by J D Astra
“Did you get it all?” Otto asked, nudging me.
I scowled as I peeled my eyes away from the strange white smoke coming from the pit. “Get all what?” I knew we’d been in a rush when we left Harrowick, but I was pretty sure I had everything.
“The city. You always stop and stare for a good minute when we get to somewhere new. I wanted to make sure you had enough time.” He grinned, tusks poking out from behind dark green lips.
I smirked. “Enough for now.”
Otto wrapped the cloak about Renzik a little tighter, pinning it at the neck with a broach engraved with “Servus Autem Populus.” “This will keep people from asking too many questions. We’re headed to a little tavern in Eastside Quarry. Hardworking types around there, some a bit rough around the edges. Don’t let them get a rise out of you.” Otto glared me down skeptically and I rolled my eyes as he went on, “I mean it. They will do anything to get some entertainment, which includes slapping you with fines for negative engagement.
“Alaunhylles has strict laws about politeness in public. Break them and you will be facing serious charges... like working in the quarry.” Otto stepped away from the apartment-style stone building and into the white cobblestone street. Renzik looked to me, fear knitted in his wrinkled forehead, then followed after Otto as I did.
Everything was clean and managed, every detail carefully designed and maintained. It was the exact opposite of hodgepodge Harrowick. More surprising was how few people were in the area.
“Where is everyone?” I asked.
Otto kept tromping along. “Working, in training, at the grove or the archives—this is one of three housing districts. We won’t see too many people walking around midday.”
My gut tightened as I thought about what this place was: Osmark’s haven. Clean, well mannered, organized. Sterile. Everyone did as they were told and minded their manners. There were no roughneck hooligans or rebels. I shuddered to think that soon this place would be under his command, and its laws could spread like a virus from city to city.
Not that there was anything wrong with being polite, but comfort and complacency bred indifference. I was sure the city was loaded with its own problems that went unnoticed because of the regular citizens’ lack of desire to care.
After fifteen minutes or so we reach a clear dividing line. The white stone architecture gave way to almost entirely wooden structures that looked as though they’d been constructed very recently.
“Welcome,” Otto said, waving a hand about the drastically different landscape, “to the Eastside Quarry.”
Not too far down the dirt road I could see men and women, not all of them Hvitalfar, walking about with all manner of mining gear. The path was caked with white, and though the buildings all looked of new construction, they were also covered in a layer of the white dust.
“I wonder where they moved to,” Otto mumbled as he made his way into the district. I turned to look behind at the white stone constructs and elegant architecture, then back front to the freshly constructed wood buildings ahead.
I took a deep breath and jogged to catch up with Otto. “Why does everything look like it was just built?”
“Because it was,” Otto replied, and I scowled at his curtness.
“Why?” I asked.
“They follow the ore veins. If one is right under a building, they have to take the building down. It’s easier when they’re all made of wood.” Otto went back to mumbling as he made turns this way and that through the oddly constructed alleyways, then backtracked.
Alaunhylles was growing stranger by the second. “If they would uproot businesses to follow a vein of ore, why even allow businesses to build here?” I asked, arms crossed as we power walked.
“Cheaper.”
Otto moved through the crowd like a dog seeking the secret spot it buried its bone. He hunted between buildings, his eyes narrowing on the signs as he did, but he’d always back out, unhappy with the results.
“Otto, where are we going?” I asked with shortening patience. The roving eyes of the district’s inhabitants were becoming more suspicious as they landed on Renzik, and I was feeling the tension that came from fear of discovery.
Otto’s gaze fell on a building in the distance and a grin spread over his face as he pointed. “There.”
Rebel Rally
OTTO LED US WITH PURPOSE through the crowds of Wodes, Hvitalfar, and Imperials toward the tavern he’d very briefly told us about. He didn’t want to say too much in public, but it was safe for “people like us.” The Boar’s Head, where we’d camped out for my class quest, was a bounty hunter safe house, and though I got no additional information out of Otto, I had a feeling this place was not like that. At least, not to Otto.
Once we were moving with a destination in mind, the wandering eyes of those around us seemed to wander less in our direction. I didn’t feel any less on edge. We were in enemy territory, and the enemy believed I was carrying the Faction Seal, an object that turned the tides of war. I clenched my fists to keep them from shaking, and to prevent accidental fireball spawning.
I coughed and realized my eyes were burning as I rubbed them for the fifth time. “That’s the marble.” Otto nodded as he patted me on the back. “It will get to you for a little while.” He passed me a small flask I was afraid to drink from, and we quickened our pace. I took a sip, expecting spirits, and sputtered at the lukewarm water that hit my tongue.
The closer we came to the building he’d pinned his eyes on, the more of a bounce his step developed. I’d only known Otto a few days, but if I was reading him right, he was excited. There was just one thing that made the tavern stand out in the cluster of nondescript wood buildings: a sign reading “DrinkZzz.” Some Dev had a sense of humor.
The white dust on the tavern door sparkled with the sun as it swung open and a pair of Hvitalfar stumbled out, laughing. The light-haired male sported arm muscles that seemed too large for his Barbie doll waist, and he was so fair skinned he looked ill. Then again, it could’ve just been the quarry dust that clung to every surface.
The female had darker, almost auburn hair, sharp features, and a vicious smile. My hackles prickled as I thought of Sandra, and I bit back the thought of lashing out. She wasn’t Sandra.
They looked Otto up and down, quieted, and straightened. The woman sneered. “You are a big one! Little far from Glome, Risi.” Her face melted to a pout and she spoke with a demeaning tone. “Are you lost?”
Otto tipped his head. “No, thank you.”
She looked next to me, then Renzik. “Ah, my brother.” The word dripped sarcasm. She pushed past me. “You’re even further from home. And what’s this?” She motioned to grab his neck clamp, and Renzik jerked back. He pulled the cloak tight about his body to hide the slaves clothes and binds, though his shoeless feet were a dead giveaway. He was starting to become more of a burden and a risk than he might be worth.
“Yes.” Otto grabbed Renzik around the shoulders and pulled him up to the door. “We figured we would give our bounty a fair meal before the journey home for trial, and the mead here is second to none.”
“Much better than sour swamp wine.” Renzik nodded vigorously and his voice shook with fear. We were screwed.
“Thank you for your help, friends.” I stepped in with a huge grin as the man opened his mouth for a jab. “We’ve got some mead to get in our bellies and a boat to be catching.”
The woman transitioned from gritting her teeth to a grimace-like smile as she spoke with her jaw clenched. “You are so welcome, friends. See you again.” She tapped her companion on the shoulder and they turned away without another word.
Otto let out a held breath and his shoulders slumped. “I’m not any good at that.”
“Being polite?” I cocked a brow at him.
He scowled and hooked his thumb toward the tavern door. Renzik looked terrified, like we’d just survived an encounter with ravenous lions. I patted him on the shoulder and mimicked Otto, hooking my thumb toward
the tavern.
We followed him into the sparsely lit bar, which had the look of an old-timey saloon. The tables were all wood, with wood chairs, and white chalky dust covered the floor. The entrance rug had hints of black and red hidden under the powdery substance, and nearly every surface had a dusting of white.
Small candles hung from holders that were nailed to support beams about the open area, but that was the only light. There were no windows, and what we’d just stepped through was the only obvious door to the outside. There was a door under the stairs at the back, but it seemed to be some kind of closet.
Otto tromped over to an open table and pulled out chairs for each of us. We sat and scooted closer to the small lamp at the center. If not for the chatter of the others, it would be a damn dreary place. It reminded me of the blackout I’d gone through with my parents twelve years ago. We hadn’t been prepared for a sun flare to take out the transformers at our power center, and ended up playing Texas Hold’em around the glow of lit strings in pats of butter. My mom was a genius, just not the kind that got nominated for awards. She was the kind that saved families from darkness in mini blackout crises.
A rail-thin Dawn Elf man in a blue apron with his long hair in a messy bun approached. “Good afternoon. What would you like to have?”
“Do you still have the Quarry Grub?” Otto asked, a twinkle in his eyes.
He smiled and nodded. “We will always have the Quarry Grub, our signature dish.”
“Three of them, please, and three meads. A small mead for this one.” Otto jerked his head toward me. I frowned and he shrugged, saying, “You remember what happened last time.”
I waved it off. I hadn’t been that drunk, and we were going to get in a fight whether I’d been drinking or not.
“I’ll return shortly.” The man bowed and stepped away.
I leaned in. “So, what’s really here?”
“Safe house,” Otto mumbled through pursed lips.
“Safe for who?” I asked as I cast a glance around the room. It was mostly quarry workers, it seemed, but the red garb of an Imperial soldier was easy to spot among the chalky-white masses.
The aproned man returned with two large cups and one sippy-sized cup of mead. I stared down at the three gulps in the wooden container.
“Is it unsatisfactory?” The messy-bunned man asked.
“No!” Otto blurted. “This is exactly what we wanted. Thank you.”
The Hvitalfar man blinked a few times as he stared at Otto, then stepped away. Otto sighed as he left, shoulders drooping in relaxation. “Trust me,” he said, “you don’t want to spend the evening in a Manners Camp, and you definitely don’t want to spend a few weeks in the quarry.”
“So, if this is a safe house, how do we get in?” Renzik pulled the cup of mead to his lips and took a long drink with his eyes closed. I imagined this was the first drink he’d had of something other than water for a while.
“Be patient,” Otto mumbled, his own cup at his lips.
I looked down at my tiny wooden vessel and pursed my lips. “I’m going to need a refill.”
“You haven’t had what’s there,” Otto protested.
I slammed back the five ounces in two gulps, just to rub it in. I wished I hadn’t. The mead was divine. Apples, honey, cinnamon, with a strong alcoholic bite. It reminded me more of flavored rum than honey wine.
I hummed my approval of the beverage. “You’re right, Otto, this stuff is great.”
Our server returned with a tray carrying three steaming bowls. He set each one in front of us, then stood to the side. I went into my inventory and removed a gold coin. When I reached across the table to hand it to him, I realized by the disgusted expression on his face it wasn’t what he was waiting for.
“Take a bite,” Otto hissed through the side of his lips as he raised his spoon to his mouth.
I looked down into the bowl and took a whiff. It smelled of smoky meat and mild cheese, but my eyes picked out several green masses I couldn’t detect with my nose. It looked like grits mixed with stir-fry, but V.G.O. hadn’t let me down in the food department yet, so I picked up my spoon and scooped out a bite.
I blew on the mouthful twice and shot a grin to the waiter as I retracted my coin-passing arm. The etiquette here was baffling, especially for an establishment like this. When in Rome, I supposed.
I put the spoon in my mouth and pulled it away clean. The white, grainy goop was definitely not grits, but some kind of cheesy gravy. I still wasn’t certain about the green chunks, but they were something akin to brussels sprouts. There were definitely meat chunks in the bite, but I couldn’t tell if it was thick pork belly or something else.
A notification appeared in my vision as I swallowed.
<<<>>>
Well-Fed: Quarry Grub
You are well fed by the Quarry Grub, a miner’s delight! Your Stamina regeneration is increased by 40% for two hours!
<<<>>>
V.G.O. didn’t disappoint yet again. The strange slop was delicious, and the buff was top notch. I nodded a few times and looked to Otto for the next move. He sat back, chewed carefully, then pulled some coin from his inventory.
“Thank you.” He passed the three silver to the Hvitalfar, who bowed his head and accepted the coin. Otto pushed my gold-holding hand back to my lap.
The Boar’s Head prices must have been incredibly inflated if three silver covered three meads and three bowls of grub, even if one of the meads was baby-sized. I ferried the coin back to my total and looked up at the waiter, who wore a slight smirk that didn’t seem malicious.
“Will that be all you need of me?” He asked Otto since Renzik was wrist deep in his bowl, scooping food into his mouth, and I obviously didn’t know what I was doing.
“Yes, we are satisfied. Thank you.” Otto dipped his head, as did the server, and then the Hvitalfar hurried away. The moment he departed, Otto dug into his grub.
“That was quite the encounter,” I murmured and pushed another spoonful in my mouth.
Otto grunted in response, but kept his eyes on the food. Ah, right, he was starving. Otto had refused to take any of the provisions Meredith had given us, saying I needed my strength. And if I was hungry, he must’ve been ravenous.
I let the hungry boys eat in peace as I devised our next steps. The Grand Archive was our eventual destination, but considering all of the inhabitants’ odd or even hostile behavior, it was unlikely we’d get in without some kind of struggle. We needed to get Renzik out of that clamp ASAP. He was a huge magnet for attention, and I wasn’t sure how long the bounty story would hold up.
The chair across from me scraped loudly as a thin Risi man jerked it out, spun it, then sat the wrong way. Thin was how I saw him because I was comparing him to Otto, but he was still much more muscled than me. His toned arms sported tattoos that promised pain, one in particular of a spearhead coated in blood.
The Risi had both sides of his head shaved down to the nub, with black stubble peppering his dome up to thick braided strands that ran down the back of his neck. The braids were decorated with small beads of glass and stone, and when he turned his head to look at all of us, they clacked together in a very pleasing way.
Otto put his bowl down. The pair were locked in a silent staring contest, neither about to break.
“You’re here,” the man said, almost accusatorily. His voice was gentler than Otto’s. Not soft by any means, but less coarse. Pebbles in a coffee grinder rather than Otto’s boulders in a blender. With his lean body and softer voice, I’d have to guess the Risi was only in his early twenties.
Otto leaned back and crossed his arms. “I am.”
I put my half-full bowl aside, ready for whatever came of this.
Renzik pointed to my food with his spoon and asked, “You done?” I nodded consent, keeping my eyes on the newcomer. Renzik pulled the bowl into devouring range and dug in, uncaring of the situation unfolding at the table.
The Risi tensed his jaw, then lifted his chin as he
said, “We thought you were dead.”
Otto stiffened. “Sorry to disappoint.”
The Risi stood abruptly, and Otto followed in an instant. I was up a beat later, hands poised for Inferno Blast. The noise of the tavern died down and gazes affixed to us. My fingers trembled at the idea of fighting right here in plain sight. We were about to wreck our chances at getting in with the rebels, or getting into the Grand Archive for that matter.
The Risi grinned, throwing his arms around Otto’s back. “It’s good to see you, brother!”
“And you.” Otto gave him a hardy pat, then pulled out of the embrace. They returned to their seats.
“This is your brother?” I asked Otto, pointing at the newcomer.
“No,” Otto said flatly and lowered my hand, then whispered, “It’s rude to point.”
The room returned to its normal clamor, and my cheeks flushed red with frustration. I sat back down with a flop, the unnecessary adrenaline sending jitters through my limbs.
“He’s been with the, eh...” Otto stumbled over the words at a sharp glare from the Risi. “He’s been my friend for many years. We spent a long time cooped up together, so he may as well be my brother.”
The Risi chuckled. “There’s no resemblance. I’m much prettier than you.”
I leaned in to the newcomer, my anger manifesting in a snotty tone and my rising brow. “Who are you, then?”
“Oh.” The Risi’s eyes shot wide open in surprise. “I apologize, my name is Tabor.” He bowed his head, placing one hand over his heart as he did.
“This is Abby,” Otto said as he gestured to me, “and Renzik.”
Tabor’s eyes lingered on our Dokkalfar companion. “You’re a slave?”
“Was,” Renzik said with a grin as he pushed back his second bowl and patted his full belly.