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II
The next day I dutifully reported to Jonathan Trent
that I had found hard – albeit ghostly – evidence of the Murloc’s
demise. He nodded curtly, and presented me with eighty silver. He tasked
me with finding out more, if I could: Had anyone seen anything? Who had
gone in and out of the office? Keep my ears open. Had anyone disappeared
at all in the days since the Murloc’s office went dark? I would receive
eighty silver. Not knowing what else to do, I accepted.
That night was my turn to cook for my friends. The
three of us sat around their kitchen table, eating bowls of Westfall
stew. I wasn’t exactly the best of cooks, but it was a simple recipe,
and Rhy and Tidus were loving it.
“What’s the meat?” Rhy said raspily.
“Vulture,” I said. “Fresh. I picked some up at the
grocery store on my way over.” The recipe had also called for some boar
meat, but I was scrimping, and had substituted… vulture.
“You should eat hamburger more,” said Tidus,
grinning.
“You should get more greens in your diet, Orc,” I
shot back.
“You boys,” said Rhy.
“I bet humans are delicious,” Ti and I said in
unison. I was certain that I was joking, but I’d never been quite sure
whether the Orc was or not. He was good-natured, though, and I knew at
least he’d never eat his friends.
A lull in the conversation was followed quickly by
Tidus speaking: “They say the Murloc might have been killed.”
My words caught in my throat for a moment, but I
swallowed and said them anyway. “He was. I went to his office, for the
Scarlets.” And I proceeded to tell them, verbatim, what I’d told
Jonathan. My stomachs had gone knotty.
“Wow,” said Rhy when I was done. Then a pause.
“I’ve never been to his office, what was it like?” How mundane.
“Well, I mean,” I said, relishing the prospect of
being able to say something without lying. “It was pretty bland,
considering that the Murloc works there. Worked.” I felt my nose go
cold. “Just… just, some books and a big painting of him, and his desk.
Lots of papers on it.” I stopped. “And, blood everywhere, like I said.”
Tidus seemed more into that part. “Any sign of a
struggle? Did his ghost tell you anything?”
“Not a thing,” I said. “Just gurgled at me and made
it clear I should be leaving. Ghosts are scary.”
“I know,” said Rhy, and shivered a bit. The way she
said it caught my ear, and I looked at her, trying to plumb her glowing
eyes for deeper meaning, but she had looked down. Snowball, her tiny
white kitten, had hopped up on her lap.
We finished our meals, and put our bowls on the
floor for Snowball to lick. Normally I would stick around for hours,
drinking and gaming and generally being raucous with the pair, but my
heart wasn’t in it tonight.
“I’ve got a hard day ahead of me tomorrow,” I said,
to neither of them in particular. “I think I’m going to go home and get
some sleep.”
“Boo,” said Tidus, the heaviest raucousest drinker
among us. “Do work later.”
I smiled. It was fake. I left.
Rhy caught me on the sidewalk outside the building.
It had started storming out, hard, and my ears were dropping with water.
“I can never read Tauren expressions,” she said, “But I know you, Crazy,
and I can tell when you’re not okay.”
For the first time in my stay in Storm City, since
hearing the tales of the Murloc and his powers over our lives and
deaths, I believed that he could listen. I wanted to pull Rhy into a
dark alley and tell her everything, but I didn’t.
“I might be going away, for a while,” is as close
as I got.
“Resurrection business?” she said.
“Yeah,” I said.
She smiled underneath her hood and shook her head.
“That's not the truth,” she said. “But good luck. Be safe.”
“Thanks.” I smiled, and it was real this time.
“Is this goodbye?” I wasn’t sure. “Tidus is gonna
be pissed that you didn’t say bye to him.”
I nodded, and clapped her on her bony shoulder with
my huge hand. “Thanks for everything,” I said. I shook the rain out of
my eyes and walked home.
* * *
My apartment was under the eaves of an ancient
building in Old Town, above a bar. The rain hammering on the roof
drowned out the noise of the late night crowd, but I still couldn’t
sleep.
I locked my door, and walked down the stairwell to
the bar. It wasn’t too crowded, just a couple of loud dwarves in the
corner and a human mage trying to impress a human lady mage with his
tricks. My favorite nook for thinking was open, but sitting one nook
down was another tauren, the first I’d seen in Storm City in some time.
He was wearing a thick, black hood, with holes for his horn. He looked
to be a bit larger, and a bit stronger, than me. A thick, spiked mace
hung at his side, dangling off the edge of his seat. I forwent my
regular nook and sat at the bar.
Widget, the bartender, popped up behind the bar.
“Hi, Horse!” he said, always energetic. His mop of white hair and
enormous white handlebar moustache made him look ridiculous, as did the
fact that he could barely see over the bar even standing on his stool.
“I bet you’re having the regular, and I bet you’ve got some rent for me
too!” Widget was also my landlord.
I shook my head. “Just some wheat-grass juice
tonight,” I said. I pulled some silvers out of my bag and slid them
across the bar. “Keep the change,” I said. The juice would cost fifty
copper or so.
“No change,” said Widget. “The big bull in the
corner is buying all your drinks tonight.” He jumped a bit and pointed
to the big tauren in the nook across the room. “Means more rent!” The
gnome pulled the coins toward him, and pocked them. “Who’s your friend?”
he asked.
“I’m not sure,” I replied, glancing furtively over
my shoulder at the stranger, who was, to all appearances, ignoring us.
Not a bounty hunter, I hoped. I’d kept my end of the bargain. Still, I
was spooked.
I stood up, grasping my drink in my fist, and
lumbered over to the other tauren’s nook.
“Excuse me,” I said. The bull looked up.
“Can I help you?” he growled, in a deep and
gravelly voice.
“Do I know you?” I said. “I think there may have
been a mistake.”
“No,” he growled, “and no.”
“I see,” I said. “Thanks for the drink.”
“Sure thing.”
I paused. “Do you have a name?”
“None of your business,” growled the tauren. His
cloak and hood, which had appeared black from across the room, looked
more like a dark blue up close. I didn't much like people with that
name. “What’s yours?”
“I’d think you’d know that if you were buying me
drinks,” I said. Spooked had scared the attitude out in me.
“Your name is Horse,” growled the other, “but your
friends call you Crazy.”
I nodded, feeling less surprised, and more awkward
that I was still standing. The nook was barely large enough for one
tauren, much less two.
There was an awkward silence, during which the
other tauren looked down and sipped at his beer.
I gave up. If this big bull wanted me to know what
he was about, he would tell me. “Thanks again for the drink,” I said.
“Get some sleep tonight,” growled the other.
I downed my drink, licked it off my lips, walked
silently back up the stairs to my apartment, and took the stranger’s
advice.
III
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