Goblin Gigs: Dungeon Dasher 1 - Preview Chapters

Chapter

Tracking and defeating the bandits had taken most of the day.

I really wanted to get back to the Earth-side and check our gear for metal, but it was late and we were all tired, so we found a place to camp for the night and set up our tents. Luckily, we’d brought the four-person tent we’d picked up in addition to the two singles Heather and I carried — Grimelia said she preferred to sleep in the open where she could hear any dangers.

We had the larger, four-person, tent along — carried by me — at Heather’s suggestion in case it got cold. I’d tried to argue that our single tents and sleeping bags were designed for that, but she insisted.

I let the elf take the larger tent, figuring she’d had enough of a bad experience with the bandits and could use some space and privacy.

Settling in beside the fire, I set some water to heating in one of our lightweight pots, then added it to a bag of dehydrated pasta and meat sauce. Heather, Grimelia, and I had six different meal types between our three packs, each supposedly serving four people. I had doubts about the quantity, but they were certainly light to carry, easy to make, and tasted a lot better than anything I thought I could come up with over an open fire with stuff I could keep unrefrigerated for days.

“Sylwen?” I called out, thinking of a possible problem.

“Yes?”

Sylwen was closely examining the material and construction of her tent.

“Do you eat meat?”

The elf cocked her head. “Why would I not?”

“Oh, great, no problem — just some people don’t eat meat.”

I didn’t want to get caught in a conversation about why I thought elves might be vegetarians or something. I wasn’t sure how Sylwen would take being a fantasy creature in Earth culture.

She cocked her head further then shot a quick glance at the pixie. “Is it … an unusual meat?”

“Um, no, it’s beef — cow?” I hadn’t seen any cows here yet, just horses and sheep — were they a thing here?

“I do eat beef,” Sylwen told me.

“Great — food’s ready.”

Heather had the light-weight camping bowls we’d picked up, along with the sets of folding silverware. They both came in sets of four, so the pixie didn’t get one. She could eat hers off a leaf or something — none of us were particularly happy with her after the little bandit-scouting fuck-up.

“It’s still hot, so give it a minute,” I told Sylwen, pouring out some pasta into a bowl for her and unfolding a spoon.

The elf spent some time examining the bowl and silverware before even sniffing the pasta.

“These are well-made,” Sylwen said, sniffing at a spoonful of the pasta. “And did I see you only added hot water to the … bag? What is that material?”

“It’s … something from where we’re from. Heather and I, I mean.”

I didn’t want to start down the path of explaining plastic, aluminum, and modern manufacturing to an elf. There wasn’t really a way to do that without explaining the whole other-world thing, and I didn’t know how common knowledge of the portals was, so we’d decided to keep it as vague as possible.

“Are you traders, as well as adventurers?”

I shrugged.

“Maybe — if there’s a real market somewhere. Right now, we’re just trying to get settled.”

“You’ve spoken of a home nearby — are you not settled?”

“Yeah, that’s new, though. I, ah, inherited the place here and we just arrived to check it out.”

Sylwen nodded, closely examining the way the fork, knife, and spoon folded back into the handle. “This means you must have family, friends back where you are from?”

I kind of saw where Sylwen was going with this, since she’d already said her family were some sort of merchants — carrying a bag of jewels to a buyer and all.

“Some — but we’re not ready to start importing goods yet.”

Another nod. “When you are, I hope you will speak to me. It would be of benefit to return home with valuable goods, after failing to deliver the gems entrusted to me.”

She held the bowl up to look at its side and bottom more closely. The bowls we’d gotten were some kind of plastic and translucent. Colored green you couldn’t really see through them, but some light got through.

“We will, sure. Would they really blame you for not delivering the gems, though?” I gestured around the camp, trying to change subject. Yeah, I wanted to find things to trade — but it would probably be best to know the goods being traded weren’t going to explode over here. “What with bandits and all?”

“Not entirely, but it would be best to have something positive to offset the failure.”

I nodded and started shoveling pasta into my mouth.

“Two humans, a goblin, and a pixie,” Sylwen went on, though at least she did change the subject. “An unusual group.”

I shrugged. “We just sort of ran into each other.”

“Master saved me from Black Mountain Tribe,” Grimelia said, then started licking her bowl clean.

Sylwen raised an eyebrow and looked at Heather, who chuckled.

“We’ve known each other forever back home,” she said, then grinned, “but he did save me from a goblin the first day I got here.”

“Indeed?” Sylwen looked at Livinia.

The little pixie was holding a chunk of tomato-sauced ground beef the size of her head and taking bites from it.

“Mmf?” She swallowed. “He saved me from being tortured.”

She shot an angry look at Heather, who stuck her tongue out, then resumed eating.

“And now you have saved an elf,” Sylwen said, turning back to me. “And all women — are you starting a harem?”

I hacked on a chunk of pasta going down the wrong pipe and Heather started slapping me on the back. Once I managed to propel the pasta into the fire, I sat back and took a long drink of water.

“Ah, no, it’s just stuff that’s happened — no plan or anything.”

“But they are your women, yes?”

Damn it! How was I supposed to eat my damn dinner if the elf kept making me cough every bite into the fire?

“Ah, no, they’re —”

Something made me look around and I found myself being stared at intently by a human, a goblin, and a pixie — the elf was also staring at me.

“He is Master,” Grimelia said.

“I served Lord Mercer the Elder,” Livinia said. “I will serve Lord Mercer the Younger, as well — in every way he wishes.”

“Lord Mercer?” Sylwen asked, and I was grateful she did, because Heather was looking at me expectantly — and not at all upset about being referred to as one of my women. I figured she was just waiting for me to say something she could embarrass me with.

“That’s not a big deal,” I said. “I inherited the house from my uncle and apparently he had the title, so the town mayor said I got it too.” I shrugged. “I don’t think there’s anything to it, other than my uncle was a big shot around here.”

“Yet,” Sylwen said, “still a lord.” She frowned. “You are a curious man, Alexander Mercer. You surround yourself with women, yet deny they are yours. You carry the title of lord, yet dismiss it as inconsequential. You are a powerful adventurer, yet you remain here —” She gestured at the forest. “— in this backwater.”

“I don’t know that I’m that powerful — I just got here.”

Sylwen raised an eyebrow. “The bandit leader you defeated was an adventurer, as well. He, alone, killed six of my caravan’s guards — yet you ended him. Unarmed and injured.”

Six? How? He hadn’t been that good.

Without the magic taking away my sword, I’d been thinking I’d get him in the first pass just from the way he moved and held his weapon. How could that goober take out six, I presumed, trained guards?

“Six? Really?”

“Yes. The others of his band killed one, perhaps two, of my guards at most each. I wouldn’t be surprised if the six hadn’t really challenged the leader much, either — the ease with which he cut them down.”

Had I just gotten lucky, or was I actually that much more skilled than the average Arctaran, and even other adventurers? Or had Jaspar just been new? No, Mayor Cartnal had told us the bandits had been active for over a year. Maybe Jaspar had been new to the band? Or maybe he’d just been unskilled when he got here and counted on the superior strength and dexterity of an adventurer to lead the band.

I really needed to find someone who knew this adventurer shit and could explain it to me like I was a five-year-old.

I’d tried asking questions of Livinia — you know, the one Uncle Jack left behind to teach me about the world? But she knew fuck-all about the gamified aspects of Arctara. Actually, I was beginning to wonder if Uncle Jack had just left the pixie behind to get rid of her, since she was nothing but trouble and seemed to know fuck-all about nearly everything — including where the journal she said Uncle Jack had left for me might be.

We’d searched the library a little but found nothing.

It looked like everyone was done eating, so I picked up the food pouch and slid the ziploc shut — not because I thought we were going to save it for later or something, but to seal in the scent of the leftovers so as not to attract something unwanted in the night.

“May I?” Sylwen asked, holding out her hand for the pouch.

“Sure.” I handed it to her — the contents had cooled enough so that I didn’t even have to warn her it was hot.

She turned it over in her hands several times, then pulled the zippered top apart.

“Ingenious,” Sylwen whispered. She was slowly opening the bag’s ziptop, then pressing it closed again. “What is this material? It holds its shape, yet is so flexible. Is it some sort of sinew? Fish, perhaps, to be so flexible? Is it from one of those large, sharp-toothed fish? The one’s they say eat all the sailors? I’ve heard their bones are marvelously malleable — like this, yet firm enough to resist opening. And why does it seem to need more force to open than to close?” She peered closely at the opening. “Ah, I see — a tab and slot, with the tab rounded on the front for insertion, yet squared on the back to seal. Ingenious.”

That sort of set the tone for the evening, with the five of us sitting around the campfire, answering Sylwen’s questions. I tried a few times to redirect the conversation, but she was pretty skilled about bringing it back to asking about the modern things we had with us.

Chapter

We arrived at the manor early the next day and I had Grimelia, Livinia, and Sylwen wait at the gate — I didn’t want Sylwen seeing inside the manor, especially the Earth-side. Neither did I want to grant her access through whatever had kept Grimelia out at first.

“You guys wait here — Heather and I will be back in a few minutes, then we’ll head into town,” I said.

Heather and I left our horses with them and walked to the manor.

“Okay, so what’s the big deal?” Heather asked as we walked.

“We need to get rid of anything metal,” I told her. “Or at least any big pieces.”

“Why?”

“You saw what happened to my katana?”

“Yeah, but that was what’s-his-name’s magic glove.”

“The magic from the glove should have stunned me — like it did you. Burning up the katana was some kind of reaction between radiation in the metal and magic — at least that’s my guess. I think they’re like two sides of the same force and don’t like each other very much.” I turned my head to face her. “Any metal from after World War II will probably react the same.”

Heather quickened her pace. “What about the other stuff?”

“What stuff?” I asked, catching up.

We made it to the stairs and through the basement to Earth-side where Heather tossed her backpack to the floor.

“That,” she said. “And our water filters and the cool silverware and … shit, what about our clothes, even?”

I set my backpack down more carefully than she had and propped her longbow against the wall.

“I don’t know,” I admitted. “I don’t know how the whole thing works even with steel — but the only thing that burnt up over there was my sword. I think the magic hit my arm, too, at least, and my shirt didn’t blow up. Maybe it has to have a certain level of radioactivity — we’re going to have to do some research and — what the fuck? What are you doing?”

Heather was pulling a foot from the leather pants pooled around her ankles — her leather jerkin and the rest were already in a pile and she was in only a bra and panties.

“What are you doing?” I demanded again.

“Getting rid of anything that might blow me up.” She felt at her jaw. “Do you think fillings are a problem?” She grasped at her breasts. “Fuck — underwire?” Her hands shot behind her.

“Wait! I … don’t know what else might be affected, but … let’s not rush.”

The bra didn’t come off, which really didn’t change me staring. It was a matching set of underwear. Pink. With lace. Almost see-through lace … nope, it was see-through lace. There were darker patches behind the lace where … fuck.

“Can I help you with something?” Heather asked, lips twitching.

“I … ah … underwear,” I muttered, forcing myself to drag my eyes away from the sight of Heather.

“You’ve seen me in bikinis smaller than this, geez. Get over it.”

“Bikinis don’t have lace.”

“Seriously? Show me on the doll where the lace hurt you.”

“That’s not fair!” Yeah, she wore bikinis that showed more skin … but that was skin you’re supposed to see — this was skin you’re not supposed to see. And other things … shadowy things. “Just … didn’t you bring any underwear that’s not, you know…”

I gestured at her without looking.

“Not what?”

“Sexy.”

There was silence for a moment.

“You think I’m sexy in this?”

Fuck.

I am not an idiot — mostly.

I had enough experience with women to know there was no good answer to that question.

Do I say, “Yes, you’re sexy in that,” implying she’s not usually? It’s like the “Do these pants make my ass look fat?” question. Saying no leaves room for interpretation that the pants aren’t required for that.

Or, do I tell the truth — one I’d been trying to suppress for a while — that Heather was sexy all the time. She was sexy in lacy pink underwear. She was sexy in her LARPing armor, especially the tight, tight leather pants. She was sexy in the stupid ‘50s reject uniform they made her wear at the diner.

Fuck, Mike is gonna kill me if I do anything.

“Don’t you, um, have any normal underwear with you?”

Yeah, because white cotton, virginal underwear wouldn’t be sexy on Heather … fuck.

“Alex,” Heather said, and I had to look at her. She wasn’t even trying to cover up or anything, just standing, one hand on the hip that cocked to one side. “I think it’s time for you to listen to me very closely.” She licked her lips and took a deep breath. “No. I did not bring anything less sexy with me. Every stitch of underwear I have here is sexier than this. I packed to come spend the night, one night, in a haunted house with you … and all I brought was sexy underwear. Six sets, because I didn’t know what would work.” She paused a moment. “Alex … I chickened out that first night here, but exploding clothes were an excuse to get half-naked in front of you, because if something doesn’t break soon … I am going to explode.” She closed her eyes. “Please don’t make me an idiot.”

I swallowed hard and tried to be good. I really, really did.

Fuck it.

I strode toward Heather, mind filled with memories.

Laughing, joking, just hanging out. Shy smiles that I’d suppressed the possible meaning of. Holding her while she cried when her hamster died. Long, late-night talks on the phone where we discussed the future — and now wondering if she’d been picturing me as she described some of those dreams. And how I’d possibly managed to not picture her in mine.

I suppressed a few other images — like Mike burying me face down in a shallow grave.

All those things crossed my mind as I crossed the distance to Heather, wrapped my arms around her, and pressed my lips to hers, whispering, “I’m the idiot.”

I’ve kissed my share of girls. Maybe — I don’t know what the target number is. Kissing Heather was different. I don’t know why, but I would have been perfectly happy staying there, kissing her, for hours — unlike with those other girls when I had a certain urgency to move on to other things.

“About time,” Heather whispered as the kiss broke and I pulled back to look into her eyes.

“I’m older than you — any other time and I’d be in jail.”

“Hmph. You wouldn’t do a little time for me?”

I leaned in to resume the kiss, but Heather put a hand on my chest.

“Uh uh.”

“What? Why?”

“Because the others are waiting for us and another kiss is going to wind up with them waiting a lot longer. And my first time is not going to be in your uncle’s magic basement.”

First time.

Yeah — I was in deep now.

“It’s my magic basement now,” I said.

Heather shook her head, but she was grinning. “Just like a guy. Ignore me for years, then be all rush-rush.”

I stepped back and Heather reached for her pile of clothes.

“So you’re not worried about your clothes exploding?”

“Not really.”

Have you ever watched a girl putting on tight leather pants? I recommend it. There’s jiggling and shimmying.

“If anything I’m actually wearing was going to explode,” Heather went on, “I think it would have when that bastard zapped me, right?”

“Maybe?”

“We talked about that steel thing in Physics last year and, from what I remember, the nuclear shit put radiation in everything, but not all the same amount. Like, aluminum has way less than steel, or something.”

I winced a little at the reminder that when Heather talked about her classes “last year,” she was talking about high school.

“So I figure steel is an absolute no-no and we should do some research on how much of that radiation winds up in other things. I think they said the amount in aluminum depends on how many times it’s been recycled — something about the radiation shit being in the air and more getting in every time they melt it.”

“That’s kind of scary, since we, you know … breathe.”

“Yeah.” Heather looked up from fastening her pants, saw me watching, and blushed.

It was kind of adorable that she’d just very deliberately stripped and shown herself to me, but blushed now. I guess all her bravery was used up in that — I know mine would have been. Damn, that must have taken some guts.

“Are you going to stare at me all the time now?”

“Probably.” My gaze traveled up, over her bare stomach to the lace of her bra.

Heather ducked her head, but she was smiling. “Good.” She picked up her top pieces and started putting those on. “Thanks for not freaking out.”

“Oh, I’ll be freaking out … at some point. Probably when Mike says he’s coming home.”

“Mike already knows.”

“What?”

“Yeah, he talked to me about it a couple years ago.” She grinned. “Told me to tone things down so you wouldn’t get arrested.” She frowned. “After listening to me complain about you not getting it the last few months, he’s worried you might be a moron … or gay.”

“He knows I’m not gay.”

Heather raised an eyebrow, fastening her belt.

“I’m questioning whether I’m a moron, myself,” I admitted as all the little things started to add up and I couldn’t believe how I’d missed them.

No, I hadn’t missed them, I’d actively and deliberately misinterpreted and ignored them.

Moron.

I got rid of anything I thought had enough steel in it to be a problem. It seemed likely Heather was right — if any of the typical gear we carried was enough to set off the conflict with magic, we would have seen it when the bandit leader zapped her. We did drop the hunting knives we’d brought — neither had exploded but that was a lot of metal and I didn’t want to find out the hard way if someone targeted one with magic.

Packed up again, we crossed to the Arctara side and left the manor.

“Why now?” I asked.

“Why what?”

I gestured back at the manor. “Why break through my stupid here and now, when we’re headed right back out again?”

Heather shrugged. “I told you I was planning to the other night and chickened out. We haven’t exactly been alone since then.”

“Yeah, but there probably would have been time to —”

“Alex. Do I need to give Grimmy my underwear?”

“What? No! Why?”

Heather sighed and stopped walking, glancing toward the gate where the others waited.

“Alex, short of massive brain trauma, there’s no way you don’t know what Grimmy wants from you. I can understand you ignoring my hints, but she’s not exactly subtle.”

“Ah. So you didn’t want me to maybe start something with her and then you’d be taking me from her or something. Got it, but not something you needed to worry about.”

Heather sighed again and shook her head. “No — I just wanted to be first.”

“First? What do you think, I’m going to leave you for a goblin when I just now got you?”

“Oh, you got me, do you?”

“Hopefully?”

Heather chuckled, then looked toward the gate where the goblin, elf, and pixie were watching us.

“Alex, have you talked to Grimmy at all about Arctara?”

“A little, but she doesn’t have a class, so she doesn’t know how —”

“Not the stat sheets and shit,” Heather interrupted. “About Arctara — the culture, how the people work?”

“Not really.”

“She and I talked a lot on the way back from where you rescued me.”

They certainly had, the whispering had been nonstop.

“Things are different there … here,” she corrected, looking around. “She came to me after you guys rescued me to talk. She wanted to apologize for pursuing you when she didn’t know about me. She assumed I’m First-wife.”

“First —”

I wasn’t sure which of those two words shocked me the most in this context. Wife was big … first had some other implications.

“Yeah, I was expecting that look. Apparently, it’s not uncommon here for a guy — women, too, I guess — to have multiple … relationships. Especially adventurers.”

“Why adventurers?” It seemed like the safest place to take this conversation.

“Power? Money? Maybe just … look, you rescued Grimmy, you rescued Sylwen, you rescued me.” She put both hands low on her stomach. “Let me tell you, as a fellow rescue, that does something to the insides.”

“Really? Like what?”

No, I wasn’t going to have sex with Grimelia or Sylwen just because they were grateful I’d rescued them, but it’s nice to be wanted.

“You know when you microwave one of those little marshmallow Easter things?”

“We do that every year,” I reminded her.

“Well, days later, my insides are still like that, so be nice to Grimmy. And Sylwen.”

“Sylwen is going to be staying in town, so we probably won’t see each other much, and maybe we can get Grimelia back to —”

Heather sighed. “Think about what we know about this world, Alex. Where’s Grimmy going to go? Her tribe’s all dead, the place she was born is months of travel away. She knows no one but us. She has no one but us.”

“I told her she can stay with us as long as she wants.”

“Sure. Stay here. Pining after you for years, because who else is she going to fall for her? Who else is going to treat her like anything but a monster? Maybe you could set her up in a room at that tavern you told me about to earn her keep — is that what you want?”

“No!”

“See? You care about her. She’s a good person, she’s fun, and don’t try to tell me you don’t find her attractive — I’ve seen you staring at her tits.”

“I —”

“Oh, stop — they’re nice tits. How she keeps them standing up like that when she’s never worn a bra, I don’t know. Maybe she’ll have some tips for me.”

I was stuck back on Heather saying Grimelia’s tits were “nice”. I’d never expected her to —

“Get that look off your face — I don’t like girls. Jeez, I can’t recognize she’s attractive without you thinking I want to fuck her? I mean, when you see a good-looking guy, you don’t … you can’t, can you?”

“Can’t what?”

“You can’t look at a good-looking guy and acknowledge a simple ‘Hey, that’s a handsome dude,’ without getting the gicks.”

“Gicks?”

“The gay-icks.” She shook her head. “Guys are stupid.”

After the last twenty minutes, I could not argue that point.

“Anyway, I’m not saying you have to fuck her, but if it happens, you don’t have to worry about waking up in a pool of blood. And if you do fuck her, it better not be just fucking, understand? I like her.”

“I understand.”

I didn’t, but it was the appropriate thing to say.

Heather glanced at the girls waiting for us again.

“Alex, if nothing happens, I’m okay with that — more than okay, because the idea of sharing you with someone else has only been in my head for a day or two, but…” She looked around. “This place is different.”

Arctara was different, I’d give it that, but while Heather might have only had the thought in her head for a day or two, I was only going on six and a half minutes or so.

“Oh, and, in case you hadn’t figured it out yet, Sylwen is moving in with us.”

“What are we doing now, running the Mercer Home for Wayward Supernaturals?”

Heather shrugged. “What if that’s what’s needed?”

I sighed. “What about Livinia?”

“Fuck the pixie.”

I raised my eyebrows. “Wow. You’re really into this whole harem-thing. I wasn’t expecting that, but —”

I broke off at Heather’s glare.

“How would that even work, anyway?” I asked. It actually was bothering me … I couldn’t figure it out. “Do you think she … grows?”

“Are you still on that?”

“Come on, don’t tell me you haven’t been wondering.”

Heather sighed. “I don’t want to know.” She glanced at the group by the gate where the pixie was hovering above the lead horse’s head. “Maybe she … stretches?”

“Stretches?”

“Maria’s brother left an order open on his laptop once. He ordered some sort of … thing.”

“Oh.” I cleared my throat. “You, ah, seem to have seen a lot of weird shit on the internet.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Is that a problem?”

“No, I, ah, just wanted to figure out what I’ve gotten myself into.”

The corner of Heather’s mouth crinkled.

“Me,” she said. “You’re going to get yourself into me. Any other answers matter?”

I shook my head. “Are you sure about Sylwen moving in?”

Heather rolled her eyes. “Look, new rule. I will tell you exactly what’s going to happen with every girl you know and you just nod, okay? Young, female elf, no guards, alone for months waiting for her family’s next caravan to come through, big bag of jewels? Yeah, let’s send her into that town alone, especially after those fucking bandits.”

“Well, if you put it —”

Heather pressed a finger to my lips. “Uh uh. Nod.”

I sucked her finger into my mouth, trapped it with my teeth, and nodded, pulling her finger up and down with me.

Despite my best friend apparently thinking there was a possibility I might be gay, I had not done poorly with the ladies during my college years — at least starting things. Then things tended to go south pretty quickly — usually because they said I’d become distant and they thought there was someone else.

Fucking moron.

Heather flushed and swallowed hard, but she didn’t drop her eyes from mine.

“That’s … that … later…”

I flicked my tongue against her fingertip several times.

Heather glanced quickly between the three girls waiting for us and the manor, then whined.

“I have an idea,” I whispered around her finger, biting down just a little harder.

“Wh — wha —”

I pulled her finger from my mouth, but kept a hold on her hand.

“We invite Sylwen to stay here while she waits for her family, put off town until tomorrow, and spend the night here. Fix up two more bedrooms for Grimelia and Sylwen, have some dinner, then have a private … talk.”

“Y — yea — yeah,” Heather stammered. “Yeah, I’ll go look for more sheets while you talk to Sylwen.”

I released her hand, took her by the shoulders to turn her toward the gate, and gave her a little shove.

“Talking to a girl about moving in sounds like a job for First-wife.”

Heather gasped, but she didn’t turn around — instead she started walking toward the gate.

I turned and headed for the manor. My manor.

And neither “first” nor “wife” shocked me this time. While Heather and I had stared into each other’s eyes, I’d realized that in all my hopes and dreams for the future, she’d always been part of everything. I’d known she was always going to be part of my life, I just hadn’t known her role.

Chapter

“How is the print so uniform? It’s as though the scribe’s hand never varies in their formation. And the paper’s edge!” Sylwen ran a fingertip over the edges of the pages. “It’s as though it were cut all in one with a single stroke.” She looked back at the shelf, then cocked her head. She set the book she held back on the shelf and reached for another, gasping as she brought it closer to her face.

At least twenty minutes after inviting Sylwen to stay with us, getting her accepted by the manor’s wards so she could come through the gate, double-checking she had no magic items that might react poorly with any radiation on the other side, explained the whole other-world thing … and we still hadn’t picked out bedrooms for Grimelia and Sylwen.

We made it to the stairs, but the doors to the library were open. With a high-pitched “Books!” the elf rushed into the library and began examining spines.

I sighed and glanced at the book she was holding. This looked like fiction, and it was newer. Not leather-bound, or even cloth, just an average, paper dust jacket. Personally I thought the old, hand-done leather covers were a lot more impressive than some mass-produced cover art.

“This is … it’s … Alexander, why do you store these like this where no one can see? This painting … it’s incredible. So detailed — and there’s another one, and another. Are they all so finely done?”

I shrugged — they were books. Dust jackets. Whatever.

Sure, Sylwen’s enthusiasm was adorable, but I had books on my phone and they were a hell of a lot more convenient than an entire room of two-pound tomes.

“Alex?” Heather said. “Why don’t you start dinner while I discuss books with Sylwen?”

I nodded, even though I knew the two were probably going to be in the library until dinner, ignore the first three or four calls to dinner, and return there after dinner.

“How is it so smooth? It’s as though the paint is a part of the paper.” Sylwen jerked her fingers away from the book’s cover. “Is it acceptable to touch it? I won’t mar the painting, will I?”

I shook my head as Heather started reassuring the elf that it was okay to touch the books. Grimelia and Livinia followed me to the kitchen.

I’d gotten six steaks when we went shopping, since there were three of us, figuring it for a couple meals — now there were five people and we’d eaten three steaks the other night. Maybe the pixie didn’t count as a whole person for steak purposes, so I decided I’d fix the three steaks for Grimelia, Sylwen, and Heather, while the pixie and I had hot dogs.

It was definitely time to go shopping again, though, now that we had two more mouths to feed, even if the pixie didn’t eat that much.

I wrapped the last of the potatoes in foil and trimmed up the whole package of Brussels sprouts we’d bought, then wrapped them in foil, too, with some butter and garlic. I added honey and balsamic to my mental grocery list and moved figuring out the gas line to the stove higher up on my to-do list. I’d started cooking in college to save money — why pay twenty bucks for a restaurant hamburger when you can have filet mignon and better sides than fries for the same cost at home? I enjoyed it, but only with the right equipment. Camp stoves were fine for camping, but this was home now.

I stopped and looked around the kitchen.

Home.

I was already thinking of the manor as home — more than my apartment.

Yeah, it needed a lot of work. And newer furniture. And a working stove … and water heater.

But it was mine.

I was smiling as I brought the food out to the front porch, where the camp stove was still set up, and started the burner.

Grimelia joined me there, but seemed to sense I was thinking about something and just sat on the steps staring out over the manor’s overgrown lawn while I puttered with the stove, food, and utensils, getting everything ready to pop onto the grill.

I had a lot to think about, and once I got the wrapped potatoes nestled around the edge of the camp stove’s flame, I had time while they cooked to do it.

Heather and I moving our relationship … someplace, had me excited and a little scared. The last thing I wanted was to fuck up how good we were together — and fucking could absolutely fuck things up.

The memory of Heather in those lacy pink underthings tempered my concern — we’d just have to be careful, and I knew Heather wouldn’t want to ruin what we had either. We were just making it into something more.

I glanced at the little goblin, sitting on my front porch and staring out into the night.

Heather’s attitude about Grimelia was unexpected. She seemed to think me and Grimelia hooking up was a given — and maybe it was. She made some strong arguments — or at least the part of my brain that controlled my dick thought they were strong.

Grimelia was adorable.

Short and green, but adorable. Her long, shiny black hair was amazing — she normally wore it in a sort of ponytail tied at multiple points, then folded it so it was doubled or tripled up on itself and tied it again, but she’d undone those ties the other night when we were watching the movie, and, unrestrained, her hair fell in a wavy stream almost to her ankles.

Her face was very pretty and the green skin didn’t bother me at all.

Okay, the green skin was sort of a turn on and I’d spent more than a few idle moments wondering what it would feel like to run my hands over it, cupping those breasts — I wondered if the darker green of the tips felt different —

“What?”

Grimelia had turned to face me and I was staring at her tits. I moved my eyes up to her face.

If there was one thing unattractive about the goblin, it would be the sharp, pointed teeth … and there was something off about her tongue, but I couldn’t put my finger on it.

The goblin was still looking at me expectantly, but I didn’t think “nice tits” was the appropriate response right now. Heather might not be right about whether Grimelia and I would wind up having sex one day, but the little goblin deserved better than that, and I hadn’t just been thinking about those tits.

“I just think you’re very pretty and I was enjoying looking at you.”

The goblin’s mouth fell open and … damn, there were a lot of those teeth. She lowered her gaze and looked away, but I thought her shoulders hunched a little.

“Grimelia?”

In my experience, it wasn’t normal for a girl to look unhappy and upset when you tell her she’s pretty.

I set down the steak I was about to put on the camp stove’s grate and sat beside her.

“Grimelia?” I repeated, then, when she didn’t answer, I decided to go full-goblin back at her. “What?”

“Master lie.”

I frowned. “What do you think I lied about?”

“Human girl pretty. Elf girl pretty. No one think goblin pretty, not even goblin.”

Wow. Okay, that was unexpected.

“What do you mean?”

“Goblin good for fuck in dark.”

I remembered what the guard captain, Jeffault, had said that first day and started to get angry again.

Goblins seemed to be hated and used in Arctara, and there were probably some perfectly good reasons for that — murder, robbery, rape, whatever. The male goblins we’d met so far were certainly worthy of those feelings, but Grimelia had done none of that, so far as I knew. She certainly didn’t deserve being made to feel she was ugly and only good for fucking in the dark.

I moved in front of her and knelt down — even with her sitting on the steps I was still looking down at her. She jumped a bit when I put my fingers under her chin, but went along with the light pressure I applied to look up at me.

“Grimelia,” I said, looking her right in the eye. “I don’t know all the things that happened in Arctara between humans and goblins. I never knew a goblin until I met you. So I don’t have any of their bad opinions to color things.” I licked my lips. “You are beautiful. Your eyes are gorgeous, your hair is fucking amazing, and I could look at you all day. But more than that, I like you. You. You’re fun. I love how you ask what everything is over here and how you know so much about sneaking through the woods, and kept me from stepping in whatever that shit on the way to the bandit camp was.”

“Big shit. Stink stay … three moons.”

Honestly, it had looked like a rock and I’d just been about to kick it out of my way when Grimelia stopped me. I didn’t really get how she described the creature that left it, but apparently, breaking the hard shell that encased the shit would let loose a nasty stench.

I nodded.

“Not to mention that you’re a bad-ass.”

“My ass bad?” The goblin twisted around. “What bad?”

I laughed. “No, that’s something we say on Earth … in Earth? Whatever. It’s something we say when someone is … tough and brave and does amazing things. We’ve fought goblins and bandits together. You helped me save Heather. We got into a barfight together — and went to jail together. Grimelia, you’re my friend and I think you’re beautiful.”

The little goblin’s face softened and her eyes went wide.

“Master fuck now?”

I let my head sag, then jerked it up at muffled laughter.

“Sorry. Sorry,” Heather said, covering her mouth with her hand. Sylwen was next to her, lips twitching a little. Maybe. “We didn’t know there was a moment happening out here — tried to back up, but, well — Grimmy, we’re not laughing at you, you are beautiful.” She gestured. “Come on, I’ll explain some Earth-things to you while Alex finally gets our dinner cooking.”

Chapter

“Oh, shit, that’s cold,” Heather whined, coming out of the bathroom.

I’d showered before her and waited in bed, trying not to get too anxious about what was coming — and to stay awake, because we hadn’t gone to bed right after dinner. Maybe just waiting in bed wasn’t the most romantic thing but joining her in the cold shower didn’t seem to fit with the theme — and watching movies with an elf, goblin, and pixie didn’t exactly prep me for date night.

First there was getting rooms set up for Grimelia and Sylwen — Livinia had her own space someplace, presumably, since she’d been living here for seven years waiting for me.

Then we had to show Sylwen the rest of the house — and explain how the lights, fridge, and everything else worked. After which, Grimelia asked if we were going to watch another movie, and Sylwen asked what a movie was, and then, of course, we had to watch a movie.

Heather picked the movie again and she chose The Princess Bride, which I thought was a brilliant choice, because it didn’t have a bunch of modern scenes where we’d have to pause and explain — and, I thought, the story was one that should be pretty universal.

All that was on top of breaking camp early this morning, loading horses, riding most of the day, unloading the horses, and figuring out what the hell we were going to do with the horses, because we hadn’t been expecting to be staying at the manor with a bunch of horses.

A quick ride around the grounds showed that the fence was intact the entire way, so we blocked off the gates, stowed the horses’ tack on the front porch, and let them loose — whether they’d come back to us in the morning or just keep running around the yard, I didn’t know, but I figured the worst case was I walk into town and come back with someone who knew shit about horses.

“The water heater’s high on your list, right?” Heather asked, squeezing her towel around the tips of her hair that had gotten wet in the shower.

She was in her loose pajamas again and not anything lacy, but she was still sexy — maybe sexier. Somehow the hints were more enticing than the show.

“Right at the top — I guess it’s the gas company we should call? I’ll look it up in the morning and get them out here.”

I yawned.

Heather tried to stifle it, but yawned, too.

“Shit … don’t do that.” She took a deep breath and winced. “Alex…”

I chuckled, seeing the worry cross her face.

“It’s been a long day,” I agreed. “Three long days.”

A day to travel to the bandits’ area, then the day of the fight, then another long ride home.

“I want to! It’s just…”

“Long day.”

Heather nodded. “You’re not going to wrap yourself up like a burrito again to keep from accidentally touching me, are you, though?”

I flung the covers off me — luckily, I’d put on boxers and pajama pants just in case things weren’t going to go that direction tonight.

“Kissing you has remedied my cuddling aversion,” I assured her.

“Are you sure?” She was grinning. “I can give you another dose if you need it.”

“Oh, I need it. Daily prescription — every two to four hours.”

Heather’s face sobered. “Are you mad?”

“Of course not.” I kept my face accepting, but silently cursed guys who’d get mad because their girl was too tired — especially when they were too. Maybe I’d be irked if it was every night for a year or something. “I’m tired too.” I stretched the aches that had accumulated through three days of riding, fighting, then riding again. “How my feet hurt this much when I was in a saddle, I don’t know.”

“Your feet hurt, too?” Before I’d even finished nodding, Heather was in the bed, her head toward the other end and her feet landed on my chest. “Good. Rub.”

I chuckled and started on her right foot, then groaned as Heather’s thumbs dug into one of my arches. From that and Heather’s matching groans, anyone listening from outside the bedroom would probably be convinced we were having sex.

“Throw me a couple pillows?” Heather asked. I freed one hand to slide her pillows within reach and she slipped them behind her with one hand to prop her head up while not stopping my foot massage either. She let her head fall back and closed her eyes. “There’s no way sex feels better than this anyway.”

I raised an eyebrow. “You think?”

Heather shrugged. “I have limited comparisons, but —”

I dug my thumbs in at her heel and rolled them slowly up her foot to just below her little, pink toes.

“Oh, Alex,” Heather groaned. “If you do that again, I’m gonna —”

I did it again. And again, then began stretching and squeezing each of those little, pink toes, one at time.

“Shit,” Heather whispered. “I knew I should’ve stripped for you on my birthday.”

“You could’ve gotten a foot-rub without stripping.”

“You could’ve done this for the last six months and not ripped my clothes off?”

Heather shifted and that drew my attention to the view of the soft, creamy thigh I had up the open legs of her shorts.

“Nope. First thing tomorrow night, I’m ripping your clothes off.”

We fell into a foot-rubbing silence punctuated only by groans for a while, then that slowed as fatigue took over and Heather crawled up the bed to lay next to me. She put her head on my chest.

“Are you sure you’re not mad?” Heather asked. “It’s just I’m really tired and it’s … my first time, you know?”

I kissed the top of her head. “I’m exhausted, too, and I’d rather you got my best work.”

I felt her cheek move against my chest as she grinned. “Yeah? I’m gonna get your best?”

“Always.”

“Setting some high expectations, there, my dude.”

“I’ll try to live up to them.”

“Mmh.”

I drew some other pleasant noises from her by running my fingertips over her back.

“What’s the plan for tomorrow?” Heather whispered.

“Gas,” I said.

“I don’t think dinner was that bad.”

“Fuck you, little girl.”

Heather chuckled. “Promise?”

“That’s gonna get you my right-now, not my best, if you keep it up.”

“Mmh. So hot water and a stove?”

I nodded. “At least get an appointment with the gas company or something. Then I’d like to sell the gold we got to Daryl and hit the sports store again.”

We only had five gold crowns from the bandit camp, but it would buy us some gear we could pick out with the new knowledge about metals and radiation.

“Stuff that won’t blow up?”

Another nod. “We’ll do some research in the morning and find out levels of radiation different materials have — then we’ll know what to avoid.”

“Can we get some more of those teriyaki chicken meals we had on the way to the bandits? That was good.”

“Sure — whatever you want.”

“And we need more groceries.”

I nodded. “Once we know when the gas will be on, we’ll be able to get more variety.”

“So farm gold in Arctara and recuperate here? That’s the long-term plan?”

“Yeah.”

“A lot of work to do on this place.”

I nodded.

Heather snuggled closer to me and mumbled something, but I was already falling into sleep.

*

“You will sell your gold coins to this Daryl?” Sylwen asked over breakfast. “Are they not already coins? Is this Daryl a money changer of some sort?”

“Sort of,” I told her. “We don’t really use coins like that here, so it’s really that we’re selling him the gold.”

Sylwen nodded while I added a bunch of breakfast things to my mental grocery list. The dozen eggs we’d gotten a few days ago were gone after fixing breakfast for five people, and I’d had to stretch what were left with some milk for this meal.

“Does the merchant, Daryl, purchase other wares as well?”

I chuckled. “It’s a pawn shop, I’m guessing he’ll buy just about anything.”

“What is a ‘pawn shop?’”

Heather jumped in. “It’s a place where you can sell things or borrow against them — if we wanted, he’d give us local money for the gold coins and we could pay that back later to retrieve the gold. He’d offer less for that, though, and charge interest — and if we didn’t pay back the loan, he’d keep the gold.”

Sylwen nodded. “Ah. We have money lenders such as that as well.”

“What do you call them?”

“Money lenders.”

“Oh.”

Sylwen reached into a pocket and held out two stones to me — both rounded smooth and about the size of my pinkie tip. One was red and one was blue, and I had a moment of wondering which would wake me up thinking Arctara was a dream.

“That’s okay, you won’t really need local money,” I told her. “Heather and I will cover everything over here, the gold’s more than enough to pay for our needs — for quite a while.”

“This is payment,” Sylwen said. “For my rescue and for my lodgings here with you until my family’s first caravan arrives next season.”

“You don’t need to —”

Sylwen’s eyebrows went up and I sighed. I had difficulty accepting gifts myself, so I could recognize it in the elf.

“Thank you.”

I held out my hand and she turned hers to drop the two stones into my palm.

“Do you deem it sufficient?” Sylwen asked.

“More than sufficient,” I assured her.

“Excellent. Then we proceed with no talk of debt or gratitude to color things. Yes?”

I slid the two gems into the pocket already filled with the five gold coins we had from the bandit camp. I guess I’d have to look up the price of the gems — I thought they were ruby and sapphire, from the color.

“Proceed with what?”

Sylwen shrugged. “Whatever occurs.”

Fair enough, I guess.

We finished breakfast and cleaned up, which consisted of Heather washing the camp pots in the sink and Grimelia and I packing up the disposable plates, cups, and silverware in a garbage bag to take into town. I wondered if the manor got garbage service — another thing to add to the list, or I’d be hauling trash in my Prius every few days.

Grimelia put on her cancer-kid clothes. Heather’s spare jeans and t-shirt were okay for Sylwen, though they were a little small in length — the jeans fit okay at the waist, no tighter than they were on Heather, maybe a little loose, but I wasn’t moron enough to ever say that. The elf’s height had them looking like capris, stopping at mid-calf. The t-shirt fit better, since Sylwen had a smaller bust than Heather, but the height again worked against her and she’d flash an inch or two of skin between jeans and shirt when she moved in certain ways.

Heather caught me looking and snorted, shaking her head.

“You are so lucky we found Arctara and I talked to Grimmy before we got together,” she whispered, “because if you looked at some girl in the mall like that, I’d have to kill her.”

“It’s not that I want to do anything with her,” I whispered back. “It’s just —”

“You have a thing for little unintended glimpses,” she interrupted me. “I know.”

I did, but how did she know that?

“Because I’ve been flashing you ever since I noticed you’d look,” Heather explained at my expression, grinning, then she stepped back, grasped the hem of her shirt, and lifted it to briefly give me a glimpse of her bra before pulling it back down. “And now I don’t have to be sneaky about it — this is going to be so much fun.”

I blinked, wondering how many little things about Heather that’d made me uncomfortable over the years had actually been her making me uncomfortable deliberately — probably most, I decided.

Chapter

“Back already?” Daryl asked. “Using your credit?”

“Selling again, but we may pick up some stuff, too.”

“Found more of those ‘joke’ coins of your uncle’s?”

I nodded, reaching for my pocket. “These, too.”

I dropped the handful of gold coins and the two gems onto the black velvet square Daryl set out on the counter, then turned to watch the girls as Daryl examined the loot.

Heather was conducting another, if less frantic, tour of the pawn shop for Sylwen while Grimelia focused on the stacks of DVDs Daryl had for sale. The elf had a sort of scarf Heather’d picked up in a short stop wrapped around her head to keep her ears hidden.

I turned back as Daryl said, “I hope you weren’t thinking this is a ruby.”

He had one of those jeweler eye-things in his right eye and was turning the red stone over while he looked at it.

“It’s not?”

Daryl shook his head. “Sorry to be the barrier of bad news, but, no. It’s not glass, but it’s not a ruby. It’s spinel.”

“What’s spinel?”

Daryl removed the glass from his eye and looked at me. “You sure do pick up a lot of interesting things for not knowing anything about them.”

I shrugged. “The gems were a gift.”

Daryl nodded as though that made sense. “Well, it’s not a cheap gift, but also not as valuable as rubies. Spinel’s another type of stone — found with ruby a lot. Hard to tell the difference unless you know what to look for with a loupe.” He gestured at me with the loupe. “Ruby has a hexagonal structure — this is octahedral. Spinel.”

“So it’s not worth much?”

“Not worth as much. This one’s maybe … four carats.” He went to a computer farther down the counter and tapped at it for a minute. “Maybe five hundred or a thousand a carat, depending on the quality. I’d have to spend some time with it to get the quality — maybe bring in my rock-guy.” He returned and slid the two stones back toward me with his fingertips. “You can have them checked out by someone else if you want.”

Oddly, I trusted Daryl. “I’ll take your word for it. You can hang onto them and tell me what your … rock-guy says?”

Daryl nodded. “Sure. Don’t feel bad if you thought it was a ruby — takes a good look with a loupe and knowing what to look for to tell the difference.” He chuckled. “Lots of crown jewels aren’t exactly what they thought they were back in the day.” He picked up the blue stone and examined it with the loupe. “Uh … not spinel, but not sapphire, either, for this one.”

“Oh, what is it? Glass?”

I was wondering if Sylwen’s family business was entirely legit — then again, she hadn’t told me they were ruby and sapphire.

“Not glass — iolite. Spinel’s found with sapphire too, so it could have been that, but see here —” He tilted the stone around toward me and it seemed to change color, going grey, then almost clear before returning to blue. “See that color shift?”

I nodded.

“Pleochroism — a sapphire wouldn’t do that.” He returned to examining the stone. “Sapphire this size? A couple, three grand, maybe more. Blue spinel? A few hundred.” He gave me a sympathetic look. “Iolite? A hundred bucks. Two tops. Sorry.”

“No problem. Like I said, they were a gift.”

A couple thousand for the red one, maybe more, and I thought Sylwen had given us more than enough to cover her staying with us for a few months. The manor house had nothing but space and it wasn’t like she ate that much. I wasn’t counting the rescue, because it felt a little icky to accept payment from her for that.

Daryl and I chatted about football while he weighed and examined the five gold coins.

“You sure these aren’t from ancient Bumfuckistan or something?” he asked. “They look legit used.” He looked up at me. “I just don’t want Harrison Ford busting down my back door or something. Dude’s old, might hurt himself — and I tossed the last batch in with my scrap to melt down, so I’d feel bad about that if they really were some historically relevant shit.”

“I swear.”

Daryl nodded and worked his calculator.

“All right — twelve hundred sixty-two eighty for the gold. I’ll give you the bottom end of the gems now, if you want, and make up any extra after my guy prices them. So, thirty-three sixty-two eighty, total. Good?”

I nodded. “Yeah, that’s good, thanks.”

“Same deal as before — half in credit?”

“Ah.” I turned from the counter. “Hey, Heather?”

“Yeah?”

“Thirty-three hundred — you want half in store credit?”

Heather looked at the pile of stuff the girls had brought to the counter, told Grimelia she could get four DVDs this trip, not twenty, and shook her head. “I think we have enough left from last time to cover this, and we need a lot of stuff for the house that Daryl doesn’t have.”

I nodded and turned back to Daryl. “Thirty-three hundred, cash?”

Daryl nodded back and went to his safe. I figured I’d make a habit of not bothering with anything less than a hundred — Daryl seemed like a cool guy and he wasn’t asking as many questions as someone else might. I wanted to keep him happy.

Sylwen came to my side.

“Did the money-lender offer enough for the gems?” she whispered.

I nodded. “Plenty — ah, you did know they weren’t ruby and sapphire, right?”

“I apologize — I thought you would recognize this. I swear by my ancestors, Alexander Mercer, I had no intent to deceive or —”

“Whoa, relax. I just didn’t want you to be surprised — I have no problem with it and Daryl offered plenty to cover your stay with us. No worries.”

Sylwen nodded, looking relieved. “I would have given more, but my family will wish an accounting of my expenses here.”

I shook my head. “Like I said — no worries.”

“Thank you, Alexander —”

Sylwen broke off, staring at the display case in front of her.

At first, I thought she was staring at the glass, because it was far clearer and even than anything I’d seen in Arctara, but I thought Heather must have explained the glass to her when they were looking around the store.

“How is this done?” Sylwen whispered.

“What?”

The elf bent over and pressed her nose to the top of the display case where Daryl kept his jewelry.

“The flat panes,” Sylwen whispered. “I’ve never seen the like — they shine like nothing I’ve ever seen.”

“They’re called facets,” I said, “which is about all I know about it.”

“Facets, yeah,” Daryl said, returning to the counter.

“How?” Sylwen asked, looking up — then she flushed and hung her head. “Forgive me — I should not ask for the secrets of your trade. It’s only —”

Daryl laughed. “Not my trade, not by a long shot — and can’t be a secret if it’s all over the internet.”

The big man rested his own elbows on the glass and pointed.

“Gems like this have a crystalline structure, so there are places where the structure's easier to split. One good whack in the right place and you have a facet and it cracks straight. So you look through this thing —” Daryl picked up his loupe, pulled a big, red ring from within the case, and handed both to Sylwen. “This is called a loupe — and the jeweler looks for the best place to split it.” He shrugged. “I think. My rock-guy knows a lot more about it.”

“Amazing,” Sylwen whispered, staring through the loupe at the ring.

“He’s got some videos on YouTube,” Daryl said. “FrankTheRockGuy.”

“I’m sorry,” Sylwen said, dragging her eye away from the loupe. “I do not have a tube — where might I find one?”

Daryl gave me a look.

“She’s, ah, from a pretty remote town in …”

I wracked my brain for someplace on the planet that might not have heard of YouTube.

“Bumfuckistan?” Daryl suggested.

I shrugged. “Sure.”

“Alexander,” Sylwen said, “I must learn this for my family. Can you assist in acquiring a tube?”

I sighed. “YouTube — it’s … it’s like a movie. I’ll show you when we get home.”

“And tools,” Sylwen whispered. “I must have the proper tools — may I purchase these here?” She reached for a pouch at her waist. “I have more gems if we must —”

“We’re okay — really,” I said, pulling her hands up. “We’ll watch the guy’s videos and figure out what you need. I doubt it’s that expensive.”

“Few hundred bucks,” Daryl said.

I nodded. “See? That’s not even what those two gems you gave me were worth.” I looked at Daryl. “Frank the rock guy?”

Daryl nodded, then frowned. “Might be a number — look for the one with the stupid magnifying thing on his face.”

I nodded.

“Gotcha.”

*

We loaded up the car and I slipped a fresh wad of hundreds into my pocket along with a new store-credit slip with our revised amount on it — less a bit from buying Sylwen one of Daryl’s loupes and a selection of jewelry to examine.

I wondered if I should get a bigger car — there were now four of us in the Prius, along with a trunk full of new stuff, and we had a lot more to buy today. The gas guy was coming in the afternoon, and I was glad I’d called them before trying to figure it out myself, because the gas company said it was turned off back at the main road and there was no way I’d be able to fix that myself. I probably would have spent hours futzing with the stuff in the house before giving up and calling them.

I’d also decided to go ahead and order a new stove and water heater, or at least decide on which ones I wanted so I’d know how much it would cost — when I described what we had to the gas company lady on the phone, she’d seemed a little hesitant about the age — so we needed to stop at an appliance store, in addition to groceries, more camping stuff, and some new clothes for Sylwen.

We stopped at a big department store for that, and I left Heather and Sylwen looking at clothes while Grimelia followed me — she had less than no interest in the clothes.

I wandered over to the electronics section and checked out the game consoles while Grimelia stared at the wall of televisions.

“Many,” the goblin whispered.

I chuckled and took one of the game controllers attached to the display. I wasn’t sure which one I wanted and despite the huge wad of cash in my pocket, I thought buying all of them might be excessive.

“Is moo-vie?” Grimelia asked, coming over to watch me play.

I shook my head. “A game.”

The goblin cocked her head to one side, watching intently. “You make the moo-vie do things?”

I nodded. “Sort of — there’s a story, but how I play changes things.”

“I … make moo-vie?” Grimelia asked.

I nodded. “Sure.”

I showed her the other controller and explained the buttons for a minute, then started the game. Grimelia sucked at first, but she quickly got better — especially for a goblin who’d never seen a video game before today.

I added the console, a couple games, and an extra controller to my cart.

Internet, I thought to myself. We need to get internet.