A World Without Heroes
Page 37
Jason sighed. “Fine. I’m not going to mess up either. If you want to eat my socks, that’s your business.”
“Is it official? Deal?”
“Deal.”
CHAPTER 9
TARK
Three days later, in the early afternoon, Jason and Rachel reached the area where the peninsula joined the mainland. The cliffs had leveled to a beach of silvery sand that mirrored the sky when moistened by waves. An oval, narrow-mouthed bay reached inland from where the peninsula and the mainland met. Beyond the mouth of the inlet desolate beaches stretched southward to the horizon.
Ever since the sea cave, Jason had remained wide awake during his watches, and he had failed to catch Rachel napping. They had felt tense on the road, since many expanses had offered little cover. Nevertheless the days had passed calmly, with no frenzied dogs, horrible manglers, or even fellow travelers passing them on the road. Their food supply had steadily dwindled however, leaving them with only enough for another day or two.
As the road meandered toward the rear of the bay, a fishing village came into view, huddled near the water. A sizable wharf with many docks projecting into the inlet stood devoid of any vessel bigger than a rowboat. A few small crafts floated in the calm harbor, rocking as fishermen slung nets. Two men sat at the end of a worn dock, holding long fishing poles and talking.
The houses in town were boxy structures painted in fading colors. Most of them looked to have been constructed from driftwood and flotsam. On many sagging porches crates and casks served as tables and stools. Plain canvas curtains hung in malformed windows. Seashells or wildflowers in colored bottles invariably decorated the sills. Atop one house a figurehead of a plump mermaid, paint peeling, leaned out over the yard. A lazy mood pervaded the town. Few people walked the street—those who did seemed to wander.
One structure in town stood out from the rest—a wide, round building with a shallowly sloped conical roof. It drew attention because it ponderously rotated like an overgrown carousel. The bizarre rotunda sat high on a slope, the farthest structure from the water.
Jason glanced at Rachel. “Our first town,” he said quietly.
“It’s almost weird to see people.”
“Nobody stares,” Jason said, “but everybody glances.”
“They seem wary,” Rachel said. “Should we check out the spinning building?” Jason nodded.
Through streets powdered with orange dust they walked up to the odd edifice. A freestanding sign posted out front dubbed the building THE TAVERN-GO-ROUND. Up close the walls whirled by fast enough that Jason wondered how anyone came or went. Since laying his eyes on the peculiar structure, he had not yet noticed it stop. A platform with a few steps led up to the moving wall. The door came by. A square-faced man leaning out called, “You want in?”
“Yes!” Jason shouted, mounting the platform.
The man and the door spun out of sight. When he came around again, wind ruffling his hair, the man held a meaty arm outstretched. Jason caught hold, and the man swung him through the portal.
“The lady also, I expect?” the man asked.
“Yes, please.”
Inside, Jason found a single large common room, with a circular bar curved around the center. Tables and chairs were fixed to the floor. Rafters strewn with glowing kelp added a turquoise radiance to the sunlight flashing through the moving windows.
Only a few patrons sat at tables, a few more at the bar. Two of the men seated at tables were dressed as soldiers. A pair of barmaids navigated the room with trays, leaning expertly to keep balanced. Here by the door the outward pull was difficult to resist.
Rachel came through the door, supported by the square-faced man. “Look at this place,” she murmured.
“I’m surprised there isn’t more puke on the floor,” Jason mumbled back. He strode to the bar, noticing how the pull lessened the closer he came to the center of the room. Rachel joined him at the bar, where the sensation was minimal.
“What can I do for you? I’m Kerny.” The bartender, a lanky man with a huge overbite and hair visible in his ears, introduced himself.
“Why is this place spinning?” Jason asked.
Kerny blinked. “An underground river turns a wheel far below us.”
“Does it ever stop?” Rachel asked.
“Only if the river does. The speed varies with the season. We’re going round pretty good right now. Takes some folks a little time to get accustomed, like earning your sea legs. The Tavern-Go-Round put us on the map. Back when maps were legal.”
Kerny turned to a man squatting on a nearby stool. The man mumbled something, pulled a copper pellet from his pocket, and handed it to Kerny. Jason began rummaging through his satchel.
“What food do you serve?” Jason asked, after Kerny had placed a bowl of stew before the man.
“All kinds of seafood. Best we serve is puckerlies. We keep them alive in a tank. You ever had puckerlies?”
“No,” Jason said.
“Nothing beats a platter of puckerlies served live.”
“How much?”
“Three and a half drooma. But worth it.”
“Did that guy just pay a drooma for that stew?” Rachel verified.
“Yeah. It’s really hearty.”
Jason and Rachel glanced at each other indecisively. At least Jason now knew that the copper balls were each a drooma. The bronze ones would hopefully be worth more.
“Can’t we get parasites from raw seafood?” Rachel asked the bartender.
“Not every puckerly is fit to serve,” Kerny said. “We’re selective. We don’t get complaints.”
“Haven’t you had raw fish?” Jason asked Rachel. “You seem like the type who would eat sushi.”
She narrowed her eyes. “Of course I’ve had sushi. How it’s prepared matters a lot.”
“How’s this,” Kerny offered, clapping his hands down on the bar. “I’ll let you each sample a puckerly. If you like them, order the platter. Agreed?”
“Sure.” Jason said.
Kerny returned quickly. In each hand he held a black thimble-shaped shell roughly the size of a plum. Jason accepted one and peered at the squirming, multicolored tissue inside. Rachel was right that raw seafood could be dangerous. He remembered his biology teacher expounding on the perils of consuming raw fish. Jason glanced at Rachel. “Ladies first.”
She gave him a snotty grin. “You’re such a gentleman when it’s convenient. I vote you be the guinea pig.”
“Is it official? Deal?”
“Deal.”
CHAPTER 9
TARK
Three days later, in the early afternoon, Jason and Rachel reached the area where the peninsula joined the mainland. The cliffs had leveled to a beach of silvery sand that mirrored the sky when moistened by waves. An oval, narrow-mouthed bay reached inland from where the peninsula and the mainland met. Beyond the mouth of the inlet desolate beaches stretched southward to the horizon.
Ever since the sea cave, Jason had remained wide awake during his watches, and he had failed to catch Rachel napping. They had felt tense on the road, since many expanses had offered little cover. Nevertheless the days had passed calmly, with no frenzied dogs, horrible manglers, or even fellow travelers passing them on the road. Their food supply had steadily dwindled however, leaving them with only enough for another day or two.
As the road meandered toward the rear of the bay, a fishing village came into view, huddled near the water. A sizable wharf with many docks projecting into the inlet stood devoid of any vessel bigger than a rowboat. A few small crafts floated in the calm harbor, rocking as fishermen slung nets. Two men sat at the end of a worn dock, holding long fishing poles and talking.
The houses in town were boxy structures painted in fading colors. Most of them looked to have been constructed from driftwood and flotsam. On many sagging porches crates and casks served as tables and stools. Plain canvas curtains hung in malformed windows. Seashells or wildflowers in colored bottles invariably decorated the sills. Atop one house a figurehead of a plump mermaid, paint peeling, leaned out over the yard. A lazy mood pervaded the town. Few people walked the street—those who did seemed to wander.
One structure in town stood out from the rest—a wide, round building with a shallowly sloped conical roof. It drew attention because it ponderously rotated like an overgrown carousel. The bizarre rotunda sat high on a slope, the farthest structure from the water.
Jason glanced at Rachel. “Our first town,” he said quietly.
“It’s almost weird to see people.”
“Nobody stares,” Jason said, “but everybody glances.”
“They seem wary,” Rachel said. “Should we check out the spinning building?” Jason nodded.
Through streets powdered with orange dust they walked up to the odd edifice. A freestanding sign posted out front dubbed the building THE TAVERN-GO-ROUND. Up close the walls whirled by fast enough that Jason wondered how anyone came or went. Since laying his eyes on the peculiar structure, he had not yet noticed it stop. A platform with a few steps led up to the moving wall. The door came by. A square-faced man leaning out called, “You want in?”
“Yes!” Jason shouted, mounting the platform.
The man and the door spun out of sight. When he came around again, wind ruffling his hair, the man held a meaty arm outstretched. Jason caught hold, and the man swung him through the portal.
“The lady also, I expect?” the man asked.
“Yes, please.”
Inside, Jason found a single large common room, with a circular bar curved around the center. Tables and chairs were fixed to the floor. Rafters strewn with glowing kelp added a turquoise radiance to the sunlight flashing through the moving windows.
Only a few patrons sat at tables, a few more at the bar. Two of the men seated at tables were dressed as soldiers. A pair of barmaids navigated the room with trays, leaning expertly to keep balanced. Here by the door the outward pull was difficult to resist.
Rachel came through the door, supported by the square-faced man. “Look at this place,” she murmured.
“I’m surprised there isn’t more puke on the floor,” Jason mumbled back. He strode to the bar, noticing how the pull lessened the closer he came to the center of the room. Rachel joined him at the bar, where the sensation was minimal.
“What can I do for you? I’m Kerny.” The bartender, a lanky man with a huge overbite and hair visible in his ears, introduced himself.
“Why is this place spinning?” Jason asked.
Kerny blinked. “An underground river turns a wheel far below us.”
“Does it ever stop?” Rachel asked.
“Only if the river does. The speed varies with the season. We’re going round pretty good right now. Takes some folks a little time to get accustomed, like earning your sea legs. The Tavern-Go-Round put us on the map. Back when maps were legal.”
Kerny turned to a man squatting on a nearby stool. The man mumbled something, pulled a copper pellet from his pocket, and handed it to Kerny. Jason began rummaging through his satchel.
“What food do you serve?” Jason asked, after Kerny had placed a bowl of stew before the man.
“All kinds of seafood. Best we serve is puckerlies. We keep them alive in a tank. You ever had puckerlies?”
“No,” Jason said.
“Nothing beats a platter of puckerlies served live.”
“How much?”
“Three and a half drooma. But worth it.”
“Did that guy just pay a drooma for that stew?” Rachel verified.
“Yeah. It’s really hearty.”
Jason and Rachel glanced at each other indecisively. At least Jason now knew that the copper balls were each a drooma. The bronze ones would hopefully be worth more.
“Can’t we get parasites from raw seafood?” Rachel asked the bartender.
“Not every puckerly is fit to serve,” Kerny said. “We’re selective. We don’t get complaints.”
“Haven’t you had raw fish?” Jason asked Rachel. “You seem like the type who would eat sushi.”
She narrowed her eyes. “Of course I’ve had sushi. How it’s prepared matters a lot.”
“How’s this,” Kerny offered, clapping his hands down on the bar. “I’ll let you each sample a puckerly. If you like them, order the platter. Agreed?”
“Sure.” Jason said.
Kerny returned quickly. In each hand he held a black thimble-shaped shell roughly the size of a plum. Jason accepted one and peered at the squirming, multicolored tissue inside. Rachel was right that raw seafood could be dangerous. He remembered his biology teacher expounding on the perils of consuming raw fish. Jason glanced at Rachel. “Ladies first.”
She gave him a snotty grin. “You’re such a gentleman when it’s convenient. I vote you be the guinea pig.”
