Furious Scribe
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42. Hull - Tears
🕑 Added 2024-02-28 00:45:57 +0000 UTC
Chapter 42
Tears
Esmi knocked again at Basil’s door. Her brow was creased with worry, but what really gave away her state of mind was the fact that her knuckles were leaving little round burn scars on the door. Her control of her soul ability was slipping, and that spoke volumes.
For my part, I hadn’t wanted to go looking for him in the first place. Despite the good food – no, the incredible food – sitting at the table listening to my insane, meddlesome father and my furious, wounded half-brother as they talked about the care of the kingdom and the duty of the powerful had been almost more than I could bear. I wanted nothing more than to slip into my soft, beautiful bed and not think about anything earth-shattering until morning. But Basil had never come back to the table as he’d promised, and when Esmi had seen that he wasn’t outside the venue as we were leaving, she’d slipped her arm through mine and announced that we needed to check on him. She wasn’t an easy person to say no to.
“He probably went back to his family for the night,” I offered. “Or maybe he walked that fool Warrick back to his own house.”
“Warrick has rooms here for the week,” Esmi said, shaking her head. “He wouldn’t miss the rest of the Tournament no matter how upset he is, not with how much he said he’d wagered on me.” She fixed me with a stern eye and shook a finger at me. “You have to find him.”
I snorted. The gall of these little nobles. “I’m about to fall asleep standing up. Besides, only one of us is his fiancée, and I’m pretty sure it ain’t me. Enjoy your night, milady. I’m off.”
I only got a few steps before she said, “Please.” There was real pain and worry in her voice, and when I looked back she was wringing her hands. “My parents are waiting for me to report back about the Top 8 dinner, and I’m overdue already. It’s not just a formality; my family has major initiatives that depend on the disposition of the King and Prince, and they need me there. But I’m sincerely worried about Basil. He wouldn’t have missed the rest of that meeting on a lark.”
I sighed and kicked idly at the stone wall with the tip of my new boots, enjoying how completely they protected my feet. “If one of you noble buggers hears the word no does your head explode or something?”
She gave a dimpled smile. “Something like that. Here, wait just a moment, I’ll lend you something to help.” She drew one card into each of her hands and used one of them to put a Fire source overhead, then immediately summoned a Soul.
“I’ve found that some of my Kobolds can do things that are extensions of the abilities listed on their cards but not exactly combat-related,” she said, rummaging through her little bag. “Most duelists would never dream of such a thing, because they only bring out their Souls in the arena. But Bharghona here – I call her Bhargona because it means finder in kobolese; I can’t imagine I’ll get her to Mythic and find out her real name any time soon – at any rate, if I have an object that’s strongly linked to a person… yes, here it is.”
She pulled out something finger-sized and handed it to the Sniffer, who took a deep whiff, handed it back, and chittered at her. It was an old pen of some sort, child-sized, battered and chipped in a well-loved sort of way. Esmi tucked it away carefully.
“She says she has the scent. Bhargona, take this fellow where the scent leads.” Clasping me by the hand, she said, “Thank you so much. She’ll stay summoned for half an hour if I’m nearby, but I’ll be out of range well before that, which will recall her. You should have ten minutes, maybe a little more. I’m depending on you to send me a message once you find him. Just ring the bell and give it to the staff; they’ll have it delivered to my family’s home. Bhargona’s only an Uncommon; she won’t remember what happened when I resummon her.” She patted my hand, a pretty little crease of worry between her brows. “Basil will be nearly as happy to see you as he would me. He wouldn’t admit it, but meeting you has had a profound effect on him.”
She hurried away down the hall, leaving me bemused. Basil doesn’t give two shits about me. He’s just a nice fellow to everybody.
“All right, you little shit,” I said to the Sniffer. “I guess we’re doing this. Lead the way.”
The Kobold gave a barking laugh and loped off in the opposite direction from Esmi. It was oddly flexible, doubling down from the waist to sniff at the floor without hardly bending its knees. It led me on a merry little chase up one hallway and down another, down a back flight of stairs, and then crisscrossing a dozen back areas where servants walked past hauling mops and pails or slaved over hot tubs of laundry. This place is its own little city.
I was about to give up and find my way back to my rooms – Esmi can go hang, what do I care? – when the Sniffer hissed in a different, more urgent way and doubled its pace. It ducked through a doorway and immediately poked its head back out, beckoning to me. Feeling tired and put-upon, I followed it in.
It was a circular stairwell built into an open stone cylinder in the building, and there, tucked into a hiding space behind the lowest steps, Basil was huddled in on himself, hair clutched in his fists. He was staring at the Kobold with a fascinated, horrified expression. He didn’t seem to notice me at all.
“Hey there, lordling,” I said, squatting next to him. “Nice spot you’ve got here. Definitely worth missing dinner for.”
He started, looking all around before slowly, finally zeroing in on my face. “Hull!” he gasped, one hand latching onto my shirt. “Thank the Twins. Don’t look now, but that Kobold has too many eyes. They’re not supposed to have that many eyes.”
I got a good look at him. He’d sweat through his fine white shirt and his blond hair was plastered to his head. His eyes were so dilated I could hardly see the blue rims of color around the black.
“You ass,” I sighed. “What did you take?”
“I… I, well,” he said, smoothing his hair and straightening up. “I don’t normally go in for that sort of thing.”
“And I don’t normally go looking for idiots, but here we are,” I said, helping him to his feet. “You don’t smell like hash, and rock bliss doesn’t make you see things. What was it?”
“He said such awful things,” he whispered. He was still keeping his distance from the Kobold. “I just wanted to see. Wanted to see he was wrong.”
“Sure,” I said, only halfway listening. “Hey, ugly, can you find our way back to Basil’s room?”
The Sniffer barked and headed back the way we came.
“I don’t want them to see me,” Basil said, clutching my arm. “They’ll know.”
“The only people I saw after leaving dinner were servants,” I assured him, easing him out into the hallway. “Everybody else is either off at a party or gone to bed. That second one was my plan, I don’t mind telling you.”
“Even servants will carry tales,” he said, eyes darting. “My father’s the head of the Watch. It’d be a terrible scandal.”
“You can’t be the only little rich shit taking some potion he shouldn’t,” I said, pulling him along. “It’s the only way to get through the day for a lot of us in the Lows.”
“I’ve never indulged before,” Basil confessed in a whisper. “I’m afraid I may have misjudged the potency. The room was closing in on me, but when I went for a walk the hallways all shifted. I was under the stairs for three days waiting for the voices to stop.”
I laughed. “Yeah, you took too much of whatever it was. You left the dinner less than two hours ago.”
He peered at me suspiciously. “You’re mocking me.”
The Sniffer led us up a staircase, and I shrugged at Basil. “Wouldn’t be hard at the moment, but Twins’ truth, it’s only been a couple of hours. What did you take?”
He swallowed hard. “Tears of Les.”
I huffed a laugh. “Even your drugs are fancy. Never heard of that one.”
“It’s supposed to open your inner eye and show how you’ll advance. That’s what I heard.”
The Sniffer Kobold stopped and looked off into the distance as if sensing something, then pointed down the hallway and crooked a finger to the left.
“Thanks, ugly,” I told it. “We can take it from here.”
Then it shattered into shards of light and was gone. Basil flinched and covered his eyes.
“I’ve never seen a Soul burst into flowers like that,” he said into his hand. “It’s not right.” His whole body shivered. “I think I might be dying.”
I pulled him along, looking for the left turn we were supposed to take. “One of these days I should slip you a few flakes of Dockside Tar. It’ll make you look back on tonight and realize how good you’ve got it.”
We found his room a few minutes later. It took a long while for him to find his key – apparently his pockets felt like they went on forever – and even longer to get it into the keyhole, because he said if put it into the wrong one the entire Coliseum would disappear. I solved the matter by taking it out of his hand and putting the key into the only keyhole in the door. He was mightily impressed by my ability.
I’d seen his rooms briefly the night before, but this was the first time I’d been inside. They were ten times the size of my little cell, with a sitting room, a separate bedroom, and a washing closet. It even had a wide balcony that looked out high over the city.
I walked Basil into the bedroom and dumped him onto the perfectly-made bed. “Does a butler come in and clean while you’re gone?” I muttered, looking around. Everything was perfectly ordered and in place, with not a speck of dust or scrap of garbage to be seen.
“Third son,” he groaned. “No manservants for me. I tidied before I left.”
I couldn’t believe it, but at the same time I absolutely could. “So you’re telling me you took way too much of your Tears of Liss or whatever… and then you put your things away before wandering off in a paranoid stupor?”
“Cultivating Order takes extra effort at the higher levels,” he remarked, keeping his eyes covered with one hand. “It’s the order you don’t want to create that gets you to seven or eight Order source.”
“No wonder you’re such a prissy little bitch,” I said.
He dropped his hand and gave me a serious look that was only partially spoiled by the fact that he was sweaty, strung out, and flat on his back. “Hull, you think you can’t use Order, but you’re human, and that means you can. I don’t know what awful thing stole every shred of normalcy from your life, but things have changed for you now. You have a deck, a real deck. And some impressive prospects for the future. It’d be silly to limit yourself. Start sleeping in a bed every night. Make that bed every morning and wash the sheets once a week. Eat your morning meal at the same time each day. You’ll have your first Order source within a month.”
I scoffed. “I don’t think so. If it were that easy I’d have figured it out ages ago.”
He peered at me blearily. “Sources have to be cultivated, Hull. They don’t just happen.”
“My Nether did,” I objected.
“That’s ‘cause you’re the maddest little hornet of a man I’ve ever met,” he said. “You cultivate rage just by breathing at this point. It’s second nature to you.”
“I’m not that angry all the time,” I said, nettled.
He laughed as if that were the funniest thing he’d ever heard, but when he looked at me he cut off and looked away, clapping a hand over his mouth. “Would you turn your head right side up?” he said weakly. “It’s nauseating.”
“Right,” I said, rolling my eyes. “Get some sleep, lordling. You’ll feel better in the morning.”
“Wait,” he said.
I waited, but he didn’t say anything. “What?” I finally asked.
“I can’t get my shoes off,” he said, whimpering. “My legs are on the other side of the room.”
Sighing, I stomped over and yanked off his fancy shoes, throwing them into the corner. “Right. Good. Done. Go to sleep.”
“Will you stay for a bit?” he asked, sounding tearful. “I keep seeing mouths opening up in the ceiling, and if you leave they’ll eat me.”
I bit back a complaint. Basil had done me no end of good since we met. I was tired, yes, but a few more minutes wouldn’t kill me.
“The mouths aren’t actually there, Basil,” I told him, sitting on the foot of the bed. “It’s just the drug.”
“I know that,” he said, “but they’re still there.”
“Summon an Order source. Maybe that’ll help.” I only paid half an ear’s attention when Basil and Esmi started nattering about the mood altering effects of different sources, but apparently something had stuck without me realizing, because I knew that Order should have a grounding effect. Even if it wasn’t really true, hopefully the fact that he thought it was would help him quiet down and drift off to sleep.
He obeyed, summoning a pearlescent ball of Order to float over his head, and we were silent for a time. I looked over at him, hoping he’d fallen asleep, but he was staring wide-eyed at the ceiling.
“I couldn’t see past Rare,” he finally said.
“Not sure I follow,” I told him.
He went up on one elbow and looked at me. “I’ve recently made it my goal to elevate myself as far as possible. Legendary, if I can make it.”
“King’ll be glad to hear it,” I muttered, feeling a remembered sting of anger.
“I don’t know that he will,” Basil mused. “I hope to displace him and his worthless son.” He paused and lay back, staring at the ceiling again. “ I probably shouldn’t have said that out loud. Please don’t repeat it.”
I gaped at him. This little willow of a boy wanted to be King? It was like imagining a tree growing underwater.
“At any rate, the Tears of Les are supposed to give you a peek at what you’ll be like at higher elevations, or so I’ve been told, and tonight I… felt a keen need to remind myself of that goal. But when I took it, all I could see was Rare, and I’m right on the edge of that already.”
“Okay.” I wasn’t sure I understood.
Tears welled in his eyes. “What if I never make it any further? What if I really am just a no-account extra son that will never amount to anything?” His fists gripped at the coverlet and his tears ran down into his ears. “What if he was right?”
I looked away, uncomfortable. I didn’t know how to have these kinds of conversations. “Not sure I believe that these Tears of Les can really show you the future.”
“I don’t know,” he said in an agonized whisper. “I keep telling myself that… but why couldn’t I see further? I’ve heard of folks seeing to Epic or beyond. Should I have taken a stronger dose?”
“No,” I told him firmly. “There’s no way that’s a good idea.”
“I wanted to, but I was so scared once I started seeing things in the walls. That’s why I went walking and got lost: I wanted to take another dose and I knew if I stayed I would, so I took the coward’s way out and ran.”
I gave him a stern look. “Where’s the rest of it?”
He looked sheepish and pointed at a desk in the corner. “There’s another little paper square in the drawer.”
“I’m taking it,” I told him, walking over to the desk. “You can’t handle this stuff.” And I could probably sell it for a pretty penny if push comes to shove.
“Thank you,” he sniffed.
I wasn’t sure how the painted bit of paper could be something that would put a fellow in this state, but I pocketed it anyway. Then I walked back over to Basil and looked down at him on the bed. He looked miserable, and he deserved better. “You’d be a better king than most of these shit heads.”
He shrugged and gave a sad smile, his eyes still swimming in tears. “That’s kind of you, Hull, but I think I’ve won my last match. In the Rising Stars Tournament almost certainly, and perhaps beyond that. I think I’m not cut out for the highest levels of leadership.”
“Talk that way and you’ll lose for sure,” I told him.
He gave me a pitiable look. “My next match is Esmi.”
I took a deep breath. “Okay, so that’s a tough one, I grant you. But so what if you lose? Your match after could be me, right? You already took me down once.”
He reached over and patted my hand. “You’re not the same boy I beat before.”
An uncomfortable warmth burned within me, and I looked aside. “Losum, then, or Afi. You could take them for sure.”
“There’s a chance,” he sighed, starting to sound sleepy. “But I already traded away the Epic I won, and my deck simply doesn’t match up to what the richer families can afford.”
It felt wrong to see Basil so passive, so beaten. Something itched at the back of my brain, and pushed it away. “You sent Plutar off with his tail between his legs. You’re a hell of a duelist, and when you’ve got your head on straight you can do the impossible. You took a gutter kid and saw him all the way to the top 8.”
“It’s all right, Hull,” he said, lying limp on the bed. “Some dreams just don’t come to pass.”
The itch came back even stronger, and I did the thing before I could stop to think about it. I took a card out of my pocket and slapped it into his outstretched, upturned hand.
“What about now?” I said.
Comments
Gail
THE PAYOFF! (ticosi will not be happy to find out what happened to 'his' epic.)
Sharrif
HULL DONATED A CARD. AHHHH THE BROMANCE!!! <3
