CHAPTER 21 — END GAME #3
Carrying my kitten, I get lots of offers to take a look at more. Sellers are so helpful; they advise me that cats need multiple friends. Five is a good number, they inform me like they think a silly human won’t know that I’m being hosed.
I do take advantage of this to hold every kitten I’m offered; it’s maybe the best hardship ever. I’m having a blast as my orange stray stays perched on my shoulder happily purring, and I don’t mind at all that sellers are trying to snooker me. Because kitten snuggles. Best day ever!
“Oh my Eternal,” I hear Roarg groan from behind me. “Stephanie, I said we needed three more. How many do you have there—and tell me you didn’t pay thirty coppers apiece, or I’ll make sure you don’t sit down for a week.”
I’m sitting in a wooden box with seven kittens, if you count my orange shoulder ornament. Intrigued, I twist to look up at him. “Really?”
He gives me a quelling frown, reaches down, and takes the kitten tucked next to my heart. He gives the kitten a quelling frown too—but then he’s snuggling her under his beard, her tail curling around his upper lip like a sooty mustache.
“She’s a Siamese!” I singsong proudly. The whole litter is Siamese, some with chocolate points and some with blue, and they’re darling.
“I see that,” Roarg agrees, still staring at me.
“She’s not thirty coppers,” I add helpfully.
He narrows his eyes at me. “How many coppers is she, exactly?”
I wince. “Forty-five.”
Roarg stares over my head at the merchant. “When I’m done beating my wives, I’m coming after you.”
Unworried, the merchant grins. “Tell you what—if you buy the whole litter, I’ll give you a deal.”
Roarg’s nostrils flare, and a muscle in his jaw pops. “I don’t need the whole damn litter.”
His angry face would be more effective if there wasn’t a kitten tail framing it.
The merchant does not look deterred. “Your wife said you need three.”
“Need is a stretch,” Roarg grumps.
“That’s forty-five each, which’ll be one thirty-five. Or what if, for... say, seventy-five coppers,” the seller cajoles, “you got a whole litter?”
“Forty. Five,” Roarg enunciates through his clenched teeth, “And I don’t break your fingers for encouraging my wife to fall in love with the whole damn litter.”
For fifty-five, we end up with the whole litter. (The seller’s hands stay unbroken.)
My arms are full of kittens, Roarg’s arms are full of kittens, I’m beaming—and he’s pretending he’s not smiling.
We’re walking with me bumping affectionately into his side, when we see Ulda, Namak?ga, Joktepitha, and the kids, all joined up ahead of us as they show each other things they’ve bought.
“You there, troublemakers!” Roarg bellows, gaining their attention.
And when their heads whip up and they see us, they start laughing—and then they’re rushing up, claiming kittens.
Everyone’s talking and laughing, and with his hands free and all his kittens taken from him, Roarg wraps his arm around my shoulders and pulls me tight against himself as Joktepitha, Ulda, and Namak?ga meet their new cats.
“You chose well,” Roarg leans down to murmur at my ear.
I press against him and tease, “And I found a good deal?”
Roarg surprises me with a grin. “You found an unparalleled bargain. I can count on one hand the number of times I’ve tripped upon a deal so fine.”
Surprised, I search his face, trying to see if he’s serious. “Really?”
He nods. “Oh yes.” He indicates a street opposite the one I took. “Down there, sooty kittens were one hundred coppers each.”
I gasp. “We screwed that kitten guy!”
Roarg gives me side-eye, mouth opening, head tilting as he works out my meaning. Finally, he says, “We did no such thing. We bargained.”
“More like robbed,” I say, aghast.
He squeezes me. “That was Bonesplitter who sold us our litter, and for every time he’s haggled me down to the ground on a knife sale, he owed me a deal on cats.” With a gentle smile, he gestures at our family.
I jolt. Our family.
It doesn’t feel weird to think of them as… mine. By now, they are. When they hurt, I hurt. When they’re happy, so am I.
That’s family. My family.
“Look at them,” Roarg is saying. “For this, I would pay dearly.”
I look where he indicates, and see delight on every face. I sigh, feeling myself smile.
There’s a strange sound, like someone’s playing a note on a glass harp…
only I seem to be the only one looking around for the source of the noise.
I pull away from Roarg almost without me realizing I’m moving, and I start following the sound.
Then I look around and wonder why no one else seems intrigued.
“Do you hear that music?” I ask. “It’s… interesting. ”
Roarg grunts and looks down at his hand—in it is a coin. Smiling in bemusement, he holds it up for me to see.
“Wow!” I exclaim, getting closer. “I wonder what that’s for.”
“It has been some time since we’ve received one,” he mutters thoughtfully. And despite the fact that he's holding gold, his face darkens at some thought.
After a moment of introspection, he shares it. “Has it stopped being a game to you?” he asks me, raising his eyes to meet mine.
“It never was,” I tell him, amazed at how easy the answer comes to me. “You were never really a game.”
The line of his shoulders eases down.
“I wanted you to be, but you…” I shake my head.
“You made me crazy for you from night one,” I tell him.
Meaning it. Then I roll my eyes. “And then the whole family grew on me. Or bowled me over—that might be more accurate,” I muse.
“Trust me. I’m so tied up in you—in this whole family—I’m committed. ”
Some would say I’m certifiable, but you’d have to be in my shoes to know what I mean when I say… these are my people.
Roarg is staring at me, his eyes dark and his gaze moving up and down my body in a way I like a lot.
I move to him and he raises his arm to invite me back to his side. Hand hidden in the folds of my dress, he feels me up indecently. But his mind is still circling the gold, apparently. “I wonder why a coin would show itself here, today. Why now, after all this time without? What does that mean?”
Holding my kitten, I lean in and inhale Roarg’s shirt, making him smirk down at me. “I can’t even guess,” I tell him. “Maybe it came because we’re here having fun?”
Roarg’s expression turns half-indurate, half-muleish. “I suppose we’re enjoying ourselves.”
I laugh, and he catches me for a hard kiss. Then he turns and drags me to Ulda, who is expertly wrangling Opkug and two kittens. Without dislodging me, Roarg takes Ulda’s face, basking in the happiness that’s radiating from her, and he hauls her in for a tender kiss, their tusks clacking together.
I’ve gotten used to being held by Roarg while he bestows affection on his other wives. It’s not weird at all for the Orcs to form hug clusters like this, and nobody gets offended.
Not even me.
Still, I detach myself from his side to let them have a moment, and Roarg moves next to give attention to Namak?ga. Joktepitha watches them with a smile, holding Crushosh, waiting for her turn.
My eyes wander to a spot behind everyone, and I see where we are. We’re standing in front of the alley that I was drawn to earlier.
As if on some cue, the flute music starts up again.
My heart rate speeds. Because the flutes? Their music is coming from the alley. And at the very end of this alley, I think I see a sign that starts with the letter Z.
My gaze leaps to the storefronts on either side of the alley. A shoe drawing decorates the sign on the left. A cobbler. And sure enough, the window of the building on the right reveals shelves of vials and jars. It’s an apothecary.
The two stores ZULDANA was supposed to be sandwiched between.
“No way,” I breathe.
My feet start carrying me without me consciously making the decision to move.
And even though I half expect it, I’m still floored when I get close enough to confirm that the alley shop’s sign does indeed read: ZULDANA Player Outpost.
Rushing for the door in disbelief, I jerk it open, lunging inside.
The notes of the flute that lured me here softly play from speakers set high on the wall.
I stare, dumbfounded. The room is set up exactly like every medieval trading post from every roleplaying game ever: wood floorboards, wood rafters, timber wall supports, and you guessed it, wooden walls frame up a mostly bare space, save for the positively huge wall-to-wall board that lists magical items and weapons for sale.
Beneath this sale board is a high countertop flanked by giant treasure chests.
Behind the counter stands the employee manning this outpost station.
A human. Like me.
“Hi!” the perky young woman chirps.
She’s dressed in a crisply ironed lime green polo shirt, she’s wearing full makeup, and I’m willing to bet my whole purse of coppers that she didn’t wash up in a bucket this morning.
“Hi,” I reply woodenly, stunned.
Her eyes zip over me and her hand flies to her chest. “Oh gosh, you’re in an Orc-style dress, you’ve got face tattooing, and you’ve got a wife’s braid rings in your hair.” She shoots me a grin like she knows exactly what these mean. “Stephanie, right? You’re the player who chose the Orc quest.”
I nod dumbly.
She couldn’t look more delighted. “Last week I got a promotion, so I’m your new gamemaster! Technically, I’m the gamemaster for this entire romance realm. I love my job,” she gushes, eyes bright on my frozen face.
Maybe because of my frozen face, her smile dims. “But on behalf of the team at Zuldana, I have to say we are so, so sorry.”
Numb, I ask, “For what?”
She winces. “Your game’s glitch.”
I narrow my eyes. “A glitch?”
She drums her wonderfully manicured nails on the counter. Mine used to look like that, back before I hand washed all my dishes and clothes. “Every player gets a game guide to start their experience off right. There was a glitch with yours.”
“A glitch? My game guide quit.”