Ch: 167 Sweet Cherry Pie
Ivy had taken up her duties in the kitchen with gusto, on her return to staying in the orphanage. ‘Smuggling’ Tallum in at night offered few challenges, the big man had developed a surprising knack for sneakiness lately.
The familiar old stone oven was cranky and quirky, but she’d grown up beside its warm, comfortable solidity. She reached her long wooden peel in and pulled out her early summer favorite, false cherry pies. A simple hot water pastry crust, filled with chopped prunes and dried apples from winter’s stores, all rehydrated with honey and cherry petal syrup.
Shai was at the wide kitchen table, going over the books with a look of concern on her face. “Tis too much, Muktar did bargain too hard by half, an the licencing fees alone were nae so…” She fell silent, as Ivy landed a plate in front of her.
Dandelion greens, shredded fried burdock and new spinach, dressed with lemon juice, topped with a small, hot pie.
Gratefully, she crumbled the warm, sticky pie with her fork, attacking the salad and pie combo with a happy sigh.
“We must right this, ere Gary discovers, he shall be mighty cross tae be so well monied. I hae a draft contract fer Naiomi tae sign, an ye agree… Even so, ‘twill long be too profitable.” She complained, while feasting on a springtime favorite. Hot tea with plenty of honey put her back on an even keel.
Ivy paged through the thick sheaf while Shai took her late lunch to task. “This looks fair, if we manage it well the orphanage will be funded in perpetuity. Otho probably won’t stop his sculpture project.”
“Nae while I’m eating lass…” She stopped chewing, stood, and turned a dangerous red. “Summat hae frightened Amy an the boys!” She dashed off in a storm of jingling bells.
Shai found Tallum in the market ward, talking to Tony in a very animated way.
“...grabbed, dragged her away and hit her, threw her down, then ran when a friend came. He better hope Order catches him before Gary or I do. Gods preserve him if Shai…” He paled when he heard those bells, chiming a somehow martial and threatening song.
“Everyone is fine… someone tried to snatch Amy but ran away before Angie could catch him. She’s not a sprinter.” He held up his palms before him, while Tony tried to look more official as the red haired tempest hurtled their way.
“This is a matter for Order, journeyman Shai. I will be investigating this.” Tony said firmly.
“Aye, by all means, an I find the bastard he’ll nae be fit fer aught but burial… Tallum, tell me all ye know as we go home.”
#
“Demanding answers tae questions, an a suspicious Oddsman in the shop just before… Fie, an Gary learns of Fantasy Adventure League he shall be even more cross an unmanageable. An this Oddsman were the one, it shall be dark doings. Are ye sure she did tongue lash him?” She asked.
“Yeah, Angie says he was covered in welts and torn clothes, I found a little blood.” He mumbled softly, like an earthquake.
Shai rumbled too, like a big cat that had been prodded with a short stick, someone was going to get mauled.
They spotted Gary, prowling the gate market, surrounded by a pall of dread that followed him everywhere. The poor shopholders couldn’t escape and were interrogated in turn about some sandy haired stranger who was not going to enjoy being found.
#
Lester never even considered returning for his belongings in the loft, he hit the river road, headed upstream and started trudging. He’d foraged and lived rough in less pleasant climates in his duties as an Oddsman.
Woodland survival and self reliance were part of the job. He could resupply in Flintspire town and buy a horse. In two weeks he would be back in Fort Pasture, sending his reports as fast and as far as he could get them to fly. A scoop like this could make a career, even for an established master of the guild.
He would be set for life when his reports started circulating, he might even retire from the guild and buy a few indentures for himself… a few other Oddsmen had done well for themselves that way. The light began to fade while the town was still visible behind him, so he tucked off into the half tame woodlands to camp. He found a pleasant little dell and made a cold camp under the boughs of a tree.
#
Delbert Delbert had a terrible name, but a gift for flatland farming, he brought three crops a year from his land, alfalfa at midsummer, autumn wheat and barley in the new year. He would have had a full haybarn, but for that unseasonable storm. Renting his empty loft to that oily city fellow seemed a good solution… now Order was at his door, in the person of sir Thelonius.
Tony dwarfed the farmer’s sitting room, filling it beyond capacity with his size and aura of contained energy.
“So I have your permission to search that barn, officially?”
The big knight walked very carefully across the loose, wide spaced floorboards as he searched the dry, dusty space. He found a few changes of clothes, all travel worn and soiled. Otherwise it was a bedroll, toilet kit and a bag of travel rations, standard fare for a man afoot or traveling in uncertain times.
The only unusual things were the books. A copy of the latest Indenture Prospectus and the most recent Adventure Rankings Guide, along with a few handwritten notebooks in shorthand of some kind.
“If he returns for his goods, tell him to report to the temple of Order. Thank you for your assistance.” The giant knight said, before sketching a shallow bow and departing the barn with the stranger’s things over his shoulder.
#
An hour later, Shai appeared at the goodman’s door, with a thunderstorm riding on her brows. He quickly led the terrifying woman to his now vacant loft and went back inside, so that she could satisfy her own curiosity in peace.
Once she left, he sat down by the fire and put the kettle on. He needed tea, something fierce… and a knock came at the door, again.
A large brown haired man with a crooked, slightly disturbing smile stood there.
“Delbert?” He asked pleasantly.
“You come bout the Oddsman too? I hear he rough handled a child or something… I've no time nor hospitality for such men. I’ll show you the loft… bloody parade of giants…” Delbert grumbled, swinging his kettle off the fire with a sigh.
“I came to buy some hay… actually… because I couldn’t find the trail of the man who ‘rough handled’ my child today.” He growled, seeming suddenly, very different and dangerous. “Show me this loft and tell me about this …Oddsman? What is that?”
“... you never heard of the Oddsmen’s guild? They handle the statistics and such for the Fantasy Adventure games people play in some towns…” Delbert was no great explainer of the fine points of fantasy competition… but Gary picked up the gist of it.
“And this guild snoops on orphanages to get ‘pre season’ stats or something?” He asked, still pretty confused by the whole thing.
“No, that’s for the Indenture Prospectus book… lords and indenture speculators follow that book… it’s supposed to list the indentures coming fer sale or something. I’m a farmer, I only know because my cousins in Fort Elm play Fantasy Adventure and won’t shut up about it.”
Something about the rhythmic cadence of the man’s speech kept Delbert talking, long after the farmer would have fallen quiet. He kept chattering on despite himself, as the stranger’s face became redder and more frightening with every sentence.
“There’s a catalog… of orphans. So the buyers can bid confidently…” He whispered “...is that what you’re saying?”
Delbert nodded with a silent gulp of fear, as the man turned and stalked off. “I will come another day, master Delbert. Thank you for the information.”
The strange fellow stalked off into the evening, he straddled a wheeled device at Delbert’s gate and rolled away silently. Looking thoughtful and furious.
#
Gary rolled around town taking the farm roads back from the uplands side of town. As he rolled down the far side of the high arched stone bridge and spotted home, some of his agitation and anger drained away.
Inside, Angie and Becky had the kids drawing and coloring by the fire, while the rest were scattered anxiously in small clusters, speaking earnestly and shooting worried glances at him.
“So…” He said softly, so the kids wouldn’t be disturbed. “...The Oddsman’s guild. I’m going to assume he wanted to interrogate Amy rather than… Well, I’ll butcher him either way.” He sank into a seat and hung his head.
“Seems like that little shit fled town, at least nobody’s seen his ass.”
“Tony was by earlier, that was his conclusion too.” Liam spoke soothingly and low, as though to a spooked horse. “The kids are fine, but Angie feels awful… She’s still unsure on her new leg and couldn’t get there fast enough. I need you to talk with her, you and Shai… once you both settle down.”
Enjoying the story? Show your support by reading it on the official site.
Otho and Naiomi appeared, they were together constantly of late, those two geezers. The old couple sank onto the sofa with Naomi bracketing him, penning him in with venerable elders.
“From what I hear, Amy and the boys used some secret thing you have been teaching them to drive him off.” The priest whispered with a grin. “Would you like to tell me about that?”
“Amy has a vocal gift, it’s developing early and coming in strong. I’ve been training her, with help from Marduk and Thirp… She keeps learning new things, before we can even get a handle on the last thing…” He muttered softly. “It’s a little scary.”
“Fascinating…” Otho murmured. “Tradition and policy state that I should file a report and forward the information to the capital… Now I’ll be quietly ignoring that requirement. No more of my children will ever be sent to fosterage in the capital…” He felt the heat of Gary’s glare on his cheek and swiftly corrected himself.
“Or in this case, your children.”
“Uh huh, thanks Otho. Tell me about the Oddsman’s guild…” He said very carefully.
Otho took a long while explaining Fantasy Adventure League, the related guilds and activities, it was strangely familiar.
“So players pay a fee and draft a team of fantasy adventurers… The Oddsmen update the stats at weekly meetings at local inns and taverns, with info drawn from Adventure guild public records… We had something similar where I come from.”
Gary was smiling and seemed to be taking the news well, until his smile froze over and became brittle and sharp.
“Now tell me about the slave catalog…” He mumbled dangerously.
“It’s not a slave catalog… The quarterly health and fitness reports and training notes from every orphanage are sent to the capital and become public record. Most lands provide the reports directly to the Oddsmen as a matter of tradition. From that information they compile the Indenture Prospectus, it’s a listing of the upcoming indenture…” Otho’s own smile became a bit chilly as he listened to his own explanations.
“Oh, Gods preserve me, it’s a damn slave catalog.” He hung his head and shook the shorn silver dome sadly while Gary and Naiomi consoled the skinny old man.
“It’s like I had a bag over my head until you came along boy… I dislike this feeling. A man my age should not be surprised so often.” He grumbled.
“At least you have the excuse of being a man and as such are naturally oblivious… I suffer the full brunt of this humiliating revelation.” Naiomi sassed, as she scratched his short silver haired scalp gently.
“Are you two an item now? Are you dating?” Gary asked with a foolish grin. Otho looked up in amusement, while Naiomi just cackled merrily.
“We’ve been married nearly three hundred years, boy.” Otho said with a grin. “You kids act like you invented cute backsides and pretty eyes last week…” The man’s long lanky arm moved behind Gary and Naiomi Jumped with a mild squeak of embarrassed delight.
“Wretched old goat!” She giggled fondly.
“You guys are disgusting.” Gary muttered softly with a smile on his lips. His eyes remained distant and angry. “What can we do about this guy? He’s probably on foot, but he might’ve bought a horse from some out of towner… There’s no telling which way he went or how fast he’s moving.”
“Exactly, my boy… Amy is unharmed, so no ‘serious’ crime has been committed, under the law. Such matters are usually handled civilly, the Adventure guild could file a complaint for attempted theft of guild property…” He blanched as the words crossed his lips.
“Gods damn it boy…” The old man smacked his lips together as though tasting something bitter.
“There will be a reckoning for deceiving me… and my lady Joy. She is listening right now and is experiencing something new. Joy is furious, Gary… and that is very strange indeed.”
“The nature of her gift was going to be revealed soon anyway. Amy is unlikely to stop singing and I assume that is the key component.” Naiomi whispered.
“This man’s report will serve your needs… Amy is, as yet, not a part of the orphanage, so there will be no records to back up his news… just more rumor and speculation.” She smiled a devilish grin.
“Let him tell his tales, when the guild looks into Wheatford’s files, his claims will collapse and his anticipated wealth will fade away like morning mist.”
Otho too smiled at that, he sat up straight and looked less forlorn. “If we confound any future investigators, they may even censure him for a false report; Oddsmen are ever wary of such.” He grinned wickedly. “He might even be induced to return to prove his claim…”
“An he returns, he will be mine.” Shai said from behind them, startling the whole sofa with her cold, hungry tone.
“Hey babe… I want a slice of his ass too.” Gary whispered angrily.
“Nae. Ye would intend tae only maul him, an do murder in yer rage. I shall slice him intae collops an cutlets, wi due intent and full knowing. I’ll leave enough fer tawny tae sew back taegether, ye hae my word on it”
With that she went into the kitchen and started a late dinner of leftovers and salad. “Twere a busy day, whae else be hungry?” She spoke merrily, though she chopped her vegetables very, very aggressively.
#
Lester sat under the boughs of a willow tree, doing his best with what he had. On his unplanned flight from that terrible coven of little witches, he had picked up a thing or two.
With his belt knife, he carved a simple needle from a piece of bone found in the woods, some wolf’s winter kill no doubt. He twisted fibers from the reeds at the waterside into a crude thread and did what he could to mend his clothes.
His coat and shirt were tattered and torn by whatever witchcraft the child had struck him with. Similarly, his chest and back were cisscrossed with angry red weals; only the strike to his face had drawn blood. That wound still felt cold, tight and heavy, under its scab of clotted blood, sweat and dust.
He washed by the river, wincing at the cold sting on his battered flesh and the indignity of bathing in the woods like a filthy tribal. When it came time to tend the wound on his face, it wept slowly and freely for a long time, welling up with thick, dark blood… that was not encouraging.
He plastered a mix of sticky riverbank clay over it and hoped for the best. Dinner was scant and unsatisfying under the boughs. A few nuts he had snatched from a squirrels’ stash, some barely edible late winter apples and a handful of raw wild oats.
He curled up under a pile of dry, fallen leaves and tried to sleep, ignoring all the creepie crawlies he was sharing his bed with.
#
He was dreaming, certainly… Otherwise the beautiful young woman smiling at him under the boughs of the willow would be wearing clothing. She smiled so kindly, with warm dark brown eyes that were strangely large, and compelling. She brushed long, flowing locks of dark brown hair over her bare, pale shoulder with a giggle.
“Men often sleep beneath me, sheltering under my boughs all up and down this river… I do tiptoe through their dreams from time to time, just for my own amusement.” She gave that sultry giggle again.
“Even an immortal likes to be told she’s pretty… from time to time.”
“Are you a spirit? To invade the dreams of men?” He demanded. “I’ll defend my mind with my arts, Whatever the cost!”
She giggled once more and shook her head. “No, no, you are not for me. I am here to introduce your new friend; men once called her Maat, or Minerva, Themis… so many names.” Her giggle was now coldly frightening.
“She asked me to meet you first, and warn you not to flee. Her child’s venom is in you and has festered in your own acts, you will never escape her web.”
“Dream threats are of no worry to me, spirit. Begone.”
“I will be gone… but heed this before I go, I am no simple spirit and you… are not dreaming.”
As she finished speaking, she vanished in a puff of falling willow leaves.
He looked around his dim bower, straining to see with the faint moonlight that filtered through. A chill ran through him, despite the warm night, as he realized he was not dreaming, not at all.
He felt a tickle at his ankle and looked down, a large golden spider was crawling up his trouser leg, slowly and carefully. With a yelp, he brushed the thing away, only for another to descend onto his shoulder. Another appeared, and another, in moments his shelter was crawling with hand sized, venomous orb weavers.
He kicked, swatted and stomped, crushing a few… too few. A burning sting lanced through his leg when he stomped the first one, he received another bite for each thereafter, until he fell to the leaf strewn floor, writhing and spasming.
“Mistress Willow did warn you not to flee, she should have warned you not to struggle as well… that was slightly cruel of her.” The voice was soft and sweet, musical even, ringing out from the boughs above him.
With a subtle shift and warping of reality, she came into view in the darkness, as though illuminated from within. A huge, golden orb weaver dangled over him, like those crawling over his terrified, paralyzed body but far larger.
She descended on a thread, landing lightly on four of her legs. She held a shimmering harp of spun silk and bones, strumming her words from the instrument.
“I have only recently returned from afar, where my own humans have nearly forgotten me. How delightful, to return home and find my cult about to begin anew…” She strummed a sustained chord and gazed at his prone, helpless form. “How disappointing that someone attacked the one who is to be mine.” She paused for a moment and preened her long, slender legs, one by one.
“I like this aspect.” She mused, while his eyes rolled in helpless terror. “Formerly I was depicted as a hippo headed goddess, or a blind scale bearer most frequently… In my role I have worn so many names and faces, it’s pleasant to be so… natural.”
The spiders crawled over him, spinning their silken threads this way and that, as she reached out and lifted his rigid body in her appendages. In a few short minutes, from her perspective anyway… the man was neatly wrapped in a silken shroud, wound tightly together into a bundle.
“Ahh, that’s much better, isn’t it, Lester? That looks snug, and tasty… in this form, I find no little temptation in this presentation…” Her fangs clicked together audibly, each one as long as a shortsword and dripping red venom that sizzled when it landed on the leaves and soil.
“I think the poor dear has me mixed up with Arachne… in any case; my beloved’s curse is on you and there is no escape…”
She stilled her harp for a moment, eyeing him hungrily. “You may choose to return and face judgment, in which case, you will likely never see me again. Or you may flee justice… We will become such good friends, if you choose to flee. No, don’t struggle… you’ll spoil your flavor.”
Lester’s world went black as those fangs lowered toward his face.
#
He woke to dappled sunshine and birdsong by the riverside, under his bower of willow. He shook away the remnants of that horrid dream and wriggled out of his cocoon with a sigh of relief. He hadn’t had night terrors like that since he first went to be apprenticed at the guild hall.
He shuddered again, recalling those first cold and lonely nights, staying in the apprentice dorms among strangers.
Now he was a master in the guild, and soon to be a well compensated former master, once he got his reports in. That little witch and her coven were going to be the making of him.
Those thoughts occupied his mind, as he tore through the shrouds of silk, sealing the bower. It was funny, he’d never had nightmares about spiders before, it was always lurking shadows and unnamed fear that haunted his restless nights. He scratched idly at the complex spider web tattoo printed in deep red ink on the backs of both his hands.
Breakfast was the most important meal of the day and he was surrounded by tasty things. A big nest of rolly pollies started him off, followed by a few black and yellow striped giant crickets. It was a crunchy morning all around. Satisfied for now, he started walking up the river road, pausing to munch down anything tasty that flew or crawled by.
#
It was a quiet day in the little house by the river, Gary and Shai took the kids to the orphanage and stayed all day, watching them play among the others. Notables and interested parties were informed that it was ‘Family Day” in no uncertain terms.
When they returned home, duchess Sheng was waiting, with the other ladies and her warriors.
“We have spoken and come to an agreement. We shall seek accommodations elsewhere, that we might not disturb your family in this trying time.”
“No, you gotta stay!” Amy bawled, too strung out and tired to be a big girl this evening. She dashed forward and clung to the skirts of Jaspreet and Grace.
“Sorry ladies, you’ve been outvoted. Unless you really want to leave…” Gary murmured, as he collected his sleepy daughter and hugged her close. “You all remain welcome in our home.”
“Aye, an we need yer help tae eat all these pies, tis a springtime delicacy in Wheatford!” Shai called, as she loaded a tray of partially cooked pastries into the oven.
“Those are tasty…” Jaspreet murmured hungrily.
#
That night, Lester crawled under a pile of leaf litter and bedded down with a deep sense of satisfaction.
“I see you have chosen flight, I can’t say I’m disappointed.” Her sweet, concordant song soothed him, as she dropped down from a terrible height in the starry sky above. She landed lightly and snipped her thread, scuttling close to his nest.
“You should begin traveling at night, child. When the rest of your eyes open, you will find full sunlight painful. “You are coming along so well…”
Lester fairly glowed with her praise, the goddess herself thought he was doing well… that made him want to shed this human skin and spread all his legs… wait… Dawning horror and fear spread across his face, under the intricate red ink tattoo inscribed into his flesh.
“Oh, dear… you are a thick witted one, you’ve only just noticed the changes... If you scurry back to that human town and confess, you will regain your humanity, until then you will continue to change, becoming one of my children.”
She sighed a musical breath of notes through her harp. “Unfortunately, you have deeply offended the local goddess of spinners, weavers and secrets. She is truly a spider and deeply loves those children… that does complicate things. I had a lovely chat with her, such a delightful entity…”
Eight dark eyes pinned him down just as surely as her eight legs did. “The children you attacked are dearly beloved of a number of gods and fae entities… and you struck them in the temple precincts of those gods… you imperil workings more vast and complex than you know.”
She slowly began to climb an invisible thread, back into the firmament, vanishing with a final whisper. “At dawn you must decide, the world of men, or the world of beasts. There is no mercy to be had for your crime, save that which humans can give.”
#