另类小说人亚洲小说

Chapter 56

Chasing Your Tail

Madonna didn’t jerk on my tail until she had me over the deep part of the spring. One would think that standing nearly that deep herself would have doomed her, but with my lack of swimming expertise, and and inability to push off the bottom...

Let’s just say that only by being VERY flexible did I manage to turn the tables, and then only after I’d made some skeletal modifications.

Between sputters and gasps for air, she was laughing. “Again. Again. That was FUN.”

I rotated my left shoulder, the one I had sprained. “Perhaps next time.” I said, joining her in the shallows.

.....

“By which you mean NEVER.” She splashed water at me.

“If I had meant never, then that is what I would have had to say.”

“Watching that was worth the price of admission.” Dimmihammas said.

“I notice that you did not pay that price.” I said.

Madonna reclined, her arms over the stone edge of the spring pool. “If that is a concern, husband, you could always increase my allowance.”

“Not until my own allowance increases, and that will happen only as we gain more profits ourselves. How go our mercantile adventures?”

“Gamilla curses the ineptitude and greed of many sea captains.” Dimmihammas reported.

“Er, thank you, Dimmihammas. Wife, how go everyone’s lessons?”

“Lessons? Dear, we’ve been preparing for a wake before the mortals went home.”

“Wait, I go missing for a single week, and suddenly everything falls apart?”

“Without you, our loan requires collateral.”

I scoffed. “Since when?”

“Since some idiot of a Truthspeaker was overheard in public, bragging about having a divisor of over twenty.”

“When?”

“Among my many blessings, a photographic memory is not. I only know that your status as a hero is already making its way around the islands. And, husband, there is quite a bit of a stir around your true purpose here.”

“Why? Even a season ago, nobody cared.”

“Mhuh. And how many OTHER heroes are there in the islands? There are rumors about the rest of us, as well. Tales almost as tall as Gamilla herself.”

“Kismet’s doing?”

“No, for once, it seems to be the wagging tongues and hopeful brains of humans, without Mwarri assistance.”

“You should hear how Missus destroys entire boats with just a wave of her hand.” Dimmihammas said. “Sadly, I am little more than a clown among thieves in most of the stories.”

“Kismet?”

“Bard and tricksteress, maiden of illusory magic.”

“I can see that. The others?”

Gamilla Gorgon-daughter was an indestructible engine of war, whose spear every native feared to face. Narces was known as Swiftbow or sometimes as Deathbow the Swift, the flash-stepping incarnation of ranged death.

I sighed. “Small wonder the dragon wanted to recruit me, and to remind me of my mortality when I declined. Awaugh, I’m an idiot!”

“Too much enjoying the warm water to disagree with you.” She said. “Thinking you should have done this earlier?”

“No. No. I forgot to ask the dragon what his name was.”

She snorted, snickered, and broke into bawling laughter.

#

I don’t know where they found spiced meat paddies from the Khanate, nor how they had afforded them. They were terribly dessicated things, and I made soup from the water I soaked them in. The taste of the soup was promising.

In the end, I had to use eggs to hold the brittle remains together, and many of the peppers were lost. It was a middling sixteen nutrition, but the spices were milder than I expected, perhaps because the soup had diluted them.

For a mid-day snack, it seemed to satisfy everyone.

Kismet bounced on her bench. “Shopping, shopping, shopping!” she cried. “New clothes for everyone.”

“What? How are we affording that much?”

“Many of the crew,” Gamilla said, “departed for fear that they might be held accountable for even a fraction of your loan.”

Better and better, I sarcastically thought, but my Truthspeaker Oath locked the words up tightly, as well as any hope of saying ‘we don’t need new clothes’, or ‘we can’t afford that’.

It became a contest between Kismet and Madonna to find the most ostentatious, outrageous, and luxurious outfit for me. It had to be, for the vibrant colors they tried to put me in.

“Look, wouldn’t a black doublet and pants suffice?”

“What? Husband, we can’t put you in black. Red will hide the blood better.”

“And blue goes better with his scales. I’m so glad they’re back to green.”

I scratched the tip of my nose, only to have my hand slapped away by Kismet’s.

“Stop that. They’ll be ready to peel off soon enough.”

“I’m looking forward to it.” Madonna said, making a pulling motion accompanied by a ripping sound.

“Maybe you girls should compromise at purple?” Gamilla suggested. She was trying on a cape of that color, admiring herself in a silver mirror.

“Bleh!” Kismet said.

“My husband is a hero, not some... eggplant.”

“What about green?” Narces suggested, while trying on an olive hunting vest.

“No!” they both shouted at the same time.

“Maybe a blue shirt with red belt-sash over black pants?” I suggested.

“Ick.”

“No, stop trying stupid things.” Madonna said. She pointed at an orange tricorn hat, which Dimmihammas fetched for her. She set it upon my head, tsked in dis-satisfaction, and handed it back to him.

“Haha, snakeskin boots.” Kismet laughed, holding up a pair of adult boots.

“Hey, let me try those.” Narces said. But his feet were too large, and they remained in the shop when we left.

Madonna and Dimmihammas in scarlet, Kismet in pink with a white cloak, and Gamilla in purple and navy blue – they cut a memorable trio. Narces, for his part, looked like a ranger had just stepped free of a romance novel, and was out hunting his errant true love.

And I – looked respectable. I’d have loaned me money, enough to afford repairs and order goods from nearby ports.

“Stop slouching, husband. You almost look the part of a diplomat.”

#

I don’t remember how they roped me into cooking anything for dinner, but I got back into my linens and cooked vast pots of rice with saffron and garlic, a dozen and a half chickens, four rashers of bacon, and pan-heated vegetables. Even with the innkeep and her husband doing the bulk of the work (or at least that’s how I remember it), it was enough to wipe me out for the night.

Never do that on a single digit health bar; I vividly remember passing out, and waking to the pain of having stumbled against the oven.

Madonna had also purchased a new whip. “Either you can wield it, or if you’re just too tired, I can use it on you.” She offered.

Somehow, I had the energy to break it in with fifty lashes. None of them were strong, and the whip was still highly stiff afterward.

Madonna made lewd offers, and complained about my lack of age, but eventually settled for what seemed like an eternity of cuddling and stroking, quivering in pleasure whenever one of my hands crossed a streak of her new bruises.

Don’t be fooled; by the time I awoke, I knew those would be gone. I healed fast, but Madonna healed at a rate that bordered on the magical.

[Lucid Dreaming successful.]

No, no, no, NO!

Stupid spirits! I needed SLEEP. Not a night of dancing or chatting about the merits of sapphires over emeralds, or how Elves had once ruled the world, or any other stupid stuff.

Sleep.

But I found myself in Pongo’s grove, with both Pongo and a muscular, thewed blond man who had at least a head’s height on Gamilla. He was clothed in furs, over which he wore a vest of iron links that came down halfway to his knees. His blue eyes were clearly visible beneath a round-helm with one of those nasal bars, fashioned to look like the tip of the spear he carried.

“You,” he said, waving a thick finger at my nose, “accept quests. You will accept this one; you will travel to Lavin Buscalia and there avenge the **** of Igrun Sivert, and the murder of her brother and daughter. Also, you will free her from the duress of slavery.”

Pongo cleared his throat. “Rhishisikk, this is Vaine, son of Vidarr the Silent and Solveig Jotun. Vaine, this is Rhishisikk the Titanspawn.”

I was just TIRED. “Sounds like a lot of work. How many rapists? Are they related to say, the governor?”

“It is the governor, his two brothers, and his five erlshields. Champions, all, and worthy prey for you and your kindred.”

.....

I rubbed the bridge of my nose. “Vaine...”

“We accept!” said Kismet. “Women just ought not to be treated like that.”

What? Was I that tired, that I was imagining things?

She put her hands onto her hips, thrust out her jaw, and said, “What, you think you’re the only person who dreams? I’ll remind you, I hosted Nastyman for over twenty seasons.”

#