Thru the Badger Hole

by Taki Drake

  A soft expletive escaped his mouth as the dumbfounded man looked at the bed that was easily half again longer than it had been just a short time before. It would have dwarfed the room except that the room had apparently also grown while they were out. The proportions of the room now fit the man that was standing next to the bed. The frame of the bed was now taller, making it easier for him to get in and out, while all of the ceilings were higher so that he didn’t get claustrophobic. Madrik was positive that the bathroom dimensions, even the shower and toilet fixtures, would also have been adjusted to fit the bigger man.

  Brechal was staring at Madrik when the bar manager’s attention turned toward his employee.

  “This is just more than I can figure out right now.”

  “That is what I was trying to tell you before. So here’s my first boss order. Lie down, get some sleep and let your brain incorporate some of this weirdness while you sleep. When you feel rested, come on down and join me in the barroom. We have a lot of planning to do.”

  Caught in a daze of exhaustion, Brechal nodded his head and lowered his body onto the bed. Sometime during their conversation, the blanket had been pulled back to show an invitingly soft interior. Brechal’s body seemed almost to disassemble rather and lie down in the safe haven of the bed. The exhausted man was asleep before his body finished compressing the pillow.

  Quietly and carefully, Madrik reached across the man and pulled the comforter over to cover the sleeper. As he made his way out of the room, Madrik noticed that the BHB had dimmed the lights leaving Brechal in a comforting dimness. Quietly, Madrik led himself out of the suite and return to the barroom floor.

  Chapter 14 – Scouting Party

  When Madrik returned downstairs, the storyteller was still there, staring intently at the small stones that were scattered across the table. He appeared to be muttering to himself, but Madrik couldn’t hear what he was saying. Noticing that the bar manager had returned downstairs, the old man swept the stones up and stuck them in a pouch at his waist. Standing up, he rubbed his hand briskly and said, “I believe that you wanted to walk around outside. I would be quite happy to do that with you since I’m very curious about how things are changing.”

  “That would be fine, but what if Brechal wakes up and no one’s here?”

  The storyteller replied, “I’m sure that the BHB will let you know if he wakes up, or for that matter if anyone else comes in.”

  A trickle of agreement came across the companion bond, and Madrik felt reassured. He really did want to see what was outside. He made sure he had one of his notebooks and his ever-present pen. Holding them in hand, he motioned to the storyteller to precede him and then followed the man out of the bar. He felt a little strange since it was the first time that he had been outside of the bar itself in this dimension. His mind still collided with the idea that he was in a different dimension. Not a country, not a planet, not even a galaxy. He was in a different dimension.

  And it wasn’t Kansas either.

  As they came out of the door, Madrik could see that the swirling fog was further from the door than it had been the day before. Looking to the left, he could see approximately a half block before the fog covered the ruins with a ghostly shroud. Looking to the right, he could see a bit further, about the length of a football field. The outside corner of the bar was about 20 feet to his right. Beyond that, he could see what might be a little courtyard, paved in a peculiar looking stone and dotted with a few trees. It looked sort of fancy, not something he would have expected to find here.

  Hmpf! was the BHB’s response. I think I just insulted my friend. Sorry! Madrik thought back.

  The storyteller took off for the right-hand side and disappeared around the corner of the building. Madrik hurried to catch up with him, noting absently that the door to the right of the one that they exited did not show on the outside of the building. I suppose that makes sense in a weird sort of way, he thought to himself. If the door is a secret doorway to the passageways to other dimensions, then it makes sense that it wouldn’t come out on this side.

  The curve of the building was a graceful sweep of stone, both plain and carved. The storyteller was moving too quickly for Madrik to linger over the intriguing carvings but he vowed to come back when he had more time. The storyteller was 100 feet ahead of Madrik, so the younger man increased his speed to a trot to catch up. When he drew even with the older man, Madrik looked at the storyteller’s shocked face.

  “What is wrong?” he asked in concern.

  The old man looked at Madrik with an expression that could almost have been admiring and seemed about to say something specific. However, the storyteller made an obvious switch to say instead, “Nothing’s the matter, I’m just impressed with what you’ve been doing.”

  “Thank you, but all of the work has been the BHB’s.”

  “He wouldn’t have done this amount of work or performed it in this way without you as his base. The anchor makes all the difference in the world.”

  Madrik looked around the curve of the building to see what had so impressed the storyteller. He didn’t notice anything unusual. The start of the garden was there, looking raw and new. The raised beds had started to develop and seedlings just showing in every section. There were a couple of small trees, no taller than 4-5 feet, that were thick with small flowers. The blooms were open, perfuming the air. To Madrik, it looked like spring in the mountainous area where he had grown up. The smell of the flowers set off a twinge of grief and remembered joy through his body as he remembered holding his wife, Jenny, in the woods at his parents’ home after he proposed and she accepted.

  The scent of that sweet, yet spicy little flower would remain with him forever.

  Dragging his attention back to where he was standing, Madrik saw that the fog was not too far from the edge of the garden. The cultivated area had sections of what looked like kitchen produce and spices, placed conveniently close to the kitchen back door. Outside of that and looking like at some point it might be accessible from the rest of the building were the beginnings of a garden that was more suited to strolling on pleasant nights.

  Even looking at that area settled a little bit of a calm blanket over Madrik. Suddenly, all the worries he had about being good enough or fast enough or smart enough to do what faced him and the BHB eased. They did not disappear because that would have been foolish. An awareness of problems was always important but rather than letting it overwhelm him, it became more motivation to do his best.

  Madrik could barely see that there was a road partially formed outside of the garden areas. At this point, it was concealed by the heavy moving cloud of the fog.

  The storyteller remarked, “This is looking pretty good.”

  “Really, I thought it looked pretty rough.”

  “That would make sense because frankly, your ownership is very new. So it looks like it is.”

  Madrik gave a short, hard laugh and nodded his head in agreement. It didn’t make any sense to call the status something other than what it was. He was a beginner, and he thought that the whole area looked like a beginner was in control. However, the others seem to think that he was doing well, and he appreciated the encouragement even if it was contained in sardonic or sarcastic remarks.

  Turning back to return to the front of the bar, Madrik noticed that the side of the street away from the bar had patches of shifting, lighter fog. He glanced at them for a little while and said to the storyteller, “What is different about those areas?”

  “I am not sure. I’ve never heard or seen anything like it, so I think that your particular nature is making a partial accommodation with the chaos fog.”

  Chaos fog. A truly descriptive term and one that explains a lot of my uncomfortable feelings. I’ve never liked chaos.

  Another small spurt of laughter made its effervescent way down the companion bond. Apparently, he was just amusing the hell out of everybody today, including his companion. Damn! Here I am trying to be serious and philosophical, b
ut everything I say is making people laugh.

  There wasn’t a lot more to see in the street area in front of the bar. Madrik had been sketching as he walked, partially to reinforce the position of things and also for a record to compare against progress. He was a methodical man, prone to tracking and contemplation. He knew that if he didn’t have some way of identifying progress that he would be less effective and more fretful. One way or another, he would keep a form of measurement and see if he could develop more clues as to how things worked in this dimension and time.

  Trying to make sure that he had everything recorded, Madrik walked around the edges of the defined land, keeping a wary eye on the patches of chaos fog. He couldn’t get past the idea that there was some sort of malign intelligence out there hiding in the fog. He didn’t want to be taken by surprise, but he felt unprotected and unarmed.

  Darn it! I should’ve brought my staff with me. But who knew that I would want a weapon just walking around outside the bar. Madrik had taken another three steps before something slammed into his chest, sending his pen and notebook clattering to the ground. Clutching the object reflexively, he was somehow not surprised to feel the smooth wood of the knobbed staff that the BHB had given him earlier.

  Looking up at the storyteller and opening his mouth to make a joking reference to his clumsiness, Madrik was stunned to see the raw shock on the storyteller’s face. I guess he didn’t expect us to do that. Maybe the BHB and I are good for each other.

  Rather than saying anything to them, the storyteller bent down to retrieve the notebook and pen from where they had scattered. Dusting them both off, the old man presented his possessions to Madrik with a bow. “I believe, sir, that these are yours.”

  Entering into what he thought the spirit of the exchange was, Madrik responded, “I thank you, sir, for your assistance.” He punctuated his sentence with a slight bow of his own. Not quite as deep as the one given to him by the storyteller but a noticeable gesture of respect.

  Once again, the storyteller’s eyes widened in surprise, but a practiced smile and cheerful expression slid over his face, hiding his thoughts from Madrik.

  Madrik continued to sketch the layout of the land that he could see and make notes on questions and things to watch on the rest. He thought it would be awkward trying to manage the staff and his notebook and pen, but as long as he didn’t think about it, he had no problems. If he concentrated on how difficult it was going to be, it was like he had developed ten thumbs, all covered with something slippery. He just couldn’t hold onto anything. Rather than complicate the situation, Madrik stopped thinking about the problem and just coped.

  Looking down at his extensive notes and cryptic diagrams, Madrik shrugged his shoulders and thought to himself, Just more things that I’ll have to investigate and decode. There are so many interesting puzzles here that I truly hope none of them are going to be fatal.

  Walking behind the bar into the garden area for one last sketch of the developing garden, Madrik was frustrated because his earlier drawing had been incomplete. How could I have missed so many bigger plants? he thought to himself.

  A shiver ran down his spine as he realized that he hadn’t missed anything. Where he had marked three- and four-foot saplings, there now stood more mature trees, rising to a height well over 20 feet. Reaching out a shaking hand, Madrik laid his palm against the trunk of one of the trees. It was one that he did not recognize. Smooth-barked, it emitted a licorice cinnamon smell, sweet and spicy all at the same time. There were no flowers on the tree, but he could see on the ground where the flower petals had dropped. The petals were still fresh, so they had not dropped more than an hour ago. Perhaps that means we’ll have fruit, later on, he thought to himself.

  Suddenly in high spirits for no apparent reason, Madrik stopped following the storyteller and headed back to the bar’s front door. He was whistling a little bit as he walked and found that his step had gained an extra bounce.

  It always felt good when you realized that you were coming out of depression, he knew. He’d been there before, the first time when he had mustered out of the service. The loss of the order and predictability of his life in the military had felt like an amputation when he had returned to his parents’ home. He was lonely and confused. It’d taken him ten months to get over it. It took that long for new habits, and a new order to be established.

  This felt the same. Madrik’s world was rearranging, and eventually, it would come back into the same comfortable type of habitual actions and considerations. Especially after the last few days, that would be a wonderful gift.

  As Madrik approached the front door of the bar, the door opened by itself and he could feel the welcoming atmosphere as the BHB reached out in joy at his return. Hey, guy. I just went for a walk outside. It’s not like I was leaving or anything, I need to explore a little bit. How are we supposed to do a good job of setting up and protecting things if we don’t occasionally go out and see how everything is situated?

  Madrik got the sense of a foot stamped in frustration. Wondering where he had gone wrong, the bar manager stopped in his tracks and waited. It was a good thing that he had done that because the onslaught of images that hit his brain left him reeling. Holding onto his staff for dear life, Madrik leaned his forehead against the knob on the top of the staff. Concentrating hard, he managed to stay upright and avoid vomiting in the intense nausea that threatened his control.

  One image after another slammed into his head. Snapshots of a glowing map where first there was one tiny spark followed by a slowly growing network of sparks that got bigger and got more complicated.

  I think you’re telling me that I’m missing a tool that you have given me to check status. Is that right? The battered thought that he sent to his companion was bounced back with an emphatic YES! Madrik breathed a sigh of relief, now both reassured and comforted by the fact that there was a tool and he didn’t have to write everything down. However, that sort of mental capability was something that he planned on practicing without the storyteller looking over his shoulder.

  Completing his entry into the bar, Madrik turned to look at the storyteller, asking, “Are you coming in or do you have other things that you need to be doing?”

  “Funny you should ask that. I was just going to make my excuses and leave. There are a few other things that I need to follow up on, both around here and in some other places with other people. If you’ll excuse me, I will make my farewells. However, I’ll be back sometime in the next few days in case you have any other questions.”

  “Thank you very much. Both for understanding the myriad of questions that Brechal and I had and for keeping me company. We hope to see you more in the future.”

  “And the ‘we’ is comprised of…”

  “The BHB and me, of course.”

  “Okay, I was just checking!”

  Chapter 15 – Waiting for the Other Shoe

  It’d been a quiet night, with no additional visitors and no more pounding on the barricaded door. Brechal had slept through the remainder of the evening and the entire night, his exhaustion and grief combining with the drain of the battle to reduce the big man to complete and utter collapse.

  Madrik made sure the BHB he knew that he wanted to be alerted immediately if Brechal woke up and did anything but move back and forth to the bathroom. His empathy for the confusion that Brechal must be feeling ensured that he stayed up far later than he had planned, waiting in the barroom, working on his list.

  When it got late enough that the man was reasonably certain that Brechal would not surface until morning, he made his own weary way back to his quarters. The entire way back, he could feel the BHB bouncing in anticipation at the end of the bond. Smiling to himself, he thought, The BHB has another surprise waiting for me. I hope it’s not a difficult one because I am definitely not up to much.

  The bar manager was reasonably certain that it wouldn’t be a bad surprise since there was none of that little boy glee that presaged an uncomfortable surp
rise. Instead, it felt to Madrik like there was something special that the BHB had worked on that he wanted to give to Madrik as a gift.

  Feeling the tension ratcheting up along his companion bond as he got closer to his suite, Madrik was not surprised when both doors opened as he approached. Stepping into his sitting room he felt a swish of air across his back as the doors closed gently. He was too busy to react, staring in awe at all the changes in the room. The BHB had been busy, surprisingly so.

  The fire in the fireplace was lit, and a red glow of flames warmed the room. There was a comfortable-looking throw placed on one of the couches and a tray of some of the foods that Emesh and the Adnoji had brought earlier. Sitting next to the tray was a dusty bottle of wine and a strange contraption. Madrik could guess at its purpose since the wine bottle was corked and there was a glass sitting next to it. Apparently, corkscrews were universal.

  Completing the setting for Madrik’s surprise, the BHB had placed a pile of notebooks and a circular container holding writing implements upright in the center of the large low table. This was a thoughtful, perfect present for the weary man.

  Madrik let his surprise and gratitude flow back across the companion bond. He made sure that the depth of his appreciation was clearly expressed. The pleasure of having done something successfully for Madrik reflected back at him from the BHB. His companion was learning Madrik just as Madrik was learning the BHB. Each of them would make mistakes, but both of them were getting closer in their understanding of the other.

  Placing the staff that he had unconsciously carried to his room against the end of the couch, Madrik settled down on the inviting expanse of the large couch cushion and sighed in contentment. Running his hand along the throw, his sense of touch told him that it was of a material that he had never felt before, one that was silky soft and light as a puff of air. Another thing that I’m going to have to figure out. Just put it on the list.