Six Things I Know Today

Six Things I Know Today 17 MINUTE READ

Minke was awoken by the unsettling feeling of having someone stand over them and watch them sleep. They opened bleary eyes to discover two things: their head was killing them, and there was a statue standing over their bed.

“Oh, gods!” Minke gasped as they sat straight up and threw themselves back from Jan, standing with her usual preternatural stillness at the side of the bed. “Jan, what—?”

“I have six things I know from yesterday,” Jan said, without preamble.

“That’s… very good, Jan, but, ah…” Minke looked around, took in the room with a glance. “…the monk who owns this bed will likely be back for it soon, so perhaps we should adjourn to—”

“Mistakes are actions taken which the person regrets afterwards, based on a personal morality that precludes certain things while endorsing others,” Jan said. “For example, my being alive was a mistake, because the man who made me this way did not morally agree with dying as a direct result.”

Minke swung their legs over the side of the bed and grunted as the world began to tilt and spin.

“Haven’t even had breakfast yet, alright, okay,” Minke groaned. Jan was still staring at them, so they added, “The fact of dying is usually not a part of a person’s moral beliefs. That is to say, one cannot be morally opposed to dying, because there is no better, alternate action to be taken. All things must die.”

“Have they tried living instead?” Jan asked. Minke pushed themself off of the bed and checked for all necessary clothing before moving to the door.

“I’ll have to write that idea down,” they said. “Alright. What’s the second thing?”

“I can hold a finite amount of liquid before expelling it with force and unpleasant bodily feelings,” Jan said. Minke frowned, reached over, and rubbed her back. As ever, the flesh they felt through Jan’s draping of white fabric was a touch cooler than it should’ve been for a person of her apparent age and race.

“That’s a hard one to learn for anyone. Other insights?”

“It could be weaponized,” Jan suggested.

“No,” Minke said. “No, please, gods, no.”

“Fair. I have less unpleasant bodily feelings extinguishing life with my mace,” Jan pointed out. Minke dug their thumbs into the soft tissue behind their ears, just at the back of their jaw, and held the pressure. Their headache stopped pounding in their teeth as much. They didn’t remember the upstairs common area from last night at all. That didn’t bode well.

“How many people did I mortify last night?” Minke muttered. “I’ll start the count at one to include myself, by default.”

“Sex is a popular welcoming gesture among living things,” Jan said next, ignoring Minke’s question, and the headache pain in Minke’s teeth returned in force. Jan appended, “Beautiful living things. Sex as a welcoming gesture appears to be precluded from the ugly.”

“Incorrect,” Minke said, making their way across the room with careful, measured steps. “Not the ugly versus beautiful thing, there are behavioral differences when a person is viewed as— No. One thing at a time.”

Minke stepped over the slumped forms of two people they hadn’t bothered to talk to last night. It had been child’s play to survey the room and pick out the people who were there to join the guild and those who came for free food and alcohol. Minke hadn’t bothered exchanging pleasantries with the latter.

“Sex is an intimate act between consenting adults to express an emotional connection, achieve a physical sensation of pleasure—or, ideally, both.” Minke looked back in time to watch and wince as Jan stepped directly onto the backs of the unconscious revelers to follow. “It is not usually part of a first meeting, though there are exceptions, and it is certainly not expected to be a welcoming gesture.

“And consent,” they added, “is saying yes or no to things with an understanding of what those things are and what the result and potential repercussions of the choice will be.”

“You tell me these things as if they are facts and then people in the world don’t behave accordingly,” Jan said. She peered down at Minke with an expression devoid of malice—or any emotion, really—before finishing, “Have you considered that your knowledge is useless?”

“No, people are just flawed,” Minke said. Then, “Oof. You’re going to have to help me on the stairs. Speaking of which, you’re not experiencing any ‘unpleasant bodily feelings’ as a result of drinking to excess?”

“I have never felt worse in my existence,” Jan said. “But I am putting that distraction aside to continue moving.”

“You terrify me sometimes,” Minke replied.

The guild hall proper, when they reached it, was a scene of utter devastation. Multiple bodies were strewn around the room, on and under furniture, and as Minke passed they made a cursory check for life signs. Sometime around trading barbs with that cleric things had started to get muddy, and they really couldn’t remember the mood as the evening drew to a close. There might have been a bar brawl, for all they knew.

There was definitely a drow at one point, so a sniff for poison didn’t go amiss either.

“Okay, this is amazing,” someone said, behind the bar. Minke looked up to find an athletic human in simple clothes holding a cast iron teapot aloft, one hand wrapped in a rag on the handle. A quick study confirmed this was the monk whose bed Minke had, at some point in the night, requisitioned. “Instant hot tea, all the time, this is the best.”

At his side was the new recruit he’d been talking to last night. She held her hand under the bottom of the pot and bathed it in flame. Huh. Suli. Minke blamed missing that on the fact that, hilariously, the tiefling and eventual drow had made the woman considerably less notable by comparison.

“I’m glad I have one skill that’s valuable to this guild right off the bat,” the Suli woman said, closing her hand into a fist to extinguish the flames as steam poured out of the teapot’s spout. “If all else fails, I’ll replace the stove.”

“Odd people must traffic with odd people,” Jan pronounced. It seemed like an observation about the scene in the kitchen, but when Minke looked over, they realized it was part of the list of known things from the day before. Jan continued, “We are odd people. The non-odd people in Magnimar didn’t want to deal with us anymore. So we came and found more odd people.”

“Very generous of you to say they were fed up with ‘us’ and not just me. But what defines odd?” Minke asked. “If it is defined by its opposition to non-odd, or ‘normal,’ define what normal is.”

“Guard Captain Fullerton was normal,” Jan suggested.

“Guard Captain Fullerton was a doppelganger infiltrating law enforcement in Magnimar at the highest levels.” Minke paused. “But I suppose he played a very boring human man.”

“Odd people must find odder people so that they appear normal,” Jan amended. Minke laughed.

“That is one of the fundamental tenets of the theory of disguise and stealth, yes, so I’ll give you that one.”

Minke picked their way over to the bar and sat down across from the monk and the Suli. After a moment of digging through alcohol-sodden memories from the night before, they recovered two names.

“Kaz,” Minke greeted, “and Safiye. Good morning. Do you by any chance, in all your training, Kaz, or travels, Safiye, know of a hangover cure more effective than just dropping dead?”

Safiye said “no” at the same moment Kaz said, “Lots and lots of water.” Kaz laughed again.

“Tea?” he offered.

“Please and thank you,” Minke said. Glancing over at Jan, they added, “and one for my friend, if you don’t mind. I don’t think she’s had tea yet.”

“I hate liquids,” Jan said.

Minke propped their chin on their hands. “Is that an observation, or…”

“It is an emotion I’ve been feeling for the last nine hours.”

“First tea, huh?” Kaz mused. “I have something in mind. Promise you won’t hate it— and thanks, Safiye.”

Safiye shrugged and turned to stick her hand into the belly of the stove. “No problem. Let’s see about some hot food, too.”

Minke took the brewing time to look around some more. A few people were slipping out the front door— more of those “came for the food” people who hadn’t managed to stumble home under cover of night. The dog who’d curled up by the fire the night before was gone, and Minke supposed the ranger, Loren, with him. No sign of the rogue, the paladin, the cleric, Aridai, or the drow. At an upright and fairly neat table near the fireplace, Durhmol, that curious half-orc woman with the manners of a dwarven banker, was poring over a document with one of the actual dwarves Minke had briefly met the night before. The name had been…

Travis. Travis Nuld, the fighter, a simple man in unornamented armor with a basic magical shortsword and a benign story of mercenary work. Travis, who smelled of lingering chalk dust and wet stone, and always had his eyes on the thresholds of doors and flooring of hallways. Travis, with ink stains still in the seams—

Kaz set a cup of tea in front of Minke before they could spin themself into more troubling thoughts.

“High mountain oolong,” he said. He turned and set another cup in front of Jan. It was Drukat al Khun glass. Minke’s was plain ceramic. Minke enjoyed a private moment of amusement at how even the most disinterested of men couldn’t help but match beauty with beauty when it came to Jan. Kaz gestured for them to drink, but then added, “If you try to add sugar, I’ll have to break your hands.”

“Please, no more broken bones,” came a deep voice from Minke’s left shoulder. They turned to find Aridai approaching the bar, wiping his hands off on a scrap of cloth. Minke had some mortifying shadow of a memory about the man from last night, but every time they tried to grasp what had happened, events slipped away. Likely for the best. Sloping along beside him was a slight woman with mousy brown hair. Judging by her gait she spent more time on water than land, or at least had recently. She looked sheepish and exhausted.

“Ent my fault he took me for serious,” the sailor said, voice croaky from drinking most of the night. “And, hey, we found him before the break went bad, so, it’s all good, right?”

“Spending the night with a broken leg because someone dared you to pet a horse isn’t good,” Aridai mumbled. “Also, how terrifying is that horse? The stall is chewed. I feel there may have been a possibility of the man being eaten before we found him.”

“I just wanted him to go away,” the sailor groaned. She perched on a stool and accepted a one-armed hug from Kaz before she added, “I didn’t think he’d be stupid enough to try it. Or so drunk he’d just lay in the hay and cry himself to sleep. Good job he’s not joining the guild, eh?”

“A guild is a collection of confused people gathering for direction from someone comparatively less confused than they are,” Jan said. “This is distinct from legitimate organizations in cohesion and level of individual responsibility.”

All eyes swiveled to Jan. Minke slurped their tea.

“How do you define ‘legitimate organization’?” Kaz asked, with a guarded look.

“Having matching uniforms,” Jan replied. There was a beat of silence before Safiye burst into gales of high-pitched, unflattering laughter that made the sailor wince.

“There it is,” Minke said.

“So, what, the ‘cohesion’ is matching, and the ‘individual responsibility’ is remembering to put them on?” Kaz ventured. He poured his own cup of tea and waved his hand over it idly to cool it.

Jan didn’t seem to grasp his amusement. “Yes.”

“Look here, we are legitimate,” the sailor said. She tugged at a scarf wound around her neck to show off a patch printed with a stylized rose sewn into the collar of her coat. “Put a rose on, and then we’ll all match. Some get proper fancy with enamels and things, but Fayr helped me make a big stack of these, and you can have one if you want. Any of ya.”

“It’s quite simple, but I like Varisian design,” Aridai said. “I’ll take one, erm… I’m sorry, I didn’t think to ask your name. I heard ‘bleeding on the ground’ and forgot my manners.”

“Dagny,” the sailor said. She tugged a frayed stack of cut and printed fabric from her pocket. “Here, I’ve even got them on me. We can all do an arts and crafts bit until a job comes in. Gods know I’m not fit for anything else at the moment.”

Minke was recalling a simple rose drop earring they could wear to be tasteful about the whole thing when Jan reached out, took two patches, and laid one across their forearm.

“Legitimacy is very simple,” she observed. “I don’t know why anyone would ever be illegitimate.”

Minke was used to correcting Jan’s course when she was close to understanding but not quite on the mark, but at her words Dagny’s whole hungover affect had brightened up, and Minke found they just didn’t have the heart to bring up the reality of aesthetically-aligned but quite illegitimate gangs, cults, and theater troupes.

“You’ve said four things,” they pointed out to Jan, continuing the ritual as they sipped their tea. “Five and six?”

“Alligators are primarily carnivores who consume birds, game, and shellfish where available, but they are also known to eat fruit on occasion,” Jan said, still holding her teacup and studying the color of the tea, but not drinking yet. Minke blinked at her.

“That’s… fascinating?” Minke ventured. They glanced at the others to read some context and got, bizarrely, total understanding off of all assembled but Aridai, who mostly seemed happy to be included at all. “…why is everyone here so acquainted with alligators?”

“Misra Bigtooth,” Safiye supplied. “Gnome druid, met her last night. Scared me to death, with the click of the claws on the wood outside the privvy. She rides one to get around when she’s not feeling up to it, and around the time I had to make a run to piss, no one was feeling up to it.”

“You’re joking,” Minke said. Safiye leaned across the bar towards them.

“With everything you had figured out about me and my father last night, look me in my face and tell me if I’m joking,” Safiye said, tone sharp enough to cut. Minke raised their hands in a placating gesture.

“Fair point, and you’ve never been more serious about anything in your life,” Minke conceded. “Also, I vaguely remember that, and I do hope you find him.”

“His name is Geoff,” Kaz added. “Uh, not Safiye’s dad, the alligator.”

“So, what, this a game you play?” another deep voice prompted. Minke looked back, this time down, to find Travis walking over, Durhmol rolling up a parchment at the table behind him. He raised a dark eyebrow at Minke. “Trivia?”

Jan abruptly drank her tea all at once, like a shot of hard liquor. At Kaz’s raised eyebrows, she said only, “Temperature.”

“That’s… huh,” Kaz replied. “You like it?”

“It hasn’t tried to kill my body yet,” Jan observed. “We shall see.”

“It’s not trivia, per se,” Minke explained to Travis. Due to his height the dwarf was leaning on a barstool like it was the bar, which was somehow more funny to Minke than it should’ve been. “It’s an exercise. I ask her to be attentive to details about the world around her and the people she meets every day, and the next to share with me six of her observations.”

“Minke contends this will help me be more mindful of things happening around me, learn, and that it helps them check on my general outlook,” Jan added. “Which is annoying, so I mostly do irrefutable facts that don’t say anything about how I’m thinking.”

Minke snorted. Safiye gave them a dark look.

“S’easier just not to say anything,” Travis pointed out.

Minke nodded their thanks to Kaz as the monk started refilling cups. “The refusal to speak sometimes says more than any words.”

“You’re gonna be a delight to be around, I can already tell,” Travis said. He pushed off the bar stool and gave Jan a bracing pat on the lower back as he passed her. “You ever need somebody to not say stuff to, I’ll be in the armory, not saying stuff.”

“Dwarves continue to be the best quality thinking beings,” Jan said. “That’s six.”

“That’s an opinion based on pettiness, not an observation,” Minke protested, “nor an ‘irrefutable fact,’ I think was your phrasing?”

“She left us out in the cold, Ari,” Safiye commented to Aridai. “I never thought it would be dwarves to trample the rest of us, it’s humans you usually gotta keep an eye on, but here we are.”

“What’s going on?” Ari asked, just then looking up from his tea.

Safiye rolled her eyes. “Never mind.”

There was a thump from the direction of the front door. Minke pivoted in time to find their esteemed guildmistress, Lady Essa the Red, dragging someone unconscious through it by their boots. The thump had been one coming off and being tossed aside. Essa looked up, shaking her hair out her face, to find some everyone at the bar, and Travis on his way out, staring at her.

“He owes me for damages to the guild sign,” she said. She dropped the man’s feet with another series of thumps, and he groaned. “He tried to prove what a great rogue he was by doing backflips, and kicked it down.”

“Hey, what’s up with rogues?” Kaz asked. “In general, I guess.”

“Are you just going to…” Ari paused, apparently attempting a more diplomatic phrasing, but still concluded with, “…rob him?”

“What? No.” Essa pushed the man to sit against the wall and pressed a hand to one of her many tattoos, this one on her left arm. “That’s barbaric. Now, you: get up and handle this mess.”

With a jolt and a yelp, the rogue sprang upright. He moved with a herky-jerky stiffness, like a poorly-controlled marionette, and began righting tables and kicking debris into piles. As the assembled crowd watched, he wove around other unconscious people to straighten a row of tapestries on the wall.

“Are you magically controlling this man?” Durhmol asked as she approached her business partner, contracts pressed to her vest, horror seeping into her tone as the rogue swung around her.

“It’s repayment through work,” Essa insisted, supervising out of the corner of her eye as she moved to a board over the guild ledger and began pinning up letters. “Like washing dishes when you can’t pay for your dinner, with magic to help with hangover lethargy. Get the broom, Toddard, I need this room presentable by half eleven.”

“I’m a prisoner in my own body!” the rogue cried.

Essa pinned the last letter with a little hop to reach the top of the board. “The broom, Toddard.”

“Awesome, I’m wide awake and horrified,” Safiye declared. “Anybody want some lamb? I’m up to my tits in lamb back here.”

From upstairs came a piercing shriek. Everyone gathered at the bar looked at each other. Travis threw his hands up and made for the back room at a faster pace.

“That… sounded suspiciously like Paladin Selda,” Aridai observed. He leaned away from the bar to glance towards the darkened stairwell. “Should someone… check on her?”

“Based on my own experience this morning waking up in a stranger’s bed, I would hazard that not rushing upstairs and flinging open doors would be wiser,” Minke observed.

“If she screams again, I’ll go up,” Kaz offered. He turned another smile on all assembled as he sipped his tea. Minke averted their eyes. Everything about him said he was so happy to be in a building full of friends again that it hurt to wonder what had happened to the last one. “Besides, random screaming is one of the less weird things I’ve run into since joining. In a good way! I mean, I’ve come in and the whole place has been covered in flowers, one of the horses is some kind of cosmic mentor, and…

“All I mean to say is, you’ll never be bored,” he concluded. Kaz raised his tea glass in a sort of half-toast. “And, hey, in case nobody’s said it yet: welcome to L’ordine Della Rosa, everybody.”

ORIGINALLY PUBLISHED 11/23/2017 | REHOSTED 2/27/2024