No replies to this topic

[Laufey]

Chapter 7

He's got your number now
He knows just what you've done
You got no place to hide
you got nowhere to run
He knows your life of crime
I think it's suppertime

‘Suppertime’, Little Shop Of Horrors

Edwin 2 and Edwin 3 both got looks of bug-eyed horror on their faces that Edwin would have found very comical under other circumstances. Then, Edwin 3 scrambled under the bed, while Edwin 2 hurriedly squeezed into the big armoire standing in one corner of the room. Edwin hoped the rude simulacrum wouldn’t destroy any of his clothes while hiding among them. Mother wouldn’t be happy at all about that. Edwin himself pushed the bloody nightshirt under his pillow, then plopped down on the floor and grabbed a random book, pretending to be busy reading. When his mother entered he looked up and smiled, attempting to look as innocent as he possibly could. It looked as if it might be necessary too – his mother had that stiff-necked look about her, as if she was only just barely keeping herself from tearing things to pieces with her bare hands. She did smile at him however – and then she noticed his face.

“Edwin Mordred Alexander Odesseiron! What have you been doing?” Before Edwin had the time to reply, she had already wrapped him firmly in her arms, squeezing him against her bosom. “What happened to your beautiful little face, darling?” Her voice turned into a chilling hiss. “Tell Mother all about it, at once, and I will turn whoever dared molest my own baby inside out! I will make their ending such that it would make strong men weep, and I will make it slow!” Then her voice dropped back into a soothing murmur as she kissed his cheek. “Some demons perhaps…gradually peeling their putrid flesh from their bones…go on, dearest! Tell your Mother.”

For a brief moment, Edwin was very tempted to obey. Then he thought better of it. After all, suppose she got angry with him for playing with old artifacts when he wasn’t quite sure what they did? And he had stolen it too…technically speaking. “Um…it’s nothing, Mother,” he feebly said. Being hugged as he was, at least she couldn’t see his face. “It was an accident, really. I was playing, and wasn’t looking where I was going, see. It hardly hurts at all anymore.”

“Are you certain?” his mother asked, holding him a little away from her as she scrutinized him. “Edwin dearest, I know you want to be a big brave boy, but there really is no need to pretend in front of me.”

“I am big and brave, Mother! I’m almost seven, remember?”

“Of course, dear. We will say no more of it, and I will make certain you take a healing potion before your bedtime.”

“But Mother, I don’t need…”

“Edwin!”

Edwin sighed. He didn’t much relish his simulacrums listening in to this. There really wasn’t much he could do about it though. “Yes, Mother.”

“Good boy,” his mother said, smiling warmly at him as she ruffled his hair. “That’s my own little darling lamb. Now, what were you doing in here before I came in? I could swear I heard you talking to somebody.”

Edwin felt little beads of sweat forming on his forehead. “I was…I was…talking to myself! Yes, that’s it! Talking to myself!”

His mother gave him a long and penetrating look, during which Edwin felt sure his stomach would jump out through his mouth and flop onto the floor. “Talking to yourself? Why would you…” Then she nodded decisively. “Oh, of course. I have read about this, dear. It isn’t all that uncommon in an only child, to make up little playmates for yourself. Is that what you were doing?”

There was a faint bumping noise from the armoire, and Edwin just barely managed to conceal it by coughing loudly. “Ah…er…yes, Mother! That’s what I was doing. Yes.” It’s sort of true. I did make them up.

“Well, that is all right then.” She stood, and smiled at him as she turned to leave. “Many children do that. I had an invisible friend myself when I was your age…one whom I used to blame all my pranks on. Now, mind you be careful, or I will have a word with your little ‘friends’.” Then her smile acquired a bit of an edge. “And remember this much, darling…if they make mischief, I will hold you responsible for them.”

“Yes Mother,” Edwin said, his heart heavy. He could already see disaster looming heavily on the horizon. “Mother? Where’s Teacher Dekaras? There was something I wanted to ask him about.”

Edwin was looking directly at his mother as he asked his question, and so he was able to see the almost imperceptible tightening of her lips. “He is not at home at the moment,” she simply said. “There was something he needed to attend to. I will let him know that you asked after him once he gets back. That might not be until late this evening though.”

“Can’t I stay up and wait for him? Please?”

“No, dear. Now go back to your playing – and remember what I said.”

Once his mother had left, Edwin ushered his two clones out into the open again. “What do we do dow?” Edwin 3 asked. His nose had now swollen to the size and color of a ripe tomato, although it wasn’t bleeding any longer.

“We still need to make Elvira 2 grow really big,” Edwin 2 said. “Let’s try that blood spell.”

“Do! Let’s go sidg to her!”

“Actually,” Edwin said. “Let’s do both.”

-*-

Rory ‘The Roarer’ Ravonar lived on the other side of the Inner City, in a glorious mansion that could almost rival that of the Odesseirons. Almost, but not quite, much like the man himself. Dekaras had visited it before, and he hadn’t used the front door that time either. Although tonight he didn’t mean to actually go inside – it was the garden that was his target. The assassin didn’t doubt for a second that Ravonar would attempt to cheat in the contest, and it was only prudent to try to determine exactly how and sabotage his efforts if possible. He certainly didn’t intend to let some ridiculous bet force him into serving Ravonar, but neither did he mean to allow his lover to put herself at risk for his sake. No, Elvira 2 had to do better than whatever Ravonar was entering into the contest.

The garden was well kept, with neatly trimmed emerald lawns, and garden paths raked to perfection. Trees, bushes and flowers, all had been made to grow in the exact spot where they would be to their best advantage. It was all very pretty, but ultimately boring, Dekaras decided. There was one great advantage to it though. Given the symmetrical placement of the trees, and the fact that the guards patrolling the garden tended to patrol in equally rigid patterns, it was very easy to stay out of sight. It didn’t take him long to reach his goal, a large greenhouse on the far side of the garden. The thing was brightly lit up, and glowed like a sun in the dark garden. Inside, he could see a thick tangle of green, presumably plants valuable or delicate enough that Ravonar wanted to provide them with extra protection. That would be where his entry for the competition was kept, whatever it was. There was one problem though. Rory Ravonar was moving about inside, the light shining off his bald head. The wizard’s lips were moving, and though it wasn’t possible to hear what he was saying, Dekaras managed to pick up a sense of it from reading his lips.

“Grow for me…oh grow for me…” Rory Ravonar was humming to himself as he lugged about a large watering pail, now and then pausing to admire one of his plants. “Grow for me, my pretty friends, grow for me, to serve my needs…” He ducked to avoid the lashing vines of a large light green creeper vine, vines as thick as a man’s arm, and certainly thick enough to strangle him.

Dekaras carefully moved closer, determined to get a better look. So far he had no idea of which plant was the one meant to enter the contest, and that was what he needed to find out. Then he noticed something else. A blonde head became visible behind a thorny bush. Ravonar’s daughter, Zabina. Her back was turned, so he couldn’t make out what she told her father. He picked up Ravonar’s answer though. “Oh yes, my pretty poppet! They’re quite ready. Soon your father will be the mightiest man in the city, just you wait! The Sapphire Seed Feed was just the thing necessary to aid me with the necessary mutations.”

Sapphire Seed Feed… Dekaras recognized the name. He wasn’t exactly a gardener himself, but the Sapphire Seed Feed Scandal was something everybody had heard of. It had been the invention of a keenly ambitious, but sadly demented Red Wizard by the name of Orin Bicuspis. The bright blue plant food in question had worked all right, but it had also caused all the plants that it was used on to magically mutate in ways that sometimes were amusing, but sometimes outright fatal. It had been banned after the Tharchion found that his favorite rose bushes had developed the ability to shoot foot long thorns at anybody trying to pick any of the flowers, but apparently Ravonar had managed to get hold of some all the same. Dekaras wasn’t particularly surprised by this. You could usually get hold of whatever you wanted in Thay, illegal or not, as long as you were able to pay for it.

Ravonar and his daughter were leaving the greenhouse now, him holding her by the hand. “Are the plants all done now, Daddy?” Zabina asked.

“Oh yes. One more dose of Sapphire Seed Feed tomorrow night for the yellow one. The other one is perfect as it is.”

“Will I get to help you rule the city, Daddy?”

“Certainly, my poppet! You may order the whippings if you like…I know you enjoy that.”

“Yay!”

Dekaras waited until he was absolutely sure they were out of sight before he quietly approached the greenhouse. It wasn’t locked, which surprised him momentarily. As soon as he entered though, he understood the reason for that seeming lapse in security. A churning mass of moving greenery stood in front of him, an impenetrable jungle of lashing tentacles, strangling creepers and foot-long thorns. There were narrow paths between the plants, but any one of them seemed extremely dangerous. Right before him was a low bush, with dark green and thick leaves, growing from purple thorny stalks. There were berries growing on it, plump greenish-white berries that smelled delicious. Dekaras didn’t know if they actually were, of if they were poisonous enough for a single one to kill him, and he didn’t mean to find out. Those thorns looked sharp, and he noticed that as he took a step closer the leaves reached out, trying to grab him and pull him closer.

To his left was a low-growing plant with sticky, white stems and very large flowers of a sickly pale yellow color. There was a faint buzzing sound coming from it, one of moment…and then the stems bent backwards and straightened up again. A swarm of needle-sharp thorns, each one enough to take an eye out, whistled through the air, shot out with the strength of a catapult.

Dekaras counted himself very fortunate that he was as good at dodging as he was. It had come in handy more than once. All the same, he couldn’t recall any occasion on which it had been quite as close a call as this one. The thorns whistled over his head as he threw himself to the ground, coming within a fraction of an inch from tearing his scalp off, and an errant one actually managed to tear his cheek, giving him a nasty cut. I hope that’s not poisonous. At least the bleeding wasn’t too heavy, and he had managed to build up an immunity to quite a few toxins over the years. He didn’t think it would be a good idea to trust to luck though. Far better to trust in the antidote potions he had brought along and…

The assassin froze in the process of getting to his feet. There had been a noise behind him. A very soft, slithering noise, almost inaudible, but he was trained to pick up on exactly that sort of thing. And there was a smell too…a sweet and haunting smell. He spun around, to find himself faced with a plant that didn’t seem to belong with the other dangerous exotics at all. An oak? What is an oak doing in here? It certainly looked like an oak tree. A gnarled old oak tree, with just a few branches and spare foliage. But there was something very, very wrong with that picture, and he couldn’t help but feel that there was something he should be picking up on. If only that lovely smell wasn’t so distracting…it was getting heavier and heavier, making it very difficult to think straight. Hold on…there wasn’t an oak in that spot a few moments ago. It must have…moved?