While all this was going on, Tizzy hovered around their staging area smoking his pipe. The demon was completely, abundantly — obviously, naked so he wasn’t sure where the demon was storing his extra tobacco. He saw nothing that looked like a tobacco pouch. Nor for that matter did he see any way for the demon to store his pipe when not in use. However, there were a great many times when the demon didn’t have his pipe in hand. Where was it going in the meantime? The only answer he came up with was prurient and juvenile, and if it was correct, the thought of the demon putting it in his mouth made him nauseous. Edwyrd just shook his head at his own thoughts.
In addition to the supplies, Jenn also insisted they purchase a small donkey to carry things, her argument being that they would be able to move faster if none of them were loaded down with large packs. They didn’t have enough to weigh the donkey down, so it should be able to move at a reasonable pace. Naturally, the donkey didn’t like Tizzy, and neither Rupert nor Edwyrd got close enough to it to determine how friendly it felt towards them. Thus it was that Jenn led donkey at the head of their procession. Gastropé walked along beside, Maelen followed the donkey, then Tizzy and finally Rupert and Edwyrd.
They started out with about three hours to go until sunset. While it might have made sense to stay in town and start out the next morning, they had no money left for a room. Thus Gastropé argued reasonably that they start out then and just camp. It only took Edwyrd about an hour and half of walking to figure out what was wrong with their entire plan.
Edwyrd’s squishy little body was not made for endurance. Unlike a demon body, Edwyrd’s got tired. While he remembered going for long walks in the past, as Tom on Earth, he hadn’t done so for a while and his legs would probably have been out of shape anyway. Edwyrd’s body on the other hand, had never walked that long. If he thought about it, Edwyrd was less than a week old. No wonder he got sore so fast. If only Edwyrd had the endurance of Tom, or rather demon Tom. As a demon he’d flown for nearly a day without stopping. That was endurance. If he intended to keep using this body, he’d certainly have to make some improvements.
“You know,” he said quietly to Rupert, “I really like flying better. This walking thing is not all it’s made out to be.”
Rupert smiled up at him. “I’ll take your word, for now. I can’t wait to try. You’ll show me how? Soon?”
Edwyrd smiled back. “Sure. As soon as we can get a chance to safely switch back.” That really sounded like fun to Edwyrd. For one thing, the idea of changing back was extremely attractive, and the second was that having someone to fly around with here in Astlan also seemed nice.
As they were whispering, Tizzy’s demonic hearing apparently heard their whispers, he rotated in mid-air. The octopodal demon kept flying in the same direction, only backward now. Edwyrd wondered how the demon did that. He didn’t think it was aerodynamically feasible, but Tizzy was doing it anyway. It probably helped to be crazy and not know that what you were doing was impossible. “Don’t forget me. I want to go out and cruise around some more as well. And I know a thing or two about the finer points of flying.” Tizzy whispered conspiratorially. Apparently true, Edwyrd thought as watched the backward flying demon.
The night air near the docks was a lot noisier than Fiernon would have thought it should be. Apparently, the people of Hoggensforth were moral turpitudenalists of the lowest form, performing who knew what sort of vile and depraved acts of debauchery under the cover of darkness. Docks and the regions surrounding them were renowned in general as being dens of illicit moral and criminal iniquity. Fiernon was not surprised therefore, as he rounded the last building between him and the docks, that this one should be no different. He had hoped for quieter surroundings in which to exact justice upon the seagoing serfs of sin led by the perfidious Asmeth, but he’d have to do what he could. Justice must be served whenever the opportunity was available.
The people on the streets paid him no heed, as well they should not. Fiernon had cloaked himself in a government approved invisibility spell for the purpose of executing judicial removal of maleficious perpetrators. As with the Questioner or the Executioner at a sentencing, his identity was concealed to prevent anyone from confusing the higher ideal of justice as an abstract concept that always prevailed, with the actions of any single individual. As Fiernon moved invisibly down towards the dock with Asmeth’s ship on it, he began to realize that most of the noise on the docks seemed to be coming from the region of Asmeth’s ship.
