Chapter 319

Chapter 319

In all his years, Jorani had never seen anything like it. They must have picked it up during their trek through the tall grasslands of Central, with plains so dense they needed blades to hack through it. Silent and stealthy, who knew how long itd hidden within their midst, hitching a ride on Rals pants with no one the wiser. With a round, fat torso and a rounder, tiny head, the creature flapped its wings so quickly Jorani could barely make them out, a lovely blur of dark emerald and inky obsidian. Long as a finger and at least three wide, the six-legged creature flailed about in futility and clicked its... mouth or arms, caught between Rals fingers as the dumb oaf studied it with unbridled interest.

Knowing what was coming but unable (or unwilling) to stop it, Jorani watched in a mixture of abject horror and morbid curiosity as Ral tilted his head back, opened his mouth, and popped the still-wriggling creature in without hesitation. Chomping down with a juicy crunch, Ral wore a contemplative expression as he parsed through the taste. Recoiling in disgust, Jorani couldnt close his eyes or look away, unable to even blink. Slurping the still writhing legs into his mouth, Rals floppy ears flapped back and forth as he absently checked his body for more of the edible passengers, chewing noisily all the while. Smacking his lips, Ral gave Jorani a bashful grin, displaying the bits of the creature still stuck between his teeth. Yum... Tastes like pine nuts Jor. You think we can find more? Im real hungry...

Repressing a shudder, Jorani finally closed his eyes and convinced himself the creature wasnt still moving. It was broken up into a thousand pieces, how could it still be squirming about? Ill spread the word to keep an eye out for em, he said, unable to look his friend in the face. Wont be but a thing. What Chey saw in the big oaf, Jorani would never understand. He was happy for Ral, he was, but also incredibly jealous.

So. Very. Jealous.

Thanks Jor. Sucking his teeth, Ral asked, What did I eats?

Now he asks. Cant rightly say. Aint ever been to this part of the woods before, we on a whole new playing field.

Nodding sagely, Ral said, Right Jor. Like them big, hole-diggin ground squirrels we saw. They looked real soft and fuzzy, pokin out of the grass like they did. You think we should go back and grab a few? For the boss, I mean. Hed like em lots.

And so would Ral. Thats all the big oaf did these days, play with the bossmans pets, fool around with Chey, and train. Motioning for the squad to fall in behind him, Jorani snorted softly. Even if we had the time and means to grab a few, theyd be fer stewin, not snugglin. Yers aint the only belly rumblin around here.

Ah, sorry Jor, I forgot to share. You eat the next one.

Dont you worry bout it. This time the shudder got away from him and Jorani banished the memory from his mind. Think about something else, like a nice, plump, chicken stewed on a bed of radish and bamboo shoots, with a big bowl of fragrant fried rice to go with it. Or a juicy cut of venison garnished with onions, cloves, and ginger, slow roasted over coals and washed down with a jug of honeyed wine. Hell, Jorani was so hungry, hed even entertain the notion of eating one of them giant squids the other squads went on about. His crew never got a taste, since theyd been busy guarding camp while the others enjoyed a delicious, professionally-cooked meal paid for with the bossmans copper.

The bossman promised to make it up to Jorani and his crew, but with the way things had gone, that didnt look likely to happen anytime soon.

Truth be told, Jorani was more than a little miffed at the bossman, downright peeved in fact. Falling Rain didnt understand the concept of rest and he pushed his people too damn far. After a month of hard travel, where they woke at dawn, travelled till dusk, and crammed in as much training as humanly possible, Jorani thought their suffering had come to an end when they finally reached Nan Ping.

How wrong he was.

While Jorani skipped dinner to catch up on much needed sleep, the bossman wasted no time pissing off the locals, accepting an eight-against-one duel and winning in his customary, domineering fashion. Jorani heard all about it the next morning, after being woken bright and early by the guttural curses and hard knuckles of Bulat and Ravil. Turns out, after a month of rest, Mister Rustram wasted no time getting back into the habit of their gruelling and painful training. Suffering in silence, Jorani endured the verbal and physical abuse for the time being, counting down the days until he was strong enough to stand up and tell the world the bossman was crazier than a sack full of rabid weasels.

He didnt have to be stronger than the bossman, he just had to outrun him.

Adding piss to sour wine, not only did Jorani never get a taste of Nan Pings fine cuisine, hed been stuck eating dry travel rations for a month now. Time was hed be happy enough with a full belly and a place to lay his head, but that was before he knew how good food really tasted. The day after they arrived, the bossman brought Dastans crew into the city and they came back with tales of all the mouth-watering delicacies they ate, things like salt and pepper crab, spicy spinach noodles, chili prawns, and more, instantly becoming the envy of the camp. The next day, the bossman stayed outside and ate the same travel fare everyone else choked on, and the day after that was when the Guardian Turtle of Ping Yao wrecked a merchant house and got Falling Rain exiled from the city.

Thats how the story went, and while Jorani hadnt seen the incident first hand, one look at the sluggish, docile turtle was enough to know it was a load of crap. It didnt take a tactical genius to figure out the bossman had a deep-seated hatred for bristleboars and sent the turtle in to do his dirty work. Though there were stories going around about the bossmans darker nature, Jorani still had trouble imagining the friendly kid angry enough to lay hands on Mister Rustram. Ruthless and intimidating as he was, the bossman rarely let the smile slip from his face, so whatever them bristleboars did to him, it must have been bad. Ravil opined the bossmans hatred had something to do with the Bekhai grudge against the Society, but Jorani thought otherwise. If the bossman could make friends with Situ Jia Zian, a man he fought a duel to the death against, then why would he harbour hatred for a bunch of half-breeds hed never met just because they all hailed from the same ancestor?

There was more to it but damned if Jorani was about to go digging around. Poking about in a mans past was a quick way to get yourself a one way trip to the Fathers maw, and he wanted nothing to do with whatever set the bossman off. Instead, Jorani smiled, nodded, and set out to follow his orders, inwardly grumbling the entire time. Destroying the merchant house wasnt enough, now the bossman wanted Jorani and the others to inspect the properties belonging to the Canston Trading Group without saying why, but his purpose was easy enough to guess.

The bossman was in the mood to help the bristleboars lighten their pockets, and Jorani was happy to oblige.

Well, not exactly happy, but pleased. Hed be happier if their circumstances werent complete horseshit. Then again, horseshit might be an improvement, because that meant they at least had horses. Bossman didnt let them take any quins either, nor any wagons, armour, bows, crossbows, or Spiritual Weapons. He didnt want them carrying anything which might identify them as Bekkies, which was everything, and ordered them to blend in with the locals, which was stupid. There aint anyone more mistrustful than isolated village folk. Theyd mark Joranis crew as foreigners the second any of them opened their mouths, if not before, but the bossman speaks and Jorani obeys.

Almost an hour later, Siyar appeared out of nowhere and frantically signalled for Ronga to drop the ropes. In short order, the four of them were off and away, slinking back to where the rest of the crew waited. Gathering them all, Jorani beat a hasty retreat, running back the way they came for three hours before calling for a break. Breathless, exhausted, and hungry, Jorani finally got around to asking Siyar, Whatd you find?

Nothing good. With a sour grimace, Siyar horked into the grass, as if trying to clear his mouth of an unpleasant taste. Them tents be packed with slaves, a right sorry lot if I ever seen one. Aint no call to treat a man that way, even less a woman.

Never a pleasant sight, but thems the breaks. Freeing slaves was the bossmans hobby, not Joranis. Anything else? Jorani asked, impatient to get some rest. If thats all there was, then theyd have to go back and look around again.

Dunno. Slipped into the warehouse. Aint no winery, aint even wine storage. Reaching into his pouch, Siyar pulled out two copper vessels, wrapped in silk to keep them from making noise. Shit, when did Siyar find time to meet the local ladies and win their favour? At least two ladies no less, life just aint fair. He wasnt even handsome or strapping, just an average looking schmuck. Aint no one selling wine in tiny sippy jars, much less ones caulked shut with resin. Smells like dog farts and rotting entrails, it does. Had thousands of them all boxed up, nice and neat.

Taking one of the receptacles to study, Jorani looked it over from top to bottom. Each one about as thick as his thumb and twice as long, they were half-filled with liquid sloshing around inside and sealed to keep it from leaking out. He was about to crack it open when he remembered his hard-learned lesson only a few hours ago. Handing the container to Ronga, he ordered the sneak-thief to open it. With a small crack, Ronga twisted off the containers top and a dark, oily liquid spilled out onto his left hand, stinking to high heavens like rot and death. Waving a hand to disperse the smell, Jorani congratulated himself for learning to delegate and asked, What is that?

No clue, Ronga replied, using grass to wipe the gunk off. Its cold though. Tingles too. Its kinda nice.

Taste it, Jinoe suggested.

You fucking taste it, ye rotter.

Undeterred, Jinoe asked, You think it burns? Like the stuff the Coalition used back in Sanshu?

Holding a hand up to forestall everyones curiosity, Jorani shook his head. No light. Well leave this for the bossman to find out. Nodding at the opened copper vessel still in Rongas hand, he added, Toss that somewhere far from camp and get some sleep. Four hours rest, I want us gone by daylight.

Walking away from the stench, Jorani found himself a nice little patch of grass and settled in with Ral, falling asleep the moment he closed his eyes.

And opened them again almost immediately after as a muffled scream tore through the camp.

No, not immediately, it was daylight, faint as it was. Running towards the commotion, he found Jinoe and Ronga grapping on the ground as the former kept the latters screams to a subdued level. Its his hand, Jinoe hissed. Its burnin up somethin fierce.

Burning was right, though neither flame nor smoke could be seen, patches of charred skin spread across the sneak-thiefs left hand and up his forearm, exposing tender blackened flesh beneath. Wrapping his hand with a spare shirt, Jorani grabbed Ronga by the wrist and wrestled the poor bastard onto his back with Jinoes help. Wrapping a belt around his bicep as a tourniquet, Jorani straightened the arm and hissed, Ral, chop!

Gotcha Jor.

Before the words finished leaving his mouth, Rals axe flashed through the air and cut Rongas arm cleanly off at the elbow. Checking to see if the burns were still spreading, Jorani tossed the ruined shirt and severed arm aside and set to tending Rongas wounds, whod mercifully passed out. No worries, Jorani muttered. You can always grow yerself a new arm. Least you didnt taste it. Passing the work off to a more experienced hand, Jorani stood up and stared at the severed arm, well on its way to ashes. What happened?

Eyes wide with worry, Jinoe answered without looking away from his wounded friend. No idea. He woke up screamin like a stuck pig with a hand black as ash. It was that stuff which dunnit, had to be.

With Jinoes help, Jorani tracked down the broken vessel Ronga discarded before going to sleep. Laying in a patch of blackened grass and cracked stones, the intact half of the copper vessel sat less than twenty meters from camp, the pitch black liquid now a hardened, sticky mass. Whatever it was, it was a real piece of work, the bane of flesh, grass, stone, and probably more.

Welp, Jorani said to no one in particular. Least we didnt waste the trip.

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