2. Fenric #3
Malfas beamed at him. “You bet. But you don’t need to call us sirs.
We don’t need any such formalities. You—” He glanced down at his club, which was about the length of a man’s arm.
It really looked like someone had ripped a limb off a tree, removed the bark, sanded it a bit, and stained it with the blood of Malfas’s enemies.
It currently leaned against the table as if it was a regular member of the team and was only missing its own bowl of stew.
Malfas frowned, then looked back up at Maxie. “He said you’re going to join us?”
Maxie made a choking sound as if his last breath had gotten caught in his throat. He blinked away tears and pinned a fragile smile on his lips. “I beg your pardon?”
Fenric went around the table toward the stove, fastidiously ignoring the warlock’s proclamation. He’d dish up bowls for both of them. “The club is Mal’s constellation—”
“No, no,” Malfas corrected with a sigh of exasperation. “My constellation isn’t in the club. It speaks to me through the club. Please do get that straight.”
“—and he speaks to his constellation on the regular, which makes him look like a crazy person,” Fenric said without missing a beat, ladling up some heavenly looking beef stew to cover the mashed potatoes. “But the batty thing spouts all manner of nonsense. Mal, this smells amazing.”
When he turned back, it was to find a very confused and maybe even worried expression wrinkling up Maxie’s adorable face. Apparently something didn’t hit with his explanation. He took a breath to steer the conversation in a different direction, but Belstrom beat him to it.
“You seem like an erudite young man, but maybe you were raised within an agnostic approach toward the realm of deities and constellations,” Bel began.
“According to the great philosopher Andrianos, constellations were born into existence and graced our heavens long before the arrival of the gods. They are known for their powers of prognostication and control over the basic elements. It was after the writings of Siskelis, nearly a full century later, when we arrived at the theory that it was the constellations that gave rise to the gods and goddesses we all know as a way of efficiently managing the lives of all living beings in the world.”
Fenric nearly moaned, still clutching both bowls in his hands. Rain swore. It was hard to stop Belstrom once you got him started. Thankfully, Maxie cut in.
“Oh, I am well versed in Siskelis’s writings on the ten constellations and the fifty gods. It was a truly enlightening read. No, what surprised me was the constellation saying I was joining you. It was my understanding that Fenric’s generous invitation was just for the night.”
“And it is,” Fenric said, setting the bowl down in front of Maxie with a solid thud.
He held Maxie’s wide, questioning gaze with a firm look.
“You seem like a good kid who’s in a bad spot, but you don’t want to tie yourself to a bunch of villains.
” And before he could possibly crumble and say something that would label him a softhearted sap, he turned his attention back to Malfas. “You visited the market?”
“Yes, I scored some very excellent meat at the market earlier today. We’re planning to turn the rest into jerky and put it in my bag of holding so we’ve got something when we’re on the road. Here, Maxie, have some wine; on days when you get buried, you absolutely deserve some wine.”
“Thank you so much.”
Fenric breathed a sigh of relief. Maxie was smiling, not appearing hurt at all that he was being shown the door at daybreak. The guy seemed happy enough just to have a meal and a place to sleep for the night. That was good enough.
Belstrom cleared his throat. “Forgive me for seeming obtuse, but are we going to gloss over what Mal’s constellation said? Maxie, you are going to join us?”
Fenric seriously considered throwing a slice of bread at Belstrom’s head. Preferably the hard, crusty end piece.
“I truly wish to,” Maxie said with a hopeful smile. His nervous gaze skittered over to Fenric and then darted away again. “But I understand not wanting to be saddled with someone who has no useful skills. I wouldn’t wish to be a burden on anyone.”
Fenric sat heavily and kept his eyes locked on his own bowl of stew. They did not need a kid getting in the way of their work. Mal’s constellation was wrong. It had to be wrong.
Belstrom would not be distracted. “Why?”
“Well.” Maxie licked his lips. The hand holding his spoon tightened to the point that his knuckles turned white under the remains of grave dirt.
As he thought, he stared at the table, but when he finally found his words, he lifted his head again to look at everyone seated before him.
“I’m…alone. I was thrown out, in fact. Fenric counseled I should gain skills and allies in order to get my revenge, and you’re all villains, correct?
Revenge is your business. Wouldn’t joining you be the best way for me to accomplish my goal?
Plus, I would gain the survival skills I so clearly lack. ”
Rain tapped a finger against the table. “But you’re too innocent.”
Fenric nodded in agreement. Yes, good, it wasn’t just him who thought so.
“I can learn!” Maxie protested. “I can learn how to be evil.”
Fenric doubted that—seriously doubted that—but he also didn’t have the heart to tell the kid.
Maxie didn’t even know how to curse properly, but they were somehow supposed to teach him how to kill, steal, lie, and swindle?
It would be like shattering a stained glass window to use the pieces to decorate an outhouse.
“I highly doubt you can,” Hapi drawled as he moved his spoon through the stew.
Fortunately, Fenric had a Hapi to say harsh things for him.
Maxie’s bottom lip trembled as he looked at Hapi, eyes going large and liquid. “Can’t I try?”
Hapi faltered and couldn’t seem to form words.
Ha! Not even the oh-so-serious Hapi could say no to that face. Fenric felt vindicated.
“It’s way too late at night. I’m two bottles of wine in and can’t trust my judgment.
We should sleep on it and revisit,” Rain suggested.
“Eat, Maxie. Don’t stress about it. You’re welcome to stay tonight.
Oh, and Maxie? If you see animated skeletons outside, don’t fret about those.
They’re Hapi’s skelebabies. He’s a necromancer, see. ”
Maxie should have reacted like most people and recoiled, but instead he lit right up.
“Oh! I’ve always wanted to meet a necromancer.
Hapi, is it all right if I ask questions?
I have no wish to trouble you. I’ve just always been very curious about how your ability works and where you source your skeletons. ”
Hapi blinked at him, blinked again, and there were some high-speed calculations going on over there. Then he actually unbent enough to give a slight smile. “I do not mind questions.”
“Delightful! Thank you for indulging me. First, where does your source of power come from?”
Fenric ate his soup and watched as Maxie somehow charmed his very tight-lipped friend into a full-blown conversation.
He hadn’t heard Hapi say this much at once since they’d accidentally capsized the ship six months ago.
Of course, that time Hapi was pissed because all his skelebabies had gotten washed away, and he’d had to start all over again rebuilding his army.
Plus, he’d gotten wet, and Hapi was very catlike in that he preferred to get wet only on his terms.
However, this kid got him talking in five seconds flat.
Fenric looked at Maxie and, for some reason, the word “formidable” came to mind.