John has a new title he hopes to never hear again: John the Long. Chapter 4 brings a new day in his new life with challenges and... conquests.
John woke to the fresh scent of ocean wind and wildflowers. He blinked his eyes open as yesterday's events came back to him. He knew who, and where, he was. His belly was empty, but the magic was there, thrumming with possibilities and ready for him to use.
He threw back the sheet and rolled onto his knees and then up to his feet. Even the scratchy pallet on the floor barely bothered him today. He stood over the pot and emptied his bladder while stretching out the kinks in his muscles.
He smiled. Muscles. He had muscles again. He felt amazing, in fact. Well rested, full of energy, and ready to take on the world. Not an ache or pain in him! His stomach rumbled a little, but aside from that, he was feeling blessed.
A glance at the flesh dangling between his legs failed to darken his mood, but it did make him consider the possibility that he was cursed instead of blessed. But if this was being cursed, then he should have taken up demonology decades ago!
He opened the shutters and looked out onto the coastal city of Widow's Edge. He knew a little better now about the town and identified the great lifts that hung over the edge of the cliff to ferry cargo from the docks to the city. There was little else of interest in the town save for the great hall that housed the stairs and tunnels that led into the earth and down to the docks.
He pulled the shutters in and latched them before stooping to pick up his dagger beside his pallet. He tied that to the back of his upper arm before grabbing up his robe. He donned the fine black garment and stepped into his sandals, ready to see what the day might bring him as soon as he fetched his spear from where it rested against the wall.
When his fingers closed about the polished black shaft of the spear John smiled. It felt good to be armed and ready, even if he didn't know how to use it. How difficult could it be? His spear had two crisscrossing blades on the end that had been crafted by magic, not forge. All he had to do was jab it into somebody.
If Zynga, the vulgar and whimsical imp that was his familiar, was right, the spear could suck the life out of someone too and refuel his magic. That wouldn't be as fun as his preferred method of regenerating magic, of course.
John slipped out of his room and made his way down the hall to the stairs. He heard one of the serving maids tending to another room and he almost paused to look in and see if was Magda. He stopped himself, worried about what Zynga had told him. If Magda saw him she'd certainly hope for another tumble. John liked the thought of it, but the consequences of bedding the same woman too often were terrible. She would weaken and suffer.
That was his curse now, thanks to his Mistress, Beytrixxa. He could have any woman he wanted, but not with any sort of cadence or they would grow ill and die as his magic fed on their soul. Well, not any woman... That ship's captain— Red, Steff called her— had resisted his magic last night. Steff had not, thankfully. He hoped she'd rested well and could walk properly this morning.
"Morning, John," the barkeep greeted him with a grin. "Cassie wouldn't stop yapping about you last night. What lies are you telling my girl?"
"Cassie's your daughter?" John asked.
"She is, a fine young girl that deserves better than this place."
John shrugged. "This place isn't so bad. I've grown fond of it."
He chuckled. "Don't grow too fond, you're stay's up at the end of the week without more coin to hold you over."
John smiled and patted his coin pouch in his pocket. He still hadn't spent any money, but he didn't have much to spend either. "I will remember. Some water this morning with breakfast, I think."
"I recommend the ale," he warned. "The water here does a poor job taking your thirst away. They get it in the caves, gathered from the run off of the rocks but it still tastes salty to me."
John frowned. "You have no wells?"
"Have you looked at this town? We're a hundred feet or more above the sea! Sure enough there's dirt under us, but more rock than dirt. Solid rock, at that. There's no digging for water there and if there was they'd find the ocean before anything else."
John grimaced. "I hadn't thought of that. So it's barrels of water collected below or shipped in from elsewhere?"
"Aye, so it is," the barkeep said. "And there's not many people willing to haul water on a wagon. Nobody's going to pay enough to make it worth their while."
John grunted. "That's not something I'd have ever considered before. Interesting... very interesting."
The barkeep chuckled and shrugged. "Here, I'll let you choose," he said and fetched a cup and filled it with water from a barrel. He placed it in front of John and watched while the newly-created warlock picked it up and sniffed it. He wrinkled his nose and then risked a sip.
John set it down, trying not to show his distaste. "It is salty," he said. "More than salt too, but I'm not sure of the taste."
"It drips off the rocks, there's no telling what it picks up," the barkeep said. "You still want that, or an ale?"
"Ale it is!" John cheered.
The barkeep laughed and swept the cup away. He dumped it and filled it with ale and handed it over before heading to the kitchen to secure breakfast for the man.
John took pleasure in the simple fare as he broke his fast. It wasn't like before, when he'd had fancier meals made of...
John cocked his head as he searched his memory. What had he eaten before? It had been prepared by servants, surely. Servants or... did John have a wife? No, of course not! He'd remember that, surely. Even though he couldn't seem to remember anything else.
Ah ha! That was the difference. He wasn't sure about the other things. Servants, foods, even clothes. But he was certain he'd never married. Or if he had, he'd have made a terrible husband. Another curse of his memory was that he couldn't remember the lovers he'd taken, but he was certain he'd had many throughout his life. He'd been an important man, after all!
"Going to lick the plate clean too?"
John jerked his head up and saw the barkeep staring at him with a gleam in his eye. John chuckled and saw that he was still holding the plate as though he wanted to eat it too. He grinned and pushed it away. "Lost in my thoughts."
"I could tell. Take care with that, a man's thoughts can be a scary place. Not as bad as a woman's though!"
John laughed with him and stood up. He considered tossing the man a coin but couldn't make himself do it. His funds were meager and he still had a lot to figure out. Including what he should do today. His needs were met, but there were still so many questions unanswered. Both about who he'd been as well as who he was now. He'd been an old man, now he was young again. Or so everyone told him. His body looked young and he felt virile— he'd proven that a few times now! Yet he had yet to see himself. Was he the same as he'd been when he was a young man, or had Beytrixxa improved upon his looks as she had with his manhood?
John turned and headed for the door. He needed to find a looking glass. Widow's Edge had both open markets and a few shops. Surely he could find one somewhere. Although it might help if he knew where to start looking... perhaps Zynga could point him in the right direction?
"Where is she, anyhow?" John muttered as he stood in the morning sun and felt a fresh gust of ocean air ruffle his hair.
He grinned and reached up to run his fingers through his hair. Yes, he had hair. Lots of it. Thick and well kept, from the feel of it. He rubbed his face with his hand and then stared at his hand. His face was smooth, but he hadn't shaved in at least two days now.
"Magic."
John jumped and spun around. They she stood, breasts bulging out of the top of a shirt that had not been tailored to hold such things. She winked at him and said, "Your magic does that. You'll always be clean and well kept. One of Mistress's quirks she insists upon."
John bowed his head. "Cleanliness is next to Saintliness."
Zynga rolled her eyes.
"Have you been waiting out here for me?" he asked.
She shrugged. "I've been here and there. Remember, I've got the inside scoop on what's going on in your head, Master. At least until you figure out how to shut me out."
John cursed. "I forgot about that."
She pouted. "Aww, am I so scary you're afraid to let me in?"
He snorted. "Hardly. Although you are a demon."
She held her thumb and finger close together and said, "I'm just a itty bitty demon though."
He snorted again.
Zynga laughed. "What fun shall we have today, Master? That girl last night was delicious. Although I'm almost disappointed she didn't get to have her way with you. That would have been a sight to see!"
"A gentleman does not—"
Zynga howled with laughter and drew the looks from a few people passing by. She clapped her hands over her mouth and restrained herself to giggles and chuckles before wiping the tears from her eyes— tears that turned to steam that was sucked away by the wind— and said, "Master, you are hardly a gentleman. Maybe before, I don't know, but not now."
He sighed. "Still, I don't think talking about my conquests is appropriate."
She scoffed. "You ruined her and even kept your wits about you and didn't finish inside. I never doubt Mistress, but now I'm starting to understand what she must have seen in you."
"I haven't even seen myself yet," he admitted. "Where can I find a mirror?"
"This way," she said and motioned for him to follow her.
While they walked down the road John's mind drifted back to the evening before with Steff, the sailor with a wooden leg. "She wouldn't have actually... with her leg?"
Zynga cackled and nodded. "Oh, she would. She's got a reputation with her crew. None of them will go near her because they're afraid she'll fuck them with it."
"But... that's not right! What pleasure would it bring her?"
"There's one way to find out..."
