Chapter 146

Thrush and Goblins and Beer and Cheese

The previous season’s chill lingered in the night. It was night after night slowly warming. The goblins hadn’t done much after eating, and most of them slept through that afternoon and through the night. There were only two goblins who stayed up, and they whispered beneath a telescope.

The summer bounced off the sea and hung in the air, thick like fog. My smoker’s smoke stack pumped clear blue smoke into the morning air. The wind dispersed it off to Gloom-glower’s fleet.

Dreambons smashed between my tongue and the roof of my mouth. Their flavors filled me and balanced my Composition from the 15% cheese it had yesterday grown to.

Stepping carefully over goblins, I entered my yurt. I opened the first drawer of my Merchant's chest: Drawer of Ambience. Wood hushed across wood as I slowly opened it. A ball of blue fur beside a ball of yellow fur slept soundly. Ella rolled in her sleep. I couldn’t then close the drawer over her, so I gently rolled her back like she was a wheel of yellow cheese that needed to be put on its side to store. The drawer at last closed.

I moved from the handle of the drawer to the harpoon handle of my smoker. My flesh sizzled as I gripped the metal and heaved the lid open. My snub nose twitched, almost like it was a separate thing and had just woken. The scent of hickory and pecan and salmon and sea brine filled my lungs. The claws of my toes clicked the deckhouse, my eyes throbbed in their sockets, and I purred. The 10 salmon were done smoking!

“What about now? Are they ready now?” said a goblin, peeking into the yurt.

“Yes.” I collected the salmon, swung them out, and slapped them down on the table which had been licked clean. I beckoned the goblin. “I have cheese and smoked fish today.”

The goblin held out both his hands, palms up.

“Yes, just like that,” I said. “Present me with something you’d like to trade.”

“Trade?”

“For hot, juicy, wood-smoked fish, and—”

“—Yeah?”

“Sharp, creamy, meaty cheese slathered on top, and—”

“—Yeah? Yeah?”

“A chilled…” I popped the cork from a bottle of beer.

“Oh!”

“...Premium goblin spit beer.”

“D-did you say, p-p-premium?”

“That’s right. The award-winning Slime-tooth’s Goblin Spuck ptooey clone brew.”

The goblin fished so deploy into his pockets that he knocked his own legs out from under himself. He thrashed on the deckhouse while he rummaged. Pearls clattered upon the deck and scattered away.

Some had not slipped through his fingers. “Take these!”

“Would you like a creamy cheese—”

“—Yeah, yeah! Creamy!”

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“A crumbly cheese—”

“—Oh, give me the crumbly cheese! All the crumbles!”

“Or a stink-smacking blue cheese?”

The goblins stuttered furiously until he snarled in what seemed as an attempt to bite his own tongue still. I piled blue cheese on top of smoked salmon onto a crinkle of Mehri Monger’s butcher paper. I handed him the bottle of beer as sparkling turmeric-yellow foam trickled from the neck.

“Ho! Oh! Whoa! Wow!” the goblin gasped like he was wading through icy water.

After he sprinted out of the yurt, it wasn’t long before the crew came looking for a meal. I employed a groggy Boggo to help me keep the goblins in line this time around. He climbed onto Stumble-not’s shoulder and barked at the goblins to form a line.

“See anything you like?” I asked the first goblin while I waved a hand over the spread between us.

“The creamy one! I need the creamy one! For this jellyfish I’ve been saving?”

“Here you are, Wax-nibbler.”

The next goblin offered a smooth shard of red sea glass.

“I’ll need an extra high-five from you if you want a full meal,” I said.

Goblin after goblin, I alternated which Merchant skills I used.

[Congratulations! You have reached Merchant Level 3001.]

[You are halfway to Diamond rank.]

My Inventory management skill was responsible for that. My inventory was so diverse, so heavy, my other skills trailed behind by at least 1000 levels.

“Who’s next?” I said. “Brown-nail?”

Brown-nail presented a single copper coin. I wanted to put him in a tough spot, so taht I could work on my Merchant’s Threat skill.

“That is too much, little Brown-nail. You need to negotiate a lower price with me…or else.”

“Please, Thrush Monster. I just want the-the-the…I want everything you have!”

I showed him my fangs. “If you don’t ask for a meal at half price, I’m going to have to think about eating you.”

“I don’t understand! Half a coin? I can’t halve a coin! Oh, Slime-tooth, greatest of the great goblin gods, what do I do?”

A sudden thud drew my attention. Boggo had dropped down from Stumble-not’s shoulder.

He waddled over to Brown-nail and nudged him. “Pst. How about you buy two meals with one coin? That way you get twice as much for half the price.”

Brown-nail counted all of his fingers. He went over some of them twice. Boggo offered some of his own fingers, and Brown-nail counted those too.

“I’ll buy two meals with one coin!” said Brown-nail.

My gaze meandered to a corner of the tarp ceiling. “Hmm, I must think on this.” I sighed. “As long as you ask for extra cheese.”

“With extra cheese, please?” squeaked Brown-nail.

Boggo nudged him harder and gave him a tough look and a nod.

“Give me extra cheese!” asserted Brown-nail.

With his traded meal, Brown-nail scurried off.

The next goblin in line approached and said, “Can I have two meals, too?”

“No.”

Later, under the setting sun, the goblins once again found themselves belly up on the floor. They were defeated, and smiles were stuck to their sleeping faces. There were many goblins, and they burped like frogs in a swamp.

Barnacle-eyes lay upon extra cushions this time. She rubbed her belly and hummed a tune. Her hum soon turned to words.

“I have never ever, not once-ever, never-in-an-ever, had such a good meal. Not even once!”

“It’s all thanks to Hawkin. He taught me how to smoke.”

“Yeah, he does stuff like that. He taught me how to make beer.”

“A friend of his made this one.”

“So they’re a friend of Hawkin’s, huh? Guess that explains why it’s so good.”

“Yes. The slime washes down the cheese just right.”

Barnacle-eyes gasped. “Thrush, you had so many cheeses.” She burped. “Ah, I can still smell them all. Can you? Can you smell them?”

“I can smell everything.”

She burped. “Oh, bet you can’t smell which one that was.”

“I can. But I’ve forgotten what most of the cheeses are called.”

“Does that matter? Cheese is cheese.”

“I’d like to keep track of them. I could use a Collector’s Journal.”

“Like Hawkin has for beer?”

“Yes, but for cheese.”

“How many cheeses are there?” she wondered with what sounded like awe.

“That’s a very good question, Barnacle-eyes. How many cheeses are there?”