Fool's Errand (49 page)

Daemius led Xiao Hong and the two Mitsar to their guest rooms and told them where they might find the kitchen. They thanked the chief counselor, and he departed for wherever he would pass the evening. The young rogue and her two friends enjoyed a meal together discussing their tasks since Xiao Hong brought them to their current service to the Cyrian princess.

Xiao Hong brought them up to speed on the content of the conversation that had taken place at the alliance council prior to Tarynna sending for them. With all the paranoia and secrets, the situation now seemed to require murdering a group of innocent strangers. Xiao Hong could not help but wonder if she had embroiled herself and her new Mitsar companions into a deadly situation, which might find them on the losing side if half the fears expressed in the council meeting came to fruition.

“You know,” she said to her two companions, “if the very heroes who managed to bust the blockade suddenly wind up dead immediately after a visit to Cyria, I am not sure the suspicions the council fears so deeply won’t come about anyway. With such a major tragedy as is planned for tomorrow, I wouldn’t be surprised if this didn’t serve to accelerate and amplify such suspicions.”

“Heh,” Pernicious replied, “I was thinking that myself, sister. Not only that, there is no guarantee they didn’t already tell others about Xyer Garan before they came here. Of course, with that collection of hotheads, I wouldn’t mention that for the world. Let ‘em find out the hard way. Just more work for us, and when the ’farts are in the wind’ so to speak, the price for Fel’s and my
air-clearing services
might just have to go up.”

The two Mitsar snickered and snorted to themselves as though Pernicious had just told the world’s funniest joke. Xiao Hong failed to see the humor in the situation. She was a simple rogue who thought she had landed the world’s dreamiest situation. She didn’t have to risk her neck, sneaking around picking pockets or navigating trap-filled treasuries, looking for the next great score. She just had to sit around telling a spoiled princess about the holes in her plans and providing
the way I would do it
advice while others risked their hides to bring her plans to life. She even thought she was sharing her good fortune with the two Mitsar, who she felt would make powerful friends in the future. Now it looked like her dream world was about to come apart at the seams in the midst of murder, treachery, and war.

Her mind was made up. She would have to look for the right opportunity to make her exit and seek her fortune elsewhere. This situation had become far too dangerous for her to just stick around and hope for the best. The question was, could she trust the Mitsar with her plans to leave? If they felt her departure would unsettle their future, they might turn on her just as quickly as Dadao had. No, she would not tell them yet, but she hoped the situation would change in the future before her opportunity to escape manifested so that she might depart in such a way as to keep the Mitsar on her side.

After dinner, the friends talked a bit more and then retired to their separate rooms for the evening. Xiao Hong carefully locked the door to her room, but she knew that the perverted Field Marshal Arian might still be lurking around the palace somewhere. Doubting that she had the only key to this room, she took a chair from the writing desk in her room and secured it snugly under the doorknob, thus, effectively proving an additional barrier to any potential unwanted visitors.

Her room was on the second floor, and the windows bolted securely from the inside, so she felt she had adequately secured all possible entrances. After a thorough search for any secret or hidden doors, she was satisfied that the main door and the window were the only two access points to the room. If she needed a hasty escape, the window would provide the sure-footed and nimble thief adequate access to either the ground outside or the roof above. She settled into the comfortable bed and drifted off to uneasy slumber.

As the heroes of Dragon Pass prepared to head downstairs for their evening meal, Melizar approached them with a handful of dried moss.

“This is a moss called
trezen
. It grows in Shadowdeep. Chew it well and mix it with your saliva before swallowing it. This will counteract the intoxicating effects of any alcohol you consume for the next two hours or so.”

Puzzled looks graced the faces of his companions, other than Thatcher who was already in on the plan. Clearly further explanation was required.

“This will allow us to put on quite a show for the watching eyes, consuming copious amounts of wine and ale. The expectation we will be about anything but sleeping off a serious bout of drunkenness will be the furthest thing from the minds of our caretakers. This should hopefully get them all to relax their watchfulness this evening, although it may require a bit of dramatization on our parts to sell the illusion.”

Goldain smiled at the well-conceived setup.

“From our time in Stonehold, Thatcher and I have had enough practice really reeling from a mug or two too many. I am not sure our straight-arrow captain or our little princess may have much experience to prepare them for the role. Perhaps, princess, you could play the part of our designated nurse to usher us to our rooms and tuck us in for the night.”

“You know, my northern friend,” Gideon replied, “I was not born a paladin, and I have dealt with more than my share of drunken soldiers serving as a mercenary. I am sure I can draw on those experiences to emulate the behavior. Melizar, are you certain that this plant works on Adami? The One Lord forbids his people to be drunk with alcohol.”

“This stuff works on every race we have tested it on. Your sobriety will be intact. You have my word on that.”

Gideon nodded, indicating his trust in the word of the mage and took a bit of the moss. Placing it into his mouth, he began to chew.

“Just because I am small and a girl,” Jeslyn snapped, her fiery temper once again reared its head. “Don’t think for a moment I couldn’t drink your giganto butt under the table even without this silly weed. Rajiki make a root-based alcohol that would plant you on your backside after half a glass, and we drink it with our meals.”

Goldain smiled.

“I am well aware of the Rajiki root-mead,
chikava.
I have shared it many times with the tribes living close to the wolf clan borders. Some tribes to mix certain flowers into their
chikava,
which produces some interesting hallucinations.”

“Yes, that is called
chikava-papa.
It is not a normal beverage but used in ritual
spirit walks.
This is part of Rajiki coming-of-age ceremonies of some tribes, though Blue Arrow tribe does not use this. Anyway, then, you know Rajiki are no strangers to strong drink, so don’t be so quick to write me out of your plans, Goldain.”

“Yes, princess, no doubt you can carry your weight at the drinking table, but the men around here may not be familiar with Rajiki warrior women and their drinking prowess. In order to not overdo our acting job, perhaps you may wish to consider playing the part of the sober caretaker just this once.”

Jeslyn was obviously not happy, but she folded her arms in front of her chest and harrumphed a begrudging “Fine then,” and let the matter drop.

Melizar could not fathom why the northerner chose placation over exercising authority. Indulging this temperamental child was growing wearisome. Perhaps a bit of mistargeted
kashaph
during their next hostile encounter might be in order to rid them of the troublesome child for good.

“Well that is settled then,” said Thatcher. “Let’s chew up this
trezen
and get downstairs. After dinner, Melizar and I will lay out the rest of it for you.”

 Thatcher grabbed a pinch of the
trezen
and popped it in his mouth. The look on his face showed he was using every bit of his self-control to not spray his mouthful fully into the faces of his companions. Gideon’s lack of reaction had not let on how truly horrendous this stuff tasted. Melizar well knew it was a nauseating combination of salty, sour, and bitter and as one chewed it, leaving behind a stinging sensation spreading throughout the whole mouth as though one were chewing on a fistful of bees.

“Aw…” Thatcher squawked, “Jeslyn be glad you are playing caretaker and don’t have to ingest this foul plant.”

“Good stuff, huh, kid?” Goldain chided, only frowning slightly as he chewed his own noxious mouthful.

“Just like mom used to make!” Captain Gideon said, rendering a rare quip as he and the northerner exchanged grins. An audible chuckle escaped from beneath Melizar’s dark mask.

“Oh, sorry, I forgot to warn you,” said Melizar. “The
trezen
is a marvelous plant for the work it accomplishes, but it tastes like the sole of a
marglak’s
foot that has been rubbed in a
kragzar’s
armpit.”

The surface dwellers exchanged puzzled glances as Melizar continued to snicker at his own clever comment. Of course none of his companions had any idea what a
marglak
or a
kragzar
was, but to anyone from Shadowdeep, that would have been a hilarious analogy. Still Melizar gave his companions credit for politely pretending to laugh along.

Jeslyn, who had no idea what the mage was talking about and unlike the others no idea about his secret, just screwed her face up and harrumphed again, probably assuming the adults were trying to make fun of her somehow.

Once the four men had their mouths sufficiently prickled with the bite of the
trezen
juice, they swallowed the remains of their bitter vegetation and proceeded downstairs for the evening meal. Everything they were served looked and smelled well enough, and Jeslyn commented that for prison food, it was pretty good. Of course for those under the influence of the
trezen
, they could just as well have been eating moldy old socks for all they could taste.

“Oh yes, another side effect of the
trezen
I forgot to mention,” added Melizar, “is that pretty much whatever you eat or drink all tastes the same.”

“Fantastic…” grumbled Thatcher.

Thatcher and Goldain made quite a show of ordering wine and ale in abundance.

“Come on now innkeeper,” Goldain said. “Princess Tarynna herself said we are guests of Cyria tonight, and our evening fare was courtesy of the Cyrian royal family. You wouldn’t want to defame the royal family by skimping on the drinks now, would you?”

Thatcher laughed as he mused that Goldain was quite the ham when the need, or even the opportunity for that matter, presented itself. Thatcher had grown deeply fond of the northerner. Goldain had become more of a big brother to him than the whole guild full of rogues with whom he had grown up. He found himself wishing this adventure would never end.

For once, he truly felt as though he had a family. Gideon was like the father that the cruelty and selfishness of that Aton-Ri merchant deprived him of as a child. Melizar was like a crazy grandfather that the family kept hidden away in the attic but loved just the same, even with all his eccentricities. The absent Duncan was like the uncle who drank and joked too much but was always there to lift your spirits when you were down. And Jeslyn, well she was the annoying kid sister who just had to nose her way into all her older brother’s business. At this moment, in a strange land far from any home he had ever known, Thatcher realized he was the happiest he had ever been in his life.

After much dramatization, exaggerated drinking, and merrymaking, the evening meal drew to a close.

“Melizar,” Gideon said quietly, clapping the mage on the shoulder, “this
trezen
is amazing. I have consumed more alcohol tonight than I have in the past year combined, yet my head is as clear as ever.”

“Glad to hear, captain, but perhaps the time has come for us to retire for the evening.”

The four revelers plus Jeslyn made their way upstairs. Goldain continued to ham up his performance with staggers, stumbles, and even the one gratuitous pratfall at the top of the stairs.