Beers and Beards

Chapter 63: Stalking Goat

“Of course Mr. Whistlemop.”

“Pleasure ta be o’ service Mr. Whistlemop.”

“I’ll be heading to the bank now. Good work today, Trickledown!” He tossed a gold coin to his scribe. The young gnome caught the coin and returned a two fingered salute.

“Another great day today, Mr. Whistlemop. Here again tomorrow?”

“No. Take the day off! I have some things to work on.” Whistlemop thought for a while and then tossed another gold to the lad. “Go and have a good time, on me.”

“Hah! Thanks boss!”

Whistlemop shooed the boy away. It was important to keep your employees happy. Especially when they were handling your important paperwork. He knew that a lot of nobles and wealthy merchants didn’t look at things the same way, but they were also one really hard year away from being eaten by their employees.

One gold to buy some goodwill? That was nothing. Besides, the boy had been nearly beaten half to death by a [Berserker] last week, and this would placate him before he thought about asking for something truly terrible, like injury pay.

Whislemop closed his cart and applied a few magical defenses. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust the Grand Market’s guards, but certain dwarves could be a bit blind when it came to seeing a wealthy gnomish merchant’s wagon being robbed.

“The bank next.” He led the way through the Market to the bank. The Grand Market, being the center of commerce in Minnova, naturally had a branch office of the Nation of Crack Central Bank. It dealt with levels of wealth that Whistlemop could only dream about. He sent his guards away at the entrance, and was escorted by a smiling [Administrator] to make his deposit at a teller.

Then he went to the washroom and applied his disguise. He could have taken the guards with him to Ralph and Ralph Glassworks, but he preferred to keep the manufacturing location of Whistlemugs a secret. He trusted the guards\' arms with his life, but he didn’t trust their mouths with his livelihood.

After a short while a cloaked gnome in a wide brimmed hat with a giant red droopy moustache made his way down the bank stairs before disappearing down an alleyway. Whistlemop ducked behind a potted plant and looked back towards the bank. Nobody seemed to be paying him attention other than a white goat at the other end of the square. Whistlemop nodded and exited the alley. He made his way confidently through the Grand Market, sidestepping golems and occasionally ducking through shops to dodge any tails. His purposeful meandering eventually brought him to a sidestreet. His steps grew quicker as he traveled towards his destination in earnest.

Then his gait skipped a beat. Down the street was another white goat, staring at him with rectangular, beady eyes. It *maaahd*. It couldn’t be the same goat, could it? Whistlemop stared at it. It had a beautiful beard and a well maintained pure-white coat. It had to be someone’s pet. What was it doing, standing there alone? Whistlemop stepped into another sidestreet and picked up his pace. After a few twists and turns he came back out onto the main street. He looked around and didn’t see anything. He took a sigh of relief that turned into a gasp as he glimpsed a flash of white in the crowd ahead.

He began to run.

Through alleys, through streets. His legs carried him as fast as he could, but his agility was pathetic, and his vitality worse. He was barely faster than a dwarven child, and soon he began to flag. At every turn, he was stymied by a sinister *maaah*.

As he ran down an alley, he careened headfirst into a dwarf walking in the opposite direction. He bounced off with an *ouf* and fell to the ground.

“Excuse me sir, I - I - I’m in a great hurry if you could please…” His voice cracked as he looked up at the dwarf standing in front of him. “Peter?”

“Hello Whistlemop. Where are you running off to?” Pete’s voice grew menacing. “I was hoping we could have a little… chat.”

“Go-goat-” Whistlemop couldn’t speak. He pointed behind him. A white form stood silhouetted at the other end of the alley.

“Oh, that’s just Penelope. Come say hello to Whistlemop, Penelope!”

There was a flash of white. Then it all went black.

—

I stared down at the gnome sitting on the chair in front of me. We were in an abandoned building that Drum had cleared out for me. Whistlemop looked exactly as I remembered, though the stupid hat and fake moustache were new. I couldn’t believe that this bedraggled little plagiarist was one of Barck’s most favoured souls. His eyes were furious, though his gaze turned wary as Penelope came up and nuzzled my hand.

“Good girl Penelope. Here’s a goat treat, how about you stand.. right over there?” I gestured behind Whistlemop and she happily cavorted past him. He shied away as she did, then glowered at me.

“This is kidnapping!”

“In the most literal sense of the word!” I guffawed.

“You think this is funny? I could have you arrested!”

“But you won’t.”

“And why would that be?”

“Because you don’t want me making a fuss about your precious ‘Whistle’ mugs.” I pointed out matter-of-factly. He scowled, but didn’t gainsay me.

I sat down on a chair across from him and pulled over a small side table. I set down a pair of to-go mugs filled with coffee and pushed one over to Whistlemop. “Coffee?”

“You… drink coffee?” He said suspiciously.

“Nectar of the Gods.” I took a deep sip and *aahd*. The gnomes made coffee that was nearly as good as a turkish brew I’d gotten from a street vendor in Istanbul. Not Constantinople. Whistlemop glared at his own mug suspiciously.

“It’s not poisoned.” I pointed out.

“You think I can trust you!?”

“You don’t really have a choice, and besides, you think I can trust you?!”

“Bah!”

*baaaaah* [Translated from Prima Donna Goat] “Your accent is terrible!”

“I - no. I can’t do this.” I pointed at his face. “Can you please take off that ridiculous disguise? You look like Yosemite Sam, and I just can’t take this seriously.”

“Who’s Yosemitesam?” Whistlemop asked, as he pulled off the moustache and threw it to the floor. “Cursed thing was useless anyway, seeing that you found me so easily.”

Actually, Drum’s men found him; Whistlemop was terrible at disguises. It only took a few days for them to suss out his secret route from the bank to his Whistlemug supplier. From there, it was as simple as offering Penelope some goat treats to herd him towards the pickup point. Penelope was damn smart for a goat.

I was mostly sure she wasn\'t my wife.

“Yes, well you are awfully difficult to meet, Whistlemop. I tried sending an invitation, but apparently you don\'t read your mail!”

Whistlemop grumbled. “My mail gets screened. You weren’t important enough to get passed through to me. I’m too busy for a bunch of whiners whining about getting their hands on my mugs."

I took another sip of coffee and savored it. The heavy roast was so thick that cream was unnecessary, and the sweet spices made sugar an afterthought. “Could be worse, they could be clambering to get their hands on your jugs.”

Whistlemop’s eyes narrowed and then he hesitantly took a sip of coffee. “Huh, this is the good stuff.”

“Only the best for my dear friend Whistlemop.”

He snorted. Then took another sip. We sat there in silence for a while, sussing each other out. He broke the silence first.

“I suppose you’re here about the Whistlemugs.”

“Oh, what would give you the idea that I would want to talk to you about MY Pilsner glass.” I growled. I was getting a bit tired of people taking advantage of me. Bran at least had the decency to save up a bunch of gold for me when he was selling my recipes. Whistlemop took my idea and ran with it, and then lied about it to everyone. He likely had zero intention of ever paying me a single silver. Heck, if I hadn’t invented boomdust, he probably would\'ve been wealthy enough to be untouchable by the time I got out. That may have even been his exact plan.

Whistlemop shimmied uncomfortably in his seat; I hoped it was from a guilty conscience. “I would have been glad to pay you something if you asked.”

“I sincerely doubt that.” I looked him up and down. “You’re a penny pincher.” Though a kindly one, mostly. An odd dichotomy. According to Drum, he treated his workers well, didn’t cheat his business partners, and was a fairly above-board businessman, all things considered. I guess the sheer wealth offered by Whistlemugs and my status as a locked up convict had been too much of a temptation. “But you owe me.”

He took a petulant drink of coffee and harrumphed.

“I don’t owe you a single copper. According to the City of Minnova Ordinances, I - “

“According to the City of Minnova Ordinances,” I interrupted, “Chapter 56, Subsection 14, anyone that can prove a product was stolen from them can complain to a [Judge]. I think I have over two-dozen witnesses that the Whistlemugs were my idea and you stole them."

Whistlemop gaped at me with a shocked expression. “You know the Ordinances? I thought you were a vagrant!”

I couldn’t hold back a chuckle. “I prefer to consider myself fragrant."

"Oh, something stinks here, and I\'m pretty sure it\'s your half cocked dwarven intellect! Tell me, have you actually succeeded at anything in your entire life? You should be glad I turned your glass into an icon!" Whistlemop snapped, nettled by my clever wordplay.

I grabbed my chest in faux outrage. "How dare you, sirrah! I\'ve been successful at dozens of ventures. I\'ll have you know that I have complete confidence in my brews and my sharp business mind.”

It was Whistlemop’s turn to chuckle. “Oh really? Now you’re a businessdwarf?”

I *pshawd* “I’ve forgotten more business than you’ll ever know.”

Whistlemop frowned. “Oh, I did hear something about an injury and amnesia. Are you better now?”

“Pretty much.”

“Congratulations.”

“Why thank you. Speaking of which, I heard about some violence at your shop the other day. Is your scribe doing well?”

“He’s much better now. A visit to the [Healer] and a few days off heals most ills.”

We both took sips from our coffee and *aaaahd* in unison.

“Where were we?”

I smacked my head. I really wasn’t very good at this. “I was extorting you for gold.”

“Ah, right. Well… fine!” He threw up his hands. “I’ll give you fifty gold to go away and never darken my doorstep again!”

“That’s pathetic! I deserve at least fifty percent for it.” I banged the table, slightly upsetting the drinks. Whistlemop shied away and then his face turned beet-red.

“Fifty percent!? You barely did anything!I was the one that bet my entire life savings on the Whistlemugs panning out. I was the one standing in front of the crowds each day selling mugs! I was the one putting his face out there for everyone to judge! You took zero risk, and you think you deserve fifty percent? All you did was set off my [Sense - .“ He paused mid rant, and looked at me, then he stared at me.

“Uh, why are you staring at me?” I backed up in my seat.

“You….” He reached towards me, then stopped as his eyebrows knit together. His voice grew contrite. “I got my Specialization after I started selling Whistlemugs, you know. I suppose I do owe you for giving me the idea, and I hate that our relationship has become so strained. It truly was my fault for being greedy, I’m sorry.” He bowed his head.

I stared incredulously. What? “You just used an Ability on me, didn\'t you. What did you see? What’s your game?”

“No game. I’ll give you a dozen mithril for the idea and I’m even willing to forget this entire… inconvenience.”

“Yeah, I don’t trust this sudden change of heart, and I think you can afford a lot more.” I crossed my arms. A dozen mithril was a lot, and I was seriously tempted. But I was done being yanked around, and I didn’t trust this. But… Barck said Whistlemop was placed here to help me.

“I assure you, I have not actually made that much gold.” He held out a hand placatingly. “And I honestly wish to put this entire situation behind us.”

I rolled my eyes. “Psh, you’ve made millions of silver. I’ll bet I could even tell you how much.”

Whistlemop picked up his mug and chugged the entire thing. He wiped his mouth with his sleeve and raised his eyebrows at me as he banged the mug down on the table. “Oh? Want to bet?”

I leaned in. “Yeah, why not? Let’s… bet.”

“Hah! You’ll need the help of Barck himself!” Whistlemop cackled like some kind of 80s cartoon villain.

Indeed. Indeed….