Chapter 8

Chapter 8

THE MORNING BROUGHT the scent of breakfast, hope for opportunity, and the slightest sensation of a hangover, all good signs for things to come. Rory’s party dined and packed up the mule—the fact that the animal had not been stolen in the night was also taken as a very good omen—for a trip to what would hopefully be a successful business meeting. In an attempt to get reacquainted with the finer points of Rande Bahn, Rory spoke briefly to Chuck about the town’s general geography, and upon adjusting his bearings, led his party downtown to the Westbury Playhouse.

Culture was nowhere to be found in a town that prided itself on being devoid of class, rules, or morals, and the playhouse was not a place one ventured to for a night of classic theatre. It was run by Herrick Labruce, a former accountant fallen from nobility to become a loan shark to clientele that would likely be found gracing the grand ballrooms of King Robert’s court. The man had a fortune if he had a bobby, and this made him the most likely candidate for business with Rory. Finding the Westbury Playhouse would be easy; gaining audience would be the difficult part.

“What exactly are you planning on saying to Labruce when you see him, Rory?” Bozius asked. “Well, hello, sir, we stole this thirty-pound stupid baby from the Grey Callus, how much are you willing to pay for it? I just don’t see that approach working.”

“Neither do I, Bozy,” Rory agreed. “But he is our best shot. This Golden Baby could be his shot back into Bobby’s court!”

“What makes you think he wants back in?” Bozius countered. “The man has success, fame, security—I heard he’s Circle!”

“The Circle doesn’t really seem all that bad,” Rafule chimed in.

“Just ‘cause the one run in you hand with the Circle involved that blubbering little girl doesn’t mean they ain’t dangerous,” Bozius warned. “I’m serious, Rory, you gotta have a plan!”

Bozius was right. Rory had not actually thought this out beyond getting to Ronde Bahn and seeking out a buyer. What was he going to say? He usually had a buyer in mind when he snatched something, but this whole Golden Baby heist sort of fell into his lap. If he and Bozius took the other split from the fork in the forest, they would never have stumbled upon Rafule, and this situation would never have been theirs to deal with.

Rory could not help but smile. “It’s fate, Bozy!”

“What?” Bozius snapped.

“It’s meant to be,” Rory explained. “We were intended to sell this baby to Herrick Labruce.”

“Are you insane?”

“Not in the least, my muscle-bound friend. The tides of fortune have pushed us in this direction, our sails filled with the winds of destiny!”

“Oh no,” Bozius lamented, face in hand. “Not another pirate analogy…”

“The currents of our lives have ebbed and flowed to culminate in this one epic destination: we entered this ravaging storm of fortune not of our own will but pulled by something greater, to stand on the bow as the sun breaks through the clouds, to lead us to our most triumphant victory!”

“Great, great!” Bozius cut in. “I’m glad that we have the winds of fortune and undertow of destiny to sell the Baby for us. I thought your plan might be ridiculous. Glad you thought this one through!”

“I’m actually kind of inspired…” Rafule admitted, awestruck by Rory’s monologue.

“Shut up,” Bozius squinted at him.

Before long they had arrived at the Westbury Playhouse, a large and rather old building in the center of downtown Rande Bahn. It was easily two stories if not three, with large pillars supporting a marquee above the veranda, which stood atop a five-step half-moon marble stairway. Large windows near equal in height to the face of the theatre let light into the front hall, displaying the beautiful architecture within. Such a sight of majesty in an otherwise gloomy alcove of despair nearly brought a tear to Rory’s eye, which he pretended was an itch for the sake of wiping it away.

Bozius grabbed his arm before Rory could climb the first step. “Really though, you got something better than tides of fortune, right?”

Rory simply smiled confidently at his friend. “It’s destiny, Bozy.”

Bozius sighed but released his friend’s arm. The trio walked up the steps and into the Westbury Playhouse, donkey and all. The front hall featured a checked marble floor, with subdued red and brown stucco walls that created a very comfortable contrast with the reflective floor. Two stairways complete with swirling wooden railings wound around the outer edges of the grand room and rung up to meet above the entryways into the theatre itself. Before these doors were rooms off to either side, both on the first floor and mezzanine level upstairs as well. Rory actually found it a shame that something so magnificent would never be used for its original purpose; it was really quite shameful in his eyes, and he had rarely himself ever been to a play. When I’m filthy rich, he allowed his fantasies to drift for a moment.

“May I help you?”

A striking woman stepped out from one of the rooms upstairs. This beautiful bespectacled brunette was bedecked in a soft red dress that almost appeared to grow forth from the very walls of the theatre itself. Though the dress was obviously tailored to match the woman’s curves, she accompanied it with a loose-fitting brown coat that came down to a point just below her waist, hiding her form that Rory could only imagine was every bit as luscious as his wandering mind hoped it could be.

“Yes, my dear,” Rory called back. “We have come to see Lord Herrick Labruce.”

The woman eyed Rory for a long moment, considering him for some time. “Come up.” With that she vanished into the room from which she came. “Leave the donkey.”

The trio, all bespelled by this mysterious woman, did as she said and made their way up to the mezzanine. Entering the room, they found her sitting behind the desk of an office. There were two bookshelves, a couch, and some chairs, with a door behind her that must lead to Labruce’s office.

“I am Charlotte, his…” again she considered Rory for a lingering moment. “Secretary. What can I do for you gentlemen?”

“We have a business proposition for your employer,” Rory replied.

“That won’t do, Lord Labruce is a very busy man,” Charlotte commanded them with her soft-toned but strong voice. “Tell me about this business of yours?”

“We have had come into our possession a certain item that we feel Lord Labruce would be quite interested in.”

“And you want to sell it?”

“Pardon me?” Rory was taken aback.

“Don’t play aloof with me, Mister…”

“Casbury,” Rory replied.

“Casbury?” Charlotte asked. “Roderick Casbury?” It was as if she were tasting the words, trying his name on for size.

“In the flesh,” Rory nearly blushed.

“I see that…” Charlotte paused again, taking him in with her spellbinding eyes. “Well, I suspect you have come here to sell this item to Lord Labruce?”

“Yes, Charlotte,” Rory admitted. “You have deduced our motives.”

“I knew your intentions the moment you can strolling into our theatre,” Charlotte stopped abruptly, though this pause felt… different. “What are you asking for?”

“It’s negotiable.”

“I don’t care,” Charlotte was tough indeed. “How much?”

“I was thinking…” Rory had to be careful not to leave his opening price as a question. Without confidence, this battle was over before it began. “A hundred.”

Charlotte pierced him with those big, gorgeous hazel eyes, framed so elegantly behind her wire-framed spectacles. She paused, and Rory felt as if the breath would be snatched from his lungs if she wouldn’t soon speak again. “Very well. Lord Labruce should be back this afternoon. You may wait for him in the room below the right staircase, in the front hall where you came in.”

Success! “Thank you, Charlotte. We’ll happily wait downstairs. Gentlemen…”

Bozius and Rafule bowed a bit clumsily, but the effort was there—all three men were practically fastened in place by the overwhelmingly exquisite beauty of the woman before them. Rafule and Bozius exited first, and Rory followed. All three were on their way down the stairs but froze in place when Charlotte called again. “Mr. Casbury?”

The three men looked curious at each other. “Yes, Charlotte?”

“Would you come back in, please?”

Bozius looked directly at him, nodding, and mouthed, “Yes!”

“Of course, Charlotte,” Rory replied. “On my way…”

Bozius pumped his fist in celebration and led Rafule downstairs to the sitting room. Rory, meanwhile, brushed his clothes quickly with his hands, ran his fingers quickly though his hair, and proceeded back into the office, where Charlotte now stood in front of the desk, half sitting on its edge.

“Please, Mr. Casbury, have a seat,” she offered, indicating the chair immediately before the desk. “May I call you Roderick?”

Rory gulped. It was rare that a woman intimidated him. “Most people call me Rory.”

“Hmm…” Charlotte though, removing her glasses as Rory sat before her. “I prefer Roderick.”

“It does sound nice coming from you tongue,” Rory suddenly caught himself. “Lips, I mean! Your lips… sound nice…” What is the matter with you, he scolded himself privately.

“Why, Roderick, do I make you nervous?”

“Not at all, Charlotte,” he lied. “It’s just that this little transaction is important to me, and I want everything to go… perfectly.”

“Mm hmm…” Charlotte agreed, letting her long hair out of its bun, so that it could fall perfectly across the front of her shoulder, before she slinked her body into his lap. “I’ve got a feeling that it will.”

I really am gifted, Rory congratulated himself as he slipped Charlotte’s jacket from her shoulders and welcomed her lips against his. Her kiss set him on fire, and Rory welcomed the heat. He gently slid his hand across her cheek and into the hair behind her ear, pulling her body closer to his.

She pulled away. “This office can feel so… cramped,” Charlotte declared, nibbling one more time on his lower lip. “Follow me.”

She took Rory’s hand and led him to his feet. At this point, he would have willingly followed her into one of Rafule’s blazing infernos. Instead, she pulled him through the door at the back of the office and into what turned out to be a bedroom! Apparently, she lived here at the theatre. How convenient, Rory considered. Rande Bahn is really looking up!

The room was even darker and more subdued than the rest of the Westbury Playhouse, but somehow even more comfortable. Lace curtains kept the sunlight muted through the single window in the room, and the soft whites and deep browns of the walls and furnishings really kept Rory at ease—and he would need all the ease he could get in the presence of this vixen! Charlotte led him to the grand four-post canopy bed in the center of the bedroom, turned him about, and shoved him down to the soft mattress where he became lost in the plush comforter spread across it. Before Rory could fathom what was happening, Charlotte was on top of him, tongue down his throat and hands reaching to remove his clothes. His hands fought back in equal stride, pulling Charlotte from her dress. The couple twisted and rolled about each other, somehow never breaking a kiss for more than the span of a breath, and soon wound up naked and beneath that same plush comforter that Rory first found himself on top of.

Bodies pressed deeply against each other, Charlotte was again on top of him, leaning back in pure, loud ecstasy as the two lovers flesh converged in an explosion of sensual pleasure. Nothing could be more perfect at that very moment…

“What is the meaning of this!” came the voice of a man standing in the doorway, silhouetted by the light from the office.

“Herrick!” Charlotte shrieked mid-stride.

“Lord Labruce?” Rory was not quite sure, though he was a bit embarrassed.

“What are you doing to my wife?!” the furious man demanded, stepping forth. Rory had only seen the man from a distance on a few occasions, but from the cut of the beard, the closely trimmed gray hair, and what looked like a small barbed circle branded into the back of his hand, it seemed pretty likely that this was indeed Herrick Labruce.

“I thought you were his secretary!” Rory stated.

“I am,” Charlotte murmured, rolling back on him one last time—likely a parting gift for both lovers. “I work for my husband…”

Labruce came at the couple with a sword, narrowly missing as Rory kicked Charlotte away and rolled himself to the floor. Labruce was old and slow, and Rory worked this to his advantage. The man made another swipe with his sword, and Rory ducked, grabbed his shirt, and rolled past the vindictive former nobleman. Escaping this blow, Rory found his pants and boots, then raised his still sheathed-and-belted sword to block Labruce’s next attack. Charlotte screamed and ran out of the room.

“I suppose you probably don’t want to hear about my business proposal, Lord Labruce?” Rory proposed.

“I’m going to kill you!” Labruce spat, raising his sword for another strike.

Rory ran off as the sword came down, hearing the blade get stuck in a dresser that could have as easily been his skull. Herrick Labruce was old and slow, but apparently quite strong still. Charotte fled the room, and Rory had no other option but to follow. As the two naked deviants came rushing down the stairs, Bozius and Rafule were stepping out into the hall.

“What happened?” Rafule asked.

“Rory happened,” Bozius answered.

“You encouraged me!” Rory accused as he reached the bottom of the stairs, struggling into his pants. “Grab the donkey, let’s go!”

The trio turned to flee, when suddenly a familiar face stood between them and the exit.

“You guys?” it was Shoulder-circle from the night before. “What are you doing here? You know this isn’t really a theatre, right?”

“I’m not so sure anymore,” Bozius quipped.

“Nice seeing you again,” Rory greeted nervously, looking back up the stairs while pushing his feet into his boots. “Sadly, we’re in a bit of a hurry.”

“Of course, right this way,” Shoulder-circle held the door open for them. “Now you, young man, did you learn your lesson? Are we going to respect our elders from now on?”

“Of course,” Rafule responded. “I’m so sorry about last night, really. Won’t happen again.”

“It might, you’re young,” Shoulder-circle smiled, patting Rafule on the shoulder as the trio exited on the way out. “But around here, you gotta be careful. Some people might kill you for less.”

“Kill them!” screamed Labruce from the top of the stairs as the trio exited the theatre. Bozius gave up one of his swords to jam the door handles and lock Shoulder-circle and Herrick in the playhouse.

Charlotte was outside, still naked. “I’m finally free!” she proclaimed, leaping into Rory’s arms and kissing him deeply. “I’ll never forget you!”

“I can’t wait to forget you,” Rory admitted, though he still kissed her once more. She was quite the kisser, with quite the body…

“Take this street down to Pastwine, and make a left. It’s the quickest way out of town,” Charlotte offered, kissing him one last time. “Oh, Roderick Casbury, you set me free! We will meet again!”

With that, Charlotte Labruce ran one way, and the trio ran the other. Despite instinct to turn sooner, they proceeded until they reached their destination, their frantic pace drawing way more attention than they ever wanted, all the while the mule squealing from the stress of the weight on its back and the pace it was being forced to keep. Finally it gave up and stubbornly stood its ground. Fortunately, the party had reached Pastwine.

The only question was which left to take?

“Pastwine Lane, Street, Road, or Way?” Bozius asked, reading the signs.

“Or Court?” Rafule added, noting another street sign.

“Maybe she figured we would know…” Rory considered.

“Well, you spoke the language of love with her,” Bozius cracked. “You tell us.”

“You told me to go for it!” Rory retorted, not enjoying Bozius’s attitude.

“That was before I knew she was Labruce’s woman!” Bozius countered.

“How was I supposed to know that?” Rory shouted. “And she wasn’t just his woman, she was his wife.”

“Even better!”

“Bozy, drop it! All I wanted to do was sell our Baby!”

A passing elderly couple stopped and stared, shaking their heads.

“Oh, who are you to judge!” Rory squawked at them. “You live here! You’re probably murderers and thieves!”

The man pulled his wife close, shook his head, and led her away.

“Guys, I think Pastwine Road is the way to go,” Rafule suggested, standing in the middle of the intersection. “Look!”

Following where Rafule pointed, Rory could see the gate. Escape was within sight! He ran over to the mule, grabbed its lead rope, and tugged. And tugged. And tugged and tugged some more, but the animal refused to budge.

“Try this,” Bozius offered, walking behind the mule. Seconds later, the animal squealed in a combination of fear and discomfort, and started trotting as fast down Pastwine Road as its legs would carry it.

“What did you do?” Rory asked.

“Trade secret,” Bozius replied, half-smiling.

As they neared the gate, Rory could see the guards there looking up the hill to where the party had come from. Risking a look over his shoulder, Rory saw the distant form of Herrick Labruce and several armed men, but they were fortunately too far for their calls to be heard. Rory and Company simply quickened their pace and charged for the gate, which was starting to be pulled shut. Apparently, Labruce’s voice need not be heard; the combination of his excitement and Rory’s party sprinting for the way out were all the clues the men at the gate needed.

“Rafule?” Rory asked.

“I was thinking about that, too,” the boy responded.

Thrusting his hands forward and spreading his fingers wide, Rafule took a huge breath, and with a great exhale pushed flames forth from each fingertip. The gate blew forth, set up in a great blaze; two guards were cast into flame, charging into each other and them bouncing into their nearby fellows; and also a nearby cart full of hay burst afire. Other guards posted nearby simply leapt back from the chaos, and the trio with donkey in tow ran out of Rande Bahn, though they were not free quite yet.

“The fire will hold ‘em off for a bit, but not long enough for us to stop and think,” Bozius stated as the party continued to run from the Pit.

“Well, we can’t go back to Octaria, not yet,” Rory noted. “Not with Tabitha there. We can’t endanger that town.”

“Suddenly you care about Tabitha again?” Rafule honestly seemed offended.

“Shut up, kid. Don’t question love.” Bozius scolded the boy. “When you find some guy willing to pop that sally cherry of yours, then you can have an opinion.”

“A guy?” Rafule asked. “What’s the matter with you?”

“Boys, not now,” Rory brought the conversation back. “We need to make a decision and soon. All this running and talking is making me really tired…”

“What about New Garrison?” Bozius proposed.

“As good as we’re going to get,” Rory acknowledged. “Let’s do it.”

With that, the party continued running in silence. A few roads branched off the one leaving Rande Bahn, but it was not until the party came across and chose one of several faint trails that they finally slowed down. No one seemed more relieved than the mule. The party paused for a short break to catch their breath, then continued at a walking pace down the mountain towards New Garrison. Confident that Herrick Labruce finally gave up on them, the trio felt comfortable talking again.

“We can’t keep lugging around this chest, Rory,” Bozius said. “It’s gonna kill this poor mule. It’s not like there’s a comfortable way to load a hundred-pound square.”

“It’s more of a rectangle really,” Rory stated.

“A square is a rectangle,” Rafule informed him.

“What?” Rory shot a look at Rafule.

“A rectangle is a shape with two pairs of parallel sides, containing within itself four right angles,” Rafule affirmed. “By definition, a square is a rectangle.”

“Your taking his side?” Rory asked, befuddled.

“What?” Bozius asked. “How is he taking my side?”

“Well, yes, I kind of am,” Rafule admitted.

“Don’t defend me with your nerd talk,” Bozius demanded, and punched Rafule in the arm.

“Ow!” Rafule yelled, grabbing his sore shoulder. “What was that for?”

“I’m a man,” Bozius asserted himself.

Rory simply shook his head. “Anyway… Bozy, you’re right. We’ll have to figure out another way to carry the Golden Baby. If we can get a sturdy pack in New Garrison, that might work.”

“Oh no, I’m not lugging this thing around,” Bozius said. “I ain’t no pack mule. Sorry, Daisy, no offense.”

“Daisy?” Rory asked.

“It’s her name,” Bozius replied, adjusting the supplies on her back and feeding her a handful of oats. “Why don’t we just sell the damn thing in New Garrison and be rid of it?”

“Who in New Garrison is going to have the eighty-thousand bobbies for it!” Rory demanded.

Bozius stepped back a bit. “Why does it have to be eighty?” Bozius asked. “We’ve gone way under value for stuff before.”

“I won’t accept less than eighty-thousand, Bozy,” Rory said, avoiding eye contact. “This time, we have to get enough.”

Bozius was quiet for a moment, pondering what Rory said. “I know what this is about! Dammit, it’s so obvious! You’ve been like this for awhile now!”

“What? No!” Rory went on, backing away a bit. “What?”

“You want to propose to Tabitha!” Bozius laughed. “Hell, I knew it! I knew you were ready to settle down!”

“Really?” Rory asked, some relief in his voice.

“Oh yeah, I knew it,” Bozius went on. “You want to retire, want a little nest egg. And you’re too good to not give the kid an equal cut. Alright, Rory, you want eighty, we’ll get your eighty. But consider this my wedding present to you!”

Rory laughed nervously. “You got it...”

“And I better be invited,” Bozius claimed. “And there better be an open bar! You know I should be your best man, right? Hell, I already got the bachelor party planned…”

* * *

THE TRIO ARRIVED in New Garrison late the following morning, having traveled right on through the night, stopping only long enough to unpack rations and refill waterskins, and felt a great relief come over them as they eyed the large fort in the center of town, the namesake for this little farming village. Long, long ago, in the days when Vimiland was still being settled and various factions fought over the land, this location was an important garrison for troops and supplies between the mountain trails and the towns of Liebert and Appleton. Now, some ghosts of that legacy still remained, but the fort now was more of a community center, with shops, a church, and the mayor’s home.

It was not the party’s current destination. They were more interested in food and rest, the latter more than the former. Soon after their arrival, Rory and Company came across the Red Lantern Inn, and—true to its name—a red lantern was lit outside the door. The party tied Daisy to a post and began unpacking her.

“I’ll see about a room,” Rory offered, cracking his back and slipping away to escape the heavy work.

Stepping inside, Rory was taken aback when all eyes seemed to do a double take at him. Nothing too strange; it actually happened quite often. Between his flamboyant fashion sense that typically heralded his identity, and the dirt caked on him from non-stop egress down the Crescent Mountains, Rory was bound to attract attention. Ignoring it—he was not in the mood for autographs this morning—the Pirate of Vimiland stepped up to the front counter to inquire about a room.

When the clerk avoided eye contact with him, Rory finally took notice of the Wanted Poster behind the desk: his likeness was drawn above a claim that he stole a pressure treasure from Castletop!

“Well, that’s a bit of an exaggeration,” Rory thought aloud.

“Roderick Casbury?” called a voice from behind him. Turning, he noticed two deputies. “Are you Roderick Casbury?”

“I might be…” Rory replied.

“Mr. Casbury,” the deputy stated. “I’m afraid we have to clap you in irons for the duration of your stay in New Garrison.”

At that moment, Bozius and Rafule were walking in with the Golden Baby’s storage chest between them.

“Oh no!” Rory shouted as dramatically as possible, waving his hands about wildly so as to keep the deputies’ attention on him. “Why? Oh why me? Why have I been forsaken?” His comrades took the hint and slowly crept back out. “For how long?”

“Well, Mr. Casbury,” the deputy continued. “I’m afraid until someone from Castletop comes to get you.”

“Oh, the humanity!” Rory pleaded, looking around to make sure his friends escaped. Looking through a window, past the patrons that were all staring at him intently, Rory spied Bozius, Rafule, and Daisy creeping back towards the forest. “The horror! The agony!”

“Mr. Casbury,” asked the deputy, “will you please go with us?” Rory nodded as he offered up his wrists to the iron cuffs.

“And Mr. Casbury,” asked the other deputy, opening his mouth for the first time. “When we get to the jailhouse, can I have your autograph?”

“Of course,” Rory agreed as the two men took him away. “After all, I can never deny a fan. Will there be food there?”

“Oh, yes, sir,” the first deputy answered. “Thelma’s finishing her famous pancakes right about now.”

“Oh, Thelma,” Rory continued. “Bless her heart. Maybe we can work a backrub in there, too? I’m real sore. You know, from all the law-breaking.”

“We’ll see what we can do, Mr. Casbury.”

“Perfect…”