Critical Failures VII

by Robert Bevan

  A long period of silence passed as Denise and Jay contemplated Randy's theory.

  “Let me get this straight,” Denise finally said. “Their time in the spotlight fades, and the band breaks up. Then Jordan Knight moves to Gulfport, Mississippi, changes his name to Mordred, and starts playing nerd games? Something about that just don't add up.”

  “Perhaps that's another theory to consider,” said Randy. “But it ain't the one I was proposing.” Before Denise could interrupt him again, Randy continued. “What if one of Mordred's six avatars was a bard? He hightails it across the sea and makes the most out of it by starting up a musical career. He calls himself Jordan Knight, passes off some New Kids songs as his own, and builds himself a following.”

  “Why New Kids?”

  Randy shrugged. “Maybe Mordred's a fan.” A darker thought crossed his mind. “Or maybe because he remembers how popular the songs were. Bards don't just play music for entertainment here like they do back home. Their music wields power that can affect people's minds. Think of the kind of power he could wield with that kind of following.”

  Denise's face turned pale. “That's why he skipped town.”

  Randy wasn't sure where he was going with that logic. “You think Cardinians' musical tastes are too refined for Hangin' Tough?”

  “No. He could have done as well in this shithole as any other. But all that talk about superpowers got me to thinking about Spider-Man.”

  “I'm not sure you understand how serious this could –”

  “Will you just let me finish a goddamn thought for once, Randy?”

  Randy nodded. “I apologize. Please continue.”

  “What was Spider-Man's biggest weakness?”

  “Mary Jane?” said Jay.

  Denise looked at him quizzically. “Spider-Man had a drug habit? I ain't read the comics, but I don't recall that from the movies.”

  “That was his girlfriend's name.”

  “Oh right. No, fuck her.”

  Randy was eager to get back to more important matters, and he knew the only way to do that was to let Denise's tangent run its course. “Poverty?”

  Denise raised her eyebrows. “You're on the right track, but no.”

  Randy sighed. “I don't know, Denise. What was Spider-Man's biggest weakness?”

  “Geography.”

  “Geography?” said Jay. “How do you figure?” It was kind of him to entertain Denise's rambling.

  “The only reason Spider-Man was ever able to beat his enemies was that they was all within a few square miles of where he lived. Now think what if the Green Gobbler or Mr. Octopus went and set up shop down in Tucson or somewhere. Can you imagine Peter Pecker having to ride his little bicycle back and forth all the way across the whole goddamn country between shifts at one of his shitty jobs?”

  Jay frowned. “I'm pretty sure you got every single one of those names wrong.”

  “That's a real interesting theory, Denise,” said Randy, hoping to close the matter and move on to more important matters. “Now maybe we should talk about Mordred.”

  “Goddammit, Randy! Can't you see I was talking about Mordred? I was backin' up your theory, dumbass. That wizard Mordred who came at us with the big-ass boat and dragons and shit, he thought he was a badass and came at us straight away. The little midget Mordred tried to infiltrate this place by warming up to you and me. The dwarf Mordred thought he was protected good enough in his haunted forest. But a bard Mordred is gonna get the fuck outta Dodge for a while and get some help before he thinks about trying to attack anyone.”

  “What's that got to do with Spider-Man?”

  Denise threw up her hands. “Jesus fuckin' Christ, Randy.”

  “I believe what she's trying to say,” said Jay, “is that we are Spider-Man in this allegory, and that Mordred is one of the Spider-Man villains. Except that he's exploiting the weakness of distance to get his shit together before confronting us.”

  “That's right,” said Denise. “And that's why we got to hit him now, while he ain't expecting us.”

  Chapter 21

  Julian sat on the edge of a brook and let the running water cool his feet as he watched the sun rise over the Fertile Desert. The shady trees and abundant wildflowers were almost enough for him to be able to delude himself into thinking he was in a proper forest, if not for the bone dry desert air making his nasal cavity feel like the inside of a pizza oven every time he inhaled. He wasn't sure how many times the Crescent Shadow had teleported during the night, but he was quite certain the lush green hills being bathed in the light of dawn weren't there the previous evening.

  Leaning back against a tree, he also wondered how this brook even existed. With no precipitation coming from the sky, he guessed there must be something akin to a Decanter of Endless Water as the source. But then that begged the question of why water wasn't constantly flowing over the side. Perhaps there was a Bag of Holding or Portable Hole at the other end to swallow up whatever was left after the trees and plants had taken their fill. These were idle curiosities, though, and he didn't care enough to investigate either. Besides, it was a new day, and they had work to do.

  “Chaz, Ravenus. Wake up.”

  Chaz yawned. “Just a few more minutes.”

  “Good morning, sir!” said Ravenus, causing Chaz to sit up like a sprung mousetrap.

  “Jesus Christ, I'm up.” Chaz rubbed the sleep out of his eyes. “Where's the fucking fire?” Squinting at the sun peeking over the hills, he yawned again. “Why do we need to get up at the ass crack of dawn?”

  Julian shook the water off his feet and put his boots back on. “We're on a mission, don't forget. The more time we let slip away, the less likely it is that the dice remain on this island.”

  “What do you hope to find out this early in the morning? You saw how drunk those wizards throwing shit at us were. There's no way they'll be up before noon.”

  “There are bound to be a few early birds, or people still awake from the night before. We might be able to get more information out of them when their minds are compromised from alcohol and sleep deprivation.”

  “I don't know, man,” said Chaz. “Think about back home. Pestering random drunks on the street in the wee hours of the morning is a good way to get yourself stabbed. And you want to do that with wizards?”

  “I don't want to pester random drunks on the street. I've been thinking about how to best go about this while you were sleeping, and I think I know a good place to start. Get yourself cleaned up. Our strongest asset right now is our high Charisma scores.”

  While Chaz washed his face and hands in the brook, Julian summoned Ravenus down for a talk.

  “Here's your job,” he said. “I want you to hang out on the rooftops and keep out of trouble.”

  Ravenus scraped the dirt with a talon. “I shall do as you say, of course. But I must say, that feels like you simply want me to stay out of your way. Have I become a nuisance, sir?”

  Through their Empathic Link, Julian felt a heavy sense of being rejected. He smiled at his familiar.

  “Of course not, Ravenus! You'll never be a nuisance to me. But I need some eyes in the sky.”

  “I could go for a pair of eyes as well. I'm starving.”

  “I was referring to your eyes, to see things with. Chaz and I don't have a lot to go on, so we've got to rely on as much luck as we can make for ourselves. That's where you come in.” Do you remember those magic dice, like the one everyone was making such a fuss over at the Whore's Head?”

  “The one that shattered on the floor?”

  “That was a phony. But do you remember what it looked like before it shattered?”

  “I believe so, sir.”

  “Good. It's very important that we find those dice. The real ones, I mean. So I want you to look out for anyone who might have one. Maybe they've mounted it on a piece of jewelry, like a pendant or a big earring or something. Or it might be at the top of a walking stick. Or it could be something else. I don't know. So keep yo
ur eyes open, okay?” He felt Ravenus's heart lighten.

  “I shall not let you down, sir!”

  “You never do. But listen, I need you to be careful out there. Make sure you stay within a mile of me, and don't do anything to call attention to yourself. There could be people out here who would take you away from me again. Maybe Mordred. I hate to think it, but maybe even Tim. So don't talk to anyone.”

  “Unless they possess one of those magic dice, of course.”

  “NO!” said Julian. “If you see someone with one of the dice, absolutely don't talk to them. Just come and get me.”

  “Very good, sir. I shall be like a shadow in the night.”

  Julian nodded. “Good. Oh, there's one more thing.”

  “What is that, sir?”

  “There doesn't seem to be a lot of natural fauna here. Any other birds you see might be a wizard's familiar. So don't rub cloacas with anyone.”

  “Oh.” Ravenus scratched the ground in thought for a moment, then looked up at Julian again. “What if she makes the first move, and it would raise more suspicion for me to refuse than it would to engage in a quick cloacal kiss?”

  “Gross,” said Chaz, shaking his hands dry. “Is it really called a cloacal kiss?”

  “I'll trust you to use your judgment, Ravenus,” said Julian. “But remember that all our lives are on the line.”

  “You may rest assured, sir, that during any cloacal activity I may be forced to engage in, I shall be first and foremost thinking of you.”

  Chaz snorted.

  Julian hoped Ravenus wouldn't misinterpret the sudden pang of disgust he felt. “Okay, Ravenus. That's enough cloaca talk for now.”

  “So where's this big lead of yours?” asked Chaz.

  “It's not that big a lead,” said Julian, leading him through the small wooded area toward the populated part of the island. “Or at least probably not. There's this bar Stacy and I went to where the bartender had the hots for Tim.”

  Chaz laughed. “Isn't Tim paranoid as fuck about us right now? If this woman's trying to ride his monster halfling dong, what makes you think she's going to tell us anything we want to know? Wouldn't she be more likely to tip Tim off to us?”

  “She didn't know Tim as a halfling. He was magically disguised as a human, calling himself Darton. He was still hung up on Stacy. I think he was just stringing this poor bargirl along because she'd serve him free booze.”

  Chaz nodded knowingly. “She's a chunker, huh?”

  “What?”

  “I'm not judging. I fucked a fatty for Kid Rock tickets once.”

  Julian couldn't find the words to properly articulate his disappointment. “Kid Rock? Really?”

  “They were good seats.”

  “She isn't a fatty,” insisted Julian. “I think she just has some self-esteem issues. I don't really remember her all that well.”

  “Fine. Whatever. So what kind of information do you expect to get from her?”

  “I don't know. I was thinking we'd just go in there, start talking, and see what shakes loose. Maybe Darton didn't always come in there alone. Maybe she knows some of his associates who are still here on the island.”

  “Again,” said Chaz. “If she's trying to get in Darton's pants, why would she give up any information about him to two assholes who come in off the street asking about him?”

  They emerged from the woods to find themselves among the most modest establishments on the floating island, where young wizards who couldn't afford to stay at the ritzier inns on the main strip vomited in the streets from partying too hard the night before.

  “You're not going to ask about him right out of the gate,” Julian explained as they stepped over a snoring half-elf. “You're just going to let her talk about herself until she brings him up. Then you can start asking more specific, but not too suspicious, questions about him. The trick is to make her think your interest in him is merely peripherally about your interest in what she's talking about.”

  “What's all this you're business? You sound like you've got the whole conversation mapped out in your head. Why don't you talk to her, Mr. Diplomacy?”

  “Believe me,” said Julian. “I'd much prefer it that way. But she'll recognize me, and she'll totally clam up if I start asking about Tim.”

  “I don't want to go in there alone. Where are you going to be?”

  “Don't worry. I'll be right beside you.”

  Chaz rolled his eyes. “Give the girl some credit. Just because I'm the one doing the talking doesn't mean she's not going to be suspicious of you.”

  Julian smiled at Chaz. “She won't even know I'm there, because I'll be invisible.”

  “Ohhh,” said Chaz. “I forgot you had that ring.”

  “I don't. I gave that away to someone who needed it more than I did.”

  “Stacy?”

  “No. Some girl who was trying to kill us.”

  Chaz squinted at him. “So you mean you were mugged, and this girl took your ring?”

  “No. She was going through a hard time and she was all alone. I gave it to her so that she could stay safe while she searched for her family.”

  “Are you fucking crazy? Don't you know how valuable something like that is? I'm not just talking about monetarily. I mean practically. With all the shit we're in, and the stakes as high as they are, how could you even think about giving away something so useful?”

  “I didn't need it anymore,” said Julian. “I learned the spell.” He thought he'd just landed his checkmate, but Chaz still looked annoyed.

  “Well, what if more than one of us needs to be invisible at the same time?”

  Julian shrugged. “I can cast it more than once. It just means I won't be able to use a Web spell that day. I can't think that's going to be as big an issue as you're making it out to be.” He glanced left and right as they stepped out onto the quiet strip. “Stop thinking about the ring and put on your charming game face. That's the bar across the street.”

  Chaz grimaced. “LIVE NUDE GNOMES?”

  Julian grabbed him by the top of the head and turned it toward the far end of the strip. “Over there. The Mortar & Pestle.”

  “Oh.” Chaz shivered. “Good.”

  Julian looked up at Ravenus, perched on the rooftop of The Slippery Serpent. “You stay closer to the middle here, and please try to stay out of trouble.”

  Ravenus raised a wing as if saluting. “Very good, sir. Please be careful.”

  Julian nodded, then led Chaz across the street. Only a few old wizards were still stumbling around, but none of them gave Julian and Chaz so much as a passing glance.

  They stopped in front of the unfortunately named Wiz in a Bottle, the bar next door to The Mortar & Pestle. It must be a new place. He was sure he would have remembered that name if he'd seen it before. He was also confident that it would be replaced again by the next time he visited.

  “Okay, here we are. Remember, just be charming and let her do the talking. Maybe put your lute case down on the bar. If she asks you to play something, you can use it as an opportunity to cast a Charm Person on her. But don't offer if she doesn't ask.” As he explained, he appreciated just how intricately involved his Diplomacy skill was, not to mention a bit sketchy. “Are you ready?”

  Chaz nodded. “Not really.”

  “That'll have to do.” Julian scanned the street to make sure nobody was looking his way, then held his hands in front of his face. “Invisible.” He watched with fascination as his hands faded away before his eyes.

  Chaz poked him hard in the chest.

  “What was that for?”

  “Just making sure you're still there.”

  Julian grabbed Chaz's shoulder and turned him around. “Go inside. I'm right behind you.” He held on to the shoulder to make sure the door didn't close between them.

  The inside of The Mortar & Pestle was just as dark and dreary as Julian remembered it. Little effort had been put into the décor of the place except for the bar area. The booths looked lik
e they were made of splinters and semen, and each one had a flimsy curtain to afford the patrons a bit of privacy in the event that they cared to enjoy more than just a drink. He immediately recognized the booth Stacy had dumped him in while she attempted to Gather Information, and felt compelled to take a shower.

  One notable difference between this visit and his last, however, was the person behind the bar. Instead of a passably pretty half-elven girl, the bar was being tended by a rough-looking human man. His coarse black chest hair poked out the top of his threadbare, pit-stained shirt. Julian felt like kicking himself for not thinking of this as a possibility. Of course that poor girl didn't work there every hour of every day.

  “I take it that's not her,” Chaz muttered while trying not to move his lips.

  Julian leaned in close to his ear. “We're already here. It'll be weird if you don't go have at least one drink. Maybe he knows something.”

  “Do not be shy,” said the bartender. His voice was as gruff as his leathery sun-baked face. “I'm not going to tear your limbs off. Stop gibbering to yourself and sit down. What'll you have?” The fact that he appeared to be able to tear Chaz's limbs off made the comment feel like less of a joke and more of a not-so-subtle threat of what might happen if Chaz started any shenanigans.

  Chaz pulled back a stool from the otherwise empty bar and sat down. Julian sat two stools away, but had to sit facing away from the bar because he didn't want to risk moving the stool back to accommodate his legs.

  “Do you have a light beer?” asked Chaz meekly.

  The bartender laughed heartily and slammed a fist against the bar, rattling the recently cleaned glasses at the end of it. “A light beer, he says!” When his laughter subsided, he said, “First time on the Crescent Shadow?”

  Chaz nodded.

  “Of course it is.” The bartender turned around and scanned the shelves behind the bar. “Listen, son. This is the Crescent Shadow. You want to let loose and have some fun while you're here, right?”

  “Sure, I guess.” Chaz was not making the most of his Diplomacy check.

  “You don't want a light beer, whatever the Seven Hells that even means. Ah, here we go.” He pulled a large glass bottle of reddish-brown liquid off the shelf and turned around. “You want a man's drink. That is, unless you're a little sissy boy.” He eyed Chaz up and down, then grinned. “But I'm willing to give you the benefit of the doubt.”