by Robert Bevan
“What are you thinking about?” asked Stacy.
“Um... Ravenus.” It was easier that way.
“We should really try to find Dave and Captain Whatshisname.”
They got up, got their things together, and started the short walk back toward the noise.
“I spent a lot of time thinking about what you said last night,” said Julian. “And while I don't like it, I think you're right. We should keep quiet about the dice until we have them all, we've captured all the remaining Mordred avatars, or we find out that Mordred's gotten his hands on one of them.”
“Good.”
“I was just thinking that if something bad were to happen as a result of us keeping our secret, I wouldn't want that to be on my hands.”
“I understand.”
“But now I'm thinking that if something bad were to happen as a result of too many people knowing about the dice, which seems way more likely now that I've given it some thought, I don't want that on my hands either.”
“You don't have to explain yourself to me,” said Stacy. “It was my idea, remember?”
“I know. I'm rationalizing it to myself.”
“Don't overthink it. You're making the decision that's statistically the most probable to be the best for everyone.”
It only took a few minutes to walk back to the outermost dive bars and rent-by-the-hour hotels farthest away from the main party strip. It smelled like Cooper's apartment back on Earth. Younger people sat on the front steps of buildings next to piles of puke, cradling their heads after a night of going at it harder than they should have. Tourists who'd dreamed of the day when they could finally party with the big boys. The gods only knew how much money they'd spent to have this experience, and they'd likely be going home with barely any memory of it.
“Do you think they spent the night in one of these places?” asked Julian.
“Who knows? I'm kind of surprised they didn't turn up in the woods. Free is free, and I think I'd prefer to sleep on the ground than on any bed I've seen so far in this world.” Stacy glanced left and right down alleys and side streets as they headed toward the main thoroughfare. “Don't focus too hard on them. They're easy enough to spot, as are we. This is a small island, and we're bound to bump into each other eventually. Focus more on spotting another die.”
“What about Mordred?”
Stacy shrugged. “We only know what one of them looks like. If we see him, we'll cross that bridge when we come to it. The dice should be much easier to spot, both for us and for Mordred, which makes finding them all the more urgent.”
“What makes you think they'll be so easy to spot?” asked Julian. “They're tiny and valuable. They might be locked away in safes somewhere.”
“They're insanely magical, so much so that none of these wizards knows what to do with them. The only thing they're good for is showing off. That's why the one we've got is mounted on a pendant.”
Reaching the main street, they found a few older wizards staggering from bar to bar, some alone and others stumbling in groups of two or three, singing and holding each other up.
Julian watched one old wizard trip over the threshold as he exited a bar, bend over a railing, vomit out about eight drinks, stand upright again, shake it off, then head back into the bar.
“I don't expect we'll find anything at this time of morning.”
“Maybe not,” said Stacy. “But if we do, they should be a lot easier to subdue. Let's start hitting up bars and see what we can learn.”
“Of course. That always proves educational.”
Julian peered up and down the street. No one place stood out as somewhere a dice-adorned wizard might like to spend his time.
“Where should we start?”
Stacy frowned up at the LIVE NUDE GNOMES sign. “Let's start at one side of the street and work our way to the other.”
“Nothing quite like a proper pub crawl at dawn.”
“That's the spirit. Now what do you think? Right or left?”
After having a look each way, Julian decided that right seemed like the shortest walk.
The last bar they found was called The Lucky Cauldron. The sign included a silhouetted picture of a cauldron with a pair of woman's legs sticking out of it.
“What is that supposed to suggest?” asked Julian. “It's like they're trying to sell being boiled alive as sexy.”
Stacy shrugged. “Maybe it's a wizard kink. Let's check it out.”
When they entered, Julian breathed in the heady aroma of jasmine incense. A young half-elven woman in a form-fitting black dress looked up at them with tired eyes from behind a sleek polished dark cherry bar.
“Good morning,” she said. Her tone was polite, but seemed to want to highlight the morning part of it. “What can I get for you?”
It only now occurred to Julian that all the floating drink trays were gone. Maybe that was a Happy Hour thing or something.
“We're not actually here to drink,” said Stacy. “We're looking for information.”
“Did the sign outside suggest that this is a library?”
Julian frowned. “To be honest, I wasn't sure what the sign was supposed to be suggesting. It was kind of ambiguous. I was actually just mentioning –”
“This is a pub. I deal in drinks. If you don't want a drink, I suggest you go somewhere else. Is that unambiguous enough for you?”
“Three shots of whatever you recommend, please,” said Julian, jumping in before Stacy had a chance to even further lower the ambiguity bar with her feelings over being talked to like that. “You sound like you could use a drink.”
“Sorry. It's been a rough night.” The bartender produced a large glass bottle and three shot glasses from under the bar. The bottle wasn't labeled, and the liquid inside was dark yellow, like unhealthy urine, or honey. Yes. Honey was a good comparison. Why had his mind gone to unhealthy urine first? “You wouldn't believe what some of these rich wizards think that paying for a shot of liquor entitles them to.”
“I'd believe it,” said Stacy, raising her glass once the bartender finished pouring the drinks. “I waited tables in college.” She, Julian, and the bartender clinked glasses and necked back their drinks.
It might have been good liquor, but Julian was no aficionado. All he could say about it was that it burned his throat, and it was a hell of a thing to take down before breakfast.
“Not bad, eh?” said the bartender.
“Yeah,” Julian croaked. “Smooth.”
“Ahhhh,” said Stacy, putting her glass back down hard on the bar. “That's the stuff.”
Before Julian got his voice back to object, the bartender was pouring another round.
“And don't even get me started on the young tourists. They come in here, order the cheapest stonepiss in the place, and act like I'm some kind of damsel that they're going to drag away from this sad life. Do you know how insulting that is? I own this place. I probably make a better living here than most of those idiots ever will. I mean honestly, do you know how much real estate on the Crescent Shadow goes for?”
“No,” said Stacy. “How much?”
“A lot. And I worked my ass off to save up enough money to pay for it. This was a dream I'd had for a long time, and I made it come true. And most days it's great. But then there are some days... Some days I wonder why I ever bothered.”
She and Stacy took their shots, then Stacy looked at Julian, then down at his lonely full shot glass.
“May I ask a question now?” asked Julian.
The bartender said nothing, but continued to stare at him. Stacy, also silent, nodded down to his drink.
Julian sighed. “Fine.” He gulped back the shot and put down the glass. This was not going to be an efficient way of gathering information. “How about now?”
The bartender flashed him a friendly smile. “What knowledge may I bestow upon you?” She refilled the glasses.
Julian took a quick glance to reassure himself that the place was empty, then leaned
over the bar to murmur. “We're looking for some men.”
“Go down the alley beside LIVE NUDE GNOMES and take the stairs to the second floor.”
Stacy snort-laughed.
“I probably could have opened more clearly,” said Julian. “I'm not used to drinking hard liquor this early in the morning. We're looking for some specific men, for personal, non-sexual reasons.”
“Do these men have names?”
“Probably.”
The bartender frowned. “What do they look like?”
“I don't know.”
“You're not giving me a lot to work with.”
“One of them is a halfling, wearing red robes. Then again, he might have changed them by now.”
“What about men wearing dice?” asked Stacy.
“Wearing dice?” The bartender shrugged. “I'm not even sure what that means.”
Stacy picked up her glass. “You'd know it if you saw it. Cheers.”
Chapter 22
A half moon peeked through a gap in the swiftly moving clouds. Glints of its reflection far out to sea made the water look much calmer than it sounded sloshing against the hulls of rocking and creaking ships here in the harbor.
In all his years living on the Gulf Coast, Randy had never been on a boat. Like most things, the sea intimidated him. He found it strange that he felt no such feelings of intimidation now, even as they were about to board a much more primitive vessel than anything he would have been likely to board back home. The rickety old boat looked to have been patched together from the remains of shipwrecks.
“He's a bigger bastard than I thought,” said Captain Longfellow when Randy, Katherine and Denise herded Basil nervously along the pier. They were escorted by two of the captain's most trusted crewmen, quiet men who'd only spoken to issue one-word instructions on the way from the storm drain to the ship. Neither of them so much as flinched or showed the slightest trace of disgust no matter how hard Denise came on to them. “We're going to need more planks.”
Randy doubtfully eyed the single plank serving as a bridge between the pier and the ship's deck. If Basil fell in the water, he was a goner for sure. There wouldn't be any way to pull him out before he drowned. Randy wasn't sure that another couple of planks were going to be enough.
“Are you sure we can get him across?”
“Aye! Fear not, lad. I once boarded a dire bear on here, just because another captain said it couldn't be done.” Captain Longfellow frowned. “Whether or not it was worth the damage he done to my ship be a matter of one's opinion.”
The captain's men hauled out three more planks before another problem occurred to Randy. “I'm sorry,” he called out. “Mr. Captain, sir?”
“Aye?”
“Basil's legs are aligned in two rows. I don't see how he's gonna be able to distribute his weight between more than two planks at any one time.”
“Walk him sideways, ye jism-gargling imbecile!”
“You let him talk to you like that?” asked Denise.
Randy shrugged. “He talks like that to everyone, so I'm told.” He looked back up at the captain. “He ain't trained to do that. He won't understand.”
“He'll understand a ramrod up the arse! Ha ha ha!”
Randy couldn't see how that was helpful, or even made any sense at all. “Ain't you got a harness and crane or –”
“I know what to do,” said Katherine. “Keep him calm and don't let him eat me.”
Randy stroked Basil's cheek. “Of course! You can make him small again. Why didn't we think of that in the first place?”
“That's a second level spell. I only get one of those per day. I've got a better idea.”
“What is it?”
“We'll get him to walk sideways.”
“Hey, ye twat-munching tree whore!” said Captain Longfellow.
“What the fuck did you just call me?”
“I told you,” said Randy. “He talks like that to everyone.”
“Don't be taking credit for my ideas when ye mean to board me ship!”
“My idea is a practical means to implement your idea, you peg-dicked monkey fucker!”
The crew all stopped what they were doing, making the night dead silent. Some of them stared at Katherine, while others stared at the captain.
Captain Longfellow peered at Katherine through narrowed eyes. Finally, he pointed at her dramatically. “That one,” he shouted, “rides at no charge!”
The crew roared with laughter and returned to their various tasks.
Katherine placed her palm flat on top of Basil's snout. “Speak.”
Basil groaned.
“That's very impressive,” said Randy. “And while it's a step in the right direction, I don't think –”
“Please shut up,” said Katherine. She stroked the side of Basil's snout as he groaned again. “Oh no, not you.”
They went back and forth, Katherine talking and Basil groaning. It started out innocuous enough, like how one might talk to an animal even though they knew it couldn't understand them. But Randy paid closer attention when Katherine started talking more specific like she was responding to concerns that the basilisk was having.
“I know,” Katherine said sympathetically. “It must be very confusing for you. But the people who did that to you are dead. You killed them.” … “His name is Randy, and he's sworn to look after you. He's a good person.” … “No, I'm his friend.” … “Nothing's wrong with him.” … “No, he's handsome enough, if that's your type.” … Katherine scoffed. “No, I'm most certainly not, not that there's anything wrong with that. But he is.” … “Yes.”
Basil turned his head slightly back toward Randy, then started jiggling as a strange wheezing sound came from deep in his throat like he was coughing or...
Randy scowled at Katherine. “Is he laughing?”
Katherine shrugged. “Give him a break. He's had a rough time lately. Let him have this.”
“Can we get him up on the boat, please?”
“Good idea.” Katherine focused back on Basil. “Do you think you could walk sideways for me? We need to get you on a boat.” … “It's... um... a thing made out of wood, which we use to carry us over water.” … Katherine sighed. “Jesus Christ.” … “No, sorry. It's not you. I wasn't expecting to have to... It's a material we get from cutting down trees.” … “Because you're really heavy, and we need to walk you across four wooden planks, which could break if your weight isn't distributed evenly across all of them. Then you'd fall into the water and drown.” … “That's when you're so engulfed in water that you can't breathe air and you die.” … “Yeah, I guess that would seem pretty amazing if you've spent all your life in the desert.” … “Oh shit.”
Basil groaned louder.
“What's wrong?” said Randy.
“The spell timed out.”
“Can you cast it again?”
“I've got one more, but I kind of wanted to save it for Butterbean. Let's see if he'll walk sideways for us now.”
Randy and Katherine guided Basil forward, lining him up directly in front of the planks. They each took a small step onto the plank behind them and tugged on Basil's scaly hide.
“Come on, big guy,” said Randy. “You can do it. One step at a time.”
“Come on, Basil,” said Katherine. “I'm right here with you.”
Basil's left front foot stepped out sideways, touching down next to Katherine's foot. One at a time, from front to rear, his other three feet followed.
The planks bent further than the one Randy had used to board the ship the first time, and he was almost certain they were going to snap. Hold these planks together, Jesus. He felt strange to have such a certainty that his prayer would actually be received, then he felt guilty for his lack of certainty that his prayers back home had ever been received.
Basil let out a groan which needed no translation. He was scared. Not being able to see was bad enough, but at least he could always rely on the ground being there. The instability
of the planks combined with Katherine's introduction to the concept of drowning had the poor creature terrified.
Randy laid his palm flat on Basil's skin. “Take it easy. Ain't nothin' to worry about. You're doing fine.” Randy believed it, and it was true. Basil stopped groaning. He also believed the truth of Randy's word.
Before he knew it, Randy was safely aboard the Maiden's Voyage with Katherine and Basil. When Basil stepped aboard, the whole boat leaned toward the pier, causing two of the planks to fall in the water.
“Shit!” screamed Katherine as she lost her footing and pitched toward the open water.
Captain Longfellow grabbed a rope with one hand and caught Katherine with the other.
“Never been aboard a ship before, have ye?” he said, pulling her in close.
Randy guided Basil to the middle of the deck, and the ship leveled out.
Katherine pushed herself free from the captain's grip. “A little swim wouldn't have killed me.” She gave the air a little sniff. “You could do with a wash yourself.”
Captain Longfellow grinned, showing off teeth made of a variety of precious metals. He walked around Basil's front side, keeping a safe distance.
“That's a fine big beast ye got there.” He turned to Randy. “I suppose it goes without saying that ye'll be responsible for cleaning his shit.”
Randy nodded. “Yes, sir. I understand.”
“And there be no visitation without ye being escorted by either myself or Alexei. If the passengers get wind of this, they'll panic. And the sea is no place for a panic, ye hear?”
“Yes, sir. Of course, sir.”
“Bring it this way,” said the captain, surefooted on the gently rocking ship as he proceeded to the rearmost part of the deck. He raised his left hand and twirled his fingers around.
“Aye!” shouted one of the crewmen as he started turning a winch near the rear railing. A series of ropes and pulleys came to life, and a large section of the deck revealed itself as a ramp leading down into the interior of the ship.
Captain Longfellow led the way down into the dark cargo hold. It was stark and strictly utilitarian, with no lights, windows, or any kind of adornments visible in the dim moonlight. When Randy followed, leading Basil, it seemed to occur to the captain how much room Basil was going to take up. He scooted back up the ramp, his back pressed flat against the wall as he and Basil passed each other, only daring to exhale when he was halfway back up the ramp.