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The Wild Man

The Wild Man of Summersend wears breeches with hair belt; he eats grubs and honey. He tried eating locusts and honey but apparently you don’t get locusts in the woods. He spends his time vomiting grubs and accosting travelers. “Guilt!” he’ll shout, and hurl a mudball down the path.

“Hello, God-touched,” says the Knight respectfully, raising his visor to wipe away mud.

The Wild Man drops his next mudball and stares. “Whose face are you wearing?” he whispers.

“Nought but my own.”

“Whose face!” shouts the Wild Man, then sees the Knight’s burnished chest and remembers: ah, yes, the mirror’s.

Tyler

“Wasabi,” says Daniel.

“On a peppermint,” says Alex.

“With ketchup,” says Daniel.

“And a thing from the freezer,” says Alex, “that I don’t know what it is.”

Toe squints at it. “I’ve eaten worse.”

“Wait wait,” says Daniel, “the piece de gras–” and lets fall one drop from the old man’s vial.

Toe nods, satisfied. “Forty bucks.”

Daniel and Alex whoop. Tyler leans over, hesitant as a man prodding a burning cat. “Look, whatever that stuff is, it’s not kung fu,” he mutters. “It could be dangerous. Don’t you think we–”

“Shh,” says Alex, and throws another five on the pile.

Calidone

“It’s a ripoff, to begin with,” says Calidone. “They get seven people out there so it doesn’t sound like twenty-one shots, it sounds like three very loud ones. Second, they’re not firing at anyone, so it’s a pretty empty form of revenge. Finally, they use the M1 Garand, right? First infantry-standard rifle in the world. Beautiful weapon, the M1. It’ll put a ball round two feet into soft tissue and you know what they load it with? For your last salute?”

Ertanax doesn’t answer. Calidone knocks pipe ash into the hole in Ertanax’s head.

“Blanks,” he says sadly. “Blanks.”

Mina

“She escaped through an air vent,” says Inspector Dracula as they exit the elevator.

“Impossible,” says Mina flatly. “She’s too ill to move without a wheelchair and anyway, the cover screws on from the outside.”

“But hospital windows do not open.” Dracula politely allows a gurney to pass. “Security footage proves her door guard did not leave his post. She was not under the bed. If you will excuse me?”

He steps into Lucy’s former room and shuts the door in her face. Mina hesitates, then opens it again.

Dracula is recondensing. “Yes,” he says, “the vent is the only way.”

Sandal

The longhorn sharks mill around the buoy like people at a continental breakfast buffet who, having spotted the one remaining cheese danish, are now trying to figure out how to dive for it politely.

“I don’t understand,” whispers Sandal, “the evolutionary advantage here.”

“Well, ramming–” Bud starts, before a fifteen-footer illustrates his point. The buoy swings wildly; he plunges off.

“Bud!” screams Sandal.

“It’s okay,” sputters Bud, treading gently back toward the buoy. “It’s okay, I don’t smell like blood or anything, right? Nice shark? Nice sharky,” and then he pets one and tears all the skin off his palm.

Toe

“Because you are chosen ones,” whispers the old man. “Because the sorcerer is waking in the East and he will be searching for it. Because you four must save us all.”

“Is this an RPG?” asks Toe. “I hate RPGs.”

Alex snorts. “You cried every time you killed Tifa.”

“Oh, are we going to bring up middle school?” Toe snaps. “Because we all did some things in middle school.”

“What were you saying?” Alex asks the old man quickly.

“Mix tapes,” says Toe. “With Disney showtunes.

“You didn’t,” gasps Tyler.

“Do you want kung fu or not?” yells the old man.

Brunhilde

Brunhilde’s cock is as big as the sun. She fucks the sun, and the sun comes rising into the eyes of a billion soulslaves white eyes minds nerves cells chains atoms space. Brunhilde sees the stars and the leptons and owns all of it. Leases it. They are begging her indulgence to spin.

Comedown: she shakes all over and plucks feebly at electrodes. “What,” she tries. “Whafuck. Was that.”

“You’ve heard of deus ex machina?” asks Haroun, twisting dials on the black box.

“Yeah.”

“This is what happens,” he says, “when you don’t let it out,” and turns the crank again.

Maynard

Servos whine and the cabinet doors whoosh open. Maynard waggles the big remote self-consciously; Luna laughs and claps.

“My friends wanted to volunteer at the soup kitchen, but no, I needed my teevee to live in a turbolift,” he says.

“They still have soup kitchens?” asks Luna.

“Only joking,” he says, “I have no friends.”

“Then you’d better have lots more whooshy doors,” she says. “This is best-friend-brunch-story gold.”

“I can make whooshing sound effects while I open the wine.”

“We’re having wine?”

“You’re going to need it,” he says, “before I let you see the bathroom.”

South

“Soundstage,” South murmurs, only a little thickly, peering at the bottle.

“Who?” asks Sejal.

“Soundstage,” he repeats. “I like saying that, I like the meaning. I used to think it meant a set that was wired for sound, that was soundproofed? Now my guess is it’s like a solid place, a place with structure, not a facade. Soundly constructed. Sound footing.” He thumps the ceiling of the bus and doesn’t even miss. “A place where you can trust your feet. You need that sometimes. Am I right?”

“No, it’s the first one,” Sejal says, and almost falls off with the giggles.

The Page

She knows everyone in the world, and these are their names:

  • The Magician
  • The Popess
  • Strength and her friend Temperance
  • Star
  • Death
  • The Knight
  • The King
  • The Queen of Swords

And herself, of course, the Page. So when she meets the man in the worn blue coat she doesn’t know what to call him.

“I’m the Emperor, my child,” he says. “Emperor Norton the First. Not Emperor here, of course, just a state visit, a diplomatic consort mission envoy. Where am I?”

“The world,” says the Page uneasily.

“Ah,” he says, “but what do you call it?”

She calls it Summersend.