A gruff voice is commenting, “Little shid said they were dying, figured just more drama. Though I guess none of it was drama before either, since all what went down. D’you see those scars inside the ears and under the eyelids? It’s unnatural, some unholy curse ‘aunts the little shid. Gorram punk reminds me of Jonesy when ‘e were—.”
The voice huffs, then steels itself to continue, “When ‘e were still around. Disrespectful cuss with no gorram clue ‘ow to take care of themselves or keep themselves alive. I’d throttle some sense into them if I thought it’d ‘elp. Can’t stand the sight of the little shid. I’m going back to the kitchen, take over the bar. Little shid’s friends are sure to drop by soon enough, and I’m not about to piss off the one that can ‘aul around a dragon’s ‘ead.”
I try to hold back my laughter, and my coughing. I’m sure that rumors spread after Teuila’s stunt in the tavern, that I’m the one that slew the dragon Kozzurth. Keeley here probably doesn’t believe the rumors. That’s fine. I don’t need her to respect me, or to care at all. I just need her to provide a safe roof for a night. Also, perhaps to untie me from my position bent backwards over a stool. I’m getting a headache with the blood rushing to my head. I’m fairly certain I’m in the doorway to the kitchen, but I can’t even open my eyes with how painful my headache is.
I wish I had already mastered the telekinesis spell, and set its enchantment upon my mind with the permanency ability. Oh well. One of the basic facets of the cleaning spell is mild acts of legerdemain. It’s basically what the cleaning aspect is, just making something small and pointless disappear. What could be a more iconic use of legerdemain than escaping simple bonds? It’s only a few S P, it shouldn’t be too hard on me since I already took a short nap just now.
I chuckle internally at considering blacking out from a concussion a short nap. Just another frequent occurrence for Reggie Shellcracker. Significant portions of my life were spent where that exact scenario was how it had to go down. The only rest I could get were moments when I’d blacked out from pain or oxygen deprivation or concussions. My mental avatar shakes its head and sighs at my memory of my lives thus far.
I don’t bother quickening the prestidigitative spell, so as to not waste S P. That does mean it takes me several minutes of sitting here while Marshal gazes between my slumped form, and the bar that he’s tending. I do hear Keeley stomping about the kitchen behind me, but hopefully I can simply slip away unnoticed. There we go, the bonds are undone. Oof, sitting up causes me to involuntarily groan in pain at the shift of blood pressure swimming about in my cranium. Hellspit and Fel fires. Of couse this draws Keeley’s attention, and Marshal’s as well.
I roll my eyes behind their closed lids, and begin to walk away, when the surprisingly agile duo surrounds me suddenly. Seriously you two? I know they don’t mean me any harm, but I barely restrain myself from fireballing the three of us to get them to leave me alone.
Marshal awes, “Shid braddah, you took a nasty fall and were twitching something awful. Had to use a trick that worked when cousin Kerry got the shakes. You need to slow down. Sit a bit, get some hot food in you.”
I drop my head towards my left hand and simply sigh as my hand supports my forehead and cheek. I don’t feel like correcting Marshal about my gender right now. Plus, braddah is like saying dude, it’s a colloquialism that’s almost an intensifier or noun or verb depending on context. It doesn’t necessarily have to be interpreted as calling the other person a male sibling, a brother.
Keeley cuffs the back of my head, rattling my senses with her massive mitt. She orders, “You paid for room and board, so take your board, sit, eat you liddle shid.”
It seems like Keeley doesn’t enunciate her tee consonants as clearly when she’s worked up. She appears to go back and forth between little and liddle depending on her ire. She hands me a delicious looking cornbread muffin topped with lamb and Aasimovian spiced baked beans that sets my mouth watering. We’ve been eating nuts and roots and the last of our digital fish for a while now. As much as I dislike the attention of Keeley and Marshal being on me, I do recall how her and her staff’s cooking are excellent.
I gratefully accept the food, apologizing, “Sorry for the hassle. I slipped on my own blood. My fault, not yours. I still bleed, a lot, all over. I’ll try to clean up after myself.”
Keeley snarls and stalks off back to the kitchen, while Marshal shakes his head incredulously at me. Since the bar is empty, he isn’t leaving my side, so I might as well enjoy the food and ask a question or two.
Curiosity gets the better of me as I ask something I’d wondered about before, “Pardon me if this is rude Marshal, you and Keeley share some slight similarities, but I don’t know if that’s regional or familial. Humans are, ah, it’s hard to know what I’m seeing sometimes. When two people have some sort of closeness, I interpret it as familial. Is she a sister, a cousin, your mother or, well. Is she your partner or spouse?”
Marshal laughs and slaps me on the shoulder as he responds, “Hahah, heavens no we’re not related. The way you say humans instead of people makes it sound like you view us from the outside, like you aint one yourself. Kay’s made me a proud and happy husband for nigh on two decades now. Most impressive woman in The Brook, at least in my eyes. Shid braddah, that’s hilarious. Be glad Kay was out of earshot just now. I’m not sure who’s hide she would tan or who she would chew out first, you or me.”
Marshal continues chortling while shaking his head as his hand rests on my left shoulder. I shrug, mildly embarrassed, but I figured it was something like that. Har and Sal back on Can’Z’aas were also two people that I thought looked like siblings, a little bit, but they were intimately close. They did share a magic specialization, but I guess that didn’t necessarily mean they were family. Actually, come to think of it, letting people think they were siblings, hiding any romance while in public was probably an alibi for their assassin-work. The assassins were almost definitely lovers, the way I’d seen them embrace. Less suspicion on a pair of people who claim to be brother and sister, or at least let other people think such.
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This makes me wonder just how many things in my life I’ve misinterpreted. The answer Reggie? A lot. The answer is a lot. Mat’s stutter, many, many, many issues with magic and powers and physics and reality. Quite likely many relationships. Hm? Yes Bud, I caught that too. Jonesy sounds like possibly a son or nephew or something. They either died, or went off adventuring. Either one leaves a sore spot for Keeley that raises her ire towards me. I can’t say I blame her. It’s not like I don’t have my own knee-jerk reactions to grief, or loss, or fear of either of the two.
Oh, Marshal said something that I should address, “Oh, Marshal, yeah. I’m not human. I’m Fae, like Tiktik, only different. I’m a Changeling. A dying one that can’t use my natural Changeling talent, sure, but still a Changeling nonetheless.”
Marshal’s face contorts as he looks me up and down, stating, “Heard it was magic that had you taller or shorter a couple of times around town. Thought Changelings were a myth, but the myth said it didn’t take magic to shift appearances, was just natural to them. Is that what you mean? Can’t use your natural talent? Little Clock gal is the first Fae I’ve personally met, so I didn’t--. Err, I guess other than you. Shid braddah, sorry. Really, really dying, and can’t use a gift you should have? That sounds rough buddy.”
I shrug halfheartedly as I nod to Marshal’s questions. He adds, “Kay got it into her head that you tell tall tales like our Jonesy did. Probably a bit unfair, since she knows some of what you said is true. I mean, sorry, maybe all of it is true, just Kay could be better because she has proof of some of it. She aint going to be kinder to you, not after Jonesy, but she’ll also make sure you stay good and taken care of if you follow the rules. I’m guessing you aint actually a kid, what with Fae weirdness and all.”
I chuckle and, not intending for Marshal to hear it, I state under my breath, “I’m actually only two months old. On this planet at least.”
Apparently Marshal did hear me though as his face contorts in shock and sadness. Hell. I don’t need his sadness or sympathy. I’ve probably got more living done across my several lifetimes than everyone in this tavern combined if you count thinkspace time. Hell, if you count extra timelines, then probably even more than the entire town.
Though I’m shaking my head incredulously at letting Marshal know, he still asks, “Months? Not decades or centuries? Months? Shid braddah you almost died for The Brook in June. Wait, two months, but that would be, you just got to The Brook, and immediately went off and faced a dragon for us. I can’t say any more than shid braddah. I have no words.”
I’m about to try to explain, or at least leave to find my way up to my room, when Marshal continues, “Some rumors here and there about you, you basically told Kay yourself that same thing, about only being alive a few days here, in our world, last you were here. I was there for something like that, one time. Our faith, our faith says it’s possible. Die, have our spirits rejoin our descendants some day in the future when the great work succeeds. Sounds like you’re proof of that, sort of. Only, only now I don’t know what to think, with all the ancestors disappearing.”
Ugh, I do not want to have to be the person to fill him in on this. I failed them. It was such an intrinsic, important part of the Aasimovian faith and culture. Marshal reverts topics however, “In that case, Reggie, yeah? What about your first go around, how long? You’re Fae, so must have been a long time, yeah?”
I grimace as I admit, “Physically only about two years or so the first time. I had the knowledge of an adult immediately, so it’s not like I was an infant plucked from my mortal coil.”
Marshal rests his palm against his brow and shakes his head. He tries to puzzle it out, “You’ve had a couple of years, and a couple of months, and that’s it? You’re about to go again? Is that regular with Changelings? Do you reincarnate often?”
I shake my head as I try to stifle a bitter laugh, “No, no it’s not normal, and we never reincarnate. My death wasn’t normal in the slightest. It doesn’t matter. There are evil forces bearing down on Aasimovia, and I need to rest up and prepare to face them. Harriet refuses to start evacuations immediately, no matter how dire my warnings are. I don’t know if I can save you all Marshal. I swear to everything I have left. I’ll try. I promise. I’ll do my best.”
I fight back tears as I avert my gaze while clenching my stinging eyes shut. I can’t keep failing the kind people of Rayileklia. I failed Selunie and everyone in Victo, I failed Dawn, I failed all the Aasimovians, hell, for all I know, due to time shenanigans, I might have failed Aces, or Jeegoobotstan. Or worse, I might have even been the person to raze the entire city-state kingdom of Jeegoobotstan. Marshal appears stricken. I hate to drop bombshells and leave, but I don’t have the heart to keep having this conversation. I’m slightly trapped however.
I could certainly force my way past. Sure, I’m nowhere near as strong as Teuila, but I’m still stronger than even buff, physically fit humans like Marshal and Keeley. I wouldn’t be doing standing dead lifts of thousands of pounds or anything, but, given a moment, I could physically throw either one of them dozens of feet, despite them each being in excess of two hundred pounds. They’re quite possibly a lot heavier than that, as they appear to be both big boned, and heavily muscled. My point is I don’t want to start a brawl, or injure anyone, or even risk either.
Marshal surprises me by picking me up, dusting me off, and stating, “Tell me what I can do. Let me make it easier on you, in whatever way I can.”
I want to cry from the kindness of the offer, but I don’t know that there’s anything he can do. I fight around a sob to speak, “Marshal, unless you can convince everyone in The Brook, hell, all of Aasimovia, to evacuate before the Imperial forces get here, I don’t know that there is anything you can do. My plan was to have Harriet send word to everyone to begin heading Northwest, on the bog side of the mountain range, and to wait there while we circled around to the far side of Jaggedfen Bog by way of The Gap to take out the hydra. I was going to recommend settling in the ruins of Jeegoobotstan, since it was destroyed.”
Marshal’s throat catches as the weight of my words hits him like a freight train. It wasn’t some fanciful tall tale, it was a concrete plan on what needs to happen to save their lives. He’s sent reeling, and leans against the corner of the bar for support. I also don’t know if he or anyone in The Brook knew that Jeegoobotstan had been destroyed sometime in the last decade or so, since the hydra had been keeping news from the western region from reaching for a very long time.
Marshal was ready to offer support, and still seems ready to do so, as he’s fighting his own reaction to steel himself resolutely. He’s got a lot to consider. They all do. Keeley has built a home, a business, a life here for them. It sounds like they lost a son here. Their son became an ancestor, what they call the reanimated bodies, no matter who they were in life. Now, now even that reminder of their son is gone, forever. I effed up so bad by not being powerful enough to stop the curse that had been placed upon Dawn’s soul.