Ch: 15 A Treacherous Knave

Sunrise  found Shai and Gary enjoying coffee and pastries outside the bakery, discreetly paying no attention to their friends waking up in the reading nook. 

 

They certainly did not huddle together and sqwee with excitement, when Liam and Tawny woke moments apart and both blushed furiously. 

 

“An Liam nae had Contract wi War, those two should be as close as we…” Shai whispered. 

 

“We just gotta get him to journeyman before this time next year, together we will find a way.” Gary said, bolstering his confidence with some good old fashioned wishful thinking. 

 

Shai stared back blankly. “Tis nae possible, War does nae ever release a Cont-…” 

 

Her eyes widened in surprise and Gary grinned, “I asked Otho and Amicus the same thing, they reacted the same way. It’s a blind spot you have built in from birth. War doesn’t get a vote if we get him over the line.” 

 

Gary looked serious for perhaps the first time she had ever seen. “Don’t tell those two. They would take crazy risks if they realized.”

 

The week seemed to trickle through his hands like water. The gang upped their training across the board, leaving Gary ragged and gasping. Each day was a new and excruciating torment, wringing exquisite agony from his shuddering wreckage. 

 

The rest of the Bathers were amused by Gary's new dedication to training, giving him some gentle abuse for it. Only Shai knew how much work he was putting in at night with Thirp and Secret in the depths of his soul. 

 

Stitching your entire being back together from the inside was a lot of work, even with expert guidance from Thirp. 

 

Teams of Gary’s other selves were in constant rotation, meditating and competing in strategy games against the Shai-lites. 

Other Notgarys were painting in the garden or composing poetry, working to pull himself back together.

 

With the approach of full winter the whole town, except Gary seamlessly adjusted to the increased hours of darkness. 

He found himself struggling to wake, and restless too long into the night. 

 

“Discipline is the only answer.” Otho pronounced, when he brought the issue up. “Pay attention to the bells and be mindful of your habits. You will adjust quickly, in three or four years perhaps…” The old coot chuckled.

Liam set Gary’s remains adrift in the pool each morning, after their workout and training circuit. By lunch Gary was capable of moving under his own power, then off to the alchemist guild to learn as much as he could from them.

 

Alchemy seemed to link most directly to cooking and harvesting, but had connections in a lot of other places, suggesting possible growth opportunities… and healing potions. What nerd didn't want healing potions? Sadly, that was one of the guild’s deeper secrets.

 

Shai was busy with her projects and commissions, leaving Gary at loose ends in the mornings, once he could drag himself out of the pool. Dannyl caught Gary coming out of the bath, hair still damp on the second morning and asked; “Will you really teach me to play guitar? Or was that one of your weird fits?”

 

There was a guitar in his hands before ‘was that’ came out of his mouth. The rest tumbled out before his brain caught up. “Eddie Ate Dynamite, Good Bye Eddie” Gary said enigmatically, draping an arm over the younger man. 

 

Shai felt them head out together, already strumming. No doubt going to make nuisances of themselves in the crafts quarter. “That would be a fine morning’s dance…” She mumbled to herself. 

 

Enjoying the unheard of convenience of a magic fueled forge that she could just turn off, Shai changed into something fit for a cool morning in the square.

After the week he spent working Shai’s forge, Gary found returning to the neighborhood refreshing. It was too quiet in the boring bureaucrats quarter, where the orphanage was located. 

 

A few power chords in, that carpenter’s apprentice with a natural funky groove settled in with a drawknife, peeling logs in time. Hammers from the forges started hitting the One as his gift spread. 

 

He set Dannyl up on a simple strumming pattern, letting his gift put training wheels on it. Gary’s guitar started in on ‘Dancing Queen’, It was Shai approved. 

 

‘ABBa must be relieved.’ He snarked to himself, while watching the woman dance. 

 

Honestly, she was distracting every apprentice and artisan to the point that it was only Gary’s gift preventing massive workplace trauma. 

 

His mysterious and weird entrainment power made the audience part of the show… and it was a big budget musical of sweeping scope. 

 

Hammers and saws missed fingers by scant moments and inches while workers swayed and pranced.

 

Before long Gary noticed Otho (the human) in the crowd, smiling ecstatically and having a conversation with someone who was not there. 

 

Gary pulled it back, slowing the tempo and settling into some mellow flamenco vibes. Dannyl came along for the ride, managing a few very nice chord changes and staying rock solid on the beat.

 

Disco made the craft ward a bit of a highwire act, if he got too far up his own butt and dropped the beat for whatever reason… Tawny was busy enough at the temple, no need to add a dozen severed fingers to the mix.

 

Otho pulled his magnificent instrument from his robes and sat in to join the fun, settling into a nice fingerstyle groove. “Joy is pleased by this Gary, Shai is coming along nicely!” 

 

Gary struck a sour riff across Otho’s groove. “Not cool man, you make me sound like some sleaze… I’m her sleaze.”

 

Otho laughed and rode Gary’s sour riff into an improvisational journey through the minor keys, ending up someplace tropical and mellow. “Shai will belong to Joy much as I do, my lady has foreseen it. As will you.” Gary shook his head and almost lost the beat. 

 

“Wait, I will foresee it? That makes no sense, I’m no prophet…” The penny dropped a little later. “Wait, own me? Nope nope nope. Not happening. Deal breaker.”

 

“Oh Gary, She already does, the way a mother owns her children, or a craftsman his tools. You belong to her because of who you are. Fighting that is like trying to make water run uphill.” Otho now had his gift wrapped up with Gary and Shai’s, making the craft ward one living organism for a little while. 

 

A surprising number of weddings happened in the craft ward that spring, but that is a tale for later.

 

Otho offered to join them in the square each morning, to educate both young men in the art and craft of music, while Shai kept the whole ward smiling. 

 

And so it developed that Gary would whistle up his gift for Shai, while soaking post workout. He conjured a brass communication tube to the workshop just for the purpose. 

 

His Gift made her crafts craftier, providing enough free time for her to join in and dance as Gary taught Dannyl rhythm guitar and Otho taught a master class in the musical traditions of their world.

 

Only the presence of Otho kept priest Theo away from their shenanigans. That and the effect Gary’s gift had on the output of the local artisans. No one seemed to be complaining about the startling increase in efficiency and quality. 

 

Well, Shai complained a little. “They be me competition boy, kin ye nae slow the work a little? Tis Mine own coins ye be giving them so freely!” 

 

Gary laughed and stole a kiss on her next orbit. “Even the carpenters are stealing from you Shai?” He scolded. “Do you have all the crafts now, my dear?” She danced by with a smile. 

 

“Kin I nae subcontract those jobs tae mine own pet woodworker? Or be ye to good fer honest crafts now an ye are some high an mighty alchemist…”

 

“I did invent an ointment to cure toenail fungus… but I guess you guys don’t have that here. It's the sandals I think.” 

 

Shai almost tripped laughing as she passed by. “I do be in love wi an idiot…” She said, before blushing bright red, sheeting ghost pale and then vanishing into the crowd for a few minutes.

 

Otho and Dannyl had been enjoying the way the pair wound each other up. Finding themselves eavesdroppers on a tender moment in a swirling crowd was just too delicious for Otho to resist. 

 

He already had the two enspelled in his gift, their own similar abilities were active and entangled together as well, making his mischief childishly simple. With a few deft tugs on their emotions, he had a fun new entertainment for the entire ward.

 

Soon, Gary was chasing Shai, who slipped through the crowd effortlessly. He struggled to follow, without losing the musical thread laid down by Otho and Dannyl. Her jingling hips remained just out of reach and she avoided eye contact like she owed him money.

 

They swept along like a force of nature, spinning through workshops, storefronts and stalls with careless grace. She slid to and fro, avoiding his reaching hands by the barest moments each time while the tempo slowly gathered speed. She pranced and twirled a full circuit of the ward before the boy finally collapsed. The music ended when he sagged onto a bench, wheezing like a rusty hinge.

 

Shai slipped onto his lap and hugged her arms around his neck whispering; “Aye, I kin say it, I do be in love wi an idiot. Tis true.” 

 

He breathed into her ear; “Lucky me, I’m in love with the girl of my dreams, and she already knows I’m an idiot.” 

 

Gary arrived at the alchemists guild a little late that afternoon. 

 

Young Muktar was gracious, waving away any tardiness with an indulgent, knowing smile and “I hear you had a busy morning in the crafts ward…” 

 

Gary just sighed and shook his head. “This town runs on gossip, I bet you know what elder Yasmeen of the tailor’s guild had for breakfast yesterday.”

 

“Young man, someone in this town knows what you are having for breakfast tomorrow, don’t be surprised if you are the last one to find out.” He swatted the young fool on the shoulder and propelled him into the workshop. 

 

“Go earn your keep now boy. I haven't had an orphan through my hall in some time, don’t make it harder for the next with your laziness.”

 

Every adult, and most of the kids in town seemed to feel a slight unease and obligation to the orphans, no doubt aware of their likely fate. 

 

That, and tradition opened the doors to craft halls that would ordinarily be closed to all but full members. Long tradition held that orphans could migrate through the craft halls, picking up odd jobs and the occasional skill as they went. 

 

Most of the orphans had a smattering of skills in unrelated fields before finding what they wanted to do. Only those who demonstrated profound talents had even a chance to avoid a primary Contract with War. Those contracted early, like Liam, had no hope of freedom under normal circumstances. Only the patronage of Joy and the presence of her highest cleric allowed any hope at all. 

 

In a refuge controlled by War, only those who could embrace their fate had a chance to thrive, tales like Liam’s were all too common in the wider world. The hard bitten warriors of the cult of War that trickled into town over the week bore that out.

 

Tough looking men and women, scarred and often haunted by an aura of pain and sorrow, were roaming the Adventurer’s compound. 

 

Their groups filled some of the vacant dormitories with rough and tumble life, most, if not all were orphans. 

 

Nearly all officers, being clergy of War and from the higher strata of society, stayed in the more luxurious temple of their god or found lodgings uptown.

 

The guild compound had a loosely enforced ‘orphans only’ rule, with some officers and clergy staying with their parties, despite not quite fitting the orphan label. 

 

None of the upper crust or noble clergy felt the need to remain with their underlings, thankfully. 

 

It was only a few minutes after the first group arrived that they landed in the public bath, lounging and chatting with the elders and younglings with ease. 

 

The family of orphans was not close, but it was huge, most families on the fringes sent their youngest and oldest children to live with relatives in the cities with temples, for safety. That practice seemed warranted, as Wheatford’s spacious and largely empty facilities filled with orphans.

 

Gary and Shai took a few predawn minutes on second day  to re-summon the house, with further expanded public baths. The steady repair work on Gary’s insides seemed to demand the expansion anyway. He had been feeling constrained for a day or two, now the little garden court they had been squatting in was completely taken over. 

 

His outer garden wall was a vine covered delight, surrounding a lovely public bath with pleasant garden plantings and a small waterfall. The shop stood beside the entrance with an inviting garden patio out front for relaxed noodling and music lessons. 

 

The house and workshop stood behind, proudly tall and elegant, draped in Shai’s flower boxes and colorful accents. 

It was a lovely home that somehow failed to look out of place, even in those drab surroundings. Everyone on the compound took the changes to the bath and shop with enthusiasm and few questions, those few who pressed him on it he stonewalled.

 

Gary leaned on the balcony rail, outside their second story bedroom and admired the view on fifth dawn. Shai was still asleep, dreaming with a beautiful smile on her face, her toes tapping to the music in her dreams. 

 

The sun was peeking through the hills, washing the valley in its pink and orange light. Mist stood in thick patches near the treeline and hovered above the river and paddie farms, lending a breathless air of winter stillness. Birdsong and the voices of the youngsters heading to the bath were the only sounds, and they were music to his ears.

 

The voices suddenly hushed and he felt everyone evacuating the pool area, that was odd. 

 

Dressing quickly in common clothes he stepped outside and found a large man in the ceremonial red leather armor of a priest of War directing the orphan kids out of the bath. 

 

“Yo. What do you think you are doing in my home?” He asked crisply and with excellent volume. 

 

The figure turned and announced in a bored voice; “This facility has been reserved until third bell for a private function.” He turned back to supervising the orphans retreat. 

 

Gary strode over to sergeant Becky, who looked ready to eat nails and crap barbed wire. “What's going on here love? Can that bozo legally commandeer our home and throw us out of our bath?” He asked. 

 

“Nobles have that right, they can post a notice one day in advance at the city hall and just take over for up to a full day.” She grumbled bitterly. “When they travel, anyone who lives along the route might have had a notice posted… or not. By the time you find out they didn't, some flunky will have back dated one for them.” 

 

“Now I'm really mad, Shai is still in bed, she needs her rest, what are the rules? What are the limitations?” He asked. 

 

“They can’t take over your actual living space, officially… In practice, once you are outside town, nobody cares if they make some farm family sleep in the rain.”

 

“They can only legally take over outside spaces, it was intended to allow lords on campaign to camp in farmland and pastures in times of war, now it's just the usual treatment.” She grumbled.

 

Sergeant Becky caught his look and called out; “Ok Kids, inside, Shai is still asleep so be quiet and no shoes in the house, the bath is straight back.” She shepherded her twenty kids past the priest and into the house. 

 

He seemed miffed and outraged, but in ornate blood red leather and a face concealing, masked helmet, he might have been smiling… probably not. 

 

He was certainly not smiling when the water to the pool stopped and the contents quickly cooled to the temperature one would expect to find in early winter outdoors.

 

When a short parade of richly robed priests arrived at first bell, they found a cold damp hole. The not exactly water had begun to dwindle and evaporate minutes after the last drops from the waterfall landed on the surface.

 

Gary’s few interactions with even the wealthier members of the merchant class were spotty at best. His experience of nobles was mainly Braden, his cronies and the rest of the school. 

 

Amicus was a mid level noble, a baron in fact, with a domain in the uplands known for quality olive oil. A fact Ivy had abused mercilessly once his acquaintance was made. The orphanage kitchen had a barrel of the stuff now.

 

When someone started pounding on the door in that familiar ‘cop knock’ just after first bell, Gary was glad he had soundproofed the bedroom with conjured barriers. 

 

Before answering the door he changed out of his clothes and into a high collared elaborately folded and embroidered brown terry cloth bathrobe of fanciful design, conjured for the very special meeting he was about to have. 

 

He stepped into brown bigfoot furry slippers and put up his hood to complete the bigfoot onesie pajama look he was going for.

 

Properly attired for a meeting of such gravity, he slid back the peep hole and gave a groggy; “Whazzathat?” Doing his best to sound drunk or hungover, he was aiming for drunkover. 

 

“Whoz there? The brothel is six streets over on the left…” He said, knowing full well those were the directions to the temple of War. 

 

Slamming the peephole closed felt really good.

 

Someone knocked again, this time like a person, so he slid the tiny door back open, letting out a long and urbane; “Yeeesssss? How can I help you?” when he saw a middle aged woman in robes, rather than the same armored goon.

 

“I am come to see about our reservation for this bathing facility, it seems to be in disrepair.” She said mildly, in the breathy accent of the local nobility. Gary slid the door open and stepped to the porch, closing it behind himself. 

 

“Ahh, well I don’t take reservations, nor is my facility open to the public.” He said coldly. “We keep membership exclusive, the entry fees are crippling… I doubt you could afford it.” 

 

While they spoke, a craggy veteran strolled up, looked over the wall and shrugged at Gary. He jerked his head at the front door and the old man went in, clapping Gary on the shoulder as he passed.

 

Her voice became a hiss, the barely polite veneer falling away. “We have the right under the law, as held by Order, we will not be humiliated by some common waif from the streets.” 

 

Her angry gestures encompassed the small group of lesser nobles gossiping in the courtyard. “I am Lady Helene Kerrman, wife of Barronette Dane Kerrman and priestess of War, do not trifle with me!” 

 

While she was speaking, Gary summoned his new guitar. Its shining bronze disk, inscribed with arcane runes shone in the morning light. Silver glimmering strings shattered the quiet. 

 

“I’m so sorry, that was not the phrase that pays… now if you had said…”

 

I am I, Don Quixote, 

The Lord of La Mancha,

 

My destiny calls and I go!

 

His gift wrapped them up quickly, only a few of the nobles even bothering to resist. He gave it just enough magic to make it an earworm, setting the song in their minds with vivid detail. Sheer unapologetic bravado let him get through the first chorus and into Sancho Panza’s part before the magnitude of the affront hit them.

 

Getting big Broadway show tunes from another world was bound to be confusing at that time of the morning. The shocking volume of instrument and voice made it harder to ignore, while the ridiculous outfit and heroic posturing dance moves made a troubling situation absurd.

 

Gary was astounded when he started into ‘The Impossible Dream’ without interruption. 

 

Certain he was going to get tackled at any moment… he heard movement behind him. Instead, Tallum’s bass joined in, thumping along trying to find his groove in the unfamiliar form. 

 

Ivy’s drum started crisply, a nice martial snare roll and a few fills to help Tallum find his spot. “Hi guys!” He gasped between stanzas, throwing some suggestive hip thrusts and working his pelvis for effect. 

 

Dannyl got some solid rhythm guitar going, taking some of the sonic pressure off Gary, letting him get his dance locked in. 

 

As the younger man joined the growing band on the patio, tinkling bells sounded at the door. Just in time he brought the number to a close, getting Liam to sing backup on the final lines.

To reach… The unreachable…

STaaaaaaaarrrS!

 

“We are Ginger Dreadnought, thanks for coming to the earlybird show, we are gonna take five, back to the music in a few minutes!” He announced, his voice amplified by his strange instrument and stranger gift.

 

Shai rounded up the band with a matronly and furious “What be all this then, ye geat lumpen fools, doe ye be picking fights wi nobles while I sleep now?” 

 

Gary quickly explained the situation and his response while Shai grew steadily more furious. 

 

“So naturally I brought the kids inside to bathe and drained the public pool. The show was just extra, cause they seemed like they wanted to see something go down and I wanted to control the situation. Our home, our rules.”

 

“Ye could have just left the popinjays tae use the bath, tis nae great thing…” The look in his eye made her grind to a halt. 

 

“This be another o those things. I do share this one wi ye, but tis nae small thing tae feud wi lordlings. Orphans do fare poorly in those matters by and by.”

 

“I don’t care, I have a home now, I say who comes in, I say who stays. Some lordling wants in, they can ask. Throw my brothers and sisters out in the cold on a winter morning? That is not gonna work out the way they hope it will.” 

 

Shai didn’t notice until too late that the guitar slung across his back was broadcasting his words at significant volume to the gathered nobles watching with varying degrees of amusement, confusion, disappointment, discomfort and rage.

 

A few of the lesser nobles slipped from their group and vanished into the crowd, reappearing as spectators. Lady Helene was having a hard time with her friends, some had split off and formed a group that clearly excluded the now very agitated noblewoman. 

 

That posse was chatting up Tawny and Amicus, who both out ranked, out styled and out shone Helene in a number of unflattering ways. 

 

Another group seemed frosty and cold to Helene over the abject and embarrassing failure of her outing. A few were even actively gossiping while shooting superior glances her way. If the common people were any measure, noble and elite gossip circles must be a true bloodsport. 

 

Helene started to look desperate, stomping her foot at the group of young people in fury. “You will allow my company into this facility now!” She spat, trembling and red faced. 

 

“No one is stopping you, by all means… enjoy. It is your right so you may as well enjoy it. I think there is a small puddle in the far corner, if you move quickly you might get your feet wet.” Gary said, beginning the intro to a sweet and gentle piece.

 

 Tawny sang out in excitement; “I know this one! Wait a moment Gary!” she excused herself from the throng, leaving Amicus to hold down the conversation as she slid the shop windows open. 

 

Seated at the pianoforte, Tawny began to play along. “You played this at the festival of Healer… I remember it fondly, such a gentle song. The lyrics though, I think they were in another language…”

 

He brought the band up to speed and got everyone following along, then started to sing the lyrics in english, a soft and gentle lullaby. 

 

He switched smoothly into the local language, his crooning voice was soft and gentle, but still projected from his mysterious instrument in rich, intimate and subtle ways.

 

Turn it down you say

But all I got to say to you is time and time again I say No!

No! No! No!

 

He slowly tightened his gift, pulling the tempo faster and raising the volume. 

 

Dannyl, Ivy and Tallum were grinning and getting deep into the aggressive and heated style. 

 

Poor Tawny was barely holding on for dear life, nothing in her musical repertoire came close to the tempo and energy she was hammering out.

 

Liam looked like he had just bitten into a sour apple and found half a worm. He had joined the guitar lessons in the craft ward a couple times, but his duties as head boy and assistant administrator were not things Gary’s gift could help with. 

 

Needless to say he was out of his depth and wielding a ukulele in a heavy metal act.

 

They got up to full speed and volume gradually, throwing defiance and sound against the walls of the Adventure guild. The echoes that returned sounded like a chorus of orphan voices, joined by the choir of orphan voices coming from the private bath. 

 

Sergeant Becky was followed by a little over two dozen freshly bathed children in Gary’s conjured robes, leaning over the garden wall belting out the lyrics with style. 

 

Otho’s game of rude couplets had created a musical monster of the children, cultivated over centuries and steeped in local color. They were ripe for a garage band revolution, and someone had the tools for the job. Gary had plans for a rowdy summer forming. 

 

The corps of older orphans from twelve to fifteen had formed up to watch, while waiting for their turn in the bath. 

 

The younger kids trooped off in orderly rows, now dressed and ready to face the last day before the festival still singing: 

 

I wanna rock! (Rock!)

I wanna rock! (Rock!)

 

The Orphanage had worked out a schedule for themselves very quickly and everyone stuck with it. They were a welcome part of his day, bringing constant activity and life into his home. Even when his duties took him elsewhere. 

 

Gary needed that, as much as they enjoyed the bath. It grounded him in the real world making his soul more centered.

 

He brought the band back up to speed with a simple beat, “This will be our last number before breakfast, dedicated to a very special lady… Lady Helene, this one is just for you…”

 

Easy, ready, willing, overtime

Where does it stop, where do you dare me to draw the line?

You got the body, now you want my soul

Don't even think about it, say no go…

 

By the second repetition he had the band backing him on the ‘No can do’s… by the fourth, a new chorus of teen voices brought the thunder from behind the walls. 

 

“Thank you Wheatford, and good morning! Enjoy your wet hole in the ground.” They withdrew inside, leaving the sputtering noblewoman and her remaining coterie of hangers on to complain to a justiciar knight from Order, who had been drawn by the noise. 

A firm, yet civilized knock came a few minutes later. Shai insisted on answering the door. “Aye, tis the residence o Gary and Shai Ward.” She answered smoothly. “Whae dae  ye come tae me door ere second bell?” She looked him up and down as though fitting him for a coffin. 

 

“Tradition do dictate lest threat o bodily injury be in the offing, tis nae meet tae come calling on the business o governance ere an hour past sunrise.” 

 

She peered dramatically past the armored knight, striking a pose suited for the memorial of some great explorer. “Tae mine eyes, the sun hae not lit the valley floor yet… see ye otherwise from your greater height, milord?” 

 

The guy knew he was screwed, no matter which way this went, one of these two powerful women was going to have an ax to grind. Odds were good that he would wind up on the bad side of both…

 

“As you say Journeyman Shai, it is entirely too early for this to be an official visit. May I enter as a guest in that case?” Shai gave a polite curtsy and graciously waved him inside the foyer. 

 

He was huge, in shining steel armor engraved with the simple balanced scales that were the crest of the justiciar knights of Order. The armor and the man inside seemed to fill the room to capacity, taking up more space than should be possible.

 

“Do make yerself at ease justiciar Dunham, ye do be welcome in my home.” Shai said with actual warmth and welcome in her voice. 

 

Gary stood nearby, watching his woman invite the brother of a man he still had every intention of murdering into his home.

 

With a grateful sigh the huge man began removing his armor with her assistance. Shai deftly helped him unbuckle and remove the elaborate armor, which she placed on a rack conjured for the purpose. 

 

“Ye hae not been by fer yer armor tae be maintained, hae ye found another smith ye treacherous knave?” She asked while working.

 

“My duties have made things… awkward lately, I have been bringing it to master smith Theophus, his apprentices are competent.” He said, sounding faintly uneasy.

 

Shai shot a look at Gary before replying. “Aye, sumat complicated things do be happening in the town, an yer wisdom will be welcome an all.” She said, still firing glances at Gary that he could not read.

 

Once out of his shell Gary got a good look at the knight that he kept bumping into. Like his younger brother, he was tall, muscular, handsome, and blonde. Unlike his brother he had an aura of restrained energy, like a massive spring held back, but ready to release. 

 

His face was scarred on the left side, three long ragged claw marks dragging from scalp to jaw almost ruined his athletic good looks. His clever and boyish smile made the whole thing work out in his favor, turning the scars into an adornment, proudly worn.

 

Before long the man was lounging at the dining table, eating breakfast with the Bathers, wearing conjured robes and silly dinosaur slippers.

 

Gary had been hovering in the background at Shai’s request. She well knew his distrust of authority figures and this one in particular had been showing up regularly for some time. 

 

When he finally approached, the big blond man stood smoothly and sketched a slight bow. Just enough from a  social superior to let an inferior know exactly where they stood. His obvious formality towards Gary clashed with the familiar ease with which the other craft ward locals were treated by the big knight. 

 

Gary rankled visibly at the perfunctory courtesy, but replied with a bow just as precisely calculated. The one Liam and the other orphans used before sparring matches. 

 

Eyes on the opponent, maintain eye contact, bow at the waist exactly fifteen degrees, return to position. The big man rankled right back at him, fuming at the affront from  a commoner. 

 

“Gary…” Liam started, before Shai cut him off with a sharp look. 

 

“I do know ye two hae met… professionally ere this, mark me though, this be a home fer decent folks. Ye be civil or tis my hand will be the one on yer collar when the boot meets yer arse.” She barked at the knight. 

 

“Gary, an ye value mine opinion ye shall be civil tae me friend, none o yer foolishness till he do know ye better.” 

 

“Yes, we have met…” Gary said coldly. “Through his brother, He did not have the courtesy to introduce himself on our first or second encounter.” 

 

He eyeballed the bigger man with a clear challenge. “What brings you to my door this time? Still investigating the local brothel scene?”

 

The big knight grinned, chuckled and held out a huge hand. “That was a cheap shot, but my brother left me owing you a few of those.” Gary shook it after a glare from Shai nearly singed his eyebrows off.

 

“At the moment I am just a citizen visiting a friend at her home, in a little under an hour I will be a justiciar again, so let's clear things up now.” He sat back down at Gary's ambivalent wave, diving back into the plate of eggs and potatoes in front of him.

 

Between bites he addressed the room. “Gary and my youngest brother had a disagreement on matters of musical taste… the issue has been resolved as far as the law is concerned. Our previous encounters involved some accusations of illegal prostitution and robbery with assault. Those accusations have likewise been resolved.” He chewed some more, looking thoughtful. “You have a lovely home Shai.” 

 

She poured more coffee and smiled, the consummate hostess. “Thank ye, tis nice tae be appreciated fer the work that I do.” She smugly replied, shooting daggers at Gary with her eyes. 

 

He noticed the heated look and turned to his host. “Gary, do your best to stay on Shai’s good side… that's just friendly advice, not the law.”

 

“Are we on a first name basis now justiciar Dunham? For the life of me I cannot remember having yet been informed of that detail. Oh look, an eclair!” So there was.

 

On a delicate china plate embossed and decorated with tiny pink tea roses, sat the most perfect chocolate eclair. 

 

The pate choux was a rich golden brown, pale nodules of diplomat creme peeked coquettishly from behind glossy, dark chocolate ganache. 

 

It lay there seductive and vulnerable, within easy reach of the hungry giant. All the Bathers held their breath waiting for what would happen next… except Shai. 

 

“Dinnae eat that pastry, tis a trap.” She said.

“Gary ye should be ashamed o yerself, this nae be like Otho, an tis nae laughing matter tae prank the servants o Order.” She snapped at him.

 

The big man looked at the quarreling pair, one and then the other, holding Gary’s eyes he reached out, took the eclair and ate it in two massive bites. 

 

“Like I said, my brother left a debt… Was the complete lack of flavor the joke? That looked great but tasted like warm air.” 

 

All the Bathers stopped cold, confused and delighted by the turn of events. 

 

Two men, locked in a frozen tableau over a delightful breakfast table, their battle of wills fought on a cerebral and elevated plane. Each man knew what was on the line and their resolve would be the deciding factor. 

 

Slowly Gary reached out a hand. “Gary Ward, apprentice luthier and Adventurer. That was a power move bro.” The big man took it. “Thelonius Dunham, justiciar knight of Order, call me Tony.”

 

“Well, Tony, the joke is, that when you leave the house, that magic eclair is going to turn into a massive magical fart… and you will crap your pants.” Tony looked to Shai and the others who all nodded. 

 

“So that rumor about priest Otho soiling himself in the middle of the crafts ward a few weeks ago…” Gary raised a guilty but unashamed hand. 

 

“Tallum, do you have a change of clothes to lend my buddy later?” Gary asked.