In Search Of The Goddess

Log Eleven

We travel back to across the river with the empty painting and the twin brother.

We have a plan.

I don't like it. Not at all.

Our plan is too blackmail the wealthy man who commissioned us. He locked his twin brother in a painting to absorb his inheritance. So I guess he can afford it. 

So we tell him we know about his brother, get a lot more money, and leave them to figure out their mess. 

I don't like it. 

When we get to the door, we start the shake down.

The Goddess would most definitely frown on this.

Would she frown on me? With all I've been doing lately? Particularly the last twenty four hours?

I put it out of my mind to focus on later. 

The misfortunate twin comes out of nowhere, shoves through us on the doorstep, and punches his brother in the face. 

They get into an unholy squabble and we quickly back away. 

We just take the empty frame and go. This is no place for children and decent folk. 

I didn't like this plan anyway.

We get back to the house and go about our own chores again. Javior locks herself in the lab and fiddles around with alchemy. 

Nik leaves to go visit his sisters. He says he'll return with more money for the orphans. But he looks distracted and excited. There must be more to what he's doing. Maybe he genuinely enjoys being a thief? I'm not certain.

I lead Elizabeth in prayer the next morning. Even though she's humming a tuneless song to herself the whole time and making faces to herself the entire time.

I hold back a laugh.

Goofy child.

I think chickens would be good for the children. They could help raise them. And they could provide eggs. And meat when the time comes. I take Elizabeth with me and venture out to the neighboring farm. They are making us mattresses from the feathers of the giant birds we downed a week or so ago.

"Hello."

"G'morning, fair Orc. Have you come to check on your mattresses?"

"Yes. And I'd like to see about purchasing chickens from you."

"Sure. If you want chickens, you'll want at least six at minimum. They don't do so well in few numbers."

"Excellent. I'll take eight to start with."

He leaves Elizabeth and I to go into a small barn. Elizabeth chases a small gray cat around the yard. I notice some little sprouts of green poking through the cold slush.

"Many pardons, sir, but could you offer some assistance here," a loud voice calls out. I turn around curiously. Do they mean me?

"Hello," I say evenly. 

"My apologies, ma'am!"

"It doesn't matter to me what you call me," I say. 

"I'm here with a shipment for this house. But my camel had fallen ill! I was wondering if there was another one to borrow so that I can finish my rounds?"

"I'm not sure. The farmer is in the barn but he should be out soon."

"Hello Byron," farmer is a few yards behind me, holding a crate of fuzzy yellow chicks. I immediately want to hold one. 

At the monastery, we were vegetarian, mostly by necessity. Occasionally we had venison or beef if a visitor brought it. I've never seen infant chickens. I never imagined them being so small. And fuzzy. And I didn't know they'd make such precious little peep-peeps.

"Unfortunately, I have no camel," the farmer says, jolting my attention back to reality and away from the balls of yellow fluff falling over each other in the crate. 

I look at his cart. The camel hitched to it is drooped over, it's head hanging low. The cart is small and half empty. It doesn't look too troublesome. 

"I can pull it," I say suddenly, cutting through their mournful conversation. Byron looks at me strangely. Then his face brightens.

"My good lady-sir? ...I," he stumbles over his words.

"Either one," I say waving my hand. 

"My fine fellow friend," he says brightly, "That would be most generous of you!"

"Great," I say, I turn to the farmer, "Please hold my chickens for me. I'll be back for them later today. Thank you."

We unhitch the camel and take it to a different, larger barn where a shaggy cow sniffs it curiously. 

"Cornelius won't bother him," the farmer says. 

"Wonderful. I'll see you later." I nod to the farmer. I get into between the poles of the cart and pick them up. Not too bad so far. It gives a small lurch and I twist around to see what caused it. Elizabeth is sitting on top of the shipments, grinning widely, showing off her chipped back tooth. 

I pull the cart around and I feel a bit like an ox. Or maybe just a beast. The master of one of the farms is a tall, broad woman with sparking blue eyes and she stares at me too long. I'm a bit embarrassed of the position I'm in. Not only an Orc but in an undignified position. This must be the first time most of these people have even seen an Orc. And to give this kind of impression...

Maybe they'll just think we're a helpful kind. And not servile...

The shipments end closer to the town square. Byron thanks me graciously and gives me a small purse of 68 coins. I tell Elizabeth we're going back to the wealthy house from yesterday. I want to make amends for everything that happened. 

When we get to the right street, it takes me a moment to find the right house. Once I finally locate it, my breath catches in my throat. People are carrying furniture and boxes out if it and it is dark inside.

This can't be the right house...?