by Robert Bevan
“I'll have the same,” said Stacy.
“And could you please point me to the nearest restroom?” asked Julian.
The waitress pointed to the back of the restaurant. “It's right over there.”
Julian stood up and excused himself.
Stacy sipped her drink and looked pleasantly surprised. “Try to keep it under half an hour.”
That was unnecessarily hurtful. Julian sulked on the way to the bathroom. He supposed Stacy was right to feel the way she did. He wasn't acting normal. He was fucking this up, and he was going to lose her if he didn't get his shit together.
The bathroom was an interesting design. There was a trough to pee in, like one might find at a stadium, the bottom of which sloped downward from the left side to the right. Julian guessed about eight men could piss side-by-side before the trough leveled off, the top of it covered by three two-inch-thick pieces of wood, each perfectly square, polished, and with a circular hole in the middle. Looking through one of the holes, Julian could see all the way down to the desert floor.
A couple of things occurred to him. This bathroom had no stalls, and this was the only bathroom in the place. Those wooden boards must be for anyone who needed to sit in order to do their business, man or woman, number one or number two. He made a mental note to tell Stacy she might want to hold off until they got back up to the room if she needed to go.
“What are you doing?” said Darton, storming into the bathroom and slipping on someone else's pee. He barely managed to grab on to a notch in the rough stone wall and keep himself from taking a nasty spill on the floor.
'Staring at a toilet seat' was the obvious answer, but Julian thought he could do better. “I was trying to pee, if that's okay with you.”
“I meant this whole time. I've been trying to get your attention from the other side of the restaurant. Have you forgotten why we're here?”
Julian thought for a moment while he peed. Finally, it came back to him.
“Of course I do. We just had some stuff we had to talk about.”
“Oh?” Darton's voice had a hint of concern in it. He was obviously wondering if Stacy had told Julian that he'd jizzed his pants. “What sort of stuff?”
“Stuff stuff.” Julian found it odd that Darton wasn't peeing. “Did you just come in here to watch me pee?”
“No,” said Darton. “I came in here to get you focused. Aleric of Whitewood is dining alone by the window on the northwest side of the restaurant. From where you're sitting, he's directly to the right of the fat palm tree in the center of the floor. If he's in your line of sight, he'll be easy to spot. The cane is actually on his table, head facing outward.”
Julian shook his head. “That's just desperate for attention.” He rinsed his hands in a continuously flowing waterfall on the wall opposite the piss trough, assuming that was the purpose for it being there. There wasn't any soap that he could see, so a thorough rinse would have to do.
“Sad, isn't it?” said Darton. Julian's mind was preoccupied with the lack of hand soap, and he had to mentally backtrack to understand what Darton was referring to.
“Yes. Thanks for the intel. I've got an idea.”
“What is it?”
“Nothing big. I'll run it by Stacy.” Julian walked out before Darton could respond, smugly satisfied knowing that Darton would certainly want a say in what Julian was planning, but wouldn't follow him out of the bathroom and be seen talking to him.
He scanned the dining area as he walked back to his table, casually looking for someone sitting alone with a walking cane on their table. But the fat palm tree in the center of the room, which Julian hadn't even noticed until now, obscured quite a lot. When he turned his attention to his own table, he found Stacy sniffling and wiping away a tear.
“What's wrong?” he asked, quickly sitting down.
“I'm sorry, Julian. You must think I'm such a bitch.”
“No, of course I don't.” Julian shook open a folded napkin and wiped away a tear she'd missed. “I mean, well kinda, but I like that about you.”
Stacy snort-laughed.
“What happened while I was in the bathroom?”
“The waitress overheard us.”
Julian nodded. “Yeah. A couple of times, I think.”
“She's in a relationship with an elf.” Stacy's eyes glistened with tears. “You were right. It's physiological. You guys just don't get aroused that often or that easily. Something to do with your long life spans. If you reproduced at human rates, the world would be overrun with starving elves.”
“That makes sense from an evolutionary standpoint. But is it really something to get so worked up about?”
Stacy snorted again. “No, stupid. I'm not crying because we're not going to be humping around the clock. I'm crying because I feel bad for being so mean to you.”
“Don't even give it another thought,” said Julian. “I was worried about this too. You can't know how relieved I am right now. I mean, given the way I feel about you, I thought there was something wrong with me. Let's focus on getting the rest of those dice, getting Mordred, and getting back home in our proper bodies, and maybe we'll give that humping around the clock thing a go.”
Stacy smiled and gave Julian's hand a squeeze. Tension left the table like an uninvited third –
“Ow!” said Julian. Something had struck him in the temple. Some long dead king stared up at him from the side of a silver coin which had just landed on the table. Julian looked in the direction it had been thrown from.
Darton was glaring at him with a frustrated look on his face.
Julian nodded and pocketed the coin. Now that his issues with Stacy were resolved, at least for the time being, he could once again focus on the somehow less stressful task of trying to steal an artifact from a powerful wizard.
Aleric of Whitewood was easy to spot once Julian made an effort to find him. This was in no small part due to the fact that he was so obviously desperate to be spotted. He sat at his table alone, sipping some steamy beverage from a powder blue porcelain cup, hopefully watching each person who walked by his table. His lips tightened in frustration every time someone passed without sparing a look down at his walking cane, which accounted for most of the people who passed.
“Give me the pendant,” he said to Stacy.
Stacy put her hand over her heart where the pendant hung beneath her robe. “Why?”
“I want to wear it and casually walk by his table. See if it provokes a reaction.”
“That doesn't sound like much of a plan.”
“It's not a plan. It's an attempt to shake things loose, see what happens. Maybe we'll learn something that will contribute to a plan.”
Stacy pulled the silver dragon claw pendant over her head and slid it across the table, but didn't remove her hand. “I don't have to tell you how important this is, right?”
“I think I'm at least as aware of its importance as you are.”
“I don't like the idea of flashing these around in front of so many sets of eyes, any of which could belong to Mordred.”
“That guy's already flashing his around. If Mordred's in this restaurant right now, he's probably already seen it. We've got to gamble on that not being the case in order to better our odds of being able to get one more of those dice out of the public eye for good.”
Stacy smiled appreciatively. “That was some fancy Diplomacy footwork.” She lifted one side of her hand like a clam shell, keeping the pendant shielded from view but available for Julian to take.
Julian took the pendant and slipped the chain over his head. He tucked the dragon claw encased die under Darton's robe, then walked quickly back to the bathroom. He had no excuse to walk from his and Stacy's table to Aleric of Whitewood's table, but using the bathroom as a starting point, he could casually go anywhere in the restaurant without raising any eyebrows.
Or so he assumed. When he left the bathroom, wearing the pendant above the robe, Julian pretended not to notice a few more turned he
ads and paused conversations than he was comfortable with. Making his way counter-clockwise along the windowed perimeter of the restaurant, he kept Aleric of Whitewood in his peripheral vision while pretending to take more of an interest in the view offered by the windows.
“Hey!” Aleric called out as Julian passed. Julian had set the hook. Now it was just a matter of reeling it in and figuring out how to get it in the boat.
Julian feigned being startled, then stopped and looked down at the portly man at the table. “I'm sorry. Are you talking to me?”
“I am indeed. I couldn't help but notice that curious trinket you wear around your neck.”
“Oh, this old thing?” Julian looked down at his pendant. “I picked this up some time ago in a magical oddities shop. I never did manage to get any functional magic out of it, but I like the dragon claw design.” His gaze dropped down to the cane on Aleric's table. “Oh my. I see your cane has an identically carved stone.”
“Carved? Perhaps. Now that I see an identical one, I wonder if they weren't artificially manufactured. Some apprentice wizard is probably using his master's laboratory to replicate these for a copper piece each, enchanting them with a double-folded illusion spell to give them the appearance of powerful magic, then selling them at ten thousand times the production cost.”
Julian smiled to himself. They were trying to run the same con on each other. Aleric had a better-thought-out story, but lacked the delivery skills to sell it. It was too perfect. Too memorized. Not natural sounding at all.
Julian shrugged. “Live and learn.”
“May I hold yours? I'd like to inspect it, to see if it matches mine upon a closer examination.”
A difficult situation. Julian didn't want to let the die out of his possession, but neither did he want to seem overprotective of it. He searched his mind for a compromise.
“I'll show you mine if you show me yours.” Why the fuck did I just say that?
“Of course,” said Aleric. “Be my guest.” He gestured at his walking cane.
Julian wondered what the consequences would be for just picking up the cane and running like a motherfucker. Almost certainly bad, he imagined. Aleric would have to assume the same would be true for him, and he had the added disadvantages of being seated and having Julian between him and the exit.
Reluctantly, Julian slipped the chain over his head and held it out for Aleric, who was trying his best to appear disinterested as he accepted it. Julian picked up the cane and pretended to examine it, but kept his attention focused on the pendant.
Aleric shut one eye and held the pendant up close to his open one. “Just as I thought. Cheap reproductions. Still, my niece might enjoy it to play with. I can't believe I'm about to say this, but I'll give you ten gold pieces for it.”
Nice one, Aleric. Julian quickly thought up a counter offer.
“I think I'll hang onto it for the time being. Like I said, I like how it looks on me. As a matter of fact, a matching walking cane might be something I'd part with five gold pieces for.”
“The cane itself is nice and sturdy. I'll keep it until I find another that suits me. But thank the gods you refused my offer. I might need to have my head examined. Truth be told, I don't even like my niece that much. Three gold pieces is my final offer.”
It was fascinating, like the exact opposite of a bidding war.
“That's very generous of you,” said Julian. “But I couldn't possibly –”
“Aleric of Whitewood!” said Darton, his arms spread wide as he approached, coming within a centimeter of smacking a passing waitress in the face. “I spotted you from across the room and said to myself, What's my old friend doing here dining all alone?” He sat down at the table, a move which Julian hadn't been so bold as to make uninvited. He leaned in close to peer at the pendant. “Whatever do you have there?” His eyes widened in fake surprise. “Why, it matches your cane!”
“Yes,” said Aleric. “I saw this elf walking by wearing it, and thought it the most curious thing.”
“Indeed it is.” Darton put out his hand. “May I?”
“Of course.” Aleric held the pendant over Darton's open palm without so much as glancing Julian's way for a hint of permission. It was a calculated move, meant to provoke a reaction from Julian giving away how dear the die was to him.
Amateur hour stuff. Even if it was a worthless bauble, as they were both pretending, one doesn't just hand over someone else's shit to a total stranger without permission. Julian could see straight through his motives, and wouldn't give him the satisfaction of a reaction.
“Yeee!” Julian yelped as Aleric dropped the pendant, which seemed to fall right through Darton's hand. Fortunately, Darton caught it by the chain before it hit the floor.
“Are you quite all right?” asked Aleric.
“Yes. That was a hiccup. I hiccup weird.” Clumsy-ass Darton had just blown Julian's facade of coolness. Then again, Julian shouldn't have been so panicked in the first place. It wasn't made of glass, after all. The die was nothing if not durable, meant to be thrown around. Hell, it had survived hitting the sidewalk after falling out the top floor window of the Beauregard Hotel without so much as a scratch.
Darton held up the pendant and examined it, then held it out to Julian. “You want to be careful with a prize like this. You don't want it falling into the wrong hands.” He was about as subtle as an eight-dicked gorilla jerking off at a funeral.
Julian placed Aleric's cane on the table and took the pendant from Darton as calmly as he could.
“Thank you,” he said, trying not to sound too curt. “I think I need to go to the bathroom now.” Why did he say it like that? It sounded like it was in response to what Darton said, which made it even weirder than suddenly announcing that he had to go to the bathroom without emphasizing anything.
But that ship had sailed. He couldn't very well stick around and try to diffuse it. Not going to the bathroom now would only raise the awkwardness even further.
Hoping that Darton at least took the hint, Julian excused himself, tucked the pendant under his robe, and clenched his ass cheeks as he scurried to the bathroom. If he could pull off looking like he was having an IBS attack and immediately needed to take a shit, that might help to explain the whole bathroom thing.
Naturally, when he arrived in the bathroom, a bald half-elf with a white grizzled beard was sitting on one of the square boards taking a dump. If there was anything more awkward than suddenly and ardently announcing his plans to visit the bathroom to a couple of strangers at a restaurant, it was finding said bathroom occupied when he actually had no business to conduct in there.
A series of response options formed in Julian's head like he was a Terminator.
Wait, this isn't the exit.
Oh, I guess it was just a fart.
Did you see a small child come in here?
Fuck you, asshole.
None of those options sounded great, and Julian thought he might be able to squeeze out a little more pee if he really concentrated.
The half-elf's gaze followed Julian to the other side of the trough as he hiked up his robes and aimed his dick.
“Nice weather today.”
Oh my God. Are you fucking serious? Is it acceptable in this world to talk to someone while they're holding their dick? Did this guy not have a newspaper or a spellbook he could be reading? Did he not realize that they were flying over a desert on which the gods themselves had prohibited atmospheric precipitation?
“Sure is.”
The half-elf let out a series of farts, then a small groan. “I don't recommend the pheasant.”
Shit.
“Thanks. I'll keep that in mind.”
“You having trouble?” The half-elf nodded toward Julian's dick.
“Huh? No, I just –”
A middle-aged human woman with striking red hair stumbled into the bathroom. “Make way! This dam's about to burst!” She hiked up her mint green robes, sat down hard on the board all the way to the rig
ht, then released an explosion of wet-sounding fart. “Gods' mercy,” she said between pants. “That pheasant.”
The half-elf, only temporarily distracted by the woman shitting two boards down from him, looked back at Julian. “Told you.”
The woman glared at Julian, making him realize that he was still gawking at her.
“This isn't a show.”
“I – I'm sorry!” Julian focused back on his dick, which was still not willing to give up a drop of justification for his being there.
“What's his problem?” the woman asked the half-elf.
“He's having urination troubles. Something wrong with the pipes. Probably been spending too much time in the alley behind LIVE NUDE GNOMES.”
“There's nothing wrong with my pipes!” said Julian. “I just need a little privacy.”
The red-haired woman made a show of averting her eyes. “A thousand pardons, your majesty! Wield not your scepter before us common folk.”
“Oh, come on. It's not like –”
“We'll be out of your way when we've concluded our business here,” said the old half-elf sharply. “When I was younger, the elves would spit upon our kind. I liked to think that times have changed, but I've always been naively optimistic.”
The woman patted the half-elf's knee. “Don't you let this one sour you on elves completely. There are good ones out there. I've plenty of elven friends in the city who'd never look down on their half-breed brethren.”
“I'm not looking down on you!” said Julian, pushing his bladder muscles for all they were worth, which still didn't amount to a goddamn drop.
“Ha!” barked the half-elf. “So he says while literally looking down on me!”
“I'm standing up! You're sitting down! How else am I supposed to look at you?”
The old half-elf pointed a swollen-knuckled finger at Julian. “We may be down right now, but mark my words. One day we'll rise up! See if we don't.”
“Great,” said Julian. “I hope you do.”
The red-haired woman gasped. “Even in the forest, I've never met an elf this rude.”
“What? What did I say?”
“Don't think I didn't catch your little word play there.”