The Fortune of Goblins: Mesa-Tulsa (2 page)

The shopkeep, Grodd, was surprised. Very surprised. He hadn’t thought a goblin capable of anything this complex. They were usually simple, vicious creatures. This one was obviously an exception. This goblin was brilliant. The schematics, coupled with his commentary, made that clear – even if the plan did display some eccentricities of design that could be fundamentally problematic.

“You have a mummy core housed in a grade Z carriage. I see the life-crystal reinforced girdles, but even with them it’s going to leak some major etheric energy. The grade Z isn’t designed to dampen that level of sentience. It’s great for basic mammals and such, but if you’re powering the machine with a mummy brain then you’ll want a grade W. It would reduce the power output by about ten percent, but you could be sure of the brain not taking control.”

Grodd punctuated this warning with an unintended shudder. He’d had a few bad experiences using sentient brain cores in the past.

“I could, but I don’t want to lose that power, and having a certain amount of etheric leak from the core is essential for the overall design.”

“Wait? You want to wake the core? That’s not a good idea. I’ve seen it done, even saw one using a human brain once. But a mummy? That’s a couple of magnitudes higher up than anything I’ve ever heard of being attempted. That thing will kill you.”

“It’s not that hard. You just have to make it self-regulating.”

“Sure, you could align the housing carriage to block certain types of brain activity, and thereby keep it from going on a slaughter fest. The amount of power needed for that, though, and the precision… I don’t think it can be done.”

Gurgle, irked, jabbed one long finger at a cluster of markings.

“Look. This system will take power from the core in proportion to the core’s strength, always siphoning just over half of the core’s maximum potential. It then feeds that power into the housing carriage, and any leftovers go to the main battery. That way the housing carriage will always apply the exact amount of power needed to restrain the core.”

Grodd shoved Gurgle aside, and took a long look at the goblin’s claim. He grunted in surprise, and fiddled – tools popping in and out of his limbs as he thought. After minutes of this he sat back with a dazed look on his face.

“This… This is mad. And brilliant. It will work. I can’t find any flaw. But this machine… What are you building it for?”

“I need a guard for my shop. I’ve found that my little pets make the best guards. I’ve even got a robot, powered by a monkey core, running my store while I’m gone.”

The dwarf nodded at this. Not a bad idea; Tulsa could be a dangerous place. Especially for those that weren’t usually welcome. This machine would certainly be enough to handle the job, and then some. It looked, to Grodd, like a mercbot. A robot, or cyborg used to handle some of the less wholesome jobs available in the mesa-world. None of his business. The design was solid, if unorthodox, and the owner was a neighbor. Best to stay friendly.

“It should be more than up to that task. Which parts are you looking for?”

“I’ve got just about everything except a few casings. I need one graded for wyrm bone, another for reaper dust, two for ent limbs, and two more for basilisk eyes.”

The shopkeeper’s eyebrows continued to rise as the list went on, until they had climbed as far up the dwarf’s face as they’d ever been. A mercbot indeed.

“I might have to send out for some of those. Let me check the inventory.”

Grodd held up one of his arms, and a hologram appeared over his wrist, displaying a catalogue of wares. He navigated through it using the neural wiring in the arm – he’d never been able to talk himself into optical replacements. He found all but three of the casings, and for those he put in orders.

“I’ve got the reaper, and the ent casings, but not the rest. I’ve placed the orders, though, and they should all be here in about twelve hours. You want to come back and get it all at once, or pay now?”

“I’ll swing back by after the rest gets in. Thank you.”

Gurgle folded up the schematic, stuffed it back into his satchel, gave the friendly mechanic a wave, and wandered back onto the roads of Merchant Lane. Behind him Grodd was already back at his worktable, continuing whatever he’d been doing when the goblin first came in, and trying not to think about his new neighbor.

Outside, the crowd was thicker than before, and a growing number of looks directed at the goblin were openly hostile. So much so that Gurgle actually noticed. These were the looks that he’d been expecting when he moved here. Just a matter of time, he supposed. The crowd parted around him like viscous oil around water, giving him an uncomfortable little bubble of walking space as he headed home to get his cart.

Part of the crowd broke away, and followed the goblin, who was too caught up in thoughts of his project to pay them any mind. When he did look behind him, as he was arriving at his shop, there was nothing to see but empty sidewalk. Gurgle climbed into the cart, and started it.

With a roar the cart shot into traffic – causing only minor damages in the process. Gurgle drove north along Peoria, the sound of weaker cart horns baying behind him. The Arcane district was a little over a mile north, and somewhere within it was the local headquarters of the Alchemist Guild. He’d been to the Arcane district before, but he’d never actually been inside any of the Guild Halls. Goblins weren’t usually permitted.

Road construction, a constant plague of the city, made the short distance seem like much further. It had Gurgle wondering why folks didn’t just walk everywhere; it might be faster. He had the excuse of needing his cart for cargo; though that was a flimsy pretense on a trip where he was only going for a small piece of paper. Perhaps everybody just liked driving as much as he did. People were odd like that.

Gurgle stopped the cart, and jumped to the ground. He’d had to park at the edge of the district, as vehicles weren’t allowed within. The magical community disdained such forms of transportation. Not flashy enough.

It wasn’t a long walk to the alchemist guild, but it was made longer by each person who ignored his requests for directions. After multitudes of silent replies, he was able to get the location out of a passing troll – who, despite his ominous robes and necklace of skulls, was really quite a nice fellow.

The guild entrance presented a small dilemma. There were four tough looking fellows standing out front, and they were eyeing Gurgle like he’d just eaten the last slice of pie. They didn’t seem overly fond of goblins, but you never knew. Until you tried.

              Gurgle marched up to the guild doors like he belonged, offering the guards only the barest of nods as he passed. If he ignored them, then they might ignore him right back.

              “Hold it. What do you think you’re doing?”

              The goblin continued to ignore them, preferring to think that they were addressing someone behind him, but a heavy hand on his shoulder was making it difficult. Perhaps they could be reasoned with.

              “Hi there. I run a shop over in Merchant Lane, and I’m in need of an alchemist’s license. Is this not the place to get one?”

              There was a long pause from the thugs guarding the Guild.

              “Think he’s the one?”

              “Almost has to be.”

              “What should we do?”

              “You kidding? I’m not messing with that thing. Let him through. You heard what it’s done.”

              The guards were scared – their minds recalling fear-filled cries of pain and the blackened silhouette of a large dog. Gurgle wasn’t sure what they were going on about, but it sounded like good news for him. The hand released him, and before he could say a word of thanks the thugs had scattered.

              The hall within the Guild was filled with acrid smells, and the muffled chatter of researchers. Gurgle had learned alchemy from his grandparents. It was a useful skill, but he’d never figured on making a living of it. Not until he found himself the owner of a shop with nothing to sell. After that it seemed like a great career choice. Most alchemical shops were within the Arcane District and constantly busy. People looking for potions didn’t always want their purchases to be common knowledge. Gurgle offered a discrete alternative to the other shops.

              A series of open cupboards lined one side of the guild hall. Within were various tools and ingredients. Along the opposite wall was a series of workstations – open for use by any with a license. Near one end of the cupboards was an official looking desk. Seated at it was an elderly cyclops. Her milky-white eye was peering at a book held so close that it brushed her large eyelashes.

              “Excuse me. I’m in need of a license. My shop is certified, and paid up, but I need a personal license for the procurement of supplies. Are you the lady to speak with about this?”

              The cyclops slowly lowered her book. Martha peered towards Gurgle with her clouded eye. This was not an unusual problem, excepting the applicant’s height. Maybe it was a child. She couldn’t tell – her vision wasn’t what it used to be. She probably shouldn’t license a child, but it wouldn’t do any real harm; no shopkeeper was going to sell it anything dangerous, license or not. Besides; she’d been asking the Guild for years to cover an eye operation. The Guild head wasn’t having any of it, though. They had a strict stance on employee benefits, he said. Strict stance against them, she thought.

              “That’ll be fifty for the applicant fee, and another hundred for the license itself.”

              Gurgle pulled out his leather wallet, counted out the money, and slid it across the table. The cyclops found it on the third try, and held out his new alchemist license.

              Gurgle thanked the kind woman, pocketed the paper, and headed back to his cart.

“You run along now, and tell your parents that they have a very polite child.”

He wondered who she was talking to now. There’d been no one else nearby. Odd lady, but kind. A fine combination of characteristics in his opinion.

              The trip home was another hectic game of bumper cars through the obstacles of construction. When he pulled up to the shop Gurgle saw something alarming enough to dampen even his strong sense of optimism. The window of his shop had been shattered, and some murky substance had been smeared across the front wall.

              The neighbors that he had met had been so kind that he’d started to believe that they might all be that way. But clearly, some resented his presence here. The glares of the market crowd earlier had been a strong indication, but this drove it home. Gurgle tried not to let it bother him; he was sure that he would grow on them, with time.

              When Gurgle opened the door Kisses was waiting for him. The dog was sprawled across the entryway, deep asleep.

“This is why I need to finish my new pet. You’re a terrible guard. Slept right through the commotion.”

              One of the dog’s lids peeled back to reveal the heated glare of an angry eye. It growled softly.

              “I’m only teasing. It’s not a replacement, you’re not going anywhere. Think of it as your new subordinate.”

              Kisses considered this. With a grumbling snort the dog conceded that this might be acceptable, and went back to sleep. He was full, and exhausted.

              Gurgle checked on the shopbot, and made sure his more valuable stock was securely hidden before going up the backstairs to his quarters. He didn’t look at the severed arm in the corner; with bites taken from it, and wearing a familiar bracelet.

THE END

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

Copyright © 2016 by Joshua Cox-Steib