Start he did, laying out in plodding detail his evening af ter their late supper (hard cheese and bread eaten in their current quarters: an upper-room flat with a communal well in the atrium, a communal privy, too). A short walking tour to collect debts and seek orders, then an evening at the ’Unicorn, watching the lowlifes in their natural habitat. Heliz noted that Lumm apparently spent a lot of time watching two of the staff, the Minxes (Big and Little), because their actions wove through the commentary regularly, right up to the point where the floor opened up beneath the smaller, fox-faced one and plunged her into hell.
“And then what?” said the linguist.
“And then everyone left,” said Lumm. “I mean mostly everyone. Some of the staff stayed, and me, and few of the curious. But most cut and ran. You don’t smell brimstone and hang about. Some left quickly, and some left slowly, but most just left and haven’t come back. There were attempts to pound on the floor looking for a hollow spot. There are tunnels everywhere else, it seems, but where Little Minx disappeared, the floorboards rest on solider-than-solid rock. And some of the staff was afraid, and I spent the night …” His face reddened again.
“Consoling,” finished Heliz. Lumm nodded, and a moment of silence passed between the two. Finally the linguist said, “So?”
“So, what?” said the cooper.
“Exactly,” said Heliz. “So what? Why does this pyrotechnic disappearance have anything to do with me and my life, penurious as it seems?”
“Well, people are saying it’s very strange.”
Heliz snorted. “Strange? This rattletrap of a town occupies the corner of Odd and Weird. I don’t doubt that it already has half a foot in four separate dimensions, so a mere flaming chasm opening shouldn’t surprise anyone.”
Lumm regrouped, “Well, there’s an idea that it was because of a curse.”
“Curses are three-a-padpol here,” said Heliz, his mind wandering. He felt the weight of the bronze tablet again over his heart, the tablet set with lines of five languages, two of which he had never seen before, all threatening dire curses on the one who violated the tablet’s sanctity. He could take a rubbing of the tablet, of course, but it seemed a pity to have to give it back to the young man who asked for the translation.
“No,” said Lumm. “It was because of her curse. I mean, her cursing. She was cursing like the devil’s dam right before, and suddenly the- ground opens up beneath her.”
Heliz looked hard at the cooper. “And you think it’s because of her cursing that she disappeared?”
“Not me,” said the big man. “But others are talking, and when they talked, the idea sort of evolved, if there are powerful words …”
“And there are,” said Heliz.
“Then there’s a chance that someone might stumble onto them, and … you know, work a spell.”
Heliz looked out across the marketplace, then took a deep breath. “That,” he said, “is the stupidest thing I have ever heard.”
“Hold on,” said Lumm. “You work with words. I mean, those type of words. You know what I mean. And I’ve seen what you do with them.”
“Do you think that’s it?” said Heliz. “That if you utter a few choice phrases, suddenly you’re a magician? The words of power, the words the gods used to build the world, are slippery things. The human mind isn’t made for them. Indeed, you can look right at one without seeing it, you can hear it spoken and not remember it a moment later, because your mind doesn’t want to recognize it. Words of power aren’t something that a cursing doxie would suddenly stumble upon in mid-tirade. And even if she did, without recognizing what they were, without some base understanding, she couldn’t work an effect that large. That is stupid beyond belief. Even for the crowd at the ’Unicorn.”
“That’s what I thought,” said Lumm, “I didn’t say anything at the time, because I could be wrong, but that’s what I thought. What you just said.”
“Were that true, a combination of common words, the most common words usually uttered in this town, would cause such damage,” continued Heliz, shaking his head, “that the entire Maze would be filled with fiery chasms, and every bar and tavern from here to the docks would be in flames. Who would be dull enough to put forward such an idea?”
“There was this Irrune warrior that told me,” said Lumm. “Ravadar, his name was.”
“I wonder who told him,” muttered Heliz. The linguist shook his head and took a deep breath. “No. No. You have an odd occurrence. You have a bizarre theory that I have now thoroughly debunked. Why is this still my problem?”
Lumm was quiet for a moment, such that to someone other than Heliz, he would look deep in thought. At last he said, “I thought you would be curious.”
“Curious, yes!” said Heliz, now packing up his pens, stylus, inks, and tablet. There would be no more writing this day. “Curious enough to get involved, no! The curious do not survive here, in case you haven’t noticed!”
“And I thought you’d be able to help,” said Lumm, “because you always seem to be asking the questions that no one else thinks of.”
“Flattery is not your strong suit,” said Heliz. “And you ended that bit of praise with a preposition. But your words ring true. However, regardless of my abilities in the matter, why is this your problem? And by this I mean to ask, why is it my problem?”
Lumm was quiet for a moment, and Heliz knew that now the cooper would speak the truth. “There is talk that this particular curse is one that only worked in a specific place. In the tap room of the Vulgar Unicorn.”
“And?” pried the linguist.
“Well, people are now a little wary of cursing in the ’Unicorn. You know, in case it happens again.”
“And … ?”
“No one likes to go to a bar and not be able to curse,” said Lumm.
“And once more: Why is this … ?”
“It’s my problem,” said Lumm, “because people are staying away from the ’Unicorn now. And if people stay away, they don’t spend money.”
Heliz’s eyes lit up. After the long night, understanding finally dawned like the morning thunder. “And they owe you money,” he said, simply.
Lumm the staver nodded. “They need barrels, and it’s good steady work until we have a place of our own.”
“And that Talulahs Thunder swill you quaff is gratis, I’ll bet,” said the linguist with a grin. “Part of the deal. You wouldn’t drink that swill if you had to pay for it.”
The cooper shrugged.
“So,” said Heliz, “bad things at the ‘Unicorn equals no money at the ’Unicorn equals no money for us equals me sitting here for an even longer period of time writing other people’s letters. Have I finally got that clear?”
“Clear enough,” said Lumm the staver.
“And should I make this my problem,” said Heliz, “you will forgive my remaining debt to you?”
The cooper was quiet, then said, “Half—”
“Two-thirds.”
“Done.”
“Done.” Heliz rose. “Then we should go.”
“To the ’Unicorn?” said Lumm.
“To our temporary digs first,” said Heliz. “If you want me to play a professional investigator, you should let me look the part. And you should bring something that looks like a weapon. You salvaged something sufficiently wicked from the wreckage of your old shop, am I correct?”
“A hand adze has a good, tempered blade.”
“Too small to impress,” said Heliz. “Didn’t I see a big mallet in your collection?”
“The long-handled bung hammer?” said Lumm. “It’s hardly a real weapon, heavy headed and all. It has no balance.”