Natural Magic

Chapter 32 - Mending

As Pithy listened, frowning at first, her expression began to soften. Eventually she was nodding along to Auntie’s points.

The old kobold looked back at Amerigo. “Help him find himself again. Please, caretaker?”

They held each other’s gaze for several heartbeats before Amerigo nodded.

Auntie sighed and laid back straight again, saying with resignation, “I am ready for soup, child.” Amerigo left to find his friend.

Across the refuge, Amerigo found a line of kobolds. It wound several yards through the camp, terminating at an area where Chicken held judgement. Someone seemed to have built him a chair to more easily preside over matters. While he sat in it, he did not seem to relish the position. He looked like any other bored dignitary, with one elbow on an arm of the chair and his chin in his hand.

Amerigo traced the line to its other end and trudged over to join it.

The line moved very slowly. So much so that it was inevitable that Amerigo would become interested in the kobold standing in front of him. She seemed to be carrying two parts to an older clay jug.

Tapping her on the shoulder, he got her attention. She acknowledged him like anyone standing in a polite line would, and that was as though he had apparated out of thin air.

He gestured towards the jug inquisitively.

“It broke on the cave floor,” she said sadly. “Auntie made it for me when I was small. I’m hoping Chicken can set it right.”

Amerigo stared intently at the broken object. How could Chicken mend this? He had never once struck Amerigo as a potter, or having any interest in pottery.

After musing for a few minutes, Amerigo stepped out of the line. Stalking through the camp, he found what he was looking for and made his way back.

He presented the wet clay to the kobold with the broken pottery and gestured for her to hand the pot over.

She did so reluctantly.

Amerigo wet the clay of the pot before applying liberal amounts of the extra clay to the edges of the shards. With his fleshy fingers uncommon to the kobolds, he smoothed the sealant over, inside the pot and out.

It didn’t look wonderful, but it was smooth and whole again. He cast around for a fire nearby. Finding one a few steps away, he stole the kobold’s gaze and held the pot over the fire. He gestured for her to follow him.

She stepped out of line and approached the gnome. After some trial and error, he managed to convey his intentions. She was to rotate the pot over the fire until the clay was firm.

He left her to her task and joined the line again. His spot had been taken, so he started over. It may have been his hopeful attitude, but it seemed despite the new additions, to have shortened overall.

Before long, his attention fell on the kobold in front of him again. He was holding a snapped rope and what looked like a broken trap.

****

As Chicken listened to an issue pertaining to a breach in cubbyhole etiquette, he realized there had been a remarkable decline in petty issues. There were more legal matters, more highly complicated than simple matters of requisitioning repairs and investing time into finding creative alternatives. He let himself believe he had somehow found the source of those petty issues and stifled it.

Behind the kobold issuing boring precedent in the matters of the storage of favored items, something caught his eye.

It was Amerigo. He was standing patiently, waiting like a humble subject and not Chicken’s close friend and confidant.

Chicken waved the boring kobold away, his problem not yet fully stated, saying, “Amerigo! You don’t need to wait in line to see me!”

Amerigo looked apologetically at the kobold before him, stepping sheepishly around the snubbed party to embrace Chicken who was getting up from his chair.

“You must have been waiting forever in that line,” Chicken said.

Amerigo simply shrugged.

“I’m glad you’re here. This work is torture.” Chicken stretched, both for emphasis and to limber up his joints from sitting for so long.

Amerigo began to gesture in complex fashion.

“I definitely need saved. Pull me away from this. Please.” He started walking away, towards the camp, but Amerigo grabbed his shoulder and went through the gestures again.

“What? I don’t understand.”

Amerigo went through the gestures a third time, more slowly.

“Oh no,” Chicken moaned. His face drooped. “You want something from me too.”

Amerigo rolled his eyes. Chicken rubbed his with the palms of his hands.

“I’ve only just brought all these kobolds here. I’ve been saving the world all day. And now you need something from me?”

Amerigo stepped away from camp, gesturing for Chicken to follow.

“No. I can’t. I need rest and I need… I need to do nothing for a while. I need to slumber.”

Amerigo grabbed his friend’s hand.

Don’t touch me!

The thought flashed through Chicken’s mind like lightning. He pulled his hand back, startled and suddenly angry.

“I said I won’t!” he snapped, “I’m needed here! You don’t understand how much everyone’s problems are dragging on me.”

Amerigo looked hurt, but Chicken pressed further.

I deserve…

“I deserve some peace and quiet. But since coming here, it’s been work work work..” His voice gradually descended into a hiss.

It’s mine….

“This village is mine. It’s here because of me, and it’s my responsibility. You want to pull me away from it!”

Stay away…

“But keep off me. I don’t need your selfish demands. Help us here. Find something useful to do for once.”

His voice at moments pleading, at moments furious, at first confused Amerigo, then cut him, then spurred his anger and indignity.

Chicken saw the effects of his words plainly on his friend’s face, but knew that it was too late now.

“I need a break. I need to go flying or something. Don’t follow me if you’re just going to ask me for stuff.” Chicken pushed past Amerigo and strode in the direction of the cave exit.

Amerigo stood at the edge of the firelight and watched his friend stomp off into the dark.