Week One Day One

by Char Cam

  "Possibly, possibly," Elsbeth said. "She certainly didn’t kick you this time.”

  “Her eyes barely twitched," added Bliztarf. He and Alvaro had joined them shortly after dusk.

  “Playing hard to get do you think?” Alvaro chipped in.

  "I think she’s trying a new strategy," Sonetshea postured. "Tomorrow should be...enlightening."

  Elsbeth giggled.

  Cron Gorwith looked helplessly at the leftover food spanning the side table. He’d just been given the whole of it to take home. From all he’d learned from his Da, Royals didn’t behave the way these folk did. And whoever heard of giving out Rares as if the receiver of such wouldn’t abuse its use? He wouldn’t, of course. But really! It was unprecedented. Yes, yes, they were gamers, which meant they were peculiar in many ways already, but generally players didn’t go on spending sprees using other people!

  "You really should take it, you know," Sonetshea said softly.

  "She'll be terribly hurt if you don’t," Elsbeth added. "And we really don’t have a place to keep it from spoiling.”

  "You don’t want to hurt her, do you?" Cryson growled.

  "Of course not," Cron agreed hastily. "I was just wondering how I’m to carry it all," he prevaricated quickly. “I walked here.”

  "Oh that’s easy," Elsbeth said breezily. "We’re now the proud owners of a great load of mobiles. We’ll stuff it all in one of those and you drive it home."

  "I’ll bring it back immediately," he assured them.

  "Why?" Sonetshea asked quizzically.

  "You’ll just have a great blimey walk back in the dark and turn around and have to walk back in the morning," Cryson pointed out. "Best to keep one for the duration."

  "Hmmmmm. Perhaps two or three. They have connectors, right? So you can make a tram? Your crew will be ordering or checking various suppliers and connections about the city. Makes sense to have several vehicles," Sonetshea said logically. "You’re just starting up here as you pointed out. I don’t imagine you have a fleet of vehicles yet."

  “Not worth arguing about. She is the Kada,” Alvaro reminded them all.

  Bliztarf snorted. “Gocha there, Gnome.”

  "Well, let’s help you load up the mobile then," Elspeth said typically jumping to her feet. "Void where normal stomachs are," she snorted a laugh. "Thas a good un. My mom, er, the woman I grew up with," she amended hastily, "claimed she could never make anything decent ‘cause I ate the ingredients before she could. Always said I had a black hole for my stomach."

  Cron watched the young woman pick up a finger stick of breaded cheese to nibble on and shook his head, amused.

  "Elsbeth. Honeylamb. Dearest child of my heart. You still do," Sonetshea said sweetly.

  Elsbeth realized what she was doing and giggled. "Buuuusteeeed."

  "You should probably keep a plate of those handy. For emergencies," Cron dared tease.

  "Good thinking." Elsbeth filled half a plate of finger foods. "This caterer is really good," she commented. "The food from that one was like, bleh," she pointed to the food on the far end. "I don’t even know if you should bother with it Master Gorwith. But I’m sure some teen might gobble it down," she chuckled.

  "Apparently we all agree on that. We barely ate any of it," Sonetshea grimaced. “Maybe your wife could spice it up…or something.”

  Cron goggled. That food was from the most famous caterer known in the city!

  "The food from that bunch isn’t bad," Elsbeth continued her critique, "but this really is the best. I vote we make this one our official caterer."

  "Seconded," Sonetshea smirked.

  "Done," added Cryson.

  But that food was from a small eatery where the Chef was self-educated! Still, Cron thought, the food was very tasty. Perhaps there was something to these peoples’ unorthodox methodology. Cron scratched his chin. They didn’t know society had already determined the best caterer or, for that matter, the best engineers, for the job. They went by their own criteria. For instance, Healer Liolith and her selecting of him as Chief Engineer.

  He’d come to the palace when he’d heard it had been bought, with barely a hope he might have a chance at the job, prepared to beg, if truth be known. He’d watched the bigger companies set up their tables with all their fancy equipment and their grand plans splayed out and had almost walked away. But he was stubborn, was Cron. His whole family said it, so there must be some truth in it. He’d stayed because of it. He’d watched Healer Liolith go from table to table and politely agree that they each had very nice ideas. That’s when he knew he might as well pull out his 'Dreamer Plans'. The plans that were his fantasy of what he’d really like to build some day. When Healer Liolith saw them, her eyes had lit up, but she’d kept him waiting, that one. Looked at all the rest before coming back to him. Distracted them with food while she discretely dragged him behind her like a whirlpool sucking in its prize. He knew he was going to be dismissed.

  Then she dragged him to the other two women and made it sound like he was being picky about the job. His heart nearly stopped at that. He’d played along, but he never did quite get his feet steady. He rubbed his forehead. 'Sucker' indeed.

  The food was packed and loaded amidst much cajolery. Cron was on his way before much time had passed.

  He knew his family would be anxious since he was gone so far into the evening, but that awareness was driven home as he saw the strained face of his mate, and his various uncles’ grim countenances. He decided instantly to make a few ‘suckers’ of his own.

  “Well? How’d it go?” Starkus, his youngest uncle demanded. Of the five, he was the one with the most humor in his personality. If a prank went off anywhere, it was a surety Starkus had been behind it. Laugh lines were prominent on the map of his face.

  “Ya didn’t get the job, didja? That’s why yer late. Went an’ had a few pints. Ashamed to come home.” Uncle Varney. The pessimist. Nothing ever cheered him, even if something went right. He always found a downside. A scowl was permanently etched into his cheeks.

  “Knew we should’ve sent Varney. Instead we let the ‘kid’ have a go.” Tharnus was third born. He was the anxious sort. Forever having alternate plans that should have been done when the first went wrong. An actually useful knack, when it came to the business, not so much when it came to family. Worry rode him now like the light of day would never come.

  “Just shut up and let him talk. Maybe we can subcontract some of the work.” Thomly was the oldest. Well, he was the oldest since Cron’s own sire disappeared. Thomly was the eye of a whirl storm. Chaos could swirl around him and he could sit in its middle and think his way out of it. His face wore wisdom like an ancient proverb.

  “Suuure. Those rich companies don’t have enough people under ‘em. They’ll be glad to hire us.” Uncle Puvner. Dour, perhaps, but a good man to have at your back. He always had a sound word of advice and a bit of wisdom to see one through a crisis. Except he never used that attitude with himself. His face was creased lightly with strain.

  “QUIET!” Pela Gorwith barked. Cron knew she knew him well, and she could see something was up with him. Ah, his beloved wife. His stalwart defender and companion. She had an infectious and ready smile. It lightened the load in all their trials. An optimism that let him dream outlandish dreams while she kept him on track with reality. She was his backbone when he felt weak. He hoped he was the same for her. He knew what gave him away to her. There was too little tension in him. He was the same when he was secreting a holiday surprise.

  The Aunties quietly filed in, staying in the background like quiet sentinels. Pela would be their speaker since it was her man that was job leader for this project.

  “It’s true all the big engineers were there. I almost walked away,” Cron admitted dejectedly. “I looked at all those grand plans of theirs and knew we couldn’t compete with them.” Uncle Varney grunted. “So when it came to my turn to show what we could do, I threw our plans away.”

  “Noooooo,” wailed Stark
us. “Mite, what were you thinking?!”

  “He weren’t at all, that’s what!” Varney declared.

  “Crazy mad, you are,” Tharnus said, disgusted.

  “Mad stinger,” Puvner said grimly, referring to a wild bird that, when drunk on fermented fruit, attacked anything moving; including its own kind.

  Thomly scrutinized him. “Let’s have it,” he demanded. “You’re holding something back. Not nearly as kowtowed as ye should be.”

  A slow smile warmed Pela’s face. “You got the job. You and your Dreamer Plans got the job.” Her eyes glowed with happy satisfaction.

  Cron was happy to confirm. Pela had always encouraged his mad plans. Now that encouragement would pay up. Greatly. “I got the job,” he grinned unrepentantly.

  “Well why didncha just say so?” Demanded Varney grumpily.

  “Enough!” Thomly cut in quietly. As the oldest uncle, he was head of the family. “What’s our budget?” he asked business minded.

  “Well, as to that, we have a bit of a problem,” Cron admitted wryly, rubbing behind his ear.

  “Went skimpy on the money, did they?” Varney said wisely. “Rich folk are never in touch with the real cost of things. We’ll have to work around that.”

  “Well, no. That’s not the problem.”

  “I’ll tickle torture you to get outta ya the whole of it,” Starkus threatened. “Quit stallin’.”

  Slowly Cron reached into his jacket and pulled out the great pack of colored cards. Thomly picked them up with a grunt. “What are they synced to get,” he said spreading them out to get a count.

  Cron pulled out his Rare and quietly set in on the table. Quiet descended with a heavy thud. Pela reached for the card, a finger hovering over its shiny surface.

  “If only we could use it for food,” she said wistfully.

  “Well as for that,” Cron motioned to a few of the older mites who had snuck into hearing. “Go out to the mobiles, you lot, and bring back what ye find.”

  “Mobiles? As in more than one?”

  Cron stayed silent.

  The rug shredders thundered out of the door and soon squeals of excitement rattled the delicate bones in the adults ears.

  “Ma! Ma!” some called excitedly. They strung in bringing the plates of food, setting them about on counters and other surfaces.

  “This food is from Starnaks!” Pela gasped.

  “It’s a bit bland, if truth be told,” Cron said mildly. “Mayhap you can make it a might more tasty.”

  Thomly grunted. “It’s bland because the Ol’ Grand Duke of Crichok has a buggy stomach and they cater his buffets. They don’t think to spice it for the rest of the clientele.”

  “Well I’m sure we can do something to flavor it,” Pela said in wonder as the children brought in more food. “But not all this is from Starnak.”

  “Charity, Cron?” Auntie Velva sneered. The other Auntie’s sought to quiet her, thinking of hungry mouths within the family. “We don’t accept charity.”

  “It weren’t charity. It was a kindness. On our part. Healer Liolith ordered from three caterers because she didn’t know what everyone liked. Then afterward, there was no place to store leftovers ‘cause the palace is a wreck and they were excited enough they wanted to stay in their new home despite that. And it is a home for them. They aren’t your typical Royals. Healer Liolith asked if I would kindly take the food as she didn’t want it wasted. She was sure I might have some teens in the family with, and I quote, ‘Voids where normal people had stomachs.’ She wasn’t wrong, was she Auntie?” Her own twin boys were always looking for seconds. “And as was pointed out to me by a Deathgiver, I wouldn’t be wantin’ to hurt Healer Liolith’s feelings by refusing to take it, now would I?” Cron waived his hand at the bounty. “Eat it or don’t, Auntie. I wasn’t about to gainsay a Deathgiver.”

  “No,” Auntie Velva said softly. “I daresay that wouldn’t be a good idea. I’ll see what spices we have an try to take the bland away.”

  “Thank you, Velva,” Pela said. Several Auntie’s began setting up an assembly line and leading the children through.

  “What’s our work schedule like. How long do we have to get the job done?” Thomas asked bringing them back to business.

  “Well as to that, it was never mentioned.”

  “You didn’t ask?”

  “There were circumstances,” Cron shifted uncomfortably.

  “What. Circumstances. I’m warning you,” Starkus groused. “Quit teasing us with dribbles. Report!”

  “The givin’ of my instructions got interrupted by a marriage proposal, all right?!” Cron squirmed as the Auntie’s stopped and stared. “Darndest thing I ever seen. Darn Deathgiver was serious. You could see it. He meant the proposal. Healer Liolith got--”

  “Liolith the Terrible?” Puvner screeched.

  “The same,” Cron verified. “I was finally getting a work schedule set up when he did it again. His intended just ignored him and left to get ready for sleep. He did it in front of all the world too, and the others just watched and smiled like this was normal. And then they discussed it. I’m telling you, they’s all unnatural.”

  “Cron, surely that’s a bit harsh,” Pela reasoned.

  “You think so? Wait ‘till you hear what little instruction I did get. For our hours, we can start as early as we’d like, but we’d better be cleaned up and done for the day by five. Apparently our children need parents. And play time.” One of the Aunties choked. “Then they decided I should take a mobile home, and not return it, but to keep using it while on the job.”

  “But they’s three carts, Uncle Cron,” a little one said earnestly.

  “That’s right, Kelkie. There are three. Someone else might need to run errands, they said. Hunter Elsbeth gave me all those cards and told me flat out not to send people asking her what needs done cause she has no idea and neither do the rest. ‘We’ll pick colors,’ she tells me.” By now even the children were silently gaping at him. “But wait, that’s not the sinker that pulled the boat under. Healer Sonetshea gave me that Rare, but she didn’t stop there. No. Not that woman.” He reached into his jacket and drew out the plastic wraps with the other Rares. He tossed them on the table where all ten slid apart to shine in all their glory. “Said to give ‘em out as I see fit. Who in Grace’s Light do I give ‘em to?”

  Two of the Aunties fainted.

  "Easy there. Nice an slow. Your body’s been frozen. Do you know what year Milly killja?"

  "Two hundred three? No, four I think," the woman said in a rusty voice. That was normal for the kind of freeze she’d been kept in.

  The enforcer grunted. "Well, that’s not so bad then. Only been dead a couple of years."

  "Please, could you tell me if there was a little boy? He’d be about five. Grey eyes, dark hair. He’s called Timmy, or Timothy."

  "Nope. No children, just adults. Hmmmmm. You wouldn’t be talking about Milly’s son would you? Got himself adopted by some Healers and a Deathgiver from what I understand."

  "He wasn’t Milly’s son! These Healers, where can I find them."

  "Well that’s something for you to worry ‘bout tomorrow. Until the Healers clear ya, you have to stay in recovery. They’ll need to make sure everything’s working properly after that freezin’ your body was kept in."

  "Can I at least use a crystal?"

  "That you can do. Though if your callin’ family, let the Healer’s assistants meet with them in person first to cushion the shock of you bein’ alive and all."

  "Quite unnecessary, I assure you."

  "All right, I’ll have someone send one right over. Stay and rest. Be right back."

  When the orderly returned minutes later, the woman was gone. He shrugged philosophically. "Been a lot of that goin’ on recently. This is Enforcer Stark," he called loudly. "We’ve got another runner."

  Healer Denjel growled as she came into the cubicle. "Since that ones taken off, maybe you could do a better job of keeping this one lying dow
n!" she demanded heatedly. Another frozen body was being wheeled past. This one a gnome.

  "Yes Healer. I’ll do my best." Stark wouldn’t count on it working though.

  ELEVEN

  The Dunlo’s retired, taking Timothy with them. Something about sleeping with puppies. Alvaro scratched his head. Now was a good time he guessed. “Guys? I need your help,” he began.

  “Anything you need, Alvaro. Shoot.” Sonetshea settled back into the chair she had been about to rise from.

  “Yeah. Something’s been bothering you since you got here,” Cryson commented.

  “Well, I think this is a side quest, but I need to get in to see the Imperator. We went to Kilantrovar today and we rescued a guy from a torture chamber—“

  “Commonly known as the local prison,” stuck in Bliztarf.

  “—and he was in bad shape.” Alvaro squeezed his eyes shut.

  “As bad as I’ve ever seen it in a land far far away,” Bliztarf grimaced.

  Everyone knew that was code for the ‘outside’ world. However, no one commented. The remembered horror of what they’d seen was clearly still with the men.

  “The healers…the healers can’t do anything. They said an appeal to the Imperator could get him a new body.”

  Liaylaha gasped.

  “Is it, did they tell me true?” Alvaro asked painfully.

  “They did. But getting in to see him…,” Liaylaha shrugged. “He’s just so rarely available. His schedule is never announced in advance, he only stays a short while, and there are crowds of people wanting his attention. Plus you need a special invitation. It’s not impossible,” she assured Alvaro at his crestfallen look. “Just…difficult.”

  “How does he get the invitation?” asked Sonetshea.

  “I’m supposed to meet this person tonight. They might be able to get me in.”

  “You may not need them,” Liaylaha smiled warmly. “Do you know any heads of state around here? They can issue invitations. It’s just a matter of finding where he’ll be after that.”

  Alvaro’s brow furrowed. Liolith seemed to be hinting—Alvaro kicked himself. “Yeah, I know a head of state. Know one pretty good as a matter of fact. Now how do we find out where he’ll be?”