Chapter Thirty: I Dream of Beanie
Their trip back up the hill and North along the country lane seemed to take them right back to the old farmhouse, even though Pliesson said that he would wager that no map had ever connected those two places. Zuglah had seen just such a map, in the hands of an Orc Wizard.
They declined to visit the farmer again, electing instead to call for Krane right out in the lane. Zuglah was not sure exactly what Chayah did with the Onyx ring she wore on her pinky finger, but the change of location did not hamper her Older brother in the slightest. He was able to open a portal directly to them in moments. He stepped through and let the opening close behind him.
They really only needed to come back, but Zuglah had expected no less. Krane would want to see exactly what he was bringing home, especially with his brothers around. As soon as he spotted Chayah, he marched right over and began fussing. He was not happy with the blood, and he was practically speechless when he found the slashes and stab holes in the back of her doublet. Neither Zuglah nor Chayah had realized that there were quite so many. That fact also did not escape Krane’s notice.
He cleaned her up in a matter of seconds with the Mend spell. Not only did it repair her soft down overcoat, but it also cleaned the blood from it. And from her matted hair, even though Madame Jentraugh had insisted she have a bath. When he was finished, he gave Zuglah a look of anger that surprised him. “I thought that I could count on you, Zuglah Glun. I see now that I was a fool. You are simply a child running amok, with no idea what you are doing. You are lucky that you didn’t get your entire party wiped out, and disappear without a trace.”
He marched back to the road, opened a portal, and stood there waiting, arms crossed. He would not speak to any of them further, not even his sister. Zuglah went and stood in front of the fancy, gold Elf.
“You’re right, Krane. I’m sorry. I wasn’t prepared for a battle of that size, and I got overwhelmed. I don’t really know what I’m doing.” He didn’t wait for a response, but walked through the portal. Without looking, he could tell that Denton followed him right away, then Warwick and Pliesson. Chayah and Krane did not come through immediately, and Zuglah could see them talking on the other side of the portal. The sounds did not carry, even though they were very close. It was strange indeed.
Judging by her body language, Chayah was giving her brother a piece of her mind, only it was falling on deaf ears. He answered her coldly, still stiff-backed and angry. They continued like that, back and forth, for a few minutes.
As they watched and waited, Denton said, “Don’t take it to heart, Zuglah. Gamstone told me once that the best Enchanters can design Instances that scale, depending on how many people are inside, and what level they are. Those Orcs were dead solid. And that Lich. Are you kidding? We’ll be seeing her again.”
Pliesson also wanted to reassure him. “Zuglah, I was standing shoulder to shoulder with her, and even I didn’t see what happened. You got there unbelievably fast.”
“That’s the truth.” Warwick sounded impressed. “Cleric spells have the fastest cast times of any class, but somehow you were faster. I should have had my eye on her, but I was too busy trying to show off, because of all the Undead. This was on me, Zuglah.”
“It’s not on any of you. The next person who tells me that they will protect me is going to need the protection. From a lightning bolt.” Chayah was walking out of the portal. She strode by them, marching out of the inn’s yard and heading straight for the Glout. Zuglah chose to follow Krane instead, who was storming off in the other direction. Denton and Warwick followed him, then after a moment so did Pliesson. Zuglah stopped when he saw that. “Pliesson, would you please go with her? You should all go. I’ll meet you in the Dining Hall, and we can look at the box.”
Warwick perked up at that, and he cajoled the others to hurry up as he trotted ahead. Zuglah forgot about them and went to find Krane. When he found him, the golden-haired Elf was in a darkened corner, drinking alone. He must have only just arrived, yet the pitcher in front of him was half empty. Zuglah took a battered copper chalice from a nearby table and emptied it onto the sawdust piled up in drifts around the table and chair legs, then joined him. He helped himself to Krane’s wine.
The Elf himself had calmed down a great deal. He didn’t say a word as Zuglah pulled up a chair and started drinking his wine. He held out his own glass for Zuglah to fill, and they drank. After a minute, he asked, “Do you know how old Chayah is?”
“Oh no. You’re going to tell me she’s a thousand years old, aren’t you?” He needed a stiffer drink.
“She’s nineteen, Zuglah. This is her first time learning any of this. And she is the first child born to the King in almost nine hundred years. The entire family dotes on her.”
“They coddle her and she hates it. It’s literally the first thing she ever told me.”
Krane laughed. “My father. He thinks that just because he owns half of Pree that he owns the people too. Do you know how many of my brothers know your name, since our dinner with His Majesty?” Zuglah shook his head. “All of them. He made sure of that. There are now at least two more taverns that I know of that are full to bursting with my siblings. Be especially wary of my sister Fenne. Her little cabal is ruthless, and she could rob a nest of ferrets. I’m almost positive that I saw her henchman Quaa yesterday. Being with Chayah won’t protect you from that Lick if Fenne decides that the King doesn’t like you any more.”
That surprised him. “There are Dragonkin on Malgros? What for?”
Krane shook his head. “Some. Not many. But this Lick is a half breed. Quaa is half Human, which makes him crazy.”
“Human?” Zuglah asked. “So he’s not even related? Why would a half dragon worship your father, even if he is crazy?”
“King Dewey is his grandfather. They call themselves The Scions. But those thugs don’t really worship the King. They love Fenne with all their heart, and they are incredibly loyal. Fanatical would not be an exaggeration.”
Zuglah nodded slowly. “Thank you for the warning, if that’s what it was. I know that I’m not your favorite person right now, but I still have to ask you for a favor. I need a port.”
Krane’s expression soured. “More of this quest of yours? Are you sneaking off without your party now? That’s a great way to get yourself killed, permanently. They usually get harder as they go along, not easier.”
“I wouldn’t do that.” He placed a small, square vial onto the table. The label said Leap! in Caldwell’s beautifully penned letters. Zuglah could not write nearly so small. “I gave away all of my Jump potion, and I’ve got a thing in a couple of days. I need some ingredients, that’s all.”
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Krane picked up the Leap and looked at it. “The school dungeon that everyone’s talking about? Is that you as well?” He shook his head, as though in admiration or chagrin. Zuglah could not be sure which. “Very well. But buying ports is meant to be expensive. I’d like a vial of this.”
Zuglah stood. “You can have that one. Just make sure to use the drop squeezer. It’s powerful stuff. I will be back in a couple of hours. Your sister is waiting.” He rushed out of the tavern, ignoring the stares and the clucking as he passed. Even the bottom floor now was nothing but Elves. It was a bit chilling.
It took him no time at all to get to the dining hall. Morning classes were still in progress, so there were fewer than a dozen people eating. Zuglah waved to his friends as he quickly walked towards the kitchens. He fixed himself a heaping plate, and went over to meet them.
As he sat down, Zuglah removed his potion sling and tossed it towards the Cleric. Warwick, grinning, immediately opened the bag and fished out the black jelly-like circle. He held it delicately in two fingers of each hand and unrolled it. At arm’s length, he held the Portable Hole out towards Chayah, who reached inside with one hand and pulled out the large, iron bound box. As soon as it emerged, it fell onto the table in front of her with a loud thud.
The wood was dark red and highly polished. The corners were covered in the same flat, black iron as the three bands that wrapped around the box. Aside from the blood-red runes embossed in them, the iron bands were seamless, with no apparent way to open the box. Chayah cast Knock, but there was no visible effect.
Zuglah borrowed a nearby lantern and used it to examine the runes closely, because they were difficult to make out even in the generous daylight that flooded the cafeteria windows. The rune on one of the iron bands looked very familiar to him.
He stuck his head and arms into his Bag of Holding, turning up the wick on the lantern and hoisting it up high. He spotted a few items, but seeing as how it was all together, he simply slipped the Bag’s opening down over the entire wooden armor stand and brought forth the whole display. When he had sent the loot to the Adventurer’s Guild via the Portable Hole, he had assumed that they would sell it, or otherwise convert it to gold for him. Instead, they had erected this display, with one gauntleted hand holding Storm Sister and the other, Redda Mo.
Aside from his runestick, he had added other things to the display as he went along. Some of those items were overdue for dispersal. The dining hall had begun filling up for lunch, and some of the cooks had brought him a bunch of food left over from breakfast. They hated seeing food go to waste, and with Zuglah around it was never a problem. People, curious about the big black suit of plate mail and the intriguing box, grazed buffet-style on various dishes while they watched them divide their loot. Redda Mo presided over the whole thing.
As Zuglah lifted down the helmet, he saw that the delicate gold paint that he remembered was traced in the same pattern as the Stanish Sigil had been. The same symbol that now adorned the Gronnibox. He placed the helmet on top of the box, and lifted down the chain coif.
“And the winner,” Redda said loudly. “Of the farthest flung by fireball award goes to…” Zuglah laughed. He had been torn between giving it to Denton or Warwick, but when he thought about it like that, it was an easy choice. He stepped over to the Cleric. “Soaring Warwick! Congratulations!” Everyone cheered as though he’d actually won a prize.
“Next up,” Redda Mo said grandly, “Sword of Warning. Which sounds absolutely terrible. Hopefully, it’ll warn you that swords are stupid. I mean, what are the odds that some crazed Lich is going to float up behind you and throw a fireball at the back of your head? That almost never happens. Just toss that crap away, Zuggie.” The crowd clapped, and cajoled, and some catcalled. Warwick told the story of the Lich sneaking up on them, exaggerating shamelessly for effect. By the time he was done, Zuglah had no choice but to buckle the sword around his waist.
“I’m so disappointed in you.” Redda Mo said in disgust. “You look ridiculous.”
Zuglah took down the item that he had been thinking about when he decided to start distributing loot. It was a delicate silver necklace with no charm or pendant. Identify told him that it would repel the Undead.
“Antonia’s Aumna. The Skeletons have voted that this prize goes to Chayah Runsfaster. It was unanimous.” Although his joke might not have gotten as big a laugh as one of Redda Mo’s quips, Zuglah saw Chayah laugh, so he was pleased. He tried to hand her the prize, but instead she elected to turn around and lift her hair. The noises that the crowd made as he clumsily fumbled the delicate chain around her neck made him red in the face, which only served to make them hoot and swoop even louder.
Chayah spun back around on her toes, beaming. “How do I look?”
“Like a flower,” he replied before thinking. The crowd hooted some more, and Chayah turned a little pink in the face too. “Hey, do you want to come gleaning with me this afternoon? I need to make some more Jump.”
Pliesson made a delicate barking sound that sometimes Zuglah thought was a laugh, and sometimes was like clearing his throat. “Zuglah wants you to make Trelves with him. Are you familiar with the recipe?”
Chayah shook her head. Zuglah suspected that she was, as he had been, taken in by Pliesson’s calm demeanor and dry delivery. They disguised a wicked humor and a wit as quick as Redda Mo’s. “You take one Elf and one Troll, and you stitch them up in a trundling sack-”
“Pliesson!” Either Chayah’s hair had suddenly grown several shades lighter all of a sudden, or her face was as red as a sunset. The sudden laughter around them made Zuglah realize that the crowd had actually grown considerably. It was time to pack it up.
He very swiftly put the Gronnibox and the armor stand back into his Bag of Holding. He had asked Denton and Warwick if the fancy black armor held any interest for them, but they laughingly told him that a Shadow Knight’s plate mail wasn’t exactly the aesthetic that they were looking for. Zuglah spotted one of the members of Cave Drinks, a Human that was also in his dungeon crawling class. He slipped through the crowd until he caught up with him.
“Hey, uh- I’m sorry, I don’t know your name. I’m Zuglah.”
He was one of the older Humans in the class, and Zuglah hoped, one of the more mellow. “Jair Namboo. Of course I know who you are.”
Zuglah nodded. “I’ve been looking for Randall for a couple of days now. Are you two even on the same floor? I just realized that I have no idea how you guys sort yourselves out.”
The glance that Jair Namboo shot towards Zuglah’s friends could only be described as furtive. “He hasn’t been back since The Jounce took him. Right after your crawl.”
When Zuglah looked behind him, he couldn’t see who or what the greybeard had been looking at. Denton and Pliesson were stacking plates, and Warwick was already carrying a bunch towards the kitchen. Chayah was talking to Stuglas and her Elf friends. He turned back to the Wizard. “Who are the Jounce? What do you mean by ‘took him’ exactly? Was he arrested or something?”
Jair Namboo looked around the room as though he was afraid to be seen talking to Zuglah. “The Jounce are Pree’s government. I know that you’re from Preyd but on this side of the world people don’t disobey their rulers. There are simply too many factions all vying for a scrap of power to find yourself without kin. But I don’t think that’s the case.” The old man looked around again, clearly nervous. “I believe that he’s making Black Trance.” He pressed something small and hard into Zuglah’s hand, then pretended to shake it. After that, he left the cafeteria without eating.
Zuglah made his way back to his friends. They were finished with their packing and cleaning, and all watched him join them. He tried to keep his voice low, but was aware of how many people had lingered in the vicinity. “Okay, who the hell are the Jounce, and what is Black Trance?” He opened his hand and showed them the inky-black, tar medicine ball that Jair Namboo had given him. The ball had a white sheet of parchment folded around it, and when he showed them the inside, they could clearly read the letters. “That’s my name, in Elvish. Right?”
“Well how come our names aren’t on there? We were in Spellman’s Caverns too.” The Cleric sounded very disappointed.
Zuglah gave Warwick as earnest a look as he could. “Just tell me what the hell this is. I want to know why my name is on it.”
Warwick shrugged. “It would simply be easier to show you.” He took the tar ball off of Zuglah’s hand, pried the Troll’s mouth open, and stuffed it unceremoniously inside. “You got some big teeth, you know that?”
When he bit down, Zuglah was delighted to find a tiny frog in the middle.