Scene Seventy Nine
In which we catch up with a division of characters
Greg watched the sunrise from a park bench, simply for the sheer novelty of being able to watch the sunrise without someone attacking him. The light spread beautifully over the town, showing all the buildings to the fresh morning.
Foxvison had changed a lot since his youth. He could remember standing next to his uncle after they had started leveling the ground, and telling him that a interspeciated town could never work. Greg looked around and had to admit that he had been wrong on that count; it was a real shame that he would never get to tell his uncle that, and an even greater shame that he hadn’t realized it himself years ago; he was sure that there was some way to exploit the concept of interspeciated towns for profit.
He walked down a convenient alleyway to take a more direct route back to the inn. There was a plump cat cleaning itself on top of the wall, it looked up as he passed, but otherwise ignored him.
Greg knew that he couldn’t stay here, it was far too obvious a place for him to go; the town founded by his Uncle. Hell, he thought, we were never meant to come here in the first place. He had meant to lay a trail towards the town and then veer off into the wilderness, but then they had picked Gileppi and he hadn’t been able to talk with Crazy Sven, and then there had been the cliff.
Greg shook his head, rubbing his temples with his fingertips. Crazy Sven, now there was another issue altogether. The taxi simply wasn’t going to run again, Greg wasn’t a mechanic but that much was obvious.
He wasn’t much of a people person either, but even he could see that Crazy Sven had adopted a bedside manner towards his car which would be appropriate for a sick child. Crazy Sven wouldn’t leave, no matter how much he wanted to stay with Greg.
Greg found himself hoping that something would attack them, purely so he would be able to leave without having to say goodbye, he wondered just when he had become so emotional, and why; it really hurt.
There was something else too; Greg’s reasonable mind wasn’t entirely dulled. Crazy Sven couldn’t do stealth; Greg didn’t think he would even have to ask. The man was the polar opposite of lying low, laying low with him would be like walking around with a four Kilometer wide target pinned to the top of his head.
For the first time since the man had splinted his broken leg at the bottom of a mountain he had stopped being an asset and had turned into a huge liability; and for the first time in his life, Greg hated himself for thinking in those terms.
When this is over, thought Greg, and I am rich beyond the majority of my dreams, I’ll pay Crazy Sven back somehow. I mean it’s not like the taxi is entirely unfixable, we just need to replace the suspension, and the wheels, and the gear box, and the chassis.
Greg shook his head again, I’m doing that a lot, he realized, I hope I don’t end up wrinkled from all this worrying. Then he smiled, wrinkles were a really stupid thing to be worrying about.
I’ll have to tell him, Greg decided, I’ll have to say goodbye properly. But maybe not today; this village is comfortable, and there will be time tomorrow.