Ch: 133 Message In A Bottle
Morning came late and foggy in Mudwallow Bridge town, Gary was up and at the mill, making minute adjustments, while a crew of moderately hungover beavers and muskrats watched.
The new saw was narrower, thinner, had a slim kerf, to eat less wood… and had so many more teeth than their old rusted, battered and well used blade. The musician had taken it as well, for scrap, leaving few traces of the old mill works, beyond the structure itself.
Of the old waterwheel, no sign remained. The new one was a skeletal assembly of dark coated black metal hoops and heavily lacquered wooden paddles, spinning on a milled steel hub and bronze roller bearings. It whirred with a soft moan of rushing water, rather than the thunderous, grinding rumble of the old axel and drive shaft.
Under the shed roof of the mill building, things were just as strange. Enormous gleaming brass and steel gears rode on bronze bearings, inside a small wooden room labeled ‘Machine Closet. Danger’, in pictograms and common script.
A door with a simple, but sturdy lock could seal the dangerous workings away from sawdust and accidents, making the whole shop safer by far. That too, was nearly silent, in contrast to the old millworks, whose clattering and groaning was a constant complaint.
“Run a log through, guys, see if you want me to put your old stuff back.” The madman asked calmly, puffing on that sweet smelling pipe of his.
Harrl grabbed that old familiar lever and squeezed the safety catch, with a gentle tug, it flopped forward limply.
“Bahh, your mill is broken, boy. Feels like the linkage slipped off. I’ll go fix it from underneath…” He stopped when the boy raised one hand, palm out to halt him.
“Works fine Harrl, look.” He smiled and pointed at the silently spinning blade, riding on its new cast iron pulleys.
“Go on, try it… give the blade a coating of my special beeswax once it’s up to speed.” He pointed to a block of wax, mounted to a wooden pole, leaning nearby.
The disgruntled miller signaled his bleary eyed crew. They set down their coffee mugs and fell to work, in the old familiar pattern. A hemlock log rolled into the cradle, also reworked with iron tracks and wheels. It rolled and slid so smoothly, a few of the old timers started looking grumpy.
Once the blade bit into the dense, soft wood, everything changed. A sweet smell of warm wax and honey rose, along with the clean smell of fresh sawdust, but hardly any noise.
Boards slipped off of the log as easily as his mate peeled carrots for dinner. Smooth, straight, clean cuts with hardly any friction or vibration, they just kept happening, almost without effort.
His crew figured out the levers and pushers built into the new log carriage quickly, as skilled crafters will. Soon the lumber mill was hurling boards onto the growing pile faster than his loading team could keep up.
“I think my work is done here, we’ll be in town a couple days, let me know when my logs are cut.” The musician strolled out into the mist, still puffing that pipe.
“Come by the house if you wanna visit, bring your mates and kids, mine love to meet new playmates.”
“He still creeps me out.” Burl the logyard forebeaver grumbled.
“Stuff it mate.” Harrl snapped. “He can kiss me on the lips and take my wife dancing, if it means I get to keep this rig. Mudwallow Bridge is gonna change, boys… we aren't on the fringe anymore.”
“Does that mean we gotta start wearing pants?” Kniff giggled from over by the waste and cutoff pile. “I hear when humans start showing up, they bring pants with them.”
“Now I wish this rig was as noisy as the old one… I forgot, I work with idiots.” He grumbled with a smile.
#
Alex and the rest of Julius’ troop dragged themselves into town, looking haggard and worn at mid day of the Bathers’ second day in Mudwallow Bridge.
The horses were fit and happy, but the humans were nearly done in. they staggered past the town inn, with barely a glance, seeming intent on passing through without stopping.
Gary was lounging on the greensward, watching the kids teach the locals how to play ‘Horsie’ and picking out some relaxing improvisations on his guitar, when the bedraggled troop stomped through.
“Hey, Alex, you guys look rough. Come on in and have a rest, Julius has been wondering where you guys got off to.”
The guard captain shot his new nemesis a glare of purest hatred and loathing, good honest emotions that came from the heart.
“We have been chasing you lunatics over the moors for…” He took a deep breath and remembered what his mother always said about dealing with the moontouched.
“Where is my liege lord, young Gary?” He asked sweetly, while his insides boiled with fury.
“He’s inside, my lovely Shai is teaching him how to bake bread. There’s flour everywhere!”
The fool played some comical piece of music as they crossed the bridge into a familiar garden of madness and comforts.
“I hate peasant witches…” He grumbled softly.
#
“You are devious, wicked and truly unkind, My beloved Jaspreet. It never would have occurred to me, now I am the one pressing the attack.” He cackled wildly as he sealed the scroll with his chop and slid it into a protective tube.
“A journey is just the thing, as well as an opportunity to see firsthand how things are done there.”
“Yes, It has nothing to do with my oft expressed desire to travel abroad with you… and is completely unrelated to the sad inability of your many, many aunts and uncles to join us.” She cooed, smiling wickedly. “We can fire Sanders when we get back…”
#
“Gods and spirits, why do you vex me with this man?!” Leopold Belen rumbled like a distant thunderstorm.
The duchess retrieved the discarded scroll and read, with some pleasure. “Jaspreet and Abed come visiting and this is how you react? You lack imagination, Leopold! I must tell Gunnar the news!”
“A state visit and a state wedding, two annoyances for one price, one ruinous price.” He snarled as she skipped for the door.
“At least I know where to hire a band on the cheap.” He yelled at his fleeing wife’s back.
“If you ruin my dear friend’s wedding, or murder the groom, I will be deeply disappointed in you.” She replied sweetly. “By all means, do tell Rolf to bring those kids home, I know you can’t wait to inflict Tawny’s pet on Abed.”
“One of these days...” He mumbled to himself. “She’s going to call that boy ‘Tawny’s pet’ in front of her by accident…” No loving and caring husband should wish such a thorny problem on his wife, but fun is fun.
#
The duke was sprawled in Otho’s office, smoking some of that wicked strong herb with the old man, while complaining bitterly.
“Damn Abed! The sneaking git sent a small army of refugees over my border. Now I have an expanded territory, a mysterious mushroom forest between me and my new lands, a cult trying to summon demons at random, this mad boy and his band of troublemakers leading my daughter astray…”
“Are we still speaking of the upcoming state wedding you have been pressed into hosting?” Otho asked mildly, though his red rimmed eyes suggested little wisdom would be coming from that angle.
“If I may be overly familiar, is a part of your stress related to certain unfunded expenditures? Your ready cash has been thoroughly depleted by my young friends, has it not?” His wildly overgrown eyebrows bounced madly.
“Yes, my request for disbursement from the capital is apparently… delayed. You have a prank in mind…” The duke muttered darkly. “I know nothing, I see nothing, if my wife asks, you told me nothing.” He leaned close and whispered to the old man.
“Now, Brother Otho, orphan to orphan, what have you in mind?”
“Only this, since recent developments, the orphans of Wheatford are possessed of some surprising abilities…” He smiled with pride. “Allow the orphanage to manage your public celebrations, it will feed into certain rumors we have been fostering... I will bear the cost personally.”
“Very generous of you… why and how?” Leo demanded, fidgeting with his fake ‘stache. The smoke was loosening the glue holding it to his upper lip.
“Why? Because you are one of mine. How? A young man entrusted me with certain funds, to manage his investments. My commission from his profits should cover any celebration expenses nicely.” He replied smugly.
“Your own tax coffers would be in far better shape if you had made a ruling on that ridiculous candy suit already.”
“I can’t just rule on that idiot’s claim, I have too much personal entanglement. That mad boy is everywhere I look, isn’t he? Is that where your newfound wealth comes from? I thought better of you.” The duke grumbled. “I’ll not tolerate…”
“Hush you whelp of a duke. If you read your correspondence, you would know that the Alchemist’s and Adventure guilds have been beating down our figurative doors for weeks now.” He said smugly, puffing the pipe.
“You know what Adventure wants, he will only give them a taste, now that he knows how valuable that damn stink magic is.”
Othio sat back and reclined with the attitude of a man with a full belly. “The Alchemists’ guild however… the boy invented an ointment to kill something called ‘Toenail Fungus’...” Otho shuddered with dread.
“Some beast from where he comes from I suppose. Well, it does not live in these lands. The ointment does however, cure a certain uncomfortable and tender condition endemic to the warmer, swampier climes; both climatically, and anatomically.” Otho paused while his liege did the math on that one. It took a while.
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“Which is to say; Creeping Crotch Crud, Armor Rot, Adventurer’s Bane, The Taint Taint… need I go on?” He finished helpfully.
“An ointment that works on swamp ass?” He muttered. “When I was a field trooper I’d have paid…” He trailed off, lost in thought.
“Yes, he gave the formula to Muktar.” Otho almost purred with pleasure, as he spoke. “That good man could have feathered his nest and none would have known. Instead, he formed a fictitious company and put it in trust for the boy in secret. When it spiraled out of control, he came to me for help.”
“You are still smiling like that, there’s more.” Leo grumbled.
“Naiomi of Healer received a communique from Tawny, with samples and formulae for two concoctions, along with a supply of the components. Our kids have been busy, even on the road.”
Otho dug in his desk and pulled out a small vial of purplish-gray liquid and a scant handful of violet cubes of wax.
“First we have a potent alchemical anesthetic. It temporarily deadens all pain and sensation in the local area when injected. Highly valuable as I’m sure you can imagine.” He tapped the bottle with a boney finger. “Every healer and physician is clamoring for it.”
“These…” He held up one of the wax cubes. “I won’t demonstrate them, since supplies are currently very limited, while we work on production. Let’s just say that field dressings and first aid have never been so easy and quick.”
“These are Tawny’s innovations?” He asked, smiling with pride.
“I suspect the boy and my Liam had much to do with them as well. They are registered as property of that same fictitious entity; the Ginger Dreadnought company.” Otho puffed languidly and passed the pipe back over with a smile.
“Muktar signed some very lucrative agreements… Now a number of my more alchemically inclined orphans are apprenticed with the guild.”
It was hard to tell which pleased him more, getting his orphans those coveted apprenticeships with an established advanced craft hall, or the supposed mounds of coin he was drowning in.
“Just how well can they be doing, we don’t have a strong Alchemist’s hall. It’s just Muktar, a couple journeymen and a handful of advanced apprentices.” Leo puffed the pipe in agitation, sending a huge cloud up, to linger around his head.
“Well enough that I had to send to Port Sunderland to do the banking, my agent just returned on trade boat Esperanza.” Otho reached back into his desk and pulled out a slender silver rod. He placed it on the desk and smiled knowingly.
“Why do you have a trade wand, Otho? I thought mine was the only one in Wheatford.” He picked it up, perplexed and mildly upset. He read the inscription on the handle. ‘Ginger Dreadnaught co.’
“Gods… what have you two fools done?” He demanded, with a terrified laugh.
“Muktar came to me with a dilemma. He needed funds to expand and increase production, but these funds were the boy’s. Yet, it would profit the lad immensely, to so invest his wealth… As Gary’s guardian, I took it upon myself to manage his affairs, freeing Muktar from any hint of impropriety.”
“I knew paying those worm contracts in silver was going to bite me in the ass… I had to play the wealthy lord…” Leo fumed and grumbled around the stem of an empty pipe.
“Fear not, that coin has already been largely spent. It is no doubt working its way back to you, as such things tend to, my lord.” Otho smiled pleasantly as he refilled the pipe.
“Every printer, papermill and bookbinder in my lord’s domain has been contracted for a run of books. Similarly, the local traders, on both land and water, have been contracted for distribution. Additional paper and supplies needed to be ordered in bulk from all over the twelve duchies… it’s quite the costly undertaking!”
“Books? Distribution? I thought they were starting a candy guild, or was it alchemy…?” The flustered, confused and stoned nobleman was sinking fast.
“The cult of Secrets, the Temple Of Man’s Knowledge, the Orphan’s League and a collective of fae entities have banded together, to embark on an ambitious project, my lord. The boy calls it a ‘Non Profit’, a business aimed at a goal, rather than a simple profit motive.” He shrugged helplessly.
“My own personal enrichment is but a happy accident, my lord. The contracts stipulate a one percent commission on all realized profits to the funds administrator. Hence my current embarrassment of riches.”
“I think I’m going to be sick.” Leo muttered.
#
Alex and the rest of Jules’ warband spent the afternoon recovering from their forced march. Gary had a lot of horses to groom suddenly.
Both Annie and Luna had come to the conclusion that a well plied curry brush was the key to finally breaking him fully into iron rank. Or so they insisted. Shai refused to weigh in, since she was enjoying the quiet.
When Gary finally finished and started clearing away his ferrier’s tools, Luna bustled in smiling unpleasantly.
“Are you done playing ‘Pretty Pretty Ponies’ now, boy?” She demanded, as though she had not assigned this ‘cultivation task’ herself, just an hour ago.
“If so I have some real work for you, a bog wraith. It’s right up your alley, a single mindless undead haunt. It guards where the body fell, warding off any who approach. Such entities are only troublesome because their wail is terrifying to all living things. Usually, when one ‘appears’ the area is avoided, until the thing dissipates naturally.”
“Is this a job, or personal?” He asked with a tired grin. “Either way, I’m taking a bath and a nap before any ghost busting, no matter how easy.”
“Both, lad… it’s personal business. The corpse washed into a mangrove between here and Port Clement; its throat was cut three times, ritual sacrifice.” Luna smiled, as he turned about and headed back her way, with a grimly eager look in his face..
“Relax, lad, we head out tomorrow, I just wanted to see if you were still up for it, after the last few days. I like the intensity.”
#
Duke Belen needed coin, that meant he had to face the most perilous foe of his long career battling the forces of chaos and the unknown: paperwork.
He read, signed, stamped and sealed until he thought the walls were closing in. When he dipped his pen in a glass of water and sipped from his inkwell, it was time for a break. “You win today…” He snarled at his overflowing desk.
At least his coffers should see some relief… once the final chop on the corporate charter landed, the ducal assessment on all that ‘Ginger Dreadnought co.’ activity would hit his books. He could almost feel the life giving coins flowing through his ledgers again.
Now if only he could get that candy trade started up…
The ducal ‘stache was getting a workout these days, Leopold pasted the thing back on with a grimace. A few brisk and upper lip sweaty minutes later, he was in Amicus’ office at the college.
“...the appearance of impropriety or favoritism could taint their reputation, as well as mine. The fool who brought the suit should suffer the embarrassment, whom should I refer this case to? Julius is out, Holloman is my vassal…”
“Forgive me my lord… is not Abed Mubabrak visiting soon? He has no tie to any party in this case and is widely regarded as a clever eccentric.” Amicus cut to the heart of the matter cleanly, laying it to the bone.
“And the other matter? How many lords will come to such a spectacle? How many might be… exposed to our new friend’s radical ideas and thoughts? Should we allow such a thing?” Leo muttered softly.
Amicus smiled, as only the truly old can. “This fringe business must have them shaken… this is an opportunity, and a terrible risk. Dare we risk missing such an opportunity?” He rummaged in his desk for a moment, there was a theme for the day, apparently.
“I had a letter from Phillip Rummel, the man railed against Gary and our team as upsetting and uncouth, for half a page. The rest of page one becomes… very unlike my former student, almost cheerful.” He handed over the multi page document, carefully and rigidly folded into a perfect rectangle and crisply sealed with bright orange wax.
“Dancing goats by moonlight? I think we can solve that mystery without further investigation.” The duke mumbled happily. “I should send that boy on a tour of all my neighbors, an extended tour.”
The rest of the multi page document was requests for the Wheatford orphanage curriculum and training regimen. “I forwarded copies of those to Otho.” Amicus smiled with pride over that tidbit. “Our orphanage reforms are making quite the splash.”
“I heard something about books as well…” The duke began, carefully.
“That is a matter on which I dare not speak, I'm negotiating to join the Temple Of Man’s Knowledge, can’t risk that.” He shrugged apologetically and smiled at his former student. “One need not be a scholar to see the value in books, but it does not hurt...”
#
The next morning was rainy, gray and wet, so very wet; even the marshes and bogs seemed unusually soggy. Seahorse appeared in the beaverpond, tied to the pier and waiting. She had a full wooden superstructure in place, with benches, blankets and cushions scattered about.
Gary’s well worn travel samovar puffed steam and warmth into the little boat, from its secure mount amidships.
They set sail at second bell, with Khan and Luna riding lead on the herd of horses. Julius needed to head back to port Clement, now that he was certain his citizens weren’t being eaten by anything unnatural.
The small troop took a while to find their way through the canals and swamps, onto a wide, slow river. Their small herd followed on towpaths that would be busy with traders come full spring.
The cheerful boat floated placidly along in the rain and mist, smoke puffing from the chimney and lights twinkling all around. Music floated across the mires and swamps, drawing a cheerful chorus from the small life all around.
Gary had his hand on the tiller and a spicy, sweet herbal mixture in his pipe, softly smoldering between his teeth.
“It’s unnerving, knowing that we are following an incorporeal bat through the dark.” Tawny whispered.
“Xyll is much more than a simple bat… her people are sentient, but in ways we find difficult to understand.” Axio piped excitedly. “I believe her people to be a unique evolution in our understanding of life and death.”
“Not in front of the kids buddy. Xyll is my friend and helps us because she likes us, like the rest of the family. Some of us are just different, that’s all.” He passed his tea cup to the little fungus creature with a smile.
“Mallow, blackberry petals and orange blossoms, cured in roasted green tea leaves, sweetened with orange blossom honey… Liam is a wild man.”
#
The rain let up after mid day, with the sun finally breaking through for early afternoon. All of Seahorse’s windows opened up and Gary popped the pilot’s hatch for a view over the flat roof.
The river was so wide, there was a stretch of road on each side. There seemed to be few ways to make a crossing, beyond fishing boats and small craft like their own, though most houses sported a pier of some kind.
The village of Widewater and Oysterflats straddled the river, with so much traffic and commerce between the two small towns, a bridge seemed superfluous.
Boats of every size scurried about, from canoes with a single occupant, to barges as big enough to carry a good sized flock of sheep. Those weren’t sheep though.
“Liam, what are those?” Gary asked, pointing to a large group of cow sized animals with long white fur, meandering by the waterside.
“Woolcrabs… common livestock around here, they graze the waterside all around the narrow sea. You never heard the old saying: ‘Harder than getting wool from a crab.’ before? They really hate getting sheared, or so I hear.”
Gary tucked the tiller under his arm and cracked open his trusty old field guide. “No listing in here…” He grumbled quietly.
“They are livestock, are sheep and chickens listed in there? They eat detritus, algae and seaweed, when they molt their shells, the herdsman collects and shears them. The shells, that is. Only a fool would try to shear the crab, hence the saying.” Liam didn’t like the look in Gary’s eye.
“No, you can’t eat them, their flesh is toxic to all mammals and most reptiles. That is why woolcrabs are valuable livestock. Even most monsters don’t go back for a second bite.”
“Cool… How’s the wool?” He asked breathlessly.
Ivy took over the lecture, when Liam shrugged helplessly. “Absolutely terrible. It’s used as a fiber filling in cheap furniture and bedding and as home insulation. The shells are boiled down to make a very valuable boat varnish and certain exotic glues.”
“Glues, you say…” Gary sat up a little straighter, smiling brightly.
“Relax, you can play with dead trees and sticky, stinky goo after the job is done.” Becky shoved a fresh cup of tea into his free hand and a scone into his mouth, that shut him up for a while.
#
They motored into the strange dual village, wending a careful way among the smaller craft. At Khan’s signal, they tied up at a pier and clambered out onto the sun warmed deck.
Luna came trotting over, leaving the herd with Annie. “Khan is meeting with the village elder and local law enforcement. We will probably camp here tonight. Shai, Liam, Ride out and find us a place to camp.”
Shai gave a triumphant whoop and vaulted onto Winslow, bareback, waving to Liam in frustration. “Bestir yerself, I would get a god run in lad!”
Liam seemed far less eager to trade a boat bench for a saddle, bareback was not happening. “Shai, I have a guitar.” He said softly, while fishing Tater’s saddle and tack out of her man.
Poor sleepy Gary was drifting in and out, lying on the greensward in the sun with Becky and the kids. Dannyl and the giant smith went into the village market, searching for something tasty and entertaining.
They came back with a small barrow full of those hideous giant leeches, though these were neatly butchered and ready to cook.
Becky stopped the two cold, jerking her thumb at her passed out brother, buried under the little ones.
“Nuhh uhh. Only Shai and Liam can load stuff into him while he’s sleeping, I’m not waking the kids up for you clowns. Go ask Ivy for a preservation spell, before that stuff starts to go bad.”
“We got these on a discount… they even said we can keep the wheelbarrow!” Tallum seemed inordinately pleased with himself.
“Good, then you can wheel it over to Ivy and ask her to enspell it for you. Naptime is a sacred time.” She shooed them away with a ferocious glare, before resuming her place as guardian of the pile of Wards.
“Sup Becky?” The sleepy goof asked, popping one eye open.
“The boys bought a peeled leech… looks like they bought a bunch of them.” She said softly.
“Is that a saying? Cause it sounds like you mean that literally.” He slurred softly as he drifted off.
“Yeah, sleep bro, you can laugh at them later, they will still be stupid when you wake.” She whispered softly, while Ivy scolded them over by the boat.
#
“So they gave you a discount for buying bone-in leeches…” Ivy said, suppressing a sigh.
“Yeah, it was a really good deal. I’m surprised nobody else wanted to jump on it… wait, do leeches have bones?” Tallum got there first, turning bright red and spinning around to head back to the market in a fury. Dannyl took a little longer.
“Never mind… I bet Gary eats swamp python too. The guys you bought this from are long gone, nice barrow though.” She sighed and started drawing on a sheet of waxed paper.
“I’m not using any expensive reagents on this job, I hope that stuff was pretty fresh when you bought it.”
#
Khan rejoined the small group at the boat looking upset and confused. “This just got weirder. Our bog wraith has been reported floating around these waterways for more than two years. Those who have gotten close enough to see it report it’s in a…”
Khan held up a set of highly dubious quote fingers and wiggled them lamely.
“...this is what they say, ‘a big glass jar’.”
“Weird. Does sound like something made for us though.” Dannyl muttered, shooting a look at the sleepers on the grass.
“Who bought a bunch of swamp python? Even Gary won’t eat that stuff…” The mustachioed veteran asked, peering into the wheelbarrow.
#