Four views, and no reviews. I am in trouble. Of course, I only use to get one dependable reviewer, and he hasn't been on site since I came back. Oh well. Anyway, for those who are still reading this, remember to read An Eating Contest before reading this, as it effects the story in this chapter. If you don't want to take the time, there is a summary of the events contained in this chapter, so I suppose you'll do alright either way. Enjoy!
Disclaimer: Again. Of course, you probably know this, but so far no characters that have been mentioned, save for those in the prologue, are of any copyright. But of those in the prologue, and the lands mentioned, and the characters appearing in future, may it be clear that I do not own them. In fact, the only characters I really care about are Thomas and Samuel (for now). Now that that is out of the way, enjoy!
7
"Land, ho!" shouted Faith from the crow's nest.
In the distance could be seen the shores of Southward, a land consisting of trade cities and desert. Strait ahead of the four ships lay the port city of Mechin. Nothing much could be said about it, other than its successfulness at trade, making most of its inhabitants prosperous . . . and pompous. Another result had been its losing many of its poorer residents to the G.B. Among these was Ashleg, the cook.
Prior to arriving in Mechin, he had been a miner at Shent, a farmer at Yeckwore, a hunter at Floret, and a warlord adviser somewhere to the north, though few knew exactly where as he didn't like to talk about it. He had quit or failed at all of these, for various reasons.
When Ashleg came to the port city, he two conditions for anything he took up; it could not have much moving around, and it must not require to much exertion. He had satisfied both of these in cooking. But he did not satisfy the other residents, who disliked his curious hobbies, mainly the multiple fires he started in his home during his electric experiments.
When the G.B. had come into port, looking for supplies, his experiments had caught the interest of Thomas, and the two became good friends. When the time came for the G.B. to cast off again, he joined them as their head cook, and had been with them ever since.
He had made a very useful crew member. It was mainly thanks to him that the adjustments made to the Recreation and Reformer had been made possible. And, as Opt would say, his cooking wasn't too bad, either.
Occasionally he would request a visit to his home, so as he could restock his supplies. This trip was a good example of such an event. After the G.B. had allowed him to get his stuff on board, they would head back out to sea. While waiting for him, they would drop off and pick up passengers, supplies, and a bit of gossip. Of course, the last of these was only applicable to some of the crew.
Faith's shout had instant results. The Runner stopped, and waited for the other ships to catch up. Once the Recreation's bowsprit was hovering over the poop, the other three ships stopped, and Ashelg was helped aboard. Then the Runner continued on toward Mechin, the other ships left to await its return.
Caware the seagull perched on the roof of the Scarred Beer, awaiting the return of her brother. Though the tavern was the last place she wished be at, the roof was nicely shaped, and gave a good view of the harbor. So there she sat.
She fidgeted slightly. "Where is he?" she wondered aloud.
Just then a possum stumbled out of the tavern, looking slightly tipsy. After figuring out he was in the street, he turned to go back into the building, but tripped on his own feet and fell flat on his back. Okay, maybe more than slightly tipsy.
In falling over, he chanced to notice Caware. "What're ya doon up thare?" he asked sluringly.
Sighing in annoyance, she replied, "I am keeping vigil for my brother."
The possum, trying to be helpful, responded, "Ya need some halp? Af yall geve ma a descriptian, I can lat ya knoo eef I'd shee 'im."
Once Caware was able to decipher this, she responded. "Well, he's white, with dark gray wings, large beak, about a sixteen inch wing span . . ."
"All right, sooray I asked." the possum interrupted. "Is not like I can tall oone seagall fum anader. Wha's 'is nam?"
"Crakenough." she replied.
"Ookay, I'll tall ya eef I saw 'im."
And with that he strode back into the tavern, singing a song about a black hungry heir, or something like that. Caware couldn't help wondering how the possum intended to find her brother in there.
Returning her gaze to the harbor, she looked out hopefully for any signs of her long over due family member. But she was disappointed. The only thing new was a carrack, probably there for trading in the market, considering that it was market day today.
A small party of creatures made their way off the dock, heading toward the city. There was Ashleg, whose destination was his workshop. Next to him stood Legrand, the larderhog, and his son, Legrod, who were headed to the tavern to test out the drinks. Accompanying them was Gibeon, silent in speech but talented in the violin. The admiral was also with them, with hopes of hearing something useful during their stay. And of course, Crakenough was saying his farewells to them before heading off to see his sister.
The six skirted the side of the dock, weaving their way through the maze of goods being unloaded from the other ships. Just as they reached the city outskirts, they heard a voice from behind them. Turning, they saw Thomas running toward them.
When he had caught up, he paused to catch his breath. "Sorry." he panted out. "I just got a c . . . uh, I just remembered that I have a meeting with someone in the tavern. Mind if I tag along?"
This was unusual. When Thomas ventured into a town, as a rule he stayed away from the taverns and saloons. But then again, he did do strange things often. So, they allowed him to accompany them.
Reaching the tavern, the six land beasts went inside, while Crakenough took wing to the roof, where he had seen a familiar face. Lighting on the ridgepole, he made his way to the center, then half walked, half slid, down the south side, next to where Caware was sitting.
The gullmaid started, then sighed with relief when she saw who it was. "Crak, don't scare me like that when I'm on the gutter. I could fall." she reprimanded.
"Sorry, Craw." Crakenough apologized. "I forgot. I've had the most amazing morning!"
"I hope," she interjected, "that this story is more interesting than the eel attack you saw four days ago."
"In my own defense, I was rather high up, and could therefore not see things very clearly. And we still don't know whether to trust that fisherbeast. Since when could a mole tell a tangled rope from an eel?"
"Since he was the one who threw it in the water to begin with. So, what did you see this time?"
"Well, I was out for my morning flight, and it was just before dawn, and I saw several ships down below me. But such ships! I have never seen the like before! So, I winged down to the crows nest of the forward ship . . ."
Once inside the tavern, the group split up. Thomas made his way to a corner table, while Legrand took his two companions to the bar. Ashleg headed toward the stairs.
When he reached them, he rang a little bell that hung from the banister, and waited. Presently, a raccoon scurried down and assisted him up.
The second floor of the tavern was Ashleg's workshop. After he left, it was attended to by his assistant, Silas Jacob, the raccoon. Ashleg had met him at the Castle Floret, where he had been a messenger beast. They had become friends during a short siege, during which they had both been able to help each other. When Ashleg moved on, Silas had followed him.
"Good to see you, sir." he was saying as he helped Ashleg to the main room. "It's been at least three seasons, sir. Here, I'll get the door sir."
"Silas, please stop catering me! I'm not as immobile as all tha'!"
The main room was full of odds and ends, many of which were unidentifiable, even to the owners; old inventions, most failures, a few simply useless. Yet every once in a while, Ashleg saw some use in one, and would take it along. As it so happened, he saw the use in one now; an old idea consisting of switching out his wooden log with a fully carved replica of a leg.
"I've been thinken, Silas. Wa' if we was to add hinges ta this? Af we did it righ', with a few ropes attached ta allow manual control, we might 'ave somethin' worth keepen."
"Wouldn't that be more trouble then it's worth, sir?"
"Ya, it migh' be, Silas. But we won't know unless we try. Look, I've been thinken about this for a few months now, and now tha' I've go' an hour for worken with, I've determined tha' I'm gona find out whether or no' it could work. So, if you're game for some old-time worken, then le's ge' busy."
"Very well, sir." Silas answered, trying to hide the excitement in his voice. For despite his no-nonsense exterior, he was a young and adventuress creature at heart.
Legrand chose a seat at the end of the counter, so as only one creature could sit next to him. Of course, Legrod took this spot, and admiral took the seat next to him. Hence Gibeon found himself with the option of removing a drunken otter from the next seat, or sitting quite a ways from his friends. He chose the former, and, thankfully, the otter never noticed.
"Bartender!" Legrand called. "Give me wha'ever you think tis the best you go'. And some cordial for my two friends here."
As the bartender, a heavily scarred squirrel named Richard delivered the requested objects, he leaned in close and asked, "So, who's your squirrel friend?"
"That would be Thomas." Legrand replied. "Why?"
"Well, it's none of my business, of course," Richard replied. "but that hare bloke he's with isn't the most usual of creatures. Not that he isn't liked here, but not many here as he likes. Your squirrel friend is the first beast to have sat down with him for more than three minutes."
The three turned in their chairs to look over where they had seen Thomas go. Sure enough, he was sitting at a small, round table with a stout, black furred hare, whose garb matched that of Thomas perfectly. Situated between them was a large, metal bowl, from which the hare was eating with two long sticks.
"What's so strange about him?" Singer inquired.
The bartender stroked his chin fur. "Well, he comes in here this morning, and the first thing he does is challenge all hares within hearing to a eating contest. Most of said creatures snapped up at the suggestion, but I wasn't so sure they knew what they was getting into. I mean, when's the last time you saw a stout hare.
"So they all start, and I make more money in an hour than I usually do in a week giving them vitals. Well, it eventually came down to just him and two others. And when one of the two fell over and quit, the other, he surrender. So him, he says how he was glad of that, since he didn't recon he could eat much more anyway. Except he follows that statement by finishing the food of the last contender. Then he takes his bowl and begins tapping it with his two eating sticks, and what do you know, it makes music! And then he begins singing a song about the places he's been to, and soon he has the whole tavern singing it.
"So when he's done, he sits down over there and asks for more food! And there he's been sitting ever since. A lot of beasts tried to sit and talk to him, but not many have been able to stay there. So, you ever seen him before?"
"Nope, never." answered Legrand. "Thomas does have quite a few unusual friends, though. So I'd suppose this is just one of them."
And there you have it. Please review, so that I can become better at this. Also, I'm a bit stuck on chapter ten, so after I post up chapter nine, there may be a bit of a wait afterward. Sorry about that. God bless, shalom, and good morning! 9/7/2014 TTT