"Hello boys, come in for a short time or a long time – but I'll guarantee you a good time," purred a scantily clad, curvaceous vision by a doorway. Her ruby lips puckered and promised sensuous things. Bruno's eyes could hardly tear themselves away to modestly look in a different direction.
"Are... you the lady with the snake?" The words blurted out unbidden and he wished he had control of his blathering mouth to stop any further indiscretions.
Her tinkling laughter enticed him. "No love, that's Therese, and she's a performance artist. You can find her two doors down. But she's busy with the new ship what came in yesterday."
"The whole ship?" Bruno asked in site of himself.
She laughed again. "Yeah, that's nothing for her and that snake of hers." Twirling her hair slowly and slightly licking her parted lips, she asked, "So, can I entertain you until she is ready for you?"
"Bruno, we have business," hissed Fielden.
Clearing his throat and weakly giving her a wave good bye, Bruno turned and said, "Not with me – Captain said I had to stay out of trouble. The place you are looking for is through that gap in the buildings – tell them Torish sent you to speak with Amos. I'm... ahh... going two doors down to check things out. Give a yell if you need me." With that he strode purposefully off.
Fielden motioned the others to follow him and sauntered confidently through the alley, rapping on the thick door at the end. A tiny sliding panel opened at the top of the door and suspicious eyes peered out.
"We are here to speak with Amos." Fielden said in a bored tone.
"Yeah? Says who?" came the reply.
Smoothly countering with "Torish sends his best regards," Fielden inspected his fingernails.
"Huh – I bet he does. I didn't think he was still alive. Come in quickly," was the muffled reply as locks clicked and turned.
The men were ushered into a small room crammed with dusty bottles and tubing hanging from the ceiling. Dozens of cats wound their bodies around them in greeting.
The bent figure fluttered his hands about in apology. "Sorry, there's nowhere to sit, I have my stock everywhere at the moment. I'm Amos."
The men allowed their eyesight to adjust the gloomy interior, which now seemed writhing in furry bodies.
Fielden gave a slight bow. "Lucio Mattis – Merchant and Businessman. Señor Torish sent us to enquire about you building him a still. We are to take it back to him when we return to the Royal Courts."
Amos howled with laughter. "He did, did he? Well I owe him that at least." He looked about on the ceiling and grabbed a few parts down, muttering to himself. "I don't have all the piping I need. It will take about a week for me to secure the correct gauges."
"A week!" spluttered Peitro.
"Peace Peter" hushed Fielden. "That will be fine. I am however, curious to this contraption we are taking back to Torish. It's not dangerous is it?"
Another howl of laughter from Amos confirmed to the group that he was either drunk or mad; or perhaps a mixture of both.
"Let me show you around." Amos said, lifting a tabby cat from a bench top. He then removed a large cloth from an oddly shaped table with a flourish.
A crazy mass of pipes and bubbling vessels, punctuated by a little hiss of steam and a constant drip fizzed and popped from underneath. Amos grabbed a dirty earthen mug from the floor and pushed it under the thick drip, collecting a good stream of it. He thrust it into Peitro's hands and encouraged him to drink. Peitro's face turned a shade of crimson, but his pride refused to allow him to splutter or gag.
"Humm, yes it's alright." He croaked managing to review the liquid without flames emitting from his mouth.
"So, how does this all work?" Fielden enquired.
Delighted to have an interested group, Amos plunged into a detailed explanation, but after about five minutes, the mens' eyes glazed over. Undeterred Amos continued, unwilling to set his captive audience free until they understood each intricate working of his invention.
Garcia began to jiggle the iron shot in his pockets, eager to get some action happening. Fielden put a hand on his shoulder – "Not yet lad. Our time will come." Looking at Amos, he continued, "We must be off with other errands."
Amos nodded and then suddenly poked a finger in the air and exclaimed, "Where are my manners? Wait here, I'll give a you a bottle to take back to your digs while you wait for me to put this still together for Señor Torish."
Calisto whispered out of the side of his mouth, "There's no way we are going to be able to make this thing work."
Groaning, Pietro replied, "We have to – otherwise it's port for the next year."
"He's got to come with us. He'll have to make it for us," exclaimed Fielden. Then summarizing his plan whilst tentatively looking toward the doorway in which Amos had disappeared, he directed, "Calisto – you grab him when he comes out, and tie him up. Peitro – get some blankets and some boxes – we need to get this thing back on board in one piece. Start loading it up carefully once Amos is secured."
"What can I do?" Garcia eagerly cried, fuse in hand.
Smiling Fielden put his hand on his shoulder, "Not yet, Garcia and put that away. Go and get Bruno – he's down with the snake lady."
A cry of alarm and a shattering of bottles distracted their conversation. Spinning around, they discovered Amos struggling on the floor with Peitro sitting atop and Calisto swinging madly with the leg of a chair.
"Stop that!" Feilden cried, "You'll kill him." He sighed heavily, grabbing the leg from Calisto. "Do I need to do everything?"
Amos's panicked eyes closed slowly as drifted into an oxygen deprived unconscious state. Feilden released his hands from his mouth and nose and ensured Amos's breathing returned to normal before standing up. "Now just gag him and tie him up." He ordered.
"Are... you the lady with the snake?" The words blurted out unbidden and he wished he had control of his blathering mouth to stop any further indiscretions.
Her tinkling laughter enticed him. "No love, that's Therese, and she's a performance artist. You can find her two doors down. But she's busy with the new ship what came in yesterday."
"The whole ship?" Bruno asked in site of himself.
She laughed again. "Yeah, that's nothing for her and that snake of hers." Twirling her hair slowly and slightly licking her parted lips, she asked, "So, can I entertain you until she is ready for you?"
"Bruno, we have business," hissed Fielden.
Clearing his throat and weakly giving her a wave good bye, Bruno turned and said, "Not with me – Captain said I had to stay out of trouble. The place you are looking for is through that gap in the buildings – tell them Torish sent you to speak with Amos. I'm... ahh... going two doors down to check things out. Give a yell if you need me." With that he strode purposefully off.
Fielden motioned the others to follow him and sauntered confidently through the alley, rapping on the thick door at the end. A tiny sliding panel opened at the top of the door and suspicious eyes peered out.
"We are here to speak with Amos." Fielden said in a bored tone.
"Yeah? Says who?" came the reply.
Smoothly countering with "Torish sends his best regards," Fielden inspected his fingernails.
"Huh – I bet he does. I didn't think he was still alive. Come in quickly," was the muffled reply as locks clicked and turned.
The men were ushered into a small room crammed with dusty bottles and tubing hanging from the ceiling. Dozens of cats wound their bodies around them in greeting.
The bent figure fluttered his hands about in apology. "Sorry, there's nowhere to sit, I have my stock everywhere at the moment. I'm Amos."
The men allowed their eyesight to adjust the gloomy interior, which now seemed writhing in furry bodies.
Fielden gave a slight bow. "Lucio Mattis – Merchant and Businessman. Señor Torish sent us to enquire about you building him a still. We are to take it back to him when we return to the Royal Courts."
Amos howled with laughter. "He did, did he? Well I owe him that at least." He looked about on the ceiling and grabbed a few parts down, muttering to himself. "I don't have all the piping I need. It will take about a week for me to secure the correct gauges."
"A week!" spluttered Peitro.
"Peace Peter" hushed Fielden. "That will be fine. I am however, curious to this contraption we are taking back to Torish. It's not dangerous is it?"
Another howl of laughter from Amos confirmed to the group that he was either drunk or mad; or perhaps a mixture of both.
"Let me show you around." Amos said, lifting a tabby cat from a bench top. He then removed a large cloth from an oddly shaped table with a flourish.
A crazy mass of pipes and bubbling vessels, punctuated by a little hiss of steam and a constant drip fizzed and popped from underneath. Amos grabbed a dirty earthen mug from the floor and pushed it under the thick drip, collecting a good stream of it. He thrust it into Peitro's hands and encouraged him to drink. Peitro's face turned a shade of crimson, but his pride refused to allow him to splutter or gag.
"Humm, yes it's alright." He croaked managing to review the liquid without flames emitting from his mouth.
"So, how does this all work?" Fielden enquired.
Delighted to have an interested group, Amos plunged into a detailed explanation, but after about five minutes, the mens' eyes glazed over. Undeterred Amos continued, unwilling to set his captive audience free until they understood each intricate working of his invention.
Garcia began to jiggle the iron shot in his pockets, eager to get some action happening. Fielden put a hand on his shoulder – "Not yet lad. Our time will come." Looking at Amos, he continued, "We must be off with other errands."
Amos nodded and then suddenly poked a finger in the air and exclaimed, "Where are my manners? Wait here, I'll give a you a bottle to take back to your digs while you wait for me to put this still together for Señor Torish."
Calisto whispered out of the side of his mouth, "There's no way we are going to be able to make this thing work."
Groaning, Pietro replied, "We have to – otherwise it's port for the next year."
"He's got to come with us. He'll have to make it for us," exclaimed Fielden. Then summarizing his plan whilst tentatively looking toward the doorway in which Amos had disappeared, he directed, "Calisto – you grab him when he comes out, and tie him up. Peitro – get some blankets and some boxes – we need to get this thing back on board in one piece. Start loading it up carefully once Amos is secured."
"What can I do?" Garcia eagerly cried, fuse in hand.
Smiling Fielden put his hand on his shoulder, "Not yet, Garcia and put that away. Go and get Bruno – he's down with the snake lady."
A cry of alarm and a shattering of bottles distracted their conversation. Spinning around, they discovered Amos struggling on the floor with Peitro sitting atop and Calisto swinging madly with the leg of a chair.
"Stop that!" Feilden cried, "You'll kill him." He sighed heavily, grabbing the leg from Calisto. "Do I need to do everything?"
Amos's panicked eyes closed slowly as drifted into an oxygen deprived unconscious state. Feilden released his hands from his mouth and nose and ensured Amos's breathing returned to normal before standing up. "Now just gag him and tie him up." He ordered.
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