Chương 68: The Stars are Nice Tonight

The blacksmith analyzed the little bullet between her claws, squinting one eye as she did so, her one open eye glinting in the sheen of the brass. Placing it down, she shook her head.

"I do not think I would be able to construct anything of this sort; it is far more complex than anything else I have ever seen. What did you say these were for again?"

"A weapon," Morton said bluntly.

"Yeah, that's obvious," the blacksmith said evenly, "but exactly what type of weapon? I am assuming it is for some type of wheellock or an arquebus?"

"Pistol."

"So a wheellock then."

"Uh, somethin' of that sort." Morton shrugged. He pulled out his pistol and showed the blacksmith the firing mechanism, showing the cartridge opening and the sliding chamber for putting the pins into position. The blacksmith eyed it piercingly for a moment, first with confusion, then astonishment, then, returning to a businesslike demeanour, she shook her head to and fro and gave the bullet back to Morton.

"Where did you get something like this?"

"Back home."

"Well, whatever tribe you're from, elf—""Human."

"Whatever, it is far outside of my specialties."

"Well then," Morton said with a sigh, "perhaps you could hook me up with one of them, uh, wheellocks you were talkin' about." The blacksmith chuckled slightly, then went wide-eyed when she realized that Morton was serious.

"You… you think I can make a wheellock?"

"You're a blacksmith, ain't ya?" The blacksmith stared incredulously for a moment, then, with a sardonic smile, she flicked her ears and said, "Oh, yeah, of course." She pressed her paws firmly against the counter.

"As you can see from my little shop tucked between two other stores, I am definitely rich enough and have the governmental clearance to build a wheellock pistol for a stranger."

"So you can do it?" Morton asked.

"Definitely," the blacksmith said in a patronizing tone.

"Actually, I think I have one on hand."

"Really?" Morton asked.

"That would be great if ya did."

"Yeah, actually, I think I have one up my ass. Hold on, let me get it out for you." Swiftly, the blacksmith turned around, flashing her clothed hindquarters. With a purposefully mocking swish of her tail, she reached her paws down into her trousers and rummaged around for a moment.

"Hmmmm… I can't seem to find it… Oh, it must be reaaaalllllllllyyyy deep in there. I will have to go caving…"

"Okay, okay," Morton said with a flick of his wrist.

"I get yer point. You know where I could find someone who would be able to sell me a wheellock?"

"You really have three options."

"Well, spill 'em."

"One: you could potentially buy some off the guards of a royal family, and Seroth knows Seran won't have any." Morton looked at Tahir, who just shook his head.

"Sorry, Sir Christian," he said.

"As far as I am aware, we do not have any wheellock pistols, and I am unsure if Mother would ever sell one to you."

"Right," Morton said in understanding.

"So what is the second option?"

"Two: you could buy one off the Queen's Guard, which will happen… never."

"And three?"

"You could… I do not know if I should tell you this."

"Why not?" The blacksmith looked away for a moment, then turned back.

"Are you by chance heading to Seran City?""'Deed we are," Morton said. The blacksmith pinned her ears against her head, a grimace crossing her muzzle as her eyes darted to and fro in hesitancy. She looked him straight in the eye and said, "You can potentially get one through"—she waved a paw in the air—"less than… legal means, let's say."

"What type of illegal means are we talkin' about here?"

"When you get to Seran City, find a brothel; there should be someone who can help you, and that's all I am going to say." Morton nodded.

"Aight, thanks for the help, miss." The blacksmith did not say a word as Morton and Tahir left the blacksmithing shop and hopped into the front of their carriage.

"Uh, Sir Christian," Tahir said.

"Yeah, kid."

"We aren't… actually going to stop by a brothel, are we?" Morton shrugged.

"Guess we will see." # The flames of the roaring fire twinkled in Tahir's drooping eyelids as he and Morton sat on the stairhead of their carriage. For dinner, they had eaten some lightly cooked… ugh, hare. Lady Korra had given them a month or two's worth of dried hare. At the thought, Tahir wrinkled his nose. He was never going to escape those hares ever. Crickets jumped through the grasses that encompassed them, making little chirping noises. There was an owl in a nearby tree, feeding their young.

A cool breeze was in the air. It was a peaceful night, for sure. Tahir looked at Morton: he held his hands together, his face scrunched in what looked like contemplation.

"It is a… wonderful night, would you not say, Sir Christian?"

"Hm? Oh, yeah, s'ppose it is."

"Did I interrupt a meditation session?" Tahir asked.

"Oh, nah, nah, just thinkin'."

"About what?" The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

"Everythin'."

"That is not very specific."

"Well, I just ain't thinkin' of anythin' specific at the moment. I s'ppose."

"I suppose I am not either." Tahir sighed. He watched the fire for a moment before continuing: "Well, what is one of those 'everythings' that has your mind occupied?" Morton looked up at the night sky and pointed.

"The stars… what do ya call 'em?"

"Huh?" Tahir said with his head cocked quizzically.

"Oh, you mean the constellations?"

"Yeah, the constellations." Tahir looked up.

"Well, that one there that is shaped a bit like a misshapen triangle is Queen Kuvira's Constellation."

"And that one?" Morton asked, pointing at a cluster of stars which resembled a zigzagging circle.

"That is Seroth's Constellation. It is said that from the centre of it he descended spiritually before being made flesh by the Great Mother and becoming the first beloved."

"And do y'all got a north star?"

"North? No, but there is an eastern one," Tahir said, pointing to one particularly bright one.

"We should have no use for it, I believe, but you never know."

"I see," Morton said.

"Why do you ask?" Morton took a deep breath.

"We ain't got any of these constellations from where I come from."

"Really? Texas is that far?"

"Yep."

"That must mean your homeland is beyond the Zareth Ocean.""'Deed it is."

"So how did you end up in Avion?" Silence. Morton stared into the fire.

"I… I made a promise to someone?"

"Who?"

"I can't really say—hell, I barely understand what it is they are—but they asked me to do somethin' for saving 'em, I think. Though I don't believe I deserved any reward or anythin' like that, I made a promise to them regardless, and I always keep my promises."

"What was the promise?" Tahir asked. Morton chuckled.

"I don't think you are ready for that conversation; hell, it flies over my head."

"I see," Tahir said, clearly not seeing. He turned back to the fire. It was getting lower. Leaning over, he grabbed another log and tossed it onto the fire. As the log disappeared and became one with the embers, the flames were rejuvenated, growing taller and wider, their orangeish hue becoming more brilliant. Tahir looked down at his outfit: it was a cute enough outfit, a red, knee-length dress with a floral pattern across the skirt. Nothing amazing, but cute enough.

Kurik had given him a plethora of "travel-safe" outfits, telling him that he would be wearing brown again "over my dead body." Tahir was unsure of how "travel-safe" these dresses actually were, but they all looked fairly nice. Still, Tahir was missing the sanitization of the Seran Estate. He had concluded one thing on this journey so far: he was not a camper. Yes, right, their journey…

"Sir Christian?" he asked timidly.

"Yeah, kid?"

"We only got a little ways more to go before Veyrath, don't we?" Morton pulled the map out of his pocket and unfolded it.

"Uh… I wouldn't say a little ways, but, uh, we're gettin' closer, yeah. From the looks of it, we just gotta go to Seran City, camp in the wilderness till we get to, uh… some little town called Prophet Cove. Then from there we make our way over to the port. How long you think that would take?"

"Roughly another month or two," Tahir said, "depending on how swift our pace is."

"Huh, I guess that is a short time… but also a long time, depending on how ya look on it, I reckon." There was silence, except for the crackling of the fire.

"Sir Christian," Tahir said, slicing through the silence, "what are you planning to do after we arrive in Veyrath?" Morton said nothing for a moment.

"Honestly? I ain't too sure." Tahir looked away for a moment.

"I… I don't want you to leave me. Not yet." Morton smiled and tipped his hat.

"You're a fine kid, you know that? Smart as hell."

"Sir Christian," Tahir said choppily.

"I told you why I am heading to Veyrath, correct?"

"Uh, marriage or somethin', right?"

"I don't want to get married."

"Then why are ya getting married?"

"I need to?"

"Like hell you do!" Morton said in a raised voice that startled Tahir.

"What, does this lady you're marryin'—does she think she owns your dick or somethin'?" Tahir flicked his ears lightly in half-amusement.

"She basically does, realistically speaking."

"Is this… Hell, sorry, kid. My memory ain't too good these days. I got no clue if I asked this before: is this one of them arranged marriages?"

"Yes," Tahir said flatly.

"Makes sense."

"Was your marriage to Martha not…? Oh yes, right, you two met by happenstance when she had approached you in an earnest moment of being lovestruck, and you had thought it to be no more than a practical ruse for her enjoyment."

"More flowery than I would say it, but yeah, you remembered."

"But did she not have to win the adoration of your parents?"

"Momma and Daddy? Hell nah, my daddy was more astonished that I brought a woman home."

"Is that so?"

"Yeah, I remember one time he pulled me aside and said, 'Now, Morton, listen here: there ain't nothin' wrong with it despite what some preachers may say—and while they may think their words are the words of God, they ain't the words of God; only the good book is his word, and the good book, no matter what people may say, doesn't have any issue with it…'"' Get on with it,' I had said. Well, I said it in a, uh, nicer tone, you know, a tone that wouldn't get me smacked over the head.

Anyway, he said,"'Son, I will be honest with ya, I thought you were gay for a hot moment there.'" The fur on the back of Tahir's neck bristled." Male Love…" he whispered, then said out loud, "He thought that you were the type to engage in… sexual deviation?"

"Well, that's one way to put that," Morton said with a chuckle.

"But yes. Honestly, I think most dads think that when ya haven't brought home a girl."

"I…" Tahir choked back what he was about to say.

"Are you, though?" His eyes went wide as soon as it came out of his mouth.

"I am horribly sorry—""Oh, it's okay," Morton said. He stared into the fire.

"That… is a complicated question, kid. Never thought about it. I had Martha, then no one else. Not somethin' I ever put much stock into."

"I see," Tahir said.

"Would you… look down upon someone who had those sexual deviations?"

"Nah," Morton said with a handwave.

"I knew tons of gay men in Texas."

"Publicly?" Tahir asked.

"Well… kinda. It's a tough topic wherever you go, but… let's change the subject, shall we?"

"Yeah," Tahir said reluctantly.

"What do you think the future has in store… you know, for you?" (And perhaps me, he silently said.)"Don't know, kid," Morton admitted.

"Don't know." Morton got up and stretched.

"Welp, we should get headin' to bed. It's real dark out, and we got a long day ahead of us."

"Yeah," Tahir said.

"I will stay outside until the fire goes out. Keep watch and all."

"Sounds like a plan," Morton said.

"Night, kid."

"Good night, Sir Christian." Morton shut the door behind him. As Tahir watched the embers slowly die, many, many thoughts raced through his mind. What was his new wife going to be like? Why had his mother sent such a low number of guards to escort him? Did she just not care if he perished? Oh yeah, his mother… Tahir was not looking forward to seeing her again. Perhaps one of the silver linings of getting married off was that he wouldn't have to see her face as often. Morton… Morton… Morton…

He ruminated for a moment, thinking back on all they had been through together so far—such a short period of time, and yet it felt like forever, like a lifetime. His mind wandered a bit, going from Morton to… Nadir. Oh, his sweet little Nadir. Tears welled in Tahir's eyes. Oh, Seroth, help him; these emotions were getting too much. He wondered then if he should just—tell Morton. Maybe they could forget about Veyrath, travel across the ocean back to Texas, and they could live out a life together there.

No, he decided, not yet. Too risky for that. The fire had gone out now. Should I go inside? Tahir thought. No. Not yet. Just a moment longer.