Ch: 107 UwU That Smell
Esperanza cut through the river, towed by Falco and Marc’s magical propulsion gift. Ivy and Tallum huddled in the bow, watching the water and shore fly by. With their new little brother snugly bundled into the giant’s coat, it was a fine morning’s sail.
“This one rarely gives Falco leave to run… he does love a good workout. We will arrive in Port Ellis in two days or so. Bring this one’s baby brother below, lest he take a chill. Dante has tea and cakes.” That got them in motion.
#
At second bell, the little clearing and its pier were empty, only a few partied out local families knew they had even docked in the ward.
Entering town was as easy as last time, and the stink ring was just as needful. Adventure badges and a small fee got their horses into town, each received a small carved bone tag to hang on their bridle, showing the fees paid to the Puissant Conclave of Nightsoil Shovelers.
“A guild of crap haulers? That seems really specialized.” Gary noted as they walked their animals through the streets.
“They handle all waste hauling and the sewer system… in most cities and towns. Here, they primarily handle street waste, horse and other animal leavings and waste from the midden pits. Sewage is not considered a priority here.”
“So they just dump it in the sea?” He marveled. “Never mind surfing Liam… forget I mentioned it.”
Luna swatted Khan on the arm in mock outrage. “Baron Eglund is a fine leader of warriors and was once a mighty fighter in his own right, age and cares wear all men down.”
Khan nodded sagely, smiling at his wife and her sneaky grin. “He was never much of an administrator; blame the local guilds and the merchant league for the stench. Or maybe start some trouble…”
She shot a wicked, one eyed grin at Gary. “None who dwell in the lower quarters have been well pleased by the stench in recent years. I wonder if there is a song about that…”
Gary shot a look at Tawny for confirmation, she smiled and shrugged. “Port Fallon is a vassal realm of house Belen, but their affairs are their own in local matters.” Her smile faltered, as she found the edge of his ring’s range.
“Healer finds this situation highly distressing, as do most of the local residents. On our last visit I accepted a packet of complaints from the local temples, even War is beginning to worry that illness might affect combat readiness”
A disturbing giggle rose from the boy as they walked, making Liam go slightly pale. “Gary… we will be in this town for at least another two days…”
It was far too late, his guitar was out and softly wailing. Dannyl was already strumming along, finding his place in the slow, nasty blues riff. Becky’s harp joined Shai on top, as they began to step lightly in time.
“Aye, this be funky… an it do hae stank as well…” Her voice and hips shook the senses of the local market goers as they passed through the trade ward. “Mmm.. aye, tis filthy, boy o mine…”
She flushed bright red when she realized her whispered words were bouncing off the walls of the local shops, returning in sensual tones of rough velvet.
“You’re a natural babe, save some for the bridge…” He whispered to her, while covering his silver collar button. “Dannyl, Liam keep the rhythm going.”
Can you smell it baby,
Can you smell the funk?
Can you smell it baby,
Can you smell the funk?
Does it make you feel good,
Can you feel that sound?
Can you smell it baby,
What I'm putting down?
Amy and Wilford swayed happily to Buddy Guy’s lyrics, from their perch on the driver’s seat of the mystery machine; just enjoying the sunshine as their family had some good clean fun around them.
Local residents peered out windows and stepped onto balconies to get a look and listen. Smiles spread and quickly faded as they passed, carrying a bubble of clean air with them as they played and marched.
The strangeness of their procession, and the pool of reduced foulness in their wake created a bit of a parade as they slowly strolled. The madman handed lead guitar off to Dannyl, with a gentle tug of his gifts.
He gave Becky a wink, as she took the lead, drawing the band and Gary’s threads of musical magic into her own deft fingers. Shai’s violin lifted the music into a joyous and bouncy experimental space, while Becky took a very toe tapping detour into showtunes.
Climbing over rocky mountain,
Skipping rivulet and fountain,
Passing where the weeping willows quiver
Passing where the willows quiver,
Gary moved through the band, slipping ear cuffs onto the strolling players. Each one expanded the ring of fresh air surrounding the band. Slowly he spread his players out, creating a good sized zone of pleasant and delightful leisure.
The girls took the fore with Becky and Amy sharing lead vocals, while the boys had a fine time skipping through a rollicking good tune in whatever falsetto they could manage…
“Ohh wow! You guys really locked that one in!” Gary cheered his friends and family. “Bannock, Herlick! I knew you two had it in you!” Bannock flushed bright red and tried to hide their tambourine.
“Don’t be shy, it was marvelous fun!” Herlick cheered, flourishing her jingling instrument happily. The music wound down as they left the trades quarter and entered less permissive environs. They pretended to be just another traveling party… unconvincingly.
Jingling bells on halters and hips, bright blue cart in tow and kids on the bench, they were unsubtle. In the higher reaches, the jewelry became less necessary.
Just a few hundred yards from the docks, the fetid stank thinned. Even the remaining wisps of fog were less flavorful in the temple and bureaucratic quarter.
One uniformed pensioner stood at the Adventure gate, watching for unfamiliar faces. “Khan… back so soon with your ducklings?” The old man took in the mismatched gaggle of kids, veterans and striplings with a jaundiced eye.
“Traded in the big one for some small fry?” He asked, eyeing Wilford and Amy’s gear and wooden Adventure badges.
“The ‘big one’ is expected soon, watch out lest he step on you, unknowing.” Khan patted the old man on his bald pate in a condescending manner, while looming over the diminutive fellow.
The little fellow reached out and clutched at Shai’s skirts pleading in a dramatic imitation of terror. “Mighty warrior! Please, protect me from this tyrant and his extraordinarily beautiful horse!”
“Come by the back lot after your duties, Goa. We will be camping there for a day or two, come enjoy our humble camp’s hospitality.” Luna called from behind Annie. “Our tents are hardly moldy at all, while our supplies are nearly dry and weevil free!”
They jingled and clattered into the busy compound and were swallowed by the activities. Far in the back of the walled yard, in a dismal, weed strewn patch of shaded ground a tall, striking woman and an old man stood waiting.
“Ok Khan, what will I be calling this throbbing pain in my ass?” The old dude called cheerfully.
“Ginger Dreadnought, Sir!” Liam snapped a salute with crisp precision, ever the leader.
“Mmm, you’ll do just fine…” He murmured, eyeing Liam and Dannyl. Shai and Becky perked him right up. “A smith and a mage of some sort? You will be fine… where is your heavy…”
His eyes slipped past Gary for a moment, before sharpening and snapping back like a raptor’s gaze. “Oh, a sneaky heavy? Unconventional… I don’t like unconventional Khan…” Ferris grumbled. “What’s wrong with him? Feels like he’s vibrating like a struck bell.”
“He’s our support monkey, we have our heavy and another mage on the way. Liam, Shai, Dannyl and Becky are all competent apprentices…” Khan explained, as he introduced the team.
“Look in the cart, old man… conventional left town.” Heather said softly, while grinning wide.
“Dear gods… children.” He sighed.
“We’re real ‘Venturers! We got badges!” Amy replied, with Wilford nodding along silently.
“You tell’em Amy!” The big sneaky one cheered, while strumming something quick and rhythmic on a guitar. “We gotta get set up, cause lunchtime is coming and we all need a nap. ‘Scuse us elders, while we do our thing.”
“What’s your name, boy?” Heather asked, narrowing her eyes.
He smiled in a disturbing way while the smith woman produced a violin. She fell right to sawing something strange on her instrument. Fast and staccato, their toes began tapping within a few bars.
“Me? I’m nobody important… if you must know…”
Stolen story; please report.
Oh! my name is Gary Nomiddlename Ward,
A silly and indolent bard…
Incompetent verses
And musical circus
With enchantments
And rituals we really do rather well.
I'm a dealer in magic and spells,
In blessings and curses
And ever-filled purses,
In prophecies, witches, and knells…
Fast paced, catchy and crisply punctuated; the song swept over the group and the gathered curious onlookers like a spring flood.
We've a first-class assortment of magic;
And for raising a posthumous shade.
With effects that are comic or tragic,
There's no cheaper house in the trade…
Khan and Luna swirled, elbows tucked together and spinning in exultant, high stepping dance. While they twirled the music wound tighter and faster, leaping to a climax.
If any one anything lacks,
He'll find it all ready in stacks,
If you simply come in
The secrets we spin
Will satisfy or your money back!
Shai struck a sharp chord, strumming her violin to draw the lead away.
We dinnae guarantee joy
Our strongest crafts we’ll deploy,
An ye dinnae be pleased,
We’ll address yer needs…
But refunds ye will nae enjoy!
As silence fell, save for the giggling duo and their still resonating instruments; a huge wash of steam billowed from the garden gate, pouring over the wall. The herbal and mineral tang of a hot spring wafted over the compound, carried on the steam.
“Wow gang… that was really tight… I’m impressed, you’ve been working so hard…” He scooped his tiny children up in his arms and hip bumped the beautiful woman he shared them with, in absolute pleasure.
“Impossible fish and chips? I saw Nara haggling in the fish market… we still have that eldritch lingcod, just gotta ignore the hooves when I fillet it.” He shuddered as they went inside.
#
Within an hour, Becky had a booth set up just within his invisible boundary, selling impossible worm nuggets on the cheap. She and Herlick shoveled vast quantities of cubed and coated meat through Gary’s magic fryer.
Liam and Dannyl worked feverishly, desperate to fuel their sisters’ ambitions and empty the house of worm.
Amy wielded a wooden paddle to cut open hot triangular loaves of bread, handed to her by Wilford. Herlick worked the fryer, while Becky topped each roll with a heap of crisp nuggies. Each pile of worm that left the boundary sizzled one last time, as the imaginary fat evaporated in a pleasant scented smoke.
Shai stood behind a tray of sauces; the lovely sweet ginger soy that Gary loved almost as much as tzatziki was popular everywhere. Shai learned to make it, just so Gary wouldn’t pauper them at the noodle shops and dumpling houses.
Exotic sauces like ‘bibbly que’ a sweet, tomato based sauce from Garysland quickly developed a following, as did the equally exotic ‘buffalo’ and grenadier pear sweet and sour.
An Iron bit for bread with nuggies, or two bits with a sauce was small change, almost a giveaway. Street vendor prices were casual commerce here, as in Wheatford, thus unregulated.
Their coin barrel rapidly filled in the busy yard, Becky almost wept when Shai shut the stall down at fourth bell for Amy and Wilford’s naptime.
“But we still have so much… so awful much…” She was an Adventurer now…
“Adventurers don’t cry, no matter the menu.” Becky reminded herself while hugging her little brother and sister.
“We can sell more tomorrow!” Amy chirped, while trying to lift the small keg of bits and failing hard.
#
Gary was in the workshop, tools in hand gently scribing delicate whirls and spiraling vines into a complex brass and bronze device. A shadowy figure stood at his shoulder, looking over with interest.
“What’s this, revenant? Our druids of old seldom worked arts in metal, since you all discovered that filthy iron stuff.” Morrigan shuddered and leaned closer to look.
“A tool? A weapon? No, an instrument, I smell the bard in you…”
“It’s not finished yet. Thanks for not leading with your titties this time, I appreciate it.” He grumbled. “Workshop time is usually private, how can I help you?”
“One of Beast’s children offered you a contract for an undead infestation… I would like you to accept it, as would Beast.”
He turned and saw what his ears and ungroped genitals already told him; Matron had come calling. “My team is considering it, no promises. Can I request you or Crone in the future? Maiden is really handsy.”
“We will consider it… no promises.” She whispered as she vanished into a mundane shadow.
“Ok, I was kinda asking for that one.” He went upstairs to see what was going on in the daylit world above.
#
Liam was in the garden, tending a small plot of fresh earth, with Tawny tinkling on the pianoforte in the common room. The music spilled into the garden and made the wisps of drifting steam appear to dance.
“Whatcha diggin, Liam?” He squatted down beside and stirred the earth with one finger. Liam swatted his hand away with a chuckle.
“Fat fingered oaf, it’s that tobacco you were so excited to trade for. Tawny says some people smoke the stuff… you know it’s addictive and awful for you right?” The young fitness freak sucked his teeth in disappointment.
“Nahh, I want it for ritual use, there are some spirits that consider it sacred… It has uses in alchemy too, it’s handy stuff! You’ll see.” They stood and went in to wash up together, enjoying the improvisational jazz coming from the common room.
“Dannyl and Becky have the local older orphans in the pool right now, giving them the talk. They should be finishing soon, Shai and Bannock are in the market getting supplies.”
“Kids are waking up, I feel them…” Gary began as he eased onto his favorite pickin’ stool to join the jam sesh. Amy bolted downstairs with Wilford right behind and aimed right for his lap.
“Shai said you’d take us shopping when we woke up!” The high speed chatter box somehow wound up in his lap, behind his guitar. He gently eased her left hand into an A chord and used her right to strum. “Ooo! That’s fun!”
“Your big brother Dannyl said much the same his first time. What will we be shopping for?”
She made herself comfortable and strummed again, without his urging. “Candy, hair ornryments, clothes… makeup… perfume…”
“Wilford, what are we really shopping for?” He asked his quiet, sober child.
“Fishing.” He said, as though that cleared everything up.
“Shai is shopping for fishing tackle in the market ward.” Becky said, from the bath entrance, as a troop of older teens marched past. They were looking clean and thoughtful, pondering new ideas and choices.
It didn’t take long to find tall, ginger and jingling Shai in the market. She had her violin and chimes working, dueling against a fisherman with a very fine flute.
The old man’s instrument was a long, amber yellow bone, with brass keys and bronze ringed finger holes. A tassel of bright red swayed merrily, as he played a jig with very intricate fingerings.
“Aye, now ye hae trouble Barney! Ye kinnae match against the whole family!” She shot Gary an annoyed glance and shake of her hips. “Get tae drumming boy!”
She cracked his gifts against his own backside like a muleteer with a wicked grin. Even cruel Becky winced at the cheerfully aggressive snap of magic.
The low thud of her boy’s bodhran rattled up and swept her away. He winked and took her beat for a ride, swaying into a bouncy music hall number that set Shai’s heels flying. A complex melody started from his lips, whistling haunting lines over the happy beat.
In Dublin's fair city,
Where the girls are so pretty,
I first set my eyes on sweet Molly Malone,
As she wheeled her wheel-barrow,
Through streets broad and narrow,
Crying, "Cockles and mussels, alive, alive, oh!"...
His sweet cheerful tale of a fishmonger took a grisly turn, while retaining a lilting and happy mood.
She died of a fever,
And no one could save her,
And that was the end of sweet Molly Malone.
But her ghost wheels her barrow,
Through streets broad and narrow,
Crying, "Cockles and mussels, alive, alive, oh!"
His whistling, minor key melody returned, bouncing among the stone walls and scattering shore birds. It haunted the market for a while… Until the poor fool realized he had spoilt the mood.
“Aww… they love that one back home…”
“Too spooky. Think about why you chose that song… you could have picked any of hundreds, why that one?”
Becky gave him a compassionate squeeze on the arm, while Shai finished her negotiations with the old fisherman. A bundle of split bamboo rods, a few reels and a collection of artfully tied flies and lures traded hands for a few coins.
“Come back when ya want to learn the art of tying flies child. It’s a dying art… these kids today and their live bait…”
Shai kissed the codger’s wrinkled cheek and spun into her boy’s arms, while tucking her purchases away in his clothes. “An we be by the water side, tis only meet that we dangle a line now an then…
“You just wanna get Khan and Luna on the boat so you can ride Annie.” Gary complained.
“Nay, I would hae thee an me ride taegether an the others sail…” Her mildly lascivious wink and grin sold him on the idea. “Or mayhap some lazy day we go fishin… alone. This boat do hae a canvas cover an curtains…”
The giggling duo played grabbass whenever the kids were distracted by the lively market, it was a very distracting market indeed.
Green capped orphans slipped through the crowd, unpicking pockets and slipping samples into shopping baskets. Other kids were trading at the stalls, swapping chocolate for goods and bargaining hard.
A teenage girl had her shield and broadsword on a smiths bench, bargaining with gusto.
“I’ll give two bonbons and a truffle for the maintenance and repairs, and lighten the pommel a touch, ease the balance forward.”
Gary tried to stroll over, when Shai grabbed him by the belt as Becky intercepted from the other side.
“Aye, we could do that at our shop… An ye wish tae cripple the Patissiers, ye must let the trades happen… we did send them tae trade fer services, ye would flood the market yae?”
“We gotta get the shopkeepers and tradesman in the game, asking where they can buy more for coin…” Becky grinned in a very predatory way.
“But they can’t… see where we are going? That’s gonna pressure the trade association.”
“Leave business tae those wi the minds fer it. Yer charitable soul boy, I love thee for it… Let us do yer bloodletting.” The devious pair, tall and bright, dark and small, both had the same hungry look in their eyes.
“Angbold did step in a morass wi me an Becky. Twixt we an thee, he shall be pulled down tae the depths.”
#
“...so a group of orphans established a trade house making this confection, in your backyard… Unbeknownst to you.”
The unnamed woman in all concealing dark robes sighed sadly.
“Where did they learn this art? Whence came the sugar and cacao? Who built their mills? Where even is their manufactury? How is it being distributed? By whom? Where did these green capped children get those wheeled boards and shoes?” She paused for a moment to let that soak in for a bit.
“All these questions and more beg for answers… Yet all you did was start a row in public and cozy up to the local craft priest.” Her flat and featureless cowl managed to convey the impression of a sceptically raised eyebrow.
“I am a freelancer, hired to troubleshoot this problem…” She said, in that unidentifiable but displeased voice. “Hired by the merchant’s association, to restore stable commerce in this region… This is bad for trade and bad for business. Your guild’s complaint should have been brought to us first.”
That landed like a hammerblow on Angbold’s ears. “My guild has been entrusted with this work for centuries! Our unbroken line is threatened by the upstart waifs…” He turned on the official, snaring like a cornered animal.
“Who is funding their rise? Who is producing this confection and how… dear gods and spirits how…?”
“All things you should have at least tried to discover… before involving the law, certainly before bringing it to the attention of Leopold Belen!” Her hood shook side to side in disappointment.
“He is an orphan, married into titles… now you contest with the orphans of his own town… and he is judge. I wonder that your guild made it this long.” She rose silently and drifted for the door.
“I will be monitoring the situation. Do not discomfit the association, do not destabilize commerce further. The rest will be resolved by me. Your fate lies in the court in Wheatford… one way or another.”
#
“So you gave these new ‘stink rings’ to your green capped minions…” The old orphanage director said very slowly.
“Yes!” The young scamp replied, still whistling and humming at his workbench.
“The ‘aroma bands’ that nobles and veteran Adventurers have been clamoring for… to orphan children… for free? Why man why, and why will you not sell them?” The geezer was red faced and sweating, even though the shop was cool and nicely ventilated.
“Not allowed to. I’m not a licensed apprentice in any craft…” He muttered quietly. “I can put items up for auction but only if a trade master co-signs. I can only barter legally and I don’t barter for enchanted items.”
He stopped working for a moment, though his fingers kept snapping the beat. “So nope, my kids get them, everybody else has to negotiate.”
At that the old man ginned. “Lets negotiate then, I want one, you have many. What do you want in trade?”
“I want your orphans. All of them.” He gave the old man a level gaze, as though that were anything but the demand of a madman.
“Are you daft? Orphans can’t foster at all. The law is clear, you can’t have them, they belong to the Adventure guild.” Ferris grumbled. “Where’s that smith girl, she’ll talk sense.”
“Otho is coming here in a day or two. He’s agreed to show you how I want things done. Give me what I want, you get what you want.” He smiled pleasantly. “Run this place the way Wheatford runs and you will never look back. Or smell that smell again.”
He went back to whistling, as he used a tiny tool to make infinitesimally small marks in a tiny scrap of bronze.
“Don’t try and get one from my kids.” He said softly as the old man rose to leave in a fury.
“The ring only works as intended for the first person to put it on. They can’t be traded or taken away. I deal in blessings and curses…”
#