NAPLES.
SCENIC PLAQUE: MOUNT VESUVIUS, SEEN BEFORE YOU, IS NOT A VOLCANO AS IT IS ON EARTH. FUN FACT: THE NEAREST HIGH CASUALTY VOLCANO ON ICARUS IS MOUNT SOCOTRA, IN THE SAHARA VOLCANIC REGION.
“You still take time to read those?” asked Chyron.
“Marveling at my capability to read from here,” Non replied.
Chyron considered. “About 20/30 vision, like me. 6/9 if you’ve switched to metric. Normal for equitaurs. Where should we go for canteens, supplies and bandages?”
“The outer shipping center. This way,” said Non. Picoid chirped on his shoulder.
Ᵽ CARE TO TRY AN EXPERIMENT? THAT BLUE SIGN IN THE DISTANCE, ON THE RED BUILDING.
Ñ̰ CAN’T MAKE IT OUT. OH, POTTERY. JUST CLARIFIED. IS THIS VISION SYNCHING?
Ᵽ YES. LET ME KNOW WHEN YOU NEED IT. THE POLARITY SCREEN ON YOUR HANDS JUST GLITCHED.
Ñ̰ CORONIS, YOU CAN IGNORE MY HANDS TODAY. WHY DID YOU PICK THAT NAME?
⸎ IT MEANS OUTER PATTERN. I’M USING THE CORONIS SYMBOL.
“I’ve removed most of the stains on my hands. Punch me if I obsess on them again.”
“I will do so. Did you know those with siblings have better fighting skills? Also, look at this.” Chyron lifted a shod hoof from the dirt. Black fuzz dusted the horseshoe.
“Iron dust is aligning. Should I get shoes, my former sparring partner?”
“Our regeneration helps to deal with hoof wear. Lacking that, yes.”
They reached a canvas shop Non recalled from many years earlier. ‘Was this where I got my feedbag?’
“You still have it! May I see it?” The vendor gestured to Non’s feedbag. Puzos, according to the sign.
“You remember me?” Non handed the feedbag over to the middle-aged dark female human.
“Few equitaur buyers. You and your brother were in the paper with my feedbag in the center between you!” Puzos showed Non a copy: Chyron transfusing Non on the train, several other millionaire’s doctors around them, stitching up the injuries.
“I’d like to buy more. We’re heading east to Eastport,” said Non.
“I’ll make repairs while you shop. Leave whatever is in that Faraday cloth, it isn’t effective below 100 kHz. Needs NiFeMo shielding. Trivial for a long simple shape like that. Go and peruse.”
Non didn’t argue, pulling down a new feedbag for his brother, then pondered whether to get two fancier satchels, two more feedbags or a belt bag. A tarp, spikes and ropes looked good in case of rain.
“We’ll take all this,” said Non at the counter. “My credit card is in the feedbag.”
“I noticed you added many slim pockets inside. Several tungsten carbide items. And these metal rectangles.” The vendor held up one of the curious keys.
“Yes. As a hint, we’re between the Tyrrhenian and the Adriatic,” Non said.
“Between two seas? Oh, is this an octave? BAGFED! Between two C notes. Plus the flats.”
“Very sharp, Puzos. Those thirteen keys let me practice the glockenspiel when I had free time.”
“In that case, the music shop next door might want to make a deal,” said Puzos.
According to Picoid, the music shop owner was an oystercatcher with a beak for smashing shells. Non bought a box of metal rectangles, then returned to Puzos’ shop for custom stitching while they visited a vet. Thirty minutes later, both brothers had a list of health recommendations.
The new feedbag dazzled Non, with custom pockets for all his tools. The strap had extra slots.
Chyron followed Non to the open market. “You had a puzzle hidden in your feedbag?”
“Not really a puzzle, but putting the word bagfed in a feedbag amused me. For remote areas with no net access, no light and no company, music, stave practice and foraging were all I had.”
“So you bought a factory glockenspiel?”
“Refractory. That means it’s highly resistant to wear.” Non pulled out a shiny metal rectangle. “Holes drilled at the 2/9th nodal points. CCC provided her with the hafnium-tantalum alloy, so she cut and tuned them, only to see the contract canceled. Three octaves and a custom feedbag with perfect pockets.”
“Are my former merchant ears hearing second thoughts?”
“It’s the first time I’ve treated myself in years. On Earth, I had bad health and mostly got rid of things. Here, I’m on the road all the time. I stick to what won’t get stolen.” Non flipped the key. Ping. “That's a G5 note. 784 hertz, or 28 squared.” He slid it back into his fancy new feedbag. “It’s weird that my old feedbag is on her wall of trophies next to a Feynman picture.”
Chyron pointed to a ring on his finger with a green stone. “Feynman gave me this piece of serpentine. Met him during a Baja hike. He pointed out fault lines, then picked up a rock off the ground and gave it to me. Years later, I saw him testifying for the Challenger disaster, showing how the O-rings got stiff. You’re in the age range to remember. Here, you were helping me with physical therapy after that big fall when Beek told us about the explosion on Earth. How many warning signs did we ignore to see that lake?”
“Lots. Yeah, the underground lake in the caves near the Lerna Springs nuclear plant. We almost evaded the guards, but then you took that fall. What were we, nine? Fortunately, Lernea had an interest in me, so that egret lady pulled some strings with Hydra Hydro. A week later and Beek tells us about being a NASA doctor during the lunar landings.”
“I found out later that the lake stores heavy water. We were so young back then,” Chyron mused.
“On Earth, airman testing was once done on punch cards. While scanning the last batch of punch cards ever used by the Air Force, I heard about Challenger on the radio. Years later, I’m a satellite programmer for Lockheed Martin. The newspaper had an article about a piece of Challenger washing up. I show it to my office mate and he nearly collapses. Turns out he was the technician that installed those O-rings. Just a teenager at the time. He had to testify before Congress.”
“Testifying.” Chyron sighed, a look of somber resignation on his face. “I've been notified that I must provide evidence regarding Beek's surgery on Lernea. However, the matter of patient-doctor confidentiality stands in the way. Non, while you get shoes from the centaur blacksmith over there, I will contact your lawyers.” Chyron pulled Non into a tight embrace. Non reciprocated despite the discomfort.
Ᵽ I’LL BE WITH CHYRON, MAKING SURE HE’S OKAY.
“That Olympic bar in your hand is hazardous,” said the farrier. “Are you scrapping it?”
“You can see that? I’ll scrap it after the magstorm. I want to be shod, please.”
“Material?” The centaur gestured to a wall of horseshoes as he made measurements.
“Normally, I’d say steel, will that be a problem today? Maybe taps for percussionist practice.”
“You’re a perc? Me too! Percs like to hit things. Steel shoes, then. I’m Kaldin. Looks like you’re gonna travel, so I’d recommend frog padding, too, for the blood flow. What happened to this hoof back here?”
Non had no idea until he looked. “I fell off a train. It’s been a busy few days.”
Over the next 20 minutes, Non lifted his hooves for trimming, clipping, shaping and nailing while reviewing messages that passed filtering by Tycho. GCC provided the Lernea - Silver Screen footage to the Kane Inquirer. Dad sent an update from Pelion. Picoid reported minions seen on the Zeppelin.
‼ WARNING: ARPANET DOWN IN 3 MINUTES.
“Just got a warning message. Got cash? Working on the last shoe here, but I won’t have it done in time. I’ll fit you for an extra set of these gel inserts for your frogs.”
“I’ll pay now.” Later, he clip-clanked around the shop to check them out. “Thanks, Kaldin.”
A nearby shop sold books, paper and bookbinding. “CASH ONLY” was placed in the window.
⸎ WITH HELP FROM YOUR MEMORY IMPRINTING, BOOKBINDERS LIKE THIS MADE PERMANENT VERSIONS.
Ñ̰ I WAS JUST THINKING ABOUT THAT. MY DAYS OF ARRANGING FORGERIES SEEM TO BE OVER.
Chyron stepped up, Picoid on his shoulder, squinting at the bright aurora. “I’ve resupplied. Your shoes look excellent. I wouldn’t mind a hat similar to Bloodfoot’s. What's your stance on leather?”
Non shrugged, “I don't mind leather. The tannery district is that way.”
Queries for leather hats led them to a shop run by a 2.5-meter-tall honey badger in a labeled jacket: SKIVER. A large bicycle advertised CUSTOM LEATHER SEATS. Non browsed through the store, noting the variety of exotic leathers on display and the handwritten signs detailing the types and prices.
Chyron greeted Skiver with a friendly, “Hello! Do you carry any hats that might fit an equine?”
As he looked at the honey badger, a pop-up parrot sent an icy chill through Non, triggering a memory from the book Red Dragon. A scene where Will Graham realized Hannibal Lecter’s guilt.
[https://i.imgur.com/uXeGxay.png] I WISH TO REGISTER A COMPLAINT.
Ñ̰ RECORD EVERYTHING! WHAT ARE THE RULES HERE, CORONIS?
⸎ I HAVE NO IDEA.
“I can make one for you if I don’t,” the honey badger replied. “Are you traveling?”
Chyron indicated a will-not-be-missed status: “Yes, we’re headed to Eastport and then back to Greece.”
“That’s wonderful! Can I get you some tea? Then I can show you my workshop in the back.”
“I would love some tea,” said Chyron.
[https://i.imgur.com/uXeGxay.png] YOU HAVE BEEN APPRAISED. HARVESTABLE: 🌫️ VARIABLE PATTERN.
Ᵽ DO I NEED TO COME OVER THERE?
Ñ̰ BRO, DON’T DRINK ANY TEA.
“Is that a variable pattern?” said Skiver, stepping to Non. “I’ve never seen that. May I touch it?”
Non, aiming to appear nonchalant, nodded his consent. He could feel the badger's paw, surprisingly soft, brush against his back. His discomfort grew, but he did his best to mask it.
⚷ WHY NOT?
Ñ̰ HE FITS A SERIAL KILLER PROFILE. LET’S LEAVE.
Ᵽ I’LL TRY TO FIND SOME POLICE.
“Thanks so much. Well, let me go get that tea.”
“You’re welcome. Those are some claws,” said Non. ‘Why did I say that? Don’t make eye contact.’
The honey badger lifted a serrated claw. “Yes, but it’s hard to beat a good tanner’s knife.”
“Did you know tanner’s knife is an anagram of Frankenstein? We met Dr. Frankenstein earlier today!” said Non, hating himself as he kept speaking.
“I didn’t know that. Victoria buys skins from me sometimes. She even introduced me to my favorite customer. Found out today he’s still alive. Anyways, tea. Do you like honey?”
“I would love some honey,” said Non.
“Give me a minute,” said the badger, walking to the back.
Non bent spokes on the nearby bike, then guided Chyron away, walking back to Tanner’s Street before taking the East road, away from town.
⚷ ARE YOU SURE WE SHOULD RUN AWAY?
Ñ̰ I’M NOT SURE OF ANYTHING. LET’S GET CLEAR. PICOID IS LOOKING FOR POLICE.
Ᵽ DIDN’T FIND ANY, AGENT ANAGRAM. YOUR NEW FRIEND JUST GOT ON A BIKE.
Through Picoid’s eyes, Non watched the honey badger head up Tanner’s street. Skiver talked to someone at a food stand, then he took the East road.
Ñ̰ STOP RECORDING. SAVE EVERYTHING IN SKIVER’S SHOP.
“Wow, aerial view,” said Chyron.
“Let’s move faster. He’s following. Can you gallop?” asked Non.
“I am capable, until such time as I lose consciousness. As for you, until your leg gives way. We are both hobbled, mon frère. Should we engage this individual in combat, we will require assistance.”
Ᵽ THE BADGER STOPPED TO MESS WITH THE WHEEL. YOU’LL NEED TO GO FASTER.
“Let’s try a light canter. I hope the road upslope will slow him down.”
For fifteen minutes, Chyron and Non maintained a hurried pace as the honey badger both gained ground and lost ground as the back wheel of the bicycle wobbled more. Picoid followed from the sky.
“A swift explanation to the moose ahead of us may prove too complex. I suggest we divert off the beaten path into bicycle-treacherous terrain. Towards the river.”
This book's true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.
“I agree, we shouldn’t pull a civilian into this,” said Non, diverging right onto a clover field.
“I am, myself, a civilian!” Chyron glanced over his shoulder as Skiver relinquished his bicycle.
“I’m only an agent because I know tensors. I’m on vacation and only have book training. Isn’t running away enough? Getting opinions should be among best practices for agents.”
║ RULE 3 IN ENCHIRIDION. “KNOW THE LAY OF THE LAND: LAWS, PEOPLE, MOOD.”
“How do you know there’s a river?” The field changed to lemongrass. He grabbed on the run.
“Geology. This land once cradled an ancient floodplain, yet an event of note occurred a million years past to foster a young river.”
“Despite so much immediate action, we sure are hitting a lot of geologic time scales.”
║ I’M READING UP ON ANTHRO HONEY BADGERS. EXTRAORDINARILY STRONG. BULLETPROOF TO A POINT. POOR SWIMMERS.
Ñ̰ IN THE UNBREAKABLE MOVIE, BRUCE WILLIS HAD ALL THAT AND APPRAISAL.
They cantered through scrub and olive trees, drinking from their canteens.
“The area ahead will turn muddy. Stay with me,” said Chyron.
“Can we get a bad patch between him and us?” replied Non.
“That’s what I aim for with help from your flying friend.”
“Should I fight him?”
“The choice rests with you, mon frère. My saddlebags hold a firearm should the situation escalate.”
“You carry a gun?” Non felt surprised.
“I was a rock and crystal merchant in Taos. Here, I deal with restricted substances. It is only natural that I carry a firearm. However, it's merely a 9mm, not exactly a match for a honey badger's resilience.”
After kilometers of running, they slowed to a walk as the ground turned to rock. Far behind them, the honey badger lost ground, falling several times, but always getting back up.
“Behold, the river channel. Unnatural in its creation, yet aged. Picoid postulates it to be a Nautiloid construct, from an epoch prior to humanity,” expounded Chyron.
While trotting alongside it, Non surveyed the chasm. “Think you can manage the rocky slope? We did crazy rock-climbing as colts. I can lend my staff if you need it. I also have my badge.”
“I have snakes, all sorts of rocks and handholds and it’s just 20 meters.” Chyron then deftly mountain-goated down the slope, but stopped halfway. “There’s a really nice tourmaline here.”
Non assessed the outcroppings on the ledge as Picoid perched nearby. “Aren’t you a parkour?”
“A traceur who got hit by a train. Part of parkour discipline requires respecting your health. Tycho, add a safety vector from my back if necessary, but disregard summoning.” Non rubbed his shod hooves on the rock and lifted a boulder to check his arm strength. Assured, he dove into the hexapodal descent, finding handholds and hoofholds with backseat climbing guidance from Picoid.
Chyron reached bottom, then drained his canteen. “I remember when we used to dare each other on Pelion.” He knelt to refill it in the river before draining the canteen again.
Non landed on the smooth slope alongside the river. It was like a flat road. He recalled the hallways in Central Character Control and the similar rock cuboids M. LeBlanc split.
Ᵽ PORTAL DRILLING, YES. BORING STUFF. THE BADGER IS A KILOMETER DOWNRIVER.
“The water tastes sweet,” After refilling, Chyron held his canteen out to Non, but dropped it.
“Too much water, Chy,” commented Caduceus.
“My companion feels the vertigo brought on by my overindulgence. Retrieve the firearm, Asclepius. I dare not stand. Non, please pivot and devise a strategy.”
“What kind of gun?” Non heard a clip click.
“It’s a Sig MazeTaxi with a solvable maze pattern.” Chyron pointed to the ΣΖΞ in the grip. “I bought it for you, but Lagen said you dislike firearms.”
Non set his brother’s saddlebag further away from the river and stripped down himself.
“Care to assist me in portals training? Requires a friend.” He held up the Enchiridion of Ñ̰.
“By all means,” Chyron responded, squinting as he lined up his gunsight on the distant badger.
“Portals will kill you. That’s the initial warning. If anything goes wrong, contact a healer.”
“Got you covered.”
“Excellent. First, outline positions for two portals.” Non put up two circular screens, one 5m away over the river, the other up where the badger would soon be.
“Looks like a sphere,” said Chyron.
“Calculate the joining tensors. Positions are relative to you.” Non read more to himself while getting the tensors, which he then sent to the checker.
║ CONGRATULATIONS! YOUR PROPOSED PORTAL PASSES TUBULARITY CHECKS AND IS SURVIVABLE. DEPLOY?
Non put an illusory floor under the nearby portal, over the river, then deployed. As on the train, subdividing psiquads covered Non’s spheroids, then the cow fractal nautilus spiral stretched away for a 4D spatial connection bounded by a smooth fractal edge.
“This will never cease to astound me, mon frère,” Chyron remarked.
Skiver stopped at the far portal, suspiciously peering through it at the equitaur brothers.
[https://i.imgur.com/DvVmiCW.png]
“What’s this?” asked Skiver.
“It’s a portal. Where’s your jacket?” asked Non, noting its removal.
“Is it a trap?” said Skiver, ignoring the question.
[https://i.imgur.com/uXeGxay.png] YOUR PORTAL HAS BEEN APPRAISED.
“Maybe. Why are you chasing us?”
“Why did you run away?”
“Because you scared me.”
“I offered tea and you ran away.”
“Yes, I know, and that was terrible of us. Sorry. My brother wanted to stay and get a hat.”
“What do you know about me?”
“As your friend, I know nothing about you beyond your name and species, Skiver the Honey Badger.”
“What makes you think we’re friends?”
“I’m using a Galactic Core handbook that requires everyone to be friendly. When I used a lesser version of this book, an aggressive otyugh got gelatinized into gravy. Do not taunt the Enchiridion.”
“You’re the taur that saved those rich people.”
“Opinions are mixed about whether I accomplished anything.”
Skiver chucked a rock through the portal, hitting Non’s head and drawing blood. The long claws assisted the speed like a jai alai xistera. Chyron shot back with his gun, hitting Skiver in the chest.
“Hey, ow! What was that for?” asked Non, feeling the new wound.
Skiver brushed the bullet off. “You need a bigger gun. We’re not friends. The book doesn’t care.” Then he turned and walked away from the portal.
“So now he’s leaving?” asked Chyron.
“He’s trying a running jump.”
Skiver sprinted towards the far portal, leaping. At the last second, Non angled the near portal downwards. The honey badger splashed into the river and got carried away by the current.
║ WARNING! LIVE TRANSFER IS NOT YET AUTHORIZED IN THIS LESSON. PORTALS LOCKED UNTIL A CASE REVIEW.
The portals vanished.
“Could you watch for him, Picoid?” Non turned to look at his brother.
“I should be okay in fifteen minutes or so. Sorry. Let me look at your head.”
“Oh, right, head injury from the rock. I’m bleeding.” He knelt for Chyron, who poured water which stung him and a gel that soothed him. During the battlefield surgery, Non mentally discussed a plan with Picoid as he moved items from his feedbag.
“Skiver climbed out a half kilometer away. He’s on hands and knees heaving up water,” said Picoid. “And now he’s walking.”
Non put large gray signs on the stone road that Skiver had to walk through, like Don Adams at the start of Get Smart. YOU CAN STILL LEAVE. BE WARY OF TRAPS. VALUE YOUR AIR. GO AWAY. Skiver walked through all the signs, so Non readied his next trick.
With the precision of a parade horse, Non walked back over the rocky road, clacking his hooves with a rapid percussion punctuated by bangs from Deathtrap before spinning it about himself.
The honey badger stopped as Non approached.
“Why are you doing this?” yelled Skiver.
“Why am I keeping you from hugging me? You’re too clingy.”
“I am NOT clingy,” roared the honey badger.
A repeating metallic C note alarm started.
“That’s the friend zone alarm. I’d run away.” In front, Deathtrap twirled through Confusatron Extended.
The pitch shifted up to an even faster E note. Non put a large FINAL WARNING screen in front of Skiver and tossed Icosian to the right out of sight near a choke point in the road of rock. On his back, Picoid stopped tapping the glockenspiel keys and dropped them back in the feedbag. Non added a fake staff outline to his back, pulled his feedbag around in front, then clanked Deathtrap to the rock.
Skiver backed up as the sound stopped and the screen vanished.
“Please just go away,” said Non.
The honey badger charged anyway. As soon as he hit the narrow spot, Non expertly spun Deathtrap to hold Skiver’s attention just as Icosian shoved the honey badger into the river. Non watched to make sure the current sent Skiver far downstream.
“Picoid, could you go to the top of the rocks and watch for him?” The woodpecker flew off as Non retrieved Icosian, checking the Faraday tube before placing it on his back and heading back to Chyron.
“He's quite the madcap, isn't he?” observed Chyron, shaking his head in disbelief. “A stroke of luck we decided against venturing into his rear chamber.”
Ᵽ HE’S OUT, ABOUT A KILOMETER AWAY. HEAVING UP WATER.
Ñ̰ STAY UP THERE, OUT OF HIS SIGHT. BUT TAP A ROCK TO FALL BEHIND HIM WHEN HE GETS PAST THE CHOKE POINT.
Ᵽ WILL DO.
Ñ̰ TYCHO, PREPARE A BULLSEYE OVER THE BADGER’S LEFT EYE WITH AREAL TRACKING—EYES, NOSE, UVULA.
║ GOT IT. ALSO, I’M READY FOR YOUR PARKOUR.
⚷ I’M READY TO TAKE ANOTHER SHOT.
Skiver approached warily on his third try, looking at the wall for traps. He whirled as a rock fell behind him, but turned back to face the equitaur brothers.
“You’re not going to scare me off,” said Skiver, picking up speed.
“But you seem scared. Jumpy, even. You’ll learn eventually. My next trick is a doozy,” said Non.
[https://i.imgur.com/uXeGxay.png] YOU HAVE BEEN APPRAISED.
“What the heck is areal tracking?” asked Skiver.
“Relative simplex volumes give spatial coordinates for an arbitrary point. The bullseye pattern now over your left eye tracks with four points on your head.
“Spatial what? Actually, I don’t care. I will kill you all,” said the honey badger.
BLAM. The honey badger’s left eye erupted in red from Chyron’s perfect shot. Non ran forward, clacking on the road, jumping off the rock wall with help from his badge, then another leap towards the river, kept on course by a vector from Icosian on his back. As he did a run by, he slammed Skiver’s right knee with Deathtrap, heading downriver before a sliding spinabout.
Skiver snarled, a paw over his bloody left eye, then limped toward Non.
“If you jump in the river, I will not pursue you,” said the agent.
The honey badger surged forward, swiping at Non. The taur backed up, block, block, retreat, dodge, then slammed Deathtrap into Skiver’s nose, sending him reeling back. But then Skiver shook his head and came at him again.
Non enjoyed the superior reach of the Olympic bar. Then a block failed and the middle of the compromised weight bar shattered. Much like bent spaghetti creates pasta shrapnel, the Olympic bar launched jagged pieces of steel at Non’s shoulder. Half of the broken bar clattered to the ground.
Skiver followed with a vicious, painful slash to Non’s torso. “Ha! The predator wins again.”
Non defensively retreated, wondering if he was dead.
⸎ HEALTH BAR ACTIVATED. THE WOUND ISN’T LETHAL.
║ USE ME. I’LL CENSORBAR THE BADGER’S RIGHT EYE WITH AREAL TRACKING.
Picoid flew down to pester the honey badger on the blind side.
Non saw the metal stuff inside the feedbag had kept the claw swipe from ripping open his abdomen. He batted away a badger swipe with the metal club. Each time Skiver removed the eyepatch with a touch, Tycho put it back a moment later. The honey badger flailed at the equitaur with more claw swipes.
“It’s time to show you my badge.” Non blocked a swipe with his club and punched into Skiver’s mouth. Skiver bit down on the forearm as Non surged to send them both into the river.
Ñ̰ AREAL TRACKING. KEEP MY BADGE IN HIS THROAT. DRAG HIM DOWN.
Skiver got a claw into the side of Non’s lower body before the taur got free. The agent clung to Icosian to stabilize himself in the river current before getting out. He sighed, then ran back to Chyron and the supplies to grab the rope and drop his feedbag.
“You’re hurt, Non. Kneel down and–”
With the rope, Non dove back into the river, returning to the drowning, choking, thrashing honey badger. He tied the rope onto the honey badger’s leg when the thrashing stopped.
“I would have let him die. Self-defense.” Chyron finished putting more surgical staples into his brother.
Ᵽ LET ME STAY HIDDEN. WON’T HELP US IF HE KNOWS I’M HERE. YOU’RE LOOKING FOR RULE 17.
Ñ̰ THANKS. WE’RE THINKING ALONG THE SAME LINES.
“Rule 17: If possible, bring a criminal to justice.” Non looked at the claw-dulled, bandaged, blindfolded, tarp-wrapped and tied-up honey badger. “We don’t even know if you’ve done anything, Skiver. I gave you every opportunity to walk away.” He winced at another staple, then returned to consulting the Enchiridion of Ñ̰. “Now we have to figure out what to do with you.”
“You could let me go,” Skiver suggested.
“We tried, predator. Over and over,” Non snapped,
“The new glockenspiel saved you,” said Chyron, hoping to calm his brother. “What now?”
Caduceus spoke. “Ten kilometers upriver, a large lake features the town of Nándori, which dates back to the Nautiloid era. Found it on a geological map.”
“Thank you, Caduceus, for a copasetic solution. I shall drag him upstream and turn him over to the authorities. By the book.” Non exhaled heavily as he resolved a plan of action.
[https://i.imgur.com/uXeGxay.png] YOU HAVE GAINED APPRAISE. SECRETLY SEE ABILITIES SUBJECT TO HARVEST.
ᴀ CALL ME APPRAISE. I’M SECTOR 1929229929. I HAVE A COMPLAINT PREPARED. UPLOADING.
Horrifying specifics of ninety homicides flooded Non's mind link—an onslaught of images, names, dates, and methods to hide each heinous Harvest. For a moment, the brothers, snakes and Picoid made eye contact, caught up by the carnage. Non held a finger to his lips for silence, gesturing to Skiver with a bandaged, stapled forearm.
Ñ̰ THIS EVIDENCE IS INADMISSIBLE. BUT I CAN GET HIS JACKET. PICOID, I MAY HAVE AN ASSIGNMENT FOR YOU.
As Non navigated to Skiver’s jacket, he charted a path through murky ethics. His memory of the leather shop provided handwriting samples. Donning gloves, he found a notebook in a jacket pocket.
In his advisory team listings, he located a Nándori bookbinder named Gradaran.
A guard watched as two equitaurs approached her waterfall outpost. She signaled the guard above as a woodpecker landed near her. Gradaran, the otter librarian, had walked by her a few minutes earlier.
“Hello, I am Picoid. I noticed you’re both a law enforcer and a honey badger. Perchance, do you know of another honey badger named Skiver, a leather worker in Naples?”
“Is that who’s in the tarp between the taurs?” asked the suspicious female honey badger guard.
“Maybe,” said Picoid.
“Yeah, I know the name. A cousin. Why is he tied up?”
“We don’t know his motivation, but he attacked us multiple times. May we turn him over to you?”
“Do your friends plan to run if I go sour on this? You’re the sacrificial bird?” She watched as the taur with something across his upper back embraced the otter.
“Precisely. The first honey badger messed them up.”
“I’m Corrie. Tell your friends to head up the ramps over there. The town’s close to the top.”
Ñ̰ MISSION ACCOMPLISHED. THANKS, PICOID.
In the town jail, Non perused his statement. Chyron and Picoid spoke to other officers. An anthro baiji, a river dolphin, documented Non’s wounds.
“I’m ready to sign. May I sign in front of you?”
“Yes, but may as well get the assistant chief. *chirp*” A few more chirps and a large seal waddled in. Or sea lion? ‘It has ear flaps, sea lion.’
“Where’s the chief? I’ll sign this as Agent Non Sequitur.” He did so.
“She’s a nautiloid, in the lake part of town. The magnetic storm has turned off mobility options.”
Non slid over the statement for the baiji and sea lion to scrutinize.
“One more thing. That’s the jacket in my statement. I’ll mark the area map.”
He added “X-Jacket” on his map.
“Billfast,” said the baiji. “Assistant Chief, you’ll want to look at Skiver’s journal. On loose pages there’s names, races, dates, hides collected, burial locations. Billfast Badger at the top of the list, forty years ago. Heretic Throne Park. Lime tree, under a banded hematite.”
The sea lion moved to get a look.
“Tell Corrie we may have found the remains of her father. Agent, did you look at this?”
“I figured I shouldn’t touch anything in there,” said Non. The baiji and sea lion exited the room.
That much was true. Non hadn’t mentioned [https://i.imgur.com/uXeGxay.png] or Appraise in his statement, but the information had to get out. Skiver’s jacket had item notes. A digital version of the handwriting fit on Picoid’s legbands, along with small paper samples.
As Picoid flew to meet Gradaran, Non programmed a brief listing for each victim.
Gradaran finished the forgery before leaving town to meet Non. After a hug, the otter placed the forged pages into the journal and jacket.
ᴀ FORTY YEARS AGO, DR. MAYHEM AND SKIVER DRUGGED BILLFAST BADGER IN THIS CAMPSITE, THEN MURDERED HIM.
Non ignored the running commentary of a murder.
“I remember this place. We had family gatherings here,” said Corrie. “Heretic Throne Park. A long time ago, the lake level was higher. And right here, these ruins, this was the throne of a lake nautiloid. The ocean nautiloids used portals to cut a channel and invade.”
An anthro barbet, a type of water dog, didn’t want to hear about ancient history. “Lime trees over here.”
“What’s that reddish rock?” asked Non.
“BIF. Banded iron formation from the Oxygen Catastrophe. We didn’t have that here,” said Chyron. “Someone brought this rock here from Earth.”
The barbet sniffed at the air, then moved the heavy rock. “A knife?”
The tanner’s knife had SKIVER inlaid in the handle. Non guessed Mayhem had left it for his “leave clues behind” flaw. Chyron commented on non-acidic soil as a skull emerged. Corrie recognized a belt buckle among the bones as belonging to her father.
‘That’s our cue to trot off.’