Forty-Two

The Meaning of Everything, but Not Really

Mayor Keong nursed his bruised jaw, a parting gift from Skull who was not happy with the way things were progressing in his town, that had swollen enough that he could only speak out of one side of his mouth. Why did everyone think that Goulcrest was their town? Keong hadn’t clawed his way up to the position he was in for every leader of a shadowy operation to lay claim to what was rightfully his.

He’d been juggling different groups for so long that he hardly remembered to what all he belonged to. That was why he had Chozen; it was also why he’d ordered Chozen killed via his use of a code phrase with the bandit Chibot. The man had been unraveling since the moment that Tooth had appeared. It was only a matter of time before he cracked. He’d even watched from his window as Chibot had beheaded him. His reappearance had been shocking, to say the least.

Chozen could quote not only every organization that was in Goulcrest, but he also knew the days and times of their meetings, who ran the organization, and what his and the clerk’s aliases were in those groups. Keong could only recall a handful such as the Bones and Skull, who were intent on overthrowing the government at any cost, the Bloody Barstools, who just wanted to create and sell alcohol that wasn’t taxed by the empire, and card club, a group that met once a week to play various games such as bridge and Kings on a Corner. He’d actually met with another group or two recently, but he couldn’t for the life of him remember which ones they were. They were all the same. He’d relied so much on Chozen for everything, and he almost regretted ordering him killed, which was why he couldn’t believe the man was still alive.

Keong had gone down to look at the head that his underlings had placed in a jar with pickle juice, and he himself had confirmed that the man that Chibot had killed was not, according to the head in his jar, Chozen. If he had to swear on his life that he had witnessed his clerk’s death then he would do so, even with evidence to the contrary. He had a report of Constable Guro being killed, and yet he was still here doing his job acting as though nothing had happened.

Just like Chozen.

Keong had noticed one thing. If someone else was with him the man acted like his old self. He bumbled, stumbled, stuttered, and puttered like a man so tightly wound that he might explode at the sound of a mouse fart. BUT, when he was alone with Keong the clerk bristled with confidence, he spoke smoothly, and wouldn’t flinch if an orc held a dagger to his throat. Something had happened to Chozen. Keong just didn’t know what.

What he did know was that he had to move the raid’s timeline up. He spun his chair around to look out of his expansive window and looked at all the work that Tooth was having done in the town. Oh, he could dress it up to look like the Empire had sent orders, but Keong was no fool. Those poles that they were installing did more than light up the streets at night. Again, he was absolutely clueless as to what their true purpose was, but he was positive that it was something nefarious.

His spies informed him that the mysteriously younger-looking Tooth was now meeting every merchant and making strange offers to which most were agreeing. It was bad enough that he had illegally installed some sort of plant growing stone in the center of the town park; which had blossomed and bloomed into a place of botanical beauty in order to garner favor with the townspeople. Tooth should have come to him so that the mayor could have attached his name to it and gotten some credit, but the old man had cut him out of the gift. The fool hadn’t even had any fanfare to go along with it. He’d just slapped a plaque on the base of the gem and left it be.

Keong had tried to have the plaque removed and replaced with one in which he claimed credit for the grow stone, but his workers could not so much as scratch a brick let alone remove the brass plaque. The bastich. Taking all the credit when he should have shared it. That, if for no other reason, let Keong know that Tooth wasn’t human. He was a monster. Not on the order of Skull, but he was close. Skull never shared credit either. It was all about his agenda. There had never once been a ceremonial award given out at a single meeting, or any other types of honors that Keong could hide in his secret awards room. What was the point of belonging to a clandestine organization if you had nothing to show for it?

He watched the workers continue to put in the poles until his office door opened and Chozen came in carrying a bowl of ice, a towel, a flagon marked by the image of a wagon, and a small red tablet. Keong turned his chair slowly to face his aide and stared at the contents he had on his tray.

“What is all this,” Keong asked through a clamped jaw.

“As you can see, I brought you ice and a towel so that you can get the swelling on your jaw down. It looks very painful if I do say so myself.” Keong scanned the man’s face to see if he was being serious or mocking him. He couldn’t tell.

“What,” he forced himself to say as he pointed at the red tablet, “Is that?”

“That is a healing tablet, sir.” Chozen flashed him a kindly grin, wearing the kind of face that a loving grandmother would use to look at an ailing grandchild.

“If you have a healing tablet, what do I need the ice for?” Keong suspected a trap.

“I brought the ice and towel because I don’t believe that you will take the pill.” He paused just enough to give Keong pause. “I’ll put the pellet in the flagon.”

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“The flagon with the figure of a wagon? Why?” Keong grew concerned. “Why wouldn’t I want the pellet you placed in the flagon?”

“Because you’ll probably find it hard to swallow. I do apologize, I didn’t have a pestle to grind it before I placed it in the drinking vessel, making it easier for you to swallow.”

“So, in pain, I must wallow, because you fear I cannot swallow? Pass me the pellet so I can put it in my gullet before I mull it over too long.” Keong was growing more frustrated by the moment.

“Pass you the flagon with the wagon that holds the brew that can cure you?” Chozen questioned.

“Yes, erm, no! I now fear the pellet is poison,” Keong cried.

“You would doubt your aide de’camp, who has been honest and true? What have I done to make you believe I would poison you? I swear that the brew is true!” Chozen bore an indignant look on his face.

“Yes, yes I do! Drain the flagon, down the pellet, and prove the potion pure.” Keong raised the flagon towards Chozen, who took the mug and downed it in one long gulp.

“I have proven the potion pure, but I fear you will see no cure. That was the last of the pellets that healed to have endured. I shall requisition more. Please,” Chozen said with a bow as he left the office, “Better put a chill on your cheek before your teeth grow too weak. It just doesn’t do to irritate a tooth! Enjoy your ice and towel, my lord.”

The mayor watched his clerk leave. Had that twerp just outwitted him? Could he have been cured by a simple drink? He could run down to a merchant and purchase some more pellets or an actual potion, but he would have to go out into public and people would see his swollen jaw. Then they would ask questions. Normally he would have sent Chozen out to do that for him, but he had caught the snide look on the man’s face as he’d intimated about the dangers of irritating a tooth. He knew the implications of that seemingly benevolent statement.

His man had been compromised. Had Chozen found out his plans to have him eliminated? Did he suspect that it was because of the poison? He knew that Keong needed a scapegoat, but the mayor doubted that the man would have ever believed that his leader would order him killed. And yet. . . he had. He had to admit that, but he couldn’t believe for a moment that Chozen had ever suspected a thing.

He couldn’t have, and that man who was here with him now could not be the man he’d sent to Chibot’s camp. In just the same way that Trond Guro was no longer Trond Guro. Could there be doppelgängers about Goulcrest? It wasn’t impossible to conceive of, it was also possible that they were undead of some type. Gods knew that at one time Goulcrest was a haven for the undead. Now that he thought about it, Tooth had a lot of qualities that the undead had. He was formidable, and more importantly, he was younger than he was before; like a man who had recently eaten the spirits of a few men like the clerk and the constable. He’d thought that Skull was an undead for quite some time, and the man’s insistence on having the mayor kill Tooth reinforced his growing belief that there were now two very powerful undead vying for control of Goulcrest.

There was no way he could tell what the truth was, but the meaning of it all spelled doom for him no matter which of the two won. Skull only used Keong to move weapons and personnel to other key locations in the empire and, so far as he could tell, after the raid, there would enough of Skull’s underling Bones in town to make him unnecessary. Skull could just install a figurehead that didn’t require payouts and protection. That meant a shallow grave out in the bandit’s woods since the old body crevice had been hijacked. That brought him some comfort. At the very least he would receive a burial. Unless Skull reanimated him and used his corpse for nefarious purposes.

How in the hell had he become so entangled in so many evil schemes? All he’d wanted to do was run some backwater town, take some bribes, and enough kickbacks that he’d be able to retire to a city somewhere outside of the Empire. Now he was up to his neck in intrigue and outlandish plots to last him several lifetimes. Too bad it looked like the life he’d been allotted was going to be truncated. His jaw ached the more he thought about his predicament. He hadn’t realized it, but he’d been biting down on his jaw more and more thereby increasing his pain. Right then he’d have given his left hand to ease the pain in his jaw if it wouldn’t have caused him even more pain.

Then, as if on cue, Chozen reentered the room. He had another tray, which he sat before his leader.

“What’s this,” Keong asked as he stared at the tray suspiciously.

“I found another pellet, and I found a pestle and mortar; so I put it in the pestle and pounded it into powder.” The clerk said with a smile.

“You pounded the pellet to produce a powder?” The mayor asked carefully.

“Yes, I could have brought the pill with a dill, but I believed your jaw to be too fickle to eat a pickle. I also considered some venison to go with the medicine but believed your mouth too ill to tackle a pill. So, I did what I thought I must and ground the pill into dust.” Chozen waved his hand over the tray’s contents like a magician who had just produced flowers from a handkerchief, and Keong sighed.

“I don’t want to get into this with you all over again, Chozen. I don’t want to argue about how a pill with a dill is better than medicine with some venison, or how you could put the powder into some clam chowder, or hear about a fox wearing socks on top of some rocks serving powder pills and green yams,” Keong yelled, veins bulging in his neck. “Take the pellet away, ground or not! I wouldn’t take anything from you if it came with five pounds of gold!”

“I’m truly sorry you feel that way, sir,” Chozen said with a bow. He retrieved his tray and stepped back. “I won’t bother you anymore, my lord. I just want you to know that you do have a visitor. I didn’t want to let him in for fear of causing you pain from talking, but I can see that you have no issues speaking.” He bowed, opened the office door, and stepped out into the hallway.

“H-h-he’ll s-see you now, S-sir,” Chozen stuttered nervously as he always used to do and Keong practically had a conniption fit as his jaw clamped down so hard that he swore he heard some teeth crunching.

The mayor stood, intent on closing his door before his unknown visitor could see him, but before he had rounded his desk the figure of a man appeared in his doorway. The man was under six feet and was of average build but he had a noble bearing about him. He wore a wire-thin mustache and a petit goatee. His hair was a sandy blonde and his countenance was grim.

“Mayor Keong? I am Sir L’ucas Montague and I have come looking for my brother. He came to Goulcrest two weeks ago to investigate strange affairs centered on this town on behalf of the Dnovovian Empire. I lost contact with him a week ago, and I expect to get some answers.” He gently tapped a finger on the sword at his side, “I have to say that I was accosted outside of a tavern by three men the other night. I don’t know if they knew who I was or if they thought me to be some lout, but I dispatched them and went on my way. Your town is rife with scandal and crime. What say you?”

“I say that my head hurts enough that I am about to ask my assistant for some wine to go with my powder in some chowder.”