“Yeah,” I agree, pretty dejected. “That could be the problem.” I glance down at the giant pile of charcoal. Was all this work for nothing? Building the factory and this whole project?
Brank’ox takes a herbal pill out of his box. “Now see this.”
I glance at the black pill. “Yeah?”
“This is also a mix of several things. Can you see each type of leaf in this?”
I squint at the pill. “Kind of. Not really.”
“I ground them up, then used water to mix them. After drying, the pills stay in one piece and look like a single thing. Not a mix of many things.”
I sigh. “See, water is not something I’d want to use for this. It can be weird. It might change the substances.”
“Then try a thin fat. Your not-tequila. Sap. Anything that is fluid.”
I grab his hand and squeeze it. “You might have a point.”
“Of course. Tell me when you’re ready to try again. I like experiments.”
He kisses the top of my head and then climbs back up to the upper level.
I ponder the powders. He actually does have a really good point. The ingredients should be as close together as possible, of course. And water is the obvious choice as a mixing agent, despite its possible effects.
Brank’ox is a chemist, too, in his way. This is worth a shot.
I tidy up the failed experiments and get to work.
25
- Brank’ox -
The door is hard to open, heavy and unwieldy. That’s by design – I keep adding wood and even little pieces of steel to it, sharp spikes that stick out from the top.
It hangs on solid hinges, and the lock is a simple iron mechanism that can only be worked from the outside if you know how. It doesn’t make me feel that Dolly is safe behind it, but it will take any intruder both time and effort to get it open.
I close it firmly behind me, engage the lock, and make my way down the hill.
The dragon is lurking somewhere here, like he is every time I come out of the Factory.
“The fake slayer enjoys his nights,” the slick voice comes from behind me as I reach the bottom of the hill.
I resist the urge to turn around, but my hand seeks the hilt of my sword.
“He does,” I agree and keep walking. After many days of this, I know from experience that if I ignore him, Isualic the Old will simply start throwing things at me. He’s too fast to attack and kill, and anyway it would be hard to do – he hasn’t actually attacked me yet. He’s more of an annoyance, and I think he’s alone.
“The jungle echoes with the sounds of loud female,” Isualic goes on, following me. “Every night. Will you never give her a break?”
I walk on, still seeking the creek I can hear at night. “Can you be sure that it’s not she who will never let me rest?”
“No female I ever knew was that insatiable.”
“Perhaps you are just not a very good lover.”
I have the satisfaction of hearing the dragon hiss. “What do you know of making love, Brank’ox the Fake? You had never seen a woman before her. You don’t have the experience. She’s simply humoring you.”
I just chuckle. I’m confident in this, at least. Neither Dolly or I can fake the passion we share. That look in her eyes is the realest thing I’ve ever seen.
“I notice you keep adding to that door you made,” the dragon tries again. “Are you not sure you can keep her safe?”
“The jungle is dangerous,” I state. “It’s better to keep it out of the village.”
Isualic snorts. “Oh, just admit it. The door isn’t for her. It’s for you. It’s you who fear the jungle. For you know there are dragons here, and you are not a slayer.”
“Any man respects the jungle.” The stream can’t be far away now. It might in fact be an underground creek that only runs in the open for short distances. Those are the best ones, carrying the freshest water.
“Ah, but with you it’s more than respect. It’s simply fear—”
I whirl around and point at him with one finger, then bring the finger to my mouth, crossing both lips in a ‘be quiet’ gesture.
And the dragon does shut up for a couple of heartbeats, letting me localize the quiet clucking I thought I heard.
“What is it?” he asks.
I look over his shoulder. “Did you bring any of your dragon friends?”