Mark of the Fool
Chapter 559: Sabotage

Alex asked Lorraine to take over the counter for a while, then marched out the front door and into the crowded street flanked by Theresa. From near and far, passersby were eyeing the bakery, a mix of trepidation and disgust on their faces.

He even heard someone mutter, “—throw a pretty dress on a pig, and it’s still a pig.”

Outside, Claygon was frozen stone-still while Selina looked absolutely panicked. “Alex!” she cried. “It’s terrible!”

“What’s happening?” he asked, looking from her to Claygon “What’s—”

He paused, listening to the sounds of the city.

From down the street, he heard some sort of commotion: a man’s voice—in full distress—shouting something that wasn’t clear.

“You’d better come with me,” Theresa said, her jaw clenching and unclenching. “I might need you to hold me back.”

With that, the huntress turned and strode down the sidewalk, with Alex close behind. Brutus gave three quick barks and ran after them. Together, the fierce huntress, enormous cerberus and hulking wizard stalked the city street, people parted before them after one look at Theresa’s face.

The ruckus grew louder and the man’s words more distinct as the trio drew near. Alex cocked his ear, only catching a snippet here and there.

The voice sounded horrified.

Then angry.

“What the hell?” Alex stomped forward with Theresa and Brutus by his side, pushing through the crowd until he reached the corner. His hands balled into fists, and Theresa’s growl was nearly as deep as Brutus’.

On the street corner was a man who was doubled over, skinny, and dressed in fine garments that looked like they’d been made by a master tailor. They were by no means gaudy or ostentatious like some aristocrat’s, but clearly cost more than one or two gold, making the puke staining the front of his shirt even more obvious.

He had collapsed against a nearby bench, retching—though no vomit was being expelled—and shaking. A sheen of sweat coated his reddened face, and his breaths heaved, like he’d run for miles.

Or, like he’d been poisoned.

And yet, he still seemed to have plenty of strength to shout.

“I’ve been poisoned!” he cried. “I ate something from that new Roth bakery, and it feels like they fed me glass! My stomach hurts! Their food’s off!”

Blood boiled in Alex’s veins as he glared down at the man. More than one part of his story stank. First, the vomit stains on his shirt looked like they’d been smeared on hours or days before. Secondly, there was no vomit anywhere on the ground near him or the bench he was hanging onto for dear life; if this man was truly food poisoned by Alex’s cooking, then where was the puke that should be by the bench he was collapsed on?

And lastly—but most importantly—Alex had never seen the man before in his life. He’d never taken a single sample—from what Theresa said—entered the bakery, ordered a damn thing, or even passed in front of the place for that matter.

The man shuddered—as if in agony—then reached out imploringly to a passerby. “Don’t make the same mistake I did! Don’t go anywhere near there!”

With a growl, Theresa took a threatening step toward him.

Alex caught her by the shoulder. “Don’t do it,” he snarled, forcing himself to hold back. “Someone’s doing this on purpose, and if we start yelling or pounding on that guy, we’ll be playing right into their hands: we’ll just look like unscrupulous merchants trying to intimidate a customer that we already harmed.”

“I know,” she growled. “That’s why I want you to hold me back before I really give him something to throw up about.”

“I gotcha, and I’m having a hard time stopping myself, but we’ve got to think about this rationally. With the lousy reputation our bakery had, an incident like this on opening day could be- ”

“Alex!” a familiar voice cried from down the street.

The young wizard, the huntress, and her hound whirled toward the voice: Thundar was coming down the street, his hands balled into fists.

He looked pissed.

“Can you believe this?” he yelled, his fur bristling and his eyes bloodshot. Alex almost expected him to start scraping a hoof along the ground like a rampaging bull.

“Believe what?” Alex ran up to him, followed by Brutus and Theresa. “You mean him?” he nodded to the “food poisoned” man.

“No, not hi—Wait!” Thundar looked at the man as though he was seeing the scene, but not for the first time. “There’s another one?”

“What?” Theresa demanded. “What do you mean another one?”

Thundar gestured down the street, his arms flailing wildly. “Listen, I was coming to the grand opening with most of our Cleansing Movements class behind me. I’d convinced most of them to come try your shit, but then we ran into some woman who’s by the side of the road carrying on like she’d just swallowed spiders! She’s just a few streets away!” He threw his hands up. “She was screaming about how your bakery gave her food poisoning to everyone passing by! And people were believing her!”

The minotaur snorted two clouds of steam from his nose. “And those damned traitors from our class got scared! Talked about eating somewhere else even though they’ve seen you in class dozens of times! And a bunch of people were looking like demons were attacking again!”

Theresa suddenly caught Alex by the arm. “Hey. Don’t.”

“Don’t wha—” He paused, realising he’d taken steps toward the fraud who was trying to ruin his business. His hands were clenching and unclenching, as he trembled with rage.

The young wizard hadn’t even noticed that he’d moved.

He took a deep breath, acknowledging the rage and letting it pass over him as thoughts of McHarris came back. That dirty bag of scum would have tried something like this…but of course, McHarris wasn’t here in Generasi.

But another bag of scum was.

And Alex had a feeling he was the one who was pulling off this obvious act of sabotage.

“Govert Beerensteyn,” he whispered, naming the man from whom he’d gotten the bakery at a steal. He should have known that a bastard like him wouldn’t take being bested lying down.

“Him?” Theresa snapped. “We have to find him. If we cut the head off the snake, we can end this sabotage before it gets worse.”

“First we have to stop it,” Alex said. “Who knows how many of these actors he’s paid to be out here? And every minute they’re out, any one of them, or even more, could destroy our reputation. It could take months to recover. Maybe years, if ever. And we—”

“Alex!” Khalik’s voice called from down the road.

The prince was walking along, holding hands with Sinope, surrounded by a platoon of beautiful dryads—Najyah circled above—who were looking at the city sights with a detached curiosity. He recognized some from Patrizia DePaolo’s ball, as they drew every eye from men and women alike.

But the prince was paying no attention to those people: the look on his face was grim, and his attention was fully focused on his friends.

He spoke in whispers. “Alex, you are being sabotaged. There is a woman and a child screaming about how they were given food poisoning by your food. They are shouting it to every passerby—Oh.” He’d finally noticed the man dry-heaving by the bench, sobbing about Alex’s bakery.

“Yeaaah,” the Thameish wizard hissed. “You don’t know the half of it.”

As the dryads huddled around Theresa, Brutus and Thundar, Alex told Khalik what he’d learned from Thundar, and his theory on who was behind this disaster.

“By the sapphire sea,” the prince swore. “Some snakes don’t know that they are already dead. What shall we do?”

“Well, first of all—” Alex paused, looking at the dryads. “Wait…you all ran into someone screaming about food poisoning, and yet you came anyway?”

One of the dryads frowned. “Why would we care about what mara-vitar—I mean, humans, say? I do not trust unknown humans.” She nodded to Sinope. “I trust Sinope, my kinswoman, and her mate, who both say your cooking is delicious. And I trust you, who fought monsters in the same battlefield as we did. And you as well.” She nodded to Theresa. “The weight of your words and deeds are worth more than the mewling of strange humans.”

Alex smiled with joy at her words. He hoped to the Traveller that everyone’s reactions would be as positive if or when they found out that he was the Fool who was hiding from the Thameish priests.

“Don’t just trust us,” Theresa said. “Trust the food.”

“Yeah, come on,” Alex said. “Try it for yourselves.”

Leading his growing party back to the bakery, Alex’s mind began working on a plan. Eyes were on the group, eyes drawn by the beauty and rare appearance of the dryads.

The beginnings of an idea percolated in his mind, and he began adjusting his body language, swinging his arms, extending his stride and lifting his chest.

It was just enough to attract attention to himself, and attention was exactly what he wanted. The crowds were watching his group as they approached the bakery, and eyebrows shot up when they stopped in front of a worried Selina and Claygon.

“What’s happening?” his little sister asked. “Everyone’s been giving us dirty looks. Claygon and I’ve been trying to get people to taste the food, but no one’s interested. Is that awful man still saying we’re selling bad food?”

“Yes, but I have an idea,” Alex said.

“I could…destroy this man…” Claygon offered. “I am joking…probably.” Alex could hear the anger in the golem’s voice. It was also pouring through his link with Alex, and there was nothing he probably wanted to do more than march down the street and pound the liar into a grease smear.

“It’s going to be alright,” Alex said with more confidence than he actually felt. “For now, could you two offer Sinope’s friends some treats?”

“Hm, yes, yes, of course,” Selina said, turning to the dryads and lifting her tray. She tried to put on a friendly customer service smile. “P-please try some of our goodies, with our compliments.”

The dryads reached out, taking apple tart samples from her tray. Together, they bit down.

“Mmmm! This is incredible!” one of them cried. “It’s lovely!”

“Like blossom petals in early spring!” another shouted, her musical voice attracting eyes from up and down the street.

Alex noted how much attention the dryads were attracting from curious folk nearby. Some slowed to watch. Murmurs spread through the crowds.

A dryad looked at the rest of her tart with something resembling wrath. Alex was terrified, wondering if she hated it, but her anger was directed down the street where the fraudster was still faking his suffering. “I despise liars. Is this what this ‘great’ city has to offer? Filth and liars?”

The other dryads joined in; it seemed that the ‘trickiness’ of humans struck something in them.

Which was even better than Alex had hoped for.

“Sinope—” he turned to Khalik’s lover.

“Alex—” Sinope turned to him at the same time.

Both paused.

“You first,” Alex said.

“What is happening to you is not right, and it should be made right. Truth should drink the light of the sun while lies must be snuffed out by the canopy above like filthy fungus. My kinswomen and I will go out—like leaves on the wind—and find where these liars skulk and tell everyone the truth.”

“That was my idea too,” Alex said. “Listen, since you got here, every single eye’s been on all of you.”

“You’re all beautiful,” Theresa said.

“Yes,” Sinope agreed simply. “But what does that—Ah yes. Humans are entranced by such things.”

“Exactly. So here’s what I’ll do,” Alex said. “I’ll give each of you trays of food. Samples to offer passersby, like how Claygon and Selina are offering samples here. You can say how much you love the food: I get the feeling that people are going to pay a lot more attention to beautiful dryads, than to random humans. In return? You all eat for free today, as much as you want.”

Sinope frowned. “The honour of shedding sunlight on the truth is good enough. We don’t need to deprive you of your livelihood.”

“You won’t be denying me of my livelihood. You’ll be making my livelihood even more secure, trust me. Giving you free food is the least I can do.”

“...very well,” she said. “I will tell my kin. I have no doubt they will agree.”

“Good.” Alex rubbed his hands together. “And if we counter these liars, I bet they’ll either give up, or try even harder to get people to believe them. And if they do? We’ll be ready to spring.”

He smiled evilly. “And if we push hard enough? I get the feeling whoever hired them will poke his filthy head out from whatever rat hole he’s hiding in.”

And so the Roth Family Bakery’s counter-offensive began.