Chapter 53. Sold

e wished he did not need a master, particularly this one.  On his own, Tyhric was regarded as a monster.  He had strayed away from the annoying ranger twice since their meeting only to be met with angry city guards or fortune hunting adventurers.  Life was easier with Terrel;   Tyrhic was simply the canine equivalent of a very large and furry bouncer.  Crowds parted for them -- a fact which had only recently occurred to the ranger and he was currently enjoying a little too much.

Tyhric rolled his eyes.  He could have chosen a better ranger.  Terrel was a reflection of his desperation.  His voyage across the open sea had been terrifying and, despite his great size and strength, the five sailors had tried ganging up on him several times.  As for the hounds, they had followed for nearly a day, leaving him alone when the gray escarpments of the city had finally peered through the mist.

He was afraid to touch the sea and had waited patiently until the little boat was moored before bounding onto dry land.  Now he cursed himself for picking a drunk.  But at that time of night in a strange and enormous foreign city, finding a ranger so close to the docks had seemed a perfect opportunity and a blessing.

Tyrhic could not take much more of his current plight.  That afternoon he had caught the scent of something extremely alluring and the next moment his head had gone down to savor the bouquet of a vile lump of filth on the cobbles.  He was hungry all the time now and beginning to care less and less about what he ate.  And things that moved quickly across his line of sight were invitations to chase.  Small children darting ahead of him evoked some horrible primal desire to pounce.

In short, he was scared of what he was becoming.  Soon he would truly become Terrel’s mutt, and the man who had been Tyhric would be gone from memory and dead.  What could he do?  Tyhric had always assumed rangers had some mystical bond with animals.  Terrel’s idea of a bond consisted of tossing him stale rice cakes and offering him a bowl of rice wine so he could see if dogs got drunk.  The man was a slob, and if he did not need him so badly, he would have turned on him and tried to scare some sense into him.

Unable to speak, all he could do was growl or groan, or bark stupidly when he became frustrated.  He sighed, panting anxiously as he slinked in Terrel’s lean shadow.  The ranger sauntered boldly down a dingy alley and chuckled as Am Fah leaped into view then walked distractedly past him, giving Tyhric wide berth.  At the end of the alley Terrel slapped Tyhric’s flank companionably and opened a jug of rice wine to take a long drink.  He stretched out lazily along the railing of a gazebo, already well on his way to being plastered.

Tyhric decided to take desperate measures.  Any normal rangers would have recognized him for what he was, or at the very least, sensed he was no ordinary animal.  With an enormous paw, he scratched carefully at a patch of dirt, annoyed that he could barely see what he was doing.  Eventually he had a fairly convincing rendering of the letter ‘B’ cut into the dirt.  Sitting back on his haunches, he barked loudly until Terrel smacked him on the side of the head with a half-eaten bun.  It was so frustrating! And yet he snapped his jaws, effortlessly catching the offering and wolfing it down quickly.  The foolish ranger took another long pull from the jug and stared off across the square.  Great, he was ogling women.

Or perhaps comparing her pet to his own.  Another ranger, a petite figure with long golden hair, walked through Wajjun Bazaar with a retinue of servants and friends.  An unnaturally large lynx skulked some paces behind her attempting to stay hidden.  She was pregnant and a young boy cleaved to her side.

He was not getting anywhere with Terrel, maybe his chances would improve with this woman.  Head down in an attitude of submission, he started toward them, brought up short by a long howling hiss.  Though he dwarfed the creature, the lynx had placed itself between its mistress and him.  There was a look of such rage and hatefulness upon the creature’s snarling face that he quailed and backed away.

“Geetha?  Where have you been?” the woman called out, turning at the sound of her spitting animal.  When her eyes fell upon Tyhric, however, she let out a small scream and stood protectively before her frightened son.  Her retinue drew weapons and three of the women drew wands or chanted incantations to mark them for casters.  He backed away.

“Mama, it’s a man,” the boy cried, and despite his fear that he was about to become roasted dog lightly filleted by angry lynx, he felt a surge of relief.  Someone had finally seen him for what he truly was.  Now if he could avoid being attacked, he might be able to convince them to help him.  Terrel strode forward with a sneer of contempt.

“C’mon, you stupid mutt, you’re frightening these beautiful ladies.”

“Is that dog truly yours?” asked the taller of the three women.  Her black hair was bound up in elaborate braids and a fiery diadem rode upon her brow.  Tyhric vigorously shook his head.

“Of course,” Terrel boasted, “I tamed him last night.”

“Really?” the woman asked, arching a narrow brow, “So enormous demonic wolves just roam the city at random ready to be tamed?”

Terrel shrugged.

“Guess so.  I just lucked out.”

“Mama,” the boy said, almost desperate this time, “He wants to see Master Bei.”

The ranger woman blanched now and Tyhric had the distinct impression from the looks of horror on their faces that they must have encountered Ashekoroth’s hounds.

“How much do you want for that dog?” the elementalist demanded.  Tyhric yiped in horror as Terrel dropped a loop of cord around his heavy neck and drew it tight.

“Yours for a song, Milady,” Terrel oozed.

“And what is the going rate of a song in Cantha?” the woman grumbled with a sigh.

“A mere two thousand coins.”

Tyhric rolled his eyes, watching as Terrel calculated how much rice wine and cakes that would buy him.  The woman fished reluctantly inside a belt pouch and drew out two silvery bars.  Terrel licked his lips and looked on greedily, trading the end of the rope for the metal.  Tyhric sighed in relief, then cried out in horror as the elementalist swiftly wrapped his muzzle with the cord and secured it behind his ears.

“You’ll get to see Bei, alright, you filthy spawn of a demon,” the woman growled, “I’ll see to it personally.”