Sorry Please Thank You by Charles Yu Read Free Book Online

cave. A place to hide out and heal our wounds, before setting out again in the morning.
    We take stock of our equipment before dinner. A lot of it’s pretty banged up. Byr has the whole mess laid out in front of her and Fjoork is reading off the scroll of items.
    Shield of the righteous.
    Check.
    +1 short sword.
    Check.
    +1 long sword.
    Check.
    +1 medium sword.
    Check.
    +1 medium long sword.
    Check.
    “Jesus,” someone mumbles.
    “No wonder my back hurts,” Trin says.
    “Do we really need Blade of Slashing and Blade of Slicing?” Fjoork asks. Everyone knows it’s directed at Rostejn. This is a thing with us. Too much baggage.
    Darts of Severe Pain.
    Check.
    Darts of Moderate Pain.
    Check.
    Dagger of Nothing in Particular.
    Check.
    Chain mail’s one thing, and everyone knows you can never really have enough Heal Wounds, or Elixir of Potency, but yeah, it’s getting to the point where we need to make some changes.
    Fjoork and Rostejn cook a meal together without saying a word. Afterward, we all pass around a wineskin and look up at the night sky.
    Byr says, “Have you ever wanted to be something else?”
    I want so bad to say yes. To tell them, I don’t want to be the Hero.
    “Probably a bard, I guess,” Rostejn says. “I’m told I have a good singing voice.”
    “No,” Byr says. “Not a different class. What if there were no classes? What if there were something, other than ranger or thief, paladin or mage? Something else. What if you could be anything?”
    Fjoork says, “I’d change my name to something cool. Like Vengor, or Caldor. Or Steve. I mean, why do we all have to have weird names? Does that really help our quest?”
    The fire burns down and the group drifts off to sleep.
    I watch them all snoring, Trin the loudest. She’s a single mother. Who is taking care of her kid at home? I don’t even know. I am in love with her, and I don’t even know who takes care of her kid.
    Byr wakes up and catches me staring at Trin.
    “She loves you, you know.”
    “Did she actually say that?” I ask her.
    “Yeah,” Byr says, throwing a stick into the fire. “But she thinks you’d be a shitty dad.”
    Eventually, I drift off into a restless sleep of my own. I dream the ancient dream, the immense dream of the ancients, I am looking out across the gray timeless expanse of Evermoor, having the greatest of all dreams, until just before dawn, when I wake to the sound of Rostejn relieving himself in the wooded area.

    In the morning we set out for Argoq. Fjoork, who always seems to have a sense of these things, says he knows a guy who knows an elf who says to take the long way around, steering clear of the Lake of Sensual Pleasures. The group sort of grumbles, but everyone knows they have to stay focused on the mission, relentlessly scrolling toward the right.
    We stop into a shop run by an old druid friend of Trin’s. Trin greets him with a peck on the cheek. Seeing her kiss him slays me. I need to make a small saving throw just to avoid getting dizzy.
    The druid shows off his new wares. Boots of speed, harp of discord, bag of merry diversion. The usual clatter thrown off by the steady flow of questers along the Silvan Route.
    “How much,” asks Trin, “for that Ring of Regeneration?”
    “Fifty,” the shopkeeper says, “but for you, twenty-five.”
    I fish coins out of my pouch and drop them in the keeper’s hand. He gives me the ring, which I nonchalantly pass over to Trin, trying to be cool about it.
    Byr raises her eyebrows at Fjoork, as in, hey, get a load of Grenner the Romantic over here.
    Trin refuses it. “You need this a lot more than I do,” she says.
    I take it back, pretending not to care, and notice that Byr is suppressing a smile. OMG: how have I never realized this before? Byr is in love with Trin. She can barely contain herself.
    I’m staring at Byr who is staring at Trin who is trying to pretend that this triangle of unrequited staring is not happening. Lucky for me, Rostejn breaks