Doors and doors

Thanks for reading! This blog shouldn't be taken too seriously. I don't always put a lot of thought into the entries; they are merely a way for me to: (a) test out a few jokes (b) work on dialogue and scene (c) develop the world of Korin, where my fantasy stories take place and (d) appear busy while I eat lunch, so I can avoid human interaction. Feel free to let me leave a comment or critique. 

Shonfiddylchamevven led us behind the bar to where a stack of old kegs was piled against a wall. He ducked behind them, and I saw a door that had been hidden. It was a stout thing, thick, ancient-looking wood reinforced with iron bands. Merrick's brother fished in his pocket and produced an enormous ring of keys. We waited while he searched through them, holding a few up to the weak light and immediately discarding others. 

"I know it's here," he said, somewhat apologetically. 

"I'm impressed that you were able to handle that taunting without killing seven or eight people," I told Broo Fang Tane while we stood by. "Perhaps you are one step closer toward having full control of your anger."

He gave me a meek, half-hearted smile, but said nothing. 

"Ah! This must be it!" Shonfiddylchamevven held up a key that looked no different than any others, then inserted it into the lock and twisted. I heard a click and the door parted from its jamb. He grinned and pushed it open, revealing a ten-foot cube with another stout door on the other side. He walked up and began fiddling with the keys again. "I know it's here somewhere," he mumbled.

"We might be here a while," Seymuhr said. "Perhaps we should have brought a chair with us."

"Safety first!" Shonfiddylchamevven called cheerfully. "This passageway leads almost directly into the queen's audience chamber. We cannot simply allow petitioners to walk in on her."

"Of course." 

After a few more minutes, he exhaled loudly, put a different key into the doorlock. "Fortunately, she doesn't get many visitors this way."

He pushed the door open, revealing another cube and another door.

"Bones of Barnok," I whispered, then added, louder: "What do you do when the matter is urgent?"

"There are only a few more," he replied, then returned his attention to his key ring. "I could have sworn I left them in order." 

I leaned against the wall, which was made from smooth, cut stone, and thought about what I would say to Pheadra if and when we finally got our audience. I was still slightly upset at learning of Merrick's Ministry of Human Preservation from Merrick, and not directly from the queen. I had had plenty of dealings with her and thought our relationship was more cordial than it would be with an average subject. Surely someone responsible for chronicling the history of Korin, as I was, was worthy of such a confidence? I wondered if I had been an unwitting participant in the MOHPs agenda in the past. 

"Here it is!" Shonfiddylchamevven sounded triumphant. I held my breath but released it after he opened the door to find another cube that differed from the previous two in that it contained two stout doors. "Let's see," he said. "Which one is it again? The left or the right? I always forget..."

I glanced at Tane, who looked lost in thought. I tried to adopt his attitude. Patience, it appeared, would be an important trait today. 

Catching up

Thanks for reading! This blog shouldn't be taken too seriously. I don't always put a lot of thought into the entries; they are merely a way for me to: (a) test out a few jokes (b) work on dialogue, and scene (c) build up the world of Korin, where my fantasy stories take place and (d) appear busy while I eat lunch, so I can avoid human interaction. Feel free to let me leave a comment or critique. 

I told him the tale of the mountain witch's end, and Merrick's role in it. He grew somber as I recounted Merrick's final moments and our attempts to help him. Then he sat quietly, absorbing everything. A single tear spilled out of his eye and rolled down his cheek. He wiped it away, then grunted with a single nod. 

"A fitting end."

"I did not know him long, but I knew him well," I said. "He was a great man. We live on in his shadow."

"Everyone lives in his shadow," Seymuhr added. I was about to give him a nod of appreciation for the sentiment, but then he nudged Merrick's brother and said: "because he was fat. Not as fat as you, of course--that would be rare, indeed--but fat enough to cast a shadow that many people could li..."

"I think we understand your jest, if that is what you want to call it," I told him, then turned back to Merrick's brother. "Forgive my companion. His words are about as graceful as a two-legged mule."

He glanced at the prone body, then at Seymuhr, who stared at him with an inviting smile on his face. If he thought about answering the insult, he gave no indication. 

"Now you seek to deliver this news to the queen?" He asked, instead. 

I nodded. "I have had some dealings with her in the past, although not to the extent that your esteemed brother did. I would carry the news to her in person. For some reason, we were guided to this place, instead."

"I would think you would understand, given the nature of your companions and their appearance," he said. "The queen gets many, many requests for an audience each day and we cannot just let anyone greet her. It was only because you showed the symbol at the gate that you made it this far."

"We cannot?"

He stood and offered his hand. "Precisely. Call me Shonfiddylchamevven. I can take you to the queen."

"Shonfiddyl...."

"Aye, Shonfiddylchamevven," he repeated impatiently. "Just like it's spelled. Come now, and bring your companions as well."

We stepped over the body on the floor and headed, not to the front door of the tavern, but toward the back. Shonfiddyl--Merrick's brother--swept aside a curtain that revealed a dimly lit, but perfectly straight, hallway that led into the hill. Seymuhr fell insto step behind me and Tane followed him, still wiping the dampness from his ear.

A tense encounter

Thanks for reading! This blog shouldn't be taken too seriously. I don't always put a lot of thought into the entries; they are merely a way for me to: (a) test out a few jokes (b) work on dialogue, and scene (c) build up the world of Korin, where my fantasy stories take place and (d) appear busy while I eat lunch, so I can avoid human interaction. Feel free to let me leave a comment or critique. 

That said, here's where we are:
Reunited with their companion, Broo Fang Tane, the freelance historian Esmiralda and Seymuhr, the odd brawler known as Skullsquasher, resume their journey to the palace in Veral Ski, where they would report to Queen Phedora on the death o their companion, Merrick, a leader in the mysterious Ministry of Human Preservation....

"Your brother?" I looked him up and down. I did not see the resemblance. Both men were tall and broad, but Merrick's hair had curled like burnt twine and, despite his size, he carried his weight well, like the accustomed traveler he was. This man had far more fat than muscle, hair the color of bloody piss and a nose like a radish.

"You bear his symbol, no?" He pointed at the Ministry of Human Preservation bauble that I had showed the guard at the inner gate. I cursed myself for not hiding it better, or realizing it may have been personalized in some way. I had assumed that every member of the secret cult wore or carried the same sigil. "He would not give that up. Not while he lived."

"Alas, he does not." I felt a strange weariness when I uttered those words, as if speaking them recalled the sadness of his passing once more. "But I was not his enemy--nor were these men, here--we were traveling companions, I guess you would say. Friends."

It was his turn to look me up and down. I could see he wasn't impressed, either. "Never did agree with his taste in women," he mumbled. "I ask you again. What brings you here? And what became of him?"

I gestured to an empty table. "Can we sit?"

"It doesn't look like sitting would be the problem," Seymuhr put in, "but I'd place wagers on whether he could get back to his feet." He leaned back, arms crossed, a faint smile on his face.

The fat man's face flushed red and he lumbered forward. "You dare insult me?"

Seymuhr nodded with enthusiasm. "Dare? How could I not?"

"Please, please," I stepped between them, cringing because I half-expected to be struck down. "We are all friends here, though we don't realize it yet. Please sir, I offer my sincere condolences for your brother. He was a good man, a keen wit and he'll be missed."

Near the bar, Tane sat slumped over an empty bowl. Another man, snickering, crept up behind him and stuck his pinky in his mouth. He looked over his shoulder at his companions, who chuckled and urged him on. He moved the digit around in his mouth and pulled it out, gleaming with spit, then jabbed the soaked finger into Tane's ear and twisted it.

"Oh. Bones of Barnok," I breathed. "You thrice-cursed fool, you've killed us all!"

But Tane did not react, other than to pull his hand out of his sleeve and use his shirt to dry his ear. I exhaled.

"Let us speak of it. And quickly. My companion is not known for holding his temper."

"That he is not!" Damp pinky shouted. He stood directly behind Tane. "I know you. You'd be Broo Fang Tane, is that right? A monk of the Order of Optimists?"

Tane nodded, but did not turn to face his questioner.

"You killed my sister and seven of her friends because she wiped her nose on your sleeve." He leaned in close. My heart hammered. "Do you remember her?"

Tane did not answer, but Seymuhr did. "Oh. I remember that." He rocked back on his heels, stroking his chin with one eye half-closed as if he were a maedrum thinking up a new spell or trying to solve an ancient riddle. "Your sister: she drooled a lot, isn't that right? Like a creek flowing from a dirty hole in the ground?"

The man gaped at Seymuhr. Then his mouth quivered as he tried to formulate an answer.

"You remember that one, don't you Tane? You slapped her so hard all her fleas jumped off," Seymuhr chortled, amused by his own words.

"Please," I held up my hands. "Good sir, I am sorry for your loss and regret any part my comrade may have played in it. It is a terrible sadness, I am sure, but nothing we do here today can bring your sister back to us--and there's no reason to send half a dozen more souls to keep her company."

"Perhaps not," the man, his face still red as a fresh scab, admitted. Perhaps Seymuhr's thick, muscular form dissuaded him from pursing any violent action. "But I will still have my justice. I miss my sister."

"So do I," Seymuhr agreed with another chuckle. "She was not as much fun as your mother, but..."

The man howled in rage and rushed Seymuhr, who stood his ground and knocked him to the floor with a swift punch. He fell flat, arms outstretched, and moved no more.

"What is wrong with you? You'll have the city Shield upon us any minute!"

He shrugged and gestured to Tane. "I don't think so. This man will live with a bruise to his chin and pride. It is better than the alternative."

I blinked. Tane still hadn't turned around, so he didn't see the look that passed between Seymuhr and I. It was true, when Tane's temper got the better of him, he caused more carnage than an angry bull in an orphanage. Seeing how quickly Seymuhr had knocked Tane's accuser senseless, everyone else in the tavern had returned to their seats, glancing only occasionally in our direction. Maybe he had saved some lives.

"Well. Perhaps. Still, we should be gone before he wakes; already our errand has been delayed far too long." I turned from the prone man and back to fat man who had accosted me. "Now, about your brother..."

Bring out the MoHPs

Thanks for reading! This blog shouldn't be taken too seriously. I don't always put a lot of thought into the entries; they are merely a way for me to: (a) test out a few jokes (b) work on dialogue, and scene (c) build up the world of Korin, where my fantasy stories take place and (d) appear busy while I eat lunch, so I can avoid human interaction. Feel free to let me leave a comment or critique. 

That said, here's where we are:
Reunited with their companion, Broo Fang Tane, the freelance historian Esmiralda and Seymuhr, the odd brawler known as Skullsquasher, resume their journey to the palace in Veral Ski, where they would report to Queen Phedora on the death o their companion, Merrick, a leader in the mysterious Ministry of Human Preservation....

A tavern. I hesitated, unsure if I should risk the knock or the trip inside. Taverns presented a habitual problem for Broo Fang Tane. The man was on a journey to find peace, but there were still many, many steps ahead of him. 

He sensed my concern. "It will be...well," he said. 

"Well? When was the last time you were in a tavern and it went 'well.' Not since I've known you."

"There is always a...first...time," he said, and pushed through the door.

"Spoken like a true optimist," I muttered and followed him.

The room inside had already gone silent. All eyes were on Tane as he moved across the floor, heading toward an empty table near the far corner. He kept his head down. 

"We're not looking for any trouble," I said. There weren't too many people in the tavern, which I counted as a good thing. I glanced around, still wondering why we had been shown to this place, rather than the audience with the queen I had been expecting. There was nothing regal--or even much that was clean--about it. 

"What are you looking for, then?" A woman behind the counter called it out. She was short, thin, with gray hair pulled into a single tail that hung over her left ear. She wore a stained, vaguely colored shirt over patched stockings. 

"Uhhh..." I was not sure how to answer. 'The queen' seemed like a ridiculous thing to say. Clearly, for some reason, we had been misdirected. I did not think it sensible to brandish the symbol for the Ministry of Human Preservation, either. If there was some code word to utter, I did not know it. 

"How fresh is your spider?" Seymuhr asked, shouldering me aside.

"The spider is always fresh," she answered with, I thought, a touch of pride. 

"Good! Hurry it up, then. A man could starve waiting for a good bowl of spiderfat soup." 

The woman lingered, gazing pointedly at Tane. "Not a word out of you. I know your type and we've got more pressing things on our minds than, than..."her voice rose and she continued in a mocking tone: 'good tidings'."

Tane nodded, a glum gesture, tucked his hands into his sleeves and sat on the bench with his back facing the room. Seymuhr followed him. 

"Worry not," I told her. "We are just here for some food, apparently." Some of the other patrons returned their attention to their bowls, but a few others looked our way, whispered amongst themselves, and snickered. I motioned for Seymurh to lean in. "I don't think I thought this through."

He shrugged. "Perhaps not. But I like this place."

"I think we should leave. This can't be where we're supposed to meet the queen."

"Oooooh, meeting up with the queen, are ya?" The tavern wench said, much too loudly, as she plopped down three bowls of grayish liquid in front of us. "Well, why didn't ye say so? I'll just go and fetch her majesty right away!" She leaned in, cupped her hand around her mouth and whispered in a tone that was half conspiratorial, half understanding. "She's just finishing up some dishes."

"Queen?" I announced with a nervous chuckle. "Why would you say that? Meet the queen. Us? Why would three humble travelers expect to meet with the queen? Why...why we wouldn't presume to speak to so much as a land baron...What I said was 'I hope the meat is clean'."

She blanched at this and the room went deadly silent. "Well now. I serve the finest spider flanks this side of the wall, missie, and I'll cut anyone who says otherwise. Now I can fetch the queen, like I said, but if you're going to go around insulting my food, then we are going to have a quarrel."

I held up my hands. "I meant no disrespect to you or this, um, fine place, madam, I just..."

"So now you call me a madam? Is that it? I defend my business and you suggest I peddle in flesh?" Her voice was rising and more of her customers were looking at us. Some shifted in their seats, as if they were ready to leap at us. 

"No. No. Of course not. Not that there's anything wrong with that, if you do..."

She suddenly lifted her head and cackled, then walked away.

"Pay her no mind," a man had appeared behind me. "She doesn't own the place. Nor does she work here. She just wandered in one day, said her name was Jasper and she had spent most of her life as a goat."

"Explains the laugh," Seymuhr said. 

"But nothing else," I added. "What are you talking about? A goat? She does not work here? Where did she get those bowls of soup?"

"I don't know," the man answered. He was tall, with a belly that hung over his belt and black hair that resembled an overturned plate of noodles. "A better question, for you, at least--and I would think carefully before I answered it--is this: What have you done with my brother? Where is Merrick?"

Through the gate

Thanks for reading! 
This blog shouldn't be taken to seriously. I don't always put a lot of thought into the entries; they are merely a way for me to: (a) test out a few jokes (b) work on dialogue, and scene (c) build up the world of Korin, where my fantasy stories take place and (d) appear busy while I eat lunch, so I can avoid human interaction. Feel free to let me leave a comment or critique. 

That said, here's where we are:
Reunited with their companion, Broo Fang Tane, the freelance historian Esmiralda and Seymuhr, the odd brawler known as Skullsquasher, resume their journey to the palace in Veral Ski, where they would report to Queen Phedora on the death o their companion, Merrick, a leader in the mysterious Ministry of Human Preservation....

The bauble worked, although it took some convincing to get Seymuhr and Broo Fang Tane to come with me. Seymuhr earned the most suspicious looks from the guards at the Noble Gate. They walked around him, slowly, sizing him up and down as if he were a cow they wished to purchase for meat or milk. Both guards were taller than Seymuhr--as was I and, in fact, most adults--but the well-used maces hanging from his hips drew a few questions. In the end, they tied them in place with some stout twine.

Tane, the poor man, was the subject of open scorn and a stern warning. "If you speak one word of cheer, I'll make mittens out of your tongue," the taller of the two guards snarled at him.

"I only have...one," the monk replied. "My...tongue woul...d not make a com...plete pair."

"That's the spirit," the guard answered. 

"Maybe a pirate could use a tongue-mitten," Seymuhr suggested. "Most of them only have one hand, anyway."

"Perhaps," the glum monk agreed.

We fell in step behind two more guards, who had answered a summoning bell as soon as I displayed the symbol of the Ministry of Human Preservation. I was left to wonder about the power of it; even I, a freelance historian well-versed in the ways of Korin and many of its cultures, was not familiar with the secretive group, yet the mere showing of it at the gate was enough to gain us passage. Was it only known to a select few who manned this post? Was it widely acknowledged in Veral Ski? Or had the queen been expecting to hear from Merrick who, until recently, had been an agent of the MOHP?

There was also this puzzle, which I had just entered my mind. Queen Phedora was, technically, my employer. It was her charge to preserve the history of the land that created the mission of the falcuhns to begin with. Falcuhns were people, gifted with observational skills and who could read and write, who were tasked with going out into the world of Korin and documenting what they saw. Why had Phedora not discussed this MOHP with me? Did she not think I was worthy?

I would find out soon. The Shieldsmen took an abrupt turn ahead of us, guiding us off of the main street that led to the primary castle gate. We found ourselves in shadow, following a tight alleyway between two buildings, past piles of stinking garbage. They stopped in front of a door set back into the wall so far that it might not have attracted notice had we not been guided to it.

"What is this? Aren't we to be guided to the queen?"

He gave a stiff nod, then backed down the alley way. 

I looked back to the door. I could hear, barely, the sounds of muted music from the other side, and conversation. I was about to raise my hand to knock on the door when I realized what it was.

"Bones of Barnok," I said, glancing down at Broo Fang Tane, who in no way mixed well with others. "It's a tavern."

Up the hill

Reunited with their companion, Broo Fang Tane, the freelance historian Esmiralda and Seymuhr, the odd brawler known as Skullsquasher, resume their journey to the palace in Veral Ski, where they would report to Queen Phedora on the death o their companion, Merrick, a leader in the mysterious Ministry of Human Preservation....

We left the bodies in the street. Behind us, the swaying tavern patrons who had witnessed the brief scuffle began to wager on which one would rise first: the girl who had stubbed her toe and tumbled on the hard cobbled streets of Veral Ski, or the man who had confronted Seymuhr over his reaction. Had I any spare coin, I would have placed it on the girl. She was at least trying to collect herself. Seymuhr's assailant lay still.

"I hardly think that was necessary."

Seymuhr shrugged. His voice was raspy but he didn't sound concerned. "He made the challenge. I accepted. Perhaps he'll think twice before he threatens someone smaller than him again."

"If he can still think," I murmured.

"I, for one, hope he can...change," Broo Fang Tane put in. "I have...hopes...that I will someday be a...ble to walk in...to a tavern or down the...street without maiming someone."

"I share that hope," I replied. Broo Fang Tane had a gift for attracting violence. It could have been his cheerful expression, slight frame, monk's robes or his happy demeanor--or a combination of all those things. Rarely in my life had I seen anyone who sparked mischief in other people or attracted such a level of brazen assholery. "Now would be a good time to keep a tight reign on your temper. We are entering a portion of the city where we can't just leave bodies in the streets and mass slaughter is, in general, frowned upon."

"It is always a good....time," said the crestfallen monk. "I only...wish it were that...easy."

"You're easy!" Seymuhr laughed. Tane gave him a quizzical look and I told him I would explain Seymuhr's latest idiocy. 

The structures indeed showed a little more care than those in the center of the city. They stood straighter, taller and were separated by alleyways that were even occasionally clean. IN many cases, sturdy-looking men lounged about their entrances, keeping an eye on the foot traffic in the street as well as eyeing potential customers up and down. This close to the Noble Gate, merchants were just as concerned about maintaining an environment that would appeal to their more skittish clients as they were anything else. Hiring older Shieldsmen to maintain peace and intimidate the occasional ne'er do well who climbed this far into Veral Ski was a common practice.

We drew more than a few glances. Seymuhr, short but powerful and armed with his two maces, caused the men to touch their own blades as we walked by. Broo Fang Tane, the poor man, was the recipient of a few hurled insults. I adjusted my own posture, striding purposefully forward, head held high, but was ignored.

"Just ignore them," I murmured. "They'll do no harm if we keep moving and act like we belong here."

"I thought you did belong here," Seymuhr said. "Visiting the queen was your idea, was it not?"

"It was. Truth be told, I am not sure she will receive us, or how she will bear the sad news that we must convey." I paused, for we were nearing the next gate, and tried to straighten my garments and control my hair. I reached for Merrick's bauble and was comforted to find it, tucked away in the place I had hidden it to protect it from pickpockets.

"And how do you ex...pect...to gain au....di...ence with the queen?" Tane wanted to know.

"I'm working on it," I answered. We stepped forward into the shadow of the Noble Gate.

Better luck next time

Reunited with their companion, Broo Fang Tane, the freelance historian Esmiralda and Seymuhr, the odd brawler known as Skullsquasher, resume their journey to the palace in Veral Ski, where they would report to Queen Phedora on the death o their companion, Merrick, a leader in the mysterious Ministry of Human Preservation....

Outside, the smell of the market lingered in the air and the muted sounds of merchants drifted up the winding roadway. The street in front of me was more silent, with travelers of all types moving up and down the street, shouldering burdens or pretending to look around so that they could catch their breath after climbing the steep grade. Every now and then a child would run by, leaning down the hill and trying to keep his or her balance as they raced down the slope, giggling. One, a girl with a blond pony tail, lost control of her momentum and squealed as her feet tangled and she flipped into the air to land jarringly on the cobbled roadway. She tumbled a short distance and lay, groaning.

"Better luck next time!" Someone called from the shade of an awning, and a few other witnesses chuckled at the girl's misfortune.

Seymuhr was one of those. He stood outside a tavern on the other side of the thoroughfare and wiped the ale he had just spit from his mouth as he barked out a laugh. He pointed and then slapped the man next to him on the back, accidentally knocking him to the ground, as well.

I hissed as I crossed to him. "What's the matter with you?"

He looked confused and glanced over his body. "Nothing," he replied, his voice grating like two broken plates. "Why do you ask?"

I pointed to where the girl still lay moaning. She was trying to push herself up onto her knees without much success. She shook her head, wiped her lip and then pressed her forehead against the stone again. "You find someone else's misfortunes funny?"

He shrugged. "When they look like that, I do." He took another sip of his ale. Meanwhile, the man he had slapped was standing again and looking very displeased.

"You better watch yourself, friend," he growled. He stood a head taller than Seymuhr, as many people did.

"Hold this," Seymuhr said, thrusting his mug toward me. I tried  not to let me excitement show. This was just the opportunity I was looking for. I fumbled for the flask I had recently purchased and turned away, mumbling to him to not do anything that would get us into any trouble.

"No trouble at all," he said.

The other man smiled. "Should I get you something to stand on?" He cracked his fists as he taunted Seymuhr, then lashed out with his right hand. It landed solidly on the side of Semuhr's head, but he barely moved. Instead he buried his left fist into the taller man's abdomen and then knocked him still with a single crashing blow from his right. He snatched his mug from me and took a great gulp.

I managed to hide the flask again, but just barely.

Seymuhr grained the glass, then looked into it and smacked his lips together. "Tastes a little funny," he mused.

I put an innocent expression on my face and blinked rapidly. "Is that so? It smelled fine. Come, let us leave this place while there are only two bodies in the street."

I led the way with Seymuhr behind me. Tane, with a bemused look on his face, followed.