Alex Reynard
The Library
Alex Reynard's Online Books
Chapter 73
The cliff loomed ahead and above, seemingly endless. An aloof, sunset-orange barrier between Phobiopolis' badlands and the ocean of the dead. Scarlatina was a tiny speck of habitation nestled in between. The settlers had started with a pile of car parts and a beach wide enough to build on. Then, together, they had carved out a village. Proof that determined souls could squeeze out a life anywhere. Scarlatina was a blade of grass growing up from a sidewalk crack.
L'roon had offered to let him ride atop the cart, but Toby preferred to walk. The rhythm of his steps was hypnotic: something to distract him from all he was leaving. After that last moment of joy with Skeeto, he forced himself not to look back again. Even now that he was a mile or so past the edge of town, his muscles still wanted to pick him up and send him scampering back as fast as he could.
It was hard work keeping his feet moving and his face a stone. Inside, Toby felt like a rattling broken toy in a high wind. A plush mouse with ripped seams and spilled stuffing. He was leaving love to return to pain. He didn't think he'd ever felt so small.
Though he wasn't really alone. L'roon would be with him all the way to Lalochezia. And the merchant was plenty tough enough to protect them both until Toby could handle his hammer again. That wasn't what he was really worried about though. L'roon was charming, companionable, and could even be kind. Yet Toby knew the merchant's only permanent loyalty was to himself. He would help Toby so long as it cost him nothing. And at some point, they would inevitably part ways.
'But by then I'll have George back, right?' He tried to reassure himself, but he knew the answer was only 'maybe'. It felt like being on a trapeze, thrown from one furson's arms to be caught in another's. He dreaded the moment when he'd be sailing across the void all by himself, even if it only lasted moments.
Because in truth, despite the warm voice's pep talk last night, he knew that mere endurance didn't make him anything special. It didn't make him a hero. Or a fighter. Or a rescuer. Certainly not a strategist. His mind was still a blank regarding what to do when he reached Scaphis. He knew one thing at least: if he rushed at her with weapons drawn like a charging knight in a fairy tale, he would die. Horrifically. She would shred him. Life had taught him that Good doesn't automatically win over Evil just by virtue of being Good. In reality, no one was a protagonist with an author watching over them, and dumbing down the baddies so the good guys could come out on top. In reality, evil often had the advantage. People like that screwy-eyed muskrat, who got away with their cruel games until people like Luxy made them stop.
'People like us, you mean,' his inner voice corrected him. 'What's-His-Name never would have spent a day in court if it wasn't for Zinc and George and Junella and Piffle... and you.'
Toby looked down at the pebble-strewn ground and clenched his fists. It was true, but he almost didn't want to feel cheered-up just yet. That last moment with Skeeto had been perfect and magical. But it seemed to have used up his last few drops of happy. If he was sliding down into a monumental funk of pessimism now, he thought he might as well just let it happen and get it over with.
'Or, heck, I dunno, maybe you could use this time for planning? Just a thought.'
Despite his pouting, he smirked briefly at how sarcastic his inner voice could get.
And it had a point. There was no reason he couldn't feel powerless and terrified while also using his brains. Because he'd realized already, his only hope was out-thinking her. Scaphis had aptly demonstrated her power. He'd been traveling with a deadly bodyguard, a tough-as-nails brawler, a demigod of optimism, and the world's smartest nightmare. Scaphis had ended them in seconds. A mere touch was all it took. So Toby knew that, whatever plan he came up with, if she ran into him first, it was instant game over. L'roon had described the tidal waves of plastic flesh that had been coursing across the badlands, gobbling up dozens of panicked Phobiopolans in blitzkrieg attacks. A town called Papilloma was a confirmed casualty. Half its inhabitants had been absorbed into the invading mass, the rest sent fleeing with only the clothes on their backs. Scaphis was quick, she was strong, she was devastatingly powerful. Against all that, the simplest idea seemed to be, find wherever she'd taken his friends, then sneak in and get the fuck out. As much as Toby hated Scaphis, he'd gladly avoid confronting her if that was at all possible. His top priority was his friends.
A poisonous little feeling fluttered in his gut whenever he thought about them. Specifically, the possibility that they were someplace beyond saving. And as much as that possibility wanted to rise up inside and overwhelm him, Toby wouldn't let it. He forced himself to ignore plausibility. He was certain they could be rescued. He was certain because he had to be. The fact that their predicament was unknown didn't matter, because saving them was the only thought that could keep him moving forward. Even with all the pain he'd suffered, his heart was not yet cold enough for revenge alone to motivate him.
'Though... what if I do have to fight her? What if she doesn't give me a choice?'
The question seemed daunting. Until it was answered with a single hyphenated name: Gilla-Gilla.
The porcupine had fought with angled blades, but most of his violence was carried out automatically. The napalm-spraying nozzles were hidden below the soil until an enemy approached. Then, surprise!
Toby thought that if a furson happened to be a small, skinny, terrified mouse, ambush was a pretty good combat strategy.
'How though? I need specifics.'
None came to mind.
"You're much less talkative than yesterday."
The voice startled Toby. He'd completely forgotten he was walking beside a question-mark-shaped many-legged behemoth. L'roon peered down at him from behind his yellow sunglasses.
"I..." Toby really didn't know what to say.
L'roon retrieved some peanuts from his pocket and munched them. "It would be no terrible loss to spend the rest of the trip in silence. After all, I always have. But I had hoped not to this time."
Toby kicked a rock away. "I'm sorry. I just... It's weighing on me what I have to do. I'm trying to plan for it, but I keep getting stuck on how insurmountable everything is. Plus... I guess I'm still kind of a wreck from leaving my family." He touched the ribbon on his arm. He traced his fingers around the piercings that held it to his skin. He felt as if, instead of taking something from Scarlatina, the ribbon meant he'd left a part of himself behind.
The day before, L'roon hadn't asked much about that. He knew when a living souls' experience was beyond his capacity to empathize with, and so he practiced discretion. It was enough to infer that the mouse had been lost, then found, and his own arrival in town had torn Toby away again. "If it brings any solace, I apologize again for interrupting your happiness."
"Don't," Toby said. "For one, you couldn't have known. For two, I'm glad I remembered the truth, no matter what it costs me. I had friends. I had people I cared about, and they cared about me. If I stayed, then they'd be left to rot in whatever hell Scaphis has made for them. My happiness doesn't outweigh that."
A momentary silence. L'roon listened to the squeak of his cart's wheels, the jangle of trinkets dangling from the sides, and his own many footsteps. Toby had his hands in his pockets, his posture stiff as a fencepost. Finally L'roon said, "You are much more selfless than I am."
Toby looked up briefly. "Thank you."
"I do not share your values, nor would I choose to. But I can admire them in someone else."
"That's kind of you to say."
L'roon laughed; a short 'ha' that reminded Toby of Gilla-Gilla. "I have rarely been called 'kind' by anyone." He smirked. "More commonly things like, 'you cheap thieving bastard'."
Toby couldn't help a tiny snicker.
That was better. L'roon acknowledged that his overall motivation was to derive as much enjoyable conversation from this mouse as he could. But in keeping with his love of mutually-beneficial transactions, if he could lift his fellow traveler's spirits in the process, that would be the best of outcomes.
Toby did feel his internal fog thin a bit, but now he couldn't remember what train of thought he'd been on. And he also couldn't think of anything more to discuss with L'roon. "Um..." He searched around for topics. An obvious one was their destination. "Where exactly is Lalochezia, and what's it like there?"
The construct pointed. "It lies about four days' walk to our east. Three, if we skip Dysania. I am fairly confident you would prefer to never again lay eyes upon it."
"If you mean that laundry soap desert, absolutely!" He reflexively spat on the ground to get the memory out of his mouth.
A chuckle. "The market town is much nicer. Noisier though."
"The market town?" He blinked. "I thought I'd heard 'Lalochezia' before! That's where my friends went after I got lost in the tub."
"Exactly so," L'roon replied, then smiled wistfully. "It is always my destination after Scarlatina. Such good trade! In one place I acquire novelties and necessities from the outside world, then in the other I am repaid in scavenged treasures and sought-after handcrafts. It is a perfect cycle. And I am lucky to have a monopoly on this route. If more of my colleagues knew about the city-by-the-sea, I wouldn't be able to charge so richly." His grin exposed all of his teeth.
Toby gave him a sideways look. "So, basically, you're taking advantage of everyone."
L'roon made a 'tsk-tsk' noise. "Not at all! Both sides are delighted when I come around. To the Scarlatins, I bring building materials, rare foods, all manner of liquids, etcetera. Then the market-goers hound me about, where do I find such fine claywork? Such a bounty of non-imaginite jewelry?" He spread his hands in a gesture of wholesomeness. "Now ask yourself: would I be such a fool as to spoil all that good will by making my prices too steep?" He shook his head. "Just enough so everyone feels it's fair."
Toby smiled wryly. "You're smart enough not to kill the golden goose."
"On the nose!" he cackled. "My favorite legend! Because its lesson is so wise. I keep my personal goose well-fed, but also well-hidden."
The peddler seemed to have it all under control. Toby thought that maybe L'roon was someone he could learn from. After all, if he really was serious about going up against Scaphis, the first step was admitting his limitations. He was a mouse without much natural guile, and L'roon was oozing with it. Maybe they could brainstorm.
The mouse hesitated to ask though, for fear of derisive laughter. Finally he just spat it out. "I'm... thinking of trying to save all my friends, not just George. I know Scaphis has them, and right now I don't have any ideas how to get them back." He winced, then added, "...Do you?"
A laugh, but not a cruel one. More at the unexpectedness of the question. "It is not something I spend my evenings thinking about. I steer away from conflict, not towards it."
"I know, but..." Toby wrung his tail between his paws. "You're smarter than me. I'll admit that. You're clever. And you know more about Phobiopolis. You can think strategically. Me, I've never even played chess."
L'roon guffawed at all the flattery. "Even so, I cannot draw a battle plan for you. All my cleverness resides in the realm of nonviolence. I've fought a few times, yes, but I prefer to run and plot unseen revenge for later."
"That's actually perfect," Toby said.
L'roon raised an eyebrow.
"I mean, look at me! I'm skinny as a popsicle stick. My fighting hand's crippled. I'm not gonna take her on in a full frontal assault. If I'm going to have any chance at winning, I'll have to do it through sheer sneakiness and pre-planning."
"Intelligent," L'roon acknowledged. "You hold no illusions about who and what you are. So then..." He finished off his current mouthful of pocket-peanuts, licked his teeth clean, then steepled two sets of fingertips and put on his 'let's get down to brass tacks' expression. "I can only be of help to the extent that I have information to work with. What do we know about the situation?"
"Not much," Toby admitted. "...By the way, can I have some peanuts too? Maybe eating will make me less nervous."
"They are on the house." L'roon poured him a double handful from a sack.
Toby noshed them fastidiously. Giving his hands and mouth something to do seemed to free up his brain-cogs. "The main thing is finding Scaphis. My friends will be wherever she is. I know Aldridge said she used to love throwing people in Dysphoria, but I have to hope she hasn't done that with them." He shook his head. "No: she made them into puppets just before she threw me off the mountain. She wants to keep them around to humiliate them and gloat over how she won. Plus, she knows we got through Dysphoria once. If I were her, I wouldn't throw them in, just from the worry they'd manage to crawl back out looking for revenge. Especially Junella!"
L'roon made a 'not bad' face. For someone who disparaged their lack of strategic thinking, the mouse was doing fine so far. "The first step may already be over," he said encouragingly. "All of the places her flesh has been seen radiate out from the mountain. She may never have left."
Toby was dumbstruck by the idea. Its plausibility multiplied the more he thought about it. "That makes sense! She hated Aldridge and his wife. She waited freakin' decades to get to them. Why wouldn't she take over their place and make it hers?" Another connection struck like a lightning bolt. He snapped his fingers. "Just like Luxy did to her with Ectopia!! That'd give her even more of a reason!"
And suddenly, Toby understood what she was doing. L'roon hadn't told him a ton, but it was enough to connect the dots. He spun around, trying to locate Anasarca beyond the cliffs. There! Faint but visible. "Holy hell..." His guess was confirmed with one look. The mountain's normal grey was corrupted with barely-perceptible streaks of beige.
Toby didn't notice when he spilled his peanuts all over his feet. "...She's growing herself! Like before when she spread herself across the walls, but bigger! She's had time to spread all the way down the mountain like a fungus. She's reaching out chunks of herself into the rest of the world, snatching up anyone she can find. She-"
Oh, it was so obvious.
His voice dropped to a stunned hush. "She's entombing them in plastic. Just like her curse. She's gonna make everyone suffer the way she suffered."
Toby knew it was insane to feel so certain about a wild extrapolation like that, but the idea pulsed in his skull like a neon sign. It fit. It fit everything he knew about her. Toby could never be as vicious, but he'd read plenty of stories with cruel-hearted villains. Enough to put himself in her shoes. "She was petty enough to torture my friends and make us watch. She was patient enough to wait for a chance to get back at the man who cursed her. I'll bet she spent all that time thinking, 'Ohhhhh boy, when I get out of this doll body, I'm gonna make 'em pay!' And she may not be out, but she's doing it anyway. That must have been a helluva spell Aldridge trapped her with! So, if she can't have her old body back, then she'll make everyone else in the world know what it feels like."
L'roon listened to all this with mounting respect for the boy. He'd come to the same conclusion weeks ago, but it had taken him much longer. "Your reasoning is sound, dear friend. If I were her, I would put all my effort into reversing my condition and getting back to a normal life. Ah, but a petty heart holds no reason. I have seen it in my own customers. Sometimes no matter what you offer, all they want is to give you a hard time, even if it ends up worse for them."
Toby heard maybe half of this. He had stunned himself by his realization, and now the fear was creeping back in again. Because, even if he succeeded in rescuing his friends, what then? Did he really think Scaphis was going to say, 'You tricked me, Toby! Oh well, fair's fair. Just run along now, you clever mouse.' Hell no! She'd chase him to the edge of the world and back. Her rage would blot out the sun. She'd never relent. No place in all of Phobiopolis would be safe. And she'd eradicate anyone who tried to shelter him.
The image came to mind: a wall of pinkish plastic surging over the cliff and engulfing all of Scarlatina. Everyone frozen in molten PVC. Skeeto. Tak and Kat. All his friends. All held prisoner in the constricting flesh of a sociopath.
Toby could not stop himself from looking back at the town. But he was too far away by now. All he could see was the sheer cliff face and the sea of bodies.
He reached up to hold his face in his hands. The enormity of his task kept growing bigger and bigger. Just when he thought he'd faced the full breadth of it, he saw further and realized he hadn't even come close. The weight was like being a ring-toss pole, and someone was throwing anchors. "I'm screwed..."
It was under his breath, but L'roon heard anyway. "Not necessarily. What happened to outwitting her?"
Toby's hands circled around in a gesture of futility. "I'd have to be thinking eighty bazillion steps ahead to even get close! And even then, she'll turn all her focus on me afterwards. I'd be hunted forever. It's beyond my imagination to even guess what someone that cruel would do to me if she caught me. And the more I think about it, the more the problems multiply. Even if she's still on Anasarca, that means I'd have to get myself there. That means another trip through Phlegmasia. AND Dysphoria. Gee, that'll be fun! Maybe I can just duct tape myself to George and have him run me through real fast. And that's still assuming I don't run into Logd-"
He had almost said the name.
The name of the Allfilth.
How had Toby possibly forgotten him!? The centerpiece of all this world's misery! The entity whose mere existence had driven him into suicidal numbness! How had the knowledge of such an abomination slipped Toby's mind!?
Well... actually it hadn't. Toby remembered his encounter with the floating space corpse just fine. He remembered its slit mouth and its soulless eyes. He remembered the bites its microbes had taken from him.
Looking down at himself now, he was amazed he'd regrown any of his former flesh. He was still pretty scrawny, yeah. But after Dysphoria, he hadn't even tried changing back from his pelt-draped-over-a-skeleton look. He'd assumed it was permanent. Eternally.
And yet it wasn't. Maybe Scarlatina had healed more than he realized.
After witnessing the Allfilth, he'd become something else. The knowledge of an unconquerable evil sleeping at the heart of the world had driven him mad. He had given up entirely. He had seen no point existing in a world where the Allfilth did too. This hopelessness had nearly sent him into the irreversible embrace of the oblivion door. And yet now... Now here he was, in full awareness of the same facts. And it wasn't destroying him. If anything, he was pissed off about it. Angered at the unfairness that Phobiopolis was tethered to that shit-covered monster and would never escape its noxious dreams. It disgusted him and saddened him, but it wasn't making him want to end it all.
'Maybe something came with me from Dysphoria. Maybe those big germs' bites were venomous. Like, they injected me with depression somehow?'
Or maybe it was far simpler. Maybe he'd been through a trauma so horrific, there was no other cure but time.
Maybe Scaphis had done him a favor. There was no way she'd chosen on purpose to send him to a friendly little seaside town, so it had to have been pure chance. Or maybe the same gravitational pull that sucked in bodies for the body sea. It spotted him and thought, 'ehh, close enough'. George too. And if Scarlatina wasn't just luck, then fate was alive and knew kindness. There was probably nothing in all of Phobiopolis that could have cured him from the Allfilth's toxicity better than a long, blank nap, and the healing love of family.
Toby looked up and noticed L'roon was glancing back at him inquisitively.
"I didn't want to interrupt your thought process," the merchant said. "From your myriad facial expressions, it seemed important."
"It was. And thank you," he said breathlessly. All the effort had been mental, but he felt exhausted anyway. He decided to be careful in what he revealed. If L'roon didn't know about the Allfilth, it'd be cruel as hell to tell him. "Something bad happened to me in Dysphoria."
L'roon nodded. "From what I have gathered, that is what it is for."
A bitter chuckle. "Yeah. But this was..." He shook his head. "The details don't matter. It hurt me. It... changed me. And I just now realized that I might actually be over it. Kinda couldn't believe it for a second."
L'roon had centuries of practice discerning when someone was withholding information, and the mouse was frankly terrible at hiding his inner feelings. Still, there was no reason to inquire further. He sensed this was not information that would bring him anything profitable.
Toby said nothing more for quite a while. He kept his head down, staring at the sand, licking salt off his lips.
"Did you still want to deliberate extraction plans?" L'roon asked.
"Wha? Oh. Sure, sure. I just..." He pinched his ear to force himself to focus. His mind had turned into TV static for a moment there. "Allright. What do we have so far? We're pretty sure Scaphis is on Anasarca. We're pretty sure we know why. We're entirely sure she'll roadkill me to the moon and back if she ever gets her hands on me. What else?"
L'roon shrugged with all five arms. "You are apparently in a better frame of mind than your previous meeting with her. That's something."
"Yes it is." He nodded thanks to the construct for pointing that out. Though, now that he thought back to his last moments in her presence, he'd actually been in the perfect frame of mind. He'd had all the fear and misery beaten right out of him. He'd been limp as a ragdoll and just as indifferent. If he'd screamed in rage and rushed at her, Scaphis would have torn him apart. Instead, his passiveness frustrated her. And she wasn't too pleased with what he'd left in her hand. He still couldn't believe he'd pooped on her.
"Let's look at any advantages I have." Toby began counting on his fingers. "She hasn't captured me yet. That's one. She probably doesn't even know I'm still alive."
L'roon could not help but interrupt. "Technically-"
"I know, I know! No one here is. I meant, like, as opposed to lost forever floating in space."
He nodded. "Mm. Yes."
Toby counted a third finger. "I'm relatively sane right now. And..." There had to be something else. "...I'm small," he realized. "Maybe that's a good thing. Maybe I can be like a bug, creeping under the door and up through the walls."
L'roon gestured in agreement. "In addition, if she's as hot-tempered as you say she is, she also may be easily distracted."
Toby nodded emphatically at that. He remembered how even Junella, a master of rage, had gotten herself boxed in by the convorines. "I know it won't be as simple as just ringing her doorbell and running off with my friends. But maybe I can be patient and wait for something else to distract her. Take advantage of that. I mean, look where patience got Scaphis."
"It is wise to observe your enemies' success, then steal their ideas."
Toby glanced at his stumpy hand. "Plus, I have a hammer. That's one thing she doesn't have."
L'roon grinned. "Always look on the bright side of life."
They shared a small chuckle, but Toby kept staring at his hand. "Though really, what good is my hammer gonna do against her? By now it's definitely a body part. One whack and I'm paralyzed." He recalled where they were going. "Would they have prosthetic hands in Lalochezia?"
An 'of course' shrug. "Scrounge around long enough in the market town and there isn't much you won't find."
"Good to hear." Just because Kat's well-meaning glove hadn't worked didn't mean something else wouldn't. If he didn't use it much, it might not have time to count as a part of him and he could strike at Scaphis without worry. Though this was assuming he'd ever be close enough to strike. Which his entire plan was to avoid happening. 'Maybe I can skip the robot hand idea.'
Though the idea of a barrier was still worth considering. If she couldn't touch him, she couldn't freeze him. Was there anything he could put on himself that would keep her away but still allow him to move? A suit of armor was right out. "Maybe some kind of plastic-melting chemical...?" he mused. Not a bad idea, but it'd have to go in the 'Plan B' pile. What might it do to Junella?
That was something else to keep in mind. Scaphis and Junella were both plastic. Could he remember if anything had been particularly effective or ineffective against his skunk companion? Didn't she say something once about not conducting electricity?
"You're being quiet again."
Toby jumped. "GAH! Sorry! I keep getting lost in my thoughts."
L'roon pretended to be offended. "I am not going to be very helpful in coming up with ideas if you don't share yours with me!"
"Right. Again, I apologize-"
"You do that frequently," the construct teased.
Toby returned a deadpan grin. "Sorry."
L'roon chortled.
"Okay, so I was thinking about a way to keep Scaphis from freezing me if I end up in her freeze range. I thought, maybe some kind of acid that eats plastic."
"Would that also harm your friend of vinyl?"
"Just what I was worried about! So I wouldn't want to douse my whole body in it. Maybe a spray? Like some kinda hose on my back or a-" He suddenly stopped in his tracks.
L'roon heard him and stopped too. He looked back. The mouse had become a snow sculpture. "Toby?"
The mouse's mouth was slightly open. His expression was not one of pain, but intense, disbelieving astonishment. "...I've got an idea," he breathed.
L'roon waited to hear it. He fished the last of the peanuts from his pocket and discarded a bit of lint.
Toby walked forward unconsciously. His whole mind was focused on the idea. Testing it. Tweaking it. Rolling it around and looking for holes. Flabbergasted that something so perfect had occurred to him. And without any effort! It seemed his subconscious had been hard at work problem-solving while his conscious self fretted and fidgeted.
The mouse put a paw on one of L'roon's wrists. "You sell potions, right?"
L'roon snickered. "And more. I make them too."
Toby lit up. "Even better!"
"You have some specific effect in mind?"
The mouse nodded. "Extremely specific." He began to lay out exactly what he wanted. Not caring whether the idea was plausible or even possible, just getting it out there. Even if L'roon knocked it down, it might be a springboard to something better.
As Toby went on, the peddler's expression changed from offense, to incredulity, to bemusement, to genuine curiosity. His multi-pupiled eyes stared down at the mouse. "It's never been done before. No one's ever had a reason to do anything like that before."
Toby fixed him with an insistent stare. "Yes, but can you?"
L'roon put a hand to his chest. "Me? Of course."
"Excellent!" he said with a grin.
L'roon stared off into the middle distance for a moment, internally riffling through his centuries-long index of potioncraft. The more he thought about the idea, the more possible it sounded. "It might even be simple," he mused. "Take Bottle A, smash it into Bottle B, and there you have it. But one never knows. Experimental chemistry is like blindfolded snake-handling. You may be bitten no matter how much you think you have prepared."
"I'm sure you'll figure it out," Toby said, thinking some flattery might help. "Will there be ingredients in Lalochezia?"
L'roon made a gesture of 'obviously'. "My usual supplier will have everything I could dream of needing, and he lets me borrow his workspace. But..." The construct's tone turned grave.
Toby felt a small stormcloud pass over him. "But what?"
The merchant's long, slender head turned to look Toby squarely in the eye. "You want me to cook up this fabulous new thing for you." He enunciated every syllable of his next question. "How Are You Planning To Pay For It?"
Toby hadn't thought of that. And felt foolish, considering he already knew the merchant's nature. "Um..."
The construct snorted, grinning sharkishly. "Ideas seem so very shiny in their moment of conception, don't they? But how many of them are lost to time because no one could finance them!" He giggled.
Toby hated to admit, that was probably very true.
L'roon giggled and patted his tummy. "Right now I am helping you because it benefits me as well. Conversation, after all, is something I cannot supply myself with. Beyond that, I give only for free that which costs me nothing. A potion though..." He clucked his tongue. "They do not grow on bushes. They require base materials and experimentation. They are dangerous to work with. If I am to take such risks for you, what am I to gain, hmm?" His tone was mocking, but also encouraging. The project intrigued him enough, he eagerly hoped Toby would come up with a way to make it worthwhile.
Toby looked up at the clouds, thinking furiously. He'd been in this same spot before, trying to figure out how to secure Zinc and Junella's services. Though this time he didn't have a George to bargain with. Although...
He cast a disapproving glare at L'roon. "You did sell my friend. A fellow nightmare, too! Aren't you at least a little bit ashamed? I think maybe you owe me."
L'roon grinned obscenely. "Nice try, dear friend."
"He was never really yours to sell!" Toby tried again. "He pledged himself to me! I still technically own him. You were... You were selling stolen property!"
L'roon loudly guffawed. "You are forgetting the law of salvage! 'Anything I can take from the sea belongs to me!'" He waved three arms towards the ocean of bodies.
Toby snorted like a bull. A dead fellow was sprawled across his path and he kicked its arm out of the way.
The peddler's expression softened. He patted the frustrated mouse on the shoulder. "There, there. I will concede that perhaps I should have tried to locate you first before selling your friend as a decorative lightbulb. But-" He held up a finger. "-that only means I will be lenient with my pricing. A discount. You still have to provide primary disbursement."
Toby supposed he couldn't really expect more than that. He returned to frantic thought. There had to be something he could sell...
L'roon eyed the mouse appraisingly. "Might I offer a suggestion?"
Toby looked up and noticed the covetous gleam in the merchant's eyes. His thoughts flew to his hammer and he closed his left hand protectively around where it hid.
L'roon chortled. "No, no, dear friend! You may keep that. I know it is attached to you. And, since I now know a sheath-pill of my own is just a visit to Coryza away, I've lost all desire for yours."
Whew! That was a relief.
The peddler cackled gleefully. "Imagine the efficiency! I could buy a dozen or more! Pockets everywhere! I'd be a god among smugglers!!"
Toby took a sideways step to avoid falling saliva.
L'roon sighed and tucked away his dreams of conquests new. He composed himself again. His smile and tone were silky smooth. "No, small mouse, I was thinking of something more... savory."
The naked hunger on the merchant's face was as blatant as could be. Toby winced. "You want my eyeballs again?"
The nightmare skidded to a stop and whipped his head towards Toby, teeth flashing. "No! I want ALL of you!!"
Toby backed up so quick you'd have thought there was a bungee cord pulling him. He tripped on a corpse's leg and thudded onto the body pile at the shoreline.
L'roon roared in laughter. He wiped a tear from his eye. "HAAWWWW!!! Please forgive me! I couldn't resist!"
Snarling a little, Toby rolled over and tried to get to his feet. The dead folks were lumpy and slippery. "You scared me. Hilarious. But you weren't kidding, were you?"
L'roon got quiet. He smiled with respect. "Perceptive of you. And I notice you're not running away from the idea. Commendable."
"I'm not particularly happy about it." Toby brushed sand from his legs and approached the nightmare. He stood firm, though with a wince. "If Piffle was fine with being dinner, I guess I can stand it too. And..." He shrugged. "What else do I have to offer besides myself?"
"Your clothes," L'roon noted matter-of-factly.
Toby reflexively covered himself. "Even if you wanted them, no! Maybe I'm weird, but I'd rather be killed than naked!"
L'roon laughed so hard he shook. "You living souls have such interesting hang-ups!"
Toby's cheeks burned. "Allright, allright." He exaggeratedly bared his throat. "Well? Here you go."
The joking demeanor left the construct's smile. "Are you envisioning me butchering you? Tsk. Rest thy worries. What I have in mind is much less messy, and may be either more or less distasteful to you, depending."
He was already dreading it. "Depending on what?"
There was no reason to tease the mouse anymore. "Before I do, I feel compelled to make sure that you understand fully the unusual nature of the transaction. You will be paying up front for a potion, the use of which is contingent upon factors you currently lack."
A shrug. "I know. But the chance alone is worth it. If it does what I'm hoping, then yeah. That's worth just about anything. Even being snacked on."
L'roon gave the mouse an admiring smile. All business was risk, and choosing those risks was a skill. This was the choice he would have made in the same position. "I acknowledge," he said respectfully. "And you can bet your pelt on it: my potions exceed expectations always." He cracked two sets of knuckles.
"I believe you," Toby nodded. "So... out with it. Just what the heck are you planning to do to me?"
L'roon enjoyed drawing it out. "You've developed an impatient streak since last we met!"
Toby sighed. "I'm keyed-up, I guess. I'm terrified of what I'm heading into with Scaphis, and I'm depressed and my heart hurts and it's exhausting. So if this is where things start getting horrible again, I'd rather just dive in and get it over with."
L'roon tapped his lips. "Prescient choice of words, boy."
Toby looked at that long, tooth-studded mouth. "You're gonna swallow me whole?" he squeaked. The thought split him down the middle. On the one hand: not getting chewed to bits. On the other: burning alive in stomach acid. "Please tell me you're gonna knock me out first!"
"Nothing so brutal," the construct reassured. He pointed out his insectlike abdomen. "I have many inner chambers that contain no digestive enzymes. Should've been obvious. A smuggler like me? I have often been transportation for sensitive goods and fursons seeking asylum."
"Allright. Doesn't sound too terrible." Toby nibbled his finger nervously. "But if you're not going to digest me, what do you get out of it?"
"Your blood," L'roon said frankly. "If I leave you alive inside me, you can supply enough nourishment to last the entire journey. I admit, I'd been hoping we could spend the time talking. But it has been ages since I've felt a living soul's blood filling me up. If anything could outweigh civilized conversation, it's sating the primal desires, eh?"
"Ick," said Toby.
L'roon shrugged. "'Ick' is subjective. Were you, or were you not, partaking in Scarlatin cuisine over the course of the past month?" He indicated the sea of corpses.
Toby narrowed his eyes. "Touché."
The peddler giggled. "So. Are we in agreement then? One potion in exchange for one journey's worth of scarlet? I'll wake you up and disgorge you unharmed once we reach the market town."
Toby was already starting to take off his shoes. "Fine. Though... can I, like, have a painkiller before I go in? Or a sleeping pill?" He laughed weakly. "Maybe a flashlight and something to read?"
L'roon smiled pleasantly. "You won't need anything like that. I've done this many times. My guests have said they felt quite lightheaded during, but they described the ride as comfortable." He reached out his five arms to effortlessly lift the mouse up off the ground. "You may even find it relaxing."
Toby watched as the construct's crocodilian mouth spread open like a castle drawbridge. The teeth were yellowed and the flesh was a pale violet. A wave of hot breath hit Toby's nose and he choked a little.
"Excuse me," L'roon said. He rustled around in his pockets for a candy tin, then popped about seven mints in his mouth. "Better?"
"Now it smells like candy canes, roast beef, and spit," Toby said honestly.
"Ah well. I did my best." L'roon saw no reason to prolong the conversation further, so he jammed the mouse straight down his throat.
It got very dark very quickly. Toby closed his eyes and covered his muzzle to keep out smells and hold in screams. He was not going to let himself be a wuss about this. Not a single part of his body could stand the sensations engulfing it, but he knew he'd been in worse. And he trusted L'roon's word. The merchant had shown himself to be amoral, but not dishonest. 'If he says I'm not in any real danger, I won't be. It'll be just like... getting put in storage.'
His skin sure was crawling though. Toby was upside down in complete darkness. L'roon's esophagus tugged at him like dozens of wet, squishy hands. He felt the breeze on his legs vanish as the construct closed his mouth, trapping the mouse's feet inside. A yard-long tongue pressed against Toby's soles, sending him on his way.
It was a short journey, but it felt much longer. Covered in mucus, Toby was shoved through a tight ring of muscle into a space the size of a duffel bag. He wriggled into a sitting position. He wrapped his arms around his knees. "This is incredibly gross!!!" he allowed himself to shriek.
"You did agree to it!" came a muffled reply.
"I'm surprised you can still hear me!" Toby called back.
"Not for long, unfortunately. If you don't try to fight it, your oxygen will run out soon. ...If you do try to fight it, it'll run out sooner."
Toby felt around a bit. There were thousands of tiny, finger-shaped nodules covering the construct's innerspace, like anemone tentacles. "No problem! The less of this I have to stay conscious for, the better!"
L'roon's chuckle reverberated his abdomen. "Do you have a preference for where I will make the injection?"
Toby was about to yelp, 'What injection!?' Then he reasoned that, of course, L'roon would have to get his blood out somehow. 'I've had about a bazillion blood tests by now,' he shrugged. "My arm?"
"Left or right?"
"Doesn't matter!" As soon as he'd said it, Toby felt a garter snake slither along his right bicep. He flinched away from it, but there was no escape in here. It was one of those finger-things from the walls. It slithered into his armpit and a tiny beak-like stinger began probing for a vein. 'Just like a nurse would.' Except not. Because when the puncture came, it sunk in much deeper than a needle, headed straight for a plump, juicy artery. Toby involuntarily howled.
"I hope it didn't hurt too much," L'roon said, sounding genuine.
Toby fought the urge to rip the snakelike tube from his arm. It felt like a leech with a corkscrew nose. "Not a bit!" he sarcasmed, trying to keep his voice from cracking.
"You are brave, small sir," L'roon complimented.
Hearing that actually made him feel better. "Thank you."
"And may I say, I believe you will provide fine nourishment. Your blood has... character."
Toby didn't know how L'roon was 'tasting' him, but was glad he liked it. 'I really would have to sell my clothes if he spat me back out and said I was too bitter!'
He settled in and tried to get comfortable (if that was even possible). The wound in his arm throbbed. The holding compartment's membrane stuck to him all over. It smelled like wet dog in here. Holding his glowing palm-slit up to his face, he could barely see two inches in front of him.
Then a wave of sleepiness smacked him right across the forehead. "Wowww, that came on quick!" Toby could feel the tube in his arm gulping down blood at a rapacious pace. His cheeks and fingertips were already getting numb. "L'roon? Hey, I'm just gonna... try to get cozy and take a nap in here, allright?"
"I told you it wouldn't take long!"
He tried to keep his mind on what he was gaining by going through with this. "Sorry it turned out this way. I actually did want to talk with you during the trip."
"We may have time later," the construct said calmingly. "For now, enjoy rest. I will enjoy you."
Toby couldn't feel his feet anymore. His face felt watery. Sparkles flashed in the darkness.
He rolled over onto his side, careful not to disturb the organic needle. 'This place would be a lot more bearable if it wasn't so moist.'
It was getting harder to think. Toby felt like an empty styrofoam cup. Who knew he had this much blood in him in the first place? He felt kind of hungry. The colors were so pretty, and yet he had his eyes closed... Was he breathing? There was...
...
***
In the lightless cubbyhole within the nightmare's abdomen, Toby began a repeating cycle of death and rebirth. Over and over and over. The probe in his arm never stopped drinking. Toby would drain, die, reform, then be drained again. He was an ever-full chalice. L’roon would have sworn he could taste the mouse's dreams.
It was a lot like being locked in a sensory deprivation chamber. Toby could see nothing but the shifting lights behind his eyelids. He could hear nothing but the slow slosh of the merchant's guts. L'roon had no heartbeat. Toby found this somehow fitting, during one of his brief moments of lucidity. He kept falling asleep as he slowly died, then waking up to a few more moments of awareness. Then, back into blankness again.
But, as anyone knows who has had something brilliant come to them just before or after bedtime, this was perfect mental terrain for ideas. The halfway-zone between wake and sleep connected Toby to his subconscious, allowing concepts to emerge that his rational censor might have immediately vetoed otherwise.
His mind's eye saw his friends and yearned for them. He saw their faces. Their smiles. To reach them again meant getting past Scaphis. And once his mind fixed on her, it began to burn with unfulfilled outrage. The name felt branded on the inside of his eyelids, letters flickering with heat and ash: SCAPHIS TARRARE.
In the dark damp dreamness, Toby mined his imagination for revenge. His perpetually-asphyxiating mind was a cloudy soup where any batshit thing could float in for consideration. No judgment was made until the idea was fully formed and in front of him. Like an audition. He let himself leap into each successive scenario, replaying it again and again, trying to find one that wouldn't inevitably come to a literal dead end.
The first and most primitive scenarios were of simply storming her fortress, hammer in hand, and beating the everloving snot out of her. Except the reverse was more probable. He saw her as a snarling dragon, with himself in knight's armor, piercing her heart with a lance. Except in real life he wasn't strong enough to hold one. He imagined calling in Phobiopolis' army and having them storm the mountain with all sortsa artillery. Except Phobiopolis didn't have an army. He imagined flying over Anasarca and bombing the hell out of it. Total annihilation. Except his friends would be inside when that happened. And where was he going to get a plane?
Toby traveled to Anasarca hundreds upon hundreds of times. Ninety percent of these scenarios ended in horrific failure. But a golden few showed promise.
Some even sounded quite nice.
As the finger-tube drank from his arm, Toby phased back and forth between reality and mirage. He saw faces. He imagined conversations. Tearful, joyous reunions. Battle planning. Coordinated retaliation. Then the repeated disappointment of waking up back in a stomach again.
His goal was such a long way off. Why couldn't it just get here sooner?
'Time travel would be nice...' Toby thought as his brain succumbed to darkness yet again.
-***-