Chicken Stroll
Part Seventeen
“Get away from there, it might peck you! Black roosters...last month it was white owls you were raving about. Do I have to remind you what happened to that?”
“But...”
“You sent it to deliver a letter to your godfather.”
“I...”
“Who is, as it happens, a prisoner in Spellhold! And you're surprised she didn't come back in one piece? This poor creature will probably be dead in a fortnight if you get your hands on it, because you never think!”
“Leave it alone, Perse,” said the redhead. He had joined the other boy in beaming happily at Dekaras, who by now had backed as far away into the cage as he possibly could, and was almost starting to wish that he had been taken to the chopping block instead. “And don't be so loud, you'll scare it! Awww...I think it's cute.” He waggled his eyebrows in what was probably meant to be a soothing manner. “Gootchy, gootchy goo! Here birdie! Here pretty birdie! Pretty birdie want a biscuit?”
I'm a rooster, you demented dimwit. Not a parrot. And absolutely not 'cute'.
The biscuit that the boy was holding out did look pretty tasty though. Certainly a lot better than that grub. Perhaps he could... No! I am not about to eat out of some teenager's hand, like some sad inhabitant of a petting zoo!
“I don't know about 'cute',” the girl said, still with that flinty look in her eyes. “I don't trust it. It looks far too clever.”
“Familiars are supposed to be more clever than regular animals,” the redhaid said, still waving the biscuit before the cage. “And Mistress Emerel said he'd been the familiar of a very clever wizard, so it all makes sense.”
“It could be a trap of some kind! Don't you remember your last famliar? The one that turned out to be an evil transformed wizard? And that was just a rat! Who knows what this one could be? You know that Lord Nevaziah wants Barry dead!”
“Don't say his name!” the redhead squealed, even as his darker friend rolled his eyes. “He's dead, long dead, and he's not coming back, no, no, no.”
“Be serious, Persephone,” said the boy with the glasses. “It's a chicken. A very cool-looking chicken, sure, but still just a chicken. You don't really think they'll use the old 'The bird is really an assassin' trick again, do you?”
At this point, a fourth childish voice cut into the conversation, one that had an almost inbuilt sneer to it. “Well, look at this! The Three Losers, out on a shopping trip! What did you do, sell your mothers to be able to afford a classy bird like that? Those of you that have mothers, I mean.”
Dekaras found himself already disliking this fourth person. Well, he disliked all of the four children gawping at him, but the fourth one reminded him of certain people back at the assassin school- the sons and daughters of rich landowners who thought they deserved to do better than a Rashemite foundling. A few of them had met with unfortunate 'accidents'. Dekaras had learnt to control his temper far better these days. The boy with the glasses hastily stepped in front of the red haired lad.
“At least we don't have to buy people's friendships like you do, Scorpio! Are you going to buy the bird? Then you'll have one living being who'll like you- chickens like worms, after all.”
“That's all you could afford to feed it on, eh?” Scorpio leant down and stared directly into the cage. “I think I might buy this bird- if only to save it from living with you.” Scorpio looked at Dekaras thoughtfully and then poked a finger into the cage. “Come on, squawk, you stupid bird.”
I will not bite him...I will not bite him...
“Leave it alone, it's only a dumb animal!” Persephone pleaded.
Dumb animal, am I?
Scorpio poked the black rooster, which jumped with a hiss. “Come on, make a noise! Go on, I want to hear you crow!” He poked it again.
IwillnotbitehimIwillnotbitehim...
***
Edwin's head pounded and he groaned quietly. Why was he aching so much? Gods, he was thirsty.
“Eddie?”
A hangover? Must be. But he hadn't gone on a drunken debauch in months- not since he had gained his familiar. Hopefully this time he would wake up in his own clothes (or, indeed, any clothes at all) and without having gained some exciting yet embarassing new disease...
“Eddie, wake up ya idiot!”
No, that couldn't be right, could it? He was a chicken...why would a chicken be drunk? What would a chicken get drunk on?
“Eddie!” The voice bellowed in his ear, and something sharp prodded his neck. He opened his eyes and squinted at the rooster.
“Stop pecking me, you moronic half-wit.” He moaned.
The large rooster pushed a saucer of water over to him. “Get some water down ya.” Edwin eyed the water suspiciously. “Why?”
“I thought it'd make you feel better.” Andorel said, blinking in puzzlement.
“What have you added to it?”
“Why would I add anythin' to it?”
“Why wouldn't you add anything to it?” Edwin replied caustically.
“Look,” Andorel said exasperatedly, “It's water. Drink it or bugger off and be bad tempered somewhere else. We've all been drugged, I got kicked into a wall, Nalia is out cold and they've taken Vaddy. My stomach aches like...like...like someone kicked it damn hard and my head hurts, and I can't be bothered to deal with sodding big-headed mages who need a good slappin', ok?”
Edwin felt his feathers slick down all over his body. “They took Teacher Dekaras?”
“Yeah.” Andorel said quietly. “I tried to stop them, but I was too dizzy. He's still alive, mind, just pretty angry right now.”
Edwin felt his throat close up, and didn't even notice the second half of what Andorel had just said. Teacher Dekaras, what are they doing to you?
***
Dekaras, meanwhile, had retreated as far back into the cage as possible, to stay out of reach of Scorpio's attempts to annoy him. Losing his temper with a mere child, even an extremely annoying one, wasn't really something he wanted to do, especially not now. On the rare occasions when he did lose his temper, it had never been a pretty sight, but now, with the Bhaaltaint, it could be fatal. Scorpio wasn't about to take the hint though. The blonde boy simply pushed the sleeves of his green mage robes up past the elbows, and then proceeded to rattle the cage.
“Come on, bird, move!” he demanded. “Lazy thing...if my father were here, he'd soon have it trained like a proper familiar ought to be. A few disciplinary spells ought to do the trick.”
I will not bite him, Dekaras thought, even as he was forced to hastily spread out his wings in order to keep his balance. I will not bite a child, even an obnoxious one. I won't.
“I told you to leave it alone!” the girl, Persepone angrily said. “Look at it, the poor thing's frozen stiff with terror!”
“Er...Perse?” the boy with the glasses said, taking a nervous step back. “I don't think it's really...”
“Actually,” Scorpio went on, “I can probably handle it myself. See how attentive it's being now, hanging onto my every word, observing my every movement? Undoubtedly it has decided I am a worthy master.”
“Oh yeah,” the redhead, Rod, muttered. “It's doing that, all right. Hanging onto your every word. I can tell from the way it's looking at you.”
“Probably it's stunned by the incredible amount of garbage coming out of his mouth,” said Barry. “I know I am.”
“It doesn't take much to stun the tiny mind of you, Rotter,” Scorpio said, a smug little smile on his lips. “Watch and learn how a real wizard claims his familiar.” He swiftly pulled open the small hatch on top of the cage, then reached his arm inside. “Attend me now, bird, for I am Scorpio Badluck, your new master who will command you utterly! Serve me well, and I will treat you well, but be disobedient and you will regret it, like so.” His hand moved swiftly, coming in for a slap. Not swiftly enough though. There was a black blur inside the cage, and then a shrill and penetrating scream, followed by a loud clang as the cage banged shut again. “My hand!” Scorpio yelled. “My hand, my hand, my poor hand! Look at it, it's bleeding! That rooster's a killer, I'm not buying that!”
None of the other children seemed very sympathetic towards his plight. Indeed, they were laughing openly.
“You know,” Persephone said, “I don't think commanding works very well on that bird. And don't be such a ninny, he could easily have gone all the way down to the bone if he'd wanted to.”
Inside the cage, Dekaras carefully bent his head down to preen a wing, feeling reasonably satisfied that if it was his fate to be sold as a familiar, at least it wouldn't be to Scorpio Badluck. And it's not as if I lost control, exactly, he thought, as he inspected the traces of blood stuck under one of his sharp claws. At least I didn't bite him.
***
“Eddie, knock it off!”
“This won't do him any good!”
Edwin ignored the cries of the two chickens and flapped his wings yet again. The fence wasn't that high, surely he could conquer it if he tried...damn the Gods, where was a scroll of levitation when you needed it?
Andorel and Nalia came running around the corner of a coop, Nalia still slightly unsteady on her feet. “Stop it, 'Dwin. Even if you escaped, you don't know where he's gone or how to rescue him when you get there. There's foxes and things out there.”
“I” flutter “Am” thud “Perfectly” flutter “Capable” scrabble “Of looking after myself. Argh!” thud. He landed on the ground again.
“Chickens can't fly, anyway.” Nalia remarked.
“Yes they can!” Andorel objected. “I thought you owned chickens. They just don't get far.”
“I do own chicken farms,” Nalia replied hotly. “But I leave the running of them to the workers. They know about those things.”
“Yeah, I s'pose you do.”
“What do you mean by that?” Nalia asked sharply.
“Nothin'“ Andorel said, grinning. “Eddie, stop it! You'll chip yer beak away.”
Edwin had tried gnawing on the fence, but no, it was hard to do that without teeth. He remembered an old saying: As rare as hen's teeth. He hadn't ever had much to do with chickens, except for eating them, but he remembered an illustrated story Teacher Dekaras had shown him as a child. It was about a group of chickens trying to escape- and how ironic was that?- and when they smiled in the pictures, they all showed rows of gleaming incisors. Strange how the memory threw up these strange little scenes at the most inopportune times. And now, the person who had shown him the book, was...gone. He slumped back from the fence and curled up, eyes closed.
“Bloody hell.” Andorel said in wonder. “You really do care 'bout him, don't ya?”
The fact that Andorel could even seriously think such a thing, much less ask it of him, hurt far worse than any possible intentional insult could have done. True, this was a remarkably stupid half-orc, or to be precise, former half-orc, Edwin thought, but some things should be readily apparent to anybody with brains enough to draw breath. He opened and closed his beak a few times, trying to come up with a witty, cutting reply, one that would aptly demonstrate his utter scorn for anybody feebleminded enough to ask this ridiculous question. But his throat felt burning hot, and filled with a choking lump that wouldn't let the words out. All he could manage was a brief nod.
“Of course he does,” Nalia told Andorel, somewhat curtly. “As I should certainly know.” She gave Edwin an encouraging nip along the neck, pausing to smooth down an errant feather. It felt...pretty good. “And it's not even as if I need the familiar link for it either. I mean, honestly, Andorel, anybody with eyes, a brain, and a tiny bit of sense should be able to tell how much he cares.”
The scruffy green-combed rooster gave a cluck of brief amusement, then shook his head. “Eyes, sure. Brains, sure. Sense...I dunno. Whole diffr'nt story, that. Guess I...kinda picked up on the wrong things. Sorry, Eddie. I still think yer a prat, but at least you can be a loyal prat, once inna while.” He cleared his throat. “Not sure how much it helps right now, but he really does love ya, senseless as that seems. Part of him's always with you, he thinks about you all the time.”
Edwin closed his eyes, his head hanging low towards the ground. Hearing Andorel's words felt good, in a way, but it hurt at the same time. I want him back. I want him back right now, and safe, and in one piece! He could be being tortured right now...or...or worse! Anything could have happened, anything! The wizard's brain promptly went on to provide him with several 'anything' scenarios, most of them so horrible and bloodcurdling, that Dekaras, had he been there, would almost certainly have declared them as unsuitable viewing for anybody with Edwin's morbid imagination. Since he wasn't, however, Edwin could agonize freely, and did so, totally oblivious to what else Andorel was saying.
“...I mean, least he's alive, right? Not harmed either, and I'd know fer sure.” The large rooster gave Edwin an encouraging nudge, to which the wizard remained totally oblivious.
Anything...anything...anything...
“Sure, he's pretty pissed off at the moment, got his tail in a big twist o'er somethin', and I think he just bit somebody...”
Anything...anything...anything...
“Nope...not bit. Clawed. Seems that's important, for some weird reason. Well, ya know how he gets 'bout these things. But really, he's mostly fine, ya know.”
Anything...anyth...
Edwin looked up, his brain finally comprehending what Andorel was saying, insane as it seemed. “No...” he said, very slowly. “I don't know. But you obviously do. How do you know?”
Andorel was suddenly scraping his claws very nervously against the ground, and his comb had flushed a deep brown. “Oh, crap!” he exclaimed. “And I promised him I wouldn't let ya know...now he'll be really mad.”
