Twisted Tales

Not Worth a Hill of Beans

         "What is it you need to do in Kingsbury that's so important?" Jack asked, leaning forward on the stool so that his elbows rested on his knees, and looking hard at me.

         "It's... nothing," I lied pathetically. I could never come up with good lies on the spot, and even if I could, I have the guiltiest damn face when lying that you'll ever see.

         "Are you on a quest?" he pressed, and something like excitement flashed in his eyes.

         I paused, and took a moment to look back at him as intently as he was looking at me. I could see the tension in his shoulders, the intense interest in his expression.

         I was on a quest, I guess. An unofficial one, maybe, but a quest nonetheless. And quests weren't exactly unheard of in this world, were they? They were practically a dime a dozen, falling into the laps of worthy tailor's sons and ill-treated stepchildren.

         And Jack... who was Jack?

         Jack, like Hans, was an incredibly common name, used and reused in fairy tales. There was one particularly famous Jack I could think of off the top of my head.

         "Do you live here at the inn with your aunt and uncle?" I asked Jack abruptly, changing the subject.

         He looked surprised by my question, but answered it. "Oh... uh, no, I don't. I live with my mother on a farm just outside of town."

         "Just your mom?"

         Jack looked a little uncomfortable, and finally breaks his unwavering eye contact. "Yes. Just my mother. My father died some years ago."

         "And you're... forgive me for asking, you're very poor?"

         Jack flushed, turning pink from the tip of his nose to his ears. "My aunt and uncle do all right with the tavern, even though this village doesn't see many visitors-"

         "But you and your mom?"

         "Yes, we're poor," he said, and it came out bitterly. "My mother's too old to work the farm, and I can't maintain it by myself. My aunt and uncle have to spend all of their time keeping up the inn, and they have no children of their own to help them. It's just my mother and I, and we're losing everything. The crops won't grow, and we've had to sell every single one of our cows."

         He was obviously angry, but I got the sense that it wasn't directed towards me, even though I'd forced the information out of him. His hand went towards his pant pocket, almost unconsciously.

         "I just sold our last cow today," he said, and his tone was suddenly flat. "She was too old to give milk. I didn't think I could get even a single copper for her."

         "But you did get something, didn't you?" I asked, and this time it was my turn to lean in and fix Jack with an expectant stare. "You met someone, and he bought the cow off of you?"

         Jack's flush deepened, and he looked away from me, off into the distance, beyond the town proper, presumably in the direction his mother's farm lay. "I was supposed to head home right after going to market. But I couldn't. I couldn't face my mother. I stopped here instead, because I don't want to admit... I don't know why I did it, it was so stupid. But he was talking to me, and it all seemed to make sense at the time..."

         "What did you sell the cow for, Jack?" I pressed.

         His hand clenched into a fist on his thigh. "Beans," he spat. "Magic beans. Which are probably just ordinary beans, just three, not even enough to feed my poor old mother. I'm so stupid--"