[Mkguild] MK- "Dreams" (5.5/7)

[Hallan Mirayas]

  "I'm really honored, my friend," Misha said, putting a hand on Drift's shoulder, "and I will guard it with my life, but you're going to live a long life yourself."

  Drift set the chair right side up again before reaching over and chugging down the last few swallows of his wine.  "Better safe than sorry," he said before letting fly a long, rattling burp that he made absolutely no effort to muffle.  When he noticed Misha's startled look, he laughed.  "Hey, it's not my fault you belch like a little girl.  This is a bachelor flat.  I can do what I please."

  Misha laughed. "Wait 'til we get you a girlfriend. She'll clean that up!"

  Drift opened his mouth for a retort, but shut it again without saying anything, a blush creeping into his ears.  "Um," he said, glancing involuntarily toward his pillow, where he had hidden the other book when Misha came in.

  The fox spotted the glance and pounced.  "Aha!  What do we have here?" he asked, leaning across the samoyed and darting a hand under the pillow before jumping up and moving just out of reach despite the dog-man's protests.  His tail wagged in good-natured amusement as he flipped the book open... and then stopped still in surprise when he saw what was inside.  "Drift?  What is this?" he asked, turning the book to show a schematic drawing.  It looked like some sort of staff...

  Now it was Drift's turn to duck his head and ears, and his tail tucked as much as his seated position would allow.  "Just some ideas I've had...  nothing important," he replied, looking down and away.  For a moment, he looked like a young child caught doing something wrong and expecting punishment for it.

  "Drift," Misha said, looking the drawings over. "These are really good!  And ingenious!"  He looked closer, squinting at the details.  "This is a weapon?  It looks like something Rickkter would love to have."

  The samoyed replied with a sigh and a shake of his head.  "It's impossible.  I can't get it to work.  I want it to collapse into a portable size, or extend to battle length, but the only way I can think of would make it so big you couldn't hold it or so flimsy it would be useless.  Not to mention the extendable spikes at the ends," he adds, standing up and walking over to point at a small inset in the corner of the page.  "If it -worked-, it would be ingenious.  As it is, it's just another wasted fancy."

  Misha examined the drawing closely.  "It's not a wasted fancy at all. This is really good.  It could work.  What metal are you trying to make it from?"

  Drift gave Misha an ears-back look of bafflement.  "How on earth -could- that work?  No metal I've heard of could be thin enough to collapse into a cylinder you could hold in your hand, and still be strong enough to stand up to blows like I can deliver as a taur.  Which is what that weapon is designed for."  Reaching past Misha, he flipped to the next page.  "These, at least, are a little more practical."  He pointed to a roughly sketched taur, with focus added on the forearm, which was clad in a strange armguard .  Projecting backward from it was a spike or blade, its obvious purpose to discourage someone from climbing onto the taur's back or encouraging them to get off.  The taur's feet were shod in metal boots, like those Misha had designed himself, but with the addition of claws.  An alternate version had leather laced up the legs, using metal only for the soles of the feet, which were designed to leave counterfeit tracks like those of cows, horses, or other beasts.

  "These schematics are amazing, Drift," Misha said.  "I truely mean it.  And as an ex-siege engineer, I have an eye for things like this."  Drift, his previous guilty embarrassment forgotten, flipped to the next page, with the scribbled label 'icehouse'.  It looked like a standard warehouse, until Misha noticed all the notes mentioning insulation.  "What is this?" the fox asked.  "Why all the insulation?"

  Drift pointed to a drawing of a normal horse, harnessed to an odd, weighted sled with metal rails.  "Note how specific the width is here and here?  This is so that the two rails are parallel.  See the hooked ends?  That's for carving ice.  Find a large frozen pond or lake, drag those repeatedly across the same patch of ice, and eventually, they'll carve through.  Now do the same at right angles to the first cuts and you've got an ice block that you can fish out and haul away.  Not very useful solo, but let's say you do that across an entire lake and fill that warehouse.  If you insulate it well, you'll have ice all the way into summer and fall."

  "An ice house, huh?  You could keep ice all summer and have no need for expensive magic spells.  Drift, why haven't you tried to make any of these things?" Misha asked as he looked up from the book. "They could all work very well."

  Drift looked away again, that guilty expression returning.  "Do you really think I could have afforded any of it?  I'm not exactly swimming in coins here."  It was part of the answer, but judging by his body language not all of it.

  In reply, Misha reached into the pouch hanging on his belt and dropped a large collection of golden coins onto the bed. "Money is no problem. At least, not with this fox helping you."

  Drift pulled back sharply, nearly jostling the book from Misha's hands, his expression shocked as the fistful of garretts clinked onto his bed.  It was easily two, more likely three years worth of smithing.  "What?  How?  Where did you get all that?" he finally asked.

  "I come from a very successful merchant family, and Will and my clocks sell for a tidy sum.  It also helps that I get 5 gold for every lutin I kill."

  Still in shock, the samoyed sat down on the bed, the small pile of coins sliding toward him in a small flood of clinking gold.  He absently picked one up and flicked it with a claw out of sheer habit, his expression suggesting he didn't even know he was doing it.  When Misha chuckled and agreed that yes, it was real gold, Drift blinked and blushed, hastily putting the coin back down.  "Um.  I don't know what to say," was his honest reply, ears flicking back and forth in open confusion.  "This is... far too much," he continued after another long moment.  "I..."

  "You can say it's a deal, brother.  I'll supply the money and you supply the great ideas."  Misha's tail swished calmly. "I've never let the pursuit of money control my life."

  Drift, who had started to gather the coins together to give them back, paused and looked up, one ear back and slightly to the side.  "A... business partnership?  Is that what you're offering?  Because I don't know if I'll -have- any more.  They seem to come in fits and starts."  His other ear joined its fellow as he started to look aside.  "Besides... Dad always wanted this forge to be a success, and if that's going to happen, I can't waste time chasing dreams."

  Misha grabbed Drift by the muzzle and stared him straight in the eyes, ear angrily flicked down to the side.  "-Never- give up on your dreams.  Dreams are what keep us alive.  I'm a killer.  The duke pays me to kill lutins.  That gets me money.  But my dream is to build a fine piece of art like Madog."

  Drift's ears went flat back against his skull, the whites showing around the corners of his eyes, and he pushed at Misha's arm until the fox let go.  "Don't...  don't do that," he said, backing away, visibly scared, looking anywhere but the fox's eyes.  "Dad used to do that when he was mad."

  Misha backed away and went quiet for a moment, digesting that fact behind thoughtful eyes. "I'm sorry, Drift.  I didn't mean to... alarm you.  But never, ever give up on your dreams."  To give Drift some time to pull himself together, the fox flipped to the next page and tried to puzzle it out himself.  He recognized the windmill, but what was the braided line to the next building over for?  Then it hit him...  it was a chain!  Looped around gears in the windmill, it stretched across to the other building, where the energy from the turning windmill was harnessed for work, rather than keeping everything in a single building.  A note scribbled above the chain suggested that length was not a problem, just keeping it from being tampered with by innocent bystanders.  'Cover, perhaps?' was written nearby, along with 'could be used with a waterwheel, too.'

  Flipping to the next page, he saw a large ship.  The strange thing about it was that it had no sails.  Instead, it had a waterwheel on each side, an arrow suggesting that they were rotating to push the water rather than be pushed by it.  'Needs power source!!' was scrawled in an angry slant on the opposing page.

  The next page brought Misha up short, because this wasn't a schematic at all.  Instead, it was a handsomely drawn sketch of some sort of bat, but with a vixen's head.  'Alexis' was carefully written underneath, and great care and attention had been given to details of the sketch itself, down to the lay of her fur and the curve of her wings...

  "Now -this- is an invention I like," Misha said in a cheerful tone, his smile impish. "Where did you meet this Alexis?"  Drift's eyes went wide and he blushed so brightly that it could be seen around his nose as well as in his ears.  He made a hasty grab for the book, but Misha easily evaded it and continued, "And can you build one for me, too?"  He turned the book sideways for another look and whistled.  "Is she wearing -anything- under that wing?"

  The poor samoyed put his head in his hand and mumbled a reply that Misha didn't quite catch.

  "What's that?" prodded the highly amused fox.  "Speak up, now, brother."

  Drift opened an eye and scowled at Misha.  "I said I ran into her tree."

  "You whahaha?" Misha asked, breaking into a startled laugh mid-question.  Dodging another snatch for the book, he asked again, "You what?"  Whatever Misha had been expecting, it hadn't been that.

  "Stop looking at her like that," Drift snapped with an ears-flat frown, dropping his hand to reveal a jealous, defensive anger written openly across his face.  He held out an expectant hand toward Misha.  "And give me back my book, please."

  Reluctantly, the fox handed over the treasure.  "She really does look cute.  Did you really run into her tree?  Couldn't you have just said hello like normal people?"

  "Yes, I really ran into her tree," Drift replied, taking the book back and holding it close.  "More specifically, my head ran into the limb she was sleeping on.  I was out for my pre-dawn run around town three nights ago, just before the Questioners showed up, and I tried for a shortcut through an orchard."  He put his hand to his right forehead, as if checking for something.  "Yeah, I still have a bit of a lump left over from it."

  Misha shook his head, trying to supress a smile and failing. "You need to watch those low-lying branches. They're tricky and evil, just waiting for you to get close so they can reach out and attack you."

  Drift thumped his tail on the bed in amusement, his ire fading.  "Funny guy.  It didn't help that I was a foot taller than normal."

  "You were running in -taur- form, and beaned yourself?  Ouch."

  "Yeah.  Alexis said I was out cold for about five minutes.  And, in answer to your question, no, she wasn't wearing anything under that wing.  She sleeps in animal form to save on living expenses."

  "I keep warning you that being a taur takes a lot of getting used to. You are a lot taller and heavier then when two-legged."

  Drift snorted.  "Yes, I was made painfully aware of that," he replied dryly.  "Though at the training session later that day, it came in handy."

  Misha snickered.  "So I heard.  Did your really kick that poor man in the family treasure chest?  George said Wolfram couldn't speak for five minutes."

  "Closer to three, I think, but it was his fault for giving me the opening.  He loves to taunt while he's fighting, and he just -had- to pause for a dramatic line before the coup de grace.  He was standing right astride my legs, so I took the chance he gave me and it only cost me a battered old pair of pants.  I thought Coe was going to have conniptions when he saw me on his doorstep again."

  "Are you sure you aren't secretly in love with Coe?  I've heard rumors to that effect." Misha kidded.  "You always seem to be in the infirmary getting patched up by him."

  Drift rolled his eyes at the fox.  "I never pictured you as one who listens to rumors.  At least not rumors of -that- type."  Without realizing he was doing it, he stroked the cover of his little black book, and a smile started to creep onto his face as Alexis' face in the moonlight drifted across his imagination.

  Misha noticed the dreamy smile.  "You're thinking about her again, aren't you?" the fox asked.  "I know that look all too well.  You've got it -bad-."

  Ears pink with a fresh blush, Drift nodded.  "She's probably pretty ticked at me now, though.  When last I saw her, out by the castle gates-"

  "I heard about -that-, too," Misha interrupted with a laugh, smacking a fist into his hand.  "Pow, right off the wall track and straight into a mud puddle."

  "I, er, kind of got roped into a date that night," Drift continued, scratching behind an ear, his head slightly ducked.  "And I kind of missed it when I barricaded myself in here."

  "Oh!" Misha said with an empathetic wince.  "You really -are- in trouble."  He pondered for a moment, stroking his chin before continuing.  "My suggestion is an 'I'm sorry' gift. A nice bouquet of flowers or sweet treats and a lot of 'I'm sorry's.  A nice dinner at a fancy restaurant could work well, too."

  "Ummm...  I really don't know that much about her."  Drift shuffled his hands nervously.  "I've only met her twice.  I don't know what she likes.  She called herself a fruit bat, and she was sleeping in an apple orchard, but she's so unpredictable..."

  "All right, how about a double date?  Caroline and I and you two go to a fine little place I know down in Euper.  It's a little hole-in-the-wall place I stumbled across one day, and their food is really spectacular."

  "You'd do that?"  Misha had to struggle not to laugh at how pitifully eager Drift looked, his tail wagging so hard that it thumped against the mattress at the end of each sweep.  "That would be wonderful!"

  The fox gave in after only a few moments and laughed anyway. "Down, boy!" he said, waving his hand for emphasis.  It didn't help, because Drift was already up and bouncing happily about.  "And of course I'd do that.  I haven't taken Caroline out to dinner in a long time."  He stooped to pick up Drift's idea book, which had fallen from his lap again, the portrait of Alexis half folded over.  The next page caught Misha's eye and he flipped to it.  The schematic was even sketchier than any of the others, as if only partly finished, but the shape reminded him of something.  He flipped back to Alexis' portrait, and then looked at the schematic again.  It looked almost like her spread wings...

  "Drift?  What's this?" he asked, reaching out to snag the happy canine as he passed, and tapped the drawing.

  "That?  I don't really know yet.  She stretched her wings out full once, to demonstrate their span, and something hit me."  He swirled his fingers like someone who is trying to remember something half-forgotten.  "I haven't quite figured out what that something was yet, but there's something interesting there."

  Misha snickered.  "Did she do that while she was still naked?"  He laughed when the question brought the samoyed to a stuttering, blushing halt.  "I'll take that as a yes."  After a few moments, he let the dog-man off the hook.  "Tell you what…"  He clapped the book closed and set it on his lap.  "I'll be in my workshop installing those gears you finished.  You go find your lady friend and get back to me with a time, alright?"

  Drift nodded.  "That's fair.  Have you had a chance to look at the scrap metal you wanted to test for impurities?"

  "Yes, I did.  The scrap you gave me was, for the most part, absolutely -riddled- with phosphorus and sulfur.  Whoever sold it to you cheated you."  He paused and fished around in a pocket.  "Which reminds me...  Here, I made this for you.  It should help."

  "What is it?" Drift asked, taking the gift and turning it over in his hands, examining the runed metal.

  "Are you familiar with the concept of a tuning fork?  Strike it against something and it rings a very specific note?  This particular fork, when struck against metal, will ring clear if it's pure, quietly if it's of middling quality, and make a flat clack if it's bad.  Just take it with you when you go on your next supply run and tap it against any metal you're about to buy.  Your ears shouldn't have any problem telling the difference.  Just name the metal you're testing for first."

  Drift smiled and set the fork on the table.  "Thanks, brother."

  "Not going to test it?"

  "Why?  I trust you to know what you're doing."

  Misha smiled at the compliment, his own tail giving a thump on the bed.  "That said, a good portion of your scrap was also overheated.  Did you ever get that figured out?"

  "Yeah, Pascal gave me a...  what did she call it?  A thermometer to measure the temperature.  I've been working on figuring it out."

  "A what?" Misha asked. "I usually just measure the temperature with a spell and by sight. How does it work?"

  "Here, let me show you."  He beckoned, taking his idea book back from Misha and setting it on the table before leading the way to the forge room.


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