Several days later, Teddy returned to the rented hut after a short morning of pan-handling.
As long as he’d been stranded in this settlement of plants, he’d forgotten how much he appreciated having his own space, a space he belonged inside. The hut wasn’t some random foxhole dug in an alleyway, some corner removed from society at large.
Foxholes had their purpose, but they weren’t home. And it wasn’t the cramped quarters that bothered Teddy. He’d slept in some very uncomfortable locations during his former employment—a few tree-hollows, countless lean-to’s, even a crypt. The crypt was for the Bogerman job. He was supposed to escort Tom Bogerman the Bright and his band of Realm Knights through the border of the Brackspire.
Apparently, they were going to slay some abomination in that bog, a Satyr with the head of a bird from all accounts. According to those reports, that birdbrained Satyr was the leader of some death cult club or something.
That time, Teddy did his job as instructed. He waited and waited for Tom and Co. to return after escorting them to the Brackspire, for they still needed a guide home. However, after two months, the standard wait time on a job like that, Tom never returned. Teddy even waited an extra two weeks, just to be sure, but Tom the Bright and the Realm Knights had been lost to the bog of the Brackspire, according to law.
At any rate, Teddy was used to camping. The difference between camping out on a job and living in a foxhole dug in an alleyway was minuscule, but important. On a job, he was supposed to set camp. He was meant to be there and had a good reason to be.
Here, in this settlement of plants, he had no purpose, simply trying to subsist out of the residents’ way. He was a nuisance to those people with homes, the residents who were meant to be here. He was a bum, a homeless bum. He existed in others’ blind spots; only able to set up camp where it would inconvenience the true residents the least. He wasn’t allowed to live, but as long as he stuck to the alleys, he was allowed to survive—granted implicit permission only by the residents’ indifference.
But now, with Monteguem’s hut and a new job, he had a purpose in life again. He, Theodore formerly of the Pargols, was meant to be here; something these last few days gave him time to appreciate in full.
Today, he only spent a short while pan-handling. The glares he received while begging outside the marketplace bothered him. It had been a long while since those glares bothered him; he having lost all shame to destitution. But now, a quick morning of begging was all he could stomach.
As he strolled down the ‘street’ to his hut, their adventurer landlord was waiting outside, slouched against the entrance like a bum, himself.
Teddy waved to the man and materialized his suitcase, pulling a measured stack of silver sickle bits from it, Monteguem’s allocation of rent for the day. Conrad, that adventurer, was a decent enough fellow, but not one Teddy would trust next to a suitcase full of money. Before approaching, he de-materialized his suitcase back to the totem he kept far, far away with only the day’s rent in hand.
Teddy stunk. He knew that now, and it bothered him. His trousers were rags, his Pargol’s jacket in tatters, and he was dirty, very dirty, but Conrad didn’t mind as Teddy sat on the stoop next to him.
“Get ya any luck today?” Conrad asked.
After handing over rent, Teddy pulled a couple copper coins from another pocket and rubbed them together. “Enough for a drink, my flask is about dry.”
Conrad chuckled and waved his own flask around. “Gon Jon’s famous brew is it?”
Seemed the adventurer was familiar with Teddy’s choice of bathtub gin.
“Good for cleaning the teeth,” Teddy replied.
Apparently, the adventurer didn’t share the same sentiments about oral hygiene. He took a big swig, paused, and took an even bigger one right after. That man’s gut must have been pure fire right now.
“Get you a bad batch, might end up blind, they say,” Teddy cautioned.
“Don’t much matter now,” Conrad replied, then he looked over Teddy’s tattered jacket. “You was a porter, can’t you phone up your buds and arrange a ride out of here? I got coin, now. Take me along and I’ll pay your way, too. I just need ta get out of here, ya know?”
Teddy knew. He reached into his pocket and pulled the worthless black passport stone out. Stroking the runes engraved into its face with nostalgia, he tossed the useless passport to Conrad.
“You get that working again, you come find me,” Teddy offered. “And then we’ll leave together.”
Conrad clumsily caught the stone with a look of annoyance. That annoyance peeled away into shock as he studied it.
“This here…this here is a transport stone…it’s yer passport…it’s yer passport!” He cried. “Use it, come on, lets get outa here!”
Teddy shook his head. Why had he even clung to that useless rock all this time? Sentiment? No, he knew he was clinging to the hope it would one day light up once again and teleport him far, far away; a useless hope, he knew that both then and now.
“It’s just a rock, anymore,” Teddy explained. “Got my walking papers. Fact is, it might have more use in your own hands. Maybe you got a buddy or a buddy of a buddy who can do something with it. On me, it ain’t worth shit, less even.”
The adventurer slumped against the wall and opened his mouth, Teddy assumed to bargain, but Conrad quickly changed his mind, must have realized how futile bargaining would be.
Might be, I found an adventurer with brains?
Conrad carefully wrapped the stone in a fine rag and pocketed it like a priceless treasure. He stammered to say something, but was interrupted by a sound coming from indoors.
Tink. Tink. Tink.
Teddy was familiar with that sound. He made it every morning when chipping the cemented entryway apart to open the hut for the day. Except, he’d already opened the entryway for the day. This sound was coming from the bedroom upstairs.
Teddy raced inside and up the ramp. He beat on the bedroom door, his best attempt at a polite knock.
“Monteguem?” He asked. “Monteguem, do you require assistance?”
A shrill muffled voice was the only response he got, the walls near soundproof.
Teddy pulled out a hunk of scrap iron—his prized knife—and began chipping on the clay seal from the other side.
Tink. Tink. Tink.
Tink. Tink. Tink.
The two matched their rhythms. Shrapnel flew, but Teddy had learned how strike to avoid getting peppered in the face. A shrill scream came from inside; apparently his employer hadn’t learned that trick for himself.
Teddy was a bit faster getting his side to open into a hole. His hole was about knee height, ideal to avoid getting peppered in the face. Just as he was about to begin widening it out, he paused.
Through that peephole, a slim pair of legs stood in his line of sight, a slim, feminine pair of legs.
Teddy gulped. Despite testosterone urging him to continue, to open up the sights, he decided to give his employer—no, his employer’s fiance the modesty she deserved.
A hunk of clay fell on his head, forcing him to turn away from the sensual view of the maiden’s knees.
Ehem. That shrill voice cleared her throat inside and Teddy stood to his feet.
The hole she’d carved herself was half a head taller than Teddy. He had to look up to meet her eye.
From that porthole, he saw a woman’s face, slightly too angular to be a beauty, with a hawk nose too large. She swept aside some long strands of purple hair and brushed flakes of shrapnel off her face, clearly annoyed.
“Might you have enjoyed the view down there?” She asked.
“I-I apologize, miss—er—missus—er soon to be missus,” Teddy stammered, then a thought struck him.
“Was Monteguem not around to help?” He asked.
“This one is plenty to chip apart an entrance,” she explained. “Monteguem has returned for the unforeseeable future and we have a contract to negotiate, as that one promised. I would like my garment, now.”
Two peculiarities struck Teddy. One, if Monteguem had left, that meant he had a passport of his own and could teleport across the border—the only explanation for his disappearnce from the sealed room, so why did he need Teddy in the first place? And two, if they had a passport stone and were, in fact, a porter of sorts themselves, why was the missus naked? Wouldn’t she have brought an outfit of her own, or did she not have a suitcase bound to her flesh?
Teddy shook his head, reasoning for the latter. He assumed Monteguem had a transport stone of his own, but no suitcase. It was the most reasonable conclusion. However, that begged, why did he need the door sealed?
“I would like my garment now,” she repeated, snapping Teddy from his ponderings.
He nodded and pushed all questions to the side. He had a client and the client’s business wasn’t his own, for he no longer required snippets of conversation to push up to management. His client was his management and Monteguem had given him a home off the streets. Outside of that, Teddy didn’t care to concern himself with Monteguem’s true business here.
Whether his employer was studying a plant or had other motives, it didn’t matter as long as he kept Teddy employed.
Teddy rolled up the outfit he’d purchased her into a tight bundle and squeezed it through the hole in the door—the top hole, minding his manners. After that, he didn’t dare loiter around. She wasn’t some corner whore; she was his employer’s missus, and you don’t shit where you sleep. He wasn’t about to trade a peep for a restful night’s sleep.
Teddy marched down the ramp, having completely forgotten about Conrad. However, Conrad hadn’t forgotten about him, their adventurer landlord stood in the open entryway with an open jaw.
“Weren’t it just you and that dandy before?” Conrad asked.
Not good. I can’t explain Monteguem’s disappearance either; what’s worse, he was replaced by a shapely missus.
Teddy cleared his throat, giving him a moment to think.
“That’s his missus,” Teddy began, speckling his lie with inklings of truth. “She arrived yesterday and the two, having been separated for a spell, requested to be sealed inside their room for…”
He struggled to think of a polite term for sex.
“…for research,” he added.
Conrad looked him up and down. “They got a passport?”
Teddy shook his head and dug his lie even deeper. “Not that I am aware of. A private porter, I’m sure.”
Most aristocrats already had enough of a target on their back, carrying around an invaluable transfer stone to cross the territory borders at leisure would only exasperate that circumstance. It was already curious enough that Monteguem didn’t travel with armed escorts. He didn’t need any more danger attracted to him. Teddy could only be a meat shield for a couple scuffles; he was no warrior himself.
Conrad pondered for bit and Teddy wondered if he’d have a chance against the adventurer in a fight. Teddy had muscle, used to have more, but his diet wasn’t suitable for maintaining body mass. In fact, he wasn’t sure what to call his diet. Despite only eating plants, it wasn’t vegetarian; it was…something else. Desperate…
Conrad was a good head, head and a half, taller than Teddy, and likely had three to four stone more weight to him. Not only that, Conrad likely was a seasoned warrior, something that went hand in hand with adventuring. Teddy had been in more than a few scrapes himself; though, he was more suited to sly retreat than head to head combat.
Teddy’s opponent squared himself. “I’d like to submit my services. Minus the cost from rent to make it easy.”
He knew it wasn’t a request. Conrad was desperate to escape this desert, and Teddy just lied to him; now, that desperate adventurer was ‘offering’ his services to an unguarded aristocrat with, what Teddy could only assume was, a private porter in his employ.
Teddy squared off against the man himself, and looked up to meet his eye. Firm and even, the most threating tone he knew, Teddy replied, “You are honor-bound to uphold the previous arrangement. The terms cannot be altered even if both parties agree, need I remind you of this?”
Conrad took a step closer, a step inside the hut as though he belonged there. “Might be I just cancel our arrangement? Seemed to me, it was day by day; might be, tomorrow, I just kick y’all out?”
Tink. Tink. Tink. Upstairs, the missus was back to work tearing down the sealed entryway across the bedroom. This time, despite her presumably being decent, Teddy couldn’t help.
He materialized his suitcase. Conrad jumped back and warily eyed Teddy as the latter reached inside, seemed Conrad hadn’t forgotten about the ‘hidden weapon’ Teddy kept inside his case.
Oh, there is a hidden weapon in here, just one you didn’t expect.
Instead of a concealed dagger, Teddy pulled out an even mightier weapon, a slip of official document.
Holding out the mayor’s accord, Teddy said, “my employer is very reasonable, too reasonable for this town, in my opinion. He need not pay you rent, nor continue the arrangement of daily rent to annex your hut. Take your rent and be on your way, or you will be left with nothing.”
For the second time, Conrad’s jaw fell. He tried to reach for the accord, but Teddy had already snapped it back inside his suitcase and the evidence disappeared into thin air.
“Pass…pass on my request,” Conrad stammered, contrary to what Teddy expected.
Teddy nodded and Conrad left, suckling on his flask of bathtub gin as he staggered away.
Tink. Tink. Tink. The missus chipped away at the seal upstairs, but Teddy couldn’t help. He had a job to do down here. Right now, he needed to guard the entrance.
