Strange would be the sight if someone entered the Sign of The Screaming Monkey's Head at this moment. They would be presented with the image of a greyish unkempt man slumped at a bar stool, two incongruent characters at his side.
On his left, an expanse of darkness, leaning softly over and whispering in his ear. On his right, a flickering brightness in an apron, murmuring rhythmically into his other ear. Before him, a bit of stone, and some sort of cloth or paper.
"You are nearing a decision point," Sylk breathed into the left ear, affecting the right hemisphere of Fred's brain.
Sing song from Kindly Bob directly to the left hemisphere:
"Many are the answers,They worked in harmony, splitting the brain function, separating Fred's personality, opening up potentialities. Dangerous work indeed in the hands of amateurs. Dicey still with experts such as these two.
many are the questions,
what not to know?
what not to know?"
Their need was great.
Kindly Bob, still chanting, raised one of Fred's eyelids. The eye darted to and fro, up and down. "REM stage sleep. He's in," he told Sylk.
Gently they lifted him, still whispering, and carried him to the back room. Laying him on the bed, they left, closing the door behind them. Kindly Bob paused outside the door, manipulating something on the wall. A faint hum, and the doorway slid to the side and disappeared into the corner. He and Sylk rearranged some boxes against the wall, and surveyed what was now a simple storage cubby off the main hall. Nodding at each other, they returned to the main room. Sylk asked "How long?"
Fred looked at his watch-less wrist, and considered the question. Looking back up at Sylk, he pressed his lips tightly, then replied, "30 hours, according to the Formulary. But, he went under too fast. I don't know what that means."
"Too fast?" asked Sylk.
"Well, faster by about a third than what I was told. It should be within the margin." He stopped, looking back toward the hidden storage room. "Shorter or longer though? Shorter would be better." Shaking his head slowly and looking at Sylk with a small grimace, he added, "It's hard to say with him."
When they returned to the main room, Sylk took up the stone, and Kindly Bob folded and put away the parchment. They exchanged knowing looks, and Kindly Bob drew Sylk another Stout.
"Hard days are coming," said Sylk, regarding himself in the mirror behind the bar. "Indeed. And harder nights," was the grim reply.
Kindly Bob prepared himself a green liquid, and Sylk raised an eyebrow.
"Ahh yes, the Greene Faery," said Kindly Bob, hoisting his glass. "'Tis a slight indulgence."
With an easy movement, Sylk gained possession of the glass, but found himself with a stout in one hand, the illegal drink in another, and a knife at his throat. Raising his eyes slowly from the knife to lock gazes with Kindly Bob, he stated grimly, "You're going to look pretty funny with that knife sticking out of your ass."
Kindly Bob considered this a long moment. Slowly he retracted the knife, and then it was gone, as quickly as it appeared. "I forget myself," was his only apology.
Sylk poured the green evanesence out onto the floor, where it was absorbed quickly by the thirsty wood planks. Handing the glass back to Kindly Bob, he said approvingly, "You are very quick. As I replay what happened, I'm surprised I could get the glass from you."
In a wondering voice, Kindly Bob replied, "You telegraph nothing. I am quick. But, I am no seer." He paused, regarding Sylk as if for the first time. "You on the other hand are not particularly quick, yet, you had the glass before I realized it." Incredulously, "That has never happened."
"Not too surprising, if you are indeed an addict," said Sylk.
"My kind cannot get addicted. Not in the usual sense. Sometimes we crave--release. But, you should know that. It's in my bio."
"No," said Sylk. "It's not."
Kindly Bob cocked an eyebrow. "That's interesting," he said. "I wonder what else we might want to know about each other that was left out?"
"And was it deliberate or accidental?"
"They do nothing accidentally."
Sylk nodded. "We have some time to compare notes."
Kindly Bob poured himself an acceptable drink, and they began exchanging information in low tones over the bar.
After about 90 minutes of low earnest discussion, Sylk rose and stretched. Hoisting himself up onto the bar, he straightened up his spine. Sitting tall and still, legs crossed, hands on his knees, he closed his eyes.
He took a long deep breath, held it for 8 powerful heartbeats, and let it out slow and controlled through his nostrils, another 8 count. Small furrows in his brow relaxed and disappeared. One more slow deliberate breath and he opened alert sparkling eyes, turned to Kindly Bob and said, "Let's prepare for what may come."
"I wish I could do that," Kindly Bob said, a wistful look on his face.
Sylk was mildly surprised. "You don't need sleep."
"There's a difference between needing, and wanting," was the flat response.
The night was passing quickly. The grimy windows, once the darkest feature along the far side of the tavern,were now ghosly panels of grey, betraying the coming dawn.
"We've just got time for a sweep and a mop," Kindly Bob said to Sylk, pointing to a closet on the opposite wall. "I'll get these dishes and glasses, and fire up the stove." They busied themselves, preparing for the breakfast trade.
At 6 a.m. there was a tap at the tavern door. Sylk vanished from the room, and Kindly Bob, looking fresh and relaxed, let in the morning waitress.
to be continued Episode Five
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