Page 20 of Geoffrey the Very Strange
Arguing with himself was only making Geoffrey feel worse on every level. He got up, went to the storage passage where he hung clothes, put on his warded feather-cut coat and hat, and left the cave. A walk would help him think, and bythinkhe meant about something other than a handsome half-demon and his wounded eyes. The sun shone with extra enthusiasm that morning—or it seemed so to Geoffrey—as he fought a worsening headache. All the leftover raindrops from the day before, clinging from branches and leaves—these the sun decided were worth some extra effort, breaking the drops into gleaming prismatic traps for weary, cave-adapted eyes.
He pulled his purple spectacles from his pocket and put them on to cut the glare. Probably better to head into the forest, away from the wildflower field.
He did come out into the sunlight sometimes. He'd gone all the way into town to order shells, after all. At Talondon's. Where Aspic worked.Hen crap.Think of something else.
Beyond that, he did walk in the forest to find specific plants. It was his family's forest, his childhood haunt, so he knew it well. Humans from elsewhere might find the dark pines and close thickets frightening, but for Wurstuffens like Geoffrey, for more generations than anyone could remember, this forest was home.
The occasional dryad waved to him as he passed. The breeze brought him the smell of cooked greens as he walked near the brownie compound hidden behind some of the oldest blackberry brambles. Leaf sprites didn't bother to stop their chatter as he walked below. They trusted him, even if many of the residents in town didn't.
Farther down his favorite deer track, an ominous creak came from high above. Geoffrey stopped to wait in case the distressed branch decided to pick that moment to fall. A sharp crack followed, then another, followed by the thundering passage of a large tree limb hurtling down through the branches. A heavy one, by Geoffrey's estimate, since nothing slowed its passage, and it hit the ground with a thud that vibrated through his boots.
This was normal, too: the fall of dead or damaged branches woven into the fabric of forest sounds. The rhythms of it, the scents, they calmed his racing brain and allowed his heart to beat without feeling like it was trying to hammer his breastbone into ploughshares.
He did need to apologize to Aspic, even if the thought made him miserably anxious. After the workday, after working people had eaten dinner, that's when he'd present himself at Mrs. Pickle's and ask if Aspic would see him. That way, it would be on Aspic's home ground, and he wouldn't have to worry about telling Geoffrey off in front of customers or in front of his fellow boarders. If that's what Aspic ended up doing. It was the most likely outcome, unfortunately.
After waiting long enough to be certain no additional branches were joining the fallen one, Geoffrey continued forward to inspect the damage. Surprisingly little for such a large branch. It had fallen cleanly and only taken out a few smaller limbs with it. He'd leave it for the brownies to cut up for cooking wood. Satisfied, he was about to continue his walk when a bit of brown and white caught his eye. He bent to take a closer look and sighed.
A rabbit lay under one of the branch's offshoots, lying there with the terrible stillness necromancers could scent along the magic currents. Poor bunny. Struck on the head trying to flee. Geoffrey shoved the smaller limbs aside so he could gather the rabbit into his arms, steeling himself against how much warmth still resided in the body and the softness of its fur.
Gathering up a thin layer of magic, Geoffrey chanted out a preservation spell and laid it around the rabbit. No decay would begin, no change in the body or brain at all, unless Geoffrey removed the spell. The sleeping princess of rabbits.
The rabbit might have one last chance if he could get his seashell experiments to work.
"You order whatever you want."Clover pushed Aspic onto the tavern bench and pulled up a stool made for larger customers for himself. "They make some good bread pudding here."
"I should go home." Aspic tried to protest, but it was starting to sound weak even to him.
Heliotrope and Clover had declared that he'd been too quiet for a second day in a row, and Ayla agreed that it was time for a night out. While his coworkers hadn't precisely bullied him into it, they made saying no as difficult as they could.
When Ayla returned from the bar with mead for everyone and a bowl of sesame sticks, Aspic gave up. He told himself it was the best way to visit the town's only tavern, since he hadn't been ready to venture into The White Stag before, not on his own. Timms and Katya came in shortly after, either by chance, or more likely because of a message from Heliotrope, and Clover waved them to the table.
"No Ishi?" Aspic glanced around the common room pointedly.
Katya climbed onto a taller stool she'd dragged over. "He's coming. Finishing some sort of book sorting thing."
"Oh. Well. I was kidding. He doesn't have to come if he—"
"Shut up. Nobody's here that doesn't want to be." Katya pointed a sesame stick at him. "Night out with friends, Aspic. Deal with it."
"It's a wonderful idea. But if this is for me—"
Ishi took the chair on his left, making Aspic jump. Tengus weren't small. How were they so quiet? "Hello. Have you ordered food? Aspic, do you want to share a wheat cake? They're very good here."
Heofficiallygave up and smiled for Ishi. "That sounds perfect."
Loud discussion followed regarding who was ordering what, including Katya yelling over to the lycan barman to ask if they had beef stew on. Aspic let them have at it since they all knew the place while he took everything in. The main room was busy but not as packed as Clover said it got later in the evening. A huge fireplace took up half the back wall with cozy chairs for weary, chilled travelers, though only a small fire burned under the stew pot that night since the weather had turned warmer again.
A rail ran along the walls near the ceiling that supported colorful tiles and plates with painted scenes—cities, countryside, dances, birds, flowers. Maybe there was a meaning behind them, or maybe they were just pretty, but they certainly brightened up a room that was otherwise dark wood and heavy timbers.
They were on a second round of mead when food arrived, and Aspic had to admit to feeling better than he had all day, once he had some excellent wheat cake in him.
"So, Heli feels bad—"
"Clover!" Heliotrope smacked his massive arm. "You promised to leave him alone."
"I said if Aspic doesn't feel like talking about it, we'd leave him alone." Clover shook his head and started again. "Heli feels like her advice to you backfired. About taking food up to Geoffrey. Did something… bad happen?"
"Nothing bad." Aspic squirmed under all the attention. "I just wanted to talk for a bit. Things got… strange. In an upsetting way. I feel ridiculous being so upset about it. It's not like he hit me or threatened to turn me into a newt."
