Chapter 313: The Stupid Fat Face of Adversity

Chapter 313: The Stupid Fat Face of Adversity

Of course, I knew they were coming. Im not stupid. The moment someone mentioned there was a bunch of guys who didnt like people selling unauthorised fish, it was only a matter of time before our paths crossed.

And when Damicar indicated that he was under a cooking embargo, opening up for business meant I was on a collision course with his persecutors, too.

If you cant avoid trouble, you should at least arrange for it to come to you when youre good and ready for it. And I was.

The only question was which group was this?

Oh, dear, said Damicar, standing behind me and peering over my shoulder. Im afraid this is my fault.

Is it? Are you sure? The group swaggering down the street towards us didnt look like a delegation from Restaurateurs Guild. But then, they would hardly do their dirty work themselves.

Theyre warehousemen. My uncle sent them.

While wed been setting up for the evening rush (in our case, one customer would have been a new record), Damicar had waxed lyrical about his family problems, which were the same as his business ones. His uncle.

Uncle Malmur took me in after my mother and father died in a horrific fire. You will come live with me and your aunt, he said. You are still a child, but you are not alone, even though your parents have both left this world. I am your fathers brother, so you will treat me with the same respect you would him. You will obey my instructions and follow the rules of my house. In return, you will be treated with love, and this will be your home. Your father was not only my brother, but also my partner, and one day you will take his place by my side. You are no less precious to me than my own children, but that does not mean I will stand for laziness or insolence. When you are old enough, you will make your own decisions. Then my instructions will become suggestions, and it will be up to you whether you wish to follow my advice. I will always be here for you, until I am not. You can rely on me. I hope I can rely on you. I was very grateful for his generosity and warm welcome. He gave me a room above the stables, and whipped me every day.

Damicar liked to talk. I didnt mind, it was like having the radio on in the background, with some DJ reading out a letter from a listener while sad music played underneath.

My husband left me, the cat died, and I just found out I have cancer. Can you please play Smack My Bitch Up by The Prodigy.

It was easy enough to let him ramble on as I tidied up. His uncle and his dad ran the fish business in Gorgoth, until his father passed and Uncle Malmur took control. No one sold so much as a sardine without paying respect to him. And by respect, I mean cash money.

Why did he beat you? I asked Damicar as he busily toiled over four woks at the same time. He clearly knew what he was doing. Competence is fascinating to watch, especially when you see it as rarely as I do.

He said hed treat me like his own children, and so he did. Damicar didnt seem too upset by his poor treatment.

Did he make them live with the animals, too?

Oh, no. They lived in the house.

And he whipped them?

Not as such. Not actual whippings. But, you know, the implication was there.

What implication? That they might get treated like you?

Exactly. You understand. In many ways, he put me ahead of his own children.

Damicars approach to survival was to pretend he didnt need saving. You had to admire that. It did mean having to go slightly insane, but he did it with a smile on his face, and that was the important thing. You already feel bad, why make your abuser feel bad, too?

Because, in my experience, if theres one thing vile people hate, its being made to feel like theyre doing something vile. Absolutely cant stand it.

And hes the one who didnt want your business being a success? I asked.

That hasnt been proven.

But these are his men. You said he sent them, so hes giving the orders, right?

I misspoke. Without proof, technically, that would be slander.

Are you worried about being taken to court?

It would look bad for the family.

Your uncles family?

Yes. My family.

Thats the great thing about abusing someone when they were a child, you can twist their minds into whatever shape you like.

I hadnt figured out exactly why his uncle wanted his nephew to fail probably something to do with keeping the family business to himself but I was sure it was no concern of mine.

Why take him into his home in the first place, if thats how he felt about it?

Again, not for me to involve myself with. I just wanted to make enough money to buy myself a ticket out of here. And these large gentlemen with their home-made tattoos were in my way.

My approach to making money hadnt exactly been on the QT, but even if Id tried to play it sneaky-beaky, theyd still have found me. And this was just the first wave. If there were two groups gunning for me, I fully expected the other lot to turn up when it was the most inconvenient. My new approach to the single life had prepared me to expect the worst. Here it was, right on cue. I didnt take it personally. This was just business.

Where did you purchase your fish, said the little man. He had a squeaky voice to match his squinty eyes.

I didnt, I caught them.

Theres an import duty on all fish and fowl brought into the city, he said. Id like to see your payment chit, please.

I dont have one.

The crowd gasped between bites. There was a lot of shaking of heads, and looks of sympathy. It was like they were at a public hanging, and loving every minute of it.

Damicar was still bringing out food, and I was passing it around. The crowd were gobbling it up like popcorn.

Ooooh, thats not good, said the taxman. He opened his ledger and made notes. All foods prepared for sale must go through customs. A payment chit is to be produced on request if made by an authorised official of the City of Gorgoth.

And are you an authori

He had his card out before I even finished. I had no idea if it was real, but it probably was.

No chit means Ill have to close you down.

But we arent selling anything, I said.

But you havent paid duty on the fish.

What fish? The food was all gone. Wed made exactly no money, and had sold out. The perfect price point.

The taxman looked confused. As did the men behind him.

But You

Show me the evidence, I said.

You, the taxman said to a happily chewing bystander, give me that. He tried to snatch the last bit of food from the mans hand. The man stuffed it into his face. Anyone with food left did the same.

Here we are, said Damicar, coming out with yet another platter.

Aha! said the taxman.

Onion rings, said Damicar. My latest creation.

I might have suggested the idea to him, but I was happy to let him take the credit.

Do you charge duty on onions? I asked. They grew in nooks and crannies all over the city, so you couldnt slap an import tariff on them.

By this time the people had been won over by Damicars skills, and pounced on the savoury snacks.

Hey! Whats going on here! A man in an apron pushed his way through the crowds. Why is my place empty? What are you making trouble for? This, surprisingly, wasnt aimed at me. It was said to the lead thug. Im fully paid up. Why are you causing such a ruckus?

Its him, whined the thug, pointing at me. Hes giving away free food. Thats why youve got no customers.

What are you doing that for? said the new arrival. You cant do that. We all have to make a living.

Dont blame us, I said. Blame Uncle Malmur.

You see, I had it all under control. Win the people over, get that populist vote on my side, and then make it clear Malmur was the culprit making life difficult for honest, hardworking folk. Uncle Malmur would have to make a move. He might even try to buy me off with a bribe. Fingers crossed.

This is great, said someone in the crowd, mouth full of food. But what were those fish balls from earlier.

Thank you, thank you so much, said Damicar, his heart bursting with pride because of the way his cooking had been received. He didnt give a fuck about making money, he just wanted to cook. They were all different types. I call it my creek fish medley.

Silence fell like a wet glass from a childs hand.

Creek fish? said the taxman. Where did you catch them?

The creek just south of the city, I said. Seemed innocent enough. Some really crazy fish in there.

The creek? said the lead thug, aghast. The old poison pit?

Everyone started spitting out their food and forcing themselves to throw up. I could feel the populist vote slipping away. I just hoped none of them was the local restaurant critic.