by Robert Bevan
Dave thought fast. He needed to get Murkwort back to thinking about Murkwort.
“I thought it was amazing. In fact, I'd say that would be pretty hard to top.”
“You'd say wrong!” Murkwort pointed at the desk across the room, and a drawer opened.
Dave hoped that there was more to his performance. It would be difficult to fake excitement over yet another Mage Hand spell. Then out of the drawer rose an object that Dave didn't need to fake excitement over at all. A small leather pouch, about the perfect size to hold marbles, a bottle of Crown Royal whiskey, or some magical dice, meandered through the air to Murkwort's waiting hand.
Murkwort held it up. “What you see before you appears to be an ordinary leather pouch, does it not?”
“Yes!” said Dave. “What's in it?”
“The contents of the pouch are not so impressive as the pouch itself.”
Dave frowned. “Really?”
“A little device of my own inventing,” said Murkwort, dipping two fingers into the mouth of the bag. “Allow me to demonstrate. Does anyone feel a sniffle coming on? Perhaps you could use a handkerchief.” Pinched between his fingertips was a corner of black fabric, which he teased out until there was a full-sized black handkerchief tied off at the opposite corner with – Drum roll, please – a white handkerchief.
Captain Righteous looked like Dave felt, embarrassed to be in the room.
“Wow,” said Dave as Murkwort continued to pull out his continuous chain of black and white handkerchiefs, his arm pulling more exaggeratedly each time, and his face with a more exaggerated look of mock surprise. “I've never seen anything like that.” Since the second grade.
Murkwort was one of those guys who didn't know when to quit. The handkerchiefs were piling up into a mound at his feet, and yet he kept pulling them out. Dave thought that, even if this had been his first time witnessing true magic, he would have grown bored with it already.
“How can such a tiny pouch contain so much within it?” said Murkwort, in case anyone was unclear as to what was supposed to be so amazing.
Captain Righteous knelt next to Dave and pretended to wipe something from his boot. “If I knock him out,” he murmured, “we could tie him with the handkerchiefs and give him a proper interrogation about the dice.”
Dave was afraid he'd been thinking along those lines. “Put a pin in that,” Dave whispered back. “Let me try one more thing.”
He waited for the captain to stand up again, so as to not look like he was acting right after whispering conspiratorially.
Just as he was about to speak, Bingam beat him to it.
“Are you saying that you invented the Bag of Holding?”
NO NO NO!
“It's not a Bag of Holding!” snapped Murkwort. He stopped pulling out handkerchiefs. “Those are much larger. This is a Pouch of Holding.”
“I had a pouch like that once,” Dave blurted out, a desperate attempt to stamp out the fire before it got out of control.
“Did you?” Murkwort crossed his arms and sneered at Dave. “The fat little dwarf who was so impressed by some rudimentary first year wizard school spells claims to have a Pouch of Holding back home in Hillstown?”
“Hey!” said Dave. It wasn't his fault that Murkwort was a shitty performer. There wasn't any need to bring his weight into it. “That's not what I meant. My pouch is ordinary. It's just something I keep my dice in.”
“Dice?” Murkwort's voice sounded suspicious. That hadn't transitioned nearly as smoothly as Dave had hoped it would.
“Yeah. My friends and I get together and play our dice games on the weekend. I don't want to lose them, so I've got a little pouch to put them in. Looks just like that.” The way Murkwort was looking at him, Dave felt like he was wearing a sign that said, “I'M FEEDING YOU BULLSHIT BECAUSE I DON'T RESPECT YOUR INTELLIGENCE.” He really wished Julian was here to do this.
“How nice.” Murkwort went to a tailor's dummy standing between two shelving units. It was wearing a blue cloak with a peacock feather or eyeball pattern around the torso, and what looked like an aviator hat on the iron orb which served as the head. “I have one more invention which I'd like to show you. Would you like to see it?”
“Absolutely!” said Dave, nearly absolutely sure that he didn't want to see it.
Murkwort removed the hat from the dummy, then turned around to face them, once again wearing his performer's face. “For my next demonstration, I'll need a volunteer.”
Bingam's hand shot up. “Me! Me!”
Murkwort scanned the room as if it was an auditorium full of people. “How... about...” he pointed at Dave. “you.”
Fuck.
“I call this a Helm of Honesty,” said Murkwort, dramatically advancing toward Dave with the hat held out in front of him. “It compels the wearer to speak the truth.”
“Is that like a Zone of Truth spell?” asked Bingam. “Because we've –”
“YES!” cried Murkwort. “But it's in a hat! Have you seen it in a hat before? No, you haven't!” He scowled at Dave. “Please remove your helmet.”
Dave looked to Captain Righteous for guidance, but couldn't read anything from his expression. He took off his helmet.
Murkwort shoved the Helm of Honesty down on Dave's head. It fit very snugly.
“Now, what shall we ask him?”
“Oh, I know!” said Bingam. “Ask him if he's ever worn women's clothing before.”
“Yes!” said Dave, horrified that the word slipped out of his mouth involuntarily. “It was at camp. It was a game we were playing. I don't –”
“Let's try something simpler,” said Murkwort. “Where are you from?”
“Gulfport, Mississippi.”
Murkwort frowned. “I've never heard of such a place. Why did you make up such a terrible lie as Hillstown?”
“I didn't have much time to think. It sounded, I don't know, dwarfier.”
“Why did you attempt to deceive me? What is it you truly want?”
“The dice,” said Dave, unable to control himself. “We need them to get back home.”
“I knew it!” Murkwort cried, disgusted and betrayed. “How dare you fill me with liquor and try to take advantage of me like a common harlot! Do you not know why they call me Murkwort the Magnificent?”
Dave pressed his lips together, but the words forced themselves out. “Nobody calls you that. I made it up to massage your fragile ego.”
“Why you impertinent little –” Murkwort caught Captain Righteous making his move and held him paralyzed with a wave of the hand, the captain's arm cocked back to punch Murkwort in the face. “You shall rue the day you insulted Murkwort the MagnYAAAA – Oof!” His concentration had broken, releasing Captain Righteous's fist to continue along its previous trajectory.
Dave looked down and saw Bingam biting Murkwort hard in the calf. Once the old wizard collapsed on top of him, Bingam let go.
When Dave finally got to the end of the handkerchiefs, there were enough of them tied together to practically mummify Murkwort and a chair together.
“Twenty handkerchiefs is a novelty. Fifty is a gag. Anything beyond that is just tedious.”
“Put the hat on his head,” said Captain Righteous. “We shall learn what's become of these dice everyone is in such a tizzy over.”
Dave put the Helm of Truth on Murkwort's head. “Should we try to wake him up, or wait for him to wake up on his own?”
Captain Righteous poked Murkwort in the shoulder. “Are you truly sleeping?”
Murkwort sighed and opened his eyes. “No.”
“Where are the dice?” asked Dave.
“I sold them.”
“Shit! All of them?”
“Yes.”
“To who?”
“Whom.”
“What?”
Murkwort glared at Dave. “To whom?”
“Fuck you!” said Dave. “Who the fuck did you sell the goddamn dice to?”
Murkwort shrugged as much as his hand
kerchief bindings would allow. “The transactions were anonymous. It's standard practice. Buyers don't want sellers knowing their identity, lest they have a change of heart and seek to retrieve what they've parted with.”
“You honestly have no idea how to get in touch with these people?”
“That's the point of anonymity.”
“But all these anonymous transactions went down on the Crescent Shadow?”
“Yes.”
Dave suddenly remembered something he should have already asked. “Were any of these people halflings?”
“No.”
That was a relief, albeit not a strong one. Dave took a moment to gather his thoughts. What brought Mordred and Tim together if not the dice? Something didn't add up. It was too much to think about right now, but Dave thought that there was still a chance, however slim, that Mordred didn't have the dice, and might not even know that they were floating around freely out there. Furthermore, those wizards who bought them off Murkwort might all still be on the Crescent Shadow. If they left the island, they'd be exponentially more difficult to track down.
Dave looked Murkwort in the eye. “Can you take us back to the Crescent Shadow?”
“Yes.”
Captain Righteous put a hand on Dave's shoulder, then addressed Murkwort. “Are you willing to take us back to the Crescent Shadow?”
Murkwort sneered at him. “No.”
That gave Dave a thought. “If we leave you here, are you going to break free from your bindings and kill us all?”
Murkwort's face contorted as he tried to lie. “N-n-n-n-nnYES! Gods damn this cursed hat!”
“And about how long would that take?”
“Ha!” said Murkwort. “You wouldn't even make it out of the tower.”
“How would you do it?” asked Dave.
“I have a number of spells without somatic components with which I could free myself. Then I would simply incinerate you.”
Dave frowned. “We don't want to have to hurt you. Is there any way we could guarantee our own safety from you without killing you or knocking you out?”
“M-m-m-my spells aren't all memorized,” Murkwort reluctantly spat out. “You could set f-f-f-fire to my tower and b-b-b-burn all of my belongings.”
“Well that settles it,” said Captain Righteous. “I am not comfortable striking a bound prisoner, and certainly not murdering one.”
Murkwort gawked at the captain with terror in his eyes. “You don't mean... you can't mean...”
Captain Righteous nodded. “We have no choice but to burn the place down.”
“Please!” cried Murkwort. “Knock me out!” He craned his neck to give the captain a nice easy target.
“Come on,” said Dave. “If he prefers to be knocked out than have his home burnt down, then surely –”
“The Knights Code is very clear,” said Captain Righteous. “I cannot strike a helpless prisoner. If we untie him first, then –”
Dave shook his head. “No, that's definitely off the table. I'm sure that he's been planning in his head all along what he'd do if he could just free his arms for one second.” He looked at Murkwort. “Right?”
“Shit!” Murkwort cursed at the floor. “Yes.”
Dave had another sudden thought and tried to act on it, but Captain Righteous had clearly anticipated this and caught Dave's fist before it could make contact with Murkwort's face, which was practically begging for it.
He shrugged at Murkwort. “Sorry, man. I tried.”
“No!” cried Murkwort. “All my books! All my research! There must be some other way!”
Captain Righteous was already lighting a candle on Murkwort's reading desk.
“You'd better think of another way right fucking now if you want to save your home,” said Dave.
Murkwort bit his lower lip and groaned as Captain Righteous held a scroll over the candle flame.
“Do you have anything?” asked Dave.
“Yes!” said Murkwort.
“Then why didn't you say something?”
“Because I don't like it.”
“What is it?”
Murkwort writhed in his bindings, willing himself not to speak. “You could take me with you, and I can cast a Contingency spell which will trigger a Fireball spell here in my office should I attempt to deceive you.”
“Hmph,” said Dave. “That's pretty good.” He turned to Captain Righteous. “What do you think?”
The captain nodded and blew out the candle flame. “I can live with that.”
“We should take him to the Whore's Head. They can interrogate him until they're blue in the face, and we might be able to clear Tim's name... at least as far as the dice are concerned. I feel like I owe him that much.”
Captain Righteous stroked his mustache. “Perhaps they will ask him a question with regard to the dice which we didn't think to ask.”
“What's your stake in all this?” Dave asked Captain Righteous. “Why do you care so much about the dice?”
“Because I made a promise to Lady Katherine.”
Chapter 16
Chaz had spent a nearly sleepless night making a list of pros and cons with regard to following Cooper into Glittersprinkles Grove.
Getting the easy cons out of the way first, Cooper was an asshole and he smelled like shit. On the other hand, Chaz didn't know if there was anyone in this world or the one they'd come from whom he'd trust more to look out for him when the shit hit the fan. Sure, it was Cooper's fault that Chaz's chain snapped, mostly anyway. But no one would have given him too much grief about it. He obviously didn't mean to snap the chain. And no one would have faulted Cooper if he hadn't immediately leaped out of his own cage, toward almost certain death, to make a batshit insane attempt at saving him. That had taken balls of a magnitude that Chaz couldn't fathom. Surely, Cooper would show that same courage and disregard for his own safety to protect Chaz from whatever ghosts and ghouls were haunting Glittersprinkles Grove. Plus, he had a pretty badass magical axe.
Then again, rather than count on the fearless support of someone who would give their own life to protect him, it might be safer to spend more time with people who weren't as likely to drag him into situations where both of their lives would be constantly threatened.
Having thought that, Cooper was certainly not a person whom Chaz wanted to abandon right now, particularly after Cooper had so selflessly risked his own life to save Chaz's... even if it was his fault that Chaz's life had been endangered in the first place.
Chaz's thoughts were becoming cyclical, and he wasn't sure he was any closer to a conclusion now than he'd been when he'd started thinking about it. But he was quite certain he was more sleep deprived.
There were people and monsters all over this world who could and would rip Chaz to pieces without a moment's hesitation. At least in Glittersprinkles Grove, he'd have someone looking out for him. Abandoning Cooper now, right after Cooper had saved his life and while he was on a quest of honor, would mark Chaz as a coward to anyone who ever learned of it. Also, if Chaz let Cooper face this challenge alone and the worst should happen, he would have to live with that for the rest of his life. He didn't think he could... It didn't seem... He'd think about it more tomorrow...
*
Chaz woke up to what sounded like an outboard motor and what smelled like burning sulfur. Coughing and opening his eyes, he felt the sting of Cooper's ass, which was hovering over him, trumpeting its morning song.
“What the ever-loving fuck?” cried Chaz. “Honestly, what's wrong with you? What would possess you to squat over another person while he's sleeping and let one rip in his face?”
Cooper shrugged. “I had to fart. It was time to wake up. Two birds, one stone. You should consider yourself lucky. I was about eighty percent sure that was only going to be a fart, but my estimates on that are usually way off.”
“I'm supposed to feel lucky because you failed to shit on my face? That's not luck! That's the default setting. Billions of people go their who
le lives neither shitting on other people's faces nor having their own faces shat on by others. When a normal person needs to fart or shit, it doesn't even occur to that person to squat over a sleeping person's face. It's like you're trying to –”
That was it. Cooper was being even more of an asshole than usual to dissuade Chaz from tagging along. Who could blame him for ditching Cooper after he'd just taken a dump on his face. It was the perfect excuse. Cooper was trying to save Chaz's life.
Well fuck that. Cooper had too much moral leverage on him already.
“I've decided to come with you.”
“Fuck,” said Cooper. “Why?”
“You need me. I'm not as useless as you think.” Chaz unsheathed his rapier and swiped at the air. “I can swing a sword, after all.”
“If you roll really well, that might tickle a ghost. You're not useless. You're worse than that. You're a... What's the word? Libel... legality... Lilliputian... Lithuanian...”
“Liability?” said Chaz.
“I think so. Does that mean, like, an extra pain in my ass that I'll need to babysit during an already difficult quest?”
Chaz sighed. “It's closer to that definition than Lithuanian.”
“Okay, cool. Thanks.” Cooper offered Chaz a sad-eyed sympathetic grin. “So... you know... fuck off.”
Chaz had to admit, Cooper was making a very good case for him to leave, but Chaz refused to be outsmarted by someone so stupid.
“No,” said Chaz. “I'm the pain in your ass that's coming with you to Glittersprinkles Grove.”
Cooper shrugged. “Suit yourself. I'm not carrying your dead ass all the way back to Cardinia though.” He started walking through the tall dew-soaked grass in the same direction they'd been traveling the night before.
“Wait!” said Chaz.
“No,” said Cooper.
Chaz shielded his eyes from the harsh midmorning sun and looked around their little clearing. He hadn't unpacked anything, so there wasn't anything to gather. He could have done with a morning piss, but he supposed that could wait. The new day's journey suddenly begun, he ran after Cooper.
“Where's Ravenus?” he asked when he caught up.
“How the fuck should I know? Off killing rats or fucking turkeys, or whatever it is birds do.”