Chapter 135: Servant of the Axe, 35 – Cost of Success

Servant of the Axe

Chapter 35

Cost of Success

Even with biomass from the feed the livestock no longer needed, I was feverish for the entire trip back. There were tales of black blood, and diarrhea, and of eating anything used to muffle my screams.

My eyes were especially susceptible to the light. “Has... has someone been boiling me?” I asked.

“He’s still feverish.” An unknown woman said.

But when I recovered after four days of careful treatment and healing potions, my skin was peeling, revealing scales of hunter’s green beneath. Even with normal scent, I could tell I was laying in my own filth.

.....

I bundled up the bedsheets, and set about looking for food. The first door I tried led outdoors, the sea gently lapping at the nearby shore. I wiped myself clean in the shallows, scouring my itching skin with sand.

My health was far too low, I was suffering from something called anemia (yes, I know NOW what that is), dehydration (I took several gulps of seawater to start fixing that), and my heartbeat was both too fast and too loud.

From the mansion, a woman beckoned to me. I recognized neither her nor her language.

I felt ... annoyed. What had I been doing, again? Why? I remembered it was something important.

[You are infected with taint. You have zero points of taint. Your taint is currently under control.]

Huh? Why was my system worried about that? It was bad, but it was at zero. Zero bads was a good thing, right?

The woman came to the shore, beckoning again.

Who was she? I poured seawater over my head.

I had a vague sensation of dislike, but couldn’t pin it down to any reason to ignore her. She led me back into my room, and sat me down in a chair while she fetched clean sheets, put some under and others above me, made certain my external door was closed and locked, and then she left, taking the candle with her.

I blinked, queuing up the twenty minute transformation that let me see by the moonlight filtering in through the curtains.

The room was hardly spartan, featuring a standing wardrobe and a set of drawers with a half-mirror. They were made to a larger scale than I was, so clearly this was not my room.

Or... was I still growing? That seemed to feel right.

But why couldn’t I think clearly?

[Serious Injury: Brain Damage]

Yeah, thanks, system. Okay, so whatever a brain was, I just wouldn’t walk on it until it healed.

Okay, so brain rhymes with pain... No, that wouldn’t work. My skin sounded nothing like itch, and come to think of it no amount of scratching was making it feel better.

My stomach growled. Okay, I needed food. That also seemed right.

Okay, the other door... was locked.

Hrm... okay, beneath the lock was a vertical bar. Why did I care?

It didn’t depress; trying to lift it just caused it to rotate...

CLUNK!

With a turn of the doorknob, I was loose inside the house.

Moving on all fours to keep my flickering tongue close to the smells of the carpet, I began my hunt.

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I triggered the changes to the spine and limbs that would make four legged movement easier. Why had I ever chosen otherwise?

Oh! Oh, that was pain! I stopped the transformation, and told it to go back.

When I uncurled myself, there was a four legged creature, dark of fur and smaller than me in size.

The cat fled, and I gave chase. I lost it, briefly, in an intersection that smelled of lye.

I found it in a stone-tiled room, far above me on the counter. Fool! Pressing myself against the side, I forced myself back onto two legs.

Now... now the cat was no longer on the counter.

And... I smelled food! Right behind that door.

Slobbering and growling, I made my way to the pantry.

That was where they found me in the morning, wrapped around the remains of what had been a burlap bag of potatoes, incriminating strips of brown wedged between my teeth.

Two nights later, restrained to the bed by a light steel chain (I’d eaten the rope of the previous night), I retained enough memory to realize what a pain I’d been.

I should probably apologize. But first ... food.

There was a handful of straw! I could smell it, enticing...

But there was also her smell. Someone... Someone I cared for. Enough not to eat her, anyway.

But that straw... I moved my head as close as I could, and reached out with my tongue. Okay, that wasn’t going to work. Maybe there was something I could do with my tongue?

There were evolutions there, but I didn’t have the biomass to fix them. Where was my biomass going?

[Severe injury: Brain damage (accelerated healing)]

Thank you, System! Same thing as earlier... wasn’t it?

historical

But, having nothing else to do, I should just...

[Due to extensive brain damage, you cannot engage abilities, spells, or effects.]

I cannot engage... Engage? I didn’t want to MARRY that spell, I wanted to cast it! Whatever, I was going to roll over... Okay, NOT roll over and just go to sleep.

When fed, I ate whatever was placed within reach. Every so often, one or another being would come into my room and make random-seeming noises. Uh, language.

I seemed to have any number of women, but at least five, who cared for me during that time. None of them appreciated being snapped at, and I gradually learned the words for “food” and “water”.

And yes, that was an embarrassment later, when more words, and how to use them, returned to me.

Gradually, I earned trust again. Plus, they really did want me going to the outhouse rather than just whenever the mood took me.

And then I remembered the name “Kismet.”

“Awagh! What was that for?”

“That was for making me worry.”

Someone hit me in my other eye.

“And that is for making ME worry.”

“Wife! You weren’t ... Awagh!”

And there, doing a dance of victory on my chest, was a monkey.

#

I reached out to grab it by the neck, but it was far too quick for me.

[Serious injury: nerve damage (accelerated healing)]

“I told you ...”

“You told me you weren’t buying me a monkey. And that’s fine. You didn’t forbid me to purchase one for myself.”

“She told us you didn’t mind.” Kismet explained.

“I told you to tell me if you objected.” Madonna said. “Have I done wrong? Am I to be punished?”

“Once I heal enough, yes, there will be punishment for this. What is the status of the expedition to Mendez island? How long do we have until storm season?”

“Uhm. You’ve been ... gone... for a couple of weeks, Rhishi. Governor gave us his son’s weight in lapis, Gamilla’s collected on that and has every goldsmith or silversmith in the city just making them into jewelry for her.”

“Madonna, show me the knife.”

“Which knife?”

“Rhishi, there was no knife. We checked.”

“Blacksoul Madonna, by our pact, I command you; either show me the knife RIGHT NOW or return to the hell that spawned you.”

“Wait! Wait! It’s upstairs in my room!”

“Two minutes, go!”

She bolted out of the room like a flaming monkey was chasing her.

“That lying bitch!”

.....

“Don’t be too hard on her, Kismet. It’s in her nature.”

“No.”

“Beg pardon?”

“No, Rhishi. I’ve seen YOUR true nature.”

I folded my arms across my chest. “I don’t think traumatic head wounds should count.”

“I’m not talking about that! You had us WATCH, while you were RIPPED OPEN and EATEN! You BOOB!”

“I’m sorry?”

“And you’ll never do it again?”

“I didn’t want to do it the first time!”

“But you DID! Now I want to hear you swear, you’ll never do that again.”

“I’ll never make you watch that again.”

“Gods... You really think you might have to.”

“Until my seventh birthday, I’m sworn to the service of Rakkal. Unless he sells that service, which he’d be a fool to do. Wait, is the monkey here?”

“Right there.” She said.

I pressed the palms of my hands to my eyes. “Detect Taint!”

He was running for cover, but I still saw him. “I thought so.”

“You thought WHAT?” Kismet demanded.

“She’s either using the monkey as a repository for spare taint, or she’s summoned a demon into it. Come forth, minor devil, if you dare.”

The monkey swaggered around the edge of the wardrobe, bandy legged and proud. He took the tiny admiral’s hat in one hand, and performed an actor’s bow.

“Lord Dimmihammas, forty-seventh son of the Pyre Witch, at your service... or more properly speaking, your wife’s service.”

Madonna stormed into the room at that moment, throwing the knife to him.

“Now, Dimmihammas! Kill my husband!”

“So sorry, dear chap. Chiichiichii!” and with that, he leapt straight for my heart, wielding the obsidian knife with more taint than he himself had.

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