Ch: 164 Takin’ Care of Business
Leroy walked with Orlando, down to the orphanage to bunk in with duchess Sheng’s troop, doing his best to cheer the lad up. “Don’t let gossip and foolish talk color your perceptions, you will be in her service until your indenture ends. She never sells, only buys. From what I have been told by reliable people, she is a very skilled leader, and knows when to listen to her people.” He clapped the bigger man on the shoulder, wearing a grin that almost reached his eyes.
“I’ll find out for myself soon. It’s humiliating, being bought by the Toy Collector.” He murmured. “Baron Holloman is at least a conventional lord.”
“A conventional lord with a below average rating in the Oddsmen’s lists. Sheng is in the top four, every year, across the lists: casualty rates, success rates, everything. More of her retired indentures remain in her service than any other lord or lady, save the Belens.” Leroy said softly.
“I know you will do well in her service, brother.”
They parted with a brief hug, outside the dorm assigned to Sheng’s troop. “Give your new comrades a chance, they may surprise you. They can’t all be damaged or cripples…”
Orlando hugged his commander one last time and entered Sheng’s barracks.
#
“Fear is a natural reaction, I suppose… I am a venomous predator. It just feels a little hurtful that so many humans are terrified of spiders.” Thirp cooed. “ I do love that new Contract feeling, totally worth wearing your silly costumes.”
Angie was zonked out under Maple, on the lawn. Asleep, dreaming, and then asleep and dreaming again. Weird stuff. He could feel her dream, bubbling up through his little sphere of influence. It percolated through and escaped into the void, following Maple’s roots out into the everything and everywhere beyond his island.
“That feels crazy… and really nice. I think she’s dreaming of dancing with you Shai. At least, I keep hearing your bells in her… whatever that is.” Gary said softly, sitting with Marduk on a bench, across the stream from the girls, napping together on Becky’s island.
“Ahh, yes, mortal dreams. They can slip through the veil and give dreamers a glimpse of worlds that are compatible or resonate with the dreamer.” Marduk whispered. “Speaking of, you should be sleeping as well. Off with you, we will make sure she gets back safely.” The tiny god shuffled him off with a wave of his hand and a smile.
He woke in the grotto alone, feeling both tired and agitated at once. He dressed and headed for the workshop to get the energy out, since it was still around midnight. He slipped out into the hall on silent llama slippers, enjoying the morning stillness.
“Master Ward… errr.. Apprentice Ward, may I speak with you?” Duchess Sheng asked from the taproom.
“Mind if I work while we do? I have a lot on my plate right now.” He smiled warmly at the elegant and mature woman, whose own smile was brittle and thin. Her lustrous, black hair was lightly streaked with silver, complementing the fine network of smile lines around her lips.
She had adopted common garb indoors, along with the other ladies. She, like they, seemed almost titillated by the casual dress code in his house.
“I have never watched a wizard at his craft before… This should be enlightening.” She mused, following him, with her tea mug in hand.
“I’m not a wizard, so I’m sure you will be terribly bored.” He answered with a huge yawn. “Angie trusts you, so does Tawny… maybe I can too.”
He led her down a flight of wide stairs with a single landing, into a large open space that was filled with inexplicable mysteries and utter mundanity.
Lumber, ingots, hides and leather were stacked on strange, shiny metal shelves. A vast number of clear jars filled with herbs, small stones, seashells, teeth and strange things floating in liquids of all colors were scattered everywhere, without rhyme or reason.
Partially completed objects of wood, metal, leather and stranger substances lay on workbenches all around or hung from the rafters among bundles of dried herbs and flowers.
A settee with plump cushions and a few folded blankets held a prime viewing place, near the middle of the well lit workspace. Sheng settled with her mug and draped a plush throw over her legs with a smile.
“How does a young wizard of obvious skill and craft appear from nowhere, young man? You claim to be from another world, whatever the truth of that is, still I ask… Why Belen, why this sleepy town?”
He began whistling a soft tune, while gathering tools and things for a few moments, seeming to consider her question.
“I’m not a wizard, you know… More like an enchanter and witch. The dryads call me a druid, I guess that fits, though some of the fae call me an otherling.” He shrugged.
“Whatever, I make musical instruments… and magical tools, armor and weapons… when I have to.”
He held up his hand to forestall her inevitable protest. “Yeah, I know, enchanted tools and weapons are a myth for kids. Think about that for a few minutes…”
While he spoke, a soft and gentle, thumping bass guitar began playing from the shadows. She looked for the source and found a strange instrument with a shiny bronze disk filling most of the instrument’s body. The thing’s rumbling moan was sweet and musical, but strange.
Stranger still, the musician playing it was hidden in a robe of dark, drifting shadows, lurking almost out of sight. A flute and small drum joined in, played by similar robed figures, just as shy of the light.
The hidden musician’s thumping bass line grew faster and more complex as a guitar wailed with unfamiliar, clanging and moaning tones.
“Tell your friends to step into the light boy, I dislike being surrounded by robed people.” She said firmly, but gently.
“We’re alone down here, these are just shadows from the past. They can only touch their instruments… and only because I made them.” He began whistling along with the hidden musicians as he gathered things from the shelves.
“You made the instruments, or the shades?” She asked, with a severely diminished smile.
“Yes.” Was all the boy would say. He stepped up to a wide table and unfurled a bolt of dark, silky cloth, spreading it across the expanse of smooth wood. He drew a number of lines on the cloth in chalk, sketching out a complex design.
A small bronze knife appeared in his hand, replacing the chalk and he began cutting the fabric into abstract shapes with steady, practiced moves. He nodded along with the music, as he cut and stacked cloth pieces in piles, whistling, as a voice from the darkness began singing quietly.
Coming out to the light of day,
We got many moons that are deep at play…
So I keep an eye on the shadow's smile,
To see what it has to say…
He gathered his cloth scraps and sat down at a table with an iron anvil of very odd design mounted to it. A slow humming and clacking sound came from the table, as he rocked his feet back and forth on a treadle and manipulated cloth pieces with his hands, singing along quietly with the urgent voice from the dark.
Yeah, you don't know my mind,
You don't know my kind!
Dark necessities are part of my design!
Tell the world that I'm falling from the sky,
Dark necessities are part of my design!
Grace found herself lost in the strange, compelling song, swaying along. It pulsed and crooned in turns, soothing urgently and demanding with languid abandon. It wound down slowly, in a soft plaintive whisper of hopeful nonsense.
Naahh naaahh, nahha nanana…
“What are you doing, boy? What is this music… it stirs something…” She asked, eyeing him and his shadowed friends.
“If you have an art or craft, you will feel better if you start working on it… unless you play an instrument…” He said, without looking up from his work. “My gifts entangle and encourage your own gifts to get… ‘in the zone’, at least that’s what we call this where I come from.”
“When I was a girl I did play the dizi a bit…” She whispered, without realizing she had spoken.
“Sweet, there’s one on the rack over there, between the pennywhistles and panflute.” He smiled happily, as she picked up the simple bamboo flute.
“Iron bamboo, with a membrane of deathshead locust wing. I’m making it for a friend, he won’t mind if you take it for a twirl.”
Somehow, even after all these years, the warm, waxy bamboo flute felt like an old friend, come home at last. Her fingers and lips picked up where she had left off, so long ago, when her duties had taken over her life. Sweet music spun from her lips as she played and swayed with the strange shadows, watching the mad boy work.
Like the legend of the phoenix,
All ends with beginnings…
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What keeps the planet spinning, ah
The force from the beginning…
He sat there, whistling idly and joining the hooded singer for the harmony. His hands and feet never stopped rocking the foot treadle to the beat, as he fed scraps of cloth through his machine. The music never flagged or slowed, just as Grace didn’t tire… Even when her gentle sway became a more ecstatic dance, carrying her around the enormous chamber.
The song carried on, sweet, driving, hopeful and passionate, the simple lyrics circled round and round.
She's up all night 'til the sun!
I'm up all night to get some!
She's up all night for good fun!
I'm up all night to get lucky!
His machine eventually stilled, as he took up a silver needle and an assortment of colorful threads. She tried to follow his hands as he stitched and knotted, twirling thread and cloth in a blur of confident action.
The music slowed, finally stopping, as he cut the last trailing thread with his bronze knife. He draped the cloth over an upholstered dummy and began tucking and folding his textile.
“It feels like you have something on your mind duchess, please… You’re Tawny’s guest and Angie’s… boss, you can speak plainly here.” He said carefully, not just because of the number of brass, bronze, gold and silver pins held in his lips, as he worked.
She licked her lips nervously, before she spoke. “What you did for Angie… there is a debt there, yet I must ask… I have other warriors, they have been maimed or suffer afflictions. My Wendel lost his left arm at the elbow… A few others in my troop are…”
Gary looked up from his work, shooting a sharp look her way. “Khan says they call you ‘The Toy Collector’ in the barracks… that you buy indentured warriors who’ve been maimed or hurt. Like Angie…” He said through his dangerous mouthful of metal slivers.
“Yes, most of the ladies who are in the Adventure trade do their best to purchase all the girls at auction… For the obvious reasons.” Her stare was frank and unblinking.
“I am fortunate enough to have the resources to extend that aegis out to those who might otherwise be cast at the foe without thought. The maimed or crippled, unwell or fragile.”
She sighed when he gave her a suspicious, doubting stare. “So you run your military as a charity? That seems unlikely and unwise.” He mumbled.
“I have many warriors in my ranks, less than ten percent of my troops are indentured currently. Like Belen, I run bands of mercenaries all around the region, in addition to my ducal guard.” She shrugged expressively.
“My Angie is perhaps the cleverest logistics officer in the twelve duchies, even though they don’t know her name or face, each of my warriors relies on her skills and foresight daily.”
She looked up to the ceiling with a warm and fond smile. “Not every child with an injury or deformity is as helpful, but each that I can get, is found suitable duties and a place to belong… in my realm.”
“Ok duchess, I can work with you.” He said slowly. “Bring them by, I’ll see what I can do… no guarantees unless I have a solution.” He yawned happily as her smile brightened. “You should toddle off to bed, duchess, I’ll be down here a little bit longer. Dawn is in four hours and my next project might give you nightmares.”
“Before that, we must speak of the debt that is owed.” She said firmly. “Such matters should be dealt with directly.”
“Yeah, the bill is gonna be pretty steep if it turns out like you say. Angie’s bill is already due…” He mumbled while continuing to sew and snip.
Grace felt her face begin to flush as the boy kept working while she tried to bargain. “Certain costs have been incurred, such debts must be settled before we can continue, boy!” She snapped, as he continued to work on his project.
The boy grumbled right back at her. “I have a lot of overhead costs, exotic materials, monster parts and rare minerals don’t come cheap. That means I can’t afford to haggle. You will take my offer… or not. But this is the best I can do.”
He took his creation off the dummy and without seeming to really move, was suddenly standing behind her, draping a robe of midnight blue silk over her shoulders. Tiny jasmine flowers in silver spidersilk sprinkled the hem, collar and cuffs, embroidered in with exquisite skill.
He adjusted it to drape just so and with a deft move, wrapped a sash of the same material around her waist in a quick and intimate gesture.
He patted the neat little tuck in the sash at her right hip and scooped her into a crushing, but strangely gentle hug.
“Are we even, duchess?” He asked, when he stepped back.
They didn’t get much more talking done, but duchess Grace left him down there working his mysterious crafts, feeling like she knew more about the strange man than she did before.
She swept upstairs, to the chamber Becky had directed her to at bedtime. She had been too excited and energized then to even look inside, certain that it would do for her needs in any case.
Now, fingers running over the lapels of that deliciously smooth robe and exhausted beyond endurance, she slipped through the door and stopped in shock and confusion.
She was standing in a moonlit forest fantasy, with moss and mushrooms, rounded river stones and a glowing moon on the ceiling, which was spangled with glinting stars, all around that beautiful moon.
“Bloody Wheatford…” She gasped, as she collapsed into a bed fit for a fairytale princess.
#
Breakfast was a tranquil affair, even the little ones were mellow and slow to get started… relatively. Amy and Rio bolted by, chasing after Wilford, who wasn’t wearing pants today. The brother and sister team managed to wrestle him into his trousers, after a heroic battle in the garden.
“Amy… Shai was a hard no, on going commando…” Gary reminded her.
“Aww, we just got him dressed… She never cared about underwear before she joined the panty cult…” Amy sulked, drawing a sharp and harsh hiss from Becky. It was too late, far too late.
“Panty cult?” Gary asked, with a strange light in his eye.
They heard Shai laugh from the kitchen. “Nae boy, ye may nae intrude on our sacred observances… wiout invitation.” She mocked him with her swaying, jingling hips as she sashayed out of the kitchen with a vast tray of cinnamon rolls.
“Twould bore thee, truth be told, fer tis naught but a group of tender, smooth limbed young women, discussing their flimsies an naughties… an modeling such trifles…”
She sighed, as she walked by, trailing her shoulder length curls over his face as she delicately served him breakfast, with a chaste kiss.
#
Duke Belen and the duchess were on the tour, following along with interest, as Becky and Otho led the group of lords and ladies through the reforms. Some were having difficulty with new things.
“Literacy? Arts? Music? Really this is some jest…” Baron Hreth grumbled softly.
“No jest!” Otho sang happily, from several yards away. Gold rank hearing was a delight to the old gossip. “We are taking our responsibilities in hand and executing them under the law. “Orphans, foundlings, the abandoned and unguided children of man are the children of the Adventure guild, to be guided and taught, for the good of all mankind.” He proclaimed.
“This is the law. ‘Guided and taught, for the good of all mankind’ such a lovely sentiment… save that it says ‘guided and taught’, not ‘trained for war.’ Shall we continue the tour, you haven’t even seen the skate park and baths yet!”
Otho’s face of bronzed and wrinkled skin was flushed with energy and vitality, as he bustled about through the crowd of nobles being overly familiar and gently insistent. As the Beloved of Joy, who would say him nay in public…or private really.
Few nobles wanted the attention of the cult of Joy and the stresses that could bring to their lands. Certainly, none wanted his enmity, in his own orphanage, under Belen’s watchful eye.
That bluff and unpredictable mercenary lord seemed as interested and excited as any of them, more excited than many. “Carpentry classes? That is interesting…”
“More than just that… my lord, many of our children have drifted through the trades and crafts, working here and there, without the resources or tools to pursue such crafts farther. Some share what they know with the others, preparing our children for what comes after indenture and War.” Becky answered smoothly. “We plan to have a first rate workshop for all forms of craft here.”
Among the many blocky, staid buildings on the compound, there were a vast number of empty and disused rooms and chambers. Only during the feast of War, was even a fraction of the orphan population in residence. That event barely filled the new dormitories, nevermind the barracks and bunkrooms in the ‘Old dorms’.
The new dorms had been built around eight hundred years before and housed all the current orphans, with plenty of room to spare. Only the little ones bunked together in groups, for their comfort.
Slowly, the place was coming alive, with bustling children and pensioners all around, like a tiny village all its own, in the middle of the bureaucratic quarter. The visiting lords and ladies eyed the action and contemplated the future with a little concern.
When the tour reached the training yard, the mood lightened considerably. A small host of children were exercising the arts of war all around. Movement classes, unarmed and improvised combat, weapon drills and even some marching, were going on all around.
Guided by veteran Adventurers, retired by age or infirmity, the kids seemed to be getting all the basics, plus a few more advanced groups that drew the eyes of the more martial nobles.
“Master Mikkel is a fine arms instructor, we are lucky to have him.” Becky said firmly.
“Our veterans and elders are a vital resource, one that the Orphan’s League has long ‘encouraged’ your lordships to fund and utilize more fully.” Otho said, just as firmly.
“Duke Belen has generously agreed to these oft repeated requests and is reaping those benefits already.”
“I what?!” The duke whispered urgently to the old coot. The geezer just smiled wider.
“The increased stipend and housing allowance have more than paid for themselves, in just this year alone.” He chortled to the duke, who seemed to be slowly turning red.
“Now we can spend time training and teaching rather than scrabbling to make ends meet, as was intended under the law…” Mikkel said with a grin.
“Mikkel, you’ve been master of the plasterer and potters guild for forty years… you haven’t ‘scrabbled’ since Hannah made an honest man of you!” Old Griff shouted from the group practicing unarmed combat forms, raising giggles from the younger kids.
“It certainly seems… informal.” Duke Riddell Creek said, Hiding a wry grin behind his bushy brown beard. The lord of Mountainhome was short, stocky and was otherwise almost entirely beard. The elaborate braids and shiny beads were just the crowning glory on those radiant, flowing chinpubes.
The duke, unlike the vast majority of his people, was just below average height. His width made him seem short… and that beard.
His escort was his wife, tall red haired and powerfully built, she was head and shoulders above any of the other women in the group and towered over many of the men.
“It is important to remember, to you this is an orphanage… to us it’s home and for many, all the family we have. You are our guests in this place, but we dwell here, every day.” Duke Belen answered mildly. “Carry on children, don’t let us interrupt.”
“Where do they all come from? How are there so many?” Duke Creek asked, mystified.
“Many of these children are not orphans, but the children of the town. They come here to learn and grow with our young ones, if they wish.” Otho turned and spoke to the entire group of nobles.
“A few have gone into the Adventure craft and will swell duke Belen’s lists with dedicated volunteers. A result I’m sure you can see the benefit of.”
More murmuring spread as they walked on to the garden behind the buildings, among the standing stones. Warm, mineral and herbal scented steam drifted over from the baths, as they walked through the garden, to a broad parkland.
Busy with colorful, fast moving kids and young adults, the rolling lawns and scattered trees were wound about with smooth, hard paved trails. Young people whizzed by on strange wheeled shoes and rolling boards, flying into the air as they crested the smooth rises and dips of the terrain.
“This is a new innovation The Orphan’s League received a very generous private donation to install this feature. I strongly recommend that you consider creating one in your own domains.” Tawny announced when they had taken it all in.
“The increase in general physical fitness and agility has more than made up for the increased demands on the temple of Healer.”
She cast a smile that shouted to them all that she was in possession of a secret. “There are hidden benefits to be found in this kind of training, because it feels like entertainment. Other new things will be revealed, when the time is right.”
Lester Nismuth, master of the Fort Pasture Oddsman’s guild, followed along as the baron Hreth’s guest, taking copious notes.
Belen’s orphanage and Adventure guild were always sticklers for the rules on reporting to outside agents. They clenched up tighter than a frog’s butthole whenever the guild came calling.
This last year, it had been worse than ever, even lavish bribes netted only heavily redacted reports and hints. How was an honest bookmaker to set the odds without the information?
Adventure released quarterly reports, detailing the guild’s activities, as was the law, but most orphanages were run by War. That cult encouraged and blessed the Oddsman’s guild with special access, providing detailed and complete statistics and reports.
The fantasy Adventure leagues that operated in most towns, were almost as closely followed as the indenture sales prospectus. Both of which were the product of the Oddsman’s guild, as was their long and proud tradition.
The guild traded in statistics, reports and information among its branches, producing the hefty Adventure Almanac, every year, collated from the guild reports of every domain. It detailed all active Adventurers, individually and as teams, ranking them over a number of categories and discussing their skills and gifts in as much detail as was known.
The book made the Fantasy Adventure leagues possible, allowing the common people to compete and compare their own results. Fantasy Adventure had been wildly popular for generations… everywhere outside Wheatford.
Common people loved following the exploits of their local bands and trading fantasy warriors among themselves. For a modest buy-in, anyone could join the game, striving to win the pools managed by the guild… at a modest fee. The quarterly draft and trade meetings were lively and highly profitable.
Not just for the Oddsmen’s and the allied guilds of Accountants and Readers, who kept the books and read the almanac and reports to the participants, for a modest fee…
Taverns and pubs profited from the brisk and lively business, driving their trade every week end, when the leagues met in locals all around the lands of men, save bloody Wheatford.
More importantly, the Oddsmen held the keys to the future of the trade, in the Indenture Prospectus; which detailed the current and future crop of prospective indentures. His guild’s sacred charge lay in giving the nobility of the realm, an easy, reliable way to bid on the best.
Armed with the cold hard facts and stats from his guild, the lords and ladies could send agents out to the domains with confidence that they were getting a good value for their coins.
Only Joy refused to participate, denying them the prize. Sheng produced fine indentures, it was true… Mubaraks’ were excellent as well…
Belen indentures were the cream of every indenture sale, showering coins on the otherwise forgettable realm. His mercenaries were the best and most reliable to be had anywhere.
His sprawling, dusty, mostly dry, backwood domain had produced generations of potent warriors and the mounts they rode with such skill, making him the envy of many houses and among the richest.
For perhaps the first time in three centuries, the Oddsman’s guild had a peek inside this place, he was not going to miss a thing. Not on his life.
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