Chapter 280: Feel the Fear and Druid Anyway

Chapter 280: Feel the Fear and Druid Anyway

Maurice jumped up. We have to do something! Then he threw up.

None of us were very big drinkers, and Maurice had downed a whole bottle of something that smelled of rotten apples, so it wasnt surprising his stomach couldnt handle it. On the plus side, it all came out very quickly and confined itself to a small pool on the floor. Easy cleanup, for someone.

We stood there pulling faces and doing our best not to let the smell make us start a vomit conga.

Had the girls been here, one of them would have taken charge and tidied everything up in a jiffy. An incredibly sexist arrangement, you might think, but there are things better handled by some people than others.

If you think about it, who would have the power in that situation? The people standing around looking lost and uncertain, or the ones taking control and getting shit done? I know who Id pay more for at a slave auction, and isnt that the real test of how valuable a person is?

Maurice was still unsteady after his sudden retching, and Dudley was looking around for something to throw on the puke so we could pretend it wasnt there.Updated from novelbIn.(c)om

We could move the chest of drawers to cover it? was his best suggestion.

I dont think thatll help with the smell, I pointed out.

We were acting like wed get in trouble if anyone found out, but that was just because we were a bunch of retards. I took a breath, regretted it, gagged slightly, and then left the room.

We were in an inn. They had people to take care of this sort of thing. I was pretty sure they were used to worse than a little sick on the floor. They probably had a chute for dead hooker disposal.

It was quite late and there was no one at the reception desk. Room service was another thing we needed to invent, right after the telephone. I rang the bell on the desk and after only a few seconds the innkeeper appeared through the curtain at the back. He was in a nightgown and nightcap. He was bright-eyed, though, and fully awake.

How can I help you, sir?

My friends taken ill and threw up on the floor. Could you send someone to

Jaina! he shouted before Id even finished. His wife came out in a dressing gown, her hair piled up and stuck with pins. Clean up in room He turned to me.

Three, I said.

The wife (yes, hes the innkeeper and shes the wife, leave me alone) turned towards the stairs and shouted, Seema!

A girl came running down, it sounded like from the very top of the building, and was informed of the situation. She ran into another room and reappeared with a bucket and mop. She ran back up the stairs.

I did feel a bit bad for disturbing all these people, but it was their job, and I was paying them. Still, I felt obliged to thank them and apologise, and generally act like I had let them down terribly.

It was how a nice boy acts. It wasnt how a hero of the kingdom behaves, I would guess. When I did finally build up the confidence to order people around like servants, would that mean Id finally made it to alpha male status, or just that Id become a huge douchebag? And is there a difference?

The innkeeper and her husband (happy now?) were very nice about it and told me not to worry, theyd take care of everything, which only reminded me I was in a fantasy world. You dont get that kind of customer service in England, land of the pouty salesgirl.

I noticed a chain around the wifes neck with a rocket-shaped pendant (or possibly a vertical fish), the same symbol the Shriners used.

Are you followers of the Golden God? I asked as casually as I could.

Thats right, she said with a big smile.

Im only a two-star man, said the husband. Shes a three-star woman. He seemed very proud of her accomplishment. I had no idea how their tier system worked or what advantages you got from gaining stars. Possibly it worked the same as it did for people who worked at McDonaldsevery star gets you an extra dollop of tartare sauce on your filet o fish.

I gave them a recounting of seeing the Pope and his acolytes in the city square, doing my best to sound awestruck by the pageantry of it all. I didnt communicate my discomfort this had all taken place on a giant human skull, because I know how to be tactful. I am a master of tact, and if you dont agree, I suggest you go fuck yourself.

Have you seen the Golden God? He sounds very impressive.

Oh no, said the wife. Nobody has seen the Golden God.

Sounded about right. Why offer proof when you could sell tickets to a big song and dance show every day.

Where does he live, though? In the sky?

They both laughed like this was a wonderfully absurd idea.

No, no, said the wife. He lives in the temple.

He has his own room? I asked.

Under the temple, said the husband. They built it on top of him.

What do you know about the Shriners? I said.

He stopped struggling. You want to know about them?

Yes.

Not about us? He seemed a bit hurt, emotionally.

Not really. What can you tell me about the Golden God? Is he dangerous? I backed off a bit. We were all on the floor with the druid rolled up like a sausage in the middle.

What does he eat? asked Maurice, scrambling for his notebook.

I dont know, said the druid. Im not his keeper. Ask his cook.

Does he have a cook? asked Dudley.

How would I know? I dont work for them, do I? The druid was getting quite ticked off that we assumed hed know these things and began complaining about unfair expectations that no one could possibly live up to.

Knowing your enemy wasnt his idea of good warcraft, apparently. If hed read a bit more widely he might have known the supreme art of war is to subdue your enemy without fighting.

Have you any idea where these sheets have been? I whispered in his cloth-covered ear. Theyve been soiled, heavily. People juices. Stains like crisp packets. I stuffed part of the sheet into his mouth, muffling his screams.

Actually, said Maurice, I think they change them every

I kicked Maurice and kept the pressure on the druid's face.

Tentacles burst through the sheet. They werent that big, the size of fingers, but long enough to freak me out. I jumped back, as did the others.

The druid freed himself from the laundered sheets, spitting and coughing, his face back to normal, tentacleless.

Disgusting, he said between gasping breaths. You people are sick.

Look, I said, deciding Dudleys direct approach might be worth a shot, the Shriners have our women. Theyve taken them below their temple. Are they going to feed them to their god?

We waited for his answer.

His breathing returned to normal, more or less, and he unwound himself, gingerly. There were actually a few stains of a questionable nature that the local brand of detergent hadnt been able to shift. Id have cracked in five seconds with that in my mouth.

I dont know, he said. The Golden God is unknown to me.

What about your god? Whats he like?

The druid looked confused. Which of the old gods are you referring to?

The one who looks like a green brain, I said.

The druid scowled. He isnt a god, he is our leader. He is Xesar.

Okay, but is he a nice guy? I asked.

He isnt nice. He is great!

Hes a great guy? asked Maurice.

That sounds nice, said Dudley.

No, said the druid. He is fearsome and terrible. You could tell he was trying too hard to make his boss sound like a baws.

Can we meet him? I asked. We promise not to make fun of him for looking like a piece of broccoli.

He doesnt look like broccoli! insisted the druid. Quickly following up with, What is broccoli?

Take us, please, said Maurice, opting for the most direct routebegging. He looked like he was about to cry and took a corner of the sheet to blow his nose. The druid was disgusted. I made a mental note of which corner it was in case I needed it to threaten him with later.

You cannot meet with Xesar. His location is secret. Only druids may receive the wisdom of Xesar.

Okay, I said. How do I become a druid?