12 - The Best Laid Plans...

By the gods, Orion was never ready for the morning. It always seemed to dawn like clockwork, no matter the kind of night he’d had the evening before. The long days in the Tower, thankfully, presented an excellent opportunity to sleep in, or at least sleep off the night’s stupor. He’d learned to strike a balance, more often than not anyway, of a good and proper level of inebriation, at just the proper time, before turning in for the evening. Timing, he always found, held more power than people gave it credit.

Still, the pounding in his skull told him he might have overdone it.

“Best hope that hairy bastard has any tonic left,” the man grumbled to himself, “be a damn shame if I had to live with any more consequences in this life.” The ghost of a smile touched his lips at the thought, but the corners of his mouth turned down at his head’s throbbing insistence.

Slapping his hand around blindly, he fumbled for his hat. His room was in a particular state of disorder this morning, not that he recalled any reason he may have gone beyond the call of duty the prior night. He finally found it, crumpled and in desperate need of a good starching, kicked off near his left boot. Fine friends those two were, found together not infrequently. Sitting up, he set his hat on his head and pulled the brim down low to curtail the brightness of the dawning day.

Checking himself out in the reflection of his room’s grimy mirror, he nodded in satisfaction. He pulled a few splinters from his nether regions, easing his discomfort a touch. He was generally suffering in one way or another, but small touches kept him at least appearing reasonably well put together. Nobody quite understood the care it took to look so perfectly frumpy, to draw just enough attention to remind people how little they wanted to be nearby. Sniffing twice, he lifted an arm only to promptly clamp it down tightly. That ripeness may just have been a bit too carefully curated. There’s nothing quite as potent as the stench of a body removing toxins.

At least he shouldn’t have to worry about conversation interrupting his recovery. He had planning to do, the kind of planning best done with those in the need to know. Currently, he was at the top of a very short list there. At the very least, the table wouldn’t be crowded, and he very much hoped it would be even less than that. Some solitude would do him well, as much as a proper greasy meal.

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Stepping into the common area of the tavern, he noticed the usual disarray was in fine order that day. A few drunks, those unfortunate enough to have forgotten to secure a room before succumbing to inebriation, or just too blasted to care, lay scattered among the spread of booths. The familiar aroma wafting across the room, a sickly-sweet scent with notes of stale, sour bread, masked his entrance slightly.

Glancing about, he took stock of the room’s more active occupants. He spotted a few groups at tables who, getting a jump on his own plans, nipped what ailed them with a bit of hair o’ the dog. A bedraggled shroud hung over the room, dampening what light filtered through the partially drawn curtains. What conversation rumbled across the airwaves in gruff tones often took the form of grunts and groans as much as formal language.

The regulars of the Marmot were a rare breed, and none of them were averse to living in a state of nearly lucid thought. For some, it dulled the relentless march of an adventurer’s life. Others, often craftsmen, simply wanted to blow off some steam before getting back to business; the drive of an artist was often uncompromising in its need for progress. For others still, it had become something more: revelry given shape in renewed purpose. Even in a place such as the Tower, the realities of life could be humbling. Not everyone was cut out for the challenges they’d signed up for in entering this place, but still found a purpose where they might.

Orion pulled up a chair at his favorite corner table. There were no windows or doors to his back, giving him a sense of security that only comes from knowing surprises won’t come from behind you. He could see the room clearly from his vantage point, including his backup seats. Uncommon as it was for anyone else to sit here, particularly at this hour, it wasn’t as if he had more than a passing claim to the seat. He held merely the claim of routine, which only the intrepid few ever sought to challenge or disturb.

Seeing the scullery maid approaching, holding Orion’s usual breakfast, he took a moment to admire the home he’d never imagined he’d need. There was a certain homeliness inherent to the place, some magic he had never understood, that always put the wanderer at ease. Orion sometimes couldn’t fathom the differences between the Tower and the outside world, but even less could he relate to the man he had once been. More than any other lesson, his time here had beaten into him the malleability of perspective and just how limited his views were before acquiring the wealth of experience he’d earned through his struggles. The weight of ages hung ever heavier here in this, seemingly, timeless place.

His dish touched down on the table before him with a faintly audible thud, displacing his thoughts. He inclined his head in a cursory “thank you” to the scullery maid, Celeste, he thought her name was. She was gone with a polite smile and a twirl of her skirts. She knew better than to expect much from the man, he was a creature of habit if ever she’d seen one.

As his food cooled before him, he allowed himself to lapse back into that semiconscious state of thought. He was still aware of his surroundings, a hard-earned lesson, but only insomuch as he needed to be to identify potential threats to his person.

A death of ambition spelled the end for more adventurers than the relentless march of time. When time was functionally limitless, it took a certain Will to stay the course. More than a handful of challengers had lost sight of what brought them to the tower in the first place, but it was still rare to see someone succumb to the wiles of time.

People didn’t age quite like on the outside, no. In here, and no one knew quite what caused it, people faded. It started with more intangible things like memory, quirks, and idiosyncrasies. Initially, they lost that innate something, that cornerstone of individuality. Slowly, more unnerving still, they faded from the memories of others.

Eventually, even their corporeal forms began to fade. It was a hauntingly beautiful sight that Orion wouldn’t have believed if he hadn’t seen it himself, a strange translucence of the body letting through an ephemeral light, not meant for the living.

It was a glimpse of the sublime, and in that glimpse lived a shadow of all he’d ever lost. This final stage lasted moments, yet seemed unending, stretched to infinity in his memory, as if his mortal mind were exposed to a fraction of eternity, yet incapable of drawing enlightenment from the experience, the sight so profoundly beyond him.

Most people didn’t know this, whether through blissful ignorance or something more insidious, Orion wasn’t sure. If he hadn’t seen it himself, hadn’t witnessed the end of a man who lived on now only as an intangible hole in the shape of a friend, he knew he wouldn’t believe it himself.

The curse of agelessness was simply one of the curiosities of this place. Most people gave up on figuring out the Tower’s mysteries, but he couldn’t help but find them fascinating. Witnessing the marvel of this world gave him purpose beyond himself, it gave him perspective in a seemingly limitless place.

The door at the main entrance swung open, revealing, much to Orion’s surprise, the budding adventurer he’d seen in the woods only the day before.

“Time, you scheming wench. And here I was, just lauding the wonders of timing. Just my luck.”

Sometimes fate plays its own hand, but he knew better than to show his cards too quickly: better to hold on to some level of control while he could. Still, a smile shadowed his face, barely evident at the upturned corners of his mouth and eyes, as a plan started piecing itself together in his aching head.

Yes, he could work with this.

The newcomer’s eyes panned the room, settling on the bar. Silence had settled over the room at her entrance. People simply didn’t come to the Drowned Marmot at this hour, particularly strangers. The set of her jaw told a tale of disappointment at the venue, but true to the steel he’d seen in her, she firmed her resolve and walked over to the counter. Moments passed, all eyes in the room locked on the trespasser, before she noticed the bartender’s furry fingers rapping on the countertop.

Aa polished as she tried to keep her reaction, she couldn’t hide the look of bemusement that stole the stoic features from her face.

Too softly for most to hear, although Orion hardly counted himself among that number, she muttered, “A friend pointed me your way…sir.”

Orion chuckled to himself at the proprietor being referred to as ‘sir.’ He could probably count the times that had happened on one hand, even if he went and lost most of his digits.

“He said I could find a, how did he put it, ‘useless waste o’ talent’ who could help me find my bearings.”

The rough sound of wood dragging across the floorboards told him the bartender was grabbing a prop to stand on. A sinking feeling in his gut told him another story. A voice more squeak than timbre queried back, “And who, pray tell, is this friend to send you to my place of business, little greenie?”

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A shock of color painted her cheeks in indignation as she bit back a retort. “It’s Anilith, thank you very much, sir. According to our talk, he goes by Ol’ Mingus. Strange man, but helpful enough, I suppose.”

The power infused in the high-pitched laugh that burst forth from behind the bar was enough to make those presently assembled wish their eardrums burst, rather than deal with the lingering ringing left in the shrill outburst’s wake.

The sinking feeling from moments before was fast becoming a pit, deepening by an order of miles in moments. As his head cleared, he heard his friend, although Orion was reluctant to think of him as such in that moment, say, “…be a fool to turn down a referral from one such as him. Sure enough, you never know when he might be listening. Some say the walls have ears, and those ears tell all to those who listen. Nobody listens better'n him, don’t let him hoodwink ya.”

It was at that moment that Orion knew his plans would not go so smoothly as he hoped. Nothing ever did where that blasted man was involved. “Gods-damned lazy good-for-nothing bastard, always sticking his nose where it don’t belong,” Orion mumbled more loudly than he intended. “And here I was, planning on paying him a visit after breakfast.” The food had suddenly lost its appeal, and Orion pushed away his plate, the slight grinding of stone on wood sounding at the movement.

The amateur adventurer, Anilith, she’d called herself, turned and caught his gaze. Reading the face of a man caught in another’s machinations, her lips crept up into a smile. There was nothing pleasant about it.

“Yep,” he mumbled again, bemoaning the trend of his own fortunes, “some folk have all the luck.”

As the girl walked towards him, Orion couldn’t help but wonder just what the day held for him. “That man is gonna owe me for this. No surprise he had bigger plans than he let on, that meddling old coot always does.” Orion smiled back, but it never reached his eyes.

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A breakfast plate, mostly cooled by now, sat opposite Orion. Anilith had taken a few bites when the food came, but she didn’t seem to have much of an appetite: at least not an appetite for food. Her questions were endless. The mystery of Mingus was the topic of her latest vein of questions.

“Well, like I said already, no one really knows how old he is, but he don’t call himself Old Mingus for shits and giggles, though that wouldn’t surprise me either.” He shook his head. “Honestly, I should stop being surprised by that confounding man ‘cause every time I think I have his number, he goes and pulls a new one on me. Thought I might just be able to enjoy breakfast today.”

Anilith’s cheeks colored a little at that in…an abashed way? “Well, the sun’s been up for hours already. It’s not my fault some of us like to actually start our day.”

“Listen, Lady, you might be new in town, but let me be the first to tell you, you’re in the minority there. You’ll get used to it in time. People always do, or they burn out chasing one mountain after the next. That’s the thing about mountains, kid. In a place like this, there’s always another to climb.”

“I didn’t come here to take it easy, I came to claim the power to help. That isn’t gonna happen if I lie around all day.”

“And it definitely isn’t gonna happen if you’re dead, either. You’ll figure it out one day, kid. Most folks don’t leave here, and it ain’t because they died. Sure, that happens often enough, but the real trick is in how Time works here. It ain’t like where you’re from, wherever that is.”

Anilith opened her mouth to speak, but Orion just raised a hand. “No, I don’t much care where that is. You could tell me, sure, but there’s a…funniness to memories here. Anything from inside is fair game, but stuff from outside? Nah, this place don’t care much for oversharing. Makes you forget, see? Don’t waste your breath on it, that’s my advice.”

“Alright, I’ll bite. Time doesn’t work the same here. Doesn’t that just give me more time to improve? I’m not here for the long run. As soon as I’m strong enough, I’m leaving to where I can really make a difference.”

Orion slapped the table and laughed. “Hit the nail on the head, there, you did. Strong enough. If I had a rupee. Lady, you’ll see before long that there ain’t no such thing. I told you people tend to stay here, yeah? Well, it ain’t just for the sunshine and good vibes. When I say there’s always a bigger mountain, I mean it. I mean, take Mingus. Man has been here longer than anyone can remember, but he’s still here. Wonder why that is? Think he don’t have goals on the outside, if he even remembers what they are? All that time, and he’s not strong enough. Nobody’s ever heard of someone beating the Tower, kid. It’s a fool’s dream.”

“I don’t need to beat the Tower, I just need to be enough to protect the people I care about. I don’t have time to waste, here. If I’m late, I won’t have anyone to return to. If I’m late…”

Orion’s gaze softened as he read her frantic, panicked energy. He held his hands up innocently. “Alright, you’ve got me there. I’m not one to stand between folks and their loved ones.” He returned his hands to the table, rhythmically thrumming the fingers on his right hand. “What makes you think that’s a matter of Time, though? Already told you, it don’t work the same here.”

“I mean, yeah, but even if it doesn't work the same way, it has to move, doesn’t it?”

He stopped his thrumming and pointed a finger at her. “Ah! That’s the question, innit? Kept more people here longer than they’d care to admit. All sorts of rumors float around on the subject, but I’ll break it down for you. No one really knows, and no one comes back after they leave to shed any light on that particular mystery. Most accept it’s just a matter of faith, believing the Tower will look out for you, returning you when you’re needed. It’s the nagging fear that they’ll be too late as keeps some people around here. Those that don’t fall victim to the idyllic lifestyle.” He spread his arms wide, indicating the scene around them. “This place is downright pleasant compared to many.”

Anilith looked around at the disheveled creatures lurking about the room, the most put-together of them not looking much better than someone forced to overnight in the marshes. “I’m not sure I’ll ever consider this pleasant, sir.”

“Ain’t no sir,” Orion grumbled, adding in a mumble almost too low to hear, “not for a long time now, anyway.”

“Well, alright. I’m still trying to figure out why Mingus sent me your way. Doesn’t seem like you have much to offer.”

Orion put on his best affronted expression. “Hey now, missy. Best watch who you’re insulting. Folks around here can surprise you; you never know just what someone’s capable of. Tryina figure the same out myself. What do you have to offer me? I’ve been around the block a few times already, you’re just a greenskin here.”

“A what?” Anilith asked with exasperation. “I’ll have you know, I take damn sure more pride in my hygiene than you.”

“Cool your head. It means you’re new. Ignorant of the way of things.”

“I might be new, but that doesn’t mean I can’t take care of myself. I took out three, what was it Mingus called them…casters! I took out three casters on my first day here. And an archer!”

“And how did you manage that?” Orion asked, fiddling with the blade of her throwing knife in one of his cloaks' many pockets.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?”

Orion gave the girl a blank stare, and she held her tongue. After a minute, he relented. “Well, yeah. That is what I just said. Gods, you’re a little dense, aren’t you?”

“You’ll find out how dense I am if you keep up that attitude,” Anilith growled.

“And what did I just say about knowing who you’re threatening, kid?”

Anilith sat still, visibly chewing on her tongue as she worked through her frustrations with the admittedly frustrating man. “I went into the Forest, came across their pack, and took them out. Can’t say I was confident it was going to go well the whole time, but that’s what I’m here for: to push myself and grow beyond my limits. I won’t waste my days in a hovel like this.”

A loud whistle came from behind the bar, followed by the scurrying of claws across wood. Before Anilith knew what hit her, she was on the ground with a two-foot ball of fur pinning her down by the chest. He was surprisingly heavy for his size, and easily kept the larger figure pinned. “Watch what you says ‘bout my establishment. I work hard to keep it nice like for the folks ‘round you. Best appreciate that before you find yourself unwelcome.” The creature, a marmot, she realized, retreated to tend the bar.

“I warned her, Marv. She just don’t listen.”

Marv the Marmot turned around and fixed Orion with an evil stare. “You’re not much better, Ori. You should know better than to push folks' buttons here. How many times do I have to throw your ass out the doors before the message sticks. Gods!” Marv turned and stomped off on tiny, rumbling feet. Anilith brushed herself off and righted her seat before sitting.

“At least one more, Marv, at least one more. Anyway, so you’re saying you show some promise, but I won’t believe it without some proof.” He added as an afterthought, “And no, a trophy from your frolic in the woods won't prove anything, if you even have anything left after Mingus got through with you. Man’s got a hoarding issue bigger than Spokane. No, you’ll have to do some proper requests before I take you under my magnanimous wing. And stick to the Plains this time, you're no good to me dead.”

He moved his chair over to put his arm around Anilith, but she shied away at the creeping doom that threatened to envelope her. “Never said we were friends, keep off. Let’s get to the noticeboard, then. Daylight’s burning.” She pushed her chair back as she stood.

“Ah, I have a meeting with a friend I can’t delay. You know how it is? I’ll meet you there when the sun is high in the sky. Best time to go out in the Plains, no shadows to play tricks in the high grass. Maybe you can make a morning of it, really see the sights. Or you can just go back to your room at the edge of town and train, if you’re really that boring.”

Anilith’s eyes narrowed, her posture instantly becoming defensive. “How do you know where my room is? You been following me?”

“If only you were so lucky. Why would I even bother? And, kid, everyone has a room. Newbies' rooms are, generally, near the edge of the ever-expanding town, yeah? Magical pocket world? Sheesh!”

As Anilith pondered the sense behind that, Orion made his way to the door. He ducked his head as he left, raising a hand in farewell. “When the sun's high, kid.”

Anilith raced out the door, but even though he’d walked through moments prior, Orion was nowhere to be seen: vanished. “Mingus, what have you gotten me into?” She smiled, a Duchenne smile that reached her eyes, adventure on her mind.

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