Told by Flinch

Part 9 of the Homegrown Help series

Master‘s given me a proper job this time, not fetchin’, not diggin’ — writin’. Ten letters, one for each of his associates, askin’ ’em to take fish off his hands and go run Silas’s rhymes for their own hundred tickets apiece. After the business with the gold bags, I weren’t about to make a mess of this one too. Wrote it out careful, the same words to each, and sent ’em off before I could talk meself out of it.

Here’s the letter, near enough word for word:

To whoever’s readin’ this — Master’s got fish spare, more’n he knows what to do with, and there’s a treasure map wants runnin’ with ’em. Four rhymes, one swim, hundred tickets at the end of it, no combat, no danger ‘cept gettin’ your boots wet. Come by for the fish and I’ll walk you through the rest, best I know how. — Flinch, on Master’s behalf.

The answers come back a proper mixed bag, same as the associates themselves.

Blondage wrote back within the hour, kind as anythin’ — said she’d be glad to help, and asked after Master’s health besides, which weren’t even part of the letter. Made me feel a bit better about the whole business, that one did.

Veilstrike sent three words back. “Fish. Really, Grumble.” I don’t rightly know if that were a yes or not, but a courier turned up the next mornin’ anyway to collect his share, so I’m callin’ it a yes.

Forkandle replied with nothin’ but a drawing of a blizzard cloud and a fish, which I took to mean he remembered the last favour and were happy enough to owe another one back.

Notoday wrote exactly what the name promises. “Not today.” Nothin’ further. Fair enough, I s’pose — can’t make a body swim who don’t fancy swimmin’.

Legionelle sent back a very long letter about somethin’ called “efficient routing” and “optimal rhyme-clue pathing,” with diagrams. I didn’t understand half of it, but she said yes somewhere in the middle of it all, so I’m countin’ it.

Noggin just sent one word — “OK” — and turned up an hour later already halfway through the second clue, which is more than I managed to explain to anyone else in that time.

Spaniel wrote back somethin’ about how she hoped there’d be treats involved. I wrote back sayin’ there’d be tickets, not treats, and never heard from her again after that, so I’m assumin’ the tickets weren’t good enough on their own.

Fallen sent one line: “Tell UG he still owes me from the last thing.” Didn’t say what the last thing were. Didn’t ask.

The two Master warned me about were the two I watched closest.

Heamogoblin wrote back too quick for my likin’, all charm, askin’ whether the fish came with “no strings attached” in a way that made me feel like there were about to be several strings. I sent the fish anyway, on Master’s word, but I’ve been countin’ the tickets that come back off him twice each, just to be sure.

Pinch didn’t write back at all. Just turned up, took the fish straight out of the bag without so much as a hello, and were gone again before I’d finished sayin’ good mornin’. No idea if he’s even done the hunt yet, or if he’s sold the fish on somewhere for a quicker profit. Wouldn’t put it past him, goin’ off what little I’ve heard tell of goblin rogues.

Ten letters sent, most of ’em answered kindly enough, two of ’em leavin’ me no better informed than before I wrote ’em. Countin’ the tickets as they come in, same as everythin’ else this week. Watchin’ Heamogoblin and Pinch a bit closer than the rest, same as I were told to.

---

More in the Homegrown Help series

← Previous: VIII. Night Watch