CHAPTER 7: PEPPERED WITH QUESTIONS

As usual, Mitty awoke starving. It was a familiar feeling, and one that brought on that feeling of acceptance that you could no longer lay idly about and had to get up and do something about it. Still sprawled on the floor, covered in a not small amount of dust and ash, she rolled over, pushing herself up with her hands.

Oh right. She had forgotten she was human again. It was very disorienting, changing back and forth so many times. Still, there was no feeling of unease in her current form, and everything felt perfectly natural, as though she were born like this. Well, the soreness she felt now that she was moving wasn’t natural, but it was easily attributed to yesterday’s excursion. What a disaster. At least she’d made a friend, Mitty thought, smiling to herself.

Pushing herself onto her feet with help from the chair nearby, Mitty immediately wished she hadn’t, as a splitting headache made itself known, manifesting full force. She immediately let herself down into the chair, finding a steak in front of her, still warm, but not hot. Beside it was a scrap of paper with some scrawlings on it that had no semblance of writing, though the intended words came to mind regardless. It read:

Mitty,

If you’re reading this, then that means I am very smart, and also good. Because I am good, I heated up the steak as you showed me, and I didn’t eat any of it at all. Don’t even check.

She eyed the steak, that had the smallest sliver taken off the side, hardly noticeable. He was an awful liar, even in writing. She continued,

I have gone back to the docks because the harbourmaster said he’d give me extra if I fetched for the whole day. I like fetching things. I even get paid to do it! I left the money from yesterday on the table if you want to do anything with that, though I took some because apparently you can exchange it with these loud guys on the street for meat. I’ll be back at sunset probably.

P.S. Sorry about yesterday, I didn’t mean to hurt you.

Yup, she felt bad about that last part. She should apologize to him later, it wasn’t really his fault. She resolved to do so after she finished her grand plans for the day. Which was… nap? Not entirely sure, Mitty stretched out her still sore muscles and started on the steak, which was still quite good. The potatoes didn’t reheat quite as well, but were still pretty creamy. All in all, the best food she’d had in forever. That reminded her, first thing to do today was deciding on supper.

Mitty retrieved the recipes that Dantes left on the counter and perused the book of recipes. It wasn’t really so much a book as a sheaf really, just loose paper bound together with twine. Powering through the headache, she found quite a selection, and even recognized a few things like pancakes, which she’d always wanted to try.

Deciding on pancakes, she took note of the ingredients. Eggs, butter, milk and flour were no problem, though she’d have to check if she had enough milk. Likewise, she was pretty sure she had salt and sugar somewhere, but baking powder was not something she was familiar with. She’d have to check the spice drawer again to make sure.

A knock at the door interrupted her thoughts.

“Hello? Mitts? Are you here? Yuck, it’s filthy.”

A somewhat concerned Delphi stood near the entrance with a scrunched nose.

“Didn’t think you’d be up so soon, Mitts. You were pretty drained yesterday.” She let herself into the kitchen.

“Hmm? What do you mean? Is that why I’m so sore?”

“Oh, I forgot. A cat probably wouldn’t know, much less a voyager cat.”

“Voyager cat? Stop being all mysterious and just answer my questions, Delphi.”

“Hehe, sorry, you’re just too easy to tease, Mitts. Ohhh, I love pancakes. I recommend that recipe any day. Though you might have a hard time finding sugar. You can leave that out and replace it with grated fruit,” she said, cleanly sidestepping the questions.

“And you won’t be getting anything if you don’t tell me why I fainted like a sick kitten with a cold yesterday.”

“Nooo! Fine! Just a little bit though. So you know what mana is right?”

Mitty nodded. “Yeah it’s that scent under the other smells, right? The one that smells like nothing.”

“Hmm. Maybe? I hear some people experience it differently, but most just feel it in the air. Anyhoo, those clothes you’re still wearing run on it to power enchantments and stuff. Usually they run off ambient mana, but the runes in my store use all of that, so it must have switched over to taking mana from you directly.”

“Aww. I really like these. The black suits me, I think. These shoes are cool too. They make me taller.”

“It usually isn’t a problem. My shop is an outlier, and the mana your clothes take shouldn’t be that much. I expect the world you come from doesn’t have magic?”

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“World? What do you mean?” Delphi’s expression tightened into a serious face. She looked better with that playful grin, Mitty reflected.

“You aren’t from this world Mitty. Don’t play stupid, I knew you weren’t the moment you read the shop sign.” Seeing Mitty’s still perplexed face tripped her up a bit. “Oh? You didn’t know? Yeah, this isn’t the world you came from. It must be confusing for you. Did you just get here?”

“Yesterday was the first day, I think. Probably. Is there no way to go back?”

“I don’t think so Mitts, voyagers never return to a world once they leave. Look, this is important. Don’t tell anyone you’re a voyager. If the Sultan got his hands on you, you’d never leave his palace. Though maybe since you’re a cat… no it would still be better if no one knew.”

“Why would he lock us up? Is he an animal person?”

“I mean, I heard he is, but that’s not the point. Is this your first voyage? It must be if you don’t know this. Each time a voyager travels worlds, they gain a special talent for something. Sometimes, it’s something silly, like being good at juggling coconuts on a unicycle, but sometimes voyagers can create things that no one else can create. For example, the Lupan kingdom to the east wasn’t around a hundred years ago. Apparently, a voyager led a small group of warriors, and managed to carve out part of the Hoth kingdom to make their own country. Some people say the voyager could imbue magic into his words to make things true even if they weren’t, though I doubt that part. If the Sultan finds out he has a pair of voyagers who haven’t developed their talents yet, then he will certainly force you into a contract and keep you as slaves. If you’re lucky. I guess it depends on what your talent is.”

“So you mean I’m super talented? I already knew that, Delphi. How’d you know anyway? I don’t think I told you anything about where I’m from.”

Her grin returned, and it was quite welcome after that heavy air that had been present until now. “Well another talent of all voyagers is they can read and understand anything, but it works in a bit of a weird way. It only translates the intended message of the one who wrote it. The sign is written in eastern desert worm script; it looks like decorative trim to anyone else. I figured it was more likely that you were a voyager than a worm, though they can get pretty smart when they’re old enough. You aren’t a worm, are you?” Delphi said, squinting, as though that might unveil a disguise.

Feeling somewhat outsmarted, Mitty looks for something to make herself busy. Cleaning off the counter, she inquires, “So Delphi, what are you doing here anyway? Don’t you have a shop to run or something?”

“Just seeing how my friend was doing.” That earned her a sceptical look from Mitty. “What? I really did come here to check on you…”

“And…?”

“Ok, maybe I also came to ask for some help with something,” Delphi said, nervously poking her fingers together under the table.

“You came here to USE me? How unscrupulous. Immoral. Does our friendship mean nothing?"

“Well, err, I didn’t mean it…” she stumbled. Mitty snorted back her laughter, but the jig was up.

“Ha! That’s what you get for teasing me. What’s up Delphi? I’ll help you out if you help me with these pancakes.”

“Fine fine. I’ll get you in touch with someone to clean this place up for cheap too. You might have trouble replacing the enchanted timber though. I was hoping you could help me with this.”

Delphi carefully pulled a small wrapped bundle out from under her cloak. Unpacking it onto the table revealed three leather bound notebooks.

“The Moonlight of Madness, Part 2?” Mitty questioned, reading the title of the first book.

“Oh yes, the author of these books was Voyager too, with a great gift for umm… certain aspects of writing. I’ll pay you to transcribe these into common, or really any other language. I’ve been dying to read these since I got my hands on them, but I haven’t been able to, as this language is not one of this world.

“That’s fine and all, but there’s one tiny, minute, yet ever so important detail that you missed,” said Mitty.

“And what’s that? I’ll pay you pretty well if that’s the problem. I have more money than I know what to do with anyway.”

“No. I can’t write common. Or any other language you know.”

“Oh…”, Delphi deflated. “Right. Just because you can read it, doesn’t mean you can write something I’d recognize. I was really looking forward to those…” Delphi looked very disappointed.

Feeling a bit bad for her first friend, Mitty ventured, “I mean, if you want, I could read it out to you...?”

Delphi’s face lit up for a moment, before reddening greatly. “Uhh, maybe not Mitty, I just don’t…”

“Nonsense. Quick, fetch that pen and paper and we can start right away.”

And so Mitty read the books aloud as Delphi scribbled furiously to keep up…

***

“So here I was, clinging to a piece of driftwood, days away from the closest island, tossing among waves higher than the Sultan’s palace, almost passed out from exhaustion. Were we sailing any further north, I’d have frozen to death by then, but we were sailing the southern spice routes, so the waters were warm. I almost died there anyway, mind you, and as my sight was fading, I hear a voice. ‘Need a hand?’. I see a man, standing there-“

“Ye said this was a real story, Turaq. How can a man be standin’ on the water in a storm?” a second dockhand cut in.

Turaq gives the interrupting dockhand an annoyed look. “I ain’t lying, Cooper, a man dressed plain as you are I crouched next to me as I clung to that piece of driftwood.” The three dockhands were crouched conspiratorially around a barrel acting as a temporary lunch table.

“Oh, and I suppose you took his hand and you both sailed away into the sunset on the back of a giant turtle.”

“Aw piss off, Cooper, if you don’t wanna believe me you don’t gotta listen. I’m done eating anyhow.” The solidly built man got up from the box he was resting on and made his way to the ship they spent all morning unloading.

Dantes jogged to catch up to him. “So? What happened next?”

“Hmm? Oh, you’re that worker that just started yesterday huh? Dantes, right? Do you actually believe my story?” One of the man’s thick eyebrows raised just a bit.

“You said it was true though.”

“Aye, I did, and it is. Cooper was right too though, I was exaggeratin’ just a bit. There wasn’t really a whole shoal of kraken I think, just one. It was pretty small too, as far as they come, but it were smart enough to just put a hole in our ship and let us sink. Anyway, the part about the man is true. He took my hand, and suddenly he was gone. But soon as he were gone, the howlin’ winds died, and the sea calmed, and I could feel strength in me arms and a current at me back, and soon enough, a ship headed here fished me out of the drink. Never went back to sailin’ again, though maybe once more before I’m too old…” The dock worker shook his head with a sad smile.

“What did he look like?” Dantes asked. It got him a look from the man, a real look with intent to understand behind it.

“You’re too trusting, lad. Aye, what I said was true, I think, but even I barely believe it meself, and I was there. What did he look like? As normal as they come. Slightly pale skin, brown hair, and eyes that could see more than any man’s, perhaps. I remember him wearing a tattered cloak and travelling clothes like any other that’s been on the road for months. Walked up like he were strolling to the bakery in the mornin’. I bet you couldn’t throw a rock into a crowd without hittin’ someone who looks jus’ like him. Well anywhere north of New Vairon, I guess.”

“Wow. I hope I can learn to do that someday. I’d be able to fetch anything.” Imagining all the possibilities that would open up to him, Dantes heaved a stack of boxes down the gangplank, lost in fanciful daydreams.

***

“Here you go, a little extra, as promised, and also, the quartermaster left you this…” The harbourmaster was short, but built like a barrel, so he had to lean out of his chair as he handed over Dantes’ payment, along with a slip of paper he had stashed away behind the counter. “You do read, right?”

“Oh yes. I write, too. What is it?” Dantes asked curiously, unfolding the piece of paper.

“The quartermaster of the Spitfire was impressed by your strength. He has a job for you at the address on that paper tonight at midnight, if you’re interested,” the harbourmaster said in a hush.

“What sort of job?” Dantes also adopted the hushed tone, though he didn’t exactly know what the point was, it just felt right.

“The sort where asking questions about it could get you into trouble. If you’re interested, be there at midnight, if not, I never said anything. I know the man, his jobs pay… more than most.” The harbourmaster casually opened a drawer, revealing a bulging leather purse and a glint of silver. “Now, you’d best be off if you have anything to take care of before then. And remember, not a word of this to anyone.”

Dantes left the office, slightly disgruntled, but curiosity pique. And even more than that, eager for supper.