Born a Monster

Chapter 49

Blues

“Utterly unacceptable!” screamed the client.

Reynald waved a hand. “You have six valets, all clad in dark blue.”

“Different dark blues. Only these two have matching colors, and they don’t – match.”

“If you wanted three sets of matching valets, you should have specified that, Lord Fairfield. These six meet your specifications.”

.....

“What? Everyone knows that valets should be interchangeable, to look almost exactly like each other.”

“Everyone does NOT know that, sir. If you wanted a family of six trained brothers and sisters, then we needed to know this two months ago.”

“Two months? Unacceptable. I need them tonight. Need them.”

“And here they are, per what you requested yesterday. If they are truly unacceptable, perhaps you should borrow matched sets from your fellow aristocrats?”

The fat man’s face paled. “What level of discount can you give me for my inconvenience?”

Reynald’s lips thinned. “Let me make this clear. Gentlemen, Ladies, Lizard, go wait in the red room, if you please.”

The shouting phase of the negotiations began in earnest.

“Well,” Lorraine said, “we’d best change out of these so that they’re fresh tonight.”

“Yup.” Kismet agreed.

“I’m sorry, but how do you know we have the job?” asked Rister.

Kismet broke out in a smile that showed many of her sharp teeth. “Did you see how he looked at Lorraine’s cleavage? We’re working tonight.”

“Race you to hangar the uniforms.” I said. “First to the other’s room with an unwrinkled uniform on a hangar gets breakfast paid by the other.”

“I want in on that action.” Said Lorraine.

“It is beneath my dignity to make children cry.” Rister said.

“He gets paid in silver for his military duties.”

“Oh, well never let it be said I declined charity.”

Turns out that every Manservant and Maidservant has Efficient Cleaner, and some of those cheats had other abilities to stack on top of that.

Counting the drinks the adults had, I ended up paying two copper and only getting eight tin back.

“Ah, now that hits the spot!” Rister said. “Ale is always better when it’s free.”

“Hear, hear.” Gelyon toasted. “So, new valets, what questions do you have?”

“How do we get TIPS?” Kismet asked.

“Well,” Lorraine said, leaning over the table. “There’s a whole sign language involved in that. For example-”

There were ways, with hand signals, or posture, or a subtle wave of the jaw, to communicate messages.

As the ale flowed freely (which caused me to just drop a silver on the tab and tell them we’d be there until after lunch), more and more signs were added.

“It’s a whole new LANGUAGE.” Kismet said, her tail whisking back and forth.

After lunch, which was a sandwich of bacon and sliced tomatoes and cucumbers, with a side of fried potato wedges, the quizzing began.

The veterans even took turns impersonating their worst treatments, so that we could inure ourselves to what to expect.

And then were stories, and then it was late enough that we just ordered a whole chicken to divide among us for an early dinner.

And then, Lorraine picked up our change, and we hurried back to the Guild to change into our blue uniforms.

#

The Fairfield orchards were just outside the eastern gate. They were growers of pears and various nuts, and even had an apple cider works, though that was in the town proper.

Our job was simple. Two people would be at the door to greet and announce guests, two adults would circulate with beverages, and Kismet and I would carry the food trays. All of us were to remove any manner of trash that we saw, and were to regard any drinks spilled on anyone as an emergency.

The guests, various notables about town, were ostensibly coming to the presentation of some wealthy landlord’s daughter. In a secret so badly kept that I already knew about it, the Fairfields desired to extend the city wall just a bit eastward to enclose their holdings.

Kismet was enjoyed, cherished, even. She was a NOVELTY, and people stoked her fur and asked her questions, and doted on her.

I was a reptilian monster, and I learned quickly only to address those looking around. I quickly learned the location of the restrooms, and what room had been set aside for smoking, and, when asked, even fetched drinks.

And this is the difference between efficient and popular – she got tips.

She distracted the guests, while I read and delivered hand signals, bussed tables, and otherwise made myself useful.

In spite of our warnings, nobody got splashed with drinks, at least where we could see.

Although there was plenty of alcohol, only one almost-fight needed to be broken up. This was between two females in similar dresses, who were both convinced that they looked better, and that this style of dress was most certainly THEIRS for all future social occasions.

The duck’s neck is a particularly simple hold. One just moves the hand palmward along the wrist, and then applies moderate pressure to the back of the hand. I didn’t yet trust my System to get it right, and if too much pressure were applied, one could break a wrist.

My aggressor came to a position of rapt attention when I applied the hold.

“Madame, perhaps you would care to discuss the matter privately in the reading room?”

Her opponent looked smug until Rister grabbed her elbow from behind, and made a similar request.

“You beasts!”

“You little monster, do you KNOW who I AM?”

“I know you are nobody with the right to make such a scene, and disturb the other guests.” I said.

“How DARE YOU. There will be sudden and violent repercussions for this!”

I expected her to turn her head and spit, but apparently cultured ladies don’t do that indoors.

We left them in the reading room to discuss their differences.

“Beg pardon.” An elderly lady asked. “Can you show me the hold you just applied to my niece?”

I did so, and with a vicious grin, she moved my hand until the wrist popped.

“Oh dear,” she said, “I do seem to have applied too much pressure.”

With a pained hiss, I pulled the hand into the proper position, and let it reset itself in the wrist socket.

[Repair of this injury will require twelve dairy and nine protein resources.]

I confirmed that my System should spend those, and received an eight-hour timer. Apparently, I would be working the rest of the night with a damaged wrist.

#

The cook hadn’t slowed down yet, so I switched to my other hand for carrying the tray. As I said, there were no major incidents that night.

Without a duel or similar, people had a pleasant if forgettable night. As we had been spot cleaning most of the night, the end of night cleaning actually went quickly. Burlap bags filled with slops were left by the side door for the morning, napkins and coasters into separate baskets for cleaning, and various left-behind items were stored for when their owners could come for them.

“You. Lizard-thing. At some point tonight, you applied a painful hold to one of my guests?”

“Only in order to break up a fight, Lord Fairfields.”

“That was poorly chosen, sirrah. Poorly chosen. Nothing to be done for it now.”

“The rest of you, well done, and safe journey on your way home.”

We were hardly outside when Black Snake left the interior of my sleeve to explore the night, though she returned there when we passed through the town gate.

I wondered who was replacing the torches tonight.

The moon was already low in the sky, and was kissing the horizon when we got back to the hall.

“Rhishi, do you have a brush to clean the uniforms with?”

“I can buy one tomorrow.” I said.

“You can borrow mine.” Lorraine said.

I carried Black Snake (inside the shell) across the guildhall’s magical barrier.

“I guess I’ll see everyone tomorrow.” I said.

We made our reports to Cosimo, and headed back to our beds. I could have stayed up for breakfast, but that thought curdled my stomach. No, better to sleep and just get two dinners.

Cosimo woke me.

.....

“Guildmaster Reynald wishes to see you.”

I clenched my teeth to prevent myself from saying something about that. “Shall I meet him in the front rooms, or in his office?”

“His office.” Cosimo said. “And turn that uniform in to Tangars.”

“When Tangars agrees to pay for it.” I said.

But I got into my unemployed linens to report to Reynald.

“Ah, Rhishisikk. I am led to believe you applied some manner of painful grip on a female guest last night?”

“She and another were disrupting things. Rister can verify.”

“Well, Kismet is getting an offer for a two year contract with the Fairfields, and they are recommending you for a whipping.”

“Is now a good time for Kismet to be beyond the wall without a guardsman, sir?”

“I will keep my own advice on that. Do you object?”

“No, guildmaster.”

“Good. Dismissed. And turn that uniform in to Tangars.”

“When he agrees to pay for it, guildmaster.”

“Yes... I understand you paid three silvers for it?”

“I did, sir.”

“The guild will pay you two.”

I shrugged. “I should keep it rather than lose that kind of coinage.”

“Your choice, but you are no longer on the rosters to be hired as a valet.”

I turned in the uniform.

#

Well, to say I went back to bed angry is an understatement.

Oh, I’ll admit that what I had done was improper in high society. And my twin punishments, the wrist and removal from the valet roster, were very light.

But – I didn’t feel I’d done anything WRONG. Who was that pampered pansy, that she got to pretend life was without pain? And who was that old lady who had broken my wrist?

I almost called upon the scorpion who had offered to become my spirit guide. And then, I realized it didn’t matter. Both of them were probably going to die when Rakkal came for Narrow Valley.

So all I really needed to worry about was...

...

Zzz.

[Lucid Dreaming successfully invoked.]

Well, a first for everything, I suppose. I was in a warm place by a beach, nestled in the overhang of a cliff.

The warmth came from a nearby forge, where a twisted blacksmith worked on what looked like a huge pair of pliers, with the assistance of two one-eyed giants.

I observed the brightly colored birds flitting about, as well as my first view of palm trees.

Eventually, the craftsman joined me where the cliff began breaking apart into light grey rocks. “I like this view.” He said. “I’d like to discus your plans to protect the woman and her children.”

[You have accepted a quest to save the life of a woman marked with the sigil of a black bird bearing crossed spears on a red background and her family. You have not discovered this woman. Quest on hold.]

I sent him the image of that message.

“What? No, you must have met her.”

“And yet, I have not. If you could just tell me who this woman is...”

“I cannot, for reasons I do not care to explain.”

“Well, can you tell me where to find her?”

“Nor that, nor numbers of her children, nor the work her husband does. How irritating. Okay, go about your mortal life, I have some omen-makers to berate.”

And then – well, I don’t remember my normal dreams after that.

But I had enough information now. The godhead behind this quest was called Hephaestos, or Hephestus, or Vulcan. He was the parthenogenic child of Hera, among other distinguishing features. As a god of blacksmithing, I guess it made sense that he knew of the Blue Flame of Kuma.

I wasn’t sure I understood all this nonsense about omen-makers, but apparently they were responsible for placing the woman where I could find and identify her.

Just one more annoying detail to work into my survival plans.

#