Critical Failures VII

by Robert Bevan

  Denise's grin vanished as she glowered up at him. “How dare you talk about me like that like I ain't even here. I'll have you know I'm pregnant.”

  “I apologize. I meant no offense.”

  “It's alright,” said Randy. He glared at Denise as hunger challenged his patience. “He weren't talkin' about you. He was talkin' about the –”

  “No, he's right,” cried Denise. She snorted back what sounded like an entire sinus cavity full of snot as tears streamed down her cheeks. “Look at me! I look like a goddamn sow.”

  Randy patted her on the back. “You stop that right now. You're making a scene.” He smiled apologetically at the baffled server. “We'll take three fried chickens please.”

  “Make it four,” bawled Denise. “It ain't like I got a figure to worry about no more.”

  “That ain't true, Denise. I'll tell you what. After them babies is born, I'll start you on a workout. I'll do it with you. You'll be back to your old self in no time.”

  Denise pushed Randy's hand away and scowled at him through teary eyes. “Oh really? How many sit-ups do I gotta do before I grow my dick back, Randy?”

  Jay, who had been enjoying the spectacle up to now, exchanged a confused glance with the server.

  The server gulped. “Would you care for anything to drink with that?”

  “You got beer?” asked Randy, figuring everyone could use one right about now. When the server nodded, Randy turned to Jay. “Beer okay with you?”

  Jay nodded. “You're goddamn right it is.”

  Randy looked up at the server. “Three beers please.”

  The server left their table looking like he was being airlifted out of a war zone. When he opened the door, Randy caught sight of the halfling they'd met on the street talking with another one of the restaurant workers. A cook, judging by the band holding his hair back. The halfling smiled meekly at Randy, then nodded at the cook, who produced a coin from his pocket and placed it in the halfling's palm.

  The server exchanged a few words with them, then the halfling and cook nodded and laughed.

  When the door closed, Jay leaned over to Randy and whispered, “What do you think that was all about?”

  Randy shrugged. “I don't think it were nothing.”

  “You don't think that little guy could be a spy for Mordred? He's the one who sent us here. What's he doing sneaking around the back of the place?”

  “I wouldn't call that sneaking,” said Randy. “He saw us lookin' at him and didn't try to hide or nothing. I reckon he works for the restaurant, trying to drag in new customers off the street. Besides, it ain't like we gave him any valuable information. He didn't ask where we was going. He was probably just telling those guys about Denise's unusual proposal in the alley.”

  Jay laughed. “I guess I could see that.”

  “Oh sure, laugh it up,” said Denise between sobs. “We'll see how funny it is when you offer up your body for a man to jizz on, and he rejects you. Maybe I ain't as hot as I once was, but I still got feelings, goddammit!”

  “I'm sorry,” said Jay, glancing around to see how much attention Denise was continuing to draw their way. “That was insensitive of me.” When Denise got her crying under control, Jay leaned toward Randy. “We should still stay alert in case these guys do start asking suspicious questions.”

  Randy nodded. “Ain't nothin' wrong with being careful.”

  The server returned with three tall glasses of beer and placed them on the table, then reached into his apron pocket.

  “Please forgive me if this is too intrusive,” he said to Randy. “My wife is also expecting, and the past few months have been... turbulent.” He produced a small vial of red liquid out of his apron pocket and placed it on the table next to Denise's beer. “This may help take the edge off your sudden changes of temperament.”

  Denise eyed the vial warily. “That ain't coochie blood, is it?”

  “No, of course not. It is a sedative derived from moonflower seed oil. It will cause no harm to your unborn children.”

  “I ain't worried about those little freaks. They's being protected by the gods or some shit.”

  The server backed away with a polite fake smile. “Your faith is inspiring. I shall return soon with your chickens.”

  Randy was starving now, and wondered if one chicken would be enough to sate his hunger. Who knew when they were going to have another satisfying meal?

  “What do you think?” Jay asked as soon as the door closed behind the server.

  “I'll see how it goes with the first one,” said Randy. “If I'm still hungry halfway through, I'll order another one.”

  Jay's lips tightened. “I was talking about the drug that dude just gave Denise. That doesn't seem suspicious to you?”

  Randy shrugged. “Not really. I mean, what's the point of only drugging one of us?”

  Jay thought about it for a moment. “I guess that's true. And if they were going to drug us, they would just put it in our food. They wouldn't give us the drugs and trust us to take it our–”

  “Denise!” cried Randy when he spotted her empty vial.

  “What?” said Denise. “Jesus, Randy. Hush down a little. You're makin' a scene.”

  “Did you take that medicine?”

  “Fuck yeah, I did. You said yourself there weren't no harm in it.”

  “I said I didn't think there would be any harm. Now I ain't so sure. Maybe it ain't poison or nothin', but now that I think about what they used to use in medicine back in the day, what if it's got cocaine in it or something?”

  Denise snorted. “Please. It ain't fuckin' cocaine. If it was, they wouldn't be giving that shit out to strangers, would they?” He raised a fist to Jay. “Ain't that right, brother?”

  Jay smiled, but did not return Denise's fist. “I'm not sure why you'd look to me as an authority on the matter.”

  “It's just like the man said. A mild sedative to help with my mood swings. And I'll tell you what, I got to admit to feelin' pretty goddamn good right now.” She let out a loud belch, then covered her mouth. “I beg your pardon.” She held her arms out wide, then looked at Randy and Jay with fresh tears in her eyes. “Come on. Bring it in. I love you motherfuckers.”

  Randy and Jay exchanged a glance, then leaned in to accept Denise's hug.

  They practically had to pry themselves away from her when the server returned with their food. He placed a whole fried chicken in front of Randy and Jay, and two in front of Denise. Her wide eyes and open mouth suggested that she'd abandoned any concerns she had about her figure.

  The server didn't stop with the chicken, though. He also set down a bunch of smaller dishes. Some had colorful dipping sauces, others had chopped onions, cloves of raw garlic, cloves of pickled garlic, chopped cabbage, and other vegetables that Randy couldn't identify. The last dish he set down was a little larger and rectangular. It had a bunch of skinny bright yellow peppers on it, each about as long as Randy's middle finger but only as wide around as a pencil. Jay picked one up, idly examined it, then nibbled the tip.

  “How is it?” asked Randy. “Is it spicy? I can't handle a whole lot of spice, else I'll spend the whole next day on the shitter.”

  Jay shook his head. “It's not so bad. Got a little kick to it, but I've had –” His eyes widened and started to water. “Son of a bitch.” He dropped the pepper and grabbed his beer with both hands, then gulped it back like he was trying to put out a fire.

  The server laughed heartily, and Randy wondered if Jay had been right in his suspicions about this place.

  “What is it?” Randy asked the server. “What's wrong with him?”

  “Nothing a little more time and beer won't fix. I take it that was his first experience with salamander tongues.”

  Jay spat out his beer, and Randy took a closer look at the peppers. They had stems and leaves sure enough.

  “Did you say salamander tongues?”

  The server laughed. “The colloquial name for Maldivian peppers, because of their
shape and intensity of flavor. They're quite popular among seafaring folk, who claim it wards off scurvy.” He leaned in a little closer. “But between you and me, I think they just enjoy showing off their tolerance for pain. May I bring you another glass of beer?”

  “Yes, please.” Jay's voice sounded like he'd aged sixty years.

  By the time they were all satisfied, they'd drunk at least twenty beers between them, and finished off an additional three chickens.

  “That was an excellent meal,” said Denise as Randy paid the server.

  “Why thank you, good lady. You are most kind. I shall pass your compliment on to the cook.”

  Denise had been uncharacteristically pleasant throughout the entire meal, not once making a racial slur or pulling her titties out. Randy wondered if it was because she was too engrossed in her food, but now he strongly suspected it had more to do with whatever was in that vial. When the server left, Randy got up and followed him.

  “Excuse me,” he said. “I wonder if you got any more of them sedatives?”

  The server smiled. “I thought you might ask.”

  “It's just that we got a journey ahead of us, and Denise can test the limits of a man's patience at the best of times. I'll gladly pay you for however many you got left.”

  “Save your coin, friend. My brother is an alchemist, and moonflowers are abundant. I ask only that, wherever the winds take you, you tell others how much you enjoyed the food here.” From his apron pocket, he produced three more red vials and offered them to Randy.

  “You can be sure about that, but I insist that you take at least a little something.” Randy pulled a gold coin out of his coin pouch and swapped it for the three vials, hoping it wasn't an insulting amount. He'd made a habit of equating a gold piece to a US dollar for the ease of comparatively valuing silver pieces and copper pieces, but he suspected it was worth more than that. Their whole meal had cost just under three gold pieces, after all, and they hadn't exactly been showing a whole lot of restraint.

  The server took Randy's hand in both of his and bent over to kiss it. “May the gods guide you safely to your destination.”

  Randy took that to mean the gold piece was an adequate offering.

  When another group of hungry customers came through the door, Randy saw that the sky was turning pink. They'd spent more time in here than he thought.

  “Thank you kindly,” he said to the server. “We best be on our way now. We got a boat to catch.”

  “Fare thee well, friends.”

  Randy returned to their table to find Jay leaning back in his chair like he was in a post-Thanksgiving-dinner coma, and Denise trying to suck the last remnants of meat from one of the chicken carcass's ribs.

  “Pack it up, guys. We gotta get to the ship before sundown.”

  The sun was touching the western horizon when Randy finally herded his two sluggish companions out into the street, and he feared they might be too late.

  “Farewell and adieu to you fair Spanish ladies!” Jay and Denise belted out from behind him. “Farewell and adieu, you ladies of Spain!”

  Randy turned around. “Are you drunk?” He felt a little tipsy himself, but Jay and Denise were holding each other up as they stumbled after Randy.

  “For we've received orders for to sail back to Boston, and so nevermore shall we see you again!”

  It made sense that Jay would be drunk, considering how empty his stomach must have been when he started drinking, and how fast he was sucking down beers after that nibble of salamander tongue. And now that he thought about it, Randy supposed that Denise might be less intoxicated from the alcohol, and more intoxicated by the happy sauce their server had given her.

  “Come on, you two. Y'all can sing your hearts out once we get to the ship, but we gotta move a little faster.”

  Jay and Denise glanced at each other, then back at Randy. “Farewell and adieu to you fair Spanish ladies!”

  Randy sighed. A third of the sun had disappeared behind the spires of the king's palace. They weren't going to make it at this pace. He didn't like the thought of having to break out the nuclear option inside the city, but he didn't see any other choice.

  “Basil!”

  Chapter 30

  “What do we do now?” asked Chaz as he and Julian entered the lobby of the Ivory Palace. “Maybe we could tell the concierge we're holding open auditions for fat men to be part of our act?”

  Julian pretended to consider it for a moment. “I think maybe we should start with the least-stupid ideas, and work our way up from there.”

  “I'm not hearing anything from you.”

  “It's probably around lunchtime,” said Julian.

  “Good,” said Chaz. “I'm fucking starving.”

  “Me too, but that's not what I meant. It stands to reason that we might have a good chance of spotting the man we're looking for in the hotel restaurant.”

  Chaz frowned. “Because he's fat?”

  “No!” Julian whispered. “Because it's fucking lunchtime.”

  Trying to lead by example, Julian strolled across the lobby toward the restaurant where he'd witnessed Darton – AKA Tim – get arrested... or more probably rescued. Once Tim had swapped out the real die for the phony one, he must have flashed a signal to his goons to haul him out of there. The perfect excuse to ditch Julian and Stacy.

  Two hulking half-orcish guards wearing ivory togas to match the hotel's décor stood outside the restaurant entrance, each holding a long spear. Julian had nagging feeling that they were eyeing him suspiciously as he approached, but he told himself that was just his apprehension feeding his imagination, exacerbated by his hyper-self-awareness that he was dressed like a sultan's concubine. His suspicion was confirmed, however, when they crossed their spears to block him and Chaz from entering.

  Shit! My cover is blown. I need to get out of –

  “Only guests of the Ivory Palace may enter the dining area,” said the guard to the left of the entrance.

  “Oh,” said Julian, relieved that he wasn't being arrested. “We're terribly sorry.” He turned around to leave, thinking they might be better off staking the place out and confronting the fat wizard when he exited the hotel, but Chaz stood his ground.

  “Do you have any idea who you're talking to?” Chaz challenged the stone-faced spear-wielding hotel staff.

  Julian grabbed Chaz by the sleeve. “Come on. We'll eat somewhere else.”

  Chaz shook his arm free of Julian's grasp and got up in the face of the half-orc who'd spoken. “I'm a fucking celebrity, that's who. I'm the hottest ticket in town, so how about showing me and my friend a little respect?”

  The half-orc's expression betrayed no emotion as they both continued to stare straight ahead. “Only guests of the Ivory Palace may enter the dining area.” His repetition was so identical to the first time he'd said it that Julian wondered if the guards might be illusory, magically triggered to say that whenever a predetermined set of conditions were met. It was possible, then, that he and Chaz might be able to simply walk straight through them if nobody else was watching. He was about to suggest it when Chaz started mouthing off some more.

  “I hope you've enjoyed working here, because I'm going to come back in a couple of days when I've got this whole goddamn island eating out the palm of my hand, and you'll be kissing your jobs goodbye. Do you have families? I'm going to make them watch while you lick my balls.”

  The two guards' professional stares faltered for a moment as they glanced bewildered down at Chaz.

  Julian supposed they were just very well trained and was grateful he hadn't tried to walk through them.

  “It's YOU!” cried a throaty voice from behind them.

  Shit! My cover is blown. I need to get out of –

  “YEEEOOOOW!” cried Julian as Ravenus's talons dug deep into his shoulder. “What was that for?”

  “My humble apologies, sir. You told me to give your shoulder a squeeze when I identified the man you were looking for.”

 
There was indeed a fat man rushing toward them. His pearly white teeth gleamed through his bushy black beard as he waddled across the lobby, right past Julian, and stopped in front of Chaz.

  “You are the singer I saw this morning, aren't you?”

  Chaz winked up at the guard. “Now that's how you show someone their due respect.” He turned to the fat wizard and tossed his hair. “Why yes. Yes I am.”

  “Your show was amazing. Unlike anything I've ever heard before. I will admit there were a number of references I did not understand, but I was moved by the melody and your smooth, rich voice.”

  “Thank you,” said Chaz. “I really appreciate that. I hope you'll come see me again tonight.”

  “Name the place, and I shall be there!”

  “I'll be at the Mortar & Pestle again. Hopefully, my manager can book me bigger venues in the future.”

  “Dude,” said Julian, taken aback by Chaz's accusatory tone. “I've been your manager for, like, fifteen minutes.”

  The fat wizard wiped sweat from his brow with a pink handkerchief. “Might I be so bold as to invite you to join me in a midday meal? That is, of course, presuming you have not already dined.”

  “Fuckin' A, you can be so bold!” said Chaz. “Let's dine, baby.”

  When the wizard took a step toward them, the two guards uncrossed their spears, allowing him to pass through with Julian and Chaz.

  Chaz paused in the entrance to grab his crotch and address the half-orc he'd been verbally harassing earlier. “You better bring some honey, son. You're gonna lick these balls.”

  Julian immediately recognized the table he and Stacy had sat at, but the hostess led them to a table on the other side of the room, nearer where Aleric of Whitewood's table had been. The place was crowded with wizards, some of whom nudged each other and pointed out Chaz as he strutted between their tables.

  “Today's options are the cockatrice filet and the kraken calamari,” said the hostess as she passed them menus which pictured what looked like a giant squid and a deformed chicken. “Take your time in deciding. Your server will be along shortly.”