Ch: 159 Moondance
Too amped up to sleep, and too restless to wait for morning, dawn found the little family in the garden, practicing Luna’s spear dance. Even the little ones, using bamboo staves to mimic their elders in the slow, flowing motions. Liam swayed along, unfamiliar with the form, but a skilled spearman in his own right.
“Old Mikkel is as fine an instructor in arms as you could wish…” Luna called across the lawn to Liam, while he extracted himself from the shrubbery. “He is not a spearman at heart though. I shall finish your education in the spear, I think…”
He spat out a camellia leaf with a grin and came back for another try; sweeping the butt of his practice spear at her feet, before bringing the head lashing around at her blind side hip.
He struck nothing, since the lithe veteran was already inside his weapon’s guard, tickling the underside of his chin with the padded point of her weapon.
“If I’m honest, you might have got me there, if you weren’t dancing to these clowns’ tune.” The one eyed veteran said with a smile as they disengaged.
Gary and Shai were sparring with practice weapons, under Khan’s guidance. That guidance came in the form of constant instruction and corrections for Gary. Khan would call a halt, adjust Gary’s stance or positioning, nudge him into the correct balance and bark at them to resume.
After diligent practice since his arrival, hard work, physical conditioning and even a few actual combat encounters, Gary was able to fend off Shai’s attacks without embarrassing himself for nearly six seconds at a stretch.
“That dance trick of yours is potent against monsters and stupid opponents.” Khan gloated, while Gary picked up his spear. “Any skilled warrior will predict your moves and anticipate you in short order. Having you two spar together solves that problem nicely.”
Their mingled and opposing gifts formed a tangled magical soup, rendering both unable to control the battle with musical tricks. Skill and experience was the measure of their battle, Gary came up woefully short in both areas. The two lovers couldn't confound or influence each other, but the rest of the garden troop was strangely synchronized and danced lightly around as though at a fair.
The three noble ladies sat on garden benches savoring coffee and fresh rolls from Ivy’s oven, watching the Adventurers train.
“I had no idea it was so involved…” Lakshmi whispered over her mug. “It’s fascinating to watch… even the little ones though?”
“The little ones will find themselves at auction before too many turnings of the season… I want my little brothers and sisters ready for what may come, or what they may be forced into.” Ivy said quietly, as she served warm biscuits and set out a pitcher of groundworm sausage gravy.
She loaded the garden table with her burdens and pulled out a seat, joining the noblewomen with a slightly challenging smile.
“I was fortunate… as orphans go. I came to the orphanage with two contracts. I had Joy, and the god of Beasts, bound to me freely and by my choice… do you understand the difference?”
Their blank, shocked looks at her breach of long held taboos against such talk, was enough of an answer.
“Joy accepted my Contract to keep me alive and regulate my heart… Beast touched my soul and I had to answer… I was fortunate that my parents allowed me to form that bond.” Her gaze hardened, when she paused.
“Otherwise, on my day of indenture I would get the usual three from Order and three from War. Without regard for my own Will, or my affinity for those gods… or lack of affinity.”
“Really, Ivy, this kind of talk is…” The countess fell into a stunned silence when Ivy scoffed harshly at her.
“Now I have the god Knowledge and the spirit of Earth Contracted to my soul, where they belong. Light and Wind are negotiating for my last Contract, I haven’t decided yet.”
The small, cute, blonde teenager pinned the three visitors in their seats with a cool, challenging stare.
“That is what we are bargaining for. First, we want to be able to Contract where we will. Without the freedom of our souls… what matters physical bondage?” She raked that icy blue gaze over them slowly.
“Don’t you see how foolish it is? How wasteful? I am a journeyman mage… if War had his way I would be just another orphan shoved in front of a monster, holding a spear.” Her glacial stare kept the women frozen in place, in shock if nothing else.
“None of us should be ‘just another orphan with a spear’, they are my brothers and sisters.”
“Without Order’s discipline and War’s martial and combative gifts, how would we ever hold back the tide that threatens to sweep mankind away?” Emma demanded, stiffening in her seat and meeting Ivy’s gaze.
“I am untouched by War or Order… Only Liam can face me at arms. Shai had no Contract at all when she took third prize at swords in the uplands, last feast of War. Of our band, only Liam is bound to War. Our results speak for themselves.”
Her frigid posture melted away as the little ones came toddling over, once more bumbling about like the babes they appeared to be.
“Rio, Amy… Remember, Gary and Shai’s foolishness is no substitute for practice, just like with your instruments.” She told the smiling, giggling waifs. “You were all doing really well. My Little Adventurers!”
With tender care and gentle attention, Ivy got each one seated, while their elders washed up and joined the breakfast in the garden.
#
Tallum and Gary were in the workshop, carefully assembling the parts of a belt driven drill press for Harlan’s shop.
The big man’s practical and careful mind had answered the problem of replicating Gary’s strange, advanced machines, without having to spend months and piles of coin enchanting and building motors. They built one motor, in a compact housing that could be easily mounted to any belt driven machine, moving from one toolset or station to another as the giant worked.
The same kind of bronze ear cuff in use in the chocolaterie would provide steady, slow power to the device.
“We should build a sewing machine for the orphanage… and some woodworking tools.” The giant mumbled thoughtfully.
“Aren’t you worried Theo will come sniffing around? That guy has a massive Craftboner for this kind of stuff.” Gary chuckled at his own witty banter.
“Craftboner? That’s pretty disrespectful…” The giant smith complained gently.
“Ok, he gets theologically erect? A toolchubby? Let me know if one of these works for you…” Gary’s wide, stupid grin didn’t slow his work, or disturb his slow, sneaky gifts.
His scribe and files kept softly scratching the rhythm his songbird friends in the garden were improvising on.
“Theo transferred to the temple of Crafts in Port Clement a week ago. He’s probably just getting settled in now.” Tallum murmured happily. “Papa is head priest of craft in Wheatford.” He said proudly. “It’s an interim posting, until he gets confirmed by the full Craftmoot.”
Gary’s smile was wide and happy, filled with simple pleasure. “I’m gonna fuck with him anyway…’Cause he sucks.”
“That’s fair.” The big smith answered calmly.
#
Becky strolled the temple ward with Levin and the three little ones, watched over by Khan, in the ‘sacred precincts’ set aside for the cult of Secret, held by tradition since the founding of the town. It was a small park, barely twenty yards on a side in the very center, where the courts of War, Order, Joy and Healer met the main avenue.
The shrine there had been removed in the night by Gary weeks ago, leaving only a wooden post with a small sign reading ‘Under New Ownership’. It hadn’t been much of a shrine anyway; just a white marble obelisk four feet tall on a waist high, dark granite plinth.
They were stashed in his house, tucked away ‘between reality’s buttcheeks’ in the nowhere spaces between his soul and the physical world, safe until he was ready to place them again...
“This is way too small, unless we build a tower… even then…” She grumbled unhappily. “We will have to find a site outside the walls… we should do something with this though.” Her smile widened happily. “Perhaps a rotating selection of Mikkel’s sculptures…”
“Becky… you sounded a lot like Gary just now.” Levin said softly. “That feels weird, in a bunch of ways.”
The cruel girl just mocked him as she danced around the pleasant little park, while the children played a simple tune and Wilford sang quietly in his grown ass man voice.
Be-bop-aloo-la, she’s my baby…
#
Becky’s jaunt to the former shrine got Gary mulling it over. It felt a little weird to shove a civic monument into his interdimensional broom cupboard… He did enjoy the mild super villainousness of it.
“I could make the house look like a small volcano lair… maybe SpiderSkull Island?” He mumbled, while looking over his pilfered architectural elements.
Plinth Of Dark Secrets, Holy Altar, object of veneration. Ritual Object, Consecrated to a deity that no longer exists.
Shrine Of Hidden Truths, Sacred Obelisk, object of veneration. Consecrated to a deity that no longer exists.
They were kinda weird and too big to really do much with… When Gary had asked Marduk about them, the tiny god refused to reply beyond a smug smile. Gods do smug really well.
Thirp was no help either. “My people’s sacred objects are all textiles… as you can imagine, most of our works and crafts are silk based. Though your naughty undies are a wholly new innovation, as we do not wear clothes…”
She carried on lecturing for a while and Gary gleaned a few new insights into textile crafts from her enthusiastic chatter.
#
Most of Gary was in a state of light meditation as his body performed its tasks by rote memory. He’d assembled, disassembled, cleaned, maintained and repaired these machines since he was old enough to start his training under grandpa… Making magic motor powered versions of them was easier than he had suspected.
Tallum’s skills did most of the heavy lifting. Once the parts were machined and ready, Gary was assembling them with a smile on his face and a dollop of sticky machine grease on his nose.
Unauthorized usage: this tale is on Amazon without the author's consent. Report any sightings.
He’d mostly emptied his inventory gift, pulling out a quantity of household goods and supplies that startled even himself. He needed all that space to schlep the machines to Harlan’s forge.
The house could hold almost anything, but his Pockets! had limitations that he was bumping into. He felt almost uncomfortably full when the entire complement of tools were loaded in his magic booty.
It was pretty uncomfortable, so he started digging around and pulling more objects out from his very edges. He hung Liam’s guitar up, though he didn’t remember holding on to it… then came some unfamiliar pieces of tea service and half of a cucumber and watercress sandwich.
Frustrated and cranky, he started tugging out more random stuff… one of the mundane swords he’d helped create for Liam, an unfamiliar chair, and finally, an entire outfit of Liam’s clothes, even his shoes and underthings. More unusual, they felt… warm.
#
Tea in the garden with the ladies of the court was a pleasant, if slightly nerve wracking experience. Most of the nobles were escorted by a guardian, mostly young female indentured warriors, along with a scattering of old veterans… that left Liam as one of the few young men in attendance.
He was also pretty certain Tawny had those sketches of his butt nearby from the furtive huddles and giggling.
Duchess Sheng, at least had the good manners to ignore their childish antics. He was seated, in a suitably lowered position and far enough away for form’s sake, with the Duchess, Tawny and a number of the ladies. A spirited game of lawn bowls distracted most of the garden party.
Tawny was holding forth, answering questions about her adventures in the field with ‘actual Adventurers’. Her firm reminders that she was an actual Adventurer, failed to stick.
Liam was enjoying her discomfort just a little, not as much as he was enjoying those little tea sandwiches. He raised a delicate china cup, filled with a very nice brew, enjoying one of life’s little perfect moments.
“Now, now Tawny, It’s not like you wield a spear…” Emma giggled. His beautiful, golden princess flushed the color of a new minted bronze bit and opened her mouth to unleash a little bit sharp tone, when his teacup vanished from his hand in a darkling cloud of spicy scented mist.
That was when he realized his sandwich was gone as well… By the time that realization fully hit him, his chair vanished and he was sitting nude on the lawn.
As the giggles and scandalized whispers rose, he felt the sun warming his body in some very intimate ways.
“Gary…” He whispered to himself, as he rose, bowed to the gathered company and left, boldly walking erect… er… Standing tall.
Throughout his long, naked walk into the palace and all the way to his small chamber, he could still hear them chattering excitedly and calling for wine to celebrate. “I’ll murder him, just a little. Not so much that it sticks…”
#
Gary felt a lot better after unloading all those tools, but it felt weird walking around with nothing tucked away... Even knowing that his home was safe and secure less than a half mile away, just across the river, it sent him into a moody place as they completed a few errands.
He gave Chen and his apprentices a tenth of the estimate for his order, to get them started. That had to come with a promise to come down to the ward and shake their groove things for them. Even so he was going to be broke, when it came time to lay down the money on wheels for more of his custom Adventure Wagons.
A real wheelwright was the right choice, subbing that out would shave a week off his timeline. That was worth it, the team had convinced him to try and get the nobles on board, rather than going at them hard… That was a bitter pill, but it made sense.
He’d bristled and griped at first, when Shai and Jaspreet started moving noble ladies in… now the house was almost filled with them and it wasn’t too bad. Most of them, once they got settled in, became fine guests.
Dowager baroness Julia Fernlowe was a treat. Emma’s aunt was the current baron’s mother, now retired and living her retirement in pleasant obscurity, save for delicious functions like these. She survived on a stipend from the barony and her own trade holdings, including one of the Adventure bands Emma managed so ably.
Gary, she never even noticed, strolling past him on the shop floor in a flurry of skirts. He started mentally re-stocking his Pockets!. Taking the time to think about utility and practicality, rather than carrying everything, all the time made him feel like he’d grown as a person.
He hadn’t grown enough to ignore the fact that these people owned people and could someday own him and his kids. Julia was a deeply kind woman, Emma seemed to really care about her people. Both carried on happily, without realizing how appalling the situation was.
Lakshmi was completely oblivious, trusting her two remaining Adventure bands to her teenage brother’s management…
Which suggested a reason why she’d lost a six man band and their support team of two that summer.
“I wonder if this is cultivation too…” He murmured to himself, shaking off his dark mood with effort. Nobles kept trickling in, filling the town to bursting, he was going to get a lot more practice.
“Is it bad I’m hoping for another ground dragon?” He asked Shai as they set easels and displays in the garden. “Anything to get out of town and these people out of my house… It’s killing me that I like our slaveholder friends.”
“Ye must master yerself, hate the game, nae the players. Becky will give the presentation, she hae this well in hand. We should meditate an find our center, thee an me. Luna’s spear dance in yer back woods will do fine...
The Bathers vanished into the private spaces of the house, as servants from the palace flooded his garden. Gary, Shai and the kids fled to the far side of their home, in the orchard, near his tangled woodlot.
They pitched a big tent, conjured from nowhere at all with a brief effort from Shai, while Gary summoned bedding. Backyard camping was just too easy… they were toasting marshmallows and snacking in a few minutes.
Shai directed their exercises until naptime, when Luna arrived to put the duo through their paces while the kids slept.
A few positions in Gary stopped in mild confusion. “Babe, where are your bells?” He asked, feeling lost without her ever present accompaniment.
“I dinnae wear them fer this, it do make it easier tae keep me gift restrained…”
“I think we can relax that rule… for tonight. I’d like to see where you two go with this, since it’s just us. Use your musical baton, boy. I want a good look at what you kids get up to.”
“Can I call in some friends for help? The guys have been really good about not haunting anywhere that normies can see.” He asked Shai, a hopeful look in his eyes.
“Aye, they hae been very good, none of me guests hae been spooked. I’ll allow it.”
#
“...What you propose is too drastic. I won’t surrender my tried and true methods for nonsense promises and fairytales!” Baron Holloman grumbled.
“Brother, let me remind you, the responsibility for the orphanage is mine… as is this decision.” Duke Holloman turned to Becky with a smile that was too smooth to be entirely honest.
“I’d hoped to meet all of my benefactors tonight…” He schmoozed, while scritching Annie’s chin. “Not just the two most charming.”
“The others are practicing their arts or tending to other matters, your grace.” The duke’s eyes kept roving the garden, looking for the others.
Unfortunately for him, Becky and Annie were hosting the garden party and art showing; the others instructed to remain firmly out of sight.
Liam had been strangely eager to go into isolation in his room. “They’ve seen enough of me today.” He answered when Becky inquired.
Jaspreet and the ladies delivered the clever remarks and trenchant artistic observations they had spent the last day cooking up and rehearsing with Dannyl, just to vex and amuse the other lords and ladies.
Mubarak was quietly furious that he was not going to meet the mysterious ‘ladyboy wizard’ tonight. When Jaspreet was not looking, anyway.
Becky and the Belens kept things under control, mostly. Annie’s massive, warm, gentle presence was everywhere in the garden, radiating a mellow and peaceful vibe.
“Only one of the images depicts him in femboi attire, your grace. Perhaps he is simply an iconoclast or occasional transvestite…” Baron Hreth mumbled, disconsolately.
Lady Emma took that opportunity to unload a few pithy remarks and observations to her second cousin Jainee Luknow, lady of Port Tempest, on the distant shore.
“The subject’s feminine attire is a metaphor illustrating his conflicted and troubled nature, while his inversion in the boughs of a tree suggests a person who sees things from a new perspective…” She lectured her elder cousin with pedantic zeal… loudly enough to be clearly overheard by the higher ranks.
That worthy dame nodded sagely, adding her own analysis of the work. “Note he does not show fear at his predicament, but rather deep and amusing embarrassment, as he attempts to conceal his cute little panties… the bow is just darling…”
“You simply must meet with Jennah, a local seamstress of our recent acquaintance… her latest creations…” Emma’s chatter dropped to a volume more appropriate for whispered secrets, as she strolled closer to the artwork. Giggling and whispered gasps of delight came from the older woman and the small cluster of girls that had gathered around the easel.
“The cut and colors…”
“...they would produce no unsightly outlines, even in clinging silks…”
“...In this town? Silks and lace?”
Something was stirring the ladies up, Abed watched with some interest, until he realized they were just talking about the cut of the fellows’ strange undergarments; cheeky, brief and strangely compelling… he found himself wondering as well.
“Jaspreet would never wear something so scandalous…” he whispered to himself, as a frisson of naughty delight shivered through him at that thought.
Such thin and clingy fabric would outline and highlight the pert roundness of those sweet, dusky curves… cut so high at the leg and so low at the waist, a garment like that would barely conceal…
Finally he understood the concept he had read of so often… as this vista unfurled in his mind he caught sight of his bride to be, chatting among the happy throng of giggling girls.
He heard the name ‘Jennah’ a number of times, no doubt some local fashion maven.
Dannyl’s latest work hung at the end, near the wine bar and buffet. Appropriate, since it depicted the same bland, unrecognizable, even featured man, serving drinks to an army of colorful cartoon undead. The background seemed to be a tropical island night, lit by brilliantly colored fireworks bursting in the starry sky.
He stood behind a bar of bamboo, lashed together with palm fronds, wearing a wide hat that shaded his face just a little too much and a shirt bearing many bright pink, tiny flamingos.
Each thirsty corpse was lovingly depicted, as were the bright colored bottles behind the bar, depicted in vibrant and jewellike hues. Down the bar from the harried looking bartender, a pickled dead man in a glass jar, floated over a small mound of coins, tips from the dead drunks perhaps… the bottled cadaver held a short wand, whose tip was engulfed in a shimmering corona of sparkles.
Midnight At The Oasis: Nightsoil Terrors five. The title card read.
“This is disturbing.” Julius muttered over the work.
“Yes, the reality of the situation is much darker than this suggests, as is Dannyl’s way... Our friend suggests that more of those things might be out there somewhere… such a strange phenomenon.” Becky remarked idly.
“We are working on the problem, your grace, even now. Come for a visit tomorrow, they will be happy to see you again.”
“That would be marvelous… I haven’t seen anything of the town or domain yet. I should dearly like to go riding.” Julius sighed, looking out over the valley, as sunset started gathering its forces over the eastern hills.
“Do I hear… music?” He asked, looking over to the shady orchard nearby.
“Gary and Shai are about to finally come into iron rank fully, they are working towards that end tonight.” She whispered.
“We can go observe their workout if you wish… things are winding down here.”
“An exhibition of martial skill… how splendid!” Grace Sheng announced happily. “Let’s all go watch!” She waved her wine glass happily, spilling a few crimson droplets onto her ivory silk gloves.
“Come Cameron, an entertainment is afoot!” She sang out to her escort, a tall, swarthy man with scars at his throat and a simple steel shortsword at his hip. Like the lady he was dressed in ivory silk, but his crisp uniform held little more in common than color with his mistress’ garments.
She was an elegant column of ivory white silk beaded with seed pearls and subtle accents of gold. Long gloves sheather her to the elbow, while her gown drifted in clouds and folds that seemed careless at first glance, but only at first glance.
Every fold and pleat was calculated with care and precision, hugging here and drifting there. The duchess was a woman firmly in middle age and comfortable with that fact, it made her beauty all the more striking.
Her silly, tipsy speech was just as calculated, as were the droplets staining her gloves. In the Great Game, one’s opponent should never be underestimated. Jaspreet reflected on this fact, as her garden party moved en masse, into the darkening orchard.
The bride found Becky’s sweet face in the crowd, she seemed to be lost in concentration, focusing on some matter of import as they marched under the trees. The strange procession stumbled along, in a happy, only semi sober mob of silks, gold and jewels.
Becky sighed as she followed the duchess and her coterie, frantically creating a collection of chairs and amenities as they walked.
Under the trees, the music became audible to all the partygoers, not just those who had cultivated their senses. Sweet ringing chimes sang through the trees, accompanied by and competing with, a metallic wail that in turns howled, wept and rejoiced, as the music filled the night.
Drums and stringed instruments could be heard as they neared the scene of the action.
There was a clearing and a tent filled with cushions and blankets scattered about. Among them, three small children, little more than babes, played simple instruments with astonishing skill... among the trees a few other musicians played, adding to the scene from the shadows.
A red clad, face painted man of slight build seemed to be everywhere, playing his strange guitar and exhorting the other shadowy figures to greater heights of musicianship.
Paper lanterns hung from the trees, lighting the two people, locked in combat in the cleared space. They both wore light and nonrestrictive clothing, barefoot and smiling in bliss that seemed almost intoxicated.
She wielded a pair of curved swords, wooden and split bamboo practice weapons, bound with leather. Her graceful movements sent shimmering chimes through the little forest of fruit and nut trees, from a strand of silver and bronze bells around her hips, depending from a gleaming net of intricate metalwork links and rings.
He held a strange, two headed baton, with metal rings passing through the heavy bronze heads. It also rang jingled and sang, producing some of the metallic wailing that lifted on the gentle breeze.
The two combatants danced at and against each other, as well as dancing together. Their weapons did battle, clashing and crashing in time with the music, both following and leading the dance in turns.
The pair’s bodies entwined, entangled and caressed whenever they met, trading kisses and strikes with equal intensity.
She swept his legs from under him with a backstroke of her longer weapon, as her shorter blade rattled against his staff. Even as he fell, he was moving towards her aggressively, lashing out with his left hand to swat her playfully on the rump.
A scant pair of seconds later, he rolled back to his feet with a mouthful of grass and a dirty smile of absolute pleasure. He lunged at her, leading with his baton, its wailing song rising in tempo.
Hey, babe, your hair's alright…
Hey, babe, let's stay out tonight…
You like me and I like it all!
She batted his attack aside, and dodged his follow up with simple grace and an economical pivot of those shining, singing hips.
We like dancing and we look divine,
You love bands when they're playing hard,
You want more and you want it fast!
The singer among the trees seemed to be enjoying the attention of the audience, moving among them in his shiny, skin tight leathers.
Somehow, he was the very image of the man, who was still locked in a loving battle, with the tall, graceful, redhead warrior woman.
Rebel Rebel, you've torn your dress!
Rebel Rebel, your face is a mess…
When her longer blade folded him in half at the solar plexus, the music changed, slowing as she folded him in an embrace and swayed with her man in her arms, while he learned how to breathe again.
It’s a marvelous night for a moondance,
With the stars-up-above-in-the-sky…
#