Chapitre 155: Servant of the Axe, 55 - After the Dragon
Servant of the Axe
Chapter 55
After the Dragon
I had assumed, as closely as I could remember, the position in which I had awakened on the slab. I had eaten two sausages, the minimum that would avoid starvation.
"… is that storing corpses where one stores food just isn't right." Said a whiny voice.
"I won't say as it's right, but it's what's been ordered." Said a baritone.
Two sets of footsteps came down the ladder.
"I mean, who snaps a neck like that and turns the bugger back over to his friends and family?"
"You just gonna complain, or actually 'elp me get this body off the ship and into the bay?"
There was a sigh. "Fine, fine. I'm willing ta earn my place here. I'm just saying … oof, but this bugger's heavy."
"Oh, quit your… hrm… A'right, heavier than he ought to, for his size. C'mon, get the ropes around 'im."
They hauled me up out of the icebox, which they slammed and secured a padlock to.
Whiny complained all the way to the deck railing, over which they chucked me without even a prayer for the dead.
I cracked an eye. It was broad daylight. Who disposes of a body in the early morning?
But without seeming to have a care in the world, they continued sailing into the bay, as though everything were normal.
I noticed I was drifting toward a giant sea anemone, and began swimming. I would later learn that particular anemone was Medusa Grande, and routinely ate around a person or two every year, strong swimmers who just got caught in the undertow. It wasn't a bad plan, although I hadn't developed anything resembling strong swimming skills. Well, not with limbs, anyway.
It took me an hour to get to shore, even riding the waves (such as I could, I've no doubt that I'd have drowned if not for my amphibian lungs). It was near dinner-time when I made it to the docks.
This was where I learned two important facts. First, that the Dragon had, in fact, sent a most courteous invitation to join him some two weeks prior to my abduction (about when we started classes). And second, that there was no other notice for me, say, from friends who might have left. <1>
My clothes were between moist and damp when I returned to the inn. My group was simply not there. Well, I still had…
No, I didn't have a single tin piece on me. Bloody pirating pirates.
All the innkeep would tell me was that my comrades hadn't departed. No clue when they were getting back. The ungrateful… no, to be honest, I might not have opened a tab for me, either, given the state I was in.
That night, I dined a la garbage can, and perched on the inn roof like a soggy gargoyle. That said, it wasn't the worst night of my life.
#
Around midnight, I realized that wherever my friends were, they weren't coming here for the night. So where else might they…
The company, meaning Gamilla, was renting two whole hotels. And paying for a boat the drydocks.
As it turned out, I didn't need to check the drydocks. The hotel on the left had a clear scent of sulphur coming from one of its second story verandas. I noticed the window was open.
Sure. I could climb that.
I really shouldn't have.
"Fires, children of the flames of hell…"
"It's me, wife. Put the damn flames away."
"Huh? Ignition?"
She held the candle out my direction, a quizzical expression on her face that turned to wroth. "You BASTARD! I thought you were dead!"
"No, you didn't. You'd know instantly through our contract."
"Well, okay, fine. Be romantic like that."
A furry bundle moved under the covers. "I knew he'd find you by scent. Did you throw the candle at his head?"
"Oh, I forgot!" Madonna said.
"Not yet, not yet!" Kismet said, as covers began to move like manta rays. "I want to watch."
"Shall I fetch the others?" Dimmihammas asked.
"I grant you leave to do so." Madonna said, almost perfectly parroting that raised limp wrist thing that I could never get just SO.
"I'm not knocking loudly, don't expect a lot."
Without waiting for his return, Madonna walked over to the candle, pulled it out of its holder and hurled it at my head.
"Yess!" Kismet raised both her hands in victory. "Eye hit for a point."
I belatedly stroked a hand across the front of my shirt, knowing it was useless. I'd need to get it professionally cleaned to get the wax stains out. "Can we now all get to bed?" I asked.
"You're not sleeping in this bed without a bath." Madonna declared.
"She's got a point, Rhishi. You stink."
I passed Dimmihammas in the hallway. "I'll see you in the morning, Dimmihammas."
"IF you survive the night, sir." He said.
It turns out that the inn didn't have a rig to get bathwater directly from the well. It turned out, as a solo job, to take about three times as long as the bath itself. Tired as I was, it was tempting to just stay up and make breakfast.
I certainly wasn't sleeping in THAT water. Bucket by bucket, it went out the window.
And now, now finally, I could get some sleep..
"Boss." Came the voice of Narces.
Oh, I jumped. Right there on the stairs. Darn near broke my ankle.
"Boss, I know you'll tell us in the morning. I gotta know, was it pirates?"
"It was pirates." I said.
"Yes! Narces is the victor! Good night, boss."
"Good night, Narces."
It was a minor spell of air, and one I should have expected Narces to learn. I limped off to bed, certain I would collapse when the adrenaline wore out.
I didn't even last that long.
#
I awoke in the morning, not because of the sun, nor because either of the young women woke me, but because there was a monkey wiping his foot-paws back and forth across my nostrils.
"I have an oath regarding harm or unreasonable duress." I reminded him.
"The others are expecting you for breakfast, sir. And by expect, I do mean demand."
"Mhmph." Or something similar.
"I see, sir. Shall I use the comb or the hairbrush to wash your teeth with the chamberpot contents?"
"Madonna wouldn't dare give you that order."
"But Miss Kismet did, sir. And as one who is not Black Madonna, I find the order… quite interesting."
I'll just bet he did. But it was enough to get me out of bed.
"Where are my boots?" I asked.
"Begging sir's pardon, you came in last night without boots, or belt, or hat."
I groaned, putting the heels of my hands against my eyelids. "You mean today is shopping day."
"Oh, no, sir. Tomorrow is shopping day; today is SPA DAY."
I blinked at him.
"Oh, my bad… Shining Teeth! Ahem… SPA DAY."
"Blaugh! What inhumane manner of magic is that?"
"Apparently a simple Sun magic, sir. Which, I might add, this particular monkey body seems to have an affinity for. Would you like to stroke my… Golden Fur!"
"Aaaaa! Stop. Just stop. I'm moving, I'm moving. Gods!"
"Please do NOT attribute my actions to such diametrically opposed beings." He sounded genuinely hurt.
"Damn you forever to the hell where drill sergeants are condemned."
"Actually, most people believe that is the Hell of Wrath, when in fact more drill sergeants reside…"
"Bwaugh! Stairs!" I screamed. "Ah! Urwagh! Oh! Dangit." I may have added an 'Ow' at the foot of the stairs, but it is more likely I just made a wordless grumpy noise.
[You have taken eight points of Bludgeoning damage. After armor, two points have been received. 6/30 health remain.]
Really? No message about my pain threshold?
[Your pain threshold is over half your remaining health. You are in severe pain.]
Yeah, thanks, System. Kinda figured that one out on my own.
I don't know the name of the sailor who laughed up porridge through his nose, but it set off a chain reaction that ended long after I was seated in my chair, in a posture similar to that which a stroke victim might assume.
"So have some toast, boss." Narces said. "And tell us about the pirates."
"Pirates?" Kismet sounded distressed. "No, it was the dragon."
I waved a hand, noticing half the slice of toast had vanished somewhere. "Both are correct."
"Oh, this had best be good." Gamilla said.
I attempted to explain, but the questions lasted through breakfast, all the way north past the governor's house, and most of the way to spring and its bath-house.
Where, much to the chagrin of my wife, I slipped under the surface of the warm water, and promptly fell back asleep.
#
<1> Yes, this was in full view of the pirate vessel. The pirate vessel whose crew thought I was dead. This was not, by far, the most brilliant of decisions made that year.
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