The Pale Locksmith

CHAPTER 17: THE INTUITION OF A MAN

"Rance!"

"Sorry, am I doing it again?"

Jarud nodded, and Rance looked suitably repentant. Rance had spent most of the morning trying not to drum his fingers on the table. And stopping his feet from tapping. And from wandering around the room. Rance was not usually the fidgety type of man, but then there was something on his mind. He had come to the realisation that something terrible may be lurking within Cilia Town. Something that would shock every corner of the land. There he went again – letting his imagination run away with him as it had all night. Although if he was right... But for now it would remain his secret, and his alone. He had revealed nothing to no one, not even Jarud.

The seed for the idea had been planted within the mind of Rance entirely by accident the previous day when he had joined them in getting food after work; an event that happened semi-regularly. The agenda for these evenings varied little: Often it started with them being bored, and deciding there and then to go out. First stop was usually somewhere to drink alcohol cheaply. Then they would find somewhere to eat food cheaply. Clouter, as if to remind the others of his manliness, would request the biggest dish on the menu as heavily seasoned as the cook could make it, then eat it without flinching. This was a feat more annoying than impressive, particularly for the two men who would share a latrine with him the next day. Rance and Neriat actually went through the options and discussed choices. Occasionally they would split dishes. Nobody shared with Jarud, as no one ever liked the sound of whatever he chose. That evening, his meal appeared to be a grey stew with lumps of meat and bone floating in it.

Through the wait for their food, the quartet had discussed anything interesting they could think of. Then the conversation had moved on to the topic which inflicted every meal between those who had every shared employment – the topic of work. This had stopped when the food arrived; when eating one rarely likes to talk about dead bodies. As they ate, they had watched the decorations for Queen's Day being arranged on the street outside. Rance had lost track how many weeks after the summer solstice it was. He had made a mental note to buy Mullia and Adiniah presents, in commemoration of Queen Bashe bringing peace to the island through bloodshed and conquest. Nothing celebrated unification like buying gifts for one gender and not the other.

The idle discussion had started up again, this time around the stories that surrounded that ruler of lore. It had simmered down to a rather ridiculous comparison between the mythical creatures of the Islands. They had all agreed that being married to someone as lovely as an Antalla Fairy would undoubtedly have its good points, even if you had to stay on her good side lest you would be changed to something foul. They had also all agreed on the fact that if they were to ever come across a real live Bloodbane, they would be able to deal with them with ease. Ugly, weak creatures that they are, nothing to be afraid of.

Having the powers of a Fairy could also come in useful, much more useful than a thirst for blood. It would be fantastic to vanquish one's enemies by turning them into a lowly maggot or somesuch, rather than to try to do so by biting them. Especially if they sweated as much as Clouter did after a peppery meal. Plus, at least a Fairy looked normal – beautiful even, whereas a Bloodbane stood out through their hideousness and their terrifying white eyes. All in all, being an Antalla Fairy would be quite fun, while the alternative just seemed like a lot of hard work. With the debate settled conclusively, more alcohol had been ordered in celebration.

As they had waited, Jarud had begun rambling about how the Queen could have got away with her supposed devilry for so long. If she had used magic, that would have been easy. Simply transform your enemies into something else, then carry on with life as usual. If she had been a Bloodbane, that was a different story. She would have had to have been extra secretive when the full moon was approaching. Maybe arrange for a prisoner to be brought to her chambers, or something. She was also fortunate to have been born at a time where her status as a ruler, as well as the capaciousness of her treasury, would have meant she was able to get away with pretty much anything. Although that had hardly changed for the currently wealthy. Fortunately, Jarud had then gotten distracted by a snow-white bosom bouncing close by, meaning the three of them were spared his wailing about the ills of modern society, and the disparity between the treatment of the rich and the un-rich.