Page 11

S he was feeling out of sorts as she left her room the next day. Her stomach was fine, but her complexion was rather gray. That was some strong brandy.

“Good morning! I was wondering if you'd make it to breakfast,” Artur called as he jogged up the stairs. He had the look of a man who'd been up for a while.

She glanced left. The door to his room was open, as usual. She could see his neatly made bed. She'd only seen it closed at night.

“What?”

“You leave the door open.”

“It bothers you?”

“It seems like a security issue. I know it's your house, but I didn't grow up with servants. Makes me uncomfortable when someone goes into my room. I suppose you're used to it.”

“Ah. I don't leave valuables in the room. There's no need for concern.”

She relaxed. The idea of someone stealing from him bothered her. There was a lock on her wardrobe, and she kept her personal things in there. No doubt he had a secure storage of his own.

“How are you feeling today? You look a bit pale,” he commented as they headed for the stairs.

“I'm fine, thank you. I'll be more careful of your aunt's homebrew though. It packs a punch.” She said hesitantly, “It was kind of you to help me inside. I must have been heavy.” She had a vague memory of him carrying her up the stairs and turning her over to her maid.

“Not at all. I'm sure it was much harder for you to carry me. I distinctly recall you cursing together with the stable boy as you dragged me inside.”

She paused. “You remember that?”

“You dropped me once and hit my head on the door post. The dead would have noticed,” he said dryly.

“Then you remember...” she trailed off, embarrassed.

“You muttering while you wiped off the blood and mud? I appreciate that by the way. I know it was disgusting.”

His words brought back the horrid memories. Embarrassment, yes, but the memory of cold, clammy skin, blood and bruises...caring for someone who was so grievously hurt left a mark on the caretaker, too.

They had paused on the landing. He took her hand from where it was unconsciously rubbing her sleeve. He waited until she met his gaze and then kissed it. “I'll try not to grieve you again.” He placed it on his arm and they walked on.

She wanted to protest that she wasn't grieved, but that would be a lie. She wanted to say that it had been nothing, but that would also be a lie. Instead she said nothing. Sometimes it was best to drop the matter.

She was jolted out of her agitation by the surprise in the foyer.

A fountain of brown balsamic rock sat in the middle of the floor. The pillars were naturally dished on top where the water pooled and trickled down into a shallow basin. There were little trees and moss, a miniature mountain scene. It was charming, but she had no memory of it.

Was that there yesterday? Had it been installed while they were out and she simply hadn't noticed it when they came home? She barely remembered being carried inside and tucked into bed.

Artur smiled at her surprise. “The mountain installed a fountain yesterday.”

“The mountain,” she asked incredulously. It was hard to see what mountains had to do with redecoration. Was it the name of a company?

“Of course. I'm sure you heard it moves. Sometimes it rearranges housing, too. Last year it moved a bridge. It was inconvenient for a while but it eventually improved traffic flow.”

“But it puts fountains in your homes?” she asked, dumbfounded.

“Occasionally. We believe it sees us as pets.”

“So it's alive?” she asked hesitantly. “Do you...worship it or anything?” She had never heard of goblins doing that, but what did she know? The idea made her profoundly uncomfortable.

He snorted. “Worship a mountain! Who would be that stupid? It's a big pile of rocks.”

He repeated it under his breath, chuckling, as he led her to the breakfast table.

It hadn't been that funny. There were people in her hometown who carved firewood into idols and prayed to it twice a day. She thought it was a foolish practice, but it was a legitimate question.

She figured if it got cold, they could always toss the fancy log on the fire; at least then it would have a practical use.

Breakfast was sausage, eggs and biscuits with mushroom gravy. Spicy goblin mustard accompanied almost every meal, and there were always pickles. Today's pickle was quail eggs, and she loaded up on the squeaky little eggs.

Mmm, quail.

Gal smiled widely as she and Zac sat at the table. “Greetings, Aunt! The dressmaker is coming over today to ask you some questions. You know, what colors do you like, that sort of thing. We decided it would be more convenient for you, since you still seem a bit tired.”

“I see. Thank you.” The idea of going to a dressmaker seemed tedious. If clothes had to be chosen, it was nice that it could be done here. Saved time, too.

Gal's grin was toothy, as if she were deeply enjoying herself. Perhaps even plotting.

Well, she was a teenager. They were a lot like cats; unfathomable and prone to mischief. Julep applied herself to eating and didn't worry about it.

She didn't enjoy cooking, but she was competent. Chef Gog’s biscuits were rich, but light and flaky. The man knew his way around a mixing bowl. She wondered if he ever made crepes. She was especially fond of the berry kind...

When Julep was finished and enjoying her tea, Artur said, “We should talk about security.”

Pulled from her daydreams, Julep blinked and gave him her full attention. This sounded serious.

“We're in a turf war with Zul Kan. The greedy worm wants to control all pharmaceutical sales in the city. It gets bloody from time to time, so you'll need an escort when you go into the city.”

Julep was confused. “Why? You sell yours, he sells his...isn't there enough for everybody?”

Artur smirked. “That's not how it works. He wants it all.”

“Is he poor?” She asked, struggling to understand this weird concept.

Artur laughed. “He's a rich man. Maybe richer than me.”

Stranger and stranger. She considered the matter, but still had no clue. “I don't get it,” she persisted, because it didn't make sense. “Why does he have to have it all?”

“Because he's a f...fur faced maggot,” Gal corrected herself after a stern look from her uncle.

“He wants it all,” Artur said gently. “It's not enough for him to dominate the market, he wants to control the whole city. It's greed.”

“I think I understand,” Julep said slowly. “But it's bizarre.”

His face softened. The kids exchanged significant glances. Uncle was a goner.

He noticed. Artur straightened and said briskly, “Just follow the safety protocols and it will be fine.”

“Very well,” she said agreeably.

??

He took her to the pharmacy that afternoon. The shops in that area were profitable and sported carved door posts and frames. Just one street over, the shops had only been able to afford paintings and plaster reliefs, and she'd been shocked by some of the services offered.

The mercenary guild wasn't too surprising, considering this was a goblin town. The bone setter and doctor next door made sense; no doubt the mercenaries gave them lots of business.

She wasn't sure what the chemist sold, but the poisoner made her stare.

“They sell poison out in the open?” she asked, astonished. “What if someone buys it and kills someone?”

He raised a brow. “What if someone has a giant monster down in the mines they need to kill? Poison is a lot safer.”

She didn't look convinced, so he added, “There are many ways to kill someone. If someone commits murder, they're punished. It's not difficult.”

She squirmed uncomfortably. Where she was from, everything was heavily regulated and taxed. This freedom felt weird.

“Come now, you think everyone would be safer if poison were locked away?” He chided. “Next you'll tell me you want to take knives away in case someone decides to go on a stabbing spree. Should we hide all the clubs and rocks, too?”

She looked away sheepishly. Goblin logic was hard to counter.

He gently tapped her under the chin. “Goblins would take your weapons away, and then kill everyone. We aren't good. No one really is.”

“You need weapons to defend yourself. Waiting for someone to save you is asking to die.”

She scowled. “What about me? I'm not a good fighter.” Like everybody else, she carried a small pocket knife. It was handy for cutting string and things, but she didn't intend to stab anyone with it.

“True. You should make friends with a goblin.” He winked.

She made a face at him.

Artur's pharmacy had a long counter stacked with bottles of tinctures and small shelves of pills, pots of ointment and medicinal tea.

Floor to ceiling shelves behind the counter held labeled canisters and boxes.

As they watched, the pharmacist used a brass scale to weigh herbs.

He smiled and chatted with the customer as he slid the herbs into a brown paper envelope.

Artur introduced her to the shopkeeper, and Julep spent some time looking over the inventory. She sniffed balms to identify the ingredients and studied the consistency of salves, holding them up to the light.

A red fly ointment caught her eye. “Excuse me, she asked the pharmacist. I know someone who reacts badly to the standard red fly ointment. Is there anything less irritating, but still effective?”

The pharmacist frowned. “There's only the standard recipe that I'm aware of. Perhaps our chief pharmacist will know more?”

“Good idea. Let's ask him.” Artur said, brightening. He escorted her to the workshop in back, a spacious, well lit space stocked with every herb imaginable.

A goblin looked up from a workbench where he was pounding a bowl of herbs. He wore glasses and had bristly hair tamed with hair wax.

He was medium sized and middle aged, and seemed irritated by the interruption.

Artur smiled, unfazed. “This is my chief pharmacist, Ignis. Ignis, this is my wife, Julep. She wants to know if there is any red fly ointment that doesn't make sensitive eyes swell.”

Ignis blinked. “There's only the standard recipe. It works for most people, so there didn't seem to be a point in changing it.”

“Little profit either, I imagine,” Julep said. “After all, saltwater works nearly as well. Unfortunately, it's not guaranteed effective.”

Ignis made a non-committal grunt.

“Of the five standard ingredients, which one would you say could be replaced?

Or left out, and still achieve effectiveness?

I was thinking that toadfart silk was probably the most irritating ingredient.

'' The down of the toadfart pod (the pod looked like a toad with fluffy down coming out of its rear as it opened) was collected as it flowered and used in all kinds of medicines.

It was very effective, but some people found it irritating.

Ignis frowned. “You would have to find a sensitive individual and test each ingredient on them. Sometimes we put out a notice that we are testing products and offer to pay subjects. It can get expensive, but you can't expect people to volunteer.”

She brightened. “Excellent idea!”

“As for a substitute for toadfart...” He considered the massive bookshelf.

“You would have to research herbs with similar properties. Off the top of my head, I would lean towards bog mallow or rock slime.” He selected two books and handed them to her.

“Just return them when you finish, please. Or...perhaps your husband could purchase copies for you? If you like them, of course.”

“Excellent idea! I've been meaning to expand my library. Have someone make a list of all the books here. Let me know if there's any you want for the shop. We’ll include it in the purchase.”

Ignis looked pleased.

“Oh, you don't have to...” Julep protested.

Artur derailed her by taking her hand. He smiled. “But I insist. I would be very grateful if you can find a red fly ointment that doesn't blind me.”

Ignis looked alarmed. “But sir, you should have mentioned the matter! I would have looked into it.” It was difficult to tell whether he was concerned about someone stealing his thunder, or currying more favor with his boss.

Artur waved a hand. “No need, she's got it.”

“I'll let you know if either of those herbs make the difference. After all, they were your idea,”Julep said diplomatically.

She would like to be able to pick his brain again, something that would be difficult to do if he resented her.

“It might not be a big seller, but it could be something else to offer in the shop.”

Reminded that it wasn't a flashy sales item, Ignis relaxed. He nodded.

Julep put the herbs and a few other things on Artur's account.

She spent the trip home thinking about her new formula.

She couldn't wait to get started. The first thing she would do would be to test the individual herbs on Artur's skin, although she wouldn't put them directly in his eyes. Not until she was confident.

She would also need some red fly larvae to experiment on. Ugh! She wasn't looking forward to that.

Artur didn't disturb her with idle chit chat, which she deeply appreciated. Few people could handle silence.

The thought made her look up...and that's when she saw him . The goblin who had hunted her, trying to steal her formula, was standing outside in the street, looking at her.

They locked eyes. The big brute looked grim. Oh, boy...