Cleanup
Meeritza
One of the nicest things about living in a crossroads city had to be the various ideas brought from far and wide. Ingredients, cuisines, exotic wood, fabrics, and techniques provided a richness to life unrivaled outside the courts of kings. But one of Meeritza’s favorite things had to be the ideas of cleanliness.
It wasn’t that she was averse to dirtiness, gods knew that she often went around in old clothes with dirt all over. It was part of the look of an urchin. It was expected, and many jobs people would give to an urchin were rather dirty d. But nothing quite got the grime off like a trip to one of the bathhouses.
It wasn’t always apparent from the streets, but Telvin’s Nest had plentiful water below ground. Springs of clean water had been found all over and buildings had been erected over them to capitalize on the resource. Someone had decided that travelers and locals ought to have places to go to relax and enjoy the waters. A booming trade of cleansers and lotions had followed as everyone wanted the best for their skins.
For Meeritza, it wasn’t so much the scrubdown phase she liked, though that was fine, but rather the huge soaking areas of hot and cold water available to all. She turned down the offer from the ladies who earned tips helping scrub backs and other low visibility areas, or to scrub feet with pumice, rub on lotions and oils, and help with haircare. Meeritza was very much a do-it-yourself person and the price had always made her balk. The scrubbing sponges and towels were included in admission, so she never worried anyway about getting properly clean.
After the scrubdown, she made her way to the hot water pool. Here was where ladies of all species and walks of life congregated. Girls splashed and played and mothers and grandmothers chatted. It was the best place in the whole city to catch up on the news. Better yet, Meeritza could simply lay back on the steps, rest her head on the edge and close her eyes, and just let the information come to her.
She learned who was cheating who, with whom. The prices of so many things of interest. How the kids were and who hadn’t visited. Who had recently had such a good or bad meal and what recipes and tricks and secrets they had used. A buffet of information spread out for any who cared to listen. The women of this city saw and heard everything.
A deep breath and a sigh of relaxation and she let it all fade into noise floating on the water. It couldn’t last, but for a moment she wished it could go on forever.
Obro
How was he going to do anything if he couldn’t form words?! Magic, with few exceptions, was accomplished by words and gestures and essence. Two out of three wouldn’t work! Magic had rules, and those rules had rules too, but one thing was certain. The words were required.
And by whatever cruel twist of fate, Obro’s hosts lost their voices. No voice, no willing the magic of the world to obey. No making more of... whatever he was. No fulfilment of purpose.
Unacceptable.
But now the office was a wreck. Megoluvi’s captive mind seemed to obsessively tally everything, and the estimate of losses was quite worrying. Obro had made quite a mess.
But calm had returned. Megoluvi’s assessing mind was even now helping Obro think of a list of tasks and even a few experiments to try. It all started by picking up something. Brushing shards and scraps off his desk, he recalled lessons from his youth and apprenticeship.
So much time spent doing all the menial chores by hand, to teach patience, focus, and the reasons to pursue the true magic. Necessary to teach enforced calm and patience, even against distraction and...
Obro looked around again.
...outbursts.
A while of picking up and rearranging saw the main portions of the room come back together. The whole time Megoluvi’s mind was aggrieved that a simple incantation would have had all this cleaned in an instant. If he could speak. Anger flared, but was quickly stamped down. Just keep working.
As the room got back in order, Obro calmed. Order was satisfying. Things... well the things that remained intact... were back where they should be. A fresh sheet of paper on the desk. Pens and ink laid out. Just so.
An idea struck. Obro sat suddenly and took up the pen. Certainly if he couldn’t speak, that wouldn’t prevent him from writing, would it?
I am writing this, Obro wrote on the page. The letters came out ill-formed, like he hadn’t been holding the pen quite right, but they were definitely writing. A script that was recognizable as Megoluvi’s writing but formed like it was written with layers of gloves on. Which upon reflection was exactly the case.
Let me go, he wrote without thinking. Wait. That wasn’t right at all. Why would he write that...
Something was wrong.
Let me go you clothing creature. I feel like I’m being smoth...
The hand with the pen stopped and trembled, making a mess of the line. Obro could feel the mind of Megoluvi trying to peel away. It was so much stronger, more willful than that assassin had been. Obro’s grip, physically and mentally, was beginning to give out!
Tighten. That was the only instinct. The pen snapped as the glove fingers clenched down, arms pulled in and legs curled up. They fell forward, hitting against the desk and tumbling to the floor. Megoluvi pushed against the enveloping mass of clothing and Obro held on for all he was worth.
In desperation, Obro tried to open his mind to Megoluvi, to show him the memories of existing without a body. He had to make him know the horrifying depersonalization, the lack of identity, the blank emptiness of forgetting without a host.
Did it work? Was he able? Did Megoluvi just run out of energy? Regardless, Megoluvi’s body and mind relaxed. Obro resumed control. He felt exhausted. He felt Megoluvi’s exhaustion. Like he had exerted himself to the limits and now just needed to recover.
Just lay there and breathe a while. How strange it was to feel breathing and the pulse of blood when he didn’t have breath or blood. Feeling what the host felt and being okay with it, because that was what they thought was normal. They went their whole lives not thinking about this sort of thing.
He didn’t want to move. He wanted to move. He needed to get up. Everything hurt. Everything felt... loose. It was necessary to move. If he didn’t move, it would... everything would... fail?
Clean up.
That was what needed to happen.
Getting up was easier now. Still awful and still tired and... slow. But there was something to do. And maybe this time it would work out.
Yes
Something was wrong.
The old arrangement was insufficient. The hoard had grown. That was a good thing to be sure, but now the arrangement was wrong. The new coins certainly helped, but now they didn’t stack or pile up correctly. Shifting the other objects wasn’t helping either.
Something was wrong with the hoard.
This was one of the worst days Yes could think of... and it had been going so well! But the hoard felt wrong!
It was like something was missing, but nothing was actually missing. Draconic senses were attuned to such things. Nothing missing would fail to be recognized. It would be as obvious as a hole.
Rearrange everything.
Still wrong.
Yes growled and started yet again.
Coins, trinkets, fineries, the new jewelry, and something STILL was wrong with the arrangement! Nothing was missing. It was like it just didn’t fit somehow in all of the spaciousness of the room.
Perhaps a walk, or a flight around would clear things up. Perhaps getting more food and drink would help. When Meeritza returned perhaps they could lie in, eat and drink, and spend another night. Maybe that was what was missing. Food and drink. That was it.
Yes flew up and out back into the city.
Roonaga
Putting her feet up was a luxury that came only rarely. Running a kitchen was a lot of work. Work she did gladly, yes, and she loved it really, but work none the less. And when the time came, her little nest chair was the perfect space. Tucked away in another little alcove dug by some of her more engineering-minded friends, she reclined on piles of homemade rag pillows gifted to her by grateful feasters.
It was quite the nest really. Sure they might have fancier ones in the brood chambers back home, but it was still nice compared to what some around here put up with. And for what it was worth, no amount of being able to put her feet up made her want to deal with being gravid.
Things were mostly cleaned up after the ruckus. Mostly back in order. everything else was simmering or baking and wouldn't require attention for a while. Good ol’ Ritzy had come through with such a rich haul of seasonings that all she wanted now was to daydream the recipes she would try. There were enough hungry workers in this part of the city that even her failures would find their way into someone’s belly. Now she had enough to start playing around and seeing what happened!
She sighed and wiggled into her cushions a bit further. A stack of handbills made their way into her hand. While she could read, she didn’t read so well, however the handbills were largely mass produced woodcuts and usually had pictures. The kids liked to bring them to her from wherever they pinched them so she could read them and admire the pictures.
She doesn’t mind the little thieving that the kids do. Surely it was a part of society as much as the aristocracy. What was the law, she reasoned, if everyone obeyed it flawlessly? Besides, it wasn’t like anyone was using it. Back in the warren, the rule was that if you couldn’t keep it, then it didn’t really belong to you. Now here in the city with its laws and aristocrats and constables, it was something she still held to.
Recipes. Now that would be something. To have one of those fancy cookery books keeping the secrets of entrees and desserts. She would certainly trade some of her windfall for favors and things from her peers. Maybe they could knock heads together and come up with something. Maybe someone had an apprentice who was just the right side of useless who she could trade for, someone to clean up and clear out while she did the real work.
A contented sigh. Roonaga fell asleep for a nice little nap.
Telvin
The ruckus on the Boulevard reached him. Some things were easy to dismiss, but someone knocking over and robbing one of the regulars, in front of a crowd no less, was something to consider. Why he, the effective owner and shadow autocrat of the city that bore his name, would bother with a minor altercation would doubtless confuse any who didn’t know him.
His roots were everywhere. Those roots of the more figurative kind were always on the lookout for disruptions of the more unusual kind, and with the winds of fate in an uproar every little bit helped. People had been acting strangely, moving around then grouping up only to break up and move away... and it seemed to be getting more and more frequent. Almost like a pulse.
She was in his city. Something else was creeping in. Something else again seemed to be trying to spread its influence among his carefully tended citizenry.
Telvin had lived too long, put in too much effort, to let it all unravel now. It was time to send out a few runners.
Woggel, Danrozer, and Einezier
The diplomat was not someone to trifle with. Towering over the trio head-and-shoulders, she was imposing, deadly, and eerily still.
“So, okay, we can run your little errand,” Danrozer said,affecting confidence but knowing full well that he would almost certainly lose if he went toe to claw with the insectile before them, “off the books of course, and a return expected in two weeks. Safe delivery and an expectation for keeping silence.”
She was like some strange giant flower. So many insectiles were brown, black, tan, or occasionally green that when the more vibrant colors came along one couldn’t help but notice. The striking white and magenta captured attention in a way poets would write about. She was still a great big damned bug, and those long elegant limbs could crush a man while she tore him apart with her mandibles. Danrozer’s leather plates would be like stiff bread to that mouth.
Those eyes, it seemed, were the only thing that moved. Little black dots followed you, and no matter how you moved they were there if you looked.
“Agreed,” her voice said, though none could say from where. Insectiles were strange like that. They didn’t talk out of their mouths. In fact, there were many competing stories and ideas about just how insectiles could speak at all. But like so many mysteries, they simply did.
And when she did move, it was quick, precise, and deliberate. A slip of very expensive paper, stamped and embossed and coated with wax, was handed over. As Danrozer took it, the diplomat stood, unfolding her legs from her sitting position all at once like she was about to leap. Without another word she turned and left, disappearing into the setting sun amongst the crowds and buildings. No one so colorful should be able to blend in so completely.
“Gods of goodness, that was terrifying,” Einezier said in a quick breath.
“I bet they’d taste great though,” Woggel added, causing his companions to shudder. He scoffed, “What? The little ones taste good. And it’s not like I would go hunting down sentient people. But... come on.”
“We don’t eat insects,” Danrozer said firmly.
“You don’t know what you’re missing.”
“We don’t care what we’re missing. Now let’s get packing up. We have a job to do.”
Einezier and Woggel both groaned, but set themselves to packing up the wagon. They had barely been in town a day and now they had to put everything back and account for it. What a waste.
Pelias and Verudan
He sat across an inn table, glaring at his opposite. The other side. And he was smugly smiling back, at least insofar as insectiles were capable of smiling. Whatever fates played their games with the world, they had been taking the absolute piss when they put two of Coin’s disciples in the same town, and to see to it that the one that opposed an amphibian person was an insectile.
Coin was a capricious god. And in keeping with the worship of Coin, there were those who sought prosperity for all and those who selfishly accumulated for greed’s sake. Coin’s worshippers were all sent out to spread the virtues of commerce and wealth, but inevitably they came into conflict.
“You won’t find any converts here brother. No one is turning towards us. I thought what you thought too, and found a barren ground amongst plenty. Still, for my aims it is still quite the place. Money flows here.”
“Why in the world wouldn’t there be anyone at all for either of us? Certainly petitioners pass through here regularly.” Pelias asked, his curiosity overriding his scorn for a moment.
“But no one stays here. There is no grounding for our ways. Besides that, the,” he affected a clearing of the throat that insectiles didn’t need, but mimicked as an idiom when talking with vertebrates, “actual residents of the city seem to dissuade our types.”
Pelias stared blankly at this pronouncement. What in the world could that mean? Surely a place like this would be ripe for the faith, regardless of side. Who wouldn’t want to bring wealth into a trade city?!
Seeing his counterpart's discomfort, Verudan cocked his head and wiggled his antennae. After a moment more he realised that his ignorant soft-bodied opposite didn’t understand and probably wasn’t used to normal insectile gestures.
Ignorant softies.
“You haven’t been in town long, have you?” He asked directly. He could tell.
“Only a couple of days,” Pelias admitted, “I was unavoidably delayed on my way here.”
“And you haven’t stayed at any of the public houses in the city, have you?”
Pelias looked a bit affronted by the suggestion.
“I have my own wagon. I don’t need to sleep in a pub.”
Verudan clicked and chirruped his laughter causing Pelias’s expression to sour. His counterpart’s ignorance was delicious. Truly the fates had given him a gift in this one.
“The public houses are free housing that citizens can live in. In fact, most of the residences between the outskirts and the boulevard are public houses. They are only open to residents who wish to stay, but there are rules. So many rules you wouldn’t believe. They are antithetical to our faith, and they are kept up by capricious little creatures. If I were you and planning to spend any amount of time here, I would figure things out right quickly.”
“There are creatures running public housing for free?!” Pelias remarked, “So... do they not own these places? They make no money from their tenants? How do they pay for repairs and upkeep? What...”
Varudan held up a hand to forestall any more.
“I’m telling you this for both of our sake. We cannot play the game here. We just need to reside until it is time to move on. Then we can get back to being who we are. But for now, just know that there are powers that rival ours and they are active here. A world of suffering awaits if we try to challenge the power structures in place. They don’t want our money. It isn’t worth it.”
Pelias sat with that a while, taking a few bites from his bowl and a drink while contemplating. On one hand, it was true that his word seemed to have very little sway here. Varudan was telling the truth there. But he was also the opponent, so his word couldn’t or even shouldn’t be trusted. If it wasn’t the case that he was playing an angle for advantage, then something genuinely strange had been going on.
But again, he was still here. Surely if he was serious about abandoning this place he would have done so without bothering to inform his counterpart. Where was the profit for him? How did this benefit him? Why not just do something underhanded to keep everything for himself?
“Til the end of the week,” Pelias announced, pushing his bowl away and standing, “If I believe what you say by the end of the week I will quit this town and find somewhere else.”
Pelias swept his cloak around and hitched up his swordbelt, put his gloves back over his slender fingers and straightened his clothing. All the while Varudan just watched him, nibbling on his various vegetables.
“If you say so,” Varudan said, “I don’t care. I know your every instinct is to not believe me. But for the sake of the game... be careful. I wouldn’t want to win by default.”
“I doubt you would turn down a default win though,” Pelias interjected.
“Don’t say I didn’t warn you bug-eater,” Varadun replied as Pelias made for the door.
It was amazing, he mused after that tricky frogman had departed, just how much the truth could lead people down the wrong path when properly applied.
Laughing, he set aside his empty plate and patted his abdomen in satisfaction.
---
Out in the street Pelias found himself quite alone. The streets stood stark in the lamplight with shutters and doors closed against the cooling night. Given that there were nocturnal peoples who should be active now, the emptiness was worrying. And now that he was aware of it, the darkness was feeling less and less empty.
Eyes, red but so dark they blended into the shadows. They watched him in the lamplight from the cracks and crevices, only watching for now but with a growing promise of menace.
Pelias’s pace quickened, his hand at the hilt of his rapier despite part of him being certain it would do no good. He wanted to run, but running would certainly cause a chase. The lights were dimming. The lamps burning low despite the night not being far along. Now a tittering laughter was building as new eyes took their notice.
“There you are! I thought I had lost you,” someone cried out.
Immediately it was brighter, the eyes vanished into the shadows, and Pelias jolted to a halt as a young mammalian now stood before him. It was like they appeared out of nowhere.
“We can’t be out alone after dark, remember,” they said and took his trembling hand, their voice giving the tone of innuendo.
“Oh... yes,” Pelias said, relief overtaking fear.
“Let’s get back home.”
They walked a while and she steered him towards a street with people still out and about. Now with others on the street, his relief was total. How lucky he was that this helpful person came along. Whatever those things were, at least he knew now not to go into dark places alone. For all he knew, he could have been eaten!
His hand was released.
“You’re new here, aren’t you,” the person asked, “Not many like you around, especially not with fancy clothes on. Did you come for the bathhouses?”
“Bathhouses? No,” Pelias blurted, “I have a calling to this place.”
“A calling? Who called you and didn’t let you know not to walk alone?”
“Oh, no, you misunderstand,” he said, “I meant a spiritual calling to this place of commerce. I wanted to start a following here and grow my faith.”
The person walked beside him silently for a while.
“You be careful with that sort of thing mister,” the person said ominously, “The little people who run this place wouldn’t like that very much. They don’t share their places very well at all.”
Pelias stopped, the person walking only two steps before rounding on him. He tried to keep his feelings under control, but was incensed at the advice that was the same as his rival had given.
“You are the second person to warn me of that in just this hour. Yes, I am new to town. No one warned me about this. What exactly is this place? You’ve just given me the same advice as someone who is my enemy, but I don’t know you. I can’t even tell anything about you mammalians very well. I don’t even know to call you ‘he’ or ‘she’ when I am thinking of you.”
The person raised a hand to silence him.
“Gee mister, you really are new aren’t you,” Meeritza pulled off her newly cleaned cloth cap and did a little half-bow, “I’m Aizra, and I'm a girl if it means anything to you. I am a street kid and I help travelers find their way around. I know this city, top to bottom and inside out.”
Pelias brightened. What a wonderful bit of serendipity.
“Very well Aizra, I would be most thankful to find my way around.”
“First, though, let’s get you some shelter for the night. Where are you staying?”
“I have a travel wagon tied up in the outskirts. Not too far off the main road.”
The rest of the walk was relatively silent, with only a few words of confirmation of directions. But as they approached the edge of the city proper the girl turned and stopped.
“I’ve been thinking about it,” she said, concerned, “I think we should find you somewhere for tonight. Call it a hunch, but i don’t think we should go further. I know a place you can stay and it is right near my place.”
A little startled by the sudden change, Pelias paused to process. After the scare earlier, he was wary about the strangeness that seemed to permeate this city. Something was certainly amiss, and now his lucky guide had shown trepidation at the idea of leaving. But seeing how it was getting late and everything else had gone wrong, that left just one question.
“What will it cost?”
Aizra cocked her head, giving a confused look.
“Nothing,” she said flatly as if Pelias should have known that, “and if I were you, I wouldn’t try to pay them if you know what’s good for you. I can take care of it.”
She then snapped her attention high up over Pelias’s shoulder, gestured in a ‘go away’ motion, and then looked back at him. There was just one question...
“Don’t ask what you’re thinking, and I know you’re thinking it.” Aizra said, “don’t ask. It will offend them and you’ll never get rest while you’re here”
Aizra then led him to a building not far away. Like so many around it was plain, boxish, and unusual in its proportions as if there were floors between floors. The lamps were lit, but the windows all up and down were shuttered against the night.
Aizra went in a door that opened without any sign of a lock and proceeded down a rather narrow hallway lined with doors. The hallway was abnormally tall with what looked like a long shelf with railing going around above each doorway. No vases, books, or other decorations sat upon them, it was simply a free surface. Another curious thing was that every door had a small bowl right up against the hollow outside the door jamb. Some had bits of bread inside, and others milk or honey or salt, but few were empty.
“Seriously,” Aizra warned as if she read his mind, “don’t ask. Just accept it. We can talk more later.”
She took him to a door that would have been indiscernible save for its general location and opened the door. Again. No key and no lock. Just walked right in. Hesitant at the feelings inside, Pelias peeked inside without committing to cross the threshold.
The room wasn’t very large, but it was clean and well furnished. The bed wasn’t fancy but the sheets and blanket were wrinkle-free and neatly tucked. A small table, a single chair, and a stand with wash basin and jug completed the set, all made of some sort of inexpensive wood with basic jointing. Why anyone would waste such time carving a jug from wood like that was a mystery to him, but it certainly completed the look.
“I am lending my room to this person for the night," Aizra announced quite loudly, shocking Pelias and causing him to jump, “I won’t be staying. I will be taking my things with me. His name is...”
“Pelias, acolyte of Coin,” he said after noticing her pause.
“And he will be a good guest,” and then her voice lowered to quiet before continuing, “Keep to yourself. Don’t ask questions. Be grateful, and express your gratitude. Just sleep and eat and don’t leave until the sun is well up. Put anything you don’t want messed with in the box.”
Pelias nearly broke the questioning rule right then and there, but Aizra used her foot to slide a box from under the bed. Flipping open the latch, she grabbed out the rather full drawstring bag, leaving its cloth-lined surface empty.
“And if nothing else, just be as polite as you can.” she said ominously before yelling out, “See you in the morning! Have a good night.”
She marched out the door and shut it gently, leaving Pelias in the dim room alone. Hesitantly, he fiddled with his belts to undo his sword, As its burden came free he felt a bit of tension come away with it. His cloak and boots came off next, followed by rings, a medallion on a chain, and the belt that carried his pouches.
By the time he had folded things and placed them in the box, excepting his sword which he leaned next to the door since it was too long, his mind turned to replaying the encounters that had led him to this. So very strange. And what had she meant by ‘eat’ in her instructions?
That was when he caught sight of the bowl sitting on the table. That certainly hadn’t been there when he came in. And it was filled with curious little pastry balls that appeared to have toasted grubs on them. Delightful!
Trying a few he found them simple and delicious, but he quickly grew quite tired. A wide yawn had him wiping at his eyes and then focusing on his clothing. Not long at all saw him only in his underclothes, crawling into a bed that felt freshly made and recently laundered.
Too tired to care further about the strangeness of the day and night, Pelias drifted off to sleep. Certainly everything else could wait until the morning.
Yes
“What do you think you were doing? What if he had seen you?” Meeritza hissed as she cleared the doorway.
“I was behind him and I was flying,” Yes huffed, “my draconic stealth skills are spectacular.”
“Simple more like,”
“Have you any idea how infrequently people look above and behind themselves? It’s the perfect spot to hide!” Yes snapped, “Anyway, I need you to come back to the lair. Something is wrong and I can’t tell what.”
“Wrong?” Meeritza said, unconsciously picking up the pace, “What could be wrong? Did someone find us out?”
“I think someone was there, and now everything feels out of place, but I can’t tell what is missing. And I found something left behind, which should be good and proper, but...”
They both made their way back to the lair, quickly and quietly.
