Tosh saw that got The Drumgag’s attention. The human flesh-ball sat up straighter. “What do you want to know about that?” The bloated creature moved to the edge of its tub, making the redhead gasp and roll to one side to avoid being crushed between the behemoth and the stone lip of the tub.
“I represent someone who wishes to buy it,” Tosh lied, though he felt it roll off his tongue with ease. He looked at The Drumgag, but Setter spoke first. The Drumgag smiled and tried to clap his hands, but simply beat them on his slicked sides with a dull, thump thump thump.
“I see. So, why come to my Master?” Setter asked.
“You have the map to it. Or so you claim to—”
“I have!” The Drumgag screeched before Setter could speak. “I have!”
“Then, give it to us,” Bors roared from his position, his hands outstretched.
Tosh held his hand up to Bors. I have to take control of this. “No, we will—”
“For him,” The Drumgag shouted back at Bors, pointing a tiny finger at the mountain of a man.
“No,” Tosh said simply. “That will not happen.” Tosh shook his head. “I’d be lost without him.”
“Then we are at an impasse,” Setter said, shrugging his own shoulders.
“What about a trade?” Tosh asked, trying to take back control of the conversation. He folded his hands to his stomach, keeping them from shaking. “What is it The Great and Magnificent Drumgag wants, besides my bodyguard?”
“Riches, gems, power,” Setter said as he moved deftly away from the churning tub that his master sat in. Some of the reeking water still splashed onto Setter’s dark boots. There was a slight frown on the sallow face, but it was gone before the others recognized it.
Not Tosh. He saw it and smiled. “What about guaranteed trade routes on Mars?”
“You have them?” Setter asked, looking mildly shocked. The Drumgag loomed over him, drooling more than usual with greed, the creature’s fetid breath coming in ragged gasps.
“My family does,” Tosh lied. He tried his best not to swallow too hard. A little lie to get us what we need. He avoided looking at Bors, already feeling queasy at the little lie. Wait, why am I—
He looked at Setter and narrowed his eyes. The majordomo was smirking at him, the near-human’s fingers moving in a strange pattern. Tosh realized why he felt the way he did. “Great Drumgag, your majordomo does a great disservice to you. He is using the Eldritch Ways to—”
Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.
“The Great Drumgag does as he wills,” Setter said. “He wishes for me to make sure that all merchants and those who come to him are being completely truthful.” The pattern shifted, and Tosh spotted the hex that Setter was conjuring in front of The Drumgag.
“I do?” The Drumgag asked, confused by the concept of truth from what Tosh knew about the creature.
“Oh great Drumgag, I swear upon your magnificence. Your great and lofty mind could weed through any lie that a mere mortal like myself could come up with,” Tosh said, bowing lower. “I cannot lie in the presence of one such as you. Your razor sharp wit and keen mind is more than a match for me.”
Setter smirked more. “Well, since you aren’t—”
“I beseech you, oh great Drumgag, please remove this man from our talks,” Tosh continued forward, shouting at the stinky lump of flesh in the thick, dark stained tub. “He is unneeded for this.” Tosh put every ounce of charm into his smile, looking up at The Drumgag with adoration. It roiled his stomach to look at the pinched bump of a head on the bulbous body, yet he had to get out of here intact, and with Bors as well. The barbarian was his only protector. For the moment.
“Go, Setter,” The Drumgag said, turning his orange-tainted face towards other the near-human. “You aren’t needed here anymore.”
Setter looked like he wanted to argue. Still, he snapped his jaws closed with an audible click and bowed to The Drumgag while mumbling some platitude. He backed out of the large visiting chamber of The Drumgag. His serpent-slitted eyes stared at The Drumgag, yet Tosh felt the cold and slimy vision touch on himself as well.
“As I was saying, my great Drumgag. We need to find the map—”
The Drumgag’s small hand reached into the muck of his tub. Its face screwed up in concentration while rooting around in the fetid liquid. He ignored the watery dross spilling out and soaking the beauty that had escaped the muck, only to be soaked by the movements of The Drumgag. She let out a small squeak of disgust, yet Tosh knew no matter how vile The Drumgag got, she would stay as his possession. Tosh noticed not a trace of a brand on her pale body, which was very odd. He realized that even though The Drumgag was barely human or human-like; he was still powerful and had immense wealth. She would stay for it, and that thought turned Tosh’s stomach. If situations were different, would I have stayed if given the choice?
The Drumgag pulled out a small box of dark metal, coated in the slop of his tub that beaded, oozed, and sloughed off the metallic casing. The creature dropped the muck-covered cube into Tosh’s outstretched hand. “This has all you need to get to the Crimson Planet. Where are my trade routes?”
“First, we need to—”
“I want the trade routes!” The Drumgag shouted.
“You will have them,” Tosh said. He pulled out a small thumbnail-sized crystalline oval. He rubbed at the crystal until it glowed. “I, Tosh Sar Ibn Har du’Vaul of House du’Vaul will sign over all of my trade routes on Mars to the great Drumgag when I return from the Crimson Planet.”
The Drumgag nodded and smiled, one of his hands clasped for the small oval as Tosh set it on the lip of the stone tub. “Is our business—”
“Yes,” The Drumgag screeched as he took up the oval of crystal blue. He rubbed it on his flesh, coating it in a thin layer of the fluid in his tub and then dropped it into the tub. “When you return, we talk more.” The Drumgag gave a smile, then pulled the redhead to him, kissing and licking her flesh, working towards the woman’s face. Tosh saw her eyes flared with rage and disgust, but her face stayed the same placid mask.
“Let’s go, Bors,” Tosh said, turning and walking out of the chamber, trying to keep his stomach from roiling at the display.