“Tristan?” the fused crab called, looking around for the man who was suddenly gone from his side.

  “Holy shmokes!” the disheveled man said, standing in front of a shelf, gawking at it with a dumb expression on his face.

  “Great, that s up didn’t st long,” Balthazar muttered. “Back to being a drunken fool, it seems.”

  “Babaurhum!” the drunkard mumbled.

  “What?” the annoyed crab said. “You’re slurring your words again.”

  “No, no. Thish!” Tristan excimed, pointing a wobbly fi an old dark bottle on the shelf. “It’sh a bottle of Babaurhum rum! How didsh you get thish?!”

  “Oh, that,” said Balthazar. “It was some wandering woman who sold it to me. She sold me aoo, but that’s a whole other story. She said it was some special rum from… wherever.”

  “Babaurhum!” the man joyfully repeated.

  “Yes, that pce.”

  “They shay it’sh the mosht shweet of arsh,” Tristan said, his eyes shining as he gazed at the dark bottle with wonder. “I had heard about it, alwaysh wao try it one day, but it’sh imposshible to find thish far away from the deshert.”

  With a quick turn, the drunken man faced Balthazar with both hands together in a pleading manner ao his knees.

  “Pleash! You musht let me have a tashte of it. Even jusht a drop would bring me shush joy. I beg of you!”

  The golden crab looked down at the disgraced mert with awkward disfort. While he cared little for most humans, the sorry state of Tristan was too much of a low, even for Balthazar’s disdain. He had no iion of enabling the drunkard any further.

  However, while feeding into his addi was too unscrupulous even for the crab, benevolent subterfuge was not.

  “Alright, stand up, you’re making it too awkward now,” Balthazar told him. “Besides, I don’t like you being at eye level with me. Your breath stinks.”

  “Oh, thank you, thank you!” the overjoyed drunkard said, a goofy smile on his face. “Sho you’ll let me have it?”

  “What? Just like that?” said the crab. “Of course not! I thought you used to be a mert, too. I’m running a business here!”

  “But shir,” the man said, his smile instantly ging into a g pout and watery eyes, “I have no money. I am a ruined man. I ot afford it.”

  “Yes, yes, I heard your story. And that’s exactly it. If you want to get back at Antoine, you’ll help me, and if you do a good enough job, I’ll let you have some of that rum.”

  “Help you? What do you got to do with Antoihe other said, his g faow turning into a puzzled expression. The speed at which he ged emotions was baffling to Balthazar.

  “I got my own chitin to pick with him. He’s trying to disrupt my success, not too unlike what he did to you in the past. I don’t intend oing that happen. So, are you ied?”

  “Hmm, I shee. The enemy of my enemy ish a crab,” Tristan said, rubbing his while precariously tilting bad forth on his heels. “If it meansh taking a shwing at that two-fashed traitor, all while alsho getting a tashte of delicioush Babaurhum, t me in!”

  “Excellent!” excimed Balthazar. “Unfortunately, you’re also a drunk, so you’ll excuse me for not putting too much faith into your trustworthiness just yet.”

  “Fair, fair,” the drunkard agreed, his eyes closed as he rocked himself from side to side.

  “So, for now, I’m going to give you a very simple task. If you mao do this for me, maybe we work together. You paying attention there, Tristan?”

  “Huh? Oh, yesh, I’m all earsh!” the man said, pulling his eyes away from a fluttering butterfly passing above them.

  “I need you to go back up to town…”

  “Wait! We’re not in town?!” Tristan asked, looking all around with a fused expression. “How in the world did I end up here?”

  “Focus, Tristan!” Balthazar yelled. “Go back up there, find and vihe best carpenter in town to e down here and do some work for me. Maybe sober up a little, so they’ll take you seriously. Do this for me and you have a sip of the rum, as well as more important tasks. Got that?”

  “Yesh, shir!” the drunk said, making a mog salute with his hand that went a little higher than his forehead. “But… what doesh a carpenter have to do with Antoine?”

  “Nothing. I just need one for something else, but I ’t really go into town myself, so that’s where you e in. Do this right, and I might start believing you’re more than just a fumbling drunk.”

  “Ooooh, gotcha! You won’t regret it! I’ll make the mosht out of thish opportunity, you’ll shee. I shall return to you with a barber and earn that shweet ar!”

  “Carperistan! I asked for a Carpenter!”

  “Right! That’sh what I meant,” the inebriated man said. “Don’t worry, you won’t regret thish. You and I are going to bee great partnersh, I’m shure!”

  Balthazar, however, was not so sure.

  ***

  M had passed, and the crab was finishing his dessert before carrying on into the afternoon. The dessert for that day, as well as the appetizer and main dish, was raspberry jam tarts, and no matter how many times Balthazar kept telling himself the one was going to be the st, he couldn’t resist eating just one more each time.

  “Hmm, jusht sho delichioush!” he said to himself, his mouth full of tart, the outside of his mouth covered in jam.

  “Partner! I have returned!” a voice shouted from below.

  Looking down from his lunch break boulder, Balthazar saw Tristaurning from town with an older man in tow.

  “Oh, great, the addict is back,” the crab said, quickly shoving o tart into his mouth before hopping off the rod joining the arriving men.

  “There you are! Missed me?” the strangely joyful man said.

  Balthazar noticed he had at least sobered up some, as his speech was not as slurred anymore, even if he was still zigzagging wildly towards the trading post’s entrance.

  “Like I miss the birds in the sky.”

  “Ha-ha! I’m going to take that as a yes,” Tristan said. “As agreed, I have goo town and found you the best woodworker you will ever know. Meet John, the carpenter!”

  With an excessive flourish, the town drunk took a step to the side and bowed slightly as he pointed both arms towards the figure behind him.

  He was an old man with a bushy grizzly beard and a rugged face, from what little of it could be seeween his vast facial hair, thick eyebrows, and the shade of the ft cap firmly stuck to his head. He wore simple worker clothes, and if his sturdy physique, despite his age, didn’t already decre it, his calloused and scarred hands firmed him as a manual borer.

  Hanging from between his lips was a wooden smoking pipe from which a soft plume of white smoke rose as he eyed the crab, and in his left hand he brought a wooden toolbox.

  “G’day,” John said, with a husky voice.

  “Hello there,” the crab responded. “I’m Balthazar.”

  “So, you’re the talking crab,” the seasoned man said as he adjusted the smoking pipe with his hand. “Not going to lie, I thought your man here outing nonsense when he walked into my workshop g there was a crab looking for a carpenter.”

  “Oh, heh,” said Balthazar, realizing the downside of sending a drunk man to recruit someone in his name. “And you, uh, still came down here anyway, despite his… state?”

  “Ah, what I say,” the carpenter said with a chuckle, “Your fellow here strikes me as the trustworthy kind, even if he is in his cups.”

  Balthazar nodded. It would seem Tristan was really not overselling his charisma before.

  “See? Told you I would not disappoint!” the happy drunk excimed. “Now, about that rum?”

  “Ah, yes, of course,” the crab said. “I’ll just show the pce to John over here first, and then we talk about that. Wouldn’t want to leave him waiting now, would we? That’d be rude.”

  “Right, of course, you’re right,” Tristan agreed, while noddihusiastically. “Proper manners are a hallmark of any good mert, absolutely. Go on, do your business. I’ll just be waiting over here.”

  As he finished his sentehe inebriated man sat on the floor, leaning against a crate, and immediately fell asleep.

  “Well, alright then,” Balthazar said, turning his attention back to John and pointing his pio the inner side of the trading post. “Shall we get to business?”

  “Lead the way,” said the grizzly man.

  “Not sure how much Tristan told you when he came to you,” the mert said, as they both started walking.

  “Lots of things, but most of it was i mumbling, so just assume you have to expin it to me from the start. What does a crab need a carpenter for?”

  “Well, see these?” Balthazar showed his pio John. “Turns out they’re great for a lot of things, but not for handiwork. And I need a roof built over this pce before the rains begin falling. My assistant built this ptform we’re standing on, and even that footpath over there, but his amateur skills only do so much. As I’ve learhe hard way retly, a roof is no easy thing to build.”

  The carpenter nodded as he stroked his beard and looked around.

  “Right you are, fel,” the man said. “Building a roof over your here ptform would be a bit of work. More than an old man like me do all on his own. I’d need a lot of muscle.”

  “Ah, that I think I help with,” the smirking crab said. “Would a lot of stone help?”

  John looked at him with a bushy eyebrow raised high.

  “Hey, Bouldy! e here,” Balthazar called towards the inner islet.

  A rock with two eyes and a mouth peeked from behind the tree before the golem stood up and approached the other two, crossing the water with three effortless steps.

  “Friend?”

  “John, this is my friend Bouldy. And he’d be more than happy to help with all the heavy lifting. Think that would do?”

  The carpeook the pipe out of his mouth and slowly tilted his head back as he stared up at the giant boulder.

  “That’s a lot of rock,” he said, slowly nodding at the golem. “Aye, that’ll do, crab. That’ll do.”

  “Great. And for ara pair of smaller hands,” Balthazar tinued, “you’ll have Druma to assist you. Hey, Druma, where are you? e out here.”

  A pair of green ears with a wizard hat iween popped up from behind a pile of hay before the goblin walked around it, one cheek full, his face still covered i pie crumbs.

  “Boss call Druma?” he said between loud chewing, as he joihe group.

  “Yes, I did. This is John, a real carpenter. You will be helping him with anything he o build our roof, and hopefully you’ll get to learn some hings about w wood, too.”

  Druma hopped left and right while g with joy, a grin on his face, which was still covered with crumbs. “Yes, yes, boss!”

  “You don’t have a problem with w alongside a goblin, I hope?” the crab asked the man.

  “’t say I ever did work with any,” John calmly said, as he pced his smoking pipe ba his lip, “but the little fel seems amicable enough. I ain’t got a problem with no one who ain’t got a problem with me.”

  “Excellent!” Balthazar said. “So, does that mean you’ll take the job?”

  The old carpeuro face the ptform, thoughtfully measuring up the pce as small puffs of smoke floated away from his pipe.

  “It would take a few weeks, even with your helpers,” he finally said. “And I’d be spendin’ my whole day all the way out here, but hell, it ain’t like there’s anybody home missin’ me. Besides, I’ll get to say I was hired by a crab once, and worked alongside a golem and a goblin. That’ll make for a hell of a tale. I’ll take the job.”

  “Good, good!” the enthusiastic crab said. “Let’s discuss payment and…”

  The veteran raised a hand in a haltiure.

  “Before we talk about pay, I’m gonna need me some supplies from town for the job.”

  “I thought you already brought your own stuff,” the mert said, pointing to the man’s toolbox.

  “These are me tools, crab. The actual supplies, like nails and many other bits and pieces, you gotta pay for yourself. It ain’t gonna be my roof o’s done.”

  “Well, we got lots of nails and other supplies arouhat you could use. Druma show—”

  “Nah, crab,” the man interrupted. “You don’t get it. I need very specific materials to do my jht, and there’s only one supplier in town I trust for quality stuff. I ain’t using none of the crap you get from those airhead adventurers. I wouldn’t sleep under something built with pieces that came from some kid who don’t know the measurements of a two-by-four.”

  Slightly annoyed, but uue the validity of his st point, Balthazar ceded to the old man. “Fine. I guess I send Tristan back to town to get your supplies.”

  “It’s your call,” John said as he pulled a pencil and a piece of paper from his box. “I’ll make a list of what I need.”

  The crab walked back to where the other man was still asleep, a dribble of drool hanging from the er of his mouth.

  “Hey, big charmer, wake up!” Balthazar yelled, while snapping his pincers in front of the drunk.

  Startled, Tristan opened his eyes and looked around with fusion.

  “Huh? What? Where am I? What happened? I have that sip of rum now?”

  “Uh…” the golden mert started. “You don’t remember? You already had a gss of it. It must have been really strong. You fell asleep right after.”

  “Gods damn it!” the drunk said, spping the floor with his palm. “The worst part of getting drunk is fetting the good parts of getting drunk.”

  “Yes, real tragedy. Now get up, I got another job for you. Do it right and there might be aaste of that rum in it for you.”

  Tristan’s gaze snapped up to the crab, his eyes with a child-like glow to them.

  While some might sider it disho, Balthazar preferred to see his as as a good deed, in order to keep a drunk from drinking himself into an even deeper stupor. The fact that what he was doing would allow him to keep paying with the same never-ending bottle was just a nice bonus.

  H0st