Chapter Thirty Two – Vim – A Snake’s Requests

      “You’ve done well, Vim.”

Sitting in front of the two snakes, I nodded in thanks to their words and their gentle smiles.

“Really. By saving her, you saved their bloodline. A hope. A beacon of hope,” Trixalla said.

Her husband nodded, his half-closed eyes giving him a tired look.

“We’ll see. I’m glad Porka’s fine. Windle had told me she was pregnant, he hadn’t mentioned that she was pregnant with her fourth,” I said.

Last I had known they had two daughters. Although the oldest had left on a journey many years ago, and hadn’t returned yet.

Might not ever.

“And for a boy to be born, maybe it is fate?” Trixalla said happily.

“Fate’s not that kind, usually,” I said.

Trixalla’s smile died a little, but she didn’t hiss at me. Instead her husband smirked and nodded. “Indeed,” he agreed.

“Shush,” she chastised her husband, and I noticed the way her voice elongated the sound of the word.

Snakes indeed.

We were alone, sitting in their living room. At a comfortable table, with large chairs. Their attendant, the squirrel, wasn’t here… but I was thankful for it. He was…

“Will you stay awhile, Vim?” Mork asked.

“I will. At least a few weeks, to be sure… though something tells me it’s a useless worry,” I said.

Lomi was right now outside playing with the other fox children. I could hear their laughter and noises, even from across the road.

The two old snakes smiled, and I knew they too could hear that fact. Especially Mork.

“She had been so meek last night,” Trixalla said.

“Skittish,” Mork corrected.

I nodded. She had been. Not just of these two, but the fox family as well.

It had only taken a few hours for her weariness to be forgotten. Casted aside, as if it had never existed.

The two older daughters, Yelma and Pelka, were about twice the age of Lomi. But thanks to the way our kind took forever to age, they not only looked barely any older but acted it as well.

Horn, the young boy, was in fact only a year or two younger than Lomi.

He was already as tall as her. Ears included.

All four were noisy, giggling and playing with what sounded some kind of ball. Something made of leather. They’d kick it up against what sounded like the fence on occasion, telling me that it was far heavier a ball than what a human child would play with.

I knew Porka and her husband, Bjorn, were watching over them. Like most of our kind, the moment they got a new child they became exceedingly protective.

It’d only take a few years, but Lomi would blend right in. It’d not take her long to start acting like an actual member of the family. Odds were the next time I visited; she’d be calling Porka and Bjorn mother and father.

“Before you leave Vim, sometime this month the Lord of the Merchant Guild is to come and negotiate the new contract. Would you please stick around until then, at least?” Mork asked.

I frowned, but nodded. “Getting so old you don’t find negotiating fun anymore?” I asked him.

Mork’s wide mouth got even wider as he smiled. “Just figured it was a good opportunity. Although we only re-negotiate every five years, we’ve been doing it enough now that it’s time someone else stood in for us,” Mork said.

I nodded. That made perfect sense. Especially if it’s the same merchant as last time.

“I’m expecting them to try and buy our land again,” Trixalla said with a sigh.

“It’s a merchant’s duty to always try and haggle. Don’t hate them too much for simply doing their job. Human nature is just as ingrained as ours,” I said.

Mork sighed, nodding his head in agreement. “And they forget things so quickly. It’s a good thing they’re so willing to abide by the written contracts,” he said.

“Some do,” I agreed.

“We hear the church is also vying for land ownership in Bordu. Just as in Ruvindale recently,” Trixalla said.

“Ruvindale’s church has long since been built. Has been for many years,” I said.

The two snakes startled a little at this information, and I watched as the old woman glanced at her husband. He too looked at her, even though I knew he couldn’t actually see her.

He saw nothing anymore.

“Which means any day so too will Bordu be owned by the church,” she whispered.

“It will be. But you’re talking many decades hence. No point worrying over it now,” I said.

The two sighed lightly, and I noted the small hissing sound within the sighs.

“Merchants I can deal with, but the church…” Trixalla said, shaking her head.

“In a certain perspectives, they’re merchants too. They just sell belief and promises,” I said.

“And lies,” Mork added quickly.

I shrugged, uncaring if what they sold were lies or not. Sword and fire didn’t care if you spoke the truth or lied as they took your life.

“Tell us of our new member, as well,” Trixalla said, and I knew it was to change the topic of conversation. She didn’t want her husband growing heated in his old age.

“What more needs to be said of Lomi?” I asked her.

She sighed, shaking her head. “The cat,” Mork said for her.

“Ah. Yes. A large cat. Not sure exactly which, but definitely a forest cat. A true predator,” I said with a nod.

“So rare. Why did you not bring her?” Trixalla asked.

“She wished to stay there,” I said plainly.

Were they going to grow angry with me as Lilly had? Upset I’d risk our weaker members, or angry that I didn’t enlist her elsewhere where she was more needed?

“Poor Shelldon. He must be trembling something fierce,” Mork said with a chuckle.

“Ah, I heard his shell rattling all night long,” I said, remembering the sound.

Mork’s chuckling turned into a small laugh as his wife shook her head, upset he’d find it so humorous.

“Was she old?” Trixalla asked.

“Older than most, but still young. Probably around her second century,” I said. At least, that was what I had assumed based off my conversations with her.

“Ah, how quaint. For one like her to survive so long… had she been with a pack or something like it?” Mork asked.

“As far as I’m aware, no. She had a family, but they perished or separated early. She’s… lived amongst humans mostly, believe it or not,” I said.

“That would explain it. I’ve always thought that our survival could be further enshrined if we were to somehow manage the task of growing our young amongst humans,” Trixalla said.

“Impossible,” Mork said plainly.

“For one blind as you, maybe,” his wife snidely said.

“Blind yet still I can see what you can’t, as always!” he retorted.

Was it impossible though?

I kept my mouth shut as the two went to arguing with one another. Typical married banter, that even though I enjoyed listening to… still found myself drowning out.

Trixalla has been mentioning such ideas for many years now. I’ve never discounted or ignored them, but honestly until recently I hadn’t thought it possible either.

But why wasn’t it?

Humans, just like us, all had their own beliefs and morals… It was already proven, by the many humans our kind live with and even mate with, that it was possible.

The question was not if it was possible, but if it was possible on a grand scale.

A handful of humans could work… but could a whole city?

What if all of Bordu knew of them?

All it would take is a few to rile up and incite a crowd. Even if a majority of the city found themselves unafraid, nor bothered, it’d only take a few dozen to burn down these fields… and the houses… and everyone who lived within them.

“You’re just old!” Trixalla said to him loudly, as I returned to paying attention to their squabble.

“And you’re still beautiful! But I don’t say stuff like that out loud!” he shouted back.

I smiled as I watched the old snake hesitate in her next rebuttal, and even grew a little red in the face.

“She’ll either adapt and become a true member or I’ll find her gone when I return there,” I said, returning to the real topic at hand.

“Or dead,” Mork added, always unwilling to let the unsaid words be left alone.

“Or dead,” I nodded in agreement.

“Still, it’s so rare to find predators anymore. Who was the last?” Trixalla asked.

“The last that is still alive as far as I know…?” I thought for a moment, as I went through my memories.

The shark was dead. So was that young bear cub. Before them was…

“Vim…”

I blinked as I found the two old snakes staring at me. Even Mork, with his white eyes was looking at me as if I was pitiful.

“What?” I asked them.

“You should have brought her along. To protect her,” Mork whispered.

About to argue with him, the door opened. Not the door to the living room, but the house.

The two snakes glanced at the intruder, but I ignored the squirrel as he entered.

“Master Mork! I apologize for being late!” Montclair happily entered with a huge proud smile on his face.

“Nonsense, Montclair. Come, sit, join us,” Mork said calmly.

The squirrel quickly shook his head, as if the very idea was abhorrent to him. “Nonsense! I must go prepare dinner! Yes! Quickly!” Montclair quickly went to gathering up the few scraps and plates before us. Things that had been sitting there for hours.

Things that had been there since before I had even sat down with the snakes.

As he gathered up the cups and plates, I sighed and watched the short man glare at me with a smile. As if daring me to say that he wasn’t properly tending his masters.

“How’ve you been Montclair?” I asked him.

He perked up, his cheeks becoming rounder as his smile grew. “Wonderful! As you can see my masters are smiling, so what more could I ask for?” he said quickly.

I shook my head at his strange joy, ignoring his happy smirk as he hurried out of the room. He began to mumble a happy tune as he went to preparing food.

“By now you’d think Vim would be used to him,” Trixalla said.

“By now you’d think Vim would have killed him,” Mork said.

“You kept him around as emergency food, but I swear he’s getting skinnier each year. At least keep him well-fed,” I said.

The two chuckled as I sat back, listening to the sounds of drawers being opened, and plates clattering.

He was going to prepare a feast, as always.

It was hard to hate him, honestly.

After all, there was no ill intent in his dedication to these two. It was pure, simple, and unequivocal love and devotion that he had for them.

Yet, maybe because of who I was, I couldn’t comprehend his strange studious desire to be something of a servant.

Why not just be a friend? Or a comrade?

Though, it wasn’t as if the snakes actually treated him like a slave or servant.

“You cannot force a predator to do anything. You two of all people should understand that,” I said to them, returning to the main topic… again.

After all, wasn’t that the entire reason this place existed?

Wasn’t that why they grew wheat for a city that no longer housed their old friend? Even though I’ve asked them to return south?

“I suppose we have to accept that,” Mork said.

“We do don’t we dear? It’d be right slimy of us to say otherwise,” Trixalla said.

“Yes it would. So as fellow predators, grant her your blessing and stop complaining about it,” I said.

“We weren’t complaining were we?” she asked.

“Impossible,” he said.

“True, such proud snakes would never complain, after all,” I said with a nod.

“Hm, indeed,” Trixalla said with a sigh.

“Indeed so,” Mork agreed.

“Rightly so,” I agreed as well.

“Right!” Montclair shouted from the kitchen.