Chapter 16.4: About Minkus

That night passed without further incidents, with grawl or anyone else. As usual, Penny, Minkus, and Ventyr had each taken their shifts on watch for a third of the night, a particularly critical safeguard in light of their earlier encounter. Unlike usual, however, Penny got little if any sleep in the hours leading up to her shift. Adjusting herself again and again between blankets and mat, she found no comfort great enough to induce rest. When her watch came, it was a relief simply that she no longer had to feign sleep.

Just as Ventyr had said was the case on his own watch, nothing at all happened as Penny stared for hours into the blackness of the gorge below them. It didn’t surprise her, given the display Ventyr had shown those ape-men earlier that night. She would have given her friend a wide berth as well if she weren’t stuck with him to maintain the ridiculous contract she’d gotten herself roped into. She wasn’t afraid of Ventyr, she told herself. There was no reason to be, whatever his wizard powers might be capable of. Still she cast him more than a few wary glances as he climbed into his own blankets and faded into sleep. She cast Minkus a few looks as well, not warily, but all too aware of the heat rising in her cheeks. She wasn’t angry; Penny Arkayd wouldn’t be. There was no need to be. Minkus hadn’t done anything unusual. Bailing to save their own asses was what all people did eventually, so she reasoned there was nothing to be bothered by. Nothing. She wasn’t angry at him, and she certainly wasn’t angry at herself. Or so she repeated internally with each gulp of blood whiskey she drained from her cold, steel flask.

Eventually the others woke and began their morning chores: teardown, breakfast preparation, and packing. As the others worked, Jinkke used the waypoint to report to the College of Synergetics; Rata Sum’s peacemakers would have to defend these waypoints. It wasn’t their party’s issue, and they had places to be.

Jinkke returned—though Penny would have preferred she hadn’t—and all else had been done. The group was once again on their way, starting out across the Priory Bridge.

One of the longest on the continent, the bridge spanned the four-mile width of Mistriven Gorge’s southern end, leading right up to the small encampment at the base of the mountain that housed the Durmand Priory. How it held together across such a gap was anyone’s guess, a testament to the exceptional skills of stonework and magic in ages gone by. After walking half the width of Kryta and beyond, though, most sights quickly fell into the background as far as Penny was concerned, even this bridge and the jagged series of snow-coated rises and dells that spanned the length of the fifteen-mile gorge a thousand feet below them.

As she’d done most of the morning, Penny gravitated to Skixx, letting Ventyr lead with the genius queen hot on his heels and Minkus bringing up the rear somewhere behind. She looked over her shoulder once or twice to see Minkus bob along as usual, gaping giddily at everything around him, and she gritted her teeth again, quickly looking back at the asura beside her, who was still talking. “—but the real trick is always keeping all three metals in proper balance throughout the smelting process. If a person can do that, he can do anything.”

“Right,” she said absently.

Skixx looked at her from the corner of his eye, pausing the thought she hadn’t been paying attention to anyway. Really, Penny barely even noticed him do that. “You appear preoccupied by something,” he observed.

She shook her head. “No, it’s just—” Quickly she changed her mind, looking at him more intently and waving a hand behind them. “Look, am I the only one who saw what happened last night? I mean, have I lost my ghost-loving mind? Everyone else is just walking on like— I don’t even know, like—”

“Like the Sergeant didn’t instantly kill a sentient being without a moment’s consideration?” Skixx asked in a whisper. The two continued to walk, but his eyes met hers sharply. “No, you haven’t lost your ghost-loving mind.”

“Gods,” she sighed. “Good. I mean, I’m not afraid of him or anything. He’s still Vent. But shit, that was just crazy, and no one has even mentioned it.”

“I envy your trust in your friend,” Skixx quickly replied, looking ahead at the sylvari. “You’ve certainly known him longer than I have, but I don’t believe there’s anything illogical about holding a degree of fear at this point; I can’t say I’m not fearful. A person who holds such power and can turn so rapidly from talk of peace to murderous action.” He paused, raising his hands. “My apologies. I shouldn’t speak so disparagingly. He is your friend.”

“Yeah,” she said, sweeping a few strands of hair aside. “Murderous is a little dramatic, Moptop. The asshat monkeys were already attacking us when he toasted that guy.” Penny trailed off for a moment. “Still, he’s pretty damn powerful, more than I knew. I’m not even sure why he needs any of the rest of us.”

A voice suddenly broke in from behind them, bubbling over with awe. “How do you think they did that?” Before she’d even looked, Penny knew it was Minkus. For a moment she said nothing but finally gave in.

“Did what?” she asked with a sigh.

He slid in between them and pointed up and ahead. “That.”

Ahead, crowning the mountain that held their destination, was an enormous black monolith. Still at least two miles away, the geometric spire split the clouds overhead, rising higher than the mountain itself.

“It’s so—” Minkus’ words fell off, though his eyes remained wide. “It’s just amazing. I can’t get over how big it is! how do you think they made it?” He paused for only a moment before babbling on. “Maybe they got the help of the dwarves. The stories say dwarves were great stone-crafters. But— were they still alive? I don’t know. How do you think they did it, Penny?”

She eyed him sidelong, continuing her pace. With a sour smirk, Skixx patted her arm and walked on ahead. “I think I’ll leave you to it,” he said as he strode away.

Penny put a hand to her forehead. She could feel her jaw tighten. “I don’t know, Minkus,” she said, pausing only a moment before settling into a colder tone and increasing her speed. “I don’t know, and surprisingly I don’t care.”

For a moment, she pulled ahead of him. After a few seconds, though, he caught up once more, now keeping pace with her, though the length of their strides were very different. She only saw him from the corner of her eye, not turning to give her full attention.

“Penny?” He asked slowly. The wonder in his voice was gone. “Are you upset?”

She sped up again, but he matched her speed.

“I mean,” he continued, finding his words as he bounded along beside her, “are you upset— about yesterday?”

Clearly not escaping him, she slowed down, rubbing her chin in mock thought. “Yesterday? No, Biggie. Nothing about yesterday upset me. The world keeps working the way it always has.”

“Are you sure?” he asked again. She finally looked down at him, still moving across the age-worn stones that composed the bridge. His eyes were full and his big ears downturned. “Because,” he went on, “you don’t sound like you’re alright. If it’s not me, I’d like to know what’s bothering—”

All at once, the words began flowing from Penny’s mouth, and she didn’t care. Minkus wanted her answer, so he was going to get it.

“Fine, Minkus. I’m upset, and here’s why: my chicken-shit, magic-powered friend ducked behind a rock in the middle of a fight, leaving me— leaving us on our own. Then you followed your little sister around like a lost puppy when I told you what a chicken-shit you were.” She looked down at him scornfully. “There. You happy? That’s what upset me.”

Minkus took a step away from her and stopped. His hand instinctively went to his ear. “Oh. I— I’m—“

Penny stopped as well, crossing her arms. She leaned toward him, mockery meeting her anger. “You— you what? I can’t hear you.”

“I—” He seemed to curl in on himself. “I’m sorry. Jinkke and I— we— I did put up the—“

“Yeah, your little magic wall thing,” Penny interrupted. “I saw it. It saved our skin for a second, but it wouldn’t have lasted forever. Sure, Carrot-stick handled everything, but what if he hadn’t? Were you just going to sit behind that rock and let us all suck on arrows while you waited for the trouble to pass?”

“No—” he tried to object. A tear welled in his eye. “I’d never—”

“Yeah, Biggie, go ahead and cry about it. Your sister’s the reason we got into that grawl mess at all, but you protect her and leave the rest of us to fend for ourselves?”

“He has nothing to apologize for,” Jinkke broke in, physically stepping between the two. Ventyr and Skixx had continued on ahead of them, and neither Minkus nor Penny had paid any attention to the little female intentionally walking back toward them. Now just a foot in front of the human, Jinkke stared up at her. “He didn’t do anything wrong. And I told you last night: he didn’t hide himself. I hid him. If you have accusations against someone, bring them against me.”

“Jinkke,” Minkus said meekly, touching her shoulder. “I can—“

“No.” She addressed him over her shoulder. “Big Brother, go join the others. The human and I need to discuss.”

“But Jinkke—”

“Go,” she repeated, now looking at Penny, not her brother.

Slowly at first, he obeyed, walking away. He looked over his shoulder a few times as he went.

Jinkke crossed her arms in near imitation of Penny and held her position far too close for the woman’s comfort. “You don’t seem to listen,” she said. “I made him hide behind that boulder. He tried to argue, but I was right, and he knows it. It’s absurd he’s even in this contractual arrangement to begin with. There is nothing my brother could do to aid you, though somehow none of you recognize that. And now you’ve gotten it in his head that he’s some kind of traveling champion. It’s the fortune of the Alchemy that I found him when I did. All your foolhardy encouragement is going to get him is a premature demise, and as his only sibling, I refuse to allow such a thing to happen. It has always been and will always be my responsibility to protect him.”

Over her crossed arms, Penny could only just see the asura’s eyes peeking up at her. She blinked hard. “What in Grenth’s green ass are you talking about? Minkus doesn’t need you protecting him. He’s no champion, but he’s bigger than you and stronger than both of us. The guy is a damn magic-wielder for crying out loud.”

Jinkke held her head for a moment, letting the silence linger. “Oh please, bookah. Don’t tell me you give credence to his stories of the human who taught him ‘magic.’ Obviously the man was a charlatan selling krait oil to get my brother’s money.”

Penny scowled, tightening her crossed arms further into her chest. “He said the guy hired him on, housed him, and paid him. Doesn’t sound like a very good conman to me.”

“Work, money, it’s all the same,” Jinkke huffed. “In the end, he got something from it. That is the point.”

“That’s the dumbest—” Penny trailed off, putting a hand to her forehead before snapping both arms to her sides. “But Biggie actually does magic! You saw it last night when that arrow bounced off his gods-damned face.”

The little asura turned half away, shaking her head. “I don’t know what all this blathering about magic is, but my brother has never had any such abilities. That ricochet was just a freak accident. Even if he did practice any magic, it wouldn’t matter. The fact that he’s—“

Jinkke stopped. The tightness in her brow and lips dissipated into a sudden curiosity resembling her brother’s wonder. “You don’t know, do you?”

Penny threw her hands up. “Gods. What are you talking about now?”

Mumbling to herself, Jinkke turned and walked away to gaze off into the gorge. For a moment, she was little more than a silhouette to Penny’s eye, barely a bump rising above the wall at the side of the bridge. The clouds overhead diffused most of the sunlight, but the thick layer of snow covering everything in the distance beyond the bridge still proved bright enough to dim her details beyond recognition. Penny shook her head, standing there watching the silhouetted hands and ears of the little figure bob as she talked to herself.

“Of course.” Jinkke’s chittering grew louder. “Big Brother would have empathized enough to recognize it, but I didn’t. I missed it entirely. I gave them all too much credit. It’s my own fault.” A shadowed hand rose to her head.

Not entirely sure why, Penny took a step toward her. “Is this a thing with you people? Do you practice being snotty and confusing, or does it just come naturally?”

Jinkke spun back around, discovery’s light in her eye. “You don’t know because he’s on your level. You’re human; you understand him.”

“Understand him?” Penny asked. Thoughts crossed her mind, but she didn’t like them. Still, they were true, so she spoke. “Most of the time I like him, I guess, but I don’t understand him any more than I understand you.”

Jinkke waved her hand in correction. “No, no. Not like that. I mean that you’re on a common level with him, cognitively. The differences are simply cultural and personal. But other than that, you’re the same. Entirely the same.”

Penny knelt down and grabbed Jinkke by the shoulders. “What the hell are you talking about?”

The asura just looked at her, calmly, almost sympathetically. The others were quite a distance ahead now, far out of earshot, and the words came slowly out of the asura. “Minkus is neurologically— atypical.”

“Pardon me?”

“Neurologically atypical,” Jinkke repeated.

“Yeah,” Penny said. “I heard the words the first time. What do they mean?”

“Intellectually speaking, he’s stunted. Quite stunted. It was an incredibly rare birth defect, one there was and still is no scientific cure for. Compared to every one of his peers, he’s been behind since the moment he was born.” She paused, seeming to dredge up the words. “In some ways, he’s been increasingly behind as time has gone on. It’s— it’s just the circumstance we have to persist through.”

Penny stared at her for a moment. Her grasp loosened, and she stood up, stepping away from the little person with a dismissive wave and continuing on across the bridge. “That’s it. I don’t know what you’re on about, but I’m done with this. You asura are all insane.”

“No,” Jinkke said, jogging to catch up. Her tone wasn’t combative anymore. “I understand it now. It makes perfect sense! You’re a human, so naturally, your intellect is similarly inferior to the average asura—“

“Oh, now we’re on to flattery.” Penny rolled her eyes but didn’t look at the little figure hopping to keep up.

“No, no,” Jinkke argued. “You misunderstand me. It’s not an insult. It’s a fact.”

“Oh, good. I’m glad it’s a fact that I’m an idiot.” She stopped again. “If Biggie’s so damn stunted, how did he finish your fancy asura school?”

Jinkke stopped, leaning away from Penny and blinking repeatedly.

“No answer, huh?” Penny asked. “Look whose intellect is inferior now.”

“The colleges aside,” Jinkke finally continued, clearing her throat, “your similar intellect is precisely why you were unaware of my brother’s handicap.” She paused, straining to express her thoughts. “How do I put this? Minkus— he’s like you. Your cognitive skills are at a standard human level, perhaps slightly above. Minkus’ cognition is dramatically low for an asura but relatively comparable to a human.  If he were a normal asura, he’d be as intellectually distant from you as I am, but he isn’t. That’s why you perceive him as an equal instead of recognizing how much care he actually needs.” She stopped, gazing at Penny as if waiting for a bean to sprout. “Do you see? Do you understand now?”

Penny finally stopped walking and turned, planting her feet into the stone bridge and kneeling again. “Look.” She jabbed Jinkke  in the chest with a forefinger. “It doesn’t take the over-inflated mind of a big-eared, small-bodied know-it-all to figure out what you’re saying. You’re smart, your brother’s dumb, and so am I. Whatever. I don’t care. I get by fine on my own, however stupidly human I might be, and so can he. He doesn’t need you hovering over him and wiping his nose all the time. Look at him.” She pointed at the bulky, flopping shape in the distance. “However dumb you think he is, he’s made it years without you. Years. He works hard, makes his wages, and stops explosions with sparkly walls of magic stuff. Seems pretty independent to me.”

They stared at each other for a moment, Penny not entirely sure what had just happened or why. She straightened herself and smoothed out her coat. “Point is,” she said, taking a colder tone again, “Biggie should have been there helping us.”

“You shouldn’t call him that,” Jinkke replied flatly as they started walking again. The two moved on along the bridge in silence, Penny leading and Jinkke trailing behind.

Penny looked ahead again at Minkus. His squat yet oversized frame still seemed to bounce along the bridge, though even she could see a certain weightiness to his movements that was foreign to her. She replayed the words: Intellectually speaking, he’s stunted. It was ridiculous. Of course it was.