of legitimacy, and bolted through the door before she could object further.
The dining room was an elegant affair. The tablecloths gracing the garden earlier were now neatly draped over half a dozen small tables which hosted between two and four people each. On the far wall by the fireplace, several tables had been pushed together, seating a larger group of well-dressed politicians. Vaulted ceilings reflected back laughter and murmured conversation. Multi-paned windows held back the damp night, but pots of exotic flowers and flowing greenery brought the best of the garden indoors. The cheerful fire helped light the room, assisted by half a dozen frosted glass lanterns nestled amongst the greenery, and a small candle floating in a bowl on each table.
I scanned the room for slithering yellow and red, but saw nothing. It probably crawled underneath one of the tablecloths. I thought. Centipedes like to be under things. I pulled up a mental map of the basement and superimposed it over this room, trying to figure out where exactly the centipede had emerged. Somewhere over there, I think.
The kitchen door swung open, and I set off before Marrisa or her daughter could haul me back inside. A few people gave my tent-coat and teapot a raised eyebrow, and behind me I felt the serving girl glaring daggers at the back of my head, but no one said anything.
A hand reached out and grabbed my sleeve.
“Excuse me,” said a young man, slightly drunk. “Have you anything besides tea?”
“Umm.” I replied, buying time to think while I repalmed my dagger, before he could notice how close he came to losing a finger. I steadied the tray on my numb hand. “We have, uhh, wines. In bottles.”
This did not suffice, judging by the stares from around the table. “Vintages.” I elaborated.
“Splendid!” said the young man after an awkward beat. He didn’t seem to notice. Instead he sat back, raising his voice slightly, and gestured to his friends. “We would like something to go with our appetizer. What do you recommend?”
I thought fast.
“The uhh, Silverthorne Valley is very fine, with…” I glanced at the bowls of light soup. “…fish. Lobster. Fishy things.”
“Really.” He actually sounded interested. “I didn’t know there were any Silverthornes left. Since the valley was destroyed by that fire.”
“Yup.” I tried to put all of the confidence I had into my voice. “But this one is from the year of the Falling Star.”
The young man went instantly from slightly snobbish to very impressed. He waved a hand, dismissing me. “We’ll take it.”
Suddenly inspired, I took a deep bow from the waist, and while I was down there I pulled up the edge of the tablecloth and peeked under. No centipedes. “I’ll be right back.” I told him, and moved onto the next table.
“Tea?” I asked the two beautifully dressed ladies.
“Please.” replied the one in green.
I hadn’t actually expected them to say yes. I took the teapot by the handle and poured it into one of the empty glass goblets waiting on the table. When it was full to the brim, I began on the next glass, but only made it halfway before the tea ran out in a muddy spill of tea leaf detritus. “Oh, look, all empty.” I told the astonished ladies. “How about I go get some more?” I made another one of my elaborate bows, lifting the edge of the tablecloth with the spout of the teapot. Nothing under there but petticoats.
“Pardon me, Senator, my lady.” said the serving girl, grabbing me firmly by my coat and marching me backwards. “I need to borrow my assistant for one minute.”
My full hands foiled my natural reflex to go for my daggers, which was probably all to the good, even if I was beginning to not like this girl very much.
“
Oh,” murmured the lady in green. “In a Bordeaux glass, how very unusual…”
“You.” My fellow waitress addressed me through the gritted teeth of a frozen smile. “Would you stand right here for a minute?” She quickly set down a folding stand and put a large, heavily laden tray on top of it. “Whatever you’re doing,” she hissed, leaning down to the level of my ear and concealing our conversation, “you need to stop it before you make a mess of things. Anyone in this room can end both of our careers right now, forever, with nothing more than a word. We’re just going to have to deal with your huge b--” she swallowed against saying anything potentially unappetizing, even in a sotto voice “—project, after dinner.”
I was about to explain that these centipedes were here for dinner too, and they seemed to like the taste of fingers, when I saw her eyes widen in horror at something over my shoulder. She brought both hands to her open mouth, as if to stuff back the oncoming scream, and knocked the superfluous teapot on its side. The lid went rolling away with a little whir-whir noise, under the big table, where I caught a glimpse of lurking yellow, black and red. One of the guests leaned over to catch the runaway crockery.
“I’ll get it!” I cried, diving under the table.
Any objection to this was drowned out by the arrival of Ishàmae from the bar off to the side of the dining room. “Welcome!” he boomed. “Welcome, honored guests, Senator, congratulations on your legislation, yes, yes! In your honor, yes, I have procured this rare liquor…”
Under the table was a sea of skirts and boots, and weaving among them was the stitching centipede, waving feelers seeking vulnerable flesh. I crawled forward, slowly, on my hands and toes, trying desperately not to draw any attention from the guests in the form of edible looking exposed skin.
[Stealth check: Success]
I wondered how quietly I could throw my dagger.
Hold on, I have an idea. I very quietly wiggled out of my coat, then took out my dagger and grasped the handle through the thick cotton breast. Holding the baggy coat in front of me like a shield, I very lightly scraped the point of the dagger on the wooden floor. Here, buggy, buggy, buggy…
The centipede turned immediately.
The centipede coiled, I crouched, and I pounced only milliseconds after it did. The venom tipped mandibles closed around the dagger, and I smothered the whole thing with the thick cotton coat. It immediately tried to escape, writhing and hissing and chewing.
“Shut up!” I growled under my breath. All we needed now was some curious politician to poke his head down here and give the centipede the opening it was looking for. It had more limbs than I did, though, and I was losing this wrestling match. In desperation, I rolled my whole body weight onto the cotton coated bug, but if this incapacitated it in any way, it only squirmed harder.
“…but this liquor, the Espirit de Feu, is very strong, yes, and best mixed with this syrup of cacao, all the way from Okonia….” Ishàmae continued above, holding the attention of the table. Thank you Isha. “…now Sarah, give our guests each one of these tiny cups, yes, please-would-you, and a cherry…”
The centipede made a break for it, trying to crawl out of one of the coat sleeves. That gave me an idea. Taking a deep breath for concentration, I flipped the whole bundle over, and faster even than the giant bug, tied the sleeves together. My dagger came loose and skidded away, coming to rest against one of the ladies boots.
“Excuse me, what is that?” she asked, and I saw the tablecloth come up as she bent over to look.
No time, no time, and my dagger is out of reach…
Yes!
Ishàmae finished his speech to a smattering of applause. Now.
I grabbed up the hissing mass of imprisoned centipede, rolled out from under the table in the only spot clear of chairs, and tossed the whole mess right into the fireplace, over the cheerful flames and against the bed of coals in the back.
I turned around. I now had the attention of the entire room, including Sarah’s, who looked like she wished I would disappear into a hole in the floor, and Isha’s, whose eyes went wide at my sudden appearance in the dining room, along with its implications. I gave him a little smile that said, Don’t worry, I took care of it, but the expression froze on my face at an outcry and clatter from the kitchen.
The basement door. I remembered, my stomach twisting into a knot which was one part oh-no-I-didn’t and two parts oh-yes-I-did. I had left it open.
Sarah set down the expensive looking blue bottle she was pouring from and immediately bolted towards her mother. I bounced my heels on the stone hearth extension and did a flying somersault over the crowded table in front of me, and landed running on the other side. Amazed murmurs followed me, along with a bark of outright laughter from the drunken young man.
[Jump check: Success]
“Excuse me, yes, please enjoy your appetizers, we will be right back…”
Sarah and I arrived at the kitchen door a moment ahead of Isha, so I tucked and rolled, tumbling past her knees, and sprung up beside the hanging pot confection.
Marrisa was perched on the stepstool, cursing like a wet dwarf and fending off a centipede with a broom.
I drew my second dagger and fired, but struck the broom instead of the bug.
Yeah, me too. Instead I grabbed a cleaver sitting in a wooden block off to my right, sprang forward, and chopped at the centipede. The heavy cleaver swung awkwardly in my hands, nicking the stool, but not my target.
I looked around, but didn’t see it.
[Perception check: Failed]
Maybe it rolled off under the oven or something.
“Sam, here!” A brief shadow over my head warned me of Marrisa dropping something at me, I looked up and caught the big metal mixing bowl by reflex.
Yes! I upended the mixing bowl, spilling dark batter all over myself, and repeated my centipede capturing trick from earlier, clomping the bowl over most of the bug and trapping it firmly underneath. Only the head stuck out. Not proficient, huh? I raised the cleaver, took careful aim, and brought it down on the centipede’s neck, neatly severing the head.
[Bugs in the Basement: Quest update!]
[Exterminate the centipedes: 3/5]
“What are you talking about?” I muttered. “I have killed four. Two by dagger, one by cleaver, and one by f—”
I was interrupted by shrieks from the dining room.
“Ahhh, get away, get away!”
“What is that thing? It’s coming out of the fire! It’s ON fire!”
“Eeee!”
“It’s a fire elemental!”
“It’s a demon!”
“A demon? Oh no, it’s the Demons’ Den all over again! Run!”
Her mother safe, Sarah pushed open the swinging door to deal with this new crisis, and on the other side was a scene of chaos. Overturned chairs tumbled around the room, and plates of expensive dishes crashed to the floor, spilling food and drink everywhere. Politicians scrambled and ran, chased by a sooty, panicked centipede trailing the flaming remains of cotton coat which was entangled in its carapace. It was insanely fast. Fire streaked behind it as it whipped and wove amongst the capsized chairs and tables.
One enterprising guest managed to get the windows open, and hopped out into the raining night. A breeze blew in, gusting up one of the tablecloths and knocking over an expensive blue bottle, which bounced as it rolled and spilled along the woo
den floor. Rare fumes filled the room.
The centipede stitched its way through the Espirit de Feu, and the trailing flames went whomph! as the window escape was cut off. The centipede twisted and spun like a rogue neutrino, and drug the wall of flames around and in front of the folding doors to the bar.
“No!” Sarah took off her apron and ran into the room, beating out the fire. The door swung shut behind her, and I saw a furtive movement in the sacks stored on the shelves above. The last centipede. Alerted by Sarah’s movement, it slithered forward and made for the doorway, targeting the tremors of her thumping apron.
“Sarah, wait!” I shouted, but she didn’t hear me over the bedlam. No time. I hoisted the cleaver and took aim.
“Never tell me the odds.” I interrupted, and threw.
The cleaver spun, end over end, unevenly; the heavy blade unbalanced it for throwing. The lighter handle orbited around faster, making the butt far more likely to hit than any cutting edge. Cummon. I thought at it. Cummon!
I tried to anticipate the improvised weapon’s tumble, as if by concentration I might wish it better aim. If it hits at all, maybe the centipede will fall… maybe no one will step on it…
The cleaver hit, blade first, and sunk into the shelf, piercing wood and carapace and a sack of flour. Two halves of a centipede rained down, as neatly split as a wishbone, followed by a white cloud of dust.
[Bugs in the Basement: Quest update!]
[Exterminate the centipedes: 4/5]
What’s a Natural Twenty? I thought, remembering to not talk to imaginary voices out loud this time.