Heretical Fishing

Book 2: Chapter 45: When Life Gives You Lemons

Late morning gave way to midday as Maria and I toiled in the kitchen. We’d left Claws and Leroy behind in the clearing to do... I dunno. Gardening stuff? Frankly, I was too excited to care what they were up to.

“You’re sure this is gonna taste good, Fischer?” Maria asked, frowning down at my concoction.

“When have I ever failed you?” I shot her a wink.

“Well, there was that one time you took me camping during a tempest, and we got soaked, and I could have caught pneumonia, and I could have di—“

“That was one time! Everyone gets one for free.”

“Hmmm.” She rubbed her chin in thought. “I suppose that’s true...”

“Besides,” I added. “The proof is in the pudding.”

She narrowed her eyes and looked around, scanning my kitchen.

“What pudding?”

I added another spoonful of sugar and stirred. When the granules had mostly dissolved, I tasted it.

The sugar had cut the lemon’s bitterness down, and the flavor, though not chilled, was thirst-quenching.

“Here,” I said, holding up a spoon.

Maria opened her mouth, and I poured the lemonade in.

Her eyebrows lowered for a moment, no doubt expecting a sour explosion, but then her eyes flew wide.

“Good gods...” she said after swallowing. “That is amazing.”

I grinned.

“If you think that’s good, wait until I cook up Asano’s recipe—it takes a little more time, though.”

“Whose recipe?”

I smiled wistfully.

“A fictional character from my home world. I tried making his lemonade once before coming here, and let me tell you, it’s life changing.”

“A fictional character’s... recipe?” She scowled at me. “I can’t tell if you’re messing with me or not.”

“I know—it’s fun, right?”

Her scowl turned deadpan.

“No, Fischer. No, it’s not.”

“Ah well, some people can’t enjoy the good things in life. C’mon—let’s take this lemonade to our churchy companions. They might need the pick-me-up after last night.”

***

After knocking on Barry’s door, we waited in silence.

“Maybe they’re not home…” Maria suggested. “Should we go get Leroy to see if they’re in the church?”

“I don’t know... I’m a little worried, to be honest. They were in quite a state last night, and they should be up by now, even if they’re a little hungover...”

“Won’t it risk, I don’t know, discovering something you don’t want to if we go down there?”

I rubbed my chin, torn between my desire for secrecy and the need to check on my pals.

“Steven let something slip last night—he mentioned that all of their showers were beside the bedrooms at the end of the hall. If we just follow the hallways and don’t look in any room until we get to the end, we should be fine.”

Maria chewed her lip, then nodded.

“All right. I’m in.”

***

As we stepped into what used to be Barry’s shed, Maria’s eyes went wide.

“Wow... I assumed it would be incredible, but this...?”

“Right?” I ran one hand over the smoothe stone, as did Maria.

We made our way down the steps. Each time we approached a sconce in the wall, it lit with magical flame.

“That’s not a good sign,” I said.

“Why?” Maria asked, cocking her head.

“Because they light up when someone comes near. It means no one has been by recently.”

“Hmm. Let’s hurry, then.”

As we passed each room, Maria peered inside. I’d already relayed what I’d seen in each, but seeing was different from knowing.

“Unbelievable...” she said as she poked her head into the underground spa. “That looks simply divine.”

“We should come visit sometime—I’m sure they wouldn’t mind.”

“I’d never forgive myself if I said no to that offer.”

When we strode past the indoor forest, her jaw dropped open.

“I’m not sure if this or the blue tree is more impressive...”

“Including the lemons? The blue tree. Without, though... there’s something breathtaking about such a large tree, especially growing underground.”

“Yeah, no kidding…”

I walked further, and she lingered a moment, staring at the thick trunk before jogging to catch up.

“This is as far as I came last time,” I said. “We’ll have to keep our eyes forward from here on—no peeking in doors, open or not.”

“I can do that.” She hooked her arm in mine, squeezing me tight. “I do wonder what’s down here sometimes, though...”

“I know, right?” I winced. “It’s incredibly annoying. I don’t want to be a part of it, but my brain can’t help but imagine what secrets they’re hiding.”

Before the next sconce lit, an open door ahead of us shone magical light out into the hallway. Maria shielded the left side of her eyes with one hand, then did the same for me.

“Thank you,” I said, smiling. “Not sure I could have resisted the temptation...”

The magical flame in the wall flickered to life, and we continued on, not gazing into the open room despite the desire to.

“Hey!” a nasally voice called. Not recognizing it, I froze.

“Where in Poseidon’s chafed thighs is my breakfast?”

Maria’s hand fell away. Dumbfounded, we both turned to look at the speaker.

***

Barry woke to the sensation of someone trying to crack his head open like it was a particularly ripe coconut.

“Ugghhh,” he moaned, cradling his pounding head.

“Ngggh,” Helen agreed from beside him.

“My head. What happened last—Paul!” she yelled, shooting upright.

“He stayed at Sue’s,” Barry replied, laying a hand on her knee.

With her maternal instincts no longer overriding the hangover, she slumped back down to the bed.

“Water...”

She tried to get up, but Barry held her shoulder, halting her movement.

“I’ll get it, love. Wait there.”

With no small amount of effort, he rolled out of bed and walked toward the kitchen. As he returned with a glass of water in each hand, a muffled conversation caught his attention. It was coming from Trent’s open door, and Barry wondered if the sugarcane juice was finally taking effect. Ellis had theorized that it was the collar halting the transformation, but Barry didn’t want to risk removing the collar. He’d had countless glasses of what Fischer would call pew-pew juice, yet still hadn’t awakened.

Barry rolled his eyes—Fischer may be a god waiting to happen, but he came up with the worst names.

As Barry’s limping mind caught up to what his eyes could see, he realized the hallway from the entrance up to Trent’s room was lit. A spike of panic tore up Barry’s spine and wedged itself firmly within his pounding skull. Had someone wandered in and found the prince?

He set the glasses down and jogged to the open door, each sconce he passed lighting up. His head pounded with every footfall, but he forced himself to continue. He had to get there, had to make sure no one was freeing the prince, had to...

He stopped in the opening, as did his thoughts.

“Barry?” Fischer asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Er—yes, Fischer?”

“Are you aware there’s a bloke locked up in your basement?”

Barry swallowed and raised a finger to object, but his brain failed him. He drooped.

“It’s a long story...”

***

“A long story?” The self-described prince demanded from behind me. “No it’s not! You kidnapped me, your future king, and wrapped a cultivator’s collar around my neck! I’ve already told this noble man about your crimes!”

Barry squinted at me, at Trent, then leaned against the doorframe.

“I’m too hungover for this...”

“Lemonade?” I asked, holding up a cup.

“... what?” Barry asked, peering through bleary eyes.

“Could you hold this, Maria?”

She took the cup, her eyebrow furrowed as she glanced back at the apparent prince. I filled the cup to the brim with lemonade, and Maria offered it to Barry.

“Thank... you?”

He lifted it to his mouth, smelled it, then had a sip. His eyebrow quirked a little and he took another drink, deeper this time.

“Hey... that looks good,” the odd prince said, leaning his face up against the bars. “Give me some.”

I raised an eyebrow at Barry, who was now sculling his glass. He let out a deep sigh after finishing.

“I suppose you’ve seen him now.” Barry shrugged. “We’ve been feeding him sugarcane juice to no effect.”

Maria held up another cup, still watching the prince with an unreadable gaze. I filled it up, and she passed it to him.

He sniffed it, drank, then his eyebrows knitted.

“Lemon... how do you have lemon?”

I cocked my head at him.

“You came to Tropica with collared cultivators, right?”

“That’s right,” the toe-like prince replied, having another sip. “This is actually really good.”

“Focus, mate. You came to Tropica, had your ass absolutely handed to you by my animal pals, got imprisoned by my mate here.” I pointed over my shoulder at Barry. “And you’re surprised that we have lemons?”

Trent sniffed.

“So? You’re not supposed to have lemons, especially not enough to make a jug that big.”

Barry, whose disposition was already improving after drinking a little lemonade, shook his head.

“Trent is a little intellectually... different.”

“That’s right!” Trent said. “My mother, the queen, always said I was unique. Best you remember that, peasants—I’ll be using those smarts to bust out of this prison the first chance I get.”

***

Penelope Francine Gormona, the queen of Gormona, sat down on a high-backed seat in the throne room.

“Where is that idiot son of ours?”

Her husband, Augustus Reginald Gormona, started. He glanced at her from his position on the throne.

“What was that, dear?”

“Our son. Where on Kallis is he?”

The king shook his head.

“Alive—we know that much.”

The queen opened the locket slung around her neck, and sure enough, the small stone inside glowed a dull red. They had one such artifact for each of their children, and she’d worn Trent’s day in and day out since his departure. Despite her awareness of his particular intellectual disability, he was still her son, and she would burn the kingdom to the ground to save him.

“Are you sure we can’t send out a party to search for him...?”

Her husband’s eyes grew hard.

“We’ve discussed this, wife. We don’t have the resources with our kingdom under attack.”

She wanted to call him a fool, wanted to challenge his ability to leave their son in danger, but reigned the words in before they could fly free. It wouldn’t help the situation.

“Are you sure we are under attack...?”

His jaw clenched, and though he probably had some of his own choice words, he simply nodded.

“It cannot be coincidence. Five high-ranking officials disappearing without a trace, the theft of resources, and the awakening of five spirit beasts... it is a clear message. Someone wishes to make a fool of us.”

A glint came to his eye, and he sat upright.

“They don’t know that we have the artifacts we do. In this time of peace, the other kingdoms have forgotten the power that Gormona wields. We know about the spirit beasts, and we’ll snuff them out before they can find the walls of our kingdom. They think they can challenge Gormona and walk away peacefully...”

The king let out a deep chuckle.

“We will learn who launched the attack after we find the spirit beasts, and then they’ll rue the day they tried to slight Augustus Reginald Gormona.”

At his words, she turned away. Whose lineage had led to Trent’s disability had long been a source of contention within their marriage, and as she went over her husband’s words, she was resolute, as ever, that it was from his side.

***

I watched Trent down the rest of his lemonade. The so-called prince let out a belch, followed by a content sigh. As he stood there, mouth open and facing the roof, I noted that he had a head like a kicked-in watermelon. I’d never admit as much—that would be downright rude, after all—but in the confines of my own thoughts, I couldn’t help but acknowledge how unfortunate-faced the man was.

I turned to Barry, who was sipping at another glass.

“Can we talk for a second, mate?”

He nodded, his eyes holding a tension that had nothing to do with his headache.

“Hey! Don’t forget my breakfast!” Trent called, but we all ignored him.

When we got far enough away, Maria spoke up first.

“Slavery, Barry?” she asked, her face riddled with disapproval.

“It’s complicated,” he replied. “I know it looks bad, but I have plans.”

I shook my head.

“You’re not gonna like what I have to say, mate.”