“The mimic octopus… is a noble animal.” Shibol talked as they walked through the moonlit barley field “The mimic octopus is even more noble than the Pacific striped octopus, more noble than even the blanket octopus. The mimic octopus is the most noble of all the octopi, and therefore the most noble of all creatures.”
“See, I prefer to have a wider view of the octopus.” Max clutched the parcel as he followed his master. “The octopus genus is a broad one, so I’m not sure that we can conclusively say that one of them is better than the rest.”
“You are wrong acolyte. You are very wrong. The mimic octopus is the greatest, most noble of all the octopi.”
“It’s not that I disagree with you master…” Max chose his words carefully. “It’s just that I think that we should appreciate each octopus in its own way. To get a broader, more complete picture of the fair creatures.” He scratched his chin. “For example take the Pacific coconut octopus. You know of the Pacific coconut octopus? They walk along the ocean floor on two tentacles like men. They use their other six tentacles to transport fallen coconuts to their lairs. There they use the coconut shells to build massive undersea forts complete with ramparts and a moat. In their forts, they slumber. You cannot deny that the Pacific coconut octopus is also a cool type of octopus?”
“I can and I will.” Shibol shook his head. “You are too young a member of our society, acolyte. You know nothing. You do not know the octopus. If you knew the octopus — you would know that the mimic octopus is the noblest of all the creatures. You do not know this — and therefore you know nothing at all.”
“It’s not that I’m saying that the mimic octopus isn’t great. It is — they are able to take on the form of virtually any aquatic being. They use a novel method of propulsion by shooting out a jet of water. They are the most intelligent type of octopus — able to choose it’s form based on a large number of outside factors — everything from danger, time of day, and the presence of other mimics. The mimic octopus is indisputably incredible. It’s just that I think that the Kraken Society should aim to appreciate each octopus regardless its subspecies.”
“What do you know of the aims of the Kraken Society, acolyte?”
“Not much.” Max scratched his head, and glanced at the parcel he clutched to his chest. The parcel was moving slightly. “I know we do some sort of infiltration. But I’m a bit confused about the details.”
“As you should be.” Shibol nodded. “Our glorious society runs on a the principle of ignorance. The less you know about what the society does, the more useful you are to the Kraken.”
“I’m not sure I understand…”
“Good! That’s the right attitude, acolyte. The less you understand, the more you can do for us.”
“But I’m even a bit vague about the details of our current mission.”
“The vaguer, the better.”
“But it might harm my ability to function during the mission. I mean I get the basics — sneak through the barley fields to the Johnson household. Steal their baby, and exchange it for our beastie.” Max glanced down at his squirming parcel. “But to what end? What will the beastie achieve in place of the baby?”
“None of our business, acolyte. That’s for the beastie and the Kraken to know.”
“But what about the specifics of the mission’s execution? Like what if the Johnsons wake up? What if the baby starts crying? What if the beastie doesn’t transform into the baby? What if the guards are called? What if…” Max furrowed his brow. “What if the fire guy appears?”
“Fire guy?” Shibol’s voice suddenly dropped to a whisper. “Did you say ‘fire guy’?”
“Oh, uh, one of the acolytes mentioned him at dinner.”
“I keep saying we should force the acolytes to dine in isolation. In cells.” Shibol mumbled under his breath. Then, turning to Max “and what did this ‘acolyte’ say about this ‘fire guy’?”
“Well it was just rumors really.” Max scratched his head. “A rumor about a vigilante who preys on members of our society. Apparently no one has seen him and lived, so the rumors are vague. But they say that his victims always turn up with their skin burned off as if by some highly concentrated light. That’s why they call him the ‘fire guy’. It sounded a bit terrifying to be honest. I’m scared of fire.”
“Well I have good news for you Max.” Shibol smiled. “These rumors have no substance to them. No substance at all. They arose during an incinerator accident at our smelting facility. A couple of workers crawled into the incinerator to fix a fault, without first turning on the safety. Dumbasses got burned to a crisp. Then another group of dumbasses found them, and started saying that some ‘fire guy’ did it. And the rumor spread around our society like wildfire. But it is just that — an exaggerated rumor. There is no ‘fire guy’.”
“Huh. A rumor.” Max walked silently through the barley. “But don’t you think that maybe if our society was based on openness and transparency, then such rumors wouldn’t spread?”
“Should confine all acolytes to cells.” Shibol mumbled to himself. He turned to Max. “No, what I think is that you ask too many questions young acolyte. You would do better in our Kraken Society if you spent less time asking questions, and more time focusing on the glory of the mimic octopus.”
* * *
“Put your hood on.” Shibol whispered.
“Yes master.” Max drew the pointy hood over his head.
“Remember, very quiet from now on.” Shibol mouthed to him, as he climbed over the fence surrounding the Johnson estate. “Here, let me hold the beastie.”
“Thanks.” Max passed the parcel to Shibol across the fence. He glanced at the mansion as he scaled the fence. It was completely dark — the Johnsons clearly had no idea of what was coming to them. Max dismounted on the soft grass of the Johnsons’ lawn. “Okay I can hold him again.”
“Here.” Shibol gave the parcel back to the acolyte. “Follow me.” They made their way across the huge garden. The family was clearly very wealthy — much wealthier than Max was before he joined the society. This made Max jealous. He marveled at the huge apple trees growing around them — enough fruit to make barrels of cider. They tiptoed past a stone fountain, which was turned off for some reason. Max wondered how much an estate like this would cost. How much gold was this family making? Shibol and Max tiptoed up to the wall of the house.
“How do we get in?” Max asked, looking at the imposing mansion.
“Window.” Shibol guided the acolyte’s eyes to a second story window. It was indeed open. A light breeze made the curtain flap out the window. Max wondered who opened the window. Shibol took a stoppered bottle from under his cloak. It was filled with a barely luminescent liquid. He pulled the cork out with his teeth, and drank the contents. After a few moments Shibol jumped. To Max’s surprise, his master did not fall back to the ground — instead he floated a few inches in the air. Shibol smiled. “Good. Now hand me the beastie.”
“Here.” Max gave the parcel to his floating master.
“Okay, I’m going to float up and exchange him for the Johnson baby. Keep guard. If you see anything unusual — you see any ‘fire guys’ — then hoot like an owl. I’ll be back in a five minutes.”
“Yes master.” Shibol slowly rose into the air. “Wait!” Max blurted out.
“What is it? Quiet.”
“Can I…” Max reached for the parcel. “Can I just look at him one last time? To say… goodbye?”
“You want to do what?” Shibol rolled his eyes. He mumbled something under his breath and said “Okay, but make it quick.”
Max took the parcel from his master. He unwrapped the outer layer of cloth. He had done this so many times during their journey. As Max’s eyes landed on the creature inside, he smiled. The little beastie was sleeping. It was currently in its primal form — the one with the smooth silvery skin with a flat nose and no ears. Most would have found this face disgusting — but not Max. The acolyte had become fond of the baby doppleganger as they traveled. Shibol had tasked the care of the creature to Max. It was Max who fed it pigeons three times a day. It was Max who washed it in a bucket, it was Max who rocked it to sleep every night. Max had grown to love the baby doppleganger as if it was his own offspring. A single tear fell from the acolyte’s eyes.
“Farewell, little beastie,” he whispered, stroking the doppleganger’s smooth scalp. The creature yawned. It opened its huge, bulging eyes.
“Oh great.” Shibol sighed. “You woke it. Good job, acolyte. Keep it quiet.”
“Sorry, sorry. Shhhh shhh” Max rocked the doppleganger. The creature yawned again, and blinked. It stared straight at Max with it’s round, aquatic eyes. “Shhhh. Be quiet. You gotta be quiet.” Max whispered to it. The beastie winked in comprehension. Suddenly its face morphed. In half a second it phased through hundreds of human faces. It settled on a single face — Max’s. The acolyte held a tiny version of himself, and was slightly freaked out. The doppleganger had never done this before.
“It has a sense of humor, huh?” Shibol remarked. “Are you done with your tear-filled goodbye?”
“Uhhh… I think so.” Max handed the parcel back to his master, somewhat perturbed. The doppleganger smiled revealing several rows of sharp teeth. It winked at Max. Shibol wrapped it back in the cloth.
“Remember, if you see anything unusual, hoot like an owl. See you in five minutes. Glory to the Kraken!”
“Glory to the Kraken.” Max watched Shibol float up holding the parcel. The acolyte wondered what the doppleganger wanted to say to him with that last face.
* * *
Max paced along the garden, his eyes fixed on the window. Five minutes had definitely passed. Probably ten minutes had passed. Max was very nervous. He rubbed his Kraken ring for comfort. “Most likely Shibol can’t find the baby” Max thought. “Babies can be very small.” He looked at the curtain flapping out of the open window. Yes, the acolyte was definitely nervous. Maybe fifteen minutes had passed by now? Should he hoot like an owl? It would technically be against his master’s instructions, since nothing specific had happened. Still, maybe he should hoot like an owl? He rubbed his Kraken ring for comfort.
Just then a light flashed in the window his master entered in. A very bright flash. It was a strange flash — not like the light of a candle, nor a flash of lightning. No, it was more like the light of the sun — but only for a brief moment.
Max dropped on the grass and crawled backwards. The afterimage in his eyes covered everything. A second flash came from the window. Max hooted like an owl. Oh, how he hooted. Blinded, crawling, the acolyte made noised that he believed an owl would make. He hooted without stopping as he crawled through the garden.
A light lit up on the ground floor. The light of a candle. A dog started to bark. A sleepy voice yelled “Betty, did you hear that?”. Another sleepy voice replied “Barry, what was that noise?”. Max ran. He ran through the garden, dodging apple trees. He vaulted over the fence, and ran into the barley field. He ran through the golden field, shimmering in the pale moonlight. He ran right into a mace.
“Owww” Max rubbed his forehead.
“Thought you could get away, huh?” A voice boomed.
“Owwww” Max tried to move.
“You folk don’t normally run — I’ll give you that. Still, I’m prepared for everything.” The voice continued.
“Owwwww, my head.”
“You see I *know* that the society always sends out its agents in pairs. I always locate both before striking.”
“Owwwwww.” Max opened his eyes. His vision was still blurry. He seemed to see a hulking man in platemail looming over him. The man was glowing slightly, light bouncing of the polished armor. Max coughed. “What do you want?”
“What do I want?” The man laughed. “Nothing.”
“Then, why?”
“Why?” The man put down his mace and stood up straight. He held his arms over his head. “I am Guy of the Rhode Crew. You are an agent of the Society of the Kraken. You will pay for your crimes against the people. You will pay for the kidnapping of King Hekaton of the Storm Giants. You will pay for the death of Caspar Dryland of Cthuth, who was the brother of my friend Tanga of Cthuth. You will pay for the murder, and subsequent impersonation of Whiskey Jack of the Zhentarim. I am Guy of the Rhode Crew, and I sentence you to death.”
Max’s death was quick and painless. It felt like sunrise.
* * *
Max floated. He saw a strange sphere in the distance, and floated towards the sphere. He floated around the sphere for a while. Then he decided to float inside the sphere. The sphere had nothing interesting inside it, so Max floated back outside. He floated around some more. He wondered if this was what it was like to be an octopus — floating everywhere? It was nice in it’s own way. Not as nice as being alive used to be — no, Max could remember being alive, and that was great. Still floating through the endless void like a mimic octopus was not so bad. They truly were a noble species.
Max felt something tugging him. This was strange, since it was the first time he felt anything since the day he died. It felt like someone had taken Max by the hand and was pulling him. Max followed the strange force. It lead him into a golden barley field.
He looked around. There was something familiar about the barley field, though Max couldn’t figure out where he had seen it before. Then he noticed his corpse lying on the ground. “Ah, yes — this is where I died” Max remembered. His killer was still there, sitting beside the corpse. The old cleric moved his left hand, preparing some mystical incantation. The cleric clicked his fingers, and Max entered into his own corpse.
It was good to be in a body again. And yet — he was not alive. The only part he could move were his vocal chords. The only sense he had was hearing. Still, it was good to hear the wind again.
“What is your name?” The cleric asked. He sounded tired. Max felt a compulsion to answer.
“My name is Max.”
“What was your mission?”
“To exchange the Johnson boy for a doppleganger.”
“Is there an afterlife? If so, what is it like?”
“I think there is one. You float. Hard to explain. Like you’re an octopus.”
“Did you meet anyone in the afterlife going by the following names: Rhodey, Petrichor, Grimnir, Dresk, Bongo?”
“No.”
“Can you point me to any living members of the Society of the Kraken?”