After chasing away the wyvern, or hunting it down and killing it, depending on which version of the story draft I am now on, I returned to bury my friend. Using my sword, I was able to dig a surprisingly deep grave in the soft, moist soil of the little valley. After placing Percival’s body in the ground, minus his head of course, I piled up a covering of small stones upon it. The stones were of course, all solid gold. Thus poor Percival found himself in possession of a tomb to rival the kings of old.
Bella was of course, beside herself with grief, which is to say that the was not standing beside a duplicate of her own body but that she was so stricken with grief that she was inconsolable. I tried to point out to her that she was now undoubtedly the richest centaur in the world, but she didn’t care.
“I know you are inconsolable about poor Percival,” said I. “But at least now you are undoubtedly the richest centaur in the world.”
“I don’t care,” she replied.
“You don’t mind if I…”
“No, go ahead,” she replied, puckering up her lips.
“Um no, not kiss you. I was going to start picking up gold and diamonds.”
“Oh, all right.”
I emptied out my saddlebags, which had contained mostly my dirty laundry, and began to refill them with gold and diamonds, which is to say one pocket on one side with small gold nuggets and the other pocket on the other side with diamonds of any size I could find. I had them only partially filled when I looked up and noticed that Bella had produced her own sack and was filling it with as many riches as it would hold.
“I thought you didn’t care,” I pointed out.
“I don’t. But since I have to live my life without my Percival, I might as well live it rich rather than poor.”
“That is good thinking,” I agreed. “Will you go back to the herd?”
“No, I have no wish to see them ever again. I am going to go live among the humans. Perhaps I will find my brother. They say humans are more accepting than centaurs. If you have enough money, I hear, anyone can be accepted into their civilization.”
“I have always found that to be the case.”
By the time we had finished becoming the richest man and the richest centaur, if not in the world then certainly in the awful land of Ennedi, it was growing dark. I had collected not only enough gold and diamonds to fill my saddlebags, but my duffle, my backpack, four burlap sacks, and every pocket that I had, and I happily used one of the burlap sacks as an expensive but somewhat less than comfortable pillow that evening. Where there are trees, even miniature ones, there is bound to be dead wood, and sure enough I found some lying about. Within a few minutes I had a splendid little campfire going, which was only spoiled by the fact that we had nothing cooking above it. We passed the night lost in our own thoughts, which is to say not talking but no doubt thinking.
We were quite hungry the next morning, and had in fact, scarcely any food at all on our way north to the port town of Something. We traveled for six days, but eventually returned to what passed for a bastion of civilization in Ennedi. It was exactly as it had been upon my departure—like it was about to fall over, except for the stable, which was still in quite good repair.
It was here we stopped first.
“Ahoy! I need to stable my horses!” I called when we stepped inside.
“Of course you do,” said the voice from in back.
Seconds later, Hercule the centaur stable master stepped out into the light. “Why else would you come to a stable if not to stable your…?”
His voice trailed off when he saw my companion, which is to say the female centaur who accompanied me.
“Who are you?” he asked her.
“My name is Bella,” she replied. “And you are Hercule. You are my great uncle.”
“Notwithstanding the fact that this is a touching family reunion, I would like to stable Hysteria and Susan here for a few nights. At least until the next ship on its way to Aerithraine arrives at the dock.”
Hysteria snorted as if to say “don’t forget about a good rub-down and some fine oats.”
“And they need a good rub-down and some fine oats.”
Susan rolled her eyes as if to say, “I could certainly use some fresh water.”
“And they need some fresh water,” said I.
“Don’t worry, Eaglethorpe,” said Bella. “I will see that Uncle Hercule takes good care of them.”
I took my saddlebags and walked two doors down to the inn, where I secured a room for the night. I was quite hungry, and had been dreaming of a nice fish and chips—and not mud fish or muck fish or slime fish. So taking a walk down to the dock, I found the local fishmonger’s stand.
“I want a nice fish to take back to the inn,” I told the fishmonger. “I will have the cook there fix up some fish and chips.”
“I have plenty of mud fish,” he said.
“Speak not to me of mud fish,” quoth I. “And if you mention muck fish or slime fish, so help me, I shall run you through!”
He stood silently, no doubt unsure whether he should promote some other type of fish or run away. I pointed to a large fish on the back of his cart.
“Is that not a sea bass?” I asked.
“No,” he replied. “It is a tuna.”
“Are they good to eat?”
“Indeed.”
I reached into my pocket and withdrew two large gold nuggets, which I handed to him.
“Filet that tuba for me…”
“It is a tuna,” he said, but then looked at the gold in his hand. “Or tuba. It’s just as good a name. I will have it filleted and sent to the inn right for supper.”
“Oh no,” said I. “You will filet it now. I won’t have you switching it out for some other less desirable amphibian.”
“As you wish,” he said, taking a large knife to the creature.
He cut off the head and then slit it down its belly. Then he reached in and pulled out the guts, and when he did so, something bright and shiny came out with them. He held it up for me.
“It’s your fish, so this rightly belongs to you,” he said.
I took it and looked at it in wonder. It was my own fork, given to me so many years ago by the Queen of Aerithraine herself. As I ran my fingers over the very sharp tines and detailed scrollwork on the handle around a stylish letter E, I couldn’t help but fondly remember two beautiful, nicely oiled, if somewhat on the small side, breasts.