CHAPTER 133

Michael spun away from the strange otter and walked straight to the mostly intact central stairs.

“Why me?” Tom asked as he followed.

“Because,” Joline said from behind. “You have a unique way of viewing things and are not stupid enough to believe that you are automatically right. Plus, you called for parlay, so your inclusion is your own fault.”

“Pretty much what scary lady says.” Michael said with a laugh.

Joline glared at the healer in annoyance, and for an instant, some of the oppressive tension from the otter lessened. “This is so screwed,” she whispered, and the brief moment when their banter had let them forget the alien just outside their camp was forgotten. When he checked Joline, her face was tight with concern.

They were down in the courtyard with a solid wall between them and the otter.

“Should we discuss strategy before we?” Michael gestured with a sweep of their hand to show, walking around to face that deadly creature up close.

“No.”

“No,” Tom said at the same time as Joline.

“There is no point.” Joline clarified. “The otter can almost certainly hear us.”

“I can get Everlyn.”

Joline shook her head. “We could ward ourselves up with all privacy and stealth skills of the group and I would still bet that the alien will get through it. All we’ll do by trying is piss it off.”

“But generally?” Michael pressed.

“You do pleasantries and when it gets serious, I’ll obviously take point,” Joline stated. “And adjust my strategy based on what we learn.”

They threaded through the stonework. There was no longer an official entrance or exit that had been collapsed in the fighting. Instead, they clambered up a toppled section of wall that hadn’t been rebuilt yet.

When they got around to where the otter had landed its griffin, they discovered it had retreated most of the way back to his formidable companion. Both Michael and Joline came to an immediate stop. The new positioning would have put them in the beast’s shadow if they had been positioned on the west wall instead of south. It was terrifying, and it took all three of them a moment to realise that the otter had produced furniture to make itself-more comfortable. It was sitting relaxed in a wading pool made of a crystalline substance. The horror of the earlier battle and the shock of the otter landing, the scene, the juxtaposition was disconcerting. It was like the otter was a human relaxing on the beach without a care in the world. Absolutely and utterly confident in its own safety.

“He’s changed the location to one more advantageous to him.” Joline said with annoyance, apparently reading the scene completely differently to how Tom had. “I wonder if the smart play is to make him move?”

“I don’t think it was intended like that.” Tom said finally. “Maybe this is a game this species plays or possibly the person needs the water to be relaxed while negotiating. But to be honest I’ll feel more comfortable set up there than right under the wall where everyone is listening in to everything I’m saying.”

“What?” Michael asked, shaking his head. “Out there, we don’t have backup.”

“Backup is irrelevant.” Joline muttered. “We leave it as is. It would be petty to insist on a different negotiation spot.”

“Join me,” the otter called out before it flicked its tail into the water that sent a spray of mist flying almost five metres straight up with the wind taking the mist to coat the griffin. “There’s no point being uncomfortable while negotiating. Would you prefer a pool or cushions? I can’t offer anything more exotic through your physiology suggests cushions would be superior to something like a spike stone.” The otter’s whiskers twitched.

Michael cleared his throat awkwardly. “You’re right. Cushions are great.”

The otter waved its hands, and a dozen pillows fell down onto the carpet. Some of them were the size of a three seater couch, others smaller.

“Sit, relax.”

They hesitated.

The otter’s eyes narrowed. “You realise that your continual existence depends on keeping me happy.”

The words sent a shock through all of them. Of course, they knew based on the power disparity, but there was a big difference between accepting the fact and having something shove it down your throat.

Joline and Michael hurried forward, behaving like they were walking on eggshells.

Tom’s eyes narrowed. Having witnessed some of this creature’s thoughts he knew it was not the type to destroy a group of people without a pressing reason and even then it would only be as a matter of last resort or if they were completely unredeemable.

It was bluffing.

With a start he realised he had fallen behind so Tom hurried forward to take a seat with the other two. Hopefully, his hesitation would be interpreted as fear. There was no reason to reveal that he was onto the otter’s bluff especially if there was a chance to use it to his advantage later.

He chose a single seater couch sized pillow and having observed the others having no ill effects, plonked down onto it. The cushion distorted under him and was so soft that his bum almost sunk to the point it touched the ground. He shifted in position until the insides moved enough to provide a backrest. Under the fabric, it was sort of like a beanbag and was suspiciously comfortable. Tom’s analytical mind broke it down, with the ability to mould itself to pressure on it and the various sizes the collection of pillows would work for most body types and give them comfortable surroundings to lounge on.

Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on Royal Road.

The otter who had been watching them twitched and its hands were raised to its whiskers but it stopped itself from cleaning them, barely.

What was funny that time? Tom thought to himself. The cushions? Or had it noticed his hesitation when he had discovered that its threat was empty.

Tom watched it like a hawk. The vision he had meant that this alien was an opportunity. The fact he knew they were not at immediate risk of being butchered was important. All he had to do was to determine how to leverage that knowledge for him and the wider group.

“This site is protected under the flag of trade. May all insults be like water off my back, may all blood feuds be left behind us and may the winds of commerce wipe away past and future insults.”

“Agreed.” Michael said tightly. He looked pointedly at the cushions. “Are you a wandering trader?”

The otter’s forehead tightened. “No. I am a searcher for fortune. A wanderer. Trading is more for politeness than desire.”

Michael nodded at that. “You are very well provisioned.”

“Most wanderer’s are similarly set up. It is always nice to converse in comfort under the trade flag. No.”

The doctor took a deep breath. “My name is Michael. This is Joline and Tom.”

The otter regarded each of them in turn. “You can call me Mus.”

“It is a pleasure to meet you Mus.”

Mus rubbed its whiskers. That showed only mild amusement as opposed to so strong that you fall off a three metre tall monster type of hysteria. “If it was truly a pleasure, I dare say you wouldn’t be so tense.”

“You seem to know a lot about our situation. What can you share with us?” Michael asked, ignoring the otters’ friendly overture.

Tom knew Michael’s mindset. Till it was proved otherwise Mus was a snake waiting to strike.

Mus seemed not to care. Not for the first time, it was split between laughing and answering them. “Information usually comes at a price. Can you pay?”

Michael shrugged. “You tell us.”

The otter regarded them intently. It’s bum wiggled as it did so. “I won’t help a new competitor. I would prefer to destroy you than help you for free. I guess you can ask your questions, and once you’ve done so, I’ll provide a price.”

He knew the creature in front of him. While it was doling out threats, they were empty. His vision thankfully had taught him that. “Stop this silliness. You know we have no items or loot we can trade.”

“Not for anything important,” Mus interrupted with a wink. “But if your question pertains to the mundane, like the length of local seasons, you might afford that.”

“There is only one thing that you can want from us. Everything else is irrelevant.” Tom said definitely.

The otter’s forehead tightened once more. It was the opposite emotion to amused, annoyed, and it was not the first time Tom had caused that reaction. If he didn’t understand the mind behind the unreadable alien mannerisms and body, he would have been quivering on the ground in fear.

“Sorry,” Tom bowed his head. “I didn’t mean to say anything offensive.”

“You didn’t.” Mus said still regarding Tom intently. He wondered if the creature could see his oracle skill and put one and two together. He hoped it didn’t possess those abilities.

There was a long silence.

“Can you express what you want?” Tom asked finally though everyone here knew exactly why a native would be interested in newly arrived competitor race. Especially from an example like humans, which started with such low attributes.

The otter regarded each of them in turn. Though he spent an extra few seconds glaring at Tom once more. Tom was certainly starting to feel like he and Mus had got off on the wrong foot, flipper, paw, or whatever the right description was.

“I think you should be able to answer that yourself.” The otter said finally.

“A hint?” Michael asked.

The otter’s face went flat, the eyes narrowed. “No. I would get to know you before negotiations start in earnest. This is your first test.”

The three of them looked at each other. There had been several reasons to hide why they were a member of the competition. Enemies proactively eliminating them were one of them. The future power of competition races was a genuine threat to natives, and they had concluded that some races would choose the bloody path to help manage the risk. Yet that reason was the weaker of the two main ones they had identified by far. A native race gaining the advantages gifted to a competitor race was their primary fear.

“You want to enslave us.” Joline said finally.

Mus somehow managed to look offended even though when Tom reviewed the before and after images physically nothing had changed.

“Skill,” he could almost hear Everlyn whispering it, but she wasn’t here to confirm. Not that external validation was necessary he knew his thought was right. Some sort of skill that allowed emotions to be conveyed across species. It was why, Tom realised, that he had been able to attribute emotions to the actions the otter had taken. The Skill had been in play from the start otherwise there was no way he would have picked up on the link between whiskers and amusement so quickly. Though when it fell off the griffin, he might have recognised the similarities to hysterical laughter..

Apparently, the otter retreating to stillness and staring showed it was offended.

Mus continued to stare at Joline, condemning her for her comment on slavery. The longer the staring lasted the more the offense intensified. It grew, morphing, taking a life of its own and becoming more furious, more deadly and more directed.

Joline licked her lips. She appeared uncomfortable, touched her stomach, nausea clear on her face. The composure of running a bank on Earth was insufficient to help weather facing an alien that could crush you with a casual wave of its paw.

Her eyes dropped, sweat ran down her forehead, her breaths were shallow.

“You’re being rude.” Tom snapped at Mus.

The otter glanced at Tom in surprise.

Joline gasped, and she straightened from the slouched postures she had slipped into. “I didn’t mean to offend you.” Joline blubbered now that she was no longer transfixed by the stare of a superior predator.

“No need to apologise to him.” Tom told her quietly. “Fundamentally, you were correct.”

Mus blinked slowly at him, the body language showing grudging respect.

Tom wondered how open to abuse that Skill that the otter had was. Could it lie through its ability, or was it something that just made things transparent?

“If not slavery what else would you call what you are proposing?” Tom asked.

“A mutually beneficial arrangement.”

“How could you describe it…”

Mus’s hair along its back bristled.

Michael’s protestation died at the back of his throat. His face screwed up similar to Joline’s.

Otters were terrifying when they were displeased.

“Stop threatening them. It’s an unfair negotiation trick.”

Mus turned to him, and Tom was subject to the full horror of the beast’s displeasure. There was sufficient power in its smallest claw to blow Tom away. It could flay the skin off his bones by merely breathing on him, and it was angry at him because he had been rude.

“Stop your cheap tricks!” Tom snarled, using anger to overcome the suppression. “You’re better than that.”

Mus blinked at him. Slowly, the fur dropped. The pressure receded, but it was still there. The underlying anger remained that was not a negotiation tactic. Mus was genuinely offended at being called a slaver. “It’s not a trick, hu-mans. Be careful of your words. The flag of truce only goes so far.”