Two of Knaves [Deckbuilder] Chapter 42- What They Don’t Teach in School

Arc 4 - The Matchbox

Chapter 42- What They Don’t Teach in School

I slept for two days. Apparently, I had pushed my will much further than I ought have. It’s not exactly a rare problem, among mages. Using willpower to shape the arcane or divine isn’t like drawing from a well of magic that dries up as you empty it. It’s more like a credit that you borrow against. And just like drunks and gamblers who find themselves indentured, reckless mages find a toll taken on their body and spirit until that debt is paid.

When I woke up on the the evening of the third day, I must have still owed a little bit. I rolled off of rat-bed with my hands to my temples and sniffed at the decanter on my table. The water had gone stale, but still less foul than the sli coating the inside of my mouth. I nearly gagged when the first sip reawakened my sense of taste. I splashed so on my face and hair, as well, feeling the grit of dried salt from the night-sweats on my cheeks. I needed a haircut, a shave, and a bath. But, first, I needed so numb-bark tea.

Luckily, the Mop n’ Bucket being a ho-base for a collection of pit-fighters ant that painkillers were in no short supply. I made my way down to the bar on the main floor and caught Jaco’s eye.

“Got any of that good-good back there?” I mumbled.

He grunted, sucking on his pipe, and disappeared into the back room. He erged a mont later with a pot of water and a clay cup. A pair of powder envelopes were pinched between his fingers, and he tore two of them open and emptied them into the cup. The hot water ca next, and I could sll the bitter pain-killer.

“Let it steep,” warned Jaco. “Five minutes.”

“I take back every an thing I’ve said about you,” I mumbled. He just shook his head and went back to topping off lager steins. I listened to so of the gossip at the bar while I waited for the tea to steep. I heard a pair of the boys talking about a highborn woman who was asking around the middle city brothels for a plane-touched girl with white skin and flaxen hair. Sounded like Lenise, except Lenise was an elf.

Yet one more was telling Miss Trundi that adventurer traffic had been light in Bristledown and Barrowdown because sothing was drawing adventurers to the undercity on the west side of Dragonmaw.

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A couple of girls had serviced sailors who ntioned a gaming house that had opened in the southeast corner of Barrowdown near the docks. I ntally made a note to pay them a visit with Annalisa and make sure they knew the way things were around here.

Speaking of Annalisa, a cold blast of air and flurry of fat snowflakes suddenly swirled throughout the common room, to alard shouts and moans. I looked around for the source of the sudden blizzard.

“Darcent! DARCENT! Up here!”

I tilted my head up, and ca face-to-face with Annalisa, whose head was sticking through a small portal in the ceiling that belched forth the frigid welco of the plane of frost. She grinned at . Apparently, she’d put the last couple days to good effect.

“Just get down here!” I called over the chaos.

Her smile dimd sowhat. “I can’t get through it on my own yet.

“Then c-co down the old f-f-fashioned way,” I said through chattering teeth.

“Oh! Ok!” she said and pulled her head out. The portal shut with a snap of snowflakes and a gust of wind.

“Bloody devilborn nace,” said Miss Trundi, dusting a handful of flakes off the table behind . “She been doing it all weekend, scaring the custors.” She looked up at a john who had just walked in. “What’re you lookin’ at, boy?” she snapped.

I rolled my eyes. Right. Annalisa was the one scaring off custors.

The tromp of boots ca thumping down the stairs, and Annalisa erged, coming up and taking the stool next to . “You slept so long!” she said. “When I sleep in, I get all groggy. So, you must be miserable.”

“Can’t argue with that logic,” I said, guzzling down the bitter tea. Annalisa used her tail to slide over a stein and took a big pull. “So why can’t you get through your own portal?”

She belched. “Dunno. I think my soul is too big. It can’t fit. Which is weird, cause I think it’s squishy.” she wrinkled her nose. “Is a fat soul a thing? Should I lose so soul-weight?”

“There are certain degrees of spiritual weight but I don’t think—wait, squishy?” I asked, incredulous. Annalisa has so unique views, but that one more than most would have had my spiritual philosophy professor’s head spinning.

“Yeah!” She stood up and put her hands flat at shoulder height. “I tried going in feet-first and I got stuck around here.” She moved her hands down to her hips. “But when I go head first, I can only get to about here. I think my soul just kind of piles up in whatever part of the body is still on the first side, until it can’t squish down anymore. Don’t they teach you any of this at that school you went to?”

I stared at her, wide-eyed. “Annalisa. I can assure you, no school teaches any of this.”

She bead. “Well, I figured it out anyway. Maybe I ought to be a teacher.” She snapped her fingers. “I also figured out how to solve our problem!”

I ran a hand through my filthy hair, wincing at the feel. “Our problem? You’re going to have to be more specific,” I said. “But it’s got to wait until I’ve had a bath.” I whistled. “Ms Trundi?”