Chapter 5: Golem Anatomy

A huge foundation had already been laid, and the outer brick walls had risen nearly to the height of a full first floor.

The foreman, an enormous man with a weaselly face, took Durri's presence in stride.

"Move that there pile of bricks to this here pile of bricks. Sort out the broken ones, then help erect the western wall. Pay's six shillings a day. Mayor's not paying you to take breaks, and there's a barrel of water over there if you get thirsty."

He scanned Durri with a critical eye. “You look like a strong’un, but afraid I can’t pay you more than for a single man. Budget’s budget.”

'Ah,' Durri thought, 'we're building a new mansion for the town mayor!'

The pay was not very good. He usually earned eight shillings for a day's work back home.

'If only that witch had paid me the fifteen shillings she promised me for adding a porch to that decrepit house of hers... I should've known she wouldn't have that much lying around.'

Well, even six shillings would buy a big meal and a night in a small inn room, assuming prices were like those in his hometown. He wouldn't have more than a few pennies left over afterward, but—

"Wait a minute," he said out loud. "I don't feel hungry at all, come to think of it."

Bombo gave him a strange look. "Good for you, buddy." He hoisted a bag of cement mix and walked toward the house.

Frowning, Durri moved to the huge water barrel. There was a tin cup tied to it with a piece of rope, and he dipped this into the water and took a drink.

"Oh, my! What an odd sensation!"

The water absorbed into his clay body on contact. The cracks on his exposed arms grew slightly less prominent.

"Probably not a bad idea to drink some more." He dipped cup after cup of water into his mouth, rehydrating his body. He felt satiated, as though he had just eaten a big meal.

When he took a step away, Durri heard a sloshing noise from inside him. "Interesting. The water gathered in some sort of reservoir in my chest. I wonder if it's possible to—"

Just as the thought came to him, the tip of Durri's right index finger pivoted upward, as though on a hinge, and a stream of water shot out!

"Oh!" His fingertip immediately pivoted back into place, and Durri stared at his hand in surprise. "I'd thought perhaps I was solid clay all the way through, but it seems there's some kind of structure to my insides. Well, now I know I can store potion water and reclaim it later!"

Yet, Durri felt a troubled realization alongside this discovery.

He had not properly 'drunk' the water. He had no throat or esophagus, it seemed, only a pouch at the back of his mouth.

Combined with his lack of appetite, did that mean he was not intended to eat food?

That had a practical benefit, of course, but...

"I guess no big steak dinners after a long day of work," Durri said with a sigh. "Based on how foul that water was, it seems I can still taste things, but it'd be a waste to just chew food and then spit it out! Not to mention disgusting."

Durri realized he had stood around uselessly for too long.

He got to work moving bricks from a supply pile to a smaller one near the house.

"This new strength really is incredible!" he marveled.

Durri could carry four times as many bricks now as he could with his original human body. The work passed quickly, and Durri soon joined the rest of the men in laying bricks for the outer walls.

Hours passed, and the walls rose higher. The other men on the crew were friendly enough, even if all they wanted to talk about was what kind of lizard man Durri might be.

He stopped trying to be coy about his true form after a while. "No, I'm not a lizard man!" he said. "Please, can we stop talking about lizards?"

"Nah," said a fellow with a very flat face. "You're just shy on account of you lay eggs and shed your skin. My sister told me about some big old lizards from the south seas who have two heads. Are there any lizard men with two heads like that?"

By the end of the day, Durri was exasperated. "Starting to wish I actually 'was' a lizard man," he grumbled. "Then at least I'd have answers to these stupid questions."

The men lined up under the light of the setting sun. The foreman walked down the line and handed each man his pay, giving a grunt and a nod in way of thanks for a job well done.

Durri took his shillings and kept them in his fist, not having pants or a belt to keep them in.

After passing these out, though, the foreman looked apologetic. "So, erm. Bad news, boys."

The men muttered among one another.

"The mayor has decided... well..." The foreman scratched his neck. "He found a goblin crew who'll work for... fish. Barrels and barrels of rotten fish, apparently. Got the message an hour ago. He's having them continue the work now that the outer walls are... done."

One man hurled his trowel to the ground. "Now that we did the most important parts, you mean!"

The foreman lifted his hands in protest. "Hey, I'm getting replaced by a couple goblins in a trench coat calling themselves, and I quote, 'John Von Projectmanager.' Don't take this out on me."

Bombo pulled a stale bread roll from his pocket, looking at it forlornly. "I was gonna buy everyone drinks tonight. If I do that, I'll have no money to eat with for the rest of the week. Can't live that long on just a bit of bread."

Seeing the bread made something tingle in Durri's head.

'Hmm, I wonder if that means bread is a potion ingredient,' he thought.

Durri visualized the Codex in his mind, flipping through its imaginary pages until he found the entry for bread.

He felt a grin spread across his face.

"Hey Bombo," he said. "Give me that roll and I'll buy drinks tonight."

The man narrowed his eyes suspiciously. "Wait, what? This isn't a joke, is it?"

Durri put a hand to his chest. "No jokes. I'm serious."

Bombo tossed Durri the roll, which smacked wetly into his clay hand.

Durri moved to the water barrel and dropped the roll in, ignoring the men staring at him in confusion.

Then he stooped, retrieved the barrel lid resting nearby, and closed up the whole barrel.

Durri grunted as he raised the barrel high above his head. Water was far heavier than it looked!

"By Anaximander's beard!" he roared, and shook the barrel for all it was worth.

Then he slammed down the barrel and ripped it open again as thin beams of light shot out from the seams.

"Come one, come all! I didn't mention I was a master alchemist, did I? You can only do so much with sub-par ingredients, but you lot look like you could use a good round of getting drunk, and this stuff'll certainly do the trick!"

***

A few hours later, Durri regretted turning the bread and water into strong ale.

The men had drunk deeply from the barrel, toasting Durri and his brilliant alchemical skills. Having empty stomachs and having finished a long day of hard work, it took them hardly any time to get drunk.

Durri "swallowed" a few mouthfuls, but it was all just absorbed into his body. He felt not a hint of a buzz.

Soon, the talk turned from Durri's beer to the mayor's stinginess. Bombo was the angriest of them all. He turned out to be something of an orator while drunk.

"Will we stand here and let goblins in trench coats take our jobs?" he asked. "No! Goblins may be brilliant interior builders, but everyone knows they can't lay a foundation for anything! You try laying a flat surface when you're drunk off rotten fish!"

Bombo paused for a moment to guzzle down more beer and to let out a tremendous belch.

"If it weren't for us, they'd never even have the chance to take our jobs!"

The men cheered, but Durri shifted uncomfortably on his feet. He didn't like the tone the gathering was reaching.

"Well," he said, "that's really too bad, but let's all get some dinner and brainstorm some business ideas for tomorrow. I was thinking of starting an alchemy shop, you see—"

"I say we enforce a little job security!" Bombo roared, cutting him off. "Let's see if the mayor still wants those green-ears to build his house when they have to start from the ground up!"

Everyone but Durri seemed to consider this a reasonable plan of action.

They seized their tools and, within a quarter hour, undid far more than a single day's work.

Durri stood by, chewing his lip. "It's a nice little town," he said to himself.

One man had obtained some source of fire, and he threw it onto a nearby stack of wooden planks.

"A nice town," Durri repeated, "but I think it's time I hit the road."

He turned and sprinted into the darkening night just as the cops arrived on the scene and began wrestling with sweaty men full of strong beer and self-righteousness.