Chapter 268: These Aren't the Druids You're Looking For

Chapter 268: These Aren't the Druids You're Looking For

"You arent going to turn us in, are you? I asked Grayson, only a little nervously.

He finished straightening his clothes and took his time checking everything was in its correct place before finally answering. No. He half-smiled, enjoying my awkwardness. There is no love lost between myself and the Shriners.

There was a collective sigh of relief from everyone around the table, although I never really thought he would report us to the Church of the Holy Shrine. He was too much of a stiff-neck to do something as ignoble as returning a favour with a slight. After all, he had allowed me to walk away after stabbing him because he considered it a reasonable thing for me to have done. Honestly, these heroic types boggle the mind.

People have a strange way of acting when theyre in the company of those they feel in friendly competition with. They wait for you to pick up your dropped sword. They allow you a pass if you have other more pressing business. They say harsh things to remind you they exist. Sometimes you need reminding. The best people can decide not to bother you, and so slip by unnoticed. Its only right when they do tap you on the shoulder that you acknowledge their presence. Would be rude not to.

I let out my own sigh. Thanks. Hows it feel? I said, making a little tap of my own.

He rubbed his side. Remarkable. They brought me here after our little disagreement he paused for a fraction of a second to let his tap supersede mine and the healers did their best to mend the wound, but their methods are crude and they refuse to change them. That would be sacrilege. It works once in a thousand, I would guess. Most, like me, are left alive but far worse off than they started.Follow current novels on novelb((in).(com)

He moved around a bit, bending and flexing like he was warming up for a yoga class.

Why didnt yo ever get married? asked Flossie out of nowhere.

Grayson stared at her for a long minute but it had no effect on the ditzy tart. She wanted to know, the same way girls want to know if the posh bird on a soap opera will go to bed with the nice doctor or the rough truck driver (both, you morons, shell shag them both).

Ignore her, I suggested. Its the accent. Half the time even she cant tell what just came out of her mouth.

Flossie looked offended. The Brummie accent is very noice, ackchoowalley, she said (or at least I think thats what came out of her mouth).

"I never stayed anywhere long enough, said Grayson. My unwed mother died when I was a baby, so my uncles family took me in. I had to work for my keep, so I was apprenticed out young. And one night I was coming back from delivering an order and some thieves jumped me. I killed all three of them. Standing there with bodies littered around me, scared out of my wits at what I'd done, but feeling a strange confidence in my ability to do it again. So I ran away and joined the army. Seemed the ideal profession for someone with my newly discovered skills. And I was constantly travelling after that, never met the kind of girl you settle down with. Lots of women, but, you know... you both just get down to business. It isn't especially romantic.

The three girls were looking at Grayson like hed just told them the most moving and tragic love story of recent times. What I heard in Graysons explanation was that hed rather fuck whores. Fair play to him.

Are you sure there isnt anyone in Gorgoth who might be a Visitor? I asked Grayson, keen to get him off the Mills & Boons book tour. Probably an older guy with special powers? Grayson was shaking his head at me. Maybe someone secretive people say odd things about. He stopped shaking his head, but still looked doubtful. Maybe quite rich but no one ever sees him.

There is one person who fits your description, but I dont think he is a Visitor. He has been part of this city for a long time.

That didnt sound like a reason to strike him off the list of possible candidates. The guy I was looking for was a contemporary of Peters, so hed been here at least a hundred years.

His name is Arta Askii. He is a very powerful magnate, but something of a recluse. His business dealings are all carried out by his subordinates, even at the highest level.

What business is he in? asked Maurice, notebook at the ready.

Youve seen the caravans entering the city? He was the one who organised the depots and warehouses where everything is unloaded and stored. Before him, people came and went as they saw fit, creating chaos. It was he that enabled the city to find its purpose, and flourish.

A middleman. Did no real work himself, but got paid for sorting out everyone elses problems. Sounded like he could be our man.

Where can we find him? I asked.

Grayson sat down, smiling at the lack of pain involved. Its hard to say. He has a palatial residence in the north part of the city, but whether hes in there or not, I couldnt tell you. He has numerous other properties dotted around the city, and then there are his offices near the port.

We didnt see any water on our way here, I said. Are we near the sea?

No, its a river port, under the city, said Grayson, eyeing me suspiciously. How did you arrive here?

You dont want to know, I told him.

It involves dragons, said Flossie in a lowered voice, like she was giving him a very cryptic hint.

Youre right, I dont want to know. He looked around the table at us. I must say, Im surprised it was your group that survived, but not altogether disappointed.

It was like a compliment wrapped in a cold fish, which was used to slap you in the face.

Thanks, I said. Can we stay here for the night?

Look, she said, indicating the room. I told you. Look how nice this room is. She turned to me. You should see the room they put us in. Horrible. Its racism. Because hes black.

It was nice of her to explain what racism meant, but I still doubted that was the reason theyd been given a shitty room. Maurice was clearly a lot darker than the indigenous population, but they never pointed it out. Even when they identified us as Visitors, they didnt use his skin colour as a way to tell. It made me wonder if they saw us the same way we saw ourselves.

You can have this room, I said.

Youre just going to give us your room? said Claire, her sails somewhat deflated.

I dont care. Which I didnt.

What about Jenny? asked Claire, looking over at the girl lying on the bed trying to buckle her belt.

Shell do what I tell her, I said.

Jenny stopped messing around with her dishevelled clothing and looked at me. She smirked. Ill do what he tells me, she confirmed.

Its hard for some people to understand how a proper relationship works. You dont need to say what you mean to make your meaning clear. Would Jenny really do whatever I told her? Not if she thought it was a terrible idea. But then, why would I ask her to do something like that?

We had an arrangement. She would support my decisions as best she could. In return, I would try to make decisions she would consider worth supporting. You might wonder why I wouldnt reciprocate by supporting decisions made by her. Because that was not our arrangement. If you wouldnt have made that deal, thats okay. I never asked you to.

Saying it out loud like she was my chattel, bound to follow my orders, was something else entirely. That was me being a dick to amuse myself. It got the eye-rolling response you would expect. Sometimes you say nasty things you dont mean to people just to remind them youre there. It made it easier for Claire to accept the offer, knowing what an undeserving bastard I was.

We crossed the hall to our new room. It was much smaller with a window directly opposite a wall. Below was an alley full of refuse, leading to a street at either end.

This really is a horrible room, said Jenny as she took off her clothes.

It was just about big enough for the bed, but we didnt need much more than that. My first place when I moved out was about the same size, plus one small electric hob in the corner, minus one naked girl on the bed.

I like it, I said.

What do you like about it? asked Jenny.

Its got you in it.

Jenny groaned. Thats the corniest thing youve ever said to me. Why does it make me so happy? She lengthened her naked body and stretched. Its one of those erotic things women do without realising. Yes, I know they do realise it, but its more fun pretending they dont.

I could see out of the window while sitting on the bed, it was that close. Jenny pulled my belt out of my trouser loops. Outside, there was a man standing at either end of the alley. A druid, judging by the bald head and heavily oiled beard.

It seemed unlikely to be a coincidence. Arrogant as it might be, my assumption was that they were here to watch us. The way Dereel and Deneel had reacted to us being Visitors suggested they werent big fans. They might not mean us any harm, but they could still be a problem.

As Jenny miraculously removed my trousers while I was sitting, another druid approached. He stopped by one of the men and they spoke. I flinched because they suddenly had tentacles growing out from their heads and winding around each other in a terrible embrace. I also flinched because of what Jenny was up to, but we wont go into that.

The druids retracted their tentacles into their heads and parted. Was this something to do with my powers? A glimpse into the adjacent world? My hands werent glowing, but considering the lack of reaction from people passing by I seemed to be the only one to have witnessed what had happened. Maybe it didnt mean anything, just how it looked when two people chatted from the perspective of someone with my useless ability.

A heroic type would have leaped out of the window, scaled the walls and then given chase across the rooftops, performing unnecessary acts of parkour along the way.

But Colin, I hear you say, arent all acts of parkour unnecessary?

To which my reply is, Yes, my sweet summer child, yes they are.

I didnt give chase. The druids could wait.

There was a loud knock on the door. I need to talk to you, insisted Claire. I could hear Maurice trying to calm her down in the background.

You open that door, said Jenny, and I will punch you in the face.

Sometimes you say nasty things you do mean, just to remind people youre there. The door remained closed.