by Jay Key
“We didn’t quite choose to come to Neprius.”
“Interesting.”
I knew he was going to say that.
“It was more that we hitched a ride, you could say.”
“Hitched a ride? What do you mean?”
“We actually were hoping that you could help us out with this? We essentially were gobbled up by a giant red star blob—and it conveniently dropped us off on your front doorstep.”
The priest paused as if to collect his thoughts.
“Can you describe this ‘star blob’?”
“Sure. It first appeared in one of our favorite bars—“
“In a bar? As in a place to consume beverages and to partake in assorted merriment?”
“Yes, a bar. And yeah, it was much smaller then but kept trying to break in through the wall, but Queen Joe—she’s the proprietor of the joint—said it decided to stop bugging her about the time that Ishiro and I left.”
Duke noticed the Neprian’s increased concentration.
“Then Ishiro and I had some business dealings with some Jungafallowians—”
“Jungafallowians?”
“Smelly creatures. Terrible taste in music. They are of no consequence.”
“Did these Jungafallowians send this ‘thing’ to kill you?”
“Oh no, they’re way too moronic for that. But once we parted ways with these Jungafallowians—”
Ishiro snorted at Duke’s choice of words to describe their encounter with Prince Korzo-Tapor.
“—our little astral friend resurfaced. And he wasn’t so little.”
“What did you do?”
“We didn’t do much. We couldn’t do much. We held on as tight as we could as he swallowed us whole.”
“This is quite—”
“Let me guess: interesting?”
“I’m sorry, I will think of another word to use in its place,” Vernglet said with an apologetic curtsy.
“Just messing with ya’, Vern. But, in a blink of an eye, we were deposited, ship and all, in the friendly neighborhood we now know as Neprius.”
“Wow, quite an interesting—I mean, fascinating—journey.”
“So, Ishiro and I were kinda hoping that someone here might know what this is all about. Why would this unknown disturbance in space want to plop anyone or anything down in your general vicinity?”
“I am afraid that I am unaware of any such disturbances. When we get to the center of Dre’en, I can ask some of my colleagues. We have a few priests that concentrate on all things in the sky and space. They might be of better assistance.”
“Can’t hurt,” replied Duke, though his tone was tinged with pessimism. “Anyways Vern, we’ve talked enough about ourselves. Tell us about Neprius. And Dre’en. And your fascination with orbs.”
“My new comrade, it is not a fascination with orbs—it is a fascination with the Orb.”
“The Orb?”
“Yes. The Orb That Controls Everything and Must Be Respected.”
Neprius is in dire need of a good advertising agency, thought Duke.
“It is the reason for our being, our salvation, and our progression. Our leader and our savior is the almighty Orbius, the Orbmaster of the Orb That Controls Everything and Must Be Respected.”
“Orbius?”
“Yes, the Orbmaster of the Orb.”
“Redundancy aside, what does that actually mean? This might shock you but Orbmaster is not a common occupation in most parts of the universe.”
“Orbius is the Orbmaster of The Orb, the Sultan of the Sphere, the Guardian of the Globe, He Who Controls the Orb that Controls Everything and Must Be Respected. He is our savior.”
“So is that what he puts on his business card?”
High Priest Vernglet Wip did not laugh.
Chapter 10
A Library with Less Sex
THE VIEW FROM THE WINDOW framed the town square of Dre’en. The sun was setting; nightfall was imminent, but a few shafts of radiant orange peeked from behind the buildings. The square itself was actually almost circular, with the center plaza made of the same polished stone as the road into Dre’en. At the rear of the cul-de-sac an ornate set of steps led up to an equally ornate door of a single unornamented tower, stark and plain. The dour building and its indulgent entrance seemed an unhappy marriage. Two Neprians—clothed in the same manner as Vernglet—stood guard outside. More nondescript buildings of muddy stone and auburn timber encircled the court, punctuated only by the single road. Rising from behind the structures was the continuation of the wall where Duke LaGrange and Ishiro’shea had met Vernglet Wip.
“My friends, is this accommodation up to your standards? I know you have traveled to many exotic and, no doubt, luxurious lands with opulent lodgings; I hope that you will not be disgusted with our quaint room. The view of the heart of Dre’en is the best that we have.”
“It’ll do, Vern,” said Duke as he peered out onto the arcade. “This is the southern jewel of Neprius, eh?”
“Why yes, Mr. LaGrange.”
“Doesn’t seem to be a whole lot of folks. Where’s the foot traffic? The hustle and bustle? The actual Neprians? I mean, since Ishiro and I met ya’, we’ve strolled through ninety percent of Dre’en on that road and have only seen you—and those two guards out there standing next to that interesting-lookin’ door. See Vern, now you got me saying ‘interesting.’”
“Ah, yes, Mr. LaGrange. That ‘interesting’ door is the entrance to our most beloved building—the Altar House of the Orb. And, believe me, you will meet many of our lovely residents. It happens to be a day of work for many of us, and clergymen like myself are busy preparing for our evening services.”
“What about the villages that we passed before we came into the city? They looked as if they’d been recently abandoned.”
“Oh, no, I assure you—they are not abandoned. The villagers are working.”
“All of them?”
“Yes, all of them. And they tend to be shy.”
“Do they all work together?”
“I almost forgot—you said you wanted to discuss the red ‘blob’ with our star scholars, yes? I will arrange an appointment first thing in the morning with our leading minds. You will be impressed with their celestial knowledge. If there is anyone on Neprius that can provide you some direction or insight that relates to your cosmic query, it will be one of our scholars here in Dre’en. We haven’t quite figured out space travel as your species has, but we are very aware of the possibility thanks to the presence of our savior. Maybe one day we will earn Orbius’ trust and he will teach us the ways of travel amongst the stars.”
“Thanks. But what about—”
“Mr. LaGrange, I do apologize but I need to run down to check on a few things for the evening services. You and Mr. Ishiro’shea get comfortable, and I will send someone up shortly to escort you both to dinner. I think you will like our local cuisine. Until then…”
The door shut quickly. Duke could hear Vernglet scurry down the hallway at a frantic pace.
Ishiro tapped Duke on the shoulder.
“Yep, I noticed it too. He seemed a bit squirrely about those villagers and their ‘jobs.’”
The ninja looked around at their surroundings without appearing to focus on anything in particular in their wholly uninteresting room. Duke knew that he was uneasy—and had been since they met Vernglet Wip and trekked through Dre’en.
“I know, little buddy. Something doesn’t feel right. But then again, it might just be that it’s been a bumpy ride since we decided to hit up Joe’s—and we’re projecting our bad luck onto this situation as well.”
Ishiro shrugged his shoulders. He’s not going to buy that.
“I knew we totally should’ve gone to Goddess Larry’s Gin Palace for drinks instead.”
His companion smirked. Duke hoped that Ishiro’shea appreciated his attempt to lighten the mood.
“I wonder how this Neprian cuisine stacks up. Can’t be any worse than a Me
chaBurger, right?”
Duke propped Betsy up in the corner of the room and sat down on what he assumed was a bed. The cube-shaped furnishing seemed to combine the roles of mattress and frame—the bottom was plush and buoyant—the top was made of something resembling iron, if the iron had been frozen in the tundra of Garlomb for a thousand cycles and then encased within the impenetrable metal of the blacksmiths of To-To Megro Minor.
“Yeah, definitely not a five-star establishment.”
Duke wiggled his posterior until he got as comfortable as he was going to get, then stretched out his legs and placed his hat beside him on the bed.
“A bit better. So what do you think is up? Do you think he knows something about the astral anomaly that gobbled us up?”
Ishiro shook his head.
“Really?”
The ninja pointed up at the sky and then proceeded to retreat to a cowering position.
“You know, Ishiro, you’re right. He did seem shocked when I mentioned the blob. It’s almost as if he was startled—then realized he needed to collect as many facts as possible. But to what end? Did we stumble on—or through, I suppose—some sacred religious wormhole? Seems a bit far-fetched—even for us. All he seems to care about is that damn Orb That Does Stuff and the all-powerful Orbius.”
The ninja offered only another shrug.
“Have we considered the possibility that maybe he’s just a weird dude? He loves orbs and crops and seems to think that this boring-ass city is somehow the ‘jewel of the planet.’ Yikes. It’s more like a library—but with less sex.”
The ninja placed his katana on a stone shelf that protruded from the wall. He walked to the window again and studied the plaza intently.
“After a good meal—well, I guess I shouldn’t get ahead of myself—after a meal and a good night’s sleep...”
Ishiro walked over and thumped the “mattress.”
“...fine, after a horribly uncomfortable night’s sleep, then we can talk to those astronomy priests and figure out as much as we are going to. We can keep an eye out for any funny business and, by midday, we’ll be back at the Deus. Sound good?”
Ishiro’shea agreed to the plan with a nod of his head. He turned back to the window and continued to study the plaza as the night finally swallowed the last remaining flickers of sunlight.
“So, any clue on what Neprians eat? I have a feeling we’re going to be underwhelmed.”
Chapter 11
Ploob Kalarti
“I MUST SAY, VERN. I’M impressed. Stuffed and impressed. What do you call this again?”
Duke held up a half-eaten conical fruit covered in minute violet fibers.
“Ah, a personal favorite of mine—ploob kalarti. They can only be grown in southern Neprius. Where I come from—far north of here—we are sadly denied adequate ploob kalarti harvests.”
“Bummer. What’s this?” A slight gaseous belch escaped the bounty hunter at the conclusion of his question.
“That is roast leg of greattu; a local delicacy as well. It is an agile six-legged bit of fauna—about the height of Ishiro’shea but with horns. They feed off of the ploob kalarti fields—that is why their meat is slightly syrupy but with the right amount of acid to cut the rich sweetness.”
“Well, I’m a fan. And it was nice to meet some of the other priests. We were starting to think that you were on this rock alone. They were some good dudes, a little high strung—but, all in all, y’all are a decent lot. What were the twins’ names? They were some characters!”
“Twins? Oh, Hoblet and Delix? They are not twins, Mr. LaGrange. In fact, Delix is considered quite attractive in our race—and poor Hoblet...”
“He relies on his personality, huh?”
“You could say that.”
“Well, I liked ‘em, nonetheless. A pretty okay crew ya’ got here, if you ask me.”
“I am so pleased to hear this. Mr. Ishiro’shea, I see that you have not consumed quite the same quantity as Mr. LaGrange. Was everything to your liking?”
Ishiro’shea nodded politely and tilted his plate upward to show the priest that he had finished off the majority of his ploob salad.
“Very nice.”
“Did you manage to get us on the schedule with your scholarly cats tomorrow to chat about our favorite little cosmic incursion?”
“I am very glad that you asked. Yes, I did. We will meet with them tomorrow in the late morning at their laboratory. It is merely across the plaza and directly to the right of the Altar House.”
“Very good. Oh, how did your last-minute preparations for the evening’s event go?”
“Oh, all is well. Thank you for asking.”
The rugged playboy tipped an invisible hat.
“My friends, it is time for me to head over to the Altar House for our services in honor of the Orb. I hate to leave you, but you know your way back to your room, I believe. Try and get some sleep. Your journey would tire even the most stamina-blessed traveler.”
“Cheers to that, Vern!”
“I will come and get you in the morning.”
Vernglet stood up and exited the dining hall.
“Looks like we might’ve been wrong about ol’ Wip. Usually when there is something afoot, the food sucks.”
Ishiro agreed.
“Let’s just hope those eggheads can help us in the morning.”
The ninja nodded and swiped an untouched ploob kalarti for the walk back to their room.
The duo proceeded down the dimly-lit corridor that led to their chamber. It was slightly dank and smelled musty with a dash of concentrated cleaning solution.
“They really should redecorate this joint. The haunted castle craze is so seven cycles ago. I guess they get a pass—they probably don’t get a lot of fashion trends from—”
A muffled shriek echoed around the hallway. Both Duke and Ishiro’shea paused.
“That’s coming from the dining hall.”
Duke lowered his shoulder and rushed the dining room door. Now this is going to be an entrance!
The collision was not as loud as he had hoped—and the outcome was definitely nowhere in the vicinity of what he had in mind. With a subdued thud, Duke LaGrange collapsed to the floor of the hallway like a soggy noodle losing a limbo contest. He sat up and cleared his head.
“Well,” he grimaced, “what’s Plan B?”
Ishiro’shea stealthily glided past the recovering Nova Texan and examined the door intently. The muffled screams that they had heard moments before had stopped as soon as Duke collided unsuccessfully with the door. Ishiro’shea continued to examine it with a surgical focus. He extended his right hand to the octagonal knob, clutched it tightly and turned.
Click. The door swung open.
“It wasn’t locked? Suspicious noises and cries for help are almost always behind locked doors. Sloppy work from these chaps; if they turn out to be bad dudes, that is. Neprian criminals have a lot to learn about being sneaky and shady.”
Duke’s train of thought was interrupted as the dining room came into full view. The table at which they had feasted was mostly cleared away; only a few plates of half-eaten greattu and goblets of an overly-sludgy liquid laughably referred to as “nectar” remained. In the far-left corner, facing the wall, was a Neprian priest. Directly below him, crouched and recoiling, was another life form, much smaller than the Neprian and with a skin tone somewhere between bronze and carroty. It had a single stringy, unkempt mat of hair clinging to the top of its head; but outside of the unusual hairdo, slightly larger ears, and the absence of eyebrows, it looked human. More specifically, it looked like a human child.
The Neprian turned around slowly. His expression morphed rapidly, but Duke caught a glimpse of anger before his gaunt face produced a haunting smile.
“Hello again, Mr. LaGrange. Mr. Ishiro’shea.”
“Geezer, is it?”
“Geezu, Mr. LaGrange. Geezu. But very close—you are picking up our assuredly odd-sounding names like a native son of Ne
prius.”
“What—I mean who is that?”
“This troublemaker is of no consequence. I apologize for causing alarm.”
Duke ignored the Neprian’s response and walked toward the child-like creature. Ishiro followed closely.
“Mr. LaGrange, I assure you—”
“Geezer, I wasn’t aware that there were other species on this planet. Where do they live?”
Duke knelt down a few paces from the Neprian and the child-like creature.
“Hey there, it’s your ‘Uncle Duke.’ Are you a nice fella?”
“Mr. LaGrange,” Geezu interjected, “I must ask you to leave this delinquent to me as it is official priest business.”
“Official priest business?”
“Yes, Mr. LaGrange. We are very honored to have you here in Dre’en, but this situation is purely a matter for our clergy.”
“Geezer, you’re acting a little squirmy now.”
“Squirmy?”
“What’s the true story with this little guy?”
“There is no story, Mr. LaGrange. Maybe Vernglet can explain it to you at a later date. But I must ask you again to leave.”
“No story? Nothing?”
“He hit me,” squeaked a voice.
The bounty hunter froze. His brain tried to take in the child’s comments and weigh the risks of a plethora of actions that could be taken.
“And I’m a girl, not a ‘little boy.’ And I’m actually taller than most my age, so I’m not little either.”
“Geezer here hit you?” Duke asked.
“Yes.”
“You silly mongrel, I am a man of the Orb. I would not strike an inferior life form.”
“Inferior? Says who?” asked Duke.
“He makes me work in the kitchen and hits me when I’m not fast enough,” the voice chirped again.
“Is this true, Geezer?” Duke drew closer to the priest. Geezu’s almost translucent skin was pulled taut against his cheekbones.
“No, Mr. LaGrange. In your short time, you must have a good grasp of us. It is a mere child’s prank.”