Ch: 127 Wicked Game
It wasn’t until the wee hours before dawn that Irving sat bolt upright in the most comfortable bed that had ever cradled his buttocks. “Dear gods… we never even posted a watch.”
He dressed in the soft green robe and bright yellow, banana slug slippers his host provided and slipped out into the hallway. He crept into the barracks room and found nothing amiss, his troopers bundled up in their bunks and fast asleep. Even wary and paranoid Curlew was asleep, the scout was impossible to catch with her eyes closed on any normal night.
Restless and upset, he sat down at the pianoforte in the common room. He took the felt key cover off, placed it across the strings and closed the top. The lord began tinkling a gentle melody on the muffled instrument, softly and sweetly sad. He played and thought for a while, feeling the music more keenly in this strange place for some reason.
“Nice, does it have lyrics?” The big, brown haired man asked, seated beside him on the piano bench, but facing the other way and playing along by ear, on his strange guitar, just as softly.
“No, it’s just something I’m working on… How long have you been sitting there, young man?” He asked, without dropping his melody.
“Since that second measure, with the suspended F sharp. Very nice.” He replied happily, taking a brief solo.
“You are a sneaky one, aren’t you… scout?” Irving asked, switching up the tune for something lighter.
“Support monkey, mostly. I carry the bags and polish the gear. A little music, a little magic, a bit of rock and roll.” He replied with a smile.
“You are an awful liar. I owe Khan a few favors so I won’t be asking any more questions… you should know that I am duty bound to report anything I learn to my lord…”
“Really?” The man asked, with an odd light in his eyes.
“Yes, my orders are explicit. If I encounter ‘Belen’s new mad wizard’, I am honor bound to report completely and accurately, everything I learn. I suspect you are that person…”
“If I were… not that I am… but if I were, you would report our interactions… in detail?”
“I would and I will. Consider anything you say to me, to be audible to my lord upon my return.” He said with a sad smile.
“Can I tell you a story? A story about a madman who drowned one god and is planning on murdering another… There’s cursed underwear too…”
#
Shai woke several times as her boy thrashed and turned about, until he finally got up and went downstairs a few hours before dawn. When she got up at dawn, he seemed more energetic at least.
He was down in the workshop, deep into his bandsaw project in the early morning hours with Ivy and Tallum, while chatting with the leader of the warband from the duchy of Shiraz. The poor fellow looked upset for some reason.
#
Once more the knock on his chamber door came, soft but insistent, disrupting one of the few quiet moments in life… “Enter, if you dare.” Duke Mubarek grumbled. When his military adjutant entered, his grumble became a long suffering sigh.
“Hassan, my cousin, beloved blood of my blood… is that a fringe scout’s report? If this is some more of Belen’s ridiculous…”
The young lord coughed awkwardly and opened his battered scroll. “The fringe my lord, it’s moving out.”
With a muttered curse, the duke leapt from the tub and scrabbled at his robe. “Gods above and below! What have we lost?”
“No my lord, it’s moving back, slowly. Professor Glinntz suggests some disruption on Rummel’s border. You now hold the lost barony of Alum and its estates, as your great great great great grandfather did.”
“Rummel… What could that foolish child have discovered?” He sat back and stroked his immaculately trimmed beard. “Alum, none of that direct line survive… tell me more, what has moved the fringe?”
“That remains occult at the moment my lord, viscount Kline was patrolling the region and sent a brief dispatch. He promised more details as they are revealed.”
Abed muttered darkly and brooded for a while. To be fair, ‘darkly brooding’ was a very good look on the handsome duke.
“Thank the gods, we needed some good news. While my vassals are busy debating who I should invest this shiny new, old domain on, we have leverage with the conservatives. They do so love old things.”
“On that note, my lord…” Hassan muttered unhappily and lingered over his next missive.
“Out with it man, I’ve work to do.” Abed had the message from Kline on his desk, pouring over every line and wrinkle.
“Priest Sanders of War, your grace. He once more objects to your request, he is becoming obstinate. I fear some rumors are leaking out my lord…”
“If old Sanders wants his budget funded he will comply, or I can send an auditor from Order to look over his books, in detail. If I must pay for his damn orphanage, I’ll do what I wish with it.” The duke’s eyes flashed with indignation as he spoke.
“Now my bath is tepid, how disappointing. Tell old Sandyass to send me two boys tonight. No, make it two boys and a girl, I’m feeling… experimental.”
Hassan bowed and slipped out the door, distress and worry written all over his face.
#
The soft scratch at his private salon brought a smile of anticipation to the duke’s lips, baring even, white teeth and looking hungry. His freshly polished and honed instruments laid out on a cloth covered tray, gleaming fixtures and the leather upholstered furniture in the brightly lit chamber were all easy surfaces to clean.
The door opened and three small children were brought in by one of his guard. “That will be all, dismissed.”
When the armored figure departed, two boys around ten and a girl of twelve stood nervous and frightened, their backs to the closed and locked door.
Their homespun clothes were clean but worn thin and fit poorly. The boys’ ankles jutted from their trouser cuffs absurdly, over their bare feet. The girl’s dress barely reached her knees.
“Perfect…” The duke whispered, taking a lock of the trembling girl child’s hair between his perfectly manicured fingers and stroking her cheek. “You three are going to be so much fun.”
He ordered the tallest of the boys to sit in a strange, padded chair that spun and tipped. The duke threw a white sheet over the trembling lad and drew a cover from the table nearby.
Shining blades and pronged devices in steel and brass were arrayed on the tray, gleaming in the lights. “I’m going to enjoy cutting you, boy…” The duke whispered serenely.
“Close on the sides, finger length on top? We will keep that lovely ducktail back there.” He asked, holding up his shears with a smile of absolute pleasure.
#
“No! You can’t do that…” The girl whispered piteously while the duke Loomed over her trembling form.
“I can and I will… those are the rules.” His voice was calm and matter of fact as he reached out and placed his game piece on her square. “Back ten spaces for you Maddie.”
“Abed, play nice, they are just learning your silly game.” Jaspreet whispered in his ear, while she swept up the hair trimmings from the floor around the duke’s secret barber’s station.
“What ‘silly game’? This activity teaches counting, learning rules, following instructions and the importance of losing with good grace…” He patted the disconsolate girl fondly.
“When you teach the other children this game, then you will taste the sweetness of victory, which I am currently savoring.”
Andre and Gustavo both crossed their arms in solidarity with Maddie. “We think you cheated. Nobody rolls that many sixes!”
The guard came and collected three freshly bathed children with immaculate hairstyles from the duke’s secret salon, escorting them back to the orphanage with the latest of several colorful board games of the duke’s design.
“Nobles… always weird.” Durrant, the Adventure compound watchman mumbled softly as the mailed warrior marched in with his giggling, happy troop.
“Not my place to question, brother.” Fanders muttered from behind his helm. “Weird indeed.” He added even more softly as he marched off alone.
#
Abed smiled and shook his head fondly, as his politically astute and utterly devoted lover set about reorganizing his realm, while serving tea.
“We should absolutely invite Belen to the wedding. You and he have been near to feuding for years over your grandfather’s foolishness. Time to be big boys and hug it out.” Jaspreet Hind scolded her liege lord gently.
“I should rather hug a midden heap than some jumped up nameless peasant in ducal regalia.” He grumbled sourly. “Never mind having him present at my own marriage.”
“Your grandfather tried to blackmail Belen’s pet wizard into betraying him… and did a clumsy job of it. Trying to use Gunnar Singh in his ploy was even worse. If a grown man wants to juggle knives, he’d best expect to get a few cuts… Why are you still nursing his injured pride after so long?” She demanded gently.
Poor Abed had that stubborn look on his face, the one he got when he couldn’t remember why he was angry anymore. “Just because you are usually right about these things… no reason to get cocky.” He grumbled.
Reading on Amazon or a pirate site? This novel is from Royal Road. Support the author by reading it there.
“Gunnar Singh emigrated to Wheatford for his own reasons. Aside from that, Leopold Belen is an honorable man, despite his common roots. Why must you be such a snob?”
“Because he was able to marry the love of his life, while I must still creep about with mine. Because my best friend went to live in Belen’s domain, even after my Grandfather retired in shame for his failed plot.” He replied bitterly.
“Ahmed retired in embarrassment, not shame, the old schemer. You should invite Gunnar as well, we could get the whole group back together.” She sang happily. “This is just the excuse and leverage we needed.”
#
Tawny and the tall, burly viscount were sitting at a table, deep in conversation. They fell silent whenever anyone drew too near, causing some speculation.
“Noble gossip.” Becky whispered when Gary asked. They were both still tired and sore, Becky had violet stuff on her fingertips, protecting her blistered fingers. All night jam sessions take a toll, especially on new players.
She pulled her big bro out to the kitchen, so they could dish and he could make some breakfast. All night jam sessions have to be fueled, as well.
“I guess duke Mubarek is seeing some young widow, it’s a bit of a scandal. Rumor is they were childhood sweethearts and she was forced to marry someone else for some reason… it’s murky. Anyway, he refused to marry anyone; since he’s duke, nobody could make him. There’s a whole ‘line of succession’ thing that nobles are really into.”
“Wow… that was a lot.” Gary mumbled quietly.
“Ducky is becoming quite the gossip hound, he’s been more in touch with his Secret side than he used to be, lately. Probably cause you haven’t been by much.” Becky said sourly.
“Work on that. It’s weird not seeing you there. Shai won’t tell you, but it’s eating at her.”
“Ok, I get it, things have been crazy. Tell me about this gossip Ducky is excited over. So, why isn’t everyone happy for them? Sounds like a second chance at happiness.”
Liam sat down at the bar and leaned close to the pair as they worked, spreading a sweet spicy filling onto a wide sheet of yeasty dough and rolling it up. “Jaspreet Hind cannot marry duke Mubarek, she is barren.” The young warrior whispered. He watched as Gary deftly snipped the long roll of dough into thick disks.
“She was born with both male and female genitals, it’s very rare and often tragic. We discussed her case in my medicine lessons with Tawny. Several complex spells and a surgery were needed to preserve her life, but she will never have children, so they cannot wed.”
“That’s dumb, they have plenty of options, surrogates, adoption, he’a a duke. He can do what he wants.” Gary grumbled as he put a few trays of cinnamon rolls in the warming oven to rise.
“Tradition and the law dictate a ruler must provide an heir, marrying a woman known to be infertile would cause a succession conflict in his realm.” Liam said softly. “Nobles may be wealthy and powerful, but they too can be trapped by circumstance and tradition.”
“It’s weird how you guys just know everything about everyone… I could never keep track.” Gary paused for a moment. “How much do people know… about me?”
Becky and Liam both sighed and shook their heads in tandem. “There is so much gossip, most of it completely unbelievable. I don’t know where to start.” Liam complained, with a smile of pleasure.
“The things that seem possible are complete fabrications on the orphan’s part.”
“Uhh…” Gary opined, adding his full measure of wit to the conversation.
“Some say, you were shipwrecked and hit your head, a simple lost fool.” Becky almost crooned her words, enjoying them entirely too much. “Others claim you to be the deeply inbred scion of some lost fringe house, driven mad by grief.”
“Hey! That’s a bit mean… I never called you ‘scion’.” He whined.
“Scion is just a way to say offspring, without indicating any gender or legitimacy.” Becky said sharply, displeased to have her stride broken. “We did a few others just as weird and embarrassing.”
“The orphan’s league decided to muddy the waters a bit. Embarrassing stuff spreads faster and is more believable.” Becky sang out happily.
“What about the unbelievable stuff?” He asked, deeply curious now.
“Most of that is true, plus a bunch we made up. I think the current most popular is that duke Belen has some secret orphan training program. We spread it around that the rumors are all about different orphans, not just one weirdo.” Becky giggled as she dished up hot rice porridge.
“I hear some nobles are experimenting with their own orphan training schemes to try and keep up.”
“Did I start an arms race?” He asked softly over the fryer. “If they start getting weird…” He jiggled his basket of sizzling potatoes nervously.
Becky flicked his ear. “I think I know what you’re imagining, forced training camps… that kind of stuff? Yeah dummy, we already do that. Wheatford is better than most orphanages, or so I hear, but we are going to go to War, most of us.” She flicked him again when it was time to dish up the fried potato wedges.
“We get the training from the start. Orienteering, foraging, combat, survival, first aid, more combat, same as everywhere. Put those cinnamon rolls in, I’ll tell you when they’re done.
#
Axio came out of hiding when the warband rode off at second bell. Once they were lost in the remaining fog, so too did the little band of crazies. They and their guide began their own long trek home.
“They will be snooping around that ruin, is anyone worried what they might find?” Dannyl asked as they rode. “Anything that might be awkward if found out…?
“The fig tree’s roots were already collapsing that underground passage when we left. Whatever they learn, they learn.” Gary was trotting along the boggy track, since his stick horse needed a firm trail to roll on and he was useless on horseback.
The mystery machine was not swamp capable, so Becky rode double with Dannyl and Gary had to slog his way through.
Following their own path through the mire brought them onto the road in just a few hours’ travel. Gary pulled his own weight once he had wheels under him, speeding their journey nicely. They made an early halt, beside a rushing stream and among the sequoias. With the evening sun sinking on the distant fog shrouded horizon through the towering giants, Gary rolled out the house.
“I’ma take it slow and easy this time. Things got weird on the last one…” He trailed off, picking and strumming his mandolin in a sweet, melancholy melody.
“Oh, that’s nice…” Herlick cheered when Dannyl joined on guitar. Before long, the whole strange group of youngsters had some kind of noisemaker in hand, gently thumping and tinkling along with the sweet, breathy music.
See the curtains-hangin' in the window,
In the evening, on a Friday-ni-i-ght
A-little light a-shinin' through the window,
Let’s me know every-thing's all-right.
Summer breeze makes me feel fine,
Blowin' through the jasmine in my mind…
He was sweating and looking peaked when it was done, but the house seemed perfectly ordinary this time, by magic weirdo house in the wilderness standards. The yard and garden were back to normal size.
The steam cloud still roiled and drifted among the enormous trees decorating the nearby boughs with tattered shreds of lingering mist, shining in the pink and orange sunset.
The band broke for the garden gate, eager to get the mud and sweat of a long day’s hard travel cleaned off, while Khan, Luna and Shai dragged the spent musician inside.
“Looks like it did before… whatever that last one was. You ok, boy?” The mustachioed veteran eyed his surroundings with a critical look on his face. “Feels like you are hiding something…”
“Mmm, yeah, My influence stretches a bit farther now, bout two hundred yards from the wall… I can’t do much with it, but man, we are going to be hard to sneak up on.” He mumbled, easing down into the bath, as his armor and gear vanished. “Don’t wake me for dinner please, feels like I’ll never eat again...” With that, he was asleep, face down in the pool, floating about aimlessly.
#
Duke Julius and his guard quick-timed it up the road, pushing near the limit of human and animal endurance. Alex, the duke’s captain managed the troop carefully, leaving just enough wind in the troops’ sails to make camp and keep watch schedules.
“Any faster and we would be useless when we arrive, my lord.” He replied to the duke’s gentle demands for more speed. “Our supplies and baggage are already a full day behind us.”
Pairs of riders would peel off from the twenty man unit, riding down lonely tracks to give the warning to lonely farmsteads and tiny hamlets set back among the trees and waterways. They returned quickly, invariably carrying some gift of foodstuffs or drink, with reports of stable, simple country folk untroubled by any unusual events.
“Nothing? No monsters or bizarre phenomena?” Julius asked yet again, while sampling a lovely ripe mango, from a generous farmer.
“Our men report that the wildlife behaved oddly a few days ago, singing strange, beautiful music for an entire day and into the night.” Alex grunted with displeasure as he reported in.
“More woodswise folk have suggested that the local insects and small life are still harmonizing in odd ways, at times. No doubt some strange witchcraft is afoot.”
His sour look said he knew who was probably responsible for that bit of strangeness and disliked the reminder intensely.
A few baskets of fruit, bread and a few big clay jugs of something like beer did wonders for the weary troopers’ rations of dried meat and vegetables stewed in a helmet.
Cadwillow and Bennigan emerged from the bush, lugging a good sized boar strung on a spare lance. “Farmer pointed us at it… somebody start some rice.” Bennigan called happily as they bustled into camp and handed off their cargo.
Penryn had his big round shield heating over a fire in moments and started stir frying strips of pork and onions before the horseline was even staked out.
Julius wandered among his troop, bearing a hand here and there, with the kind of comfortable informality he could never enjoy in the confines of the palace. He ate, sitting on the ground, leaning his back against Kai-ling’s and enjoying a simple meal in the glorious outdoors.
“Hey, Kai, try this, it’s like soy sauce, but made from duskmoon beans.” Julius passed over a thick glass bottle.
She took it with a happy nod and drizzled a little of the slightly thick, glossy brown liquid over her bowl.
“Ngggghh!” Gasping a huge cloud of steam from her scalded open mouth and gasping with sublime pleasure at the same time was undignified, she didn’t care.
“Too hot, but oh, gods that’s tasty.” She said thickly, before burning her tongue again with another spoonful of the steaming stuff. “Oww! Worth it!”
The bottle was nearly empty by the time it made the rounds, followed by moans of delight and the quiet clatter of wooden bowls and spoons.
The camp fell silent as exhausted warriors and their mounts rested, Julius and Carrick, Alex’s second stood first watch at sundown, watching the woods and the sunset as it burnished his realm with golden light.
“Strange…” Carrick mumbled as they passed on their rounds. “Woods aren’t quiet, it’s more like the critters are in harmony, almost sounds like…”
The duke grinned at the older man and began to whistle softly, the melody from ‘Blue Moon’, one of that mad boy’s favorite tunes. Crickets, frogs and a chirping chorus of batlizards sang along, in time and on key.
He kept whistling as the pair went around lighting the skeeter lamps scattered through the camp and horseline.
For some reason, it seemed the duke’s whistle brought more of the local carnivores closer to camp, doing awful things to the skeeters in the process.
#
Ticliti’ctichty could feel the strange vibrations in her leg hairs and in every strand of her web, tickling and tempting her to come closer to the twolegs and their fourleg friends.
Slinking through the reeds and grasses with utter stealth and complete familiarity with her territory, she crept to the edge of the camp. With a silent leap, she attacked, sinking her fangs into the buzzing fluttering food. With relish she dragged her plump, juicy victim back to her lair. Lucky, lucky… This skeeter had a belly full of twoleg blood, her favorite.
Back at her lair, she tore off the wings and head, bundling them in a lacy cocoon of silk with a soft prayer.
“Let these humble offerings land in your web with my thanks, praise and honor to She Who Spins In The Void, Thirp’s will be done.”
She laid the offering bundle on her simple altar and watched, while it slowly faded from the world. With that done, she turned to her meal. That twoleg blood was going to make a strong brood, when her egg sack was ready, blessings on Thirp and on the poor Deathshadow, who was her servitor.
She would give an offering to Deathshadow if it ever passed this way again. Most twolegs would have slain her, should they have found her floating in that strange pool. Rather than eating her, the strange being fished her from the hot swirling water and set her in a bush to recover in peace.
Lady Thirp had come to her that night, whispering secrets and bringing her the light of reason. Yes, she owed Deathshadow a debt, she and all her numberless children, soon to be hatched.
#
“Damn skeeters!” Alex nearly jumped out of his leathers when the giant bug took off, carrying a good three ounces of his blood with it. He watched with sublime joy, as a jumping spider took a wild leap, snagged the offending vermin and dragged it away. “Good bug…” He muttered gratefully. “I’d swear it winked at me…”
#
Waking up in the other place felt good, but different. Very different, more solid, less dreamlike. He took a good stretch and rolled out of bed, everything felt real and more permanent, even himself. He patted down his dream body and got all the right answers. Once he established everything was in place, he headed downstairs to check in with his friends.
“Wait what?” Gary asked, in a perfectly reasonable way. Thirp just bobbed on her knees and scuttled in a circle happily.
“So, somehow, we created a race of intelligent fae jumping spiders out there in the bogs?” For some reason he was not taking it well.
“That is correct. You fished several of them out of the pools over the last few days, a few have become more than simple beasts. I have the honor of being their patron deity.” Thirp strummed her harp with sublime pleasure. “I am now a part of your world’s pantheon, as much as my own… How exciting!”
“That’s cool, Thirp… So why is Ducky laughing at me like that?” He demanded with a suspicious look on his face.
Thirp was pleased with her ability to read his strange expressions, primates were usually so inscrutable. Without mandibles, only two eyes and four limbs, it took practice and care to decipher their moods.
She strummed her voice into a cheerful chord and gave him the wonderful news. “You are a part of my new cult’s lore and scriptures! Isn’t that fun?”
“Tell him the good part.” Marduk whispered excitedly. “He needs to hear the good part.” The devious little giggle that shook the godlings golden ringlets did not inspire confidence in the poor boy.
“Oh, we should wait until bedtime, everyone should hear it at once! Such joyous news!” Thirp sang, skittering up the wall and hanging from the ceiling in utter ecstasy.
#
“Gods, they are everywhere!” Herlick said with mild distress. The local spiders were acting weird. All around the house they were moving in groups. Six or seven at a time, skittering and leaping about in coordinated attacks.
They wrought terrible carnage on the skeeters fluttering and buzzing around the wards. Their behavior got stranger while the group watched.
A particularly large tarantula was collecting trailing threads from the smaller jumpers’ and wolf spiders’ spinnerets. With a flick of its mighty legs, the smaller spiders would fly through the air, trailing lines of sticky thread behind them.
Strings of weakly struggling skeeters were thrashing on the ground awaiting collection all around. Larger, shiny bodied crawlers were dragging the lines off among the grasses and reeds, then reappearing for more.
“That’s freaky. I think I know who to ask about it though.” Becky’s throat was dry, watching the super well organized arachnid brigade, carrying out wholesale insect murder. Over by the treeline one spider stood alone on a boulder, waving its limbs as though directing traffic. A big, brown jumping spider with dark lightning bolt markings. Markings very like those of a certain spider she knew well.
“Come on kids, bedtime.”
#