Chapter 20.1: Bare Feet, Dirty Hands
Passing down and out of the Shiverpeaks was all it took to turn what had seemed like perpetual winter into the early summer Skixx knew he should have been experiencing all along. He’d trudged through that horrid landscape for days, simply for the sake of this mission. In hindsight it was something he’d certainly do over again, knowing what he knew now, but along that trek, he’d met people who lived in those mountains year-round. Why anyone would live at such an idiotic altitude was beyond him.
Their course down out of the Shiverpeaks had presented a stark change in climate. That buffoon Minkus had made the remark as they descended the foothills, but there was no denying he was right: it was as if they’d passed through an invisible wall that separated the frigid winds of the western Shiverpeaks from the tepid humidity of the shoreline down below. One by one the group had stripped off the layers of clothing they’d accumulated to keep the chill at bay.
Eventually, to Skixx’s relief, they came far enough down into the Portage Hills that he could, at long last, remove his boots and walk once more in his bare feet. The hills were high enough to be well out of the tide but close enough to the bay that they exhibited a similar climate to that of the marshy tideflats just to the south. The air wasn’t thick, per se, at least not in any way that resembled the beautifully sweltering summers of the Tarnished Coast, but even as the air cooled into the night, Skixx could feel the moisture against his exposed arms and legs. Having stuffed his boots in his bag, and planning to keep them there indefinitely, Skixx spent all that night with bare toes, finally enjoying an atmosphere that reminded him of home as the group settled into the traveler’s bunks at the Lionsguard’s Marshwatch Haven.
The next morning, Skixx remained barefoot, enjoying it all the more as the rising sun crested those detestable mountains and warmed his feet. He sat at the foot of one of the fort’s southern ramps and wiggled his six toes in the cool, morning breeze before standing again and digging them into the loose soil of the Portage Hills. He tried to suppress his juvenile appreciation of it, but he couldn’t. Instead he reasoned that it wasn’t juvenile as much as it was characteristically, culturally asuran to enjoy such a thing. Skixx huffed, nodding his approval at that conclusion.
Perhaps twenty yards to his right stood the imbecile, Minkus the Large. He too was barefoot, and he seemed to be similarly digging his toes in the earth as he stared out across the marshes with that idiotic grin dressing the corner of his face. Yes, Skixx thought with a sneer, it must only be cultural.
His mind drifted back to the task at hand as he continued glaring at Minkus.
The large one posed something of a threat to his plan but only because of his magical abilities and that bit of combat training he’d apparently received; it was certainly not in his wit. Even those skills, though, weren’t anything Skixx believed he couldn’t handle, were it not for his mandate to avoid confrontation. It was no matter. Skixx had a vial of sedation elixir with that one’s name on it. That would negate that threat. He nodded to himself and shifted his gaze back up toward the haven.
On the lower landing of the wind-smoothed, sandstone fort were two of the other travelers he was nearly free of. Arkayd and Jinkke had been looking over the provisions and wares of the haven’s two traders for far too long, mumbling about prices and other such nonsense as they handled various trinkets. Skixx paid no attention to what they found so engaging. It didn’t matter. What did matter, the thought he kept returning to with such a satisfied grin, was how well the previous day had gone. It had been so easy. He could have told this lot any story, and he was certain they would have believed it, but at the moment the fools still believed he was a professional metallurgist and had actually conducted some manner of business in that backwater shell of a town in the Shiverpeaks.
In all reality, he’d never even heard of Bouldermouth prior to their stop at the Durmand Priory, but once they’d arrived in the village, his scheme was stunningly simple. He’d found the local pub, selected a random norn out of the crowd, and pretended to have a business transaction while purchasing the oaf a couple of drink. Why the enormous brutes were so interested in alcohol just after first light, he had no idea, but a half-hour later, he’d shaken hands with the imbecile and returned to the others under the narrative that his transaction was complete. An utterly inconsequential cost had done the trick.
Regaining his focus on the world and people currently around him, Skixx noticed Ventyr and Yissa stepping out of a doorway and headed in the direction of the human and the sister. He ascended the ramp to join them.
“Well, of course,” he heard Jinkke affirm, speaking still to the human, “There is indeed a fine equilibrium to be struck between the strength and density of a metal. If strength is of prime importance, but you select a metal so dense as to be heavy beyond the load-bearing capacity of either its weld points or mounting hardware, your construction will have a lesser lifespan than if you’d simply selected a material of lesser density and thus lighter weight.”
Penny stared at her curiously, a pistol held in one of her hands. It wasn’t her usual one.
“Are you following my assertion?” Jinkke asked. Gazing up uncertainly at the human.
Penny seemed to snap awake. “Yeah, of course I am,” she said, crossing her arms. “It’s not hard to understand.”
“Then what’s the matter?”
Penny cocked her head, raising a thoughtful finger to her chin. “It’s just— didn’t you have some sort of coughing thing a few days ago? Biggie was pretty upset by it, and you couldn’t go a few minutes without sounding like an old man.”
Skixx was now standing beside Jinkke, who clearly frowned at the human’s interpretation of her illness. “Yes, thank you,” Jinkke replied curtly. “I do have a yet undiagnosed chronic lung infection. I am sorry its symptoms are so inconvenient for you.”
Penny rolled her eyes. “A little sensitive are we?” Uncrossing her arms, she slipped one of the vendors a few coins and stuffed the pistol she’d been holding into her empty holster.
Skixx’s gaze lingered on the vendor. The amount the human exchanged for the weapon seemed high, but that wasn’t what held his focus. There was another thought there, just out of reach.
The human went on talking. “I just haven’t heard you cough lately, OK? That’s all I mean.” She met Jinkke’s eyes again before turning and stepping away.
The blonde female blinked, watching Penny leave and processing something. As she opened her mouth to speak, the sylvari, now just behind her, interrupted. “Don’t overburden yourselves with supplies. Tomorrow evening will find us at last in Lion’s Arch. We only need enough for today and tomorrow.”
Penny stopped, turning back to the vigilman. Jinkke did likewise. She still looked thoughtful as she lifted her bag from the ground.
With subtle nods of his head, Ventyr visually counted the party. Skixx tracked the counts: one, two, three, four— and the sylvari began looking around. “Where is—?” He cut himself off, shouting out across the hillside before finishing his own question. “Minkus!” He called. The figure at the edge of the hill reacted quickly, turning with a slight hop and coming toward the ramp, his pack already strapped to his shoulders. The rest of the group struck out toward him as well, behind Ventyr’s lead. They met, continuing up the grassy hill and around the corner of the haven toward the road.
Skixx followed but still found himself looking back over his shoulder toward the vendors, though he could no longer see them around the edge of the stone fort. The thought finally came clear to him as he turned to face forward once more. He’d known for some time how to snare the human, and that would be entirely sufficient on its own. However, planting suspicion in the others could only help his objective and his escape, and that he now knew how to accomplish.
Skixx hid an oily grin from the others. Planting suspicion would certainly be beneficial, but it would also be fun.
