Downtown Druid

Dantes awoke the next day with a splitting headache. He laid awake with his eyes closed for what must have been at least an hour, then he attempted to sit up. The moment he was upright, he vomited, narrowly missing his bed. He stayed still for a few moments, then wiped his mouth with his bare hand and crawled over to the water pitcher, his hands and knees cushioned by the bed of moss that now covered everything in the cave. He actually felt a bit better after expelling that bit of poison. He took slow steady sips of water, then moved the rock that covered his food and removed some hard tack. It wasn’t the meal he’d pick first in any other situation, but in this case it was exactly what he needed.

Jacopo grabbed himself some food from the uncovered hole, and began to chew it much more loudly than Dantes would prefer. He looked up at him.

“This suffering, you chose it?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“Needed someone to trust me as much as possible. Had to pretend to be friendly. Wasn’t too hard, he was a friendly guy, just also happens to be a piece of shit.” He took another sip.

Jacopo shrugged, at this point the gesture looked nearly human. “You chose it, you deserve it.”

“Oh, I probably deserve worse. Luckily what I deserve doesn’t matter.” He took several more sips of water, and choked down more hard tack. He still needed to take the fruit sacks to Mez, then he needed to contact Syn, and on top of that he’d been meaning to check in with Clay to see how much luck he’d had acquiring a Mother’s Reach seed. Now he’d need to do all of that with a splitting headache and raw stomach. He did himself the grace of forgetting about his exercise for the day. He sent permission to the roaches to clean up his puke and began dragging himself to his garden, sensing their gratitude as they cleaned his cavern for him.

His garden had grown massive and unruly. Red bushes, trees, and vines all fought for space in the large chamber. Their roots had turned the hard stone to rubble, and grown deep into dirt that hadn’t been seen for hundreds of years. He heard a chorus of requests for his blood from the plants all around him. Those had been growing louder and louder as the garden had grown. Rats ate freely of the rotted fruit Dantes couldn’t eat or use, and roaches fed on whatever remained that even the rats wouldn’t touch.

Dantes drew his rapier and opened the same cut on his arm he’d been opening every day, feeding the garden a steady stream of blood until the cries for it at least grew quieter. He had known in the back of his mind that as the garden grew it might require more of him, soon he’d need to find another way to feed it. He couldn’t compensate for the lack of sunlight forever.

He moved to the already packed fruit sack for the day. Lately he’d been taking two every time, but today he decided one would be enough.

When Dantes arrived Mez was leaning over a large cauldron, stirring the ingredients inside of it. His equipment seemed to have had a complete overhaul since he and Dantes had begun working together. He’d even managed to acquire some glass containers and beakers, the logistics of getting those things down to the pit without them breaking were staggering. He still looked a bit malnourished, and wore dirty rags, but he just had different priorities than most.

Mez didn’t even bother looking up. “Hungover?”

Dantes threw the sack to the ground and let out a confirming grunt.

“A greasy slice of beef and a raw egg washed down with a light beer would fix your right up.”

“Are you offering?”

“I’ve got a bit of stringy rat, a snake egg, and booze that would kill most gnomes after a sip.”

“I’ll pass, but thank you.”

Dantes went to leave, but stopped when Mez spoke.

“Oh, speaking of gnomes, there was one here a few days ago asking about you. I forgot to mention.”

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“What was his name?”

“Don’t remember,” Mez continued to stir, but didn’t look up.

Dantes moved over to him and waved a hand in front of him to get his full attention.

Mez looked up and blinked as if just remembering there was an entire spectrum of reality outside of the bubbling contents of his cauldron.

“What did he look like?”

“Short.”

Dantes clenched his jaw, but kept himself in check. Mez had been in the zone since Dantes had started to bring him fresh supplies so constantly. His focus was part of what Dantes liked about him, he had to take the bad with the good.

“Was he traveling with elves?”

“Oh, yeah, he was.”

“What did he ask you?”

“He wanted to know where the fruit came from.”

“And what did you tell him?”

“That I didn’t know and didn’t care.”

Dantes nodded. “Alright, thanks for the heads up.” He turned toward the exit to Mez’s cave. “See you tomorrow.”

“Later, Tes.”

He moved through the tunnels, no longer on hungover autopilot. He sent rats ahead and behind him so that he could watch for anyone approaching or following. Grimald was trying to determine where he got the fruit, that meant he was trying to cut him out of the process. It made sense. All he provided was fruit. Mez did the brewing, and the Collared handled the logistics. Even they may be cut out if the consortium got rid of him though. They could definitely handle the logistics themselves. He’d have to be more cautious with his deliveries. Mez couldn’t sell him out since he didn’t know where the fruit came from. That meant that Grimald’s next step would likely be to interview other people that might know, or to try and track him. Given the fact that he had two elvish trackers as bodyguards that had a vendetta against him, he bet on the second option. He’d need to be much more careful.

He went around his own cave, and headed for the undermarket. He was more alert and focused now that there was a potential threat. He needed to keep pushing forward, even if his head felt like he’d accidentally sheathed his rapier between his ears.

He reached Collared territory, where the guard waved him through without trouble. They were still on higher alert than before, but as far as he knew they hadn’t had any more incidents with the Orcs. A few of the smaller gangs had gotten some trouble from them, but the Collared were on almost the opposite end of the prison, and their neutrality meant that the Orcs had little reason to bother with them. At least for the moment.

“Dantes,” said Wane, spotting him as he moved past the fountain in the center of the chamber.

He stopped and waited for Wane to approach. “Hey Wane. Can’t gamble today, I have an incredible hangover.”

Wane chuckled. “I don’t mind if you gamble hungover.” He leaned against a cell wall. “Were you drinking because the meet went poorly?”

“No, the meet went well, actually.”

Wane frowned and gestured for Dantes to move off the main path to speak. “Really? They were willing to work with you?”

Dantes cursed internally. He hadn’t considered how much he should share with Wane. The Orcs needed to think he was going to side with them, but Wane and the Collared would almost certainly be wary of him working with the Orcs after what had happened during the last supply drop.

“No, but they didn’t kill me. Unless you count forcing me to drink with them as an attempted murder.”

Wane nodded. “Well, I’m sorry it didn’t go well.”

“Yeah, that’s why I’m headed to the undermarket. I need to tell Syn what happened.”

Wane nodded.

“Hey, have Grimald and his elves been by at all?”

Wane shook his head. “No, not since they were here to meet with you and Merle. We pick up our portion of the profits from them in the undermarket.”

“Have they been asking questions about me when people go there?”

“Not from what I’ve heard, but I haven’t been paying much attention to be honest.”

“That’s fine. Want to come with me to the undermarket? Wouldn’t mind some company.”

“No, Pillion cleaned me out this morning.” He batted his eyelashes a bit. “Unless you’d like to buy a few things for me.”

“Sorry, I’d rather save so I can pay your family the dowry it takes to marry you.”

Wane chuckled and gave him the dainty wave of a highborn woman. “Until then.”

Dantes waved goodbye and went the rest of the way to the undermarket.

Jacopo crawled around in his jacket until he was perched on his shoulder. “Do you really intend to marry that orc?”

Dantes smiled. “Not unless I’m down here fifty more years. It was just a joke.”

Dantes felt Jacopo comb through his mind for a few moments. “Ah, you use these often.”

“Yeah, I’m surprised this is the first time you’re asking me about it.”

“I often ignore parts of what you say.”

“Can’t say I blame you. To you a lot of what I talk about must seem meaningless and dull.”

“Yes.”

“Why the sudden curiosity?”

“I’ve noticed it puts those around you at ease. Makes them more likely to listen to you. It is a tool?”

“Yes and no. I can use it like one, but I also do it for its own sake. Sometimes people make jokes without even thinking about it. Sometimes people tell jokes just for themselves.”

Jacopo broadcast an emotion that reminded Dantes of a sigh.

“I ask one question, and gain a dozen more.”

“It’s alright, you don’t need to understand humor, you’re naturally funny.”

Jacopo squeaked acknowledgement and crawled back into his pouch in the back of Dantes’ coat to watch his back.

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