Book 2: Chapter 57: Curtain Call

Book 2: Chapter 57: Curtain Call

“So, trackin’ magic, eh?” I frowned at the stupidly gaudy business card.

Richter pointed at some of the faintly glowing runes. “Aye. It’s a standard type.”

“See!? A right bastard!” Johnsson complained.

I rolled my eyes. “Ugh. He was insufferable to talk to, too. I’m glad I had ya check. Thanks Richter!”

Richter was downright smug. “Just happy ta use my new Blessing for da brewery.”

Blackbeard had cornered me at the launch party and waxed poetic about Kinshasa and becoming one of his ‘minions’ for hours. He’d tried to bribe me with gold, girls, power, and everything in between. I’d stumped him by asking for hops. He’d given a little jump, just in case that was what I was asking for, which was adorable in its own way. Too bad he was such an egotistical frizzface. At least he’d taken no for an answer, though he’d extracted a promise out of me to come visit when we made it to the capital.

“What are you going to do with it?” Aqua asked, pointing at the erstwhile business card.

I *hrm*’ed. “Coupla options. Can ya remove it, Richter?”

“Aye, easy. Easier dan makin’ it anyway.”

“I can think of a few ways ta make use of it given that I know it has tracking, but he doesn’t know I know. He strikes me as the special kind of moron that overestimates himself and underestimates everyone else,” I continued. Read latest chapters at nov(e)lbin.com Only

“Go on...” Aqua hedged.

“I could put it on the bottom of a cart headed out East and make him think I’m somewhere else. I could keep it on me just long enough for him to get used to knowing where I am, then give it to someone else at an opportune moment. I could feed it to a monster, ask a [Displacer] to teleport it somewhere far away, try to reverse it so it tracks him, give it to a gnomish ninja and ask them to follow exactly ten paces behind him at all times...”

All the dwarves gathered gave me wary looks. Annie just shook her head.

“That’s... pretty tricksy Pete.” Johnsson hedged.

“Almost elvish.” Kirk accused. “And I’ve actually met elves.”

“What can I say? I’m a card carrying maniac!” I grinned.

There was a concentrated moan, and we returned to the serious business of preparations. Georgie moved crates of bottles and various pieces of brewing equipment. Johnsson, Markus, and Moony laboured with cleaning out the tanks. Annie carefully drew schematics of our current brewing setup, while ordering Aqua around. And Kirk, of course, cleaned the rafters for possibly the last time with Zirce and Emma.

We bickered, we laughed, we cried. There was a lot of crying.

This past week we made some hard decisions on who was staying, and who was leaving. Simply put, we didn’t have enough people to dwarf both the brewery here, and the new brewery in Kinshasa.

Markus and Moony were the first to volunteer to stay behind. They were getting on in years and didn’t want to deal with uprooting. Zirce and Emma were next. Both of them had too many friends and relations here in Minnova, and their old jobs were happy to take them back.

John and Jeremiah agreed to come out of retirement to keep things running. They did, of course, require that Georgie stay behind to protect their aching backs.

Johnsson was desperate to come, as was Aqua, though Richter was still undecided. He still had thoughts of joining the University here. We told him that he had until the day before departure to decide.

Annie and Balin and I were no-brainers, as was Kirk. Having a porter to port while we traveled the weeks-long journey to Kinshasa would be invaluable.

Lemontwist agreed to stay and run the kitchen, and Bran was going to give his ‘will he stay or will he go’ tonight.

And then it was time for our last party in Minnova. A combination Blessing Party for Johnsson and going away bash. Catered by.... Joejam.

“Aye. They don’t have beer in them, but they’re great with beer!”

Spruceleaf read over her father’s shoulder. “This looks easy enough, but why?”

“Because it’ll be the best thing since Whistlemugs with any heavy drinker.” I grinned. “I’m leaving it for you, but I hope it’ll also bring business to us.”

Beer nuts were simple enough to make, especially now that I had all my cookbooks.

Pete’s Frankly Delicious Beer Nuts

Ingredients:

2 Cups of Peanuts or Other Nuts

Pinch of Salt

1 Teaspoon Sugar

1 Cup of Water

1 Teaspoon Frank’s Red Hot Sauce

Steps:

Boil the sugar, peanuts, water, salt, and hot sauce until the liquid is fully absorbed.Preheat the oven to 300 degrees.Spread the coated peanuts on a pan. Bake for 20 minutes.

Of course, I had told them to use spicy cayenne spice instead of Frank’s.

Spruceleaf led her father away as he read the instructions again, giving me a wink and a smile as she did so.

Then it was back to greeting people. When the flow of newcomers died to a trickle, I headed into the pub to mingle, leaving Annie and Richter to run the welcoming party. There was so much to do, so many to see, and so little time to do it all! We had Pong, Axeschlaggen, Liquid Gold, Barista Brew, Ass-Blaster, good food, and the occasional tossed dwarf; everything needed for an amazing time. Things were jumping!

The party was just reaching a fever pitch, when a small knot of silence started at the door. Then the angry yelling started, and I recognized Richter’s voice. With herculean effort - namely asking Kirk to toss me over the crowd - I arrived just in time to see Richter punch a dwarf I didn’t recognize in the face.

I had just enough time to shout “Richter! Watch out!” before I plowed into him and we fell to the floor in a tangle of limbs. Kirk had good aim!

“Get offa me, Pete! Comin’ here tonight! Yearns Yams, I’ll rip ‘im apart!” Richter had a far higher Strength than me, and easily stood while I desperately clung to his side like a squat hairy koala. Which was exactly like a regular koala, come to think of it.

“Richter, calm down! You’re making a scene!” I got a glance of Richter’s face and paled at what I saw there. His eyes were beginning to glow with an inner red light. He was reaching for a weapon, and he looked seconds away from losing control to the Red Rage. I grabbed him by the shoulder and whispered the first thing I could think of to shock him out of it. “Your bet with Bran about what I am, you won the bet.”

The red immediately fled from Richters eyes, and he stared at me in confusion.

“What?” He began. “You-”

“We’ll talk about it later. You probably have a ton of questions, but I do too. What’s going on?”

The dwarf he’d decked was rising to his feet, and I realised with shock that he looked a lot like an older version of Richter. He had the black skin and dreadlocked beard of a southern dwarf, though his skin was weathered and cracked with age. He stood with a slight stoop, unlike Richter’s upright stance, and wore glasses.

Richter scowled at him and answered my unasked question. “This billy-goat bearded bastard is me da, Otto Scree.”