Chapter 15

Cawbachu was alive and sprawling. People of all shapes and sizes squeezed out of every nook and cranny to start their day. Kopius tried his best not to gawk and lamented the absence of sunglasses to hide his prying eyes. So far, with less than five minutes on foot, he had seen a group of dwarves, an elf, a cyclops, two centaurs, a lizard face guy and an anthropomorphic feline. He hesitated to ask about the races, holding off until a more private conversation could happen. As Cici was approached–seemingly–every five seconds to be asked about the Tessel, privacy was a ways off

The main road through Cawbachu, Twelve Days March, was neatly cobbled and well maintained. The wide street had an open view of the sky with just as many trees and plants as there were people. It gave the feeling of HomeTown, USA where a single mother owning a local coffee shop can still afford a four bedroom house with a pool. The kind of place the American Dream was sold on but sorely, sorely under delivered.

The town was built in, and had the look of, an old French village. Whitish buildings with black trim, asymmetrical windows and steep A-frame roofs resided on both sides of the street. Clean windows by the entrances were clear enough to show the contents inside the shops. The two-story store fronts lined the curb, while structures behind those rose as high as four floors. Other smaller, less maintained streets connected to Twelve Days March, leading off to different textile districts or neighborhoods. They passed by every matter of goods, services, and food establishments until turning down a side street.

The path was shaded as it led between two buildings with a connecting overhang. The fresh air of the open road was quickly replaced with personal sewage and discarded items. It wasn’t over bearing or even nauseating, just noticeable like a zit not ready to pop. Before any complaining could be done, Cici motioned to a large hut of a building and headed that direction. The big man stopped a few paces from the entrance and turned to Kopius.

“Lydian, my weaver friend inside, she can be, um–what’s the best word here… domineering.” Cici warned. “She can be a prickly one, just so you know. It’s not you–this time. It’s her… it’s most certainly her.”

“I can always keep my mouth shut, you know, be the paid mule that I am?”

“Nah,” Cici declined. “You may want to come back and do some dealings here. Just be yourself, she’ll be keen about you in due time.”

“Is she like the only weaver in town?”

“She is the best in town,” Cici stated with ironclad certainty. “Her quality is only out-paced by her hubris.”

“Sounds lovely,” Kopius said dryly.

“She is just that! Shall we?”

Cici led the way into the establishment, moving through the door opening that was covered in heavy cloth shades. They swam their way through several cloth barriers before stepping foot into an open space that looked like a cross between a sewing shop and a cobbler's workspace.

To one side there were machines like one that resembled a sewing machine with a myriad of linen laying all about. String rolls of different sizes and colors decorated the wall behind that station. A second large device appeared to cut things given its bladed lever design, like the old green paper cutters in elementary school. The third contraption had some kind of loom or knitting function and finally a fourth machine was designed like a giant press for getting wrinkles out.

On the other side of the shop were piles of thick leather sheets waiting to be put to use. The stations on this side had more tables than machines; more tools too. Some leather was getting stretched while another was in a half finished state of being transformed into a boot. Molds of all kinds lined the back wall.

There were head molds of different shapes, foot molds wide and thin, hand molds ranging three digits to six. Kopius’s gaze lingered on the six fingered mold and a smile was brought to his lips as he was reminded of the timeless classic The Princess Bride. It only lasted until the movie reminded him of Quinn, so the smile dispersed.

While Kopius took in the whole scene, Cici stepped up to a short desk and started hammering an object that did not sound like a bell but functioned like one. It looked like a rock from where Kopius was standing but it made an odd brass wind instrument sound as if blowing through a large conch shell. Between the awkward honking and general banging, a melody formed as Cici orchestrated a short song before the door at the back of the shop swung open.

“Cici Beo!” A sharply accented, gruff voice proclaimed from beyond the open door. An older woman of medium height confidently stepped out of the shadows and into the shop. Her salt and pepper streaked hair was pulled back in a tight ponytail and she wore a form fitting leather apron similar to Oh-jin's but with no pockets. Her buttoned shirt was folded to the elbows and tucked into a utility belt around the waist that hosted various tools like a hammer, chisel and overly large sewing needles. Lydian’s pants were as tight as Cici’s where it all came to an end at her feet that were protected by comfortable shin-high boots.

There was a gravity about her as she entered the room, Kopius would have noticed her arrival even if his eyes had been closed. She walked as though things would get out of her way instead of needing to go around them. Her curved face looked worn but refined as her black, almond shaped eyes adorned crevices and wrinkles. The only feature that seemed off were her shoulders that looked as if she were wearing football pads beneath her clothes. Her gaze was locked on Cici as she strode right up to him and gave him a big hug.

“What-the-fuck,” Kopius involuntarily spat out as not two, but six arms, squeezed the big man and lifted him slightly off his feet. Cici chuckled and they both turned to face him. Kopius wasn’t sure if he was surprised by the multiple appendages or that she picked up a guy almost twice her size.

Stolen story; please report.

“Who your friend?” Lydian inquired, her voice sounding like the mean Filipino dry cleaner lady down the street from Cory’s apartment. She looked over Kopius like a piece of meat.

“Lydian, my sweet,” Cici replied, “this is Kopius. I don’t recall your last name, lad.”

“I don’t really have one,” Kopuis answered cautiously, starting to wonder if these two were going to sacrifice him to one god or another.

“Kopius fine,” Lydian asserted.

Whether that meant no last name was needed or that Kopius was attractive, neither men knew. She let go of Cici’s hand, stepped forward–almost toe-to-toe with Kopius–and put one hand to her lips so that she could examine him more closely. He flinched when two of her arms moved to grab him.

“Trust issue; I like,” Lydian smirked in response.

She grabbed Kopius with two strong hands at his shoulders and started to lightly jostle him. Her iron grip moved up and down his arms and then started to awkwardly pat him down as though it was a police checkpoint. The inspection got particularly handsy when all six of her appendages got involved, to the point that he thought he would have to stop any cavity type searches. She avoided his manhood but was sure to give him a look that translated she would only be polite for so long.

When Kopius looked to Cici for help all he got was a wave of his hand that essentially said: just go with it. Thankfully she stopped before any orifices were tainted; so to speak.

“Pretty and soft,” Lydian giggled and smacked Kopius on his ass. He couldn’t help but give her the best ‘how dare you’ stare he could muster. “Moody too?” Her smile grew exponentially as if it were the cherry on top. “Remind me of princess.”

This got an immediate laugh from Cici until he caught a look from his friend.

“Level three to be precise,” Cici couldn’t help but to add. “That’s a story for another time though, love. We come bearing goods.”

Two of her hands were still holding onto the jumble of leather straps that made up Kopius’s sword sheath. She ignored Cici, focusing on the mess around Kopius' waist. “You wear this wrong,” Lydian stated while she continued to probe at the multiple knots and tangles.

“Uh,” Kopius replied slowly, “do you know how it goes on?”

“No,” she answered sharply. “Not like this!”

Does anybody know how this fuckin’ thing works? Kopius internalized.

“Give to me.” Lydian ordered with one of her hands out.

“The goods?” Kopius guessed, unsure what she was referencing.

“No,” Lydian clipped and then pointed to his sword sheath. She used her other fingers to snap in quick succession indicating that he was not moving fast enough. With no objections or defenses coming from Cici, Kopius gave in and started the process of untying his sheath. He removed the swords, placing them on the desk and untied the thing. Once unraveled he gave Lydian the jumble.

She took the sheath and stepped back to the leather station side of the shop. Placing it on the workbench and donning a thick, magnifying type monocle on her right eye, her inspection began. She examined the pile of leather as if it were a Rubix cube competition; lifting and twisting parts here and there to get the full picture. It was like she was performing an autopsy using tools to move leather around, stop to examine a knot, and then move on.

“How you pay?” Lydian demanded at the end of her inspection.

“What?” was all Kopius could answer.

“Pay! He born last week?” Lyian scolded Cici but continued before he could reply.

“I do; you pay,” she made the–apparently universal–money gesture of the thumb rubbing the tip of the middle and pointer fingers; except with all six hands. “I do, you no pay,” was followed by acting like she was grabbing a cherry and aggressively plucking it off a tree; except she didn’t mean a cherry. With all six hands performing the same neutering gesture, Kopius felt his crew shrink back like they had just been dunked in ice cold water.

“I didn’t ask you to do anything,” Kopius shot back defensively.

“We have grafeen and three large totes of goods.” Cici interjected, finally joining the conversation.

Kopius took the cue to move the conversation on and withdrew the three large bags of miscellaneous items. For good measure, he also removed the small pouch of grafeen from his pocket and emptied it on her desk. She glanced over the loot and cracked a smile, her face lighting up enough for Kopius to put his foot in his mouth.

“You have a pretty smile,” he said for some reason.

“Should I smile more?” Lydian scoffed back without hesitation. “Am I prettier when I smile?” She said, cocking her head sideways with an exaggerated grin. Oh shit, Kopius gulped. She’s going to kill me.

“I, I, didn’t mean any of that,” Kopius stammered. “I was just trying to be nice.”

“Nice get you go nowhere! Speak truth; only have to tell one story!”

“You want truth?” Kopius started to yell back defensively but stopped as he thought about her words.

He wasn’t expecting to be hit in the face with life lessons from the six armed lady in a hut but here he was. Had he entered the hut, like any other space in his life, assuming he was the smartest person in the room? Probably. Had he told himself to knock that shit off? Countless times, but it’s a lot easier to preach than practice; that was part of his problem.

“You want the truth?” Kopius repeated in a calmer, more collected manner. “You are pretty when you smile but do it whenever the hell you want, lady. I’m not your boss.”

“He like that all time?” Lydian asked Cici with a hint of concern.

“Mornings mostly,” Cici confirmed. “Usually wears off by midday.”

“What am I even paying for?” Kopius asked loudly, trying to cut through the nonsense.

“This!” Lydian declared.

She picked up the pile of sheath in all six hands, rotated it to the right and then got to work. It was all a blur, her hands moved quickly in, out and around the entire jumble. Pulling one strap here, while holding another there and loosening two other pieces all the while. The sheath flipped and spun, twirled and folded like a spider designing an intricate web. Within a few moments she was done and held the sheath with her top two hands and let it unravel towards the ground. What she displayed looked more like a flight suit body harness instead of a sword sheath.

A light bulb went off in his mind and he resisted the urge to chastise himself for not doing it sooner. Stepping up, he reached out to touch the unwound harness and used his identification ring for the first time out in the wild.