Chapter Thirteen

Schemes

Mayor Yeong sat with Chozen and Brom. Brom was the formerly dour own of the pub called the Dog’s Hair; he was now the ill-tempered owner of the pub. The trio was waiting on a fourth member of their private cabal to arrive, the man who really ran the town. They were not looking forward to his visit.

Chozen wriggled in his seat. It seemed he could not get comfortable for more than a scant number of seconds before he had to readjust himself. Not only was he unable to sit still, but the tell-tale sign of hives was starting to appear. His skin was red and blotchy, some of which were already starting to swell. Within the passing of one hour’s half, the man would be covered in great welts all over his body.

Yeong had seen him do this before, the last time it had taken him a month to get to the point of breaking out so badly that his head looked like a beehive had swarmed him. That had been at the start of it all. After Chozen had seen that they were going to get away with the murders he’d calmed down substantially. The man was nervous to start with, neurotic on his best day, and practically vibrated when things went pear-shaped. With the appearance of the mysterious Mr. Tooth, his condition accelerated.

Where had he come from? Who was he? What did he want? Those were things that he was going to be asked shortly, and he had no answers for any of them. Tooth was going around the town, stopping at various shops and stores and either buying everything available at one store in small quantities, or a handful of items at another. It was all random. The man had gotten the foulest alcohol from Brom’s establishment, went to the bookstore and gotten a small stack of tomes, and then headed to the blacksmith where he purchased different types of armor, a single nail, a horseshoe, and tools such as a hammer and saw. He’d even placed an order for an anvil with the solemn pledge that it would not be used to compete with Wayland the Smith in any way.

He’d hopped all over town and then went back and unloaded everything at the crevice. He’d just left it all out in the open and then left it there as he headed for the high end, i.e. cleaner, tavern of the town. As much as he would have liked to have seen the man go there to get drunk his spies had already informed him that Tooth had duplicated his order at the Dog’s Hair and asked for it to be delivered at the crevice by midday on the morrow. All the while his merchandise was left unattended and unsecured. It was as if he was not worried about the possibility of theft. It had never crossed his mind.

Nothing that man did make sense. He’d killed Rufus in a smattering of seconds and showed no sign of effort at having done so. The fact that he remained calm after and hadn’t made insane threats worried him most of all. People with no power, no strength had to inflate themselves by getting loud and spouting nonsense about ripping off necks and being creative where they performed their unsavory ablutions thereafter. Not Tooth. Something told Keong that the name hadn’t been meant as an intimidation tactic. He had almost sounded embarrassed by saying it out loud.

Nothing made sense. Nothing. Tooth hadn’t tried to blackmail him, nor had he threatened to go to the authorities. He’d acted as if he was fine with whatever it was they were doing and that they were welcome to continue doing whatever it was they were doing so long as they did it somewhere else. He wanted the crevice.

For nefarious purposes.

Why else would anyone want a crevice? It was why they wanted the crevice. Perhaps the old man was a necromancer and he had employed such dark magic to kill Rufus so quickly and easily. Keong had no idea.

What he did know was that in just a few minutes that door was going to open and they were going to be asked hard questions, and their answers weren’t going to be satisfactory. Thus, the mayor had been forced to take drastic steps and let Mister Tooth think that he was getting his way.

The mayor had ordered his people to soak Rufus’s body in a fast-acting poison that was absorbed by touch. The cadaver was then wrapped very carefully in resin-soaked cloth that was moisture proofed; this would allow his people to safely transport the body to the site that Tooth had demanded. Once Tooth opened the cloth strips to inspect the body he would come into contact with the poison and die a swift but agonizing death. Nine out of ten necromancers agreed that the half a minute that it took to die felt like half a day. The tenth was certain that it felt like it spanned a full twenty fours hours. As far as Keong was concerned he was happy with the death chill factor either way.

Keong glanced at Chozen and froze. The clerk had gone from having hives to being a hive. Every inch of his skin was red and swollen. His eyes were so puffy that they looked like lips, and his lips had inflated to the size of sausages. Chozen’s jaw was clenched so tightly that he could only breathe through his nose and even those small holes were rapidly vanishing as his face continued to inflate. Chozen whined like a puppy left alone in the wilderness.

Brom could no longer contain himself. He slammed a fist on the table. Keong was certain that he saw one of the man’s blackened teeth crumble into dust at the impact.

“That farkin’ bistich. Ain’t right what he done. Could’a broke my arm he could.”

“He grew a beard!” Chozen squeaked through swollen lips. “What kind of man grows a beard?”

“Any man can grow a beard, ya daft farker,” Brom replied. “I has a beard of mine own. It’s on my face plain as day. Grew a beard, he says. Daft Bistich.”

“He grew a beard in the interval it took me to take cover and him to kill Rufus. It was maybe a minute’s worth of time.” Keong said plainly.

“Really?” The voice had come from directly behind Keong, and he could feel the hands of their leader rest on the back of his chair. “Please, tell me more about this Mister Tooth. My interest is piqued.”