Over the DM's Shoulder

Tuesday, May 7, 2024

Chapter Fourteen: Bless Your Soul

You can read the previous chapter here!


Asp sat in a quiet tavern, sipping a glass of Thimblefull Vineyards’ newest wine, a tart wine of plums and rhubarb with a touch of citrus. Thimblefull Vineyards, now available in most taverns in Thistlewade, she thought. And many more across the province. She smiled and stretched in her seat. I’m not quite due for a visit, but I’m yearning to get out there. Maybe later today or tomorrow I’ll make the trip out. She looked lazily around the tavern. A pair of young halfling men were eating lunch, a dirty man slept quietly on the bar, and the bartender wiped her hands on her apron before cleaning the bar around the sleeping man. She turned back to find a smiling gnome seated across from her. She started a bit. 


“No need for that, miss,” said the gnome. He smiled politely. “I mean you no harm. In fact, I thought we might be able to help each other.” 


Asp stared at him warily. “Subtle,” she said. “Why do you think I specifically can help you?” She pointed to the sleeping man at the bar. “I’m sure he’s more desperate for the help in return than I am.” 


The gnome blinked a few times, narrowing his eyes. “Aren’t you Asp? I was told to find Asp.” 


Asp sat forward, pushing her flat palm downward in the air. “Bring it down a bit, there, buddy,” she said. “That name is not public.” 


“Sorry,” said the gnome sheepishly. “Let’s start over.” He closed his eyes and breathed deeply. He opened them and smiled. “Hi, I’m Rube Pantelshmise, and I am hoping you are–” He broke off and whispered, “Asp.” 


Asp allowed herself to laugh a bit. “You’re fun, Rube,” she said. “You’re right. That’s me. Before you tell me what you need, I would like to know how you heard of me.” 


Rube nodded. “It was some blond halfling girl,” he said. “I got here from Strey a few days ago, you understand, and when I had been waiting to board the ship here, this halfling girl gets off the boat talking about how she knew the best con artist in Thistlewade. She said you could do anything.” 


Agnes, thought Asp. Talking me up? That doesn’t make sense. “I don’t know about best in Thistlewade,” she said modestly. “But I’m good. What do you need done?” 


Rube looked nervous. “You ever been to the Arts District?” he asked. 


“Not too much,” she said. “I’ve been over there on business before.” 


“Have you ever broken into one of the colleges?” asked Rube. “I mean, is it possible?” 


Asp thought to herself. Colleges? Valuables in a college? She focused. “It’s possible. Security will be less tight than most places I’m used to working in. Am I getting information, or am I stealing something?”


“Both, really,” said Rube. “You’re stealing some scrolls.” 


Asp narrowed her eyes. “Aren’t those scrolls available for public viewing?” She watched Rube closely. “By public decree?”


“Not all scrolls,” said Rube, looking down. “Some were deemed dangerous and kept from the public. I want one of those.” 


Asp kept studying him. It doesn’t completely make sense to me to pull a heist for a piece of paper, but if the money’s good . . . “What’s it pay?” she asked. 


Rube smiled and withdrew a coinpurse twice the size of her own. He placed it on the table and pulled back the drawstrings. He lifted the mouth of the bag to reveal a large pile of gold pieces. There must be close to a hundred in there, she thought. Unless he’s playing the “gold on top” trick. Wordlessly, she dipped a hand into the bag and fished around below the surface. Her hand came up again with two gold coins. 


“Fair enough,” she said, trying to keep her eyes from bulging. That score from the bank last year was a good haul, but most of it was small change. This is serious. 


“So you’ll do it?” asked Rube. 


“What am I getting?” she asked. “That can impact these things, you understand.” 


Rube smiled. “Does it matter? It’s just a piece of paper,” he said. 


“It matters if it changes where it’s kept,” said Asp. “Or what’s protecting it. Or why you need it.” 


“What does it matter why I need it?” asked Rube. 


“It just does,” said Asp. “Trust me.” 


Rube frowned. “The top will say ‘Invention 909-3c’ on it, and that’s all I’ll say.” 


“I don’t like this, Rube,” said Asp. “Convince me that I should like this.” 


Rube pointed to the bulging coinpurse. “You need more convincing?” 


Asp thought to herself. I don’t really need the money. I’ve got enough saved to take off at least a year. I actually do need more convincing. “I do,” she said. “Are you going to profit from this invention?” 


Rube thought. “I will,” he said slowly. 


“Then give me 10% of the profits from the first year,” she said. 


Rube frowned. “I wasn’t planning on sticking around, you understand,” he said. “I’m going back to Strey for a while, then on to Myriad.” 


“World traveler,” said Asp. She smiled. “Mail it to me.” 


Rube looked down. “Do you know anyone else who–?”


Asp laughed. “Do I want to give you all the bargaining power and put myself out by giving you another name?” She laughed again, harder. “First time, Rube?” 


He scowled. “Yes,” he said. 


“Tell you what,” said Asp. “I’ll do the job. And if I find that something is amiss, I’m getting out of there. Does that seem fair?” 


He looked uncertain for a moment, then nodded. “I suppose that’s fair.” 


“Good,” said Asp. “Have you planned this out, or is that my department?” 


Rube looked at her, confused. 


“My department,” said Asp. “Which college?” 


“Engineering,” said Rube. “In their special storage section.” 


“Got it,” said Asp. “I’ll scout it out today; meet me back here tomorrow, and we’ll talk about going forward.” 


“You won’t just do it?” asked Rube. 


“Remember–if it looks fishy, I’m out,” said Asp. “Today is figuring out if it looks fishy.” 


“I’ll pay you extra if you can just do it today,” said Rube. “My return ship leaves in two days.” 


“You planned a mighty tight turnaround,” said Asp. “You really didn’t know what you were getting into.” 


“We’ve covered that!” barked Rube, attracting the attention of the other patrons and the bartender. “Sorry,” he called to them. “Sorry,” he said again to Asp. “Can’t we go easy on me?” 


I sounded like my mother, thought Asp. That’s gotta stop. “I’m sorry too,” she said. “In my experience, pushy and inexperienced leads to disaster, so I was just reacting to that.” 


“I was being pushy?” asked Rube. 


“Little bit,” said Asp, smiling. 


“Sorry,” he said again. “Okay, so, I meet you here tomorrow, and we discuss.” 


“Absolutely,” said Asp. “I’ll be here.” She stretched in her chair. “Hey, try this wine,” she said. 


“I’m not thirsty,” said Rube. 


“Just a sip,” said Asp, passing him the nearly empty bottle. “It’s partly my company.” 


Rube’s eyes went wide. “A con artist with a wine company?” he muttered. He drained the last bit of the wine in the bottle. “That’s good,” he said. “What is that, rhubarb? I haven’t had rhubarb in years.” 


“Right?” said Asp. “Anyway, I’m gonna get going. There are a few details to attend to before I go, and I don’t want to waste time.” 


“Okay,” said Rube. “See you tomorrow then.” 


“Tomorrow it is,” said Asp. “Take care.” 


She walked out of the tavern and back to her apartment. Iris greeted her at the door with a flurry of mewling. Asp smiled, picked her up, and sat before the mirror, placing Iris in her lap. She began to apply a tanner complexion with her creams and added a lace-backed beard over her face. She drew her hair up in a tight bun and, Iris complaining as she got up, stepped into a pair of trousers, followed by binding and an ornate combination of shirt, tie, and vest. She stood before the mirror. “Gilbert Steelynib, a pleasure,” she said. She thought of Rube. He talks kinda funny. Maybe that’s Gilbert’s tick. Penelope’s is saying “you see,” and being sweetly coy. Maybe Gilbert is kind of eccentric. “Gilbert Steelynib, an absolute pleasure to make your acquaintance on such a momentous day of life!” she said exuberantly. Too much. Tone it down. “Gilbert Steelynib, how colossal to meet you!” she said enthusiastically. Not enough. Maybe if I stress individual words . . . Gilbert Steelynib, a pleasure to make your acquaintance,” she said. Hey, not bad. That could work. 


She sat making sure that Gilbert was ready. I’ve used him as a way to escape detection–do something as Penelope, change into Gilbert, and who’s gonna suspect someone of a different race and gender? But as the main player in a con? I dunno. I feel uncertain as Gilbert. I don’t think I get what you’re supposed to do to be manly. That’s where the eccentric thing comes in–I don’t have to be masculine that way. She looked at herself in the mirror. She sighed. Sometimes I just look like me in makeup. But only to myself. Everybody else sees Gilbert. She breathed deeply and stood, walking to the door. 


“Be good, Iris,” she said. “Mama’s working.” 


She stepped out into the autumn sun and headed to the road to the Arts District, Gilbert’s half-cape flapping behind her in the breeze. 



Asp smiled as she walked. The autumn coloring of the leaves was especially lovely this year–people said that the milder temperatures had meant a wider range of leaf colors, but Asp just knew that the walk was so lovely that it was over before she knew it. Something about leaving town has really taught me to appreciate nature, she thought. I used to think nothing of the woods around Thistlewade. Now they’re my welcome home. And I used to think of everything outside the city as just little towns. But there’s a whole world out here. She spotted a series of tall buildings in the distance. Almost there. 


She took the last stretch of the road at a casual pace. No need to tire myself out before working, she thought. She approached the first building along the path. It was large and intimidating, gargoyles covering the façade. “Kratanore University,” the stone plaque on the door read. She turned and kept walking. Sounds boring. Next. She approached the next, a steeple-covered building with squarish proportions. “Lanternport Academy of Magical Science, Arcane and Holy,” it read. Stay away from this one, she thought. Magic is trouble. She kept walking. She arrived at a simple, modern building. A stone anvil sat atop the doorway, the plate reading, “Anvilflat College of Practical Arts.” Bingo, she thought. She walked in the open doors. 


Inside, a small group of students was gathered around an imposing dwarf. He seemed to be waiting for something. The students noticed him waiting and started to quiet down. “Headmaster Spearshaft is about to speak!” whispered one student to quiet everyone. 


The dwarf smiled and inhaled deeply. “Students!” he thundered. “We are, today, halfway through your program. If you have made it this far, you have learned multiple trades–enough to keep you supported no matter what happens. You have studied these trades also to learn what you like. For as we always say . . .” 


“Like what you do, and you’ll never work,” said the students together. 


“That’s right!” said the dwarf. “Now, listen to me closely, students. Today is the day you declare what it is you are to study for the rest of your time here. You have become journeymen in everything, and now, you shall become a master of your chosen trade. I hope you are ready, because tomorrow begins your training proper. Now go, rest your minds and focus. Before dinner, you will choose your future.” He smiled and waved them away, and the crowd of students dispersed out the front door, leaving Asp with the dwarf. 


“Hi,” she said quietly when he looked at her. 


“Hello, young man,” said the dwarf. “Do you come seeking a future?” 


Asp smiled. “I have my future, good sir,” she said. “I seek my present. I am a traveler, down from Cal-Cal-Zarog. I am seeking the many rich histories of this land. I understand you have a small exhibit of work here.” 


The dwarf smiled. “I am Headmaster Rex Spearshaft,” he said. “Our academy does indeed have a variety of work from earlier periods. We also have a great deal of work in our private archives. Shall I show you the way, Mr. . .” 


“Mr. Steelynib,” said Asp. “Yes, I would love to see the displays and the archives.” 


“Well,” said Spearshaft, “the archives are private. But I will show you to the displays.” 


I’ll get around you, she thought. How hard can it be to get into a room? Thank you, Headmaster Spearshaft,” she said. “I appreciate your courtesy.”


He led her up a flight of stairs and into two connected rooms, each covered in displays of tools, finished goods, and blueprints. She looked around, trying to look overwhelmed by the display. 


“This is incredible,” she said. “Simply magnificent. Were all of these produced here?” 


“Everything but the older blueprints and tools,” said Spearshaft. “You see this set of tongs?” he asked, pointing to a heavy pair under glass. “These predate Thistlewade.” 


“My word!” said Asp. “That’s incredible!” 

 
Spearshaft laughed. “So you’ve said.” 


Asp moved to the glass display case. Next to the tongs were the original charter for the academy, and beyond that a pile of ancient nails. Next to those was a document of some sort. She walked over to it and began studying it. It looked somewhat like a catapult, but lower to the ground, and with a broader throwing structure. 


“The oil launcher,” said Spearshaft. “We had it in the private archives for a long time, but we decided to bring it out last week. One of our stranger pieces.” 


“What does it do?” asked Asp, studying the mechanism. “Is it for throwing boulders?” 


“Not boulders,” said Spearshaft. “This was from the period when our wars with the gnolls were at their worst.” 


“So it is a machine of war?” asked Asp. 


Spearshaft nodded. “An oil launcher. Outfitted to throw fire, poison, even gasses onto enemy forces. Fortunately, it was not put to use according to our records.” He looked out a window, his face unsure. “But rumor is that it helped usher in an age of peace after use.” 


“Huh,” said Asp, studying the blueprint. It seems so non-threatening, she thought. Just a piece of paper. And yet it could deal horrific death. She shook her head. She glanced up at the top of the blueprint and froze. It read, “Invention 909-3c.” 


“Well, I’ll leave you to examine the rest of the exhibits in peace,” said Spearshaft. “You come downstairs and let us know if you need any help.” 


“Thanks,” said Asp absently. She was staring at the blueprint. “Thanks, I appreciate your help.” 


“Any time,” said Spearshaft, heading down the stairs. “Good day, Mr. Steelynib.”


Asp looked from the blueprint’s design to its label. Shit. What could he possibly want to use this for? And how am I supposed to silently get it out of that case? What the hell do I do? I mean, I should walk away, but– She smiled. I don’t need to walk away. 


Asp looked around, then drew a sheet of paper from her bag. It was about the size of the blueprint. She pulled out an inkpen and began to trace the general shape of the blueprint through the glass, deliberately leaving out specific support beams in a few areas. She also changed the marked counterweight to nearly triple the original blueprint’s noted amount. She was nearly done when she heard footsteps on the stairs behind her. She lowered the paper and hid it inside her vest. A few students came up the stairs, chatting quietly. 


“It’s not a big deal, really,” said one student, a black-haired halfling girl. 


“But it kind of is,” said the other, a spindly young gnomish man. “I mean, it would bother me.” 


“Well, it doesn’t bother me,” said the girl as they left the room for the adjoining hallway. 


Asp waited a second, then pulled out the paper and finished tracing. She held her version next to the original, visually tracing line between one and the other. That should work, she thought. We’ll see, anyway. She headed down the stairs and slipped out of the academy into the street outside. She poked her head into the magical academy and the college just long enough to ensure that she was seen looking around. Just long enough to seem like a traveler seeing the sights, she thought as she left the college. Then I can get back home. Or actually, the vineyard is kind of on the way. I’ll stop by. 


She headed off on the winding road back through the woods, feeling like something was just outside her grasp. What the hell could Rube have wanted with these blueprints? she thought. She let her thoughts drift as she walked, enjoying the brisk autumn air and the bright blue sky. 



Asp walked past the final few vineyards and took the short, winding path to the building where Rick and Ginger bottled their wine. She looked happily on the rising orchards and the new fields that grew only flowers and herbs. The grapevines looked strong on their trellises, their fine leaves bouncing lightly in the breeze. She smoothed her dress–she had changed out of Gilbert’s costume on the way. She headed inside. 


Rick and Ginger sat at the bar with half-full wine glasses and an open bottle of wine. They talked quietly in happy tones. 


“Rick, Ginger?” called Asp gently. “Is it okay if I visit?”


“Heather, is that you?” asked Rick, turning to greet her. “Come in!” 


Asp walked up to the bar as Ginger grabbed another glass and poured it full for Asp. 


“Good of you to come by,” said Ginger. 


“Good of you to have me,” said Asp. “How’re things?”


“They’re good,” said Rick happily. He looked to Ginger. “You wanna tell her?”


Ginger grinned. “We’re sold out, Heather,” she said. “We barely finished the last case yesterday, and it was gone by dinner.” 


“You were so right about the taverns,” said Rick. “I mean, they were quadruple our individual sales this year!” 


“That’s excellent,” said Asp. “I’m glad it worked.” 


“It didn’t just work,” said Rick. “It made us a new company.” 


“I’m sorry I resisted, Heather,” said Ginger. She looked sheepish. “You were right.” 


Asp smiled. “No apologies necessary,” she said. “I proposed a risk. You were protecting your business, and you were right to do so.”


“It’s not just that,” said Rick. “Things were good enough this year that we made enough to start paying you back.” 


“Here, let me get what we have,” said Ginger, rising from her chair. 


“Oh, sit down,” said Asp. “Put it back into the company for now. Or get yourself something nice. Whatever you want. You can pay me back later.” 


Ginger raised an eyebrow. “You’re a strange one,” she said. “It’s almost like you don’t want to make any money. Anybody else would have demanded a payment two years ago.” 


Asp considered, then shrugged. “I’m not anybody else,” she said. “I’m me, and I want this vineyard to be healthy before I start extracting money from it. You wouldn’t draw blood from an injured person, would you?” 


“We’re not injured, though,” said Rick. “We’re doing better than we ever have.” 


“But you’re still not where we could be,” said Asp gently. “In another year, those orchards will double your fruit wine output. In another year, your flower plants will be more mature, and you can use those ingredients more. And if you’ll let me, I’d like to add two more grape fields.” 


“We don’t need more grape fields,” said Ginger. 


“We did run out of classic wine before we ran out of fruit and herbal wines,” said Rick. 


“Let me leave some money with you,” said Asp. “Use it to get the new fields going, and use what you were going to pay me to take a vacation.” She produced a small coinpurse and pulled out a small stack of gold coins. “To work those fields, of course, you’ll need another laborer. I know you’re already strapped.” She added two more gold coins. “Bring someone on, and give everyone a raise. After the year you’ve described, they deserve it.” 


Rick smiled widely. “Thank you, Heather.” 


Ginger looked warily at the coins, then sighed. “You’ve never been wrong before,” she said. She pulled the coins across the table to her and stacked them neatly. “You know where we’ve never been?” she asked Rick suddenly. 


“Most places,” said Rick, laughing. “We’ve almost never traveled.” 


“How about Highglen?” Ginger asked. “I hear it’s lovely this time of year.” 


“You know what you should do?” asked Asp. “Go stay in Boldrei’s House. It’s about an hour north of here, little town with plenty of little shops and restaurants. Then, walk the border between Lowglen and Highglen–it’s right there, just outside of town. You see more leaves that way; that area is really good for autumn.” 


“That could be nice,” said Rick. 


“You’ve been there often?” asked Ginger. 


“I travel a lot for work,” said Asp. “It’s one of my favorite roads.” 


“That could be nice, right, Ginger?” asked Rick. 


“It could be nice,” said Ginger, smiling. 


“Then it’s settled,” said Asp. “You make the preparations. Leave in the next two or so weeks if you want to see the leaves.” 


“How lovely,” said Ginger, blinking as though she couldn’t believe her upcoming vacation. “We haven’t vacationed since–” 


“Since before Heather was born,” finished Rick. 


“Well, on that note,” said Asp, “I should probably go. Let you two get planning.” 


“Oh, wait,” said Ginger, dashing behind the bar. “We held onto this one for you.” She pulled up a fine bottle with a crimson label. 


Interesting, Asp thought. Not the usual plain label. 


“It’s a classic grape wine, which I know you only like so much,” said Ginger, “but it’s our sweetest wine this season. It’s related to a riesling, but with a bit more body. I hope you like it.” 


“I’m sure I’ll love it,” said Asp. “Thank you so much.” 


“Well, happy travels!” said Rick. “Be careful on the road.” 


“I always am,” said Asp. 


“Take care, Heather,” said Ginger happily. 


“Bye now!” called Asp, heading out the door. 


She walked along the road back toward Thistlewade, smiling softly to herself. Rick and Ginger are so great, she thought. They always take care of me, and they always appreciate when I help. She sighed happily. I wonder what life would have been like if they were my parents. 


She came around a corner and saw a hooded figure standing in the middle of the path holding a broadsword. She made to step off the road stealthily, but the figure’s voice interrupted her. 


“Over here, little one,” it said. The voice was deep and booming, yet hollow. “Do not try to hide.” 


She paused, calculating options. I could try to run. But I’m still pretty far from a city. I’d be running for quite a way. I obviously can’t fight. Maybe just play along for now? 


“I’m coming,” she said calmly and walked up to be about ten feet from the figure. “Is this your road?” she asked. “Is there a toll?” 


“A toll of sorts,” said the figure. 


“That’s cryptic,” she said. “What do you want as payment?” 


“Your life,” said the figure.


Asp tensed to turn and run. “Excuse me?” she said, trying to keep her voice even. “My life?” 


“You must turn over everything you own, or die,” said the figure. “Your life, or your life.” 


Asp considered. I’m not carrying that much, she thought. It would suck to lose it, but I’ll live. “All my money?” she asked. “I can do that.” 


“Not just the money you have on you,” said the figure. “Everything.” 


Asp cocked an eyebrow. “You mean, like, what I have back in town? You want to follow me to town and go to the bank with me?” 


“You will bring it to me,” said the figure. 


Asp took a half step back. “Yeah, that sounds like a bad plan. How about I give you what I have, and I leave?” 


The figure didn’t move. After a moment, it said, “If you do not follow my plan, you will suffer.” 


Asp sighed. “That’s life, buddy. You suffer, then you die.” 


“You have chosen,” said the figure. He reached to the side and pulled a rope. Asp heard a snapping sound, then a sound like something rushing through air. A heavy weight hit the back of her head. She fell to the ground. 


“You suffer, then you die,” the figure said. It loomed over Asp. She was just barely conscious of the figure rifling through her bag, pulling all five of the coinpurses she had stashed in her bag. She heard footsteps as the figure walked down the path, and moments later, she lost consciousness. 



Asp wandered into town, her head thumping. What was the point of that asshole? she thought, carefully rubbing the back of her head. Damn, that hurts. She took a few streets towards her apartment, then stopped. She turned and headed back the other way, ducking past a few quiet shops and into a quiet neighborhood. She walked up to the small house and knocked twice. 


“Hey,” said Asp, fighting to keep the pain from her voice. “I know you don’t want to see me and everything, but I, um–” She stopped and breathed deeply. “I miss you, and I thought I’d let you know. I have more wine,” she said, retrieving the bottle from her pack. “It’s one of the best this season.” She put it on the porch. “Enjoy it,” she said. She turned and walked away, tracing the route back to her apartment. 


She arrived, let herself in, and sank into a chair. Iris hopped up on her lap and stretched out to sniff Asp’s face. 


“Hey, baby,” she said. “Mama got a boo-boo.” 


“Mrow,” said Iris. 


“I know,” said Asp. “I was being stupid. I should have just paid up and kept going.” 


“Mrow,” said Iris. 


“Yeah, ash would be really nice about now,” said Asp. “But not after last time.” I’ve been clean almost a year now, she thought. It’s nice to not have the headaches. And to save the money, I guess. 


“Mrow,” said Iris. 


“I know, I am proud,” said Asp. “It’s nice to be in control again.” 


“Mrow,” said Iris. She sat down in Asp’s lap. 


“You’re such a good girl,” Asp said. “Hey, I picked up some more rabbit for you.” She rummaged in her bag and withdrew a few short strips of smoked meat. “Now we know you like rabbit best.” She fed a strip of the meat to Iris, who chomped fiercely on it. 


“Mrow,” she said between bites.


“That’s right,” said Asp as Iris bit the rabbit strips. “Good girls get rabbit.” 


There was a knock on the door. Asp looked at it curiously.


“Gimme a sec, baby,” she said, lifting Iris off her lap. She headed to the door and peered through the hole. What? she thought. What’s she doing here? She opened the door. 


“Heather?” asked Lily. 


“Mom?” asked Asp. “What are you doing here?” 


Lily looked down. “We heard you tonight.” 


Asp rolled her eyes. “You’ve heard me every night,” she said. 


Lily sighed. “We’ve heard you every night. We feel terrible. Can you come by tomorrow? Your father and I want to talk.” 


Asp looked at her mother curiously. “Am I walking into an ambush?” she asked. 


“Nothing like that,” said Lily. “We just want to talk.” 


Asp shrugged. “Okay,” she said. “We can talk.” 


“Good,” said Lily. “We’ll see you tomorrow?”


“Sure,” said Asp. “I’ll come by in the afternoon.” Iris mewled in the chair, and Asp turned to look at her. 


“Heather!” cried Lily. “What happened to your head?” 


Asp turned, cringing. “I, um,” she started. “I got mugged.” 


“Mugged?” said her mother. “By who?” 


“I dunno,” said Asp. “They were hooded.” 


“Where?” demanded Lily. 


Asp sighed. “On the road back from the vineyard.” 


“Oh, that vineyard!” said Lily dramatically. “I knew you shouldn’t be messing around with that.” 


Asp rolled her eyes. “The problem is the highwaymen, not the vineyard. Besides, that road is normally really safe.” 


“But without the vineyard, you wouldn’t have been there,” said Lily. 


“And without the vineyard, you would not have had our exquisite wine every few months for the last year.” Asp smiled. “Trust me, I’m okay.” 


“They are good wines,” said Lily. She frowned. “Tomorrow.” 


“Tomorrow,” said Asp. “I promise.” 


Lily smiled. “Good,” she said. “Have a good night, Heather.” 


“You too, Mom,” said Asp. 


Lily turned and walked away, and Asp held the door open for a moment, watching her leave. She turned back inside, closing the door, and rejoined Iris on the chair. 


“That’s weird,” said Asp. 


“Mrow,” said Iris. 


“No, I mean, obviously it’s weird that she’s being nice,” said Asp. “I meant more like, what’s changed? They threw me away because I was making dishonest money. Do they think that’s changed?” 


“Mrow,” said Iris. 


“I’m not changing for them,” said Asp. “They want their little Heather, they can remember her. She’s not coming back.” 


“Mrow,” said Iris. 


“Well, yeah, I’m Heather with Rick and Ginger, but that’s for business reasons,” said Asp. “I’m not Heather anywhere else, because that’s not who I am. If they need me to be Heather, they’re going to be disappointed.” 


“Mrow,” said Iris insistently. “Mroooow.” 


“I mean it,” said Asp. “The second they suggest I change, I’m out.” 


Iris curled up in a ball on her lap. 


“No response, I see,” said Asp. “So you admit I’m right.” 


Iris sat purring for a moment, then said, “Mrow.” 


“You nasty little tart,” said Asp. “I mean it! I’ll just walk away.” 


“Mrow,” said Iris. 


“Oh, we’ll see,” said Asp. “We shall see.” 


And as Iris nodded off to sleep on Asp’s lap, Asp thought carefully over the events of the day. Busy day, she thought. But it’s tomorrow I’m worried about. She glanced around the apartment, reminding herself that she had two years’ worth of funds stashing around the place and outside around town. Things are good with the vineyard. Really good. Maybe I invest somewhere else. 


She allowed her thoughts to swirl like fallen leaves–part of a whole, but separate and beautiful in their own way. She was so focused on her planning and considering that she woke the following morning in the chair, her neck stiff, with Iris still purring faintly on her lap. 



Asp walked into the tavern and to the bar. 


“One bottle of Thimblefull Vineyards’ new sweet wine,” she said. “If you have it.” 


“Just got it in,” said the bartender. “A bottle, you said?” 


Asp nodded. The bartender pulled down a bottle with a crimson label and uncorked it in a practiced motion. She handed the bottle and a glass to Asp. “You want a tab, or close out?” 


“Let’s start a tab,” said Asp. “I’ll be over for lunch in a bit.” 


“Sounds like a plan,” said the bartender, brushing a strand of hair out of her face. “Enjoy.” 


Asp took the bottle and glass back to a table away from the door where she had sat yesterday. She poured a glass and sniffed it. Very nice, she thought. Rick and Ginger do it again. She took a short swig and swallowed it slowly. Damn, I see why we’re selling so well this year. She smiled. Now where else should I put my money? It’s fun getting a business going. 


Rube walked in, looked around, and joined her at the table. “Well?” he asked. 


Asp smiled at him. “Hi, Rube,” she said. “It’s good to see you. And talk like normal people, right?” 


Rube breathed heavily. “Hi, Asp,” he said. “Nice weather and all that.” He leaned in across the table. “So?” 


Asp looked back at him squarely. “Imagine my surprise, Rube, when I found out what this little blueprint is for.” 


Rube looked eager. “So you have it?” 


“Maybe I do, maybe I don’t,” said Asp. “Are you going to tell me you expected me to not see what this thing does?” 


Rube looked away. “You wouldn’t understand.” 


“A weapon of war, Rube?” she asked. “You wanted me to steal something that kills masses of people?” 


“That’s not why I want it,” said Rube. 


“Oh, you want it to deliver long distance dessert?” said Asp, quietly but firmly. “Is that the plan?”


“No,” said Rube, his face pained. “You wouldn’t believe me.” 


Asp looked wearily at him. “Try me.” 


Rube sighed. “It’s hard, time-consuming labor to fertilize fields. Even if you have enough of the right stuff, it takes days to spread evenly.” He looked at Asp, then down at the table. “I’m pretty sure that with the right math, you could use the oil thrower to evenly spread fertilizer across whole parcels of land in a small amount of time, and with essentially zero labor.” He looked up at Asp, and his face was desperate. “They’d never let me access those blueprints at the academy, but if I could use them, I could start helping farmers across Eunax. Quicker, easier planting.” His eyes shone in the dim light of the tavern. “It could really change things.” 


Asp looked hard at him. If he’s telling the truth . . . How do I find out for sure? How do I know he’s not gonna hurt someone? She swallowed and looked him in the eyes. “Rube Pantelshmise, I’m going to ask you a simple question. You’re going to make eye contact with me, and if you look away, I’m going to have to assume you are lying. And in that case, I will not only not be giving you the blueprint, I will be escorting you to the nearest guard, where you will make a full confession.” 


“But–” started Rube. 


“Wait,” she said bitterly. “But if you answer my question right, and you don’t break eye contact, I will give it to you. Do you understand my terms?” 


Rube blinked. “I think so,” he said. 


“Good,” said Asp. “Now look at me closely. Look into my eyes. Do you see them, Rube? What color are my eyes?” 


Rube was gazing intently into her eyes. He seemed focused. Good, she thought. 


“They’re blue,” said Rube. “Kind of a dark blue, like an evening sky. With little hazel flecks. They almost look like stars.” 


“Good, Rube,” she said. “Keep looking. Now, I’m going to ask you a question, and I need you to answer right away, without thinking. Can you do that?” 


“Yeah,” said Rube. “I can do that.” 


“Here we go,” said Asp. “Why do you want to help farmers?”


“Because my family is all farmers, and I hated seeing them work all day every day for next to nothing,” said Rube easily. Hearing it, he seemed surprised, but he kept eye contact. 


Asp smiled. That’s what I was looking for. “My father is a carpenter,” she said quietly. “My mom does odd jobs. I know what you mean.” 


Rube smiled, but it seemed like he was still somewhere else. “Yeah,” he said. He seemed to come to. “How does that question tell you if I’m lying?” he asked. 


Because you wouldn’t have a reason like that if you were lying, she thought. And you wouldn’t have been surprised by your own answer. “It doesn’t matter,” she said. “Your blueprint.” She dug through her bag and pulled out the paper she’d traced the schematics on. 


“Perfect,” said Rube. He reached to take it. 


“Wait,” said Asp. “I, uh, I made some alterations before I knew why you were doing this. Let me fix that.” She drew in support beams at several important parts of the machine’s base and scratched out the weight marked for the counterweight. She wrote in a considerably smaller number and blew on the ink to dry it. “That’s better,” she said. 


“You were going to sabotage the machine?” asked Rube. 


“Before I knew what you were using it for,” said Asp. “I couldn’t go handing a maniac a machine of death.” 


“Fair point,” conceded Rube. “You know, what you did is going to help a lot of people.” 


Asp smiled. “Hey, Rube, are you by any chance forming a company around your new invention?” 


Rube looked uncertain. “Should I?” 


Asp laughed. “If you’re interested, I would be willing to give you part of my payment back as an investment. You use the money to develop and start producing the fertilizer throwers, and we sell them to farmers across the seas.” 


“We could do that?” asked Rube. 


“I mean, I could see where you might not need my money,” she said. “You had enough to fill that big bag.” 


“That was everything,” said Rube sadly. “I figured I’d start over once I had the blueprints.” 


Asp sighed. “Okay, here’s the plan, Rube. I believe in what you’re doing. So I’m going to say, pay me one gold for my work. It was just a morning anyway. Then you take the bag, and you make it into a thriving company selling the machines. And every few months, you send me a bit of money as a return on my investment.” She smiled at Rube. “Then everybody wins.” 


Rube smiled back. “Everybody wins,” he repeated. “Are you sure?” 


Asp laughed. “Never question a good deal,” she said. 


Rube laughed too. “Okay,” he said. “Thanks, Asp.” 


“Thanks for not being a psycho,” she said, smiling. 


Rube doubled over laughing. “Any time,” he said. He hefted his own bag back onto his shoulder, slightly jingling as it settled. He set a single gold piece on the table and slid it to Asp. “If things go well back on Strey, I’ll be back this way to start selling here too. So, maybe see you around.” 


“See you around,” said Asp. She waved at Rube as he left the tavern and set off through the city. 


Asp sat and finished her glass of wine. She walked to the bar and ordered a small loaf of seed bread. She returned to her table and poured another glass. For an hour and a half, she sat leisurely eating the seed bread and finishing the bottle of wine. Other patrons in the bar took little note of her; she registered only as the small girl who kept smiling. 


She paid her tab at the bar, leaving a generous tip, and made her way through the sleepy neighborhood to her parents’ house. She breathed deeply and knocked twice. 


“It’s me,” she called. “Mom said to come by.” 


A moment later, the door opened. Her mother stood before her, a tentative smile on her face. 


“Heather,” she said pleasantly. “Come in.” 


Asp nodded and stepped inside. At the kitchen table, her father sat reading the paper. Lily joined him at the table, picking up some fabric she was sewing. 


“Hi,” said Asp. 


Her father folded the paper and looked blearily at her. “Hello, Heather,” he said, his voice flat. “It’s been a while.” 


Asp smiled, pained. “About three years,” she said. 


“Which makes it so nice to have you back,” said Lily. 


Asp looked between her parents. What’s going on? It’s like they’ve switched places. “It’s not like I was allowed back,” she said. 


“Because of what you did,” said Cedric. 


Is this how it’s going to be? This isn’t worth my time. 


“What your father means to say is,” said Lily, pausing, “that we’ve figured out a few things, and we wanted to talk to you about them. Get a few things straight.” 


“Okay,” said Asp. “What is it?” 


“I went out to the vineyard,” said Lily. “I really adored the wines you brought us, and so I headed out there to meet them and figure out what they knew of you. And wouldn’t you know it, you weren’t honest with us about the vineyard.” 


Asp’s eyebrows shot up. I wasn’t? Shit, what did she find out? “What do you mean?” she said nervously. 


“You didn’t tell us you’re part owner of the place,” said Lily, delighted. “That darling old couple there, they said you saved the business. They said they just love seeing you. I almost got a little jealous.” 


“Oh,” said Asp. “Yeah, I didn’t know how to tell you so you’d believe me.” 


“But Heather, that’s not even the best part,” said Lily. “If you own a whole vineyard, then you have honest money.” 


“I don’t own the whole thing,” said Asp. 


“Heather, you’re missing the point,” said Lily. “We know you’re making honest money, which means you’re not mixed up in crime anymore.” 


Asp stared open-mouthed at her mother. “Uh . . .” 


“I’ve even convinced your father,” said Lily happily. “We want to welcome you back to our home.” 


Asp felt a swirl of emotions rise in her. They want me back? She closed her eyes and tried to focus, but she was overwhelmed by conflicting feelings. They think I’m clean?


“Heather?” asked Lily. “Did you hear me?” 


Asp snapped to. “Yeah, totally. That’s great! I’m just stunned,” she said. She breathed deeply. “Dad?” 


He looked at her casually, as though she weren’t there. “Yeah?” 


“You’re okay with this?” she asked. “You seem pretty standoffish.” 


He frowned. “Heather, you broke my heart when I learned you had lied to me. And unfortunately, I don’t know where the lies begin and end. I don’t know if I can trust you again.” He sighed. “This is a new chance. You show me you’ve changed, and I think we can start back towards where we were.” He looked at her like there was something he wanted to say, but couldn’t. Then his eyes grew fiery. “But if you lie to me again, there are no more chances. So before you get comfortable, you better tell me it’s really over. You’re clean now? You’re not stealing anymore?” 


“Dad, I haven’t stolen anything in over two years,” she lied. She worked up a dejected face. “I don’t like that some of my money started like that. But I bet what I had stolen, and I invested the winnings from the bets. The money’s clean. I’m clean. I’m ready to start over.” 


She saw her father’s face soften. “Good,” he said. “Now give me a hug, sweetheart.” He stood from his chair. 


She raced around the table and locked him in a tight hug. 


“Thanks, Dad,” she said. As she leaned into him, her mind constricted. What happens when he finds out you’re still a con artist? Then all this goes away. She hugged her father tighter. It doesn’t have to. I’ll be careful. He squeezed her ribs until she thought she would burst, and she started to laugh. They’ll never know. 

 

You can read the final chapter of Two Different Things Can Just Be Different here!



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