This choice: "Well, my husband is a minotaur..." • Go Back...Chapter #6Minotaurs, Mass, and a Satyr's Flabby Desires by: hedkrakka   "W-well, my husband is a Minotaur, you see, and-"
"And you are... worried... that you are... too small. Minotaurs are... quite large and... quite fat. Satyrs... are not." As he spoke, a third raven foot-hand reached out from under his cloak. This and his free hand grabbed two small items off his wagon, while the rodents continued feasting on cheese in his left. "So... little Torgher... would you buy... my jar... or my tube? Thirty... silver each, or both... for fifty. The discount... is because... I like you."
A fourth taloned hand rose from his back, and Tori repressed a shudder. It pointed at a box of rings, and the merchant said, "These rings are cursed... and if I sold... them to you... you would die... or those you love... would. I... would never sell... curses... to those... I like."
The strange, alien merchant leaned over his brazier, inhaling the smoke deeply once again. Pondering his words, Tori frowned. "Hold on. How did you know my name?"
"The stars... told me... your name. Your stars are... quite strange... but very kind... very honest... I like them... more then my own. Even the kindest... of my old gods... was crueler then... the nastiest of yours. My land... is Dying. And the Harpy... is very pretty. Her breasts... are very large. Very large. Especially... for a bird. I suspect... flight is difficult... but her chicks... shall be well fed. And such... pretty feathers."
Suppressing another shudder at the unnatural thing before her, and its clear interest in her friend, she asked, "What is in the jar and the tube?"
"Something different... for each person. Sometimes... a scroll... sometimes, a poison... for you... something else. The tube... contains a potion... to crash your metabolism and... make it far easier to gain... weight. The jar... contains... a necklace. One... of a pair. There are two halves... to this necklace. One piece is of the Glutton... and the other, the Gaunt.
"The one who... wears the Gaunt can... consume as much... as they desire. The magic will... only allow... into their stomach... what they need to survive... and be healthy... no more and no less.
"The one who wears... the Glutton receives... the excess into their... stomach. It is...a good way to be... perpetually stuffed... on another's dime."
"A what?"
"A small silver coin... in another place and time," Mikhail replied. He lowered his beak to the mouse and rats who had now finished off their cheese. The rodents bobbled and rubbed against the sides, avoiding the sharp looking point, then scurried back into his dark clothes. "And you need not worry... about a rupture. The magic... will adapt you... as necessary... and soon your stomach... will stretch ever on. I have... learned my lessons well."
Tori desperately tried and failed to suppress her thoughts on exactly what these "lessons" entailed, but if the merchant noticed her discomfort, he gave no sign. "You may choose one... or the other... or both."
"Who has the Gaunt half?"
"Normally... I would not tell you. Customer... confidentiality, you understand. However, while I like this customer's money... I dislike the customer... so I shall tell you. The daughter of Fathmu the Ninth and Worst."
"Th-the Duke h-himself!?" Torgher whisper-shouted, fearful of someone overhearing the avian merchant as he seemed unable to adjust the volume of his (thankfully quiet) voice.
"Indeed. His daughter... is a glutton... like the horned frogs of the Motee Marshes. I... suspect she would eat until... her stomach ripped... and keep going. Foolish, vile, and spoiled. Her father... is worse. It is well... that Fathmu the First and Only... did not live to see... how far his line... has fallen. It is a cruel jest... that the most inbred one, raised... in a horrid murder-house... was the best of... the whole rotten brood. My friend... overcame much, and... deserved a better legacy."
Before Torgher could comprehend what the alien entity had just said, he continued, "The Duke is worried. His... daughter's lack of control... and adoption of the Cult of Jynera... has seen her enlarge quickly. Many nobles... do not want... such a wife. And so, he contacts me. Claims... loyalty I do not owe his line. Still... he pays. Still... he desires. A key, he wants... to keep his daughter... thin and pretty... despite herself.
"But magic does not work... the way he thinks. What... is taken must be given. As above... so below. Someone must consume... what she rejects. The Duke... cares not as to who. The suffering... of others mean nothing... to him. Dealing with Fathmu The Worst... feels like being at home. I HATE IT."
How such a whistling, odd voice could instill so much hatred into a single word was beyond the short Satyr's ability to understand, yet the bird-merchant did just that. A shiver traveled down her spine, and she was so, so happy that she wasn't on the receiving end of such ire.
"I will not... try to force you... into the necklace. It is true... I need another... to accept the Glutton half... to make my deal... with the horrid Duke. But I care not... if I must tell him no. My loyalty... was to my friend. Not... his wretched spawn."
Tori digested what the merchant told her in silence, the bird-man in black feeding flies to the passing bats as the silent moments ticked onward. She coughed before saying, "And... if I don't actually have enough to afford either? My husband and I just bought a house, and while we're starting to work again, there's not a lot we can do over the winter."
"Understandable. Funds... in the winter months... are always tight. There are... other means of... payment. Things worth more... then coin. But, be wary. These payments may cost you... most of all.
"For these items... taking into account the Duke's deal... Three hairs from your cream-colored head... A sliver of both hoof and horn... And a single dream, taken at night unknown."
"Wh-wh-what-!"
Before Tori could panic at the bizarre Fae deal, Mikhail raised his talons. "Hold. Be at peace. As I said... I like you. Hoof and horn... to fix my buttons... and the hair... to retie loose threads. And the dream... to sew into my cloak. A small price to pay. I could... have asked for... a future... and it would have been the best of... them all. I could not... knowingly send you... into blackness and misery. I will also... offer an... extended warranty. For free, mind. I am... fair and kind."
"Extended warranty?"
"If you take... the necklace... bad things may follow. I would... like to think... the Brat will die soon. But if not... she will never relent... and her father... will never care. Mixing the jar and the tube... will yield the best... results... but you may grow beyond the point... of reason.
"I always pass this way... many times a year. I... shall check in and... make sure things... are okay. And if not... work to fix them.
"And so... what say you? The jar... the tube... or both?"
Tori, worried at the information given to her, shivered in the cold night air, yet she knew what her answer had to be. "Both."
"Done. So says... Mikhail of the Dying Lands... and Torgher of River's Bend." With a blink, the air seemed to redden for but a moment, and the taste of ozone was in the air. "It is done. Drink of the tube, and don the necklace. And remember, if you need my help, I shall come."
The merchant took a deep breath, as if unused to speaking full sentences without pause. "The necklace... shall disappear once... you put it on. The first few... days may hurt... as your stomach... gets used to eating... for one Satyr... and a small... herd of Swine. And... there's one more thing...
"Your friend, Emily. Is she... single? Asking... for a friend."   indicates the next chapter needs to be written. |
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