It was hard, but Mr. Chubs forced his eyes to open. It took a surprising amount of coaxing for them to cooperate. He grimaced. He was too old to be getting blind drunk, he scolded himself. The sun that was falling right on his face was not helping matters so he heaved himself on his back, groaning loudly. He wondered how many rocks had found themselves under his temporary bed. Had he not swept the floor before settling in?
The stale smell of the room and the lack of breeze triggered a memory and he sat up abruptly. It took only a moment for the truth to hit him. It was enough.
He was in an inn. He had had too much to drink and told Tully his real name. And he was going to be very, very, very sick. Once his head stopped spinning, Mr. Chubs lurched towards the window so he could vomit. Nothing came up. His body had digested everything he had put into it in an ill attempt to celebrate one year of Tully’s apprenticeship. He was going to smack Tully upside the head when he saw him next. What the smack would be for he would decide once his errant apprentice made an appearance.
Then another truth hit him, like a dull axe, and he heaved again. His stomach was on fire and his head felt like an orchestra was trying to play a tune without its conductor. But the most urgent thought was: what in god’s name was he going to do?
*
On the face of it, Tully was tucking in a hearty breakfast. Truth was, he was deep in thought, trying to figure out what choice to make. It had taken him all night to think and reject the choices and he had narrowed it down to two. Should he ask Mr. Chu…Banes for an explanation or should he pretend he didn’t know anything.
He knew which choice Mr. Chubs would prefer but he couldn’t bring himself to un-hear what he had heard, no matter how inconvenient. Also he couldn’t deny his curiosity. It was a story after all, one of the juiciest and he needed to know what was the truth, how much of it was ornamentation and where the lies fell.
Tully realized he had finally learnt the one lesson from Mr. Chubs that he had struggled with: looking at a story dispassionately. A storyteller had to be truthful to what would get the biggest reaction. The truth did not necessarily mean it was right. He had been angry with his master at the distinction, thinking Mr. Chubs was being a coward, again. But now he could see it. There was a sudden itch under his skin and he realized only the whole story could quench it.
*
He thought about it, seriously thought about it but in the end, Mr. Chubs couldn’t simply pack up his bags and run away. He had a responsibility to the boy, as master to apprentice at the very least. He couldn’t walk away, not without an explanation. And he had to safeguard himself. It was like he had taken away Tully’s dull wooden sword and handed him a fine blade instead. How that blade would be wielded he couldn’t foretell.
Oh this was bad. This was astronomically bad.
He had to face the music though. There were no two ways to it. So he made his way to the dining hall of the inn and found Tully in one of the corner tables. He signalled to the inn boy to get him some breakfast and then settled opposite the boy. He braced himself and chose to take the bull by the horns.
“Yes,” he started simply.
Tully pouted. He would have liked to have asked the question. “Why Chubs?”
He shrugged. “Sounded innocuous enough.”
“Why the subterfuge?”
He thought hard on how to answer that question. He had to give Tully something if he wanted the boy to back off. “When Reifire died, all from his court were in danger. I was only protecting myself.”
A smirk. “I see you always were a coward.”
Mr. Chubs didn’t deny the accusation. He didn’t think it was wrong. “What are you going to do?”
“You know,” he said not answering the question, “the royal guard is out there…”
Tully had to pause because the inn boy had come laden with food that smelt heavenly, “…looking for you?”
Mr. Chubs took a deep sniff and smiled. He bit into his loaf of bread after dipping it in the runny yellow of the eggs. This would be his last hot meal for a while. He wanted to savour it as much as he could. “I had an idea.”
“They’re close,” he said, crossing his hands on top of the table. “Here, in fact. They reached Harkness a day after you left. Imagine that. Had my father known…he would have let them arrest you in a heartbeat.”
The bread and eggs were done so he started on the sausages. The fire in his belly was all but quenched. “What about you?”
Tully didn’t say anything for the longest of times. He just observed Mr. Chu…Banes. He looked old, haggard, like all the life had been leached out of him. He didn’t know what had affected him more: the revelation of a well-guarded secret, or the closeness of the royal guard.
He had thought of extracting every bit of gossip from Banes before leaving him behind and going off on his own. He had thought about giving him up to the royal guard because Janah was offering honest to god five hundred gold coins for information regarding Banes. Not even his arrest, just information. And Tully needed the money. He was tired of his smelly clothes and runny porridge and living on the dregs of what piss poor, drunk, and mindless peasants could pay him. He had also thought about running home, with his tail between his legs, and accepting whatever discipline his father doled out to him.
But none of it was enough.
Sitting here, with Banes…no Mr. Chubs…apparently relishing the dregs, he knew exactly what would be enough.
“You may have been Banes once but you’re nothing but a poor replica now. I have no idea why Janah really wants you, our king is not stupid to spend that much coin and manpower on a has been, but you know what I no longer care. Here’s my offer. Leave. I want your wagon of books. I want all your stories. And I want your title – the travelling librarian. You’re no longer suited to the role. Leave now and I won’t breathe a word to anyone.”
The smile on his face gave Tully pause. Had he miscalculated? Panicking, he was saved from rescinding the offer and making an even bigger fool of himself by Mr. Chubs who thrust his hand out, to take the deal.
They shook hands.
“Give me an hour,” he said and went back to his breakfast.
And even though he knew just exactly what kind of a man Tully was, Mr. Chubs knew his secret would be safe.
This is Chapter 10 of 26 of The Travelling Librarian series. Written as part of #BlogchatterA2Z.
Psst: I also have 2 ebooks on Kindle – and if you’re on Kindle Unlimited, they’re free!
- Read The Gunslinger here.
- Read 23 Letters of Love here.
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