Slumrat Rising

Chapter 69: Funny Numbers

The game was fun, if incomprehensible. There were layers to the strategy that Truth just wasn’t getting, but that was ok. The cousins were half the entertainment by themselves. Jember was willing to cheer just about anything that looked dramatic. Etenesh was intense and focused. She was like a spring, winding tighter and tighter until she exploded with boos or shouts of triumph. Truth just cheered randomly and laughed at the silly faces and thrusting hips. It was… fun. He couldn’t think of a single time he had done something like that before.

When the game ended, they showed him to a spare bedroom. It was nice- a single bed, all made up in a small but cozy room.

“Kind of you to make the bed. Thank you.” Truth said.

“No trouble at all. Bisqet did all the work.” Jember waved away the thanks.

“Bisqet?”

“My-” Etenesh said something Truth didn’t catch. “She’s wonderful, a big help in my work.”

“I’m sorry, I don’t know that word. She’s your what?”

“Oh a —, think of it like… a sort of lightly bound spirit? One that is not malevolent and is willing to work for a salary, essentially.”

“A spirit on salary?!” Truth sputtered.

“Sort of? Like having a demon servant that you feed your magic to, except much more trustworthy. And expensive, I suppose. You do need to offer it sacrifices regularly.”

“That’s a new one to me.” Truth yawned. It had been a bewildering sort of day. He was ready to sleep. The bed was very soft. His sleep was deep and refreshing.

The System, however, did not have a good night.

_______________________________________

“Waddaya want from me, Nicky? I told you I can’t get you a job. I went and asked anyway. It nearly cost me my job. You are shit out of luck. But you got a nice little farm here, and your books sell, and your play is so funny it’s dangerous. People love it. So why torture yourself? Why torture me?”

“Why? Why?! Because I am a citizen! A citizen of the best and most remarkable city in the world! One that could be a beacon to the world. If only competent people ran it.” The skinny man’s cheeks were hollow, but his eyes were fever bright. “I would even settle for incompetents wise enough to listen to good advice.”

“See? Shit like that is why you aren’t getting hired back. You got done wrong. I know it. Everyone who worked with you knows it. But you are the all-time shit-talking champion of the Chancellery, which is not a great trait in a diplomat. And you keep talking shit about the people you want to rehire you.”

“Oh, please! I will pour endless barrels of oil in their ears if they grant me an audience. Even my dislike can be set aside if it means the city will prosper.” He waved aside the little inconvenience. The skinny man showed no signs of the torture he had survived. It had been years ago, after all. Truth always thought asking the people who tortured you for a job was pretty weird. But then, Nicky was pretty weird.

He liked to play dress up and talk to dead people. Didn’t care who knew it, either. He was proud of it.

“A fox, not a lion?”

“I cannot believe those imbeciles didn’t catch my joke.”

“Nicky, half of ‘em can’t read. The other half can only read bank ledgers. You gotta… yanno… know your audience. These are guys who spend a lot of time looking at pictures.”

They were sitting on a bench outside Nicky’s charming little farmhouse. The yellow stone had absorbed the day’s heat and kept them comfortably warm as they watched the sunset over the vineyards. A little bird was hopping around the well, dancing about as it looked for water or insects. Truth could hear Marietta calling for the kids to come in and wash up for supper. The air was fresh and clean, not the muggy, fecal stench of the city.

“I fucking hate it here,” Nicky said softly. “I fucking hate it. It’s smothering me. Our home is a single breath away from disaster. Now is the time for daring action. These spoiled children think they can buy love, and they can, for a time. But when their purse dries up, that love will turn to hate. The city will turn on them, and everyone will die. Should there be survivors, they can only serve foreign masters in the rubble. They will never be free again. A wise prince does not seek to be loved or feared. But if these sister-humping morons had half the brains of my morning shit, they would know it’s better to be feared.”

“You know you are talking about my family, right?” Truth gave him the side eye.

“Legally, I’m not.”

A swallow darted past, catching a mosquito in flight.

“Fuck you too, Nicky.”

_____________________________________

Truth awoke to what was rapidly becoming his favorite sound in the morning- the System screaming in heartbreaking agony. Comfortable bed. Deep, dreamless sleep. Something unknowable about his very nature torturing the System. All the good things. The birds had raised their voices in song. Singing their praise of the glorious new day.

“I DON’T CARE IF SHE GREW A DICK ON HER FOREHEAD! I DON’T CARE IF IT’S YOUR DICK! SPEND THE REST OF YOUR LIFE AS THOMASE THE DICKLESS FOR ALL I CARE!”

Merkovah’s voice was so loud it vibrated the floorboards. The birds flew away. Truth sighed and rolled out of bed. The bellowing continued at a more restrained level.

“I have spent WEEKS teaching the bored little morons you call students. WEEKS of keeping these degenerate swine from killing themselves summoning basic imps. WEEKS! Do you know how much money I’ve lost doing you this favor? Do you?!”

There was a murmuring coming from the other end of the communication altar.

“No. NO. Not again. Not for a single hour or minute longer. I am gone. Pack up my office for me and ship it to my wife, or I swear I will swap your testicles and eyes around.”

Urgent muttering from the altar this time. Truth quickly hauled on clean underwear and some fresh socks. He hoped he would get paid soon. He was still wearing the clothes he looted from those gangsters, and it wasn’t the best.

“Well, Thomase, you can either fix it yourself or bring your “head” game to an exciting new level. Experiment a little. Find out what’s good for you now. I don’t care. I don’t care even a little bit. Never call me again. Actually, no, do call me. I want to hear more about your every little humiliating fuckup. Send me pictures. I want to publish a newsletter. I’ve got friends around the world who need to see this.”

The murmuring took on a more whining, pleading tone.

“Thomase, I say this with “love.” Truth could hear the quotations through the floorboards. His shoes were falling apart too. The acid rain seemed to have caught them, and he just hadn’t noticed with everything going on. Pity. They were comfortable.

“You are trying to “save” a succubus. By treating her like a human girlfriend. You, Thomase, a man who theoretically RUNS A SCHOOL OF DEMONOLOGY, are trying to “reform” a succubus. WHO NOW OWNS YOUR DICK. You say you cannot fix this problem yourself. You have made some terrible life choices. I’m done enabling you. Goodbye.”

There was a noise that sounded suspiciously like someone smashing an expensive communication altar.

Truth had all his stuff stowed away, not that he had really unpacked much. It sounded like they would be making a speedy exit from the city.

“EVERYONE! PACK UP! WE WILL EAT BREAKFAST ON THE ROAD!” Merkovah’s voice echoed loudly through the house. Truth was surprised to see Etenesh and Jember packed, washed, and waiting at the foot of the stairs. He gave them an interrogational look.

Jember smiled. “This was a long time coming, and we are usually up early. He’s got a pattern. Well, you will see.”

Truth nodded and stowed his gear on his two-wheeler. He took a moment to fix the acid-bolt fetish. Never knew when you might need it, and it was just fixing a couple of channels. No heavy lifting. He heard the rest of the household come tromping out, headed for Merkovah’s carriage.

“Hey Tommy, are you going to what the hell is that?!” Etenesh’s voice rose in shock.

“What?”

“That! That fetish you are holding! It feels cursed to Hell!”

Truth considered that a moment. Technically acid bolt could not be considered a sort of curse. But practically? Eh. “Acid-bolter. Piece of crap army surplus job that wasn’t great when it was made.”

“Alright, great, I’ve learned something. Why do you have it?” There was a fair bit of heat in the question.

“Because I was riding through the Free State, and it became necessary? And it was free?” Truth tried to find the most diplomatic way he could say it.

Merkovah started chanting furiously, waving a comically large thumb ring at the house. The air shimmered as five fire demons materialized. They quickly spaced themselves around the house and summoned pillars of fire at Merkovah’s shouted command. The rather nice suburban home was ashes mere minutes later. Then another order was given, and all the heat suddenly vanished. The ashes looked cool to the touch.

“Same as always with you. When are you going to have us do something useful? Or interesting?” One of the demons demanded. Merkovah hurled the thumb ring at the demon, causing it to explode into cinders.

He glared at the other demons as the ring flew back into his hand with a “thwap.” “Anybody else got a question?”

They did not. Truth had noticed that Thrush had been keeping his mouth shut for a long time now.

“We are going. Now. Etenesh, I told you he was hired as a bodyguard. Though, Tommy, I would remind you that Siphios is not the Free State, and running around with military-grade weaponry will not make you many friends. Also, I didn’t see this before, but why is there a spear and a machete lashed to your… vehicle?”

Truth tried to think of the most diplomatic way to put it and drew a blank yet again. “Because I was riding through the Free State, and they became necessary? And they were free?”

“Define free?” Jember asked in a half-joking way.

“No, don’t. We are going now. Follow me. Try and think about what I taught you last night as we go.” Merkovah shoved the cousins into the carriage.

They drove up through the city, and, blessings upon blessings, the road outside the city was paved. They seemed to be headed roughly northwest, but beyond that, Truth was just following Merkovah.

“Thrush, you feel safe to come out?” Truth tapped his necklace.

“Candidly, Master? Your slave begs to be returned to Hell.”

“First of all, quit it with the “slave” shit. Second, really? You guys usually can’t wait to get out of there.”

“For roughly the same reason you drove the long way through the Free State. Opportunities to grow and to fulfill our nature. However, as fruitful as our partnership has been, I would rather leave your service in one piece. Metaphorically speaking. All three of your new acquaintances are attended by beings vastly above my low station. To the point where they would be offended by my simple presence. With terminal consequences for me, and possibly you too.”

Thrush’s familiar velvety voice went a little rough. “Besides, that exorcist is… more than he seems. I can tell you that he’s not fifty, for one thing.”

“I KNEW IT! The bastard looks way too young to be fifty.”

“Yes. He is closer to five hundred. And he appears to be quite determined to form you into a living weapon. This may not be bad for you, but I thought you would want to know. Now kindly send me back to Hell, where it’s safe.”