Dalshire: returning to Rufus

 “For someone who can’t see, you came out of your house pretty sharpish,” said Melrose.  Rufus, wearing something like an armoured bath-robe, was standing just outside his front door, waiting for Melrose.

“I’m blind, not stupid,” said Rufus waspishly.  “I’ve been keeping an eye on you.  In a manner of speaking.”

“So what was that desert place?” asked Melrose, a hint of warning creeping into his voice.

“Come inside, come inside,” said Rufus.  “Who knows who might be listening out here?”

Melrose started to look around himself with exaggerated care, and Rufus flailed a hand in his general direction, stepping forwards with tiny, uncertain steps until he caught hold of him.

“Inside,” he hissed.  “Now!”

“So what was the desert then?”

“A trap,” said Rufus.  “As I think you surmised.  It wasn’t real, it was just what the defences in the godhouse made you think until you broke them.  You did break them, right?”  He sounded slightly worried.

“Godhouse?” said Melrose, showing an aptitude for finding exactly the word that Rufus wished he’d ignore.

“Workhouse.  Workshop!”

Melrose looked around the room; nothing had changed since he was last in there except that the fire had gone out and the fireplace needed sweeping and new logs setting down.  He sat down in the chair by the fire and put his feet up on the footstool.

“There’s a lot you’re not telling me, isn’t there, Rufus?  But we’re friends, we go back a long way—“ Rufus harrumphed unhappily — “and it’s probably time you started telling me a little bit more about what I’ve just… liberated from this godhouse across the way.  Especially since I was told that people make their own gods here in Dalshire.”

“A device,” said Rufus sounding sulky.  “For sharpening your sword.  Like you asked for.”

“And what else does it do?”

“How should I know?  I just know that it can sharpen that demon-inhabited lump of steel that you like swinging around!  I can’t even find out what the command word to activate is.”

Melrose stretched his legs, pushing the footstool slightly forwards.  It scraped across the floor.

“Don’t move things!”

“Rufus,” said Melrose.  He was comfortable in the chair even though his cuirass was digging into his hips.  “Rufus, Rufus.  I don’t have to give you this Device, you know?  I can take the book, and the Device and go talk to other people.  It seems to me that you wouldn’t want that.”

“The books are protected,” said Rufus.  He waved a hand in the direction of the bookshelves.  “Did you think I didn’t listen to you and your impotent little threats last time?”

Melrose ignored him.  “The sword is pretty good at dealing with magic,” he said.  “I’m sure I’ll figure something out after I’m done wiping your blood off it.”

“Hah!  Like I haven’t got my own protections!” said Rufus, but there was a note of worry creeping into his voice now.  “These threats are pointless, Melrose.  Give me the damn Device and we can get to work on getting your sword sharpened.  I think I have a lead on someone who might be able to help.”

“No,” said Melrose.  The footstool slipped a little further forward and his feet thudded on the floor.  “I will give you, as a token of trust, this ring that I took from a lizardkin in the godhouse—“ he stressed the word “— and I will keep the Device until we have the command word.  I’m sure you can see how a little insurance on both our sides is a good idea.”

“Ring?” Rufus appeared momentarily distracted, but then he frowned.  “No, you can’t take the Device out of Dalshire.  That would be cata— that would be… uh, theft.”

“This ring,” said Melrose, pulling it off his finger and throwing it at Rufus’s head.  He was amused, and only slightly surprised to see it ping off his forehead and land on the floor with a rattle.  He had been sure that Rufus was lying about being blind.  Rufus knelt and started patting the floor near to where the ring had landed, and found it after about thirty seconds.

“While you’re looking at that,” said Melrose, then sniggered.  “I mean, while you’re investigating that, you can also think up a better excuse.  I’m pretty sure that taking the Device from the godhouse counts as theft, so taking it out of Dalshire is no worse.”

“Stop saying godhouse like that,” said Rufus, turning the ring between his fingers.  “It’s not that important, it’s just a name.”

“Sure,” said Melrose.  He sat up, wincing as the cuirass dug deeper into his hips and dragged the footstool back into place and put his feet back up on it.  “I’m going to keep on sitting here until you’ve got some real answers for me.”