Chapter One Hundred and Twenty - Into the Scumways

With breakfast done, we all sat around the table--or flopped onto the ground--and basked in the glory of having full tummies and good friends around us. I had Orange sprawled out across my lap where I was absently rubbing her behind the ears while staring at the last bit of food on my plate.

The ‘should I, I shouldn’t’ playing in the back of my mind was pleasant.

But, as with all things, it couldn’t last.

“We should get going sometime soon,” I said with a sigh.

Booksie patted her tummy where she had a food baby. “Oh? Are we all going?”

“Hmm,” I hmmed. “I don’t know. Maybe just a few of us.”

“What are you even planning on doing?” she asked. “I don’t think the Morepoles will listen to your pleas. No offence.”

“Yeah, I know. But if we don’t at least try to talk things out first then I’d feel bad. Everyone deserves a chance before other options are taken.”

“Other options,” Amaryllis repeated. “Like killing them?”

“What? No!” I said. “I mean like talking to the police. Maybe... I don’t know, suing them.”

“We could eat them,” Cholondee suggested.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” I said.

The dragoness nodded. “You’re probably right,” she said.

“I am? I mean. Yes. of course.” I was expecting to have to make up some quick excuses to stop her from eating the locals. Being friends with dragons was totally awesome, but they had a few habits that I found rather distasteful and hard to accept. I wasn’t sure if that was me being discriminatory, or if it was okay to accept that a friend had the habit of eating people.

“Yeah,” she continued. “The grenoil taste all stringy and wet.”

I slumped into my seat. “A-anyway, I think the best thing to do would be to go over to wherever these Morepole people are and talk to their boss. Give them a nice friendly warning and maybe talk things out. And if that doesn’t work then we’ll figure things out from there.”

“Awa, that, that sounds like a nice plan,” Awen said. “Um. Maybe we can put pressure on them some other ways if it doesn’t work. My mom and dad were good at that kind of thing. They taught me how to do a bit of that. I was never very good at it, but with Broccoli, I’m sure we could figure it out.”

Amaryllis sighed and plucked the last bit of bread off my plate. “Might as well,” she said as she chewed.

“Right! So now we just need to decide who goes, and who stays up here,” I said. “I think that maybe Booksie should stay out of it. Just in case.”

The bun shrugged. “I don’t mind. The Scumways aren’t exactly my idea of a fun time. And I could go see if my shop still stands.” She turned to Rhawrexdee and smiled up at him. “Would you like to accompany me? We could see if any of the books I talked about are still there.”

“I suppose I could go with you,” Rhawrexdee said with some ambivalence. His tail shifting behind him gave up the lie.

“I’m going with your group then. The less time I spend with that blue lump the better,” Cholondee said.

I looked to Awen and Amaryllis, but Awen just seemed lost and Amaryllis was toying with her ring and not paying attention. “Well okay then!”

There was some shuffling about as we got to our feet with all the energy of a group of retirees on a warm afternoon. The tab was settled with the nice grenoil lady, Orange was set on the ground and the table and chairs were dragged back into the restaurant.

“I’d give goodbye hugs, but we should be seeing each other again in a bit,” I said.

Booksie grinned. “I wouldn’t say no to a hug anyway,” she said.

I laughed as she squeezed the stuffing out of me. “We’ll see you soon!” I said.

Booksie waved us off before turning to Rhawrexdee.

I led the rest of my friends deeper into the city and past the first line of guards who scrambled out of my path. “So,” I said a little bit later. “Where are the Morepoles anyway?”

“You’re the one leading us and you don’t know?” Amaryllis asked.

“I was only in Port Royal twice before, and never for much more than a day,” I said.

“Then why are you the one we’re following?” Amaryllis asked. “You moron. I thought you knew where you were going.”

I smiled sheepishly back at her, then pointed to the ground ahead of us where Orange was walking, tail high and posture as proud as could be. “Actually, Orange was ahead.”

Amaryllis whapped my side with a wing. “Don’t be pedantic. We can ask for directions. Someone around here must know where these Morepoles are based.” She turned narrow eyes onto one of the younger guards who hadn’t quite scrambled far enough away and then stomped over to him with a click-clack of her talons on the cobbles. “You. Tell me where the Scumways are.”

“Please,” I added.

“Ah, zey are not a very nice place, miss,” he said.

“We have a dragon,” Amaryllis said.

“Ah. Yes. Well. Um.” He swallowed as Cholondee and Awen came closer too. Though I don’t think Awen really scared him that much. “Zey’re zat way,” he said as he pointed more or less towards the docks. “West end of ze city, near ze docks.”

“Now we know where we’re going,” Amaryllis said with smugness that I thought was entirely undeserved. Still, she’d gotten some results.

“Whelp, let’s go then,” I said.

The Scumways, as it turned out, were a bit of a dump.

The area was tucked behind a wall dotted with tenement buildings. It was in a natural hollow along the side of the mountain holding Port Royal. The docks were just a bit to the south, with airships passing ahead in a hurry.

A gate blocked off the area, just like the one in the East side of town, though this one wasn’t guarded as much and the road, missing cobbles and all, was a whole lot dirtier, with trash piled up along corners and the little half-pipe gutters along the sidewalks jammed up by old newspapers and refuse.

The colourful little street vendors I’d seen just about everywhere in Port Royal were missing. In their stead were groups of young grenoil, often in tattered clothes with knives at their hips.

They might have been scary, but we had a Cholondee with us, and one hungry look from her had them scurrying away.

Passing the gates was easy for most of us, but Cholondee said some very rude words in what I think might have been her native tongue as she sucked in her tummy and shuffled through the gate at an angle.

As it turns out, Dragons are like cats. If their head fits, so will the rest of them. Mostly because if the rest doesn’t fit, they’ll make it fit.

“So, where do we start?” Cholondee asked as she shook off some masonry.

I looked around the little area past the gate. The homes in Port Royal have all been nice and sturdy. Wooden walls over stone foundations, with obvious signs that some magic trickery had been used to sculpt things.

The homes in the Scumways were entirely different. Ramshackle buildings of wood and rusty steel. Streaks of rust and dirt from the mountainous overhang streaked the walls and even from where I stood I could make out big mushrooms growing out of humid corners.

The constant rattle from copper pipes was present here too, but the pipes themselves were in a bad way. One of them had a crack in it and every few seconds, like clockwork, a spurt of brackish water would spritz out of it. The smell gave no doubt as to why the water was brown.

Orange took one look at the place and started walking up into the air until she hovered half a dozen feet up.

“So, if I were a gang of do-badders, where would I hide?” I wondered aloud as I surveyed the area. I could see why a gang might form in a place like this. The people living here, just one wall away from the much cleaner and nicer parts of the city, must have been filled with resentment, especially if it was hard to move out of the area.

I could imagine someone promising a young grenoil some money if they just did as they asked, pretending to be their friend while dangling opportunities before them. Someone desperate enough would take the bait.

I scrunched my nose at the thought.

“We could ask one of the locals,” Amaryllis said. “If any of them were around.”

The square was nearly empty except for one older grenoil leaning against a far wall, mouth wide open and bottle of booze next to his snoring form.

“I’ll go find someone,” I said.

I stepped away from my friends, then heard Awen jogging to catch up to me. “Awa, you’re going off on your own?” she asked.

I smiled over my shoulder. “You can come, of course.”

“Thank you!” she said. “So, um, we’re looking for people?”

I nodded. “That’s the idea. Just someone who might know where these Morepoles are staying.”

The next street over had a few shops and such, mostly decrepit little stores with barred windows and big stocky grenoil standing before them. I counted three apothecaries and two pawn shops out of the ten or so stores lining the street. There were some people here, mostly grenoil but some humans and a few harpy too. They all looked like they could use a bath.

I flicked off the reins holding back my Rank A Cleaning magic and breathed a little easier as the air around me became suffused with my mana. The skill was doing most of the work controlling the magic while I focused on other things.

“Awa, thank you,” Awen said. “You, um, smell much nicer than this place.” she was eyeing everything suspiciously, her crossbow no longer strapped over her back but hugged up against her chest.

“You’re welcome,” I said.

The magic was doing a number to the street underfoot, so I decided to move along. Now, if I was a bad, bad person and someone wanted to talk to me, where would I be?

“That alleyway looks nice and dangerous,” I said as I pointed to a dark tunnel between two buildings.

“Awa, we’re not going there, right?” Awen asked.

“Of course! We’re two innocent girls, that’s the perfect place to find a bad guy who might know things.”

Awen followed, eyes darting this way and that, into the dark and stinky alley way. Even my magic couldn’t stop the smell of dung from wafting over to me as I moved into the shadows. I paused to pull my shovel out from where I’d stuffed it between my back and pack.

“I should really learn some light magic to use as a torch of sorts,” I said as I moved deeper into the alley. It was quite dark, the sunlight not quite able to make it to the bottom.

“I can show you some lights,” a gruff voice said from up ahead.

A grenoil man appeared, covered in rags and looking like he’d just come out of a brawl. He had a big knife in one hand and was smiling wide when he saw us. “Insight,” I muttered.

A Grenoil Scumrunner, level 10

Same level as my main class. “Hello sir,” I said. “Sorry to be a bother, but I was hoping to ask for directions.”

“How ‘bout ya give me your purse and we’ll see,” he said.

“I could give you a few cop, I guess,” I said. “We just have a couple of questions.”

“How about you give me all of your cops. Zen I’ll answer all of your questions.”

“Eh... no.” I shook my head. “That’s not how I want this to go down, mister.”

The grenoil blinked and looked at his knife as if to make sure it was there. “What? No, give me all your coin!”

“I said no,” I said. I did reach into a pocket of my bandoleer and removed a pair of copper coins. “I’ll give you these if you tell me where I can find the Morepoles.”

“I’m not asking ya, I’m telling ya to give me all ze coin ya have,” he said.

I sighed. “Mister, I’m not going to let you mug me. If you don’t want to help that’s fine. Could you point me to another mugger?”

The grenoil man stared for a long moment. “Are you mad?” he asked.

“No, I’m pretty sure I’m sane. I just need to find the Morepoles, and soon. We have two impatient dragons to distract so if we take too long it might be trouble.”

“I’ll stab ya?” he tried.

I shook my head again. “I mean, you could try. But then we’d be having a very different sort of conversation.” I pulled out a silver coin. “Two cop, one sil for the info?” I smiled big and bright. “Please?”