“Well, this is shit.”

It was unclear whether Vish was referring to the situation or to the literal pile of shit he was half-heartedly shoveling into a wheelbarrow, but Gabriel had to agree on both counts.

“At least we got some work.”

“Are we actually going to get paid this time?” Vish sneered.

Gabriel opted not to rise to the provocation and instead bent his back to the task at hand – mucking out Greta Kinnowitz’s stables. The horses had been ushered out before they arrived, but Gabriel had to imagine that they were of prodigious size; the place looked like a warzone.

“We used to keep a couple of ponies when I was growing up,” Figo said, “This is quite nostalgic!”

Vish paused in his shoveling, “I thank the gods above and below that my childhood was only coloured with war, drought and hunger. I pity you, my man, I pity you.”

Figo shrugged the remark off and carried on cheerfully forking loose hay.

“Everything alright in here?” Greta asked, poking her head around the door.

“Very good, thank you ma’am. We’ll have this place looking pristine in no time,” Gabriel assured her.

“Thank you ever so much. You boys are doing a great job,” Greta was talking to Gabriel, but she was watching Bling chase birds away from the vegetable patch. She winced when Natasha started cawing at them.

“Our pleasure, Miss Kinnowitz,” Gabriel said.

She returned her attention to the mercenary captain, “You don’t know what a big help this is. After,” she swallowed a lump in her throat, “after those goblins killed my poor Henry, well, none of the farmhands would come out here anymore. Even our live-in staff left. It was all I could do to keep this place running.”

“You poor thing,” Vish gushed.

Gabriel and Figo both stared at the mind-mapper incredulously.

“I can’t imagine how hard it must have been on you,” he continued, “I wish I had half your strength.”

Greta brightened, “Strength? Well, I don’t know about that. I just did what I had to, you know?”

“You’re very brave,” Vish persisted.

The farmer blushed, “Brave? Oh, no. Nothing like that. I’m not like you; you’re a mercenary! You have to be brave all the time!”

Vish leant on his shovel, “We just try to keep the peace.”

“And I can’t tell you how grateful I am that you do.”

Everyone had stopped working now, and Greta eventually noticed.

“Oh, sorry, don’t let me keep you,” she hesitated, clearly reluctant to go, “Can I get you boys some water?”

“That would be lovely, Ms Kinnowitz,” Vish said.

“Oh, Greta, please.”

“That would be lovely, Greta.”

Greta smiled and tore herself away to fetch water.

“Vish, are you hitting on our client?” Gabriel asked.

Vish shrugged, “Just being nice. Can’t I be nice?”

Gabriel thought about that for a second, “No. No, you can’t. I’m pretty sure you’re not even physically capable of being nice.”

“Oh ye of little faith,” Vish said as he resumed flinging feces.

Greta returned a short while later with a pail of water and a ladle to drink from. She passed the container to Vish and watched as he drank.

“I’ve never met someone like you before,” she said, as she watched the coloured man sprinkle water over his face and neck.

“Someone so handsome?” Vish asked.

She giggled, “No, silly. Someone who looks,” she fumbled for a polite way to say it, “I mean, someone from… Where you’re from.”

“Well, if my people knew of your fine hospitality then I imagine you would see a lot more of them.”

“Oh, you charmer,” she said, giving him a playful push.

“Are you going to pass that, Vish, or are we going to have to wait for it to rain?” Gabriel prompted.

Vish handed off the pail without taking his eyes from Greta, “I’m Vellorian. It’s a small, landlocked country, East of the Dbhorin desert. It’s a harsh land, but beautiful in its own way. It’s a dry place, but there is life if you know where to look. Hidden in the chasms there is a whole world of flowers, birds, and creatures of all colours and sizes. They are beautiful, and they are deadly, just like everything that comes from there.”

Greta found herself nodding along.

“So when did your husband die, Mrs. Kinnowitz?” Gabriel asked.

Greta remembered herself and was immediately abashed, whilst Vish’s scowl went unnoticed.

“Two weeks ago,” Greta said, fiddling with the hem of her pinafore, “Our swineherd found him in the meadow, out towards the forest. He was barely recognisable.”

She stared into space for a time and Gabriel started to regret his sabotage.

“That reminds me, I’ll need you to tend to the sties once you’re done here. The swineherd hasn’t been back since the funeral, and I’m afraid I’ve not had the time to get in there myself.”

Greta took the pail from Figo and made her exit.

“Well, fucking, done,” Vish congratulated.

“We were going to have to do it anyway, with or without your flirting,” Gabriel tried to convince himself.

“I might have got away with it!”

“If you want to get paid like the rest of us, you work like the rest of us.”

“Bling doesn’t work like the rest of us,” Vish grumbled beneath his breath.

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“Really? You really want to go into this?” Gabriel warned.

“I’m sure he does not,” Figo said placatingly, stepping between Vish and the shovel Gabriel was raising.

Greta returned unexpectedly, but apparently didn’t pick up on the fact that one of her helpers was on the verge of bludgeoning another to death.

“Can one of you strong young men give me a hand in the kitchen? My back is already stiff from moving around bags of flour, and I want to make sure you have fresh bread to go with your supper.”

Gabriel and Vish practically tripped over themselves in their hurry to assist, but it was the mind-mapper who burst out of the barn and into the outside world first. He took a deep breath of non-shit-scented freedom.

Greta took Vish by the arm, “My hero.”

“Anything for a damsel in distress. Now, let’s see if we can’t do something about that back, as well. I know some very relaxing tea recipes, perhaps I could even offer a massage?”

Gabriel watched the departing pair enviously.

“Tell me, Figo, is this a new low for him, or am I just extra pissed off right now?”

“You’ve known him longer, you tell me,” Figo replied.

Gabriel reflected briefly, “It definitely is not.”

Work resumed. The two scooped and stabbed as the sun continued to rise in the sky and the day grew exponentially hotter. The pair of mercenaries were still only halfway done with the stable when Bling hopped over to announce a visitor.

“Shiny man!” She pointed and shouted at Vagalad as he approached with his guards in tow.

“Oh, fuck,” Figo said.

“Well, Natasha, Figo, it would seem that this is the day we die. I would love to say that it’s been a pleasure, but, frankly, death might actually be an improvement.”

“Not something to joke about right now, Gabe!” Figo squealed.

Figo searched frantically for something to use as a weapon, before remembering that he was holding a pitchfork – something of a mob staple. He levelled it at Vagalad as he approached.

“He always this jumpy?” The Duke motioned towards Figo but directed the question at Gabriel.

“Only when he fears for his life. So, yes.”

“Where’s the other one?” Vagalad continued, undaunted.

Figo lowered his weapon, “Vish? Oh, you only want to kill Vish? He went that way. It was nice seeing you again.”

“Spineless twat. I’m not here to kill anyone,” The Duke grunted.

Vagalad gestured to one of the guards, who stepped forward and plonked a leather pouch in Gabriel’s hand.

“Your pay for finding Hubert. There’s double in there. Didn’t sit right with me that I hadn’t honoured my agreement,” Vagalad smoothed his velvet robe, “Reputation is very important for a man like me. People need to know that I do what I say I’ll do,” he nodded at the purse, “You did the job; you get paid.”

Gabriel stared at the pouch in disbelief, “Umm, thanks!”

“Pay?” Bling whispered in awe. Her eyes were as wide as The Duke’s arse cheeks.

Vagalad halted them with a palm, “There’s another thing.”

“As Figo said, if you want to kill Vish then that’s between you and him. We won’t stand in your way, sir. Don’t you worry about that. In fact, we might even watch,” Gabriel said.

“You lot have a fucked-up sense of comradery.”

Gabriel and Figo both shrugged. Bling stroked the coin purse amorously.

Vagalad continued, “Well, the thing is, see, after you left, well, Hubert actually started yappin’. He was cagey at first, but when I told him I’d bring that mind-meldy bloke back his tongue started wagging like a cock in a whorehouse. He told me everything I needed to know.”

The trio blinked at him uncomprehendingly.

“I guess what I’m trying to say is, you guys did a good job. Against the odds, you were actually decent. You were- Oh fuck it. The point is, I want you to do another job for me. Or, shall we say, a continuation of the same job,” Vagalad explained.

There was more blinking.

“It turns out that he handed off my shit to a contact in Tindra. Gave it to someone called Goyun, or something like that. This dick nugget was then going to sell what he could and send the profits to Jandrir. Failing that, he plans to go to Jandrir and peddle the stuff there. Now, if you move quickly enough, you might be able to catch the filthy bastard before he flogs my belongings. If not, well, I’ve no doubt your man will be able to get him to talk.”

There was no reaction.

“I’m trying to fucking hire you.”

Gabriel was the first to regain his senses, “You… You want to hire us?”

“Fuck me, you are sharp, aren’t ya?” Vagalad noted.

“You want us to go to Tindra?”

“For fuck’s sake, yes!”

“To find the belongings Hubert stole.”

“Look, I’ll pay you ten times what you’re holding there. Just get me back what’s mine.”

“Right. Right. Just a second,” Gabriel said.

What followed was an in-depth conversation conducted entirely through eyebrow waggling. The subtle nuances and sheer eloquence of the speech cannot be accurately translated into any known language, but the following is a loosely paraphrased version:

“Guys, what do we think?”

“Tindra? It’s risky…”

“It is.”

“And far.”

“True.”

“Vish won’t like it.”

“Is that a positive or a negative?”

“I’m not sure.”

“We do need work though.”

“True. My mum is starting to get pissed off at you guys.”

“She is?”

“Yeah.”

“She hides it so well.”

“She’s good like that.”

“It probably wouldn’t hurt to give her a bit of space, I guess. Plus, I have to say, this is a pretty heavy purse.”

“And he’s offering ten times that. Now that’s a purse I’d like to see.”

“It probably won’t be a purse. I think it will probably come in something more like a sack.”

“Do people use coin sacks? Is that a thing?”

“Yeah. Yeah, must be.”

“Money!”

“Yes, Bling, money.”

“Lots of money?”

“Lots of money.”

“Then… Money!”

“Okay, so we know where Natasha stands. Figo?”

“I’m still not sure. There’s a lot to think about. Yes? Maybe. Oh, I don’t know.”

“Oh shit, he’s staring at us. We should say something.”

“What are you going to say?”

“I don’t know!”

Vagalad watched as foreheads spasmed and eyebrows crawled like caterpillars across faces set deep in concentration.

“What the bloody fuck are you doing?”

“Hmm? Oh, we, just… We’ll take the job,” Gabriel blurted.

“We will?” Figo asked.

“I guess we will?”

“Good,” Vagalad declared, “Time’s a wasting, so you’d best get cracking.”

“Right, just as soon as we’re done with this job.”

Vagalad regarded the pair of mercenaries covered head to toe in animal produce. He shook his head solemnly.

“Just be quick. And remember,” he held up a gargantuan finger, “do not come back without that pearl.”

Gabriel nodded but in truth he had already forgotten about any mention of a pearl.

When Vagalad left they grudgingly got back to work, though their minds were elsewhere. At first, they talked about plans and preparations that had to be made. There were supplies they would need, and perhaps a guide, or maybe just some hired muscle. Soon, though, talk inevitably moved on to the reward, and what each would do with their share. The promised reward was close to sixty gold pieces each. It was a hard amount for them to grasp.

As they were chatting, Vish pranced up to them. He was clearly in good spirits.

“How’s it, stable-bitches? What did I miss?” Vish greeted.

“We’re going to Tindra,” Gabriel said with a smile.

“Cool.”

“That’s right, and there’s nothing you can say to- Wait, what?”

“I said “cool”.” Vish repeated.

“But you hate travelling!” Gabriel reminded him.

“Do I?”

“Yes! With a passion!”

“Well, I was thinking it was about time we had a change of scenery, get out of Gladstone for a bit. When do we leave?”

Gabriel sighed, “We have to finish up here first.”

“No need. I’ve got us covered,” Vish grinned, and tossed a small pouch to Gabriel.

Gabriel stared at it skeptically, “What’s this?”

“Our pay. Plus a little tip.”

“Oh, Vish, you didn’t kill her, did you?” Gabriel groaned.

“What? No!”

“Did she pay you to… You know?” Figo asked.

“Not that either.”

Gabriel scratched his head, “What did you do to her then?”

“Nothing! I just made her some tea, gave her a bit of a back rub… tinkered with her soul a bit.”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake, did you imprint an innocent woman on a chopping board or something?”

“No, no, nothing like that. I just, recalled an earlier version of her, so that she won’t know we were here,” Vish tried to explain.

“I don’t get it,” Gabriel said, “Did you wipe her memories?”

“Nothing as drastic as that. I can’t just wipe people’s memories,” he rolled his eyes, “No, I just tugged an older part of her to the forefront. Think of it like a cloak lying on a table. Now, it lies pretty flat, but you can bunch the fabric up in places and fold it over in others. She hasn’t lost anything, I’ve just tucked away some of the more recent stuff, is all.”

“So, she won’t remember hiring us to clean the stables?” Figo asked.

“It will seem kind of like a dream to her. The memory will be there, but she won’t trust it. If, say, she bumped into us in the street, then she would probably have a sense that she’d seen us before, but she wouldn’t be able to place us. You get it?” Vish clarified.

“Huh. That’s pretty handy,” Figo decided.

Gabriel was yet to be sold, “And you’re sure you haven’t scrambled this poor woman?”

“Of course not! She’ll be just the same as she was this morning. No harm done. No suffering. Just a tiny bit of confusion. She’ll just be a little hazy on the facts of the last day or two.”

“Henry? Henry?” Greta’s voice drifted from the farmhouse.

“Maybe the last week or two,” Vish corrected.

“Henry, darling, where are you, my love?”

“We should probably get going,” the mind-mapper advised.

Gabriel sighed, “I hate you so much.”