Chicken Stroll
Part Eight
“That will do, Edwin,” Dekaras sharply said, at the same time that Nalia chimed in with “Edwin, you're not being fair!”
Edwin was too far gone to even hear either of them though. His comb was standing straight up, and he had raised his wings and spread them a little, as if he intended to fly directly into Andorel's face. “And I still want an extensive explanation for this 'Vaddy' thing,” he said with a sound of a whistling kettle. His eyes caught the setting sun in a way that made them seem to be on fire.
“Huh,” Andorel said, shaking his head. “My fault? Seems to me the only reason he was even comin' here in the first place was 'cus of you. Figures you'd never e'en think o' that. Maybe bein' a chicken has got to ya a bit.” He made an amused, chirping sound. “So...how d'you like it so far, Eddie? Better than bein' a girl?”
By now, Edwin was making incoherent, whistling sounds from the depths of his throat, so Andorel went on uninterrupted. “Oh, an' I call him Vaddy cos that's his name. 'Course, you never bothered finding that out, I bet.”
Edwin reeled back as if he had recieved a fist between his eyes, hurt confusion in his eyes. He opened his beak as if to say something, but never got that far.
“That is enough,” Dekaras said, stepping directly between Edwin and Andorel. He didn't raise his voice, but he could feel his feathers rising all along his back. “Andorel, that was totally uncalled for, not to mention deliberately hurtful, and you know it was. And Edwin, you were being extremely rude to somebody who is a good friend of mine, whether you approve or not. I'm not happy at all with either one of you, and I don't want to see this episode repeated or I will become downright angry. Is that clear?” When he was satisfied that no immediate protests seemed to be forthcoming, he nodded. “Good. Now Edwin, if that is settled, perhaps you could introduce me to your friend here?”
“What friend?” Edwin said distractedly, still shooting poisonous looks at Andorel, who simply looked amused by the whole situation.
“Nalia de'Arnise,” Nalia said, ignoring Edwin.
“Pleased to meet you, I've...learnt lots about you.”
“Really?” Dekaras replied politely. “Unfortunately, I have had little chance to communicate with Edwin, so I'm afraid I know little about you. For some reason, he seemed to think it necessary to convince us that he was dead. Now I can understand the need for the magocracy of Thay to be convinced of his passing, but why he didn't see fit to inform his family of his little game is harder to understand.”
“I did explain in the letter I wrote...” Edwin broke in, but was interrupted.
“It was my idea, actually,” Nalia said, with an edge of nervous defiance. “It seemed the only safe way. We couldn't be sure any messages we sent wouldn't be intercepted. And..” Here Nalia swallowed and looked slightly embarassed, bobbing her head downwards. “It was a plan we thought up while half-dead from a curse.”
“'We?'“ Dekaras repeated.
“I meant 'I'.” Nalia replied quickly. Her head whipped round and looked at Edwin for a second. “Yes. Me.” She said, as if talking to herself. “Yes it was, it was my idea!”
“It couldn't have been Eddie's idea,” Andorel snorted, “'Cos it worked.”
Edwin hissed threateningly. “One more remark from you, and...”
Dekaras cleared his throat meaningly- or at least, tried to, but his bird throat produced a hissing noise. It worked, however, and Edwin and Andorel subsided. “I believe you and Edwin are each other's...familiars?”
“Yes,” Nalia said, bobbing her head, “We cast the spell at the same time, and well, it just happened.”
“Very unusual,” Dekaras mused, “But certainly theoretically possible, as you have demonstrated. I've not heard any previous cases of it happening.”
“Hey look!” Andorel interrupted enthusiastically. He pulled a fat white grub out of the dirt with his beak. “A great BIG one. Hey, this is great- when you're chicken sized, a single grub is a big meal! Anybody want some? I can bite it into bits if ya like.”
Dekaras found himself looking at the wiggling grub hungrily, and then shook himself. No. He told himself sternly. I am not going to start enjoying eating insects again. “Kind of you to offer,” he said, trying to avoid looking at the grub, “but I will pass for now.”
“Oh. Yeah. Your hangover, right?” Andorel looked questioningly at Edwin and Nalia, then greedily gobbled the wriggling thing up. He made a raspy sound in his throat. “You guys should have been there...it was real fun...better than...”
“I really do not think they need to know the sordid details,” Dekaras hastily interjected. “None of them.” He focused on the grubby-looking chicken before him, his...aquired brother, and he reached across the soul bond, willing Andorel to understand what he was requesting, sending along a wordless plea. For the gods' sake, don't tell them about the whole Bhaalspawn incident. Edwin will only fret unnecessarily. He didn't think Andorel would let slip about the Philianectar debacle...the half-orc was as mortified about that as he was...but one casual comment about Bhaal and Edwin would start asking all sorts of questions Dekaras really didn't want to answer right now. Or ever. Andorel's beak opened a little, and he looked uncomfortable.
“Yeah...uh...right. So, how 'bout if you guys show us 'round the place? I mean, sure we're gonna break out an' all that, but that could take a day or two, right?”
“Of course!” Nalia said, her wings flapping eagerly. “Please, come with us, both of you! Really, I don't know where my manners have gone...”
There was one of those brief pauses again, and then she glared at Edwin. “At least some of us have manners in the first place!” Another pause. “Oh, really?” She nodded briefly in Dekaras' direction, then returned her flinty gaze to Edwin. “I get it. You don't want him to hear you being rude and bratty to me, so you're being underhanded about it. Typical.” She raised her beak over her own leg, sounding triumphant. “Behave, or this leg gets it!”
Edwin's eyes were almost bulging from their sockets now, and he was making incoherent throat noises. Dekaras watched this with great interest, making no comment, curious about what would happen next. Eventually, Edwin lowered his head, his tail feathers drooping in an extremely sulky manner that reminded Dekaras about the boy's teenage years.
“Yes, yes, you infernal busybody! I will.” Brief silence. “WHAT?” An embarrassed look in Dekaras' direction, that the assassin pretended not to notice. “Out loud...but...” Nalia lowered her beak a little over her leg. “Oh, all right,” Edwin hissed. “I... apologize for the word I used.” Oh yes, Dekaras thought, as Nalia strutted smugly away across the yard. I am really going to like this girl.
***
Emeral Fress played idly with the polished wooden egg she kept on her desk, flicking it from finger to finger. It was beech burr wood, full of knots and grain that caught the light and glittered slightly. A beautiful object, to be sure, but not as valuable as the real thing. It had been a present from her brother. She closed her eyes in sadness. Her poor brother! His apprentice, a lad of little brains but great gullibility- had told her about how he'd been brutally murdered by the assassin and his half-orc companion. A great anger had grown in her breast as he told her, and she vowed she would get revenge on the two of them. They had not just killed her only living relative, they had also, more seriously, mucked up her business. Profits would probably be down for the next few months. At least egg production was up, and the market for eggs laid by humans grew daily. Some mages wanted them for experiments into unusual reagents, while others simply ate them- when it came to unusual food, there was no limit to the human appetite. And, of course, there were so many other by-products: feather pillows, mattresses, meat (saved for the really discerning customer), and fertiliser. There were occasional special orders, too: such as the recent order for a few pints of fresh human blood. Emeral found it best not to ask, and that suited her well, since she didn't really care what people did with her products once they were out of her hands.
There was a quiet knock on the door. “Come!”
Thom tiptoed into the room. “Mistress,”
He said, “The two murderers have been caught and treated successfully. We put them into the large enclosure, but there is a problem.
“Really?” Emeral rarely used many words. She found a mere handful was nearly always sufficient.
“Yes...there are too many males in there now. It's bound to lead to fights. It's best to have 15 hens to every cockerel, you see. What should we do?”
“Leave it for now.” Emeral replied, staring at her nails. “An idea will come to me.”
Thom carefully backed away and closed the door as quietly as he could. Emeral, meantime, waited for the ideas to come.
***
Being a chicken was actually sorta fun, Andorel decided. Sure, he'd want to get back to normal eventually, but in the meantime he'd might as well enjoy the perks of it. Such as the yummy food, for one thing. The large and oddly rumpled chicken made a happy little chirping sound in his throat as he thought about the food. There'd been a worm as large as his own throat for Tyr's sake! And he'd had it all too himself too, none of the others had wanted a piece. I'll have to talk Vaddy into tryin' some later. Just know he could learn to 'preciate classy food if I pester him some.
There was a brief but sharp spike of darkness across the soul bond, and Andorel turned his head towards his friend. Since it was getting on towards night, Nalia and Edwin had given them a brief tour of the enclosure, and then suggested them going to bed. Well, going to perch, really. The chicken coop was pretty nice, Andorel thought. Dry and warm, with plenty of perches, and nesting areas for the hens. Lots of fresh water around. Even old Winthrop of Candlekeep, who'd been very picky about how his chickens were housed, would have approved. Given the number of chickens ambling about the enclosure, Andorel had worried that they wouldn't be able to find a good spot, and sure it was pretty crowded, but Vaddy had simply stalked into the place, stood in one place and looked at the chickens until, magically, there was a convenient empty area available, and on the top perch too. Edwin and Nalia apparently already had their own favourite spot - Nalia had proudly explained how they'd fought claw and beak for a really prime one that nobody else would dare touch by now.
“What's up, Vaddy?” he asked, edging a little closer.
“You were feelin' a bit upset...everything OK?”
“Apart from the insignificant little detail of being a rooster, you mean?” Dekaras said. “I can't imagine why that would cause me any concern, can you?”
Andorel clucked and shifted about on his perch. He wondered if sleeping in a sitting position was hard...well, he'd find out the hard way if it was. “You're broodin' again,” he declared. “It really does ya no good, you know. Go on, try to relax a bit.” He flapped his wings. “Wasn't it fun flying up here, for one thing? I gotta try outside tomorrow, see how high I can go. Prob'ly not high enough to cross the fence, but still it'll be fun.”
“I admit that flying, low altitude as it was, has been the one highlight of this whole miserable experience. However, let's not lose sight of exactly how much trouble we're in, shall we? We need to be extremely cautious, and work fast. I doubt that our captors have anything pleasant in store for us. Especially not us non-egg-producers, remember?” The assassin spread his wings, black feathers absorbing the faint moonlight trickling in through the door.
“Yeah, sure. Still, there are some perks, right?” Andorel chortled quietly, nudging his friend in the side. “I o'erheard one o' the hens on the perch down below admiring somebody's 'beautiful black wings'.”
“You have to be joking.”
“No, Tyr's own honest truth! Couldn't see her though, no idea who it was.”
“Somebody driven mad by her woeful captivity, no doubt. At any rate, I'd like nothing better than to be rid of these 'beautiful black wings' and the sooner the better.”
“Well, I guess they could be chopped off or sumthin'...”
“Andorel, that is not what I meant.”
“Mind you, that'd leave some really ugly, mutilatin' scars.”
“Andorel...”
“Really, really horrible, ugly, disfigurin' lumps o' scar, enough to make all the chicks scream and run, shoutin' 'Dear Gods, what is that THING!'“
There were a few seconds silence. Then Dekaras shook his head and folded his wings up neatly. “Goodnight, Andorel.”
“Good night, Vaddy.”
There was some more silence. Slowly, peace settled in the chicken coop. Then, a voice in the darkness. “Vaddy? Think there are any foxes 'round here?”
“Good night, Andorel.”
