Threadbare - Complete Trilogy, page 96
“Madeline does have that merchant’s pack,” Threadbare pointed out.
“Ooooh, there’s a thought. I’ll talk to her and Graves later, see if we can rig something up…” She put him down, and picked up a wrench. “Don’t worry about me,” she smiled over her shoulder as she turned back to the armor. “But you might check on the others, if you’re looking for something to do. I’ve been at low sanity many times, and company always helped me get through that. I think it could do you some good as well.”
“That’s not a bad idea,” Threadbare said, readjusting his laurels. His ears really weren’t set up to hold them too well.
So the little bear went and found the corner where Kayin was sweeping, handling the bulky broom that was five times her size with easy dexterity and strength. “Hello. Are you all right?”
“Yeah. Why wouldn’t I be?”
“Well, we’ve got that war coming up.”
She snorted. “I’ve been training for years to fight that war. On the other side, mind you. Don’t worry about me, I don’t let things like that worry me. Do the job, get paid, move on.”
“Oh. Should I pay you?”
“You already have!” She indicated her body with her furry hands. “This gets you my help until the Kingdom’s saved. Afterwards… I don’t know.” She shrugged. “I like you guys, but we’re all going to have to decide on our own individual afterwards. I don’t have any family to go back to, my old killers’ guild is dead and gone, and I don’t have many friends outside of work.”
“I thought we were your friends.”
“Oh. Uh… well, you are. I didn’t mean anything bad by it.” She wrapped her arms around the broom and leaned against it. “You’re cool enough. Some of the others aren’t the friends I would have chosen, but I guess it’s fair to say mostly we’re friends. But I don’t know if I want to spend the rest of my life with you all. You know?”
“It is a pretty big decision,” Threadbare agreed.
“Bottom line, don’t worry about me. I look after myself, and I’ll look after you and the rest.” She shrugged. “Might want to check in with Graves, though. He’s a little more invested in… well, everything.”
“I can do that.”
Threadbare found his way outside, and went back to the temple of Yorgum. Back around to the side-entrance into the storeroom, where rows and rows of plush toys had been laid out with glistening black soulstones resting in bundles of cloth next to them. Graves moved among them, chatting. Fluffbear kept him company, as she worked on the wooden toy bodies that some of the ex-cultists had requested.
“No, I don’t think it’s a bad notion,” Graves said. “A bunny has some advantages over a bear, just in different areas-”
He broke off as he saw Threadbare. And about two hundred voices shouted out various greetings, as the soulstoned dead got into the act.
Threadbare greeted them back by name, one at a time, and chatted with them for a bit until about ten minutes later when Graves interrupted. “Sorry, I think we’ll need a few minutes. Can I shut off the Speak with Dead for a bit, folks?”
Then it took another few minutes to get through all the goodbyes. Threadbare didn’t mind. Everyone seemed happy, so that was good.
Graves, on the other hand, looked almost as haggard as he had back when he was still affected by Anise’s kiss. “Let’s walk, okay? I need to get out of here for a bit.”
“Sure.”
Fluffbear joined them as they walked out. “Breaktime is good.”
“Very good.” Graves sighed. Then he smiled. “I wonder if this is what it’s like to have children.”
“Well,” Threadbare said, glancing to Fluffbear, “She’s making their bodies so that makes her their mother, and we’re giving them their souls, so that makes us… hum… no, it doesn’t quite add up.”
“Am I being a good mother?” Missus Fluffbear asked.
“The best.” Graves smiled down at her.
“It really is a strange situation.” Threadbare admitted.
“I wasn’t meaning in the biological sense, or even the creator’s sense, like Caradon was with you lot. They’re already existing people, we’re just helping them transition from a bad state to a good one.” Graves rubbed his forehead. “Though I’m worried that they’re… well, they’re coming to see you as more than a good samaritan. Me too, but I’ve been discouraging it. I think if there was a job based around worshiping you, they’d take it.”
“What?” Threadbare would have blinked if he could have.
“Remember, these are people who let a charismatic cultist talk them into worshiping a dark power. You’re very much not that, you saved them from him as far as they’re concerned, and they’ve…” Graves shook his head. “They went for a good long time with a center to their lives. A faith, no matter how misguided. Then that faith got taken away. Now they’re searching for a new one, whether or not they know it. And here you are.”
“I’m not a dark power. I’m certainly not a god.”
“No. But that’s how they’re coming to look at you.”
“I don’t know if that’s right or wrong.”
“I can ask Yorgum about it,” Fluffbear offered, pointing to a stone bench off to the side of the Temple.
Threadbare looked to Graves, Graves shrugged. “Couldn’t hurt.”
The little bear clambered up on the bench, armor scraping on stone as she went, and knelt.
After a few minutes she looks up. “He said that if you don’t like it he’ll take them.”
Graves snorted. “Oh come on now…”
“He also said that you and Threadbare are the friends they need right now, but there’s things you can’t do for them, that will cause problems eventually. But he can do those things for them. And that in time if you survive and share responsibility you will find a lot of friendly priests of Yorgum who will be willing to learn how to make golems and transfer souls, with rules about it to keep Nurph and Nebs and everyone happy.”
“Huh. That’s a good point, actually,” Graves said, leaning against the wall, and pulling his goatee. “Right now it’s dependent on us. This whole thing we’ve discovered. And it raises questions about eternal life, which no Nebite worth their salt would tolerate. I mean now, we’re fixing the Kingdom and saving the world, but if we succeed there’s going to be a tomorrow.” Graves’ eyes lit up. “And if we can get the backing of the Church of Yorgum, and turn it into a sect, a holy order… it’ll be a lot easier to get it accepted by the populace. My gods.”
“Just one,” squeaked Fluffbear.
“I may have to join the faith. This guy is savvy.” Graves grinned.
“Ooh! Ooh! You should join right away! Tomorrow is pastry day!” Fluffbear said. “Living people love those thingies!”
“I’ll have a talk with the priest when we get back inside,” Graves said, animated in ways that had nothing to do with necromancy. “Thank you!” Then he twitched, and turned to Threadbare. “I’m sorry, what was it you wanted to talk about?”
Threadbare smiled. Graves didn’t look haggard at all anymore. “Oh, nothing. Do you know where everyone else is? Ah, besides Celia and Kayin?”
“Glub and Zuula are down at the Sturdy Stout, doing dungeon triage. Garon is running the training dungeon. Pretty sure the cats are with them, though with Pulsivar it’s hard to tell. You know.”
“I do.” Now that his friend was a Misplacer Beast, it was amazing how little they saw of him anymore.
“Cool. Alright,” Graves offered Fluffbear an arm up, and she hopped into his embrace. “Let’s go talk about my sudden attack of faith.”
“Yay!” Fluffbear said, as they went back inside. “My first convert!”
Threadbare smiled and headed down the street, to where the edge of the crafter’s district turned into microbrewery lane. Copper vats started poking out of the walls, and the sound of gurgling water running over mash filled his ears, as yeasty scent filled his nose. He lingered for a few minutes by the meadhall, sniffing, as he always did.
But eventually he remembered his task, and found his way to the Sturdy Stout. A tavern that had fallen on harder times, due to the war and the death of a lot of its regulars, the owners had been happy to rent it out to Gudrun, when she’d asked on the golems’ behalf.
After all, thanks to the giants, and King Grundi’s negotiation skills, they had a dungeon core to play with, didn’t they? And a whole lot of newly-made doll haunters who needed levels.
Downstairs, a strange melody played, as Glub squeezed an accordion and sang something soothing. Torn up teddy bears, with a brace of other toy types, sat at the tables and chatted, showing off loot and tending to their weapons. A few female-looking teddy bears leaned on the stage, gazing up at Glub with affection. And there, in the back corner, was Zuula. She sat there with a mug almost as much as she was, drinking it, then spitting it into a nearby spittoon.
“Is that fun?” Threadbare asked, pulling a chair up to the table. Dwarven chairs and tables were much more friendly to very small toys than human ones, he’d been relieved to find out.
“Is something to do,” Zuula grumbled. “Garon not letting Zuula run de dungeon no more. Just because Zuula killed a few dudes. Pfft, not like it permanent or nothing.”
“We’re supposed to be making them stronger, not making them have to reset their levels with deaths.”
“Bah! Is lesson! Next time fight better! Is… motivation.” She pounded another gulp, then spat it out. “Now is all slow regeneration whenever dey come back hurt, or whoops, get in de soulstone.” She gestured at the bag next to her. “At least Graves manage to get dem up to five-job stones. Which is more den most of dem need.”
“Well…” Threadbare began, then realized the room had gone silent. Every toy in there was looking his way, and whispers were going around the small crowd. “I think it’s good to have options,” he finished, adjusting his laurels.
Your Adorable skill is now level 36!
Your Adorable skill is now level 37!
Your Adorable skill is now level 38!
Your Adorable skill is now level 39!
You are now a level 11 Model!
AGI+3
CHA+3
PER+3
Checking timer…
Your Dietary Restrictions skill is now level 55!
Your Work it Baby skill is now level 55!
“Perhaps we could talk behind the bar?”Threadbare pointed at the room beyond.
“Sure. Beats barfing bad ale over and over.”
“Why are you doing that anyway?” He asked, as he followed her into the back room.
“It is what you do in taverns. Besides pinch ass and start fights.” She sighed. “Not allowed to do dat even. Not dat it help. You punch one of de golems, dey say sorry. Dey…” she shook her head. “Too grateful.”
“I had a talk with Graves and Fluffbear about that.”
“Dey see problem too? Good.” Zuula punched his shoulder. “Lot of faith dey got in you, Dreadbear. You better not let dem down.”
“I’ll try not to.”
“You do fine.” Zuula grinned. “Talking wit’ Jarrik earlier. Beryl t’inking maybe we three, me, Garon, and Jarrik be first flier driver people.”
“Really?”
“We all gots flight skill. Garon from when he trying to be dragon. Zuula from owl days. Jarrik because he actually survive first couple of tests. T’ree half-orcs be flying dose t’ings. Gonna call ourselves de Green Bear’uns because of you.”
“Thank you.”
Zuula leaned against a barrel. “You here because it starting to get to you, hm?”
“It is?”
“De fight. You not be liking fighting people. Not much for monsters, but dose is different. People, not so much. Not to you.”
Threadbare nodded. “Yes. However this goes, people are going to get hurt. And a lot of them don’t want to fight in the first place.”
“Is war. Is why stupid gods got a whole god so people can deal wit’ it.” Zuula sighed. “Is gonna be hard on you.”
“Yes. But I have to do this. Celia needs me to.” Threadbare thought a moment, then looked back to the door. “They need me to. You need me to.”
“Yes,” Zuula said. “You saved us all. But when you save some’ting, you responsible for it, from dat point on. It only exist because of you. If it turn out bad or do bad, is because you save it. But…” Zuula punched his shoulder again, gentler this time. “It same t’ing if it turn out good. That is you good, too.” She smiled, cloth lips stretching around wooden tusks. “And you done some good here. Never doubt dat.”
“Thank you.” He hugged her. And after tensing for a second, she hugged him back.
The door creaked behind him. “Hey man, I… oh, cuddle puddle? I’m in.” Wooden arms reached around them both and Glub grinned wide wooden jaws as he hugged them close.
“Yeah, Zuula go heal weakys up now,” the half-orc said, disengaging herself. “Good talk.” She punched them both in the shoulder, and wandered outside.
“Ha ha! See, she’s cool,” Glub said, disengaging. “In a sorta spiky might tear your head off randomly kinda way.”
“She’s Zuula.” Threadbare said.
“Yeah, that works. You doing okay bossman?”
“I came to check on you all.”
“I’m doin’ okay.” He shrugged. “Singin’ to a good audience, chilling with peeps and old, uh, friends. Turns out they’re pretty cool, now that I can talk to ‘em all. I’m glad we’re on good terms again. That whole cult thing was weird, in hindsight.”
“I think that’s how most cults are, from what Celia told me.”
“Dude. Well, s’all right. I’m doin’ okay. Just kind going with the flow. Y’know?”
“I think so.”
“Never seen a war before. Don’t have anything like that at home. Got a lot of cool stuff here we don’t have at home.” Glub filled his air bladders, let them sigh empty again. “Know what I’d like to do?”
“I don’t know.”
“I’d like to travel around some, after this is all done with, and see everything. Then go home and tell stories and sing songs about it.”
“Can you go home?” Threadbare asked. “Celia was pretty sure the Crown forces destroyed the gate.”
“Eh, I’m pretty sure there’s others around. And where there’s gates there’s cults to my old one. Just gotta find one.” He shrugged. “I’m immortal unless someone kills me, right? I got time. And this explorer thing is pretty cool, so leveling it up is only gonna make it cooler.”
“It really has helped us.” Threadbare smiled. “And so have you.”
“Thanks man.” Glub gave him a squeeze, then let him go. “Welp, gotta get back. Hand out waystones to groups going in, so they can teleport out if they get in over their heads.”
“Okay.” Threadbare nodded, and waved. Then his laurels slipped, and he pushed them up on his forehead.
One last person to check with.
Given the choice between going in the dungeon and waiting with Zuula, he opted for the latter. He watched doll haunters in their new bodies enter the tavern, collect waystones from Glub, and head upstairs… usually staring at him the whole while, or whispering to each other, with awestruck looks on their faces. His adorable skill chunked up a few more times, and he was pretty sure that he was getting model experience as well. To pass the time he put up buffs from that job.
Eventually, all the groups that went upstairs returned, coming back down the stairs or teleporting directly to Zuula, usually torn all to hell and back. And slowly they made their way out, to let their pools recharge, or perhaps just to experience moving around in bodies again. All told, it took a long time.
But golems are patient, and golems have no trouble with time. And after a couple of hours, Garon came down the stairs.
“We done yet?” Zuula growled.
“Almost. Figure it’ll be morning soon, we can go hang with Jarrik. Oh hey, Threadbare!”
“Hello.”
“Just in time. I wanted to talk with you.”
“Zuula headin’ back to de temple. Come get her when you done. Glub, you coming?”
“Sure, ma’am.”
And then they were alone in the tavern.
“It’s going well, before you ask,” Garon said as he pulled up a chair. “We’re letting them sort out their own jobs. We don’t have a prayer at teaching them dwarven battle tactics before the big fight, so they’re mainly going to be skirmishers. Skirmishers with a seriously good endurance, who don’t feel pain, and have a racial armor that stacks with the armor the dwarves are giving them. It should work out pretty well.”
“That’s good. How are you holding up?”
Garon tilted his head. “This is what I trained for, for most of my life. War. This isn’t how I was expecting to come to it, but I’m excited to finally get to try out my lessons.” He sighed. “And a little sad that I’m going to have to go up against my sister.”
“So what did you want to talk about?”
Garon folded his hands. “It’s about Mastoya, actually. I think I know how to reach her. But we’re going to have to beat her first.”
Threadbare nodded. “Okay.”
“When we meet her on the field, if we meet her on the field, and I’m sure we will, I want you to follow my lead, okay? No matter what I say.”
“Can you tell me what you’re planning? So I know how to follow it?”
“That’s the hard part. I can’t, because it’s all going to depend on the circumstances and how it plays out. But…” Garon spread his hands, slapped them on the table. “It’s one last try. My last chance to save her. I… I need this. You know? And Mom needs this, even if she won’t admit it.”
“Zuula said something about you being in a flier.”
“Then Wind’s Whisper me when you come to her. You’re staying on the ground, right?”
“Oh yes. I don’t know how to fly.”
“Then she’ll come to you. I guarantee it. Stall her until I get there. Fight her, talk to her, whatever.” Garon shook his head, tossing his horns. “Please. I need this.”
