"Kren" Part Fourteen: The Next Bit of Business

 

Out in the silent streets of the village, the nearly full moon in the cloudless sky had bleached out all but the strongest stars and turned the night into a patchwork of silver and shadow. Kren and Koppa walked wordlessly past dark houses, the youth now and then cutting his eyes over at the striding Morg to gather which way they were going to turn. The only sound was an occasional cricket’s chirping that would stop abruptly as they moved quietly by.

Eventually they came to the edge of town and the squat darkness that was Kren’s house. He stepped forward to undo the bolt, then threw the door open wide. It gaped like a portal from night into night. Kren moved back and with an exaggerated, almost mocking wave, gestured for Koppa to step in. With a small but equally sardonic bow, the man walked fearlessly over the yawning threshold. Kren followed and shut the door behind him.

Koppa stood silently while Kren cracked a shutter and by the streaming light of the moon kindled a couple of candles using the banked fire of the stove. As the light slowly grew, the man looked around the house with interest. When Kren was done the Morg finally turned and cocked an eyebrow at him. It was seldom he had anyone inside, let alone a complete stranger. He waved vaguely with one paw.

“Well,” he grunted. “Welcome to my house, I guess.”

“Thank you, Mr. Kren.” Koppa bowed slightly. “You’re a carpenter, I see. Thanks for bringing me in.” He paused, eyes challenging. “Tell me. Why do you trust me?”

Kren shrugged.

“Not exactly sure I do. But you tell an interesting tale. Besides, what’s a night?”

Koppa’s face was wry.

“Your friends might look askance at you for sheltering a dangerous fellow like me.”

The Morg barked a short laugh, beard wagging with the force of it.

“They look askance at me now. Now tell me your whole tale. I’m very interested in Morg City.” He pointed invitingly to his own deep chair next to the fireplace. “Have a seat.” He pulled a wooden chair out from under the workbench and swung it over to the dark hearth. He hesitated before sitting.

“Do you want something to drink? I’m afraid I’ve only got water.”

“Thank you. Perhaps later.” Koppa sat, spreading his cloak behind him with a grateful flourish, settling back. He sighed rather theatrically to indicate his comfort. He paused, steepled his fingertips together, and pointed at the Morg. “Now, what exactly do you want to know, Mr. Kren?”