Chapter 45 - Go Fish
“This isn’t what it looks like,” Lipos grumbled, pounding back half a mug of friendship juice as we sat at the bar in the Fin-Fan Factory cafeteria. “I just wandered in accidentally.”
“Really?” I asked. “So, why do you have a book then?”
“I don’t—” my brother-in-thickness began, only to freeze as he saw that the evidence was in my hands, courtesy of a discreet rathole.
“It’s even a special edition, signed copy,” I observed, thumbing the pages. “To my biggest fan, Lipos.” I was guessing he meant that literally.
The siren just let out a frustrated rumble, his tusks vibrating and giving it a deeper bass quality – one that sung a melody of pure murder. I knew that look well – it was one I relished. The look of imminent defeat—
“If you tell anyone, I’ll crush you into a pulp,” the siren growled, glaring.
“Of course, not,” I replied – the very picture of trustworthy innocence. Although, for some reason, Lipos still looked skeptical. Probably the smile.
I just couldn’t help it. It felt so good to be right, you know? You’d think I’d get used to it, but nope – it always felt like the first time. Fresh. New. Exciting. Vindicating.
Lipos sighed, staring down into the depths of his mug, the two of us sitting at the bar in the now very empty cafeteria. “It’s just, well, it gets dull on the ship. Weeks, months, and sometimes whole cycles working the river. Lonely, empty nights with only your own thoughts and the occasional roar of the sea dragons. Those stories kept me sane. Gave me something to focus on, even if it was just for a while,” Lipos grumbled, his gaze distant.
I could certainly relate. Horus’ bedtime stories had been a favorite back in the lair. That’s why I had to publish his horny handbook – to give others that same joy; that same distraction from the miserable, terror-fueled nightmare that was, well… living.
The siren shook his head. “I just can’t believe there’s a fan group out here…”
I leaned forward, suddenly all ears. “Wait, so Horus is popular in other places?”
Lipos glanced at me in surprise. “Of course! His books are best sellers. I’d wager every vessel between here and Asphodel knows his name. Do you know how rare it is to find a book about something other than nimbus cultivation or the Way of the Flow or fucking transcendence? And something not written in arcane poetry,” he spat, distastefully. “I wish I could transcend my way to a real library.”
And, it was in that moment that I knew Lipos and I would be the best of friends.
It was his love of romantic power fantasies. The bitterness. The jaded misanthropy. The rolls of fat that promised to swallow me up in their warm, soft glory…
“You are very close again,” Lipos rumbled.
Ahh, right. “Personal space,” he called it.
I backed away to find him staring at me again, his forehead rolls crinkling. “Wait, but I thought you knew him – Horus, I mean. But you don’t even know about his books?”
“I do, it’s just we haven’t, uh, spoken lately,” I offered. Technically all true.
“So why is it such a secret that you like the books?” I asked quickly.
“Not everyone is so accepting,” the siren grunted.
“What? Why not?”
“Inter-species relationships are frowned upon,” DJ ‘lil P spoke up from the other side of the bar, his fingers tapping out a soft-yet-haunting melody – one that really set the mood. It seemed like he was always here lately. Seriously, he was getting really good at playing the pipes. And it felt like it sounded different – less screamy, you know?
“Did you do something to my keyboard?” I demanded.
The portly vulpin glanced at me with bleary eyes full of fresh friendship… and a healthy dash of fear. “Uh…” he hedged.
“I fixed the wailing death machine,” Lipos offered, with a wave. “Just infused a portion of my song spirit into it and carved some runes into a fresh layer of poo-crete.”
He waved at the machine. Now it produced a lilting, harmonic melody that resonated with the fabric of my soul.
It was a side grade at best.
DJ ‘lil P swallowed hard under my glare. “Ahh, as I was saying, most species stick to their own, if you know what I mean.”
“Is that like an official rule, or…”
The vulpin cocked his head. “Not exactly, it’s just that those that don’t usually end up dead.”
My eyes flitted to Lipos, the siren nodding.
Is that why he had said that thing about me and Fang? About his family not accepting me? Were they… were they racists? Or speciests? Could that be why Fang was so upset?
Huh, do you think… maybe that was what Lili had been talking about too? You know, with her incredibly confusing and inscrutable and coded criticism of Horus’ wank work? Could she have been talking about me and Fang? How there was this distance between us – both literal since he wasn’t here, but also figurative – an emotional distance? Neither one of us willing to be the one to make the first move? To be honest with each other?
Lili stirred, not quite touching my core.
She’d been really quiet since our creative writing seminar.
“I am reluctant to ask… but is something wrong?” Lipos asked.
I looked up to find both of them watching me. What was I doing? Sitting here and wallowing about Fang when I was supposed to be drinking with my new friends!
“It’s nothing,” I replied. “Just relationship problems. I have to say, I envy you both – your freedom. I miss my single days…”
“I’m not single,” DJ ‘lil P chirped, taking another swallow of friendship and making the cutest little burp I’d ever heard. Seriously, it was like a hiccup.
“Wait, what?”
“Didn’t I just say that inter-species relationships are frowned upon? I think?” he asked, blinking owlishly, his cheeks flushed. Then he shrugged. “Anyway, we moved out here ages ago. Me and the Misssus.”
Oh, shit. You heard it too right? It wasn’t just me?
I see a lot of nodding. Awesome.
I fucking told Lili it wasn’t racist!
Even DJ ‘lil P called his wife Misssus – which, implied what? That she was savran? Statistically, that seemed very likely. That was just math. And if she was savran, then, obviously, that couldn’t be her real name. Since, you know, it didn’t contain any murder.
“It’s still racist,” Lili muttered finally. “You don’t even know she’s savran!”
Ha, see? I knew I could break her!
Also, no it wasn’t, not if DJ ‘lil P was doing it—
“Actually, it is kind of racist,” the vulpin offered, looking at me deadpan.
Ahh, that was all out loud. Again. Lili could have fucking warned me—
“And once again, it’s on me to help you, isn’t it?” she snapped.
With that, she retreated from my core, leaving me staring at DJ ‘lil P.
Ahh, shit. I guess I had no choice but to double down, though.
“Um, how was it racist? You called her—”
‘It’s my nickname for her – a joke between the two of us,” the vulpin explained. “You call every single one of them Sssusie or Sssarah or Sssandra—
“Also, Sssophie,” Lipos added with a chuckle.
“See? That’s racist.” The little traitor fox pointed at Lipos. The siren just chuckled and shrugged, pounding back another fresh mug of friendship.
Shit, okay. I guess we needed to triple down.
“Okay, fine, then what’s your wife’s real name?” I demanded, arms crossed.
It was DJ ‘lil P’s turn to hedge, suddenly looking away. “That’s not important…”
I sensed weakness, which meant it must be awesome.
“Are you ashamed of her? Of her first kill?” I asked, grin widening.
“Wait, what?” Lipos asked in confusion.
“Yeah, that’s how savran get their names – they’re based on their first kills.”
“So weird,” the siren muttered, taking another swig.
The vulpin just stared back at me, feigning confusion, but he seemed to have forgotten that I was a staring contest champion. He soon took another big swallow of my piping hot friendship, and then cracked. Hard. “Fine. It’s… it’s Vaghammer.”
Time seemed to freeze, my mind kicking into overdrive. Even Lipos looked stunned, our eyes meeting. There were just so many questions – too many.
Then that tiny crack in DJ ‘lil P’s psyche split wide—
The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.
“See? Just… how? And do I really want to know?” DJ ‘lil P muttered, head in his hands. “I-I just can’t call her that. It’s too much. I had to come up with a nickname. I had to! That’s not racist!”
Ahh, I sympathized. I really did. But also…
“So… I was right?” I asked.
The vulpin just groaned. Lipos looked confused, then shrugged.
I was going to take that as a yes. Not racist! Knew it! Their naming system was just a horrible, awkward clusterfuck. Even worse than their mating—
Wait, hold on, I was still missing something, wasn’t I?
“How is he still alive?” Lili asked, too curious to resist.
Right, that! Shouldn’t Vaghammer have murdered him—
“You know why!” the vulpin groaned into his arms, proof that I still had no mouth filter. “I mean, I’m not too proud to admit it… I’m-I’m adorable.”
“I can’t help it!” he snapped, peeking up at us, tears in his eyes. Those huge round eyes, moisture welling perfectly at the corners. Ahh, and his lip was trembling.
Wow. He was right. He was really cute.
Even Lipos was resisting the urge to pet him…
“See? This is always the reaction I get!” the vulpin snapped, glaring back at us, our hands twitching. Although, in her defense, Maribel was just trying to kill him.
“That’s sort of our thing – the vulpin. Big eyes, little bellies, fluffy tails. Just like my brothers-in-law, I was already adapted to survive my mate’s love. Then the Misssus got controlling and weird and jealous. I mean, I was the only vulpin here. An exotic snack. You wouldn’t believe the things they said to me – the things they told me they wanted to do to my tails. How they’d paw at me and stroke my belly without even asking! Which is why she made me man the south gate – it was safer out there beyond the wall!”
I blinked. Blinked again. There was just a lot of information coming at me fast right now – like maybe too fast. Was DJ ‘lil P saying he lived in that little hut I’d blown up?
“But it still felt like she was pushing me away – sure it was for my own safety – but there were entire weeks she just forgot about me. Weeks,” DJ ‘lil P echoed.
He shook his head. “I guess, if I’m being honest, I’d gotten depressed.”
He hadn’t seemed depressed. He’d seemed cheerful – almost manically so.
“Which doesn’t sound familiar at all,” Lili drawled.
“Then you came along. You gave me another chance,” the vulpin said, grabbing my face between his adorable little paws, his eyes full of friendship.
Seriously, high doses of FJ made your eyes turn red.
“You saved my relationship.”
“Uh, how?” I managed to ask.
“You destroyed my hut. Gave me this keyboard – a purpose. And now our relationship is better than ever – me and the Misssus.”
“But what about the, uh… controlling jealousy part?”
Suddenly, the little fox person couldn’t meet our inquiring eyes.
“I, well… I like that part,” the little fox man said with an embarrassed shrug. “I’m a hit with the ladies here, they love to come listen to me play. And now that the others are on the prowl, well… the Misssus is finally paying attention to me again. It turns out that I like controlling, powerful women. Scaly and hard on the outside and buttery soft on the inside. The type of woman that will kill for you, even when she doesn’t have to.”
The vulpin smiled broadly, showing his sharp, little teeth. “And you wouldn’t believe the things she’s willing to do in the sack now. Sometimes, she traps me inside for days.” He looked very proud of himself at that one.
For my part, I was pretty confused. So was Lipos.
I mean, we had followed up questions, of course, but—
“So weird,” Lipos growled, shaking his head.
Not that DJ ‘lil P was listening. He was playing again, now singing along with the chords. “Wrap me up, tie me down, throw me in the sack and seal it—”
“Ahh, anyway… so I bet you’re enjoying the single life then?” I offered to Lipos. “Exploring the, uh, narrow, perfectly linear river?”
“Nope. I am also bonded, but not like this one,” the siren murmured, eyeing the little vulpin with a mixture of curiosity and confusion.
“Ahh, what’s your mate’s name—”
“Names,” Lipos corrected. “As in multiple mates.”
Ahh, right. “Um, how many?”
“One in every major port. So, five?” he offered with a shrug. “We’ve also forged 236 new vessels, 158 grandvessels, 123 great-grandvessels, and 84 great-great grandvessels.”
Holy shit. Alright, maybe I’d been wrong. Again. It happened sometimes.
“Why do you have so many?” I asked in shock.
And here I thought having three of my own was a lot.
Lipos and the vulpin shared a look. “Young vessels,” he said at the same time.
“What? What does my age have to do with it—?”
“How old is that vessel? Twenty cycles?”
“Twenty-five… I think,” I answered self-consciously.
They both laughed.
“I’m 156, the siren said.
“63.” That was the vulpin that time.
The siren noticed my shocked look. “It happens. Most races live a long time.” He eyed me. “Most other races anyway. And sirens don’t live as long as elves, so we have to make the most of it. Plant our seed.” He shrugged. “Besides, the little vessels are useful. How do you think we fill our crews? Obviously, we experience some losses.”
I hadn’t really given it much thought.
Huh, shit. Maybe I’d gotten lazy about asking questions…
Then another thought struck me—
“Aren’t you, uh, sad that they’re dead—I mean, if they were your kids?”
The siren scoffed. “Ahh, not really. Didn’t you hear me? I can always make more kids, but no one can make another me. Plus, I have plenty of kids. Why do you think I’m sailing all the way out here to the Outer Reaches? I needed a break – some space. Like I said, I can’t get any reading done at home. All that nagging and screaming and crying. The boat is the only place I can finally get some peace and quiet.”
He hesitated, grimacing. “Or, at least, it was…”
Wow. Does it feel like maybe other people have their own story going on off camera? One I’m totally not part of? Like, I didn’t even consider what losing his ship would mean to Lipos, did I? Or that our philosophies on child rearing would be so similar.
I was even starting to feel bad about running my experiment—
Ahh, shit. He was looking at me suspiciously…
“I’m sorry again about your ship,” I offered quickly, patting him on the back. “Still no idea what happened – we were just trying to signal your vessel to come to shore. We couldn’t possibly have foreseen that the sea serpents would be whipped up into a frenzy and tear apart your ship in a flurry of blood and fire and the tortured screams of the dying, stranding you and the remainder of your crew-children in the middle of a murder forest…
“But, uh, I guess we do now. It might even be possible to weaponize such a sound system to prevent any further ships from making it into port, which I guess would make it difficult or almost completely impossible for anyone to send reinforcements.
“Or invade Apati by water. Just saying.”
Lipos just raised an eyebrow at me… then heaved out a sigh. “It doesn’t matter. The Pod loses ships all the time. The Order will cover the cost of the materials and our shipwrights will have another in service in a week.”
He heaved out a big sigh. “The problem is that I don’t want to go back.”
“Oh, really?” I asked, unable to keep the excitement from my voice.
This was it! We had finally arrived at my real goal. My true motive.
This wasn’t just a friendly bonding session.
This was a job interview.
Lipos’ job interview.
“And get stuck at home while the ship’s being rebuilt? No thank you,” he muttered.
“You could stay.”
Lipos blinked at me, cocking his head. “Are you kidding? What would I even—”
“You heard my plan during the meeting with Peri. We’re planning to expand soon, start building a highway further north,” I interjected. “And we’re going to have to ship our merchandise somehow – obviously, the river’s out. I was thinking by land. We have a prototype whipped up already… what we need is a crew. Someone to drive it.”
The siren was staring now, looking intrigued. “Drive it, huh? Traveling by land?”
“Long days on the open road with just you and your crew and your wheeled armored death fortress carrying a priceless payload of friendship,” I corrected.
He was mulling on it, I could see it.
Then he snorted. “A dream. You’ve got the Butcher of Tartarus and the Sun Scientist on one side and Peri’s gods-damned suicide mission into the Hellforge on the other. You’ll probably be dead before the week is out.”
Possibly. I always assumed that was the case.
That way, I couldn’t be disappointed.
“You heard the plan to distract Horus and Eris,” I retorted. “And it doesn’t have to work for forever – just long enough for me and Fang to skip town. They’ll follow us.”
Lipos nodded. “But there’s still the Hellforge.”
Even DJ ‘lil P was looking nervous at the mention of it.
“You both look just like Fang. He’s been so negative about the Hellforge. Am I the only one that’s excited for the tour? It sounds really cool!”
The vulpin and Lipos shared an incredulous look.
“Right… yeah, the tour,” DJ ‘lil P said, his fingers pausing. “Um, do you even know what that forge is? How it was created?”
“No. Blank slate – I figured they’d tell us on the tour.”
Also, everyone else refused to answer my questions. Especially Fang.
Which is why I was nearly hanging off the edge of my bar stool…
The siren shook his head, slapping down his mug with a thunk. “Really? It’s famous throughout the Five Rivers. The reason this city even exists,” he offered.
DJ ‘lil P nodded. “He’s right. This city was founded by a powerful vessel, one that held a forge spirit in his core. His plan was build a utopia – someplace that wasn’t plagued by monsters or strangled by the Orders’ influence. “Somewhere where all species could be free. And with the rich source of metals from the river, the natural geothermal vents beneath the city, and the nimbus of Cocytus, this was the perfect spot.
“So, he built Apati. The gem of the southern reaches. A shining monument to peace and prosperity, its metal walls and towering buildings reflecting his ambition. He used that collection of nimbus to forge powerful relics and items. Technological marvels. And as the acclaim spread, so too did Apati grow. Others traveled here. Built homes. Families.”
“Built it all on top of a lie!” Lipos declared, smacking the bar.
Oh, a plot twist. I loved those!
“Vessels began going missing. One and two at first. Then dozens. Then hundreds. Eventually, the truth came out. The founder wasn’t harvesting native nimbus. He was sacrificing the settlors, bleeding them for their precious energy. That’s what he was using to create his relics. His weapons. His machines.”
“So, naturally, the remaining townspeople brutally murdered him,” the vulpin added with a shrug. Like that was normal. And I guess it was?
“Except the damage was already done,” Lipos continued. “The horrific deaths of all of those vessels tainted the spirits nestled within their cores. They created a corrupted gate in the center of the founder’s workshop – the Hellforge.”
So, basically the same thing as back in Anchon. Or close enough.
Lipos seemed to sense that I wasn’t phased.
“This gate is different,” he insisted. “It doesn’t release monsters. It draws in vessels like flies to honey. The desperate and the ambitious. And the prize? Control of the forge. The ability to create nearly anything – at least, so I’ve heard.”
“There have been a few that have managed it,” DJ ‘lil P.
“Although, never for long,” Lipos added.
“When the current founder loses control, the gate just goes dormant again – waiting,” the vulpin added, his eyes huge, the lighting low and haunting music drifting through the shadows around the room. The same ones that seemed to be clawing up the walls and away from the faint light of the nearby lantern.
Woah. Like, woah.
First off, I wanted this power so bad. Like so bad.
Seriously, I don’t think I’d ever been more excited for the Hellforge tour.
Also, they did a fantastic job with the ghost story. Like good lighting. Perfect ambiance. Great delivery. It almost felt like they’d practiced.
There was just one problem – one unanswered question.
“Why doesn’t Fang want me to go?” I muttered.
“He probably just doesn’t want to die,” Lipos offered. “Did you hear the story?”
“But that’s never stopped him before!” I replied. “He jumped into a corrupted gate with me for no reason. He could have just left! Same when we got out of the gate. If he didn’t want me to meet his family – if he was embarrassed by them – then why come with me? Why travel all that way? Just… why? I thought we had something special. True bromance, you know? But lately, I just can’t get him to communicate with me…”
DJ ‘lil P and Lipos looked at each other.
“What was that about bromance—” Lipos began in confusion.
“Ahh, what I think he meant to say,” the vulpin interjected quickly, glaring at the siren, “is maybe you’re just looking at it wrong. You’re right. Fang did come with you and he didn’t have to. Risked his life when he didn’t have to. And saved yours when he didn’t have to. So, maybe he just doesn’t want you to go into the Forge. Maybe he’s worried about you. That he isn’t sure what he’d do if he lost you… Maybe-maybe he even cares about you.”
I looked at Lipos. The siren glanced the vulpin, then said. “Uh, yeah. Probably that. Either way you shouldn’t go. It’s a death trap. Literally.”
I could barely focus on what he was saying.
There was this, uh, warmth in my chest. My lips twitching, forming a smile all on their own – one that didn’t even hurt. This new feeling was delightful – one I didn’t really have a word for, probably because I’d never felt it before. All I knew was it that it felt like being wrapped up in the best group hug ever.
Even better than lopsided killing sprees.
Or road trip songs and games.
Or small-scale civil engineering projects.
Then DJ ‘lil Prophet finally said the magic words.
“Maybe Fang’s telling the truth,” he said.
And in an instant, that feeling became something different. It grew a thousandfold – until that warmth spread out to my fingertips like liquid lava, my heart beat a frantic rhythm, and my lips started to crack and bleed. From smiling so hard, of course.
Because Fang never told the truth.
Especially not when it came to his feelings – or alleged lack thereof.
Which meant he had to be lying now. The only question was why.
And suddenly, everything Lili had been trying to tell me with her super cryptic double entendre made sense. Our communication problem was a challenge. Another competition. Like a staring contest… except with our feelings. Neither of us willing to be the first to make the first move – to be vulnerable with the other.
At least, not with our words.