Day 23 - The Adept and the Fighter

  Reader had a corner in the mud house where Tiller had formed a workbench out of compacted earth. It was here that Reader could work when it rained outside, as it did in that moment.

  Tiller had sealed the spaces in the log roof with clay. It was a good job for one without an appropriate sigil, but given that shortcoming it was understandably imperfect. Most of the hammering rain flowed as designed down the sloped roof, to cascade in rivulets across the ground, churning the earth to soupy mud. Reader had thoughts of gutters and soak pits and culverts, but these were vague future plans.

  Some water managed to drop through the gaps. It was dry enough, and certainly better than being unsheltered, but the thought of living in this world for what might be months or even years urged Reader to imagine a finer construction. Something made of wood or stone or brick, with a roof of overlapping shingles. Maybe something with a fireplace.

  Reader was hunched over his desk, Grim lounging unhappily on Reader’s bed of blankets. The anthropomorphised tome was especially glum-looking, casting unhappy glances at Reader’s back. Reader was working on his secret project, sketching weaves on a page borrowed from Tiller’s notebook. At intervals his eyes would glow, the same shine appearing in Grim’s visage, as he probed their shared library of knowledge.

  Then a voice boomed through the door. “That shitty little control freak! Are you telling me you’re in on this?”

  Reader turned to see a sodden Cutter lurching in through the door. His hair was plastered to his head, his clothes drenched. Behind him Lita hovered in. The stone robot’s digital eyes were shaped into nervous slits.

  Grim said nothing.

  Reader turned from the bench, “Oh… hi Cutter… you’ve spoken to Tiller then?”

  Cutter peeled off his leather armor and shirt, casting the wet clothes aside. Reader had a moment to envy the body that had been given to Cutter. Reader was slight and weedy. Cutter looked like John Cena in his heyday.

  Cutter paused long enough to comment on the narration, “didn’t think you’d be shallow enough to care about the body you got.”

  Reader huffed quietly, “I could be an adept with a six-pack. There’s no reason a scholar can’t have muscles too.”

  Cutter pointed at him, “Enough about that. What the hell did you agree to?”

  Reader slumped slightly, “you’re talking about the salary.”

  Cutter growled, “I’m gone for a couple of days and he manages to twist you round just like that? I swear to god, Reader, we decided we’d take salaries. Tiller might be the ticket out of here, and he might be one of us, but that son of a bitch has issues. Obsession issues. Control issues. You can’t let him talk you round like this.”

  Reader held up his hands, waving them in a slow down gesture. “Hang on a second Cutter. It’s not that simple. Did he tell you about the ogres trying to dig up Bonk’s… G-r-a-v-e…?”

  Cutter said, “Yeah? So what? He also told me Norris scared them the fuck off. If they’re scared of Norris out in the open like that, then they can be double scared of me and Stone Robot. What’s the problem?”

  Reader said, “Well, for one, we can’t afford for you to go off on your business. If they come back, and it’s pretty obvious they are definitely going to come back, we need you here. If you’re here then you can’t be out there earning, it means we need to wait a couple days for the harvest. When the harvest comes in and gets sold, if we don’t take our salaries out of it, we’ll have enough money for the composter and then we can get rid of… you know what… then we can get back to the arrangement we made.”

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  Cutter said, “Christ, Reader, it’s a gateway. He’s getting a wedge in.”

  Reader shook his head, “No. He promised it was temporary. Besides, if you’re stuck here you can’t be in Medley spending any money anyway.

  Cutter planted his hands on his hips, “It’s the principle of the thing though! We voted.”

  Reader looked sheepish, “Yeah… well… we voted again.”

  Cutter snapped, “You can’t vote without me.”

  Reader wouldn’t meet his gaze. “Fine, then we can get together and vote, but listen, just for this little while, I’m with Tiller.”

  Cutter’s eyes blazed.

  Reader didn’t meet his gaze, but he didn’t stand down. “Now, look, Cutter, you played this game when it went your way. When I agreed to the salaries you were happy. I’m not nixing the salaries, I’m just saying we need to take a tiny break from them because this thing with the ogres… god, it’s dangerous. We need to get this thing put away. Besides, the composter will accelerate everything.”

  Cutter said, “He doesn’t want the salaries, this is a way to get—”

  Reader spoke over him. “I’ll vote with you for the salaries again when it’s done. You’ve got my word. He’s playing by the rules, you’re playing by the rules. A vote is a vote. The pause on the salaries is a temporary measure, he said so himself. I really don’t think he’ll try to go back on it, but if he does I’ll vote it down with you anyway. Okay?”

  Cutter said, “I still don’t like it.” but he seemed mollified. He glanced at the gloomy-looking tomegeist, “What are you look so put out about?”

  Grim muttered, “Fudge you, you sugar-faced picnic!”

  Cutter froze. An eyebrow crawled slowly up his brow as he leaned forward, peering at the tomegeist. “What was that?”

  Grim’s face contorted in rage. He stomped his foot and spluttered, “Fuuuh… Fuuuuuh…” his little body trembled and he stamped a weedy little foot on the packed earth. “FUUUUHHH… FUDGE YOU! FUDGE THIS! THIS IS A HEAP OF SUGARY DOG SUGAR!”

  Cutter’s eyes snapped to Reader who stood smiling sheepishly. Cutter guffawed, “What did you do to him?”

  Reader shrugged, demure. “I… I had a fiddle with his rules. It’s tricky. I can barely read them, let alone write them. They go in order, from top to bottom, and every rule that’s higher up completely overrides one at the bottom. I wanted to do something about the swearing but I was afraid that if I put a rule in too high I might upset the balance, and I can’t read all of them yet. So I put together a crude instruction and tack it to the bottom. ‘All nasty words are nice instead.’ It took me hours. But I reckon I can get him to behave better all over with a bit more time. I just need to understand it better. My only fear is, putting the new rule at the bottom will let him figure out a way around it somehow, using the rules above it.”

  Grim snarled, “Lamb right I’ll figure a fudging way round this. This is sugar is what this fudging well is. I sound like a fudging school-marm.”

  Cutter grinned. “Well, I don’t know about that, but this sure as hell is funny.”

  Grim turned around and sat down hard, grumbling away under his breath.

  Cutter said, “Hey, Reader, you’re figuring things out! You were a good horse to bet on. At this rate of going we’ll have hover carts and running water before we know it.”

  Reader shrugged meekly. “Well, I don’t know about the before we know it part, but I’m definitely getting places. I kind of feel bad. He loves cursing. I just couldn’t take any more of it.”

  Cutter peered past him at the paper on the bench, “What you got going on there?”

  Reader said, “Just a side project I’ve been working on…”

  “Never seen you scribble those weaves out before… you normally just start waving the glow stick around to make magic happen. What gives here?”

  Reader said, “Well… this one’s complicated. The most complicated one I’ve ever thought about, let alone attempted. I don’t understand the weaves very well yet, and they’re messy and powerful. I’m afraid that if I do the wrong thing… well, let’s just say I’m concerned about an accident.”

  Cutter chuckled, “Working on a weapon then? Something to end the Ogre-Hooman feud?”

  Reader shook his head. “No. Nothing like that. I am working on offensive weaves too, but that’s not what this is. This weave kinda sorta pokes into the fabric of, well, reality. That’s why I’m afraid of it. I don’t want to accidentally do something crazy like make a black hole or set off a nuclear reaction by fusing atoms together or something dumb like that.”

  Cutter arched a brow again, glancing from the page to Reader and back again. He didn’t seem that put off by the possibility of catastrophe. “Well then, what’s the point in it? What would get a cautious little guy like you to go messing with things so vast and terrible?”

  Reader grinned sheepishly. “I… Well… It’s a combined weave, that if done correctly, and if combined correctly… might let us contact home.”

  Cutter said, “Like walkie talkies when I’m out and about?”

  Reader shook his head, “No. Though that is a great idea. No. I mean this might let us contact our families.”