Chapter 133

What if I Told You that Barnacle-eyes Helped?

Brewer’s Reputation: 7,519.

Dream Cutter Stone Shard Quest: 10,105/15,000 shards.

Bellies full, Abigail and I ambled down the path toward the sea. We stopped when we got to the hill where the giant sumac grew. Their leaves were coming in. It was late morning and we sat to share the rest of the wheat gush ale. We spoke of giant fireflies and wondered if we could fill an ethereal plane with them.

We abandoned the topic at hand when a massive ship came sailing through the Mist Hidden wall. A newcomer? Was Barnacle-eyes inviting someone else in? Abigail and I looked at each other as though the other had answers. When the ship sailed all the way through, I recognized the raised beds. The small forms aboard were Barnacle-eyes and Thrush.

“She did it,” I said. “It’s massive!”

“I’m so proud of her. Look how much room she's got now for raised beds.”

“Looks like we’ll be moving dirt again. And building more raised beds. Her ship will soon overflow with onion and garlic.”

“I think it's wonderful. I’ll see about brewing some sheltering beers to protect them. I fear one hard storm would drag all our work out to sea.”

“I’d love to help, if you’ll have me.”

“I’ll let you know.”

The ketch sailed on in. Sumac leaves rustled. Wind landed beside us.

“Thank you for everything,” I said. “You’ve been the best mentor I could have ever asked for.”

“I am a higher rank than you, but you're so close—what I mean to say is that we’re peers; we’re equal.”

“That’s how I’ve always seen it.”

“Besides,” she said. “I’ll have to thank you soon enough. I’ll be calling on Potere soon. My favor for him is coming to an end.”

Foam hushed from our mugs. The sun stepped higher. I leaned against a tree.

“In that case, I’d like to give you something,” I said.

“I could go for a beer.”

“It is a beer.”

But it was more than a beer. It was something that I’d been working on for months now. Something I had planned on giving Abigail the day she left. It was an ethereal beer that led to a plane where only myself and Barnacle-eyes had gone to. The one with rows of ethereal landmark ales trapped inside barrels waiting to be spilled. The plane with tunnels of cosmos flowers and poppies and the snaking limbs of an apple tree bearing fruit. Tunnels that held hidden barrels of even more landmark ales so that Abigail could discover them every once in a while and turn them on their sides to see what landmarks spilled out.

Everytime that I visited that plane, I expanded the hills of flowering goldenrods, of purple asters, of daisies; of innumerable flowers. I expanded the rolling hills with 10s of thousands of ethereal soil landmark ales. That spread of land still waited to receive sowing. All save a small plot where garlic and onion sprouted from.

I’d even stacked ethereal forged barrels which contained clones of the master beer to that plane. I’d cloned enough copies that if Abigail were to live for a thousand years, she’d never lose access to the plane.

I withdrew Gift #1 from my inventory, and handed the master copy to Abigail.

“Still creative with your names,” she said.

“It’s a Greater Planes Cutter beer.”

“Where will this one take me?”

“That’s the master beer.”

“Don’t give me the master beer. I don’t want to be responsible if I lose it. You keep these on Beyond the Cabin. I think that’s the safest place.”

“But it’s yours now.”

“What?”

“I’ve been working on it for some time. I designed it with you in mind. It’s yours. My gift to you. You own it now.”

She put a hand to her heart. “Hawkin, you can’t give me an entire plane.”

“I just gave it to you.”

“I can’t accept this.”

“Why not?”

“I can’t own a plane!”

“What? Why not?”

“Other people deserve something like this more than me.”

She turned the beer in her hands. Her hair fell when her head shook.

But I thought she was deserving.

“Why don’t you deserve your own plane?” I said.

“Hawkin, I’m a gold rank Brewer. Next to diamond and Fable rank adventurers, I’m nobody. This belongs to someone who knows what to do with a plane.”

“Where is this coming from?”

Abigail rose to her feet. She glanced back the way we came. I felt that she wanted to leave.

“Abigail-”

“-I’m sorry Hawkin, I can’t accept this.”

“Why not?”

“Because-”

“-because what?”

The ketch banged against the dock. The wind scattered last year's leaves. Abigail finally spoke.

“I don’t deserve a gift like this.”

“Says who?”

“Says-”

“-who made you feel this way? Who made you feel like you don’t deserve things?”

She put a hand to her heart and looked away.

“The man on the pier?” I continued.

Abigail shook her head, not in denial, but perhaps to sayed composed.

“That man was an idiot,” I said. “If I were him…” What could I say? How to tell her? I approached with the truth. “…listen, Abigail. As your friend, I can honestly say you deserve the world. This beer is from me to you. I want you to have it. I’ve designed it with you in mind. Would you accept it if I told you that Barnacle-eyes helped me with it? That she would also want you to have it?”

“She did?”

“I confided in her about this project. She wanted to help. She planted garlic and onion on the plane. Just in case you ever got hungry.”

“She did?”

“It’s a gift from both of us. Will you accept our gift?”

Abigail was still in her thoughts, but at least the beginning of a smile was forming. She tucked hair behind her ear. Her smile widened until laughter could flow from her.

“Well if Barnacle-eyes thinks I deserve it…”

“That’s the spirit!” I said.

“Will you give me the tour?”

“I’d be honored.”

Abigail brought out two tankards from her inventory.