How To Avoid Death On A Daily Basis: Book Two (7 page)

Ducane nodded. “I’ll have one of my men escort you there.”

“And may I have that?” I pointed at the box he was holding.

“Of course. With my thanks.” He handed me the box.

I opened it just long enough to see the golden key inside, and then snapped it shut. “Thank you. I rely on you discretion, Commander.”

“And I on yours,” he said.

Princess Laney was staring open-mouthed. I had made sure my little glimpse at the key was in her eyeline.

“Why does he have that? Is that a… Ducane? Why does he have a Key?”

“Ah, your Royal Highness, I’m afraid I’m not at liberty to say.”

I bowed. “I look forward to seeing you soon, Princess. And to meeting your father. I think we’ll have a lot to talk about.”

I turned and walked out to the sounds of her screaming at Ducane.

The others were right on my heels.

“Are you really going to marry her?” Claire hissed at me. “She’s a kid!”

“Of course not,” I said. “What do you think I am? I was just winding her up.”

Screams rang out behind us.

“I think you may have gone too far,” said Maurice.

“Yeah, no shit,” I said. “Don’t worry, I have a plan.”

“Does it involve running away and hiding?” asked Claire.

Damn, they knew me too well.

The moment we passed through the second archway into Fengarad proper, the whole world changed. Noise hit us from every direction. Bangs and clatters, voices shouting, dogs barking, carts trundling across cobblestone. We all had to take a moment to get used to it.

Everywhere I looked there were buildings squeezed together and leaning against each other in haphazard fashion. Narrow, tall and wonky.

“If you’ll follow me,” said Laffi, “it isn’t too far to the Municipal Directory.”

He led us through narrow streets, weaving between the crowds of people who all seemed to be going in the opposite direction to us. We had to bump and jostle our way through them to keep up with Laffi, who seemed to have an uncanny knack for sliding through the gaps without slowing.

Everything was so tight and cramped, it was impossible to get a view of anything other than our immediate surroundings. Not that we had much time to look around, we were too busy trying to keep Laffi in our sights.

After about ten minutes, we exited the dark alleyways and found ourselves in a plaza. There were buildings on each side, the most impressive of which had a white marble facade with columns across the front. It looked like a museum or art gallery, but it was in fact our destination, the Municipal Directory.

I’d thought the narrow streets had been crowded, but they were positively deserted compared to the interior of the Directory. It was like a train station during rush hour. We lost Laffi within seconds of entering the place.

We stood in the middle of a sea of people, trying to figure out where we were supposed to be going. There were windows along each wall, with people queuing up to speak to the person on the other side. What they were queuing up for, I had no idea.

We were just about to join a random line when Laffi reappeared.

“Ah, there you are. I’ve spoken to the management, and they’ve arranged a private office for you. This way.”

He was about to vanish again so I grabbed the back of his jacket, nearly yanking him of his feet. The others followed my lead and all grabbed some part of his clothing.

“Keep going,” I said to him, as though it was perfectly normal to have five people clinging to you as you tried to walk.

We moved very slowly, but together, through the crowd. Up to this point we had been ignored or simply barged aside, but now people stopped to stare as we shuffled across to the far end of the room, where a small, smartly dressed but slightly greasy-looking man stood by a door.

Once we got to the door, we let go of Laffi and entered a room with some chairs and a table. We immediately sat down without being asked, which was probably a bit rude, but we were all too exhausted to care.

“This is Master Niven,” said Lafffi. “He’ll take good care of you and answer whatever questions you might have. I leave you in his capable hands.” He snapped his heels together, turned and was gone.

“Corporal Laffi has informed me you have some money you wish to claim,” said Master Niven. “May I see the order?”

Maurice passed him the chit Grayson had given us. Niven read it once and then put in in his pocket. “That’s fine. Would you like it in cash or do you want to open an account?”

“Is this like a bank?” I asked him.

“Yes, in a manner of speaking. A bank, a depository, an exchange. Goods, services, jobs of various kinds—we provide it all. Visitors like yourselves find it convenient to have somewhere to leave their valuables rather than carry them around with them.”

“So, it’s safe to leave our stuff with you?” If people left all their valuables here, it seemed like the ideal place for thieves to target.

“I assure you, our security is second to none. We did have an attempted robbery about six months ago, but all of the miscreants were apprehended, every last chob was accounted for, and the guards on duty were all executed.”

“You executed the guards?” said Claire, a little shocked.

“The criminals were also executed, of course, along with their families. Their homes were burnt to the ground, and letters were sent to all living relatives informing them if they set foot within Fengarad’s walls, they would be killed on sight.”

“That seems very harsh,” said Maurice.

Niven beamed with delight. “Thank you very much.”

“So I can leave anything with you and it will be here when I come back for it?” I asked, just to make sure.

“Absolutely,” said Niven.

“Great.” I put my stick with the nails in one end on the table. “I’d like to deposit that.” It was awkward carrying it around, even in my bag. It always managed to poke me in the back as I walked, so it would be good to leave it somewhere safe. Who knew when I’d need it again?

“Oh,” said Niven. “Of course. Is there anything else?”

“Yes.” I pushed the velvet box with the Key to the City in it across the table.

He opened the box and his jaw nearly hit the floor. He quickly recovered and closed the box. “That won’t be a problem, Sir.”

We ended up all opening individual accounts. We split up the money between us and deposited two hundred bits each, keeping the rest on us for expenses. Niven had become extremely helpful after he saw the Key, and was happy to answer our questions about the best place to spend the night and where to buy gear from. He even gave us a map of the city and marked places of interest.

The inn he recommended was in a quiet area on the east side of the city. I had emphasised that it should be private and not too busy. My main goal was to stay out of sight while we figured out our next move, or as Claire put it, ‘hiding’.

We got three rooms. One for the girls, one for Maurice and Dudley, and one small one for me. We were just in time for dinner in the small courtyard and stuffed our faces with bread and soup until we could barely move, and then all struggled up the steep stairs to our beds. Real beds with pillows.

I fell asleep the moment I lay down and the next thing I knew it was morning. I was still fully dressed, my face was sticky with drool, and I couldn’t move. For the first time since we’d arrived, my body had finally had a chance to relax properly, and the result was that every muscle in my body had seized up.

I rolled off the bed in agony and managed to get to my feet. The pain was excruciating. It even hurt to walk, and the only way to move was using a Frankenstein’s monster shuffle. I slowly worked my way down the stairs to find the others waiting for me. They were all perfectly fine and raring to go. Bastards.

Our plan was to go shopping for new gear and clothes. The girls were especially excited at the prospect and impatiently tried to get me to eat faster. The others had woken hours earlier and already eaten breakfast by the time I got up. The sight of them all chatting away, discussing the kinds of clothes they would look for, annoyed the fuck out of me, and I ate as slowly as possible. Not that I had much choice—even lifting a spoon was sheer torture.

I finally finished and we prepared to leave on what I’m sure the girls considered our first true adventure—shopping.

“It’s a shame we ain’t got the Key with us,” said Flossie. “Ah bet we’d get much better service if we flashed it around a bit.”

“Maybe,” I said, “but it’s more important for us to keep a low profile and not let anyone think we’re anything other than some low level wannabes. Being underestimated is still our chief weapon. That and surprise. Our two chief weapons are surprise and being underestimated.”

“And ruthless efficiency,” added Maurice.

“Our three chief weapons are surprise, being underestimated,—”

“And a fanatical devotion to the Pope.”

“Our four chief weapons—”

“What the fook are you two going on about?” said Flossie.

“Not a Monty Python fan?” I said.

Flossie shrugged. “Ni,” and then she walked off.

“Wait,” I looked at Maurice, “was that a Python reference?”

Maurice looked as unsure as me. “It couldn’t have been... could it?”

Claire just shook her head at both of us, mumbling, “Nerds,” before setting off after Flossie.

We had asked a few people about the best place to buy stuff and they’d all suggested the same place: Madame Robidoo’s Emporium. Apparently it was
the
place to get kitted out.

With map in one hand and terrible sense of direction in the other, we navigated the spaghetti-like streets of Fengarad like 18th century explorers fumbling their way through the jungles of Africa.

Other than my debilitating stiffness—fortunately it eased off after a bit of walking—I felt pretty relaxed and was more than happy to be doing something as mundane as going shopping. We had enough money to buy what we needed, and maybe enough to get some cool stuff on top. What we would do after that was still undecided, but to be honest, none of us wanted to think about it until absolutely necessary. A new pair of underpants was far more important.

We got lost a number of times, and certain members of our party got distracted by a shoe shop where we were forced to wait while they inspected a vast range of inappropriate footwear, but eventually we found our way to the Emporium. It was a massive department store on two levels, with every sort of garment, from armour to ballgowns. A section at the back had weapons. Upstairs, there were tools, utensils, and household goods like cups and plates. And spoons, lots of spoons. Never again would I have to eat stew with a twig.

“Okay,” I said, “we should get some clothes first. Make sure it’s functional. Pockets are more important the sequins.”

“That’s incredibly sexist,” said Claire. “We aren’t idiots.”

I grabbed Flossie’s wrist and pulled her hand out from behind her. In her fist was a red spangly skirt. I prised it from her grip—which took some effort—and threw it back into a basket of equally brightly coloured fashion items.

“And nothing too colourful. We don’t want to stand out.”

We split up and began to rummage our way through the Emporium’s inventory. It took several hours for us to find everything we needed, but we were in no hurry. We probably should have haggled over the prices, but it was all well within our budget so we just piled everything up and paid what they asked.

There was no point carrying it all back to the inn, so we changed into our new gear and threw away our rags. Maurice held on to his Batman onesie, though. One day the Dark Knight would return, no doubt. No, that isn’t racist.

After some further convincing, the girls had settled on basic trousers and jackets, and sensible boots. The guys had obviously needed no coercing, and we had all gone for combat trousers with multiple pockets, and leather jackets with even more pockets.

I had considered the heavier armoured garments but they were so stiff and bulky, I didn’t think their extra protection would be worth the lack of mobility. It would probably be better to buy second-hand gear that had been broken in already.

We still looked quite scruffy—none of the guys could grow a beard that didn’t look like patchy underarm hair, and we hadn’t shaved in over a week—but the upgrade in outfits had elevated us from murder-hobo chic to rugged homeless bums. We all bought shaving kits, including the girls. I assumed for their legs, but I didn’t ask.

We bought decent bags, basic eating utensils, some hats—more arguing with the girls about what a hat was for and why pink flowers didn’t count as camouflage—and three tents.

Next up were weapons. First thing we did was get everyone a decent knife. They weren’t really for fighting—although that would probably be required at some point—more for everyday use. We also bought a couple of small axes and a mallet. Swords were a bit more expensive and none of us knew a good one from a bad one, so we bought the cheapest ones for now. I already had one, so didn’t need another, and Maurice was happy with his spear, so we bought three.

At the rear of the store, there were racks of bows of all sizes. From teeny ones suitable for a child, to giant ones that would dwarf even the tallest person. Other than the man behind the counter, the area was deserted.

“Can we try these out somewhere?” I asked the man.

“What do you mean?” He was tall and bald, with a very neat beard and a depressed look on his face.

“I want to buy a bow,” I explained, “but I don’t know which would suit me best. So, can I try them out?” It seemed fairly self-explanatory.

“Try them out how?” said the man.

“Is there somewhere I can fire off a few arrows?”

“No.” He didn’t seem to be taking me very seriously. “That would be dangerous.”

“Look, the five of us all want to buy a bow. That’s five bows, plus a ton of arrows. But we have to be able to test them first. Otherwise we’ll go somewhere else. Now, is there an alleyway or something where we can safely shoot some arrows? We’ll pay for the arrows.”

He’d remained so impassive as I spoke, I thought maybe he hadn’t heard any of what I’d said, but he suddenly walked out from behind the counter and over to a door. He held it open and nodded.

I stepped through the door to find a narrow alley, bricked up at one end and leading to the street at the other. Apart from some trash, it was empty. I went back inside.

“That’s fine. Now we just need a target.” I looked at him. Nothing. “How about a bale of hay? Is there a stable nearby we could borrow one from.” Still nothing. “Or buy. I’ll pay.”

He let out a shrill whistle and a boy, maybe ten years old, came running across the store. The man told him we needed a bale of hay and the kid ran out of the door into the alley. While we waited, we selected a bunch of bows and paid for a quiver of twenty arrows.

The kid returned in about five minutes, balancing a huge bale of hay on his back. He was told to put it down at the far end of the alley.

We all stood in the alley and I aimed an arrow at the bale. It was hard to even draw the string back, and when I did finally let it go, it missed the bale by a good margin and smashed into the back wall. The arrow broke, obviously. I could tell this would waste a lot of arrows.

“How much does a bale of hay cost?” I asked the man.

“One chob.”

That was nothing to a bunch of money-bags like us. I looked at the far wall and measured roughly how many bales it would take to entirely cover it. “Please send for eleven more bales.”

This got me a single raised eyebrow, but he whistled again and sent the boy off. He returned with a bunch of little friends, and they piled up the bales until there was a wall of hay at one end of the alley.

I tried one of the other bows—this one was smaller and a lot easier to draw. My aim was still terrible, but it did land in the hay. I walked down and pulled the arrow out. It wasn’t broken.

After that, we all tried different bows until we each found one that suited us. There were a few more breakages as arrows hit the wall or went straight into the ground, but mostly they found their target.

Everyone apart for Dudley chose one of the smaller, more compact bows. They were easiest to use, and to carry. Dudley preferred a larger, more powerful bow that was quite tricky to use, but had a bigger range. He had some natural talent and his arrows were neatly grouped together.

The salesman almost smiled as we paid for our bows and arrows. I asked him to leave the bales where they were so I could come and practice. I arranged to pay him a small fee for this, which seemed to both confuse and delight him. The idea of a firing range to hone your skills was apparently not something anyone had suggested to him. I planned to come here for the next several days and get good. Or at least, less terrible.

Having finally got everything we needed, I turned to the girls and said, “Right, that should do us for now. You can use the money you have left to buy whatever useless crap you want.”

Both girls looked shocked. It didn’t take long for them to recover, though. They dropped everything they were carrying and ran off making strange squealing sounds.

They came back with their arms full of hopelessly impractical stuff. Lace dresses, weird hats, silk scarves and all sorts of nasty cheap jewellry. They were panting, their faces were red and their mouths were fixed in huge grins. For the first time ever, I’d managed to make two women orgasm at the same time.