(These first few episode had to be reconstructed from memory and image archives after the original posts were lost in the MSPA Forum crash of March 2016. A few months after the Ballad started, M.M.Marmel started saving notification emails. After the crash, when I began reconstructing the Ballad on Tumblr, he graciously provided his archive which contained almost the entire MSPAFA run with only a few small gaps which I had to fill from memory. Thanks Mitch, you saved the Ballad - literally! Most of the first half of this file had to be copypasted from adleryoung.tumblr.com because apparently I am still bad at archiving things.) ************** The earliest thing I can remember is waving to my father on the balcony as my mother carried me out of the palace one day. “Hi da Princey!” I babbled foolishly. “Hush, youngling,” my mother said. “Your brother, Estmere, is the Prince. That is your father, the King. You are the little Duke.” “WIBBLEDUKE!” I agreed enthusiastically. “Where we goin’ Mama?” I asked. “We are here,” she replied. Inside the building, it was cool and shady, with lots of stone things scattered around. I was not impressed. In fact, I was ready to go home. I did not like the looks of this place at all. I grabbed onto my mother and started to whimper. “Tsk tsk,” she tsked. “This is the Hall of Ancestors. Nothing can harm you here.” I was skeptical. My mother, ever clever and resourceful, distracted me with my favorite toy: Bucephalus the Ant! I immediately forgot about everything else as I was carried away on imaginary adventures astride my faithful six-legged steed. I dreamed of being like my mighty ancestor, Irenaeus the Bloodthirsty, the original founder of the Mephitist Empire. His ant had been named Bucephalus too! Oh to have such adventures, riding across the length and breadth of Faerie, suppressing rebellions and conquering heathens! How glorious!! Soon my mother finished whatever she was doing, and picked me up to head back to the castle. “Wha dat, Mama?” I asked, waving Bucephalus at the bag in her hand. “Mushrooms,” she replied. “YUCK,” I declared. “These mushrooms are not for eating,” she laughed mysteriously. “They are for Not Noticing.” “I see em right dere,” I insisted. “Ah, but the first part of magick is an exercise of the will,” my mother explained. “If you concentrate really hard on Not Noticing the mushrooms, you can make them disappear. Try it.” This concept completely blew my young mind. ******** I got so good at Not Noticing the mushrooms, I subsequently tripped over them while toddling around our apartment with Bucephalus. I remember being extremely upset. My mother consoled me by telling me that I had a natural talent for Magick. image The next significant thing I remember was studying Gramarye. I parsed Elvish sentences for what seemed an eternity, under my mother’s watchful eye. I don’t recall spending a lot of time playing when I was a youth. There were no other children at the Capital, save my brother Estmere, who was a few years older, and - being the Crown Prince - was not usually at liberty to play with me. image While Estmere learned the regal & manly arts of Statecraft and Melee, I had to endure lute lessons in Dame Chitterleigh’s parlor, for apparently it was the second son’s role to be effete and charming among the ladies of the Court. My head reeled with endless old ballads and lays which I had to memorize. The lessons were especially maddening because I could often hear sounds of ant-riding and mock battles in the courtyard outside the Dame’s window. image The only training of anything resembling a martial nature was my archery lessons with Utica the Huntress. SO LAME! Archery is for GIRLS!! ******************* One day I finally demanded to be taught something cooler than Archery For Girls. “I want to learn Swordplay!” I whined. “As a Second Son, and furthermore as a Royal Bastard, you are not permitted to wield a sword, Your Grace,” Utica replied. “Well, there has to be something more exciting than this!” I exclaimed. image “You’re right, there is,” Utica declared. “Now see if you can set that haystack on fire from here.” I realized that Utica’s definition of “exciting” must be quite different from mine, and there was no point in further argument. Later, at Dame Chitterleigh’s, I made a similar appeal. “I am so sick of lute ballads!” I wailed. “Teach me something more fun!” “Why Adler, I was beginning to think you’d never ask!” the Dame chittered delightedly. image “OH FOR FUMA’S SAKE,” I grumbled inwardly as she led me through my first minuet. “MOM,” I yelled as soon as I got home. “I am sick and tired of all these pointless lessons! What use are archery and balladeering and dancing and Gramarye? I want to learn Statecraft and be an Elf of Stature, not a Court Buffoon!” “Chitterleigh has you dancing already?” my mother asked. “No matter. Your birth status excludes you from the halls of power. For now. At any rate, you may find that balladeering and dancing will get you farther at court than any amount of Statecraft could.” “Oh yeah?” I sassed. “And what about Gramarye? What use will I ever have for diagramming sentences and organizing words into categories?” “Magick is about manipulating concepts,” she explained. “I see that a practical demonstration is in order.” image “Name that pumpkin,” she commanded. **************** “Don’t just give it a silly random name,” my mother warned. “Name it what it is, what you feel deep within your heart that its name should be.” image: Sir Jerkycorn After pondering for a few minutes, I had the pumpkin’s name clearly in my mind. “Start with something simple first, to build confidence,” my mother advised. “Use the pumpkin’s name and command it - in proper Gramarye - to do something it would naturally tend to do.” “Okay,” I muttered nervously. “Sir Jerkycorn, sit there and be orange.” image BY FUMA! IT’S WORKING!! This was amazing. ***************************** “Very good,” my mother commended me. “Now try changing its color.” “Sir Jerkycorn, be blue!” I commanded. image FUMA’S WHISKERS! This was amazing! My mind was a sudden whirl of ideas. “Sir Jerkycorn, smile!” I exclaimed. image “Interesting,” my mother remarked. “Sir Jerkycorn, open your eyes!” I continued. image “Remember we’re going to have to eat that,” my mother cautioned me. I had to admit, the eyes were a little creepy. “Sir Jerkycorn, appear over someone’s head!” I ordered, mischievously. Nothing happened. “Hey, why didn’t that one work?” I asked, crestfallen. “Levitation and teleportation are too far outside a pumpkin’s normal range of behavior,” my mother explained. “It will require a greater force of will on your part to make that happen. This will come with practice. Also, your command was too vaguely worded. When you say ‘over’ do you mean ‘above’ or ‘covering’? And whose head? You must be very specific with your Gramarye, otherwise who knows what will happen? You’ll be lucky if you get nothing. Unexpected results are seldom pleasant.” ******************** In a rush of enthusiasm, I named one of the parlor chairs. image “Lady Sittington, become a long bench!” I commanded. image “Change it back!” my mother ordered. “We don’t want to have to explain where the bench came from! And furthermore, I forbid you from perpetrating magickal mischief around the Palace. You must be subtle, for now, and let no-one know that you have these Talents.” “But we elves are magickal creatures,” I retorted. “Not as much as we used to be. Our magick has been gradually fading for generations. Someday you will wield your powers openly, but it could be dangerous to give yourself away too soon. Now change the chair back.” “Lady Sittington, become as you were,” I sighed. “But let your seat be soft and cushy.” image “Ah, that last bit was a touch of inspiration, my son,” my mother said with a grin. “I think we shall leave it this way.” “Sir Jerkycorn, creep across the table at a rate of one millimeter per second,” I whispered quietly while she was distracted. This could be my chance to avoid having pumpkin casserole for dinner! ******************* “Nice try, Adler,” my mother sneered as she caught the pumpkin. “But we should never waste food.” “Sir Jerkycorn, let your skin be as hard as diamonds!” I whispered into my sleeve. image “What in Fuma’s name?” my mother exclaimed after mangling her best carving knife on the now rock-hard pumpkin. image “ADLER!” she scolded. “You are on EXTREMELY thin ice, young elf! Fix this knife, and restore that pumpkin to normal, or there will be consequences best referred to as DIRE!” (As I recall, the outcome was pretty dire anyway. She fixed pumpkin casserole with Brussels Sprouts. YUCK! Anyway, let’s move on to something else, shall we?) **************** The next significant thing I can remember happened a little while later. I was wandering around the cloister gardens in the Palace one day, when I met my brother (well, technically my half-brother) Estmere. image “Hello, Bastard,” he greeted me. image I stared at him, unsure how to respond. Was he being mean, or was he merely stating a fact? I pondered answering in a similarly flippant manner, perhaps calling him a Royal Pain, or pointing out the fact that at least MY mother was still around, whereas HIS mother, Queen Persephone, was gone - whereabouts and condition unknown. Or perhaps I could mention that my bastard status was mostly due to his (our) father’s actions (even though most people seemed to place the blame entirely on my mother for some reason.) But one simply does NOT sass the Crown Prince of Faerie! image “Hey, Bastard, I’m talkin’ to you!” Estmere repeated, leaning close and scowling. “What’s the matter with you? Are you sick or something?” By Fuma! He was so much bigger and older than me! I thought about maybe using Gramarye to distract him, but with him staring right at me there’s no way I could be “subtle” like my mother told me to .. I briefly considered telling him there was something behind him, but elves do not lie, so that was out. Unless I meant something like his shirt, or part of the building .. but working out the semantics was more than I could handle under the intense scrutiny he was giving me. Time was running out! image “DON’T LOOK BEHIND YOU!” I blurted at last, using the momentary distraction to make my escape. **************** “HEY! YOU LITTLE BASTARD!” Estmere yelled. Oh crap, oh crap, I thought. He wasn’t distracted nearly long enough! image “COME BACK HERE!” Estmere yelled again. This was not going well. Being chased around the cloister gardens by my elder brother was pretty much exactly what I did NOT want to wind up doing today. For a moment, I contemplated spraying him with my musk, but was immediately ashamed of the thought. Only barbarians and little babies did that! Spraying the Crown Prince would get me into SO MUCH trouble, and I’d be mercilessly teased about it for the rest of my life! There was a narrow passage at the corner of this cloister. I was sure Estmere knew about it, but he was probably too big to fit through it now .. so if I could just manage one final burst of speed, I might be able to reach it before he caught me .. image I tripped on a bag of mushrooms. “OW!! WHO LEFT THAT THERE?” I wailed. I could have sworn it wasn’t there a second ago! image Before I could get up, Estmere had me in a headlock and began administering a Royal Noogie on my scalp. “Why do you have to run away like that?” he asked. “You’re such a spaz. All I wanna do is hang out with my little bro, my favorite little bastard..” “My name is Adler,” I grumbled. “Your name is Adler what?” “My name is Adler, sir.” I answered with a reluctant sigh. **************** As time passed, it seemed that my dancing lessons with Dame Chitterleigh became less odious to me. In fact, I began to look forward to them with an odd sort of anticipation. image I also found a new and unexpected interest in my archery lessons with Utica the Huntress. One day, when I returned home, my mother confronted me. “I’ve heard certain reports from your teachers,” she began. “You’re beginning to grow up now, and it is time to take certain measures. Ordinarily a young male at this stage will become besotted with ‘love’ for a female .. but in your case, your will and your mind must remain under your own control. No son of mine should ever become a floozy’s plaything.” image “There are things you must learn, which it is not proper for me to teach you,” she continued, handing me a sealed envelope. “Take this letter to Sheila Na Gig, in the forest outside the Gate.” “In the lowfolk world?” I asked, surprised. “Don’t act surprised,” my mother scolded. “I know you and Estmere have snuck out there many times to play pranks on the lowfolk.” BUSTED! It’s true; my brother and I had snuck through the Gate on occasion, where I had used my lute and the charming power of Elfsong to lure hapless lowfolk to get lost in the woods. It was always hilarious - not to mention a fine tradition of Elfly mischief dating all the way back to the Long Ago. But how in the world did my mother know about those excursions? Estmere and I had been sneaky in the extreme! “You will need to be equally circumspect in this case,” she continued. “No-one must know where you have gone, or even that you have gone. Sneak out through the Gate tonight after supper. Proceed directly to the place indicated and give Sheila this letter. Wait for her to read it, and above all DO NOT SPEAK TO HER until she has spoken to you first. She owes me a favor, and will not harm you, but she could be extremely dangerous to anyone else .. furthermore, the secrets and techniques she will teach you are for you alone, so do not bring anyone else with you.” image “What kind of secret techniques?” I asked, my head filled with speculative visions of tap-dancing, juggling, unicycle riding … perhaps even YODELING! “I’m afraid Sheila’s arts are of a mostly sexual nature,” my mother reluctantly admitted. “She will explain in greater detail when you meet her.” My disappointment was less than might be expected, and in fact my anticipation only increased as we ate supper and I prepared for my journey. *************** That evening, I made my way stealthily to the old abandoned scrying tower outside Albric Tor, and through the Gate that opened underneath it. The other side of the Gate led through an ancient dolmen arch inside a circle of stones amidst the dense forests of the lowfolk world. This place was full of potential dangers for a young elf traveling alone, and I was going to have to travel much farther from the Gate than I ever had before! I proceeded with caution. image On my way to the place indicated on the letter, I encountered a feral creature which made me wonder … could my mother have adopted this extreme form of magickal disguise to spy on me? How else could she have known about my forays with Estmere into these same woods? No, it was too preposterous. image There was a tense moment when I almost ran into a lowfolk maiden, but fortunately I was alerted to her presence by her ungraceful stumbling through the underbrush, as well as her despondent whimpering. I quickly took to the trees before she spotted me - which was lucky, because the local organization of Merrie Men were also attracted by all the noise she was making. They offered to lead her to safety in exchange for the contents of the basket she was carrying, which seemed to me to be an equitable bargain. As soon as they had gone, I climbed down and continued my journey. Arriving at the place indicated, I found a dank, mossy ravine with a cave at the bottom of it. As I approached, a large, gangly creature which I would never have identified as an elf emerged from the cave and confronted me. image “What tender morsel is this, that dares approach my lair?” the creature asked in a smooth but strangely muffled voice. Remembering my mother’s warnings, I remained silent and held out the envelope. *********** “Stop gawking like a ninny and identify yourself,” the creature insisted. I remained silent and continued holding out the letter. “Foolish youngling,” the creature scoffed. “Quivering in fear. Do try not to wet yourself.” I silently congratulated my wisdom in going to the loo before I left home, but said nothing. “Fine,” the creature sighed. “I assume this letter is for me, from whomever it was that warned you how to deal with me?” image She took the letter and proceeded to read it while I nervously observed. She was tastefully - almost elegantly - dressed, but her lower body was that of a gigantic spider. Her face was hidden behind a strange horned mask with a cowl draped behind her head. There appeared to be eye-holes in the mask, but I could see nothing but darkness behind them. “So, you’re Mavis’s boy,” the spider exclaimed. “The young scion of Irenaeus. Well, you’re somewhat expected. If you had been anyone else, I would devour you where you stand, but for the son of one of my best pupils … GREAT AUK! She expects me to teach you Wiles! Even though I knew this day was coming, the thought of it chills me to my core. A boy knowing Wiles! What a dreadful thing to contemplate!” I continued to stand quietly. “You can speak to me now, Adler,” the spider sighed. “I’ve read the letter. And yes, your fears and suspicions are correct. I am Sheila Na Gig.” image “What’s Wiles?” I asked. “And why is it bad for a boy to know them?” “Wiles are women’s weapons,” Sheila replied warily. “Secret arts of persuasion passed down among the Sisterhood for generations. Teaching them to a male is tantamount to treason .. but in these times we have an even greater concern. Though it violates my principles, I will teach you.” “Wait, why is it tantamount to treason?” I asked. “And what greater concerns?” “Imagine that you are at war,” Sheila explained. “You would not want to reveal your weapons and strategies to the enemy.” “Men and women are at war?” I asked, baffled. “It’s not the conventional kind of war fought by morons riding ants and battling for possession of territory. It’s an ongoing metaphysical struggle in which power is simultaneously the weapon and the reward. Teaching you Wiles will make you an abomination, but it will also make you powerful .. and the Sisterhood has decided to gamble on your potential.” “Huh?” “Surely you have noticed that you and your half-brother are the only younglings at the Capital. All other elf children are sent to the lowfolk world to be fostered and raised as changelings, a noble old elvish tradition that has been perverted by foxy conspirators whom King Gawain, with both eyes open, has permitted to work their wickedness among us. I am exiled to this forsaken place for imaginary crimes like ‘blasphemy’ and occasionally eating people, while those diabolical schemers are permitted to taint elvish blood with lowfolk essence, on the spurious pretext of ‘strengthening the race.’ Is that justice? Thanks to them, the Crown Prince himself is not even a proper elf. It falls to you, as a true Son of Irenaeus, to keep yourself pure and restore honor to Faerie. And, though as I said it troubles me greatly to do so, teaching you Wiles is necessary to help you fulfill your destiny. Now, come with me into my cave.” ***************** I must pass in silence over the disturbing events that occurred in Sheila Na Gig’s cave. I understand that your lowfolk culture does not approve of such things - and besides, there’s no way I would reveal the secrets of the Wiles in a public forum like this. When my training was complete, I made my way home in a daze of fatigue and astonishment. I barely even remember how I got there. image My mother immediately put me to bed and fed me soup. “It troubles me to see you in such a state,” she sighed, “but it allows us to conveniently explain your absence by saying that you have been ill.” “But I’ve been away for weeks,” I murmured, somewhat distressed at my mother’s willingness to stretch the truth. “Actually, it’s only been a day here,” my mother explained. “Sheila has, as usual, thought of every detail. She manipulated the temporal discrepancy between the worlds to make sure you got back only shortly after you left. Have some more soup, and a good night’s rest, and tomorrow you’ll be fit enough to resume your normal routine. No-one must suspect that you’ve been away nor specifically where you have been and what you were doing there.” And so, thanks to the miraculous effects of my mother’s soup, I was back up and about the next day. I headed over to Dame Chitterleigh’s as usual for my lute lessons. image I decided to try out my newly learned skills on the Dame. Surely, by conspiring to teach me Wiles, Sheila and my mother meant for me to use them! I reasoned that it must be my responsibility to stay in practice, to ready myself for whatever vague destiny they foresaw. I shot Dame Chitterleigh a Smoldering Glance. It was super effective! She blushed and giggled girlishly. image Later, at archery practice, I tried it on Utica the Huntress. She responded with a cunning counter-Wile. How interesting! image Later that afternoon, hanging out with Estmere, I decided to ask him a question that had been bothering me for a while. “How come there aren’t any other young people around here?” I began. “Well, duh, they all got sent to be raised by lowfolk,” Estmere replied. “We didn’t have to go because we’re sons of the King, I guess.” “Yes, I know about the Changeling tradition,” I continued. “But what happens to the lowfolk swaplings? Elf children are traded for lowfolk children, and those kids should have been around here somewhere, shouldn’t they? But I’ve never seen one.” “Dude, that’s a good question,” Estmere mused. “I don’t know. I’ve never really thought about it .. but if you want to know about swaplings you should talk to the Old Crow. He used to be one.” **************** “The Old Crow,” I mused. “Is he that creepy weird guy with the black feathers and the mask?” “No, that’s Sir Ravenmad, the Court Poet,” Estmere replied. “Those feathers are like, a cloak that he wears. I’m not sure what exactly he is under there. He might not even be a bird at all.” image “The Old Crow is definitely an avian,” Estmere continued. “Probably a crow, I guess. He came here as a swapling during Grandpa Adler’s reign and, like, learned our ways and stuff. They say he even picked up some magick, which is totally unusual. He’s now the King’s agent in the lowfolk lands. Dad .. or was it Grandpa .. anyway one of them made him an honorary elf and offered him a place to live here at Albric Tor, but he was all like ‘I can serve better as a lowfolk agent in the lowfolk lands’ and insisted on living in his own miserable hovel in the woods outside the Gate.” “Do you think it would be okay for me to talk to him?” I asked. “I don’t see why not,” Estmere replied thoughtfully. “But come to think of it, I haven’t seen him around here lately. We’ll have to go visit him at his shack.” “We?” “Yeah, Bro. I know where it is, and you don’t. Besides, you’ve got me kinda interested now, and I want to hear what he has to say.” image And so, we set out for the Old Crow’s humble shack. The fresh forest air, the dappled sunlight filtering through the trees, the thrill of adventure, all put me in the mood for a song. “Mighty Fuma had the Itch / her whiskers they began to twitch…” “No offense, Bro, but I am really not in the mood for Church music right now,” Estmere interrupted. “Oh, um,” I stammered, searching for a conversational gambit. “How’s our father these days? I hardly ever see him.” “Oh, you know, he’s all regal and Kingly,” Estmere answered vaguely. “Real busy with weighty affairs of State.” “I see,” I stalled, trying to think of something else to talk about. “Are there .. any ladies around the Court that you fancy?” “Oh, dude,” Estmere replied with sudden enthusiasm. “There’s not a whole lot to pick from, but have you seen that gazelle babe who does the archery? Utica the Huntress? Dude, SO HOT!!” image “Why yes, I know Utica quite well,” I boasted suavely. “I take archery lessons with her, and I think she might be a little bit into me..” “NO WAY!” Estmere exclaimed. “How is that even possible? Archery is for girls!” “Yes way,” I elaborated. “As Royal Bastard, I get to associate with a different sort of people. A softer, curvier sort than you spend your days with. I look forward to the day, quite soon, when I can include Making Out as part of my daily lessons with her..” ************** That’s when my brother slugged me in the arm. “OW! Quit it!” I protested. “What am I supposed to do, check with you before I pursue any girl?” “Might be a good idea, dude,” Estmere answered coolly. “Anyway, let that be a lesson to you about talkin’ smack to the Crown Prince.” “Smack?” I exclaimed indignantly. “I propose a challenge! You know the Ferifax Festival is coming up in a few weeks. Whichever one of us Utica kisses before then gets to go out with her exclusively.” “No can do, Bro,” Estmere replied. “Why not? Are you chicken?” “What’s that supposed to mean?” he asked, perplexed. “Chickens are cowardly birds who never take risks or do anything interesting,” I explained. “No, my objection has nothing to do with poultry,” Estmere elaborated. “It’s just that you propose a wager wherein you have every advantage. You already know Utica, and you have the opportunity of your daily lessons to spend time with her. I, on the other hand, am a relative stranger, and have no pretext on which to get better acquainted. By the rules of Statecraft, dude, I cannot accept your terms.” “I think you’re forgetting the advantages of Royalty,” I pointed out. “Power and wealth, which you have but I do not, are strong enticements in your favor.” “Really?” Estmere asked, seemingly surprised. “Still, that can’t do me much good if I don’t have any opportunity to talk to her.” image “Well, how about if I introduce you to her?” I offered. “DUDE, seriously, would you do that?” “Sure, but I’m afraid if I do, I’d be practically giving her to you.” “Whoa, dude,” Estmere scowled. “Girls get to choose who they like.” “Well, she can’t choose you if she never meets you,” I pointed out. “So should I arrange an introduction or not?” “I dunno, Bro .. what should I say to her? How should I act? What should I do?” “Just be polite,” I explained. “Compliment her appearance without being crude. Try to be smooth. In other words, don’t act like yourself.” He slugged me again. image “Oh, we’re here,” Estmere stated as we approached a tiny, squalid-looking hut. It didn’t look inhabited. “I don’t think he’s in,” I murmured apprehensively. image “YO! OLD CROW!” Etmere bellowed. “THIS IS PRINCE ESTMERE! ARE YOU AT HOME?” Suddenly I felt very apprehensive about being in the lowfolk woods with the Crown Prince, unescorted, shouting his name for all the world to hear. *********************** After a few minutes of not getting any answer, Estmere climbed the steps and opened the door of the Old Crow’s miserable shack. “Dude, I don’t think he’s in,” Estmere called out to me. “Looks like he hasn’t been here in a long time.” “Let’s investigate,” I suggested. “Maybe there will be some clue as to what happened to him or where he is.” image “Dude,” Estmere complained while sneezing violently. “I got … a … aCHOO! I got nothin’ but cobwebs and dust over here.” Rummaging under the straw mattress, I discovered a slim codex entitled Ruffled Feathers. Inside was a series of woodcuts showing comely avian maidens in varying states of undress and compromising positions. “Whoah,” I exclaimed while flipping through it. “It seems this dirty Old Crow may have had some skeletons in his closet.” “What in the Netherhells are you talking about, Bro? This dump doesn’t even have a closet.” “What do you make of this?” I asked, holding up the book for him to see. “Pretty tame stuff if you ask me,” Estmere sniffed. “I don’t dig the Old Crow’s tastes, but seriously, what’s the problem?” I stuffed the book back under the mattress, and then I noticed a furtive scuttling sound coming from under the bed. image “SPIDERS!” I shrieked, jumping back. “ARGH, DUDE!” Estmere yelled. “There’s gotta be dozens .. no, hundreds .. THERE’S JUST TOO MANY OF THEM! RETREAT! RETREAT!!” image We fled in a panicked rout from the Old Crow’s squalid shack. All I can say in defense of my cowardly behavior is that I was having distressful flashbacks of my Wiles training in the cold arachnid clutches of Sheila Na Gig. ***************** We raced back through the Gate and paused, gasping for breath, in the small room underneath the scrying tower. “We gotta warn everybody!” Estmere panted. “That spider army probably devoured the Old Crow and now it’s got our scent and it’s headed for the Capital!” I nodded my head and whimpered. “I’ll notify the Court and the Cabinet Ministers,” Estmere decided. “You go around and spread the word among the staff and the lesser nobility.” image “MOM!” I yelled after rushing straight home. “PACK YOUR BAGS AND HEAD FOR THE HILLS! THEY’RE COMING!” “Who is coming?” my mother asked calmly. “THE SPIDER ARMY!” “Would this be the spider army in the Old Crow’s miserable hut?” she guessed. By Fuma! I was thunderstruck. How does she know these things? image “Oh Adler,” she sighed. “If you had just listened to the Voice of the Forest, it would have told you that the Old Crow was long gone. Furthermore, there is no invading spider army; twas just a simple glamer the Old Crow installed to scare away intruders from his miserable shack. You must study more, to keep from being fooled by such basic tricks.” “Voice of the Forest?” I asked stupidly. “It is something every elf knows - or at least, every elf USED to know. The Voice of the Forest is a native ability; it shouldn’t have to be taught. It dates back to the time of the First Elves, back when we were masters of the Earth and we lived in communion with all nature, before the lowfolk began to encroach and drive us from our lands. The trees speak to us if we stop to listen. The Voice is not everywhere so strong, but in an ancient elf holding such as the tulgey wood outside the Gate, even your lout of a half-brother should have been able to hear it.” Could this be the way she knew so much about what I had been up to, those times I had snuck out with Estmere? “Of course,” she answered. “But first, I think you need a different lesson. Go to the Hall of Ancestors. Find out about the Old Crow and take note of everything else you see there.” “Can’t you just tell me?” I asked. image “There is no excuse for laziness,” my mother scolded. “I can tell you that the Crow was an agent of the King, carrying out the business of the Court in the lowfolk lands. He was a lowfolk child himself, swapped for a Changeling, back in the early days. He learned many of our Arts and was made an honorary elf, granting him a long life as well as palace privileges, of which he declined to avail himself. He seemed none too keen on the new Changeling policies, but he continued in his obedience to the Crown. He was sent on a mission several years ago, from which he has not returned. Another agent - coincidentally one of the Sisterhood - was sent to find him, and she too has not returned. As for the rest, stop shirking and go to the Hall of Ancestors. There is much you need to see for yourself.” So, I made my way to the Hall of Ancestors and went inside. image The interior was cool and dark, as always, and much larger than the outside of the building appeared to be. It was full of somber stone monuments to great elves throughout history. Only a few of these were tombs containing the elf’s actual remains. Most were simply memorials, and it was said that they appeared here by magick at the very moment when a noteworthy elf died. Right away I spotted the monuments of several characters from ancient ballads which Dame Chitterleigh had taught me. Halewynn was decapitated; he would have recovered, but his impudent lowfolk floozy refused to apply balm to his wounds in a timely manner. Sir John Hilsinger was tricked by a lowfolk maiden and thrown into a mill-pond while wearing a full suit of armor; he drowned. Rederbrand was tragically named to death by his feckless lowfolk lover in the course of a swashbuckling duel with her father and brothers. I began to suspect that perhaps the lesson my mother wished me to learn was “do not dally with lowfolk women” … but that didn’t seem entirely relevant to recent events, and I was here specifically to find out about the Old Crow. I ventured farther into the Hall of Ancestors. ***************** I ambled past the monuments of many legendary elves from the Long Ago and the early Imperial period. There was Blind Bolvis, who fell down a well, and Old Carl Hood (aye for ill and never for good), who was imprisoned in an oubliette and forgotten. What was the lesson I was supposed to be learning? The elves of old didn’t cower on the fringes of the lowfolk world; they lived boldly and died foolishly! image At last, I found it. On top of the tomb of Lord Randall (given toxic soup by his lowfolk concubine for no apparent reason) was a plaque proclaiming the Old Crow “Immolated.” I supposed that being declared an honorary elf must have really counted for something, since I had never before heard of any lowfolk having a monument in the Hall of Ancestors. I also deduced this meant the Old Crow was dead. image After staring for a long time at the monument, trying to figure out what further significance it might have, I suddenly noticed clusters of mushrooms growing around the base of Lord Randall’s tomb. Something about them seemed strangely familiar. I picked one, and cautiously sniffed it. I picked a fistful of them and carefully commanded them, with Gramarye, not to be poisonous. Then I took a bite. image I quickly spit it back out. GROSS! Anything that tasted this horrible had to be poisonous! I stuffed the mushrooms into my pockets for further examination later, and looked around. image There was a bright blue-white light glowing beyond that archway over there. It definitely wasn’t daylight; it looked more like the magickal luminescence known as Elf-light. ********************* I followed the glow of Elf-light into a high-ceilinged room which contained two thrones on a dais in front of a very ornate door. This must be the Coronation Chamber, in which the High King of Faerie and his Queen are crowned! Therefore the door must lead into the famed Royal Gardens, which none but the Royal Couple are allowed to enter. image I briefly indulged in daydreams about what it would be like to be Emperor. I would be stern but just, ruling the land with my own special mix of wisdom and brute force, glowering savagely, my white fur gleaming just like Irenaeus of old. I wisely resisted the temptation to sit on the throne, since it was said that the thrones contained an ancient & powerful magick that would blast to dust any unworthy person who dared to sit there. It was also possible that my half-royal blood would cause me to usurp my father’s crown were I to sit on the Coronation Throne, so to avoid any possibility of my own disintegration or violent political upheaval, I refrained from sitting. image I paused another moment to imagine how, if fate had dealt me a slightly different hand, I might have become Faerie’s greatest Empress, beautiful and terrible, desired by all but possessed by none, ruling by guile, with an iron fist inside a velvet glove .. Okay, that’s enough of that!! I quickly checked under the thrones for chewing gum, and finding none, I turned my attention to the Garden doors. I pushed on them, and I pulled, but they would not budge. image Although I was pretty sure Wiles wouldn’t work on an inanimate object, I decided it couldn’t hurt to try. There was nobody around to see me. I used some of my best stuff: A Lingering Touch, a Coy Glance … I even whispered some Sweet Nothings, but all to no avail. The doors remained shut. ************* After leaving the Coronation Chamber, I happened upon my grandfather Adler’s monument. It was a little eerie seeing my own name up there over the entrance. I was also filled with curiosity since this was the only monument I had yet seen with an interior space which one could enter. image I stepped cautiously inside. The gloom of the Hall of Ancestors deepened, making the inside of King Adler’s monument as dark as .. well .. a tomb. Carefully I crept forward into the darkness. image I flinched in alarm as a light suddenly flicked on, and a voice said: “Hello, I’m King Adler the Prudent. Thank you for visiting my tomb.” image As my heart gradually stopped racing, I saw there was a small glowing effigy of King Adler, standing atop a stone pedestal (or perhaps it was a sarcophagus.) His voice seemed to be coming from some invisible point a few feet away. It continued reciting its message: "During my reign, more territory (in proportion to existing Imperial lands) was added to the Empire than by any High King since Irenaeus the Bloodthirsty.” Thinking that perhaps this spell could have been installed here to allow Grandpa Adler’s descendants to come and seek the guidance of his wise spirit, I addressed the apparition: “Your Majesty, you don’t know me because you died before I was born, but I am your grandson. Your illegitimate grandson, actually. I am also named Adler. I was wondering -” “With less cost of Elvish lives - per capita - than any expansion since Thorwald the Cautious!” the voice continued, ignoring me completely. “I secured the future legacy of Elfkind by instituting the historic Lowfolk Interbreeding Initiative. Production of all commodities increased, while taxes and tributes remained steady. No law-abiding elf went hungry during my reign. I trust I am well remembered by posterity, and I thank you for visiting my tomb. Please stop in again.” The voice fell silent, and the light was abruptly extinguished. *************** I was more than a little bit disappointed at the cheesiness and crass propaganda of this display in my grandfather “Adler the Prudent’s” tomb. However I did make a mental note of the Lowfolk Breeding Initiative which the glamer had mentioned. It might have something to do with the absence of swaplings around Albric Tor, and perhaps even shed some light on Sheila Na Gig’s mysterious remarks about “lowfolk essence.” image As I wound my way through the Hall of Ancestors, looking for the exit, I happened upon the monument of Irenaeus the Bloodthirsty - the great and noble founder of the Mephitist Empire, and father of the Irenaeid Dynasty which still rules it to this day. The monument bas-relief showed Irenaeus bellowing mightily while riding Bucephalus over a road paved with the skulls of his enemies. WOW! What an Elf he was! The relief showed Irenaeus as he must have appeared near the end of his career, as indicated by the full suit of armor and the use of a battle-axe rather than the Spreading Sword he wielded in his youth. He was also shown without a tail, as was customary since he lost his tail in a bloody battle right when he first began conquering. (One of his unofficial nicknames was “Lacktail” though no-one would have dared call him that in his hearing!) image I also found the memorial urn of Thorwald the Cautious, the fourth Emperor of Faerie, a much less impressive monarch than any of his heroic forebears. I was momentarily struck with curiosity to see if the urn contained anything. I had a dim recollection, from Dame Chitterleigh’s history lessons, that dead Elves of Consequence in Thorwald’s day were set adrift in burning boats. Could his ashes be in the urn? How would they have been collected? image I struggled and strained with all my might, but the lid would not budge. Stories told that the Hall of Ancestors would not permit tampering with its monuments. Thieves (and later Emperors seeking to enrich their coffers) have come here seeking loot, and none ever reported finding any. Elves do not lie! **************** As I roamed among the monuments I began to muse on the history of Faerie, particularly as it related to population concerns. Is this what my mother sent me here to learn? The elves of old led fierce, vibrant lives. The elves of more recent times seem to have led fiercely humdrum lives. There was less power, less glory, less to admire, and certainly less to fear in later-vintage elfkind. There also seemed to be less elves around. Much of the Palace was empty, and I didn’t think that was simply because the children were away being Changelings in the lowfolk lands. The whole race of elves was slowly fading away. According to the glamer in Adler the Prudent’s tomb, it seemed that during my grandfather’s reign it became Imperial policy to take active measures against this decline by interbreeding(?) with the lowfolk. This wasn’t a particularly new thing. Elves had been known occasionally to frolic with lowfolk since time immemorial - but strictly for fun, not as part of some deliberate breeding scheme. However, judging by the fate of elves who had so indulged in the past, this sort of relationship had a tendency not to work out well. I wasn’t even sure elves and lowfolk COULD reproduce; Sheila Na Gig made it clear during the course of my Wiles training that a couple’s species must match for babies to be made. So that left the Changeling / Swapling arrangement as the only place to experiment. It had long been traditional for elves to dump children they were too busy (or too lazy) to raise on unsuspecting lowfolk parents. The child would grow up, draining the resources of its foster family until it came of age, when its Elfish parents would come to claim it. However, all of this still left unanswered the question of what happened to the lowfolk child. In some stories, elves of an Unseelie persuasion would cook and eat the swapling .. but the Old Crow obviously was not made into stew. So what became of all the swapped children? image In the midst of my musings I happened upon the memorial stone of Jack O’Napes, the Silly Ass. He was one of King Irenaeus’ companions. I remembered a series of quaint ballads about Jack and his jolly japes: The Frog in the Bedpan … The Vanishing Towel … Spider Muffins … Swords Made of Bread … The Seasick Ant … and his last & greatest prank, the Bucket of Water Over the Throne Room Door. One day Irenaeus decided Jack’s foolery was not funny anymore, and ran him through with a lance. There was supposed to be a moral to this story, but all I got from it was that Jack’s antics were hilarious and King Irenaeus was a total bad-ass. image I wandered a bit farther, not paying much attention to where I was going, and chuckling to myself over the droll adventures of Jack O’Napes, when suddenly I was transfixed by the sight of a languorous vixen carved in white alabaster. WHOAH! She was the most beautiful, the most enchanting thing I had ever seen. I needed to find out more about her! I circled the plinth on which the figure basked, and read the inscription. Her name, apparently, was Desiderata, and underneath that was carved the single word “THAWED.” Thawed?? What kind of death was that? The epitaphs here in the Hall of Ancestors were usually quite succinct, but one could usually figure out from their terse phrasing the general nature of the elf’s demise. This one had me baffled. image “Ahem” Sir Ravenmad cleared his throat politely. I jumped back and let out an undignified yelp of terror. “SIR RAVENMAD!” I squeaked. “What are you doing here?” “Sometimes I like to get away from the hustle and bustle of the Capital and seek inspiration here in the cool and quiet solitude among the monuments of the noble dead,” Ravenmad answered, his voice echoing sepulchrally inside his beaked mask. “Don’t stare too long at the statue, Your Grace,” he added. “Lady Desiderata elevated the Feminine Wiles from a matter of simple intuition into an Occult Art. Even her statue has the potential to bewitch certain, shall we say, susceptible males.” ************** “Who was she, sir?” I asked, sitting down on the bench (or perhaps a low sarcophagus) next to him. “I’ve never heard of her.” “The young know so little of their heritage these days,” Sir Ravenmad sighed. “And when the changelings return, they’ll know nothing at all. Desiderata lived in the Long Ago, when lowfolk worshiped us as gods. She had a heart of ice, and lured many men - elf and low alike - to their doom in the deep, cold, crystal-clear pools of Llam Hynafol.” “And what happened?” “One sad day,” Sir Ravenmad continued, “she fell in love. Her heart melted, and she died.” “Really?” I asked, skeptical despite the fact that elves do not lie. “Yes,” he replied. “Desiderata’s heart was quite literally made of ice. When its cockles were tragically warmed by love, her system could not bear the shock. The results were fatal.” “Wow,” I exclaimed. “I’ve never heard of such a thing. Elves sure were a lot different in the Long Ago.” “We were more magical back then,” Sir Ravenmad elaborated. “Nobody is quite sure why we no longer possess these attributes. One theory holds that the ancients struck unholy bargains with otherworldly entities. Perhaps there has been a gradual change in the elfish diet. Perhaps centuries of mingling with lowfolk has lessened our power. Perhaps it was mere natural selection. The greatest elves of antiquity were often the most reckless, prideful, and violent. They tended to thin their own numbers; consequently, their talents were not passed on to subsequent generations. Or perhaps Fuma is punishing us for our ancestors’ transgressions. Any of a number of things could have led to our decline, though I rather doubt it is Fuma’s wrath. You will note that moral rectitude does not seem to be a prerequisite for having a monument here in the Hall of Ancestors. Memorable deeds, be they good or ill, are all that posterity requires.” “What sort of Otherworldly Entities did the elves of old strike bargains with?” I asked. “Were they loathsome? Spidery perhaps?” “No …” Ravenmad hesitated. “Well, I suppose some of them might have been, but other accounts describe them as beautiful celestial beings. They can disguise themselves, and their power is supposed to be immense - but their favors always came at a terrible cost. This is why it is now forbidden to traffic with demons.” “What exactly are Wiles?” I asked, innocently. “They are techniques of control and subtle manipulation, innate to the Female,” Sir Ravenmad declared. “It is said they were a gift from Fuma herself. Every femme possesses them to some degree, but Desiderata systematized them into an Art. There were once rumors of a secret Sisterhood which preserved Desiderata’s techniques and used them to control Elvish dynasties from the Royal bedchamber, but these tales have never been substantiated. If there ever was a Sisterhood, it is unlikely that it still exists today." image “May I ask why you wear that mask?” I asked, impertinently. “I have determined that the way to be remembered is, quite simply, to be memorable. Be unique. Stand out from the crowd. I intend to have a monument in this Hall after I have gone to my eternal rest, wrapped in Fuma’s night-black tail.” I looked askance at the be-feathered old aesthete. Sir Ravenmad’s eccentricity seemed to be a self-conscious affectation .. but on the other hand, if it was a facade, it was one he never lowered. I had to admire his tenacity & dedication in wearing what must be an uncomfortable costume and behaving in odd, socially excluding ways all the time. At any rate, his poems were reputed to be quite good - and the king himself was fond of his paintings, so there was a certain legitimacy to this persona which he presented to the world. I made a mental note that when I was immortalized here in the Hall of Ancestors, it would have to be for Great Deeds, not some silly artsy shtick. ********************** Since Sir Ravenmad seemed to be pleased to talk to me about whatever I cared to discuss, I decided to ask him a series of questions. “How come the most beautiful elf ever to live was a fox, and not a skunk?” I asked, gesturing at the statue of Desiderata. “Pardon my saying so, Your Grace,” Ravenmad answered, “but skunks, though they be the ruling family of Albric Tor, have never been much renowned for beauty. It’s other traits that make a good ruler.” “What can you tell me about my parents?” I asked. “Your father, Gawain, is a good and gentle king, very deliberate and thorough in every decision he makes.” Roughly translated, he is a boring and wishy-washy king, I thought. “Your mother, Mavis, is a bit of a cipher. She was just one of the Palace housekeeping staff until she caught the King’s eye. I suppose she comforted him after the Queen’s disappearance … and you were born as a result.” “What about the missing queen?” I asked. “Ah, poor Persephone. She went out riding one afternoon with her maids, so the story goes, and she became separated from her party in the woods outside the Gate. They found her ant, badly injured, but nary a trace of our beloved Queen. Prince Estmere was barely a toddler, and the King was distraught with grief.” “Is Ravenmad your real name, or just something people call you?” I inquired. “What is a real name anyway, if not the one by which everyone knows you?” Sir Ravenmad answered, rather evasively. “Do you know anybody named Sheila Na Gig?” I mentioned offhandedly. “THE APOSTATE?? How do you even know of her?” Sir Ravenmad blurted in alarm. “I heard the name mentioned in a conversation once at the Palace, and wondered who it could be,” I replied evasively. This was true, but I felt a little dishonest in saying it. Still, it would probably not be wise to mention my mother in connection with such a scandalous character; even less the fact that I myself had met her. “Best not inquire into such matters,” Sir Ravenmad muttered darkly. “What do you know about the Old Crow and the swaplings?” “Quite a remarkable character, the Old Crow,” Sir Ravenmad explained. “Did you know he has a monument here in the Hall? I believe he’s the only lowborn to be so honored. King Adler granted him the privilege of living in Albric Tor, but he declined. He insisted he would be a much better agent in the lowfolk lands if he continued to live there. And he was quite a capable agent, although he didn’t approve of the new Changeling policy. Back in his day, a swapling had opportunities to better himself, but now … I suppose it’s for the best, but King Adler was steadfastly against the changes. Twas your father, King Gawain, on the advice of his best counselors, who instituted the new policy.” “What exactly is the new policy?” I asked. “People seem to get evasive when they talk about it.” “You’ll find out at the Ferifax Festival,” the poet muttered darkly. “Who exactly raised Estmere if he was a toddler when Queen Persephone disappeared?” "He was raised collectively by the ladies of the Court, much as you were,” Ravenmad explained. “But whereas you have your mother, his main caretaker was an old she-goat called Nan. A very stalwart, matronly type. Perfect for rearing an infant Prince.” “What exactly is, or was, the Order of the Mustache?” I asked, pointing at the memorial inscription directly to my left, which read: SIR GRAMPUS - KNIGHT OF THE ROYAL FRATERNAL ORDER OF THE MUSTACHE - MOST TRAGICALLY HARPOONED. “Heh heh, I see you’ve noticed Sir Grampus’s tomb there,” Ravenmad chortled. “The Order of the Mustache was one of the many frivolities sanctioned by King Sartorius the Dissolute. It consisted of a bunch of his cronies, idle noblemen who distinguished themselves by cultivating preposterous facial hair and performing ‘acts of valor’ followed by epic bouts of drinking and boasting.” I could think of no more questions to ask, so I thanked Sir Ravenmad for his time and began to thread my way among the monuments and out of the Hall of Ancestors. image Thinking on what Sir Ravenmad had told me, I decided that perhaps the Cathedral would be a good place to stop next. And Great Fuma! What time had it gotten to be? It seemed earlier now than it was when I came here. Had I been in the Hall of Ancestors overnight? *********** I paused for a moment to admire the front of the Albric Tor Cathedral. This was the place where Mephitism originated. From here Irenaeus spread the Word of Fuma to the heathen elves he conquered, expanding the Church and the Empire simultaneously. Above the majestic main portico hung the Holy Symbol, representing the four quarters of the known world overspread with Fuma’s Musk. It may also have been a symbolic depiction of the sacred fumarole that existed on this spot in the Long Ago. Ancient legends spoke of vapors escaping from the earth, which priestesses inhaled in order to have prophetic visions .. or, in some versions, they listened to the hiss of the vapor and mystically interpreted it. That fumarole supposedly existed somewhere in crypts beneath the modern Cathedral, but its power of prophecy had not been consulted in centuries. Fuma spoke by different means nowadays. Some irreverent souls whispered that the vapor no longer issued from the hole, but this was a thing not to be openly discussed. I went inside. image “Well, ‘pon my soul!!” Brother Matthew bellowed as soon as I entered. “Look who it is! Everybody’s favorite Royal Bastard! Fuma’s Blessings on you, Your Grace!” “Please, just call me Adler,” I quietly insisted. “As you wish, Your Grace,” he cheerfully exclaimed. image He grabbed me in the customary Headlock and administered a vigorous Benedictio Interphalangeal upon my scalp. This was one of the main reasons I did not much like going to Church… “So what brings a young Royal Bastard to the cathedral at such an odd hour on what is not a High Holy Day?” the monk inquired. “Brother Matthew, what do you know about Fuma’s Embrace?” I asked. “Why? You’re not worried about dying, are you? A young elf your age shouldn’t be preoccupied with such macabre thoughts … unless it’s a different kind of embrace you’re thinking of? Eh, you bold little scamp!“ He laughed heartily and blessed me again. My head was going to be sore after this visit! I decided to skip any further questions about the Afterlife, and instead see if I could find out something about the elves of old. “Do you happen to have any prayer-books or manuscripts from ancient times that I could look at?” I asked. “Preferably with pictures?” ”I think I know just what you’re looking for,“ he roared, conspiratorially. ”Just you wait here while I go hunt it down in the Scriptorium, and I’ll bring it out for you in a jiffy! Oh, and it wouldn’t hurt, would it, to maybe spend some time expressing devotion to the LADY while you wait?“ he added, with a nod toward the prayer rail as he ambled out through a side door. image I knelt and admired the gleaming walls and pillars of the sanctuary. In the Empire’s early days there used to be images of the goddess here, but a high-ranking iconoclast had them all destroyed during the reign of Athanasius the Intemperate, and it had been mainline Mephitism’s policy ever since to eschew any sort of representational imagery in its places of worship. I had heard that there were idols in some of the outermost provinces, but I had never seen one. To pass the time, I recited a prayer I had learned among all the other old poems & lore Dame Chitterleigh had taught me: ”Mighty Fuma, Luna Lutin, Thousand-Scented Moon / Fisherwoman, Huntress, Digger of Roots, Chaser of Men / Long-Whiskered, Sharp-Clawed, Monochromatic, She of the Luxuriant Pelt / I turn to thee for solace / Thy counsels are unerring / Deliver me from the time of trial / And scatter mine enemies before me / As the dust is blown before the wind / They flee blindly the cloud of thy Divine Vapour / Mighty Fuma, Luna Lutin, Thousand-Scented Moon.“ “That’s an old one,” Brother Matthew bellowed, suddenly right behind me. “You’re not planning on going into battle, are you?” I simply blinked at him, somewhat appalled that he would sneak up and listen to people’s prayers like that. **************** “I found the book you wanted,” Brother Matthew boomed, with a wink and a nudge as he handed me a hefty tome. “I’ll be in the narthex. Just let me know when you’re done perusing it.” image The book was written in an ancient script which I couldn’t decipher, but it was full of lavish illustrations showing comely young skunk-elves engaged in activities that made the Old Crow’s “Ruffled Feathers” pamphlet seem tame by comparison. Allowing for the archaic style of the illustration, the characters in the book looked pretty much like any elf of today. They all seemed perhaps a bit slimmer and more physically fit than was typical, but this may have simply been a bit of idealization on the part of the artist. They also seemed quite a bit more lascivious than modern elves, but then again that was in keeping with the subject matter. I doubted that there was any hidden, symbolic meaning to any of it. One of Fuma’s roles was the goddess of love and fertility and domestic bliss. That is clearly what was going on in these illustrations. After getting over my initial shock, I determined that the techniques depicted here would be redundant - if not completely useless - compared to my Wiles training. The elves in these pictures were mere amateurs! They seemed to be primarily concerned with pleasure and procreation, rather than power and influence. Yet Fuma was goddess of War as well as Passion. Hmm… It would bear further reflection… image The tolling of the Cathedral bell indicated that it was getting close to time for my lute lesson with Dame Chitterleigh. I must have been in the Hall of Ancestors overnight, after all! I peeked stealthily into the Narthex and saw Brother Matthew standing by the font, humming merrily to himself. It certainly would be sweet to sneak up and give him a surprise Benedictio, to get even for all the times he had done it to me! image As I approached, he leaned back toward me without even looking. BLAST! These Mephitist monks were far too canny! I rubbed my knuckles on his head and murmured something about Fuma showing favor to him. “Thank you kindly, Your Grace,” he thundered. “Done with the book already?” “Has my brother Estmere ever borrowed this?” I asked curiously, as I handed the book back to him. “Aye, indeed,” the monk chuckled. “His Highness the Prince shows a healthy curiosity for one his age.” “I too am healthy and curious,” I pointed out. “You monks study odors, so tell me … what fragrance is best for making a, um, favorable impression on ladies?“ ”Licorice and cedar,“ Brother Matthew stated flatly. ”You can’t go wrong with licorice and cedar. It’s manly, rugged, yet sweet and appetizing.“ "While I’m here,” I cleverly segued, “what can you tell about the Apostate?” “Which one, lad? We’ve had so many over the ages, it’s hard to keep track.” “I’ve heard about Lady Desiderata and Sheila Na Gig, and I was wondering what’s the Church’s official opinion on them.” image “Those were both rogue practitioners of Wiles,” Brother Matthew rumbled darkly. “Desiderata was never a Mephitist, I don’t think, so she couldn’t be considered an Apostate. Where did you even hear that? She was extremely long ago.” “Somebody told me her legend and it sounded interesting,” I admitted. “What’s Wiles?” “Wiles are supposed to be Fuma’s gift to womankind, to give females a bit of equal footing in our male-dominated society.” “Uh huh. I see. Well, what’s the story about Sheila Na Gig?” “It troubles me that you even know that name, Your Grace. Sheila was a Priestess of Fuma, oh, five or six generations ago. She hungered for power, and felt too constrained by the rules of her Order .. so she .." The monk paused and shuddered in horror, then continued: ”She contacted some forbidden entities, and began to blaspheme against the Goddess. Eventually she was accused of a multitude of crimes, and cast out .. but some say she still lives, lurking as a monster in the lowfolk lands.“ "That’s pretty horrific,” I acknowledged. ************* The cathedral bells began to chime the hour. Time to get to my lute lesson! “I’ve got to go,” I said. “But, um, do you happen to have any of that licorice and cedar cologne around?” That brought a mischievous grin back to the monk’s face. He pulled a small vial out of his robes and handed it to me. “Use it sparingly,” he admonished. “And always remember to thank Fuma for your success afterward.” image I thanked him and took my leave. As I strolled along the avenue, I contemplated the vial of fragrance. Considering my Wiles training, I did not think that I would actually need this stuff .. but perhaps, if indeed I was going to introduce Estmere to Utica the Huntress, it might be of some use to him. Assuming he didn’t have some already - which he might, since I knew from what the monk said, that Estmere had been to the Cathedral for something other than the regularly scheduled services. Then again, why should I help Estmere score with Utica? image My curiosity began to get the better of me. I unstoppered the vial and took a sniff. It was licorice and cedar all right, sort of sweet and woodsy. Even though elves do not lie, I was skeptical about this stuff really working as advertised .. But I could not think of a way to test it without actually using it. image I cautiously applied a small dab behind each ear, then tucked the vial into my Elfintory, and made my way to Dame Chitterleigh’s. image As I sat down and began to tune up my practice lute, Dame Chitterleigh leaned close to me and placed her hand on my shoulder. “Do set that thing down, Adler,” she breathed. “I would teach you something different today.” ************* “What sort of lesson do you have in MMMPH?” I asked. image Her reply, though unspoken, left me in little doubt as to her intentions. I concluded, further, that the cologne worked exceedingly well. “Dame Chitterleigh, are you trying to seduce your student?” I gasped. “What would your late husband say?” “Please call me Eudora,” she breathed, excitedly. “Jasper would have wanted me to live my life! I’ve mourned him long enough, and now you’ve grown into a handsome and charming young elf. Oh Adler, it’s been such a very long time since I felt this kind of desire for anyone!” My mind was racing. What exactly were the ramifications of this situation? I had known Dame Chitterleigh ever since I was old enough to hold a lute, but I didn’t consider her family. The Dame was much older than I, but elves age slowly and she was still very attractive. I could do a lot worse (Sheila na Gig came to mind as an example,) so I thought perhaps it might not be bad to, er, “celebrate the Mysteries of Fuma” - as they say - with her. BUT, there was the matter of the Huntress to consider. Utica, too, was attractive, and likely to present more of a challenge. Would she become jealous? Would a dalliance with Dame Chitterleigh spoil my future chances with her? Since my Royal brother was interested in Utica, it might be best to consider her “off limits” anyway … And then, hmm, what about the potential for scandal if news of the affair were to get out? Well, actually I didn’t think the Court particularly cared about any shenanigans of the Royal Bastard. In fact, if history was any indicator, they would probably be disappointed if I didn’t commit a few noteworthy indiscretions for them to whisper about. image An entire sub-discipline of the Wiles were designed to incite passion and perpetuate desire while withholding their ultimate gratification. I decided to use my training to take control of this situation, and postpone the crisis to some later time, of my own choosing. “My dear Dame Ch - I mean, Eudora,” I said, placing my finger over her lips. “I think I understand your desire, and I must confess I feel similar yearnings myself. However, we must not rush into this. I am to be in the Prince’s retinue at the Ferifax Festival, and I can ill afford such an engrossing distraction as you offer me - at least not until after I have discharged my ceremonial duty.” “Your conscientiousness does you credit,” she whispered, with mixed admiration and regret. “And it is undoubtedly wise to wait. Though I know not how I shall content myself til then.” “It’s only a few weeks,” I pointed out, encouragingly. image I strummed my lute and improvised a song: “How I yearn for my mistress And her tender kisses Each moment that she isn’t there; She’s my lady of choice With her sweet golden voice And shimmering honey-gold hair. I want to see more o’ My lovely Eudora; She’s elegant, slim, and quite fair. Her fingers so nimble Make Love’s lute-strings tremble As she plays and sings some ancient air.” Not bad, for just off the top of my head! image She deftly removed one of her lacy garters and handed it to me. “Keep this token of my desire,” she purred, “and let it remind you that, after the Festival, I shall initiate you into Fuma’s Mysteries.” ************** I deployed the Gentle Hand on the Cheek and gave her a tender, lingering farewell kiss. “See you again tomorrow afternoon?” she sighed. “Of course,” I replied. image I swaggered out of Dame Chitterleigh’s apartment with my mind in a whirl. This had gone much better than expected! There was now so much to consider! But first I needed to go home and wash this seductive scent off of myself before it caused any more trouble. image In the midst of my ablutions, my mother leaned into the doorway and said: “Eudora Chitterleigh is sweet and harmless. A dalliance with her might do you both a world of good.” HOW DID SHE KNOW THESE THINGS???!?? “You don’t have to look so shocked,” she continued, before I could even begin formulating a question. “It doesn’t require any Sinister Powers to figure this out. You are home extremely early from your lute lesson, and you reek of that silly Mephitist love potion. I assume Sheila did not tell you about it?” “No,” I managed to croak. “Well, I suppose she wouldn’t since it’s Church stuff and technically not a Wile, but still I consider that a serious omission.” She looked at me seriously. “Son, the cologne does nothing.” I gave her a goggle-eyed stare. “I mean, it has no inherent power. Fuma’s disciples have found it convenient to imply that the scent of cedar and licorice enhances a male’s attractiveness, because the belief does boost a male’s confidence. Meanwhile, the scent lets a female know that the male wearing it is In The Mood, thus giving her license to express desires which she may have been keeping hidden.” “So … then …” I floundered. “If Eudora threw herself at you this afternoon, it was - yes - a result of you wearing that cologne, but only because she was already interested. I would rather you didn’t use cheap Mephitist monks’ tricks though, because they leave you wide open for Wiles. A male who believes his charm is in a bottle can be easily manipulated. Remember your training; never let yourself be seduced.” I could only blink in astonishment. “That said, I repeat,” my mother reiterated, “Eudora Chitterleigh is sweet and harmless. Have fun with her. Your archery teacher, Utica, though … she could be dangerous. I’d advise you not to trifle with her.” “Actually,” I gulped, “Estmere is interested in her, and I was thinking about maybe fixing them up together.” “Oh yes, my son,” she chortled, somewhat disturbingly. “That’s simply perfect.” ************ “The Huntress will keep your half-brother distracted until after the Festival,” my mother explained before I could ask her exactly what she meant. “Don’t give Estmere the cologne. If he’s been borrowing books at the Cathedral, he may already have a bottle of it anyway. I would recommend you tell Utica to expect him first, then tell Estmere you’ve arranged an introduction. The idea of presenting it as a wager or contest is a good one, but you must make sure you do not win. You’ll have to work out the details of how to actually get the two of them together. The Prince has nowhere near the freedom which you have, to wander about Albric Tor as you please.” Um, where did she get the intel about the challenge I had given Estmere regarding Utica? I spoke of that only with my brother .. and I hadn’t discussed my hypothetical plans with anyone .. My mother was flat-out spooky sometimes! Whatever did my father ever see in her? “Your father was depressed and lonely, and I was there when he needed me,” she explained. “Okay, how in the Nine Netherhells is she doing that???” I thought, because I hadn’t actually asked the question aloud! “It’s a technique known as Elfmind,” she admitted, “and it’s about time you learned how to use it - and more importantly, to defend yourself against it. But first I want you to listen to the Voice of the Forest. When you can relay to me the message I have given for the trees to tell you, then I’ll teach you more. Now go find your brother and set your plans in motion.” I stumbled dazedly out the door. My long-held suspicion that my mother could somehow read my mind had apparently been true all along. As I strolled aimlessly down the street, I wondered where I might be able to find Estmere. He had said that he planned to inform the Cabinet Ministers about the spider army. That could be a problem. I couldn’t just barge in on the King’s Cabinet Ministers. One must either be royalty or have an appointment, and I was legally NOT royalty despite being a son of the King. I would have needed to petition six weeks ago in order to be granted an audience today. Most likely Estmere wasn’t in the Cabinet chamber anyway. He was probably in trouble for raising a silly alarm, as well as wandering outside Albric Tor without proper escort. In that case, where could he be? image First I tried the training yard back behind the stables. I could easily imagine Estmere here, stripped to the waist and taking out his frustrations by savagely pummeling the practice dummy .. but when I arrived, the yard was empty. I recalled tales of a horrible bureaucratic punishment devised by King Irenaeus, which involved massive quantities of crimson-hued ribbons, but I doubted that the Crown Prince would be subjected to it; not under the present spineless & wimpy administration. I decided to try out this Voice of the Forest my mother had told me of, and ask the tree if it knew anything. image I wasn’t sure how the Voice of the Forest was supposed to work, so I put my hand against the tree trunk and asked “Tree, where is Prince Estmere?” I was amazed to hear “Atop the wall” quite distinctly amidst a rustling of leaves. “Is there something my mother wanted you to tell me?” “Bring a basket of plums for supper.” That seemed like a rather mundane Secret Message from arch-schemer Mavis, but whatever. I made a mental note to pick up some plums at the market before heading home this evening. Now then … technically I was not supposed to be on the guards’ walkway atop the wall, but of course I had explored up there lots of times, so I threaded my way by circuitous and secret routes up to the parapet. ************* After about half an hour, I located my brother. He was holding a guardsman’s halberd, wearing a helmet instead of his usual coronet, and gazing resignedly off into the distance. “What in Fuma’s tail-fur are you doing here, Bro?” he whispered as I approached. “I could ask you the same question,” I retorted. “Uncle Roland was not amused by my report on the invading Spider Army,” Estmere groaned. “I copped to a bum kreplach and tipped the DV for a goose, so now I have to swag the blarney til the old man turns over.” “WHAT??” I boggled. “Oh, sorry, that was guardsman’s banter. The Marshal thought I was making a mockery of military intelligence with my absurd report - not to mention my indiscretion at wandering around unescorted - so he’s making me stand sentry, so I learn what it’s like to actually watch for real threats to the capitol.” “So what’s it like?” “Boring. And by the way, you do know you’re not supposed to be up here ..?” “I know,” I confessed. “Thanks for coming anyway, dude,” Estmere grinned. “How’d it go among the lower Court when you told them about the spiders?” “I didn’t tell them,” I admitted. “I went home and told my mom first, and I got lectured and sent off to the Hall of Ancestors.” "Sounds like you got off easy,” Estmere grumped. “Wait … why the Hall of Ancestors?” “The Old Crow has a monument there,” I explained. “He’s dead,” I added, after Estmere gave me a blank look. “Whaaat? How’d he die?” “The monument says immolated.” “That’s horrible,” Estmere shuddered. “I wonder if dad knows?” “You should mention it to him at your next opportunity and observe his reaction,” I suggested wryly. “Anyway, after I got back from the Hall of Ancestors, I got Romantically Entangled.” "Oh yeah? With who?” “A gentleman does not kiss and tell,” I parried. “But this means I’m willing to introduce you to Utica the Huntress, if you’re still interested." image I could tell by the look on his face that he was. "I have two conditions,” I stipulated. “First, buy me a basket of plums.” “What do you need plums for?” “I just do. And I need them before I go home tonight.” “Well, I’m on guard duty and I can’t leave the wall,” Estmere protested. “Fine, just give me some money to buy plums with then.” He dug a few silver coins out of his pocket and handed them over. “What’s your second condition?” “You have to kiss Utica before the Ferifax Festival. If you don’t, then she will be off-limits to you, and I will be free to pursue her myself.” “Wait a minute,” Estmere objected. “Didn’t you just say you were Romantically Entangled already?” “Yes, but I need to keep my options open in case this relationship doesn’t work out. And besides, I already know Utica, so technically I had first dibs on her anyway. It’s only fair.” “Okay, I guess,” Estmere conceded. “I’ll totally be smoochin’ her before the Festival anyway, dude, so you got yourself a deal!” I shook hands with my brother and left him standing guard & daydreaming atop the wall. I paused on my way out to thank the tree. Its leaves rustled appreciatively. Probably not many elves had bothered to talk to it in a long time. Now then. It wasn’t quite time for my archery lesson, but I didn’t have enough time to go get plums at the market, nor go home and fetch my bow. I decided to head to the archery range early, since Utica and I had much to talk about. image When I arrived, she was sitting on a bench with her bow unstrung. I suddenly realized I had no idea how to broach the subject of my brother with her. This was going to be harder than I thought. I waved lamely and said “hi.” “You’re early,” she said. “And where’s your bow?” ************** “Actually, I’d like to have a word with you before the lesson,” I told Utica, adding a subtle Eye Twinkle for emphasis. “You see .. well .. your beauty has shot a fiery arrow into a certain elf’s heart and he has been secretly admiring you for a long time. Would you be willing to go for a picnic with him tomorrow, just to see what he’s like? He’s handsome and closely related to the royal family.” image “If you desire a tryst with me, Adler, you need not use subterfuge,” she chuckled. “And why wait til tomorrow? We’ve time right now.” “Ah, no, my dear,” I protested quickly. “I’m afraid I was not quite clear. The one I speak of is, in fact, someone other than myself. He cannot meet you today because he is under obligations not to leave his post.” image “Who is it then?” Utica hesitated. “Surely not Marshal Roland??” “It’s my brother the Prince,” I explained. “Oh!” she sighed in relief. “Estmere! Of course … yes, he’s quite the hunk. I’ll meet with him if he wishes. Just tell me where and when.” I admit, I was a little alarmed at how easily she acquiesced. But then again, my mother did warn me about her. “I, er, have lots of arrangements to make on my brother’s behalf,” I continued. “And since I came without my bow anyway, may I be excused to go run my errands?” “Trying to weasel out of archery practice, eh?” Utica insinuated. “And I suppose this picnic will conveniently take place during your normal lesson time tomorrow too, is that it?” “That wasn’t my plan,” I protested. “I will come find you later to tell you the details of where and when to meet my brother the Prince.” “I’ll be here until nightfall,” she promised. I dashed around to the market and purchased a basket of plums, then headed home. This whole affair was beginning to take the form of an Elaborate Scheme, and I felt a strong need to ask my mother’s advice on the best way to proceed. image “Mmm, thank you for bringing them, Adler,” my mother exclaimed around a mouthful of plum. “It seems the trees have conveyed their message. Now .. tell me what I’m thinking.” “You’re thinking how delicious the plums are, and what a good, dutiful son you have.” “You’re just guessing,” she scolded. “Elfmind utilizes the same sense you used to hear the Voice of the Forest.” “I used my ears to hear the rustling of leaves,” I retorted. “A low-person would have heard only a rustling of leaves; no intelligible message such as you perceived. You must listen in a special way. I’m sending you a message very strongly so it’ll be easy to pick up.” I stared intently with all my concentration at my mother. “All I’m getting is the thought that I should not play chaperone on Estmere’s date with Utica.” “That’s the message!” my mother beamed. “Though you need to work on not making that face when you use Elfmind. You must leave the Prince and the Huntress alone so that ‘love’ may run its course unobstructed. The arrangements must be handled with utmost discretion. You are free to do as you please, but for the Crown Prince to romance a commoner would be a thing Greatly Frowned Upon. Besides, after the recent alarm with the spiders, his movements are probably going to be restricted and he may be closely watched. Banish all thoughts of getting the palace kitchens to prepare the meal. The bigger the production, the more attention it will draw, and the more likely someone in authority will put a stop to it. I will cook something simple but nourishing which they can bring with them. As for a place, I suggest the abandoned scrying tower which you use to sneak into the lowfolk lands. Few folk ever go there. You need to confirm these details with Estmere and decide on a time. In any case, it is your responsibility to relay the scheduling information to Utica and to me.” *********************** I climbed back up to the battlements to find my brother standing there, staring off into the distance. He didn’t look like he had moved from the spot where I had left him earlier. He certainly did not have the air of one who was ever-vigilant for threats to the Capital. image I paused for a moment, since Estmere hadn’t yet noticed me, and tried to recall the feeling of Elfmind … and I got a sudden barrage of mushy, slightly lewd imagery involving a version of Utica which only vaguely resembled her. I wasn’t sure whether to snicker or gag as I shut off my Elfmind again. I almost wished I hadn’t looked. “Bdah huh??” Estmere flinched when I tapped him on the shoulder, interrupting his lascivious reverie. “Utica the Huntress has agreed to go on a private picnic with you. Are you going to be busy tomorrow?” “I don’t think so,” Estmere opined. “Uncle said I’d only have to stand watch til dawn.” “You’ll want to rest when you come off duty, so I’ll arrange for the picnic in late afternoon. You must tell no-one. It’s important to be discreet.” My brother eagerly nodded in agreement. “I will procure victuals,” I continued. “I think if we cancel my archery lesson we can guarantee that Utica will be free during that time, so all that remains is to find a place where you’re unlikely to be discovered. How about the old scrying tower where we sneak out to the low lands? Nobody goes there.” “Um,” Estmere muttered. “I think that might be a problem. When I gave my report about the spiders, they asked me how I got outside Albric Tor, and I had to tell them about the tower. It’s likely locked and under watch now.” BLAST! That was an unexpected complication. “How about the Hall of Ancestors?” I suggested. “It’s quiet, and has a certain air of mystery.” “No good,” Estmere objected. “It has a dismal air of death. Totally not romantic. Plus, I know that creepy Sir Ravenmad likes to while away his afternoons there, for ‘inspiration.’ And isn’t there a Docent who roams around in there and guides visitors? What if he finds us?” “I didn’t meet any Docent when I was there,” I mused. “But your point is well taken. Do you have any suggestions?” “I can only think of places inside the Palace, and the risk of discovery there is too great.” “I’ll see what else I can come up with,” I said as I scurried away. I briefly considered setting their picnic in the woods outside the Gate, but concluded that would NOT be a very wise choice, because - never mind the difficulty of sneaking the Crown Prince out through a gate that was now probably guarded - anything that happened would be directly observed by the trees, and anybody else who could hear the Voice of the Forest could then discover the whole affair. I would not have been a bit surprised if Marshal Roland had the ability; and if not, he had some elves on staff who could do it. No, I needed an indoor location. I decided to ask my pal the tree if it had any ideas. image “Tree, where is a good place to picnic unobserved by anyone, including the trees?” “Tower” it rustled in reply. “No, I can’t use the tower, because the Marshal has someone watching it. I need a different place.” “Tower.” “I just said the tower’s no good. I need somewhere else.” “Tower” it insisted. Well, that wasn’t as useful as I had hoped. I hurried home to ask my mother. “Well?” she asked as soon as I came in. “That was quick. Is it all set up?” “Estmere blabbed about the tower, and it’s probably under surveillance now so we can’t use it,” I gasped. image “Fuma’s Bodice!” she groaned. “This is a difficulty.” “I asked the tree if it knew of another place, and it just kept saying 'TOWER’ over and over again. Is there no other private spot in all of Albric Tor?” “By Her undulant stripes, that’s it!” my mother exclaimed, with a snap of her fingers. “There is a second scrying tower, to the South of the capital. The Office of Definitive Veracity sealed it long ago - before your grandfather’s reign, I believe. No one would ever think to look there .. and even if it is locked, it is said that the Office’s wards will open to an elf with the proper Talents.” “Do you think I can open it?” I asked. “Have I the Talent?” “The only way to know that is to go and see for yourself.” ****************** “Wait, why is that tower sealed? Is it cursed or something?” I asked. “The West tower isn’t locked. Estmere and I have snuck through there lots of times.“ "It was probably sealed to prevent what Veracity would consider Unauthorized Entry,” my mother replied. “This probably means the tower is still operational, or at least it was when the DV sealed it.” “What’s the deal with that anyway?” I inquired. “Is there still an Office of Definitive Veracity?” “That’s a fascinating story,” my mother said, with a faraway look in her eyes. “Definitive Veracity was established by Thorwald the Cautious - who also codified into law the ancient Elvish custom of truth-telling. The Office gathered and verified information for centuries. They developed the scrying towers in order to more perfectly carry out their duties. Over time, the towers fell into disuse due to a lack of elves with skills sufficient to operate them. At the beginning of the reign of Adler the Prudent, the DV was officially dissolved and its function was taken over by the intelligence branch of the Army. Rumor has it that the Office was dissolved because it knew too much and posed a threat to the crown … but most likely it succumbed to a lack of qualified personnel, just like many of our grand and ancient institutions. The only way to know for sure would be to read Marshal Roland’s confidential files - but those are locked up even tighter than the old scrying towers.” Burning with curiosity by this time, I took leave of my mother and set out for the South tower. image It looked a lot like the West one, except it was a bit more overgrown, and had a different roof. image The West tower had four gables, but the South tower had a plain pyramidal roof. Both bore a lightning rod at the peak of the roof, and a strange bowl-shaped object mounted on the far side where it was difficult to see clearly. I was rather surprised to have never noticed this tower before, especially since it was clearly in view of the Hall of Ancestors and the West scrying tower. Probably it was shrouded in elaborate magicks designed to make people ignore the tower. This, of course, would make it an ideal trysting place. I used Gramarye to check for enchantments, and sure enough, the whole structure was seething with elaborate webs of enchantment, woven into patterns too complex for me to decipher. I tried listening to the Voice of the Forest, but the nearby trees were strangely silent, and the ivy festooning the structure was too stupid to have any thoughts beyond “engulf it and pull it down.” At a loss for anything else to try, I reached out and turned the doorknob. image Much to my surprise, the door opened. From what my mother had told me, I expected it to be locked. ********************** I stood in the doorway for a moment, cautiously listening and feeling the air. The atmosphere here was almost crackling with magickal energy. The chamber here in the base of the tower looked very similar to the one at the West tower, but it felt completely different. There were a few physical differences, as well. To my right was a blank wall - but the West tower had a doorway there which led through the Gate into the lowfolk world. image And in the opposite corner there was a spiral staircase leading up through a hole in the roof. The hole appeared to be covered with wooden planks. The West tower had a similar hole, but it was not covered and its staircase was gone. I carefully ascended the stairs and pushed against the wooden cover. image Again, to my great surprise, I found that the cover was not secured. I lifted it aside and emerged onto a sort of patio on the roof of the chamber below. It seemed to be in pretty good shape. The only signs of neglect were some vines growing over the balustrade, and some weeds sprouting up between the flagstones. The actual scrying tower stood implausibly cantilevered off the edge of this patio. Its door looked stout & in good repair. Charmed by the appearance of this patio, I thought that it might serve well as a location for Estmere and Utica’s picnic. image I started to whisper commands for the vines to burst forth into beautiful blooms, to set a romantic mood, when I remembered that this location was clearly in sight of the trees. They may be keeping mum now, but there was no guarantee that someone well versed in the Voice of the Forest couldn’t find out later what they had witnessed. I also realized that a bunch of vines blooming out of season might draw attention, despite the “ignoring magick” that seemed to protect this place from general notice. Aside from all that, there was one more door I needed to check … just to make sure this location was safe. If the scrying tower was still active, then this location could be scried, and I needed to ascertain - well, honestly I was just curious. There was nothing to lose, especially since this door had to be the one that the DV had locked so many years ago.. ******************* I tugged halfheartedly on the door, expecting it to be locked - but much to my surprise, it opened. image Inside was a tall, narrow square room which was dusky and dark in spite of the huge soaring windows in all four walls. The height was impressive, but something seemed amiss. I could not actually see anything through the windows; just a diffused glow. I also did not understand why my mother thought this place had been sealed. None of the doors were locked; I was able to barge right in unimpeded by any sort of locks or wards. For a moment I thought that perhaps there was nothing important here, after all. image But then I looked down and saw a bookcase full of heavy-looking tomes. Next to it was a pedestal, and on top of the pedestal - floating just above it, to be precise - was a strangely glowing orb with a set of metallic rings slowly rotating around it. This object was definitely the focus of all the magick in here. Being a little wary of the obviously still-active thaumaturgical device, I first examined the bookshelf. Many of the book spines were labeled in Old Elvish script which I could not read. Some of the others bore titles such as: Scryinge for Dummyes Tippes et Technicks for More Effectyve Tower Operation Secrettes Soothes, Being a Recorde of Sundrie Observationns (several volumes, labeled with numbers apparently from some sort of filing system) Basick Elements of Thaumaturgickall Mechanicks image I opened a few of them, but some appeared to be written in code, and others were full of incomprehensible diagrams and technical jargon. Even the one “for Dummyes” seemed as if it would require an advanced degree in Thaumaturgy to understand. I carefully placed the books back on the shelf in the order that I had found them. ************** After nosing through the books, the only thing left in the room for me to investigate was the strange hovering orb. I crouched down next to it and peered at it intently. It made no sound; its encircling rings had been so carefully placed that they did not touch each other as they rotated. I thought about using some magick on the orb, to see what it would do .. but there was already so much energy flowing through it, I decided that tampering might have unexpected (and therefore unpleasant) consequences. So instead, I peered at it some more, with all my concentration. Nothing happened. I asked it questions. It did not reply. I poked it with my finger. image And suddenly the tower chamber vanished, and I seemed to be standing on a vast, featureless flat plain. The sky was blank & cloudless. The air was perfectly still. I couldn’t tell if the horizon was miles away, or just a few feet. This vision lasted for just a few seconds, and then just as suddenly, I was back in the scrying tower. image The glowing orb was gone. Its orbiting rings lay in a disorderly pile atop the pedestal. I could no longer sense the feeling of powerful magick coursing through the room. image I tried picking up the rings, but some invisible force retained them in the space above the pedestal. I could lift them vertically with ease, but it was impossible to remove them from the column of air which contained them. It looked as if I had no choice but to leave them there. This was probably not good. Could my tampering have set off an alarm? It was remotely possible that Marshal Roland, or someone under his command, might still be monitoring this facility. After all - it was not locked, as my mother had assumed it was… *************** I eased out of the tower, carefully shutting the door behind me as I whistled casually. Perhaps the trees would be convinced that nothing was wrong. I hoped nobody else was watching … If Estmere and Utica were to have their tryst here, it would have to be in the lower chamber. I mounted the stairs, carefully replacing the wooden cover back over the hole, and thinking what sort of decorative touches the room might need, to give it a romantic feeling. image I stopped. That archway had definitely not been there before. I reluctantly acknowledged that I was going to have to investigate, simply to make sure this was a safe place for the Crown Prince to be unguarded and alone with a lady. image Although the archway looked dark, the passageway extended just a short distance before opening into the circle of stones in the lowfolk forest. This was interesting. It meant that multiple portals on the Faerie side must all connect to this single Gate in the lowfolk world. I wondered, if I stepped completely out and then back in, if I would come back through the same portal I had left, or be deposited somewhere else entirely. Trying the experiment, I found myself back in the lower room of the South scrying tower. I imagined that there must be a way to manipulate this mechanism in order to access different portals, but now was not the time to look into that. I was on a mission, and I needed to report back to my mother to figure out my next step. ************ “Mom!” I yelled as I entered our apartment. “You’re not going to believe it!” She folded up a piece of paper she was reading and gave me her full attention. “The tower wasn’t locked at all. The doors opened easily, and there was a glowing orb in the tower, and when I touched it I saw a vast empty space for a second, and then the orb disappeared and the magickal aura went away, and a portal to the lowfolk lands opened downstairs where there hadn’t been one before!” My mother grinned a grin of deep satisfaction. image “It’s as I hoped,” she chortled. “If the tower wards let you enter, it means you have the Talent. You’ll be able to learn how to get the device working again eventually. This is excellent news, my son. Right now, however, it is doubly important that you get your brother embroiled in an affair with the Huntress. He must be completely smitten with her before the Festival takes place. This is vital!” I was taken aback by these cryptic remarks, as well as the spooky expression on her face. image I tried to probe her thoughts with Elfmind, in an attempt to find out just exactly what was going on in that devious brain of hers. “Don’t make that face when you’re using Elfmind,” she thought. “It’s a complete giveaway.” “Why is it suddenly vital that Estmere be besotted with Utica?” I demanded. “Earlier you told me she was dangerous. What are you up to?” “The Huntress is dangerous to you,” my mother replied. “She is Wily. Have you forgotten that Wiles are a woman’s techniques for making a man’s will her own? You must never let yourself be controlled, Adler! Always you must be your own master!” “So you want Estmere to be controlled by her instead? I don’t get it.” image “The Prince must be deeply distracted by the time the Festival takes place.” She waved the piece of paper. “I’ve received a message which greatly increases the urgency. Despite attempts to delay her, it now appears that Zandar Skönk may arrive on time with the other changelings.” “Who?” I asked. “She is a skunk-elf of noble blood, the daughter of an Earl, a distant cousin of the King. Her family settled on the far Northeastern frontier many generations ago as part of a colonization effort. The Court plans for her to be Estmere’s bride. You must keep them apart at all costs. If possible, you must marry her yourself.” I goggled at my mother in silent astonishment. “While I’m on the subject,” she continued. “You must not pass through the archway at the Festival, and you must also prevent Zandar from doing so.” *************** “Why must I avoid passing through the Ferifax arch?” I asked, mystified. image “You and Zandar are pure untainted Elf stock,” my mother explained. “Passing through the archway at the Ferifax Festival will taint you with the stolen essence of lowfolk swaplings.” “How?” “Your father agreed to an evil bargain which your grandfather would never have allowed,” she continued. “As you know, our population is dwindling. During Adler the Prudent’s reign, attempts were made to interbreed with the lowfolk. It was hoped that their vigor and organic vitality would be transferred to us, but the program was unsuccessful. Certain alchemists and advisers of the King hit on a scheme in which lowfolk swaplings could be sacrificed and their vital essence harvested. At the Festival, this essence is magically transferred to the returning changelings. The result is an increase in vitality, and a presumed - but unproven - increase in fertility. But the side effects include a drastically shortened lifespan, a dramatic decrease in intelligence, as well as a tragic near-complete loss of magickal power. This plan forfeits all that makes us Elves, our honor and our power, in exchange for a potential increase in our birth rate. There are many in Faerie who do not believe the cost is worth the benefit. King Adler refused it outright, but your father does not have his scruples.” “That’s awful,” I whispered, horrified. “But I still don’t understand why I should prevent Estmere from meeting this Zandar. If they’re betrothed then isn’t it a good thing for them to marry and perpetuate the Royal Family?” “I know this is confusing, Adler, but you must know that Estmere is not fit to rule. He isn’t a true elf. His mother was among the first generation of these abominable half-elven Crosslings.” “What exactly happened to Queen Persephone, anyway?” I asked, suddenly reminded of the story of her mysterious disappearance. "Kidnapping and assassination are not my department,” my mother affirmed. “I’m sure Sheila Na Gig orchestrated Persephone’s disappearance, but of course there’s no proof. I was embedded in the Palace to seduce King Gawain, and I would have succeeded whether the Queen was around or not. Her vanishing only made my task easier.” “So ..” I murmured, with dawning horror, “was I just a pawn in your elaborate scheme to steal the throne from its rightful heir?” “You are part of the plan, but let me be clear on several points. First, no matter what motives led to your conception, you are my son and I love you. Second, it isn’t my plan. There are many elves involved at different levels. The Sisterhood is doing most of the work because we are better placed to put the plans into effect, but it concerns more than our own interests. The future of Elfkind is at stake. Third, there will be no ‘stealing’ of the throne. You are properly in line of succession, after your half-brother and Marshal Roland. If all goes well, you will attain the throne legally and without dispute. Then you will abolish this horrid practice and restore the honor of the Elves. You are the true future King of Faerie. You have noble blood, and power, and your fur is gloriously white like the great King Irenaeus. This in particular we all saw as a good omen.” “You keep saying ‘we’,” I observed. “Who are your co-conspirators in this sinister scheme?” “They are many,” my mother evaded. “You’ve met Sheila, the leader of our Order. There are other agents in the field, most of whom will never cross your path.” “What if I don’t accept this crazy destiny you and your secret cabal have planned out for me?” I asked, angrily. “As I said,” she calmly replied, “your will must be yours alone. Let no-one control you, not even me. However, I trust you will see that this is the right course, and you will choose it for yourself when the time comes.” “What’s to stop the King from remarrying and producing another heir?” I asked. “The Royal line must marry nobility in order to preserve the legitimacy of their heirs. The King cannot marry a commoner, and there is a scarcity of eligible brides. Besides, he’s getting old now. He is relying on Estmere to provide grandchildren and carry on the line.” “But, if heirs have to be of noble blood, where does that leave me? You’re not of the nobility, are you?” “No. But you will inherit the throne because you are the King’s son, and there will eventually be no-one left who has a better claim. Assuming,” she added, significantly, “that Prince Estmere has no children of his own.” “So that’s why you’re so interested in setting him up with Utica,” I said, as it slowly dawned on me. “Correct. He can beget no children on an ungulate woman. Utica will Wile him into submission so you can woo Zandar and found your own dynasty with her.” **************** I gulped nervously. Knowing the horrible truth about the lowfolk swaplings suddenly made everything different. Horrible crimes were being perpetrated in the name of Elvish survival - without even properly achieving that objective! It was shameful. How could I hold my head up high and be proud of my Elfhood anymore? “I didn’t want to burden you with this knowledge until it was absolutely necessary,” my mother sighed. “You’ll have to act normally and keep your mind hidden. This knowledge can be dangerous if the wrong people realize you know.” “I still don’t feel right about betraying Estmere,” I complained. “You aren’t betraying him,” my mother explained. “He wants to dally with the Huntress, remember? It’s simply fortuitous that his desire coincides with our need to prevent him from producing heirs. I know his tainted blood is not his fault, but that doesn’t change the fact that he is an abomination. For the good of Elfkind, we cannot afford such luxuries as pity and compassion.” “I still don’t see what this will accomplish,” I protested. “Sure, so he has a fling with Utica .. when it’s over, the Court will compel him to marry.” “The Court will have difficulty finding a suitable mate for him if you claim her first,” my mother pointed out. “Besides which, the Huntress will make sure it is more than a mere ‘fling’ for Estmere.” “What about Great-Uncle Roland? Wouldn’t his children be ahead of me in line for the Throne?” “Kings’ brothers have traditionally been discouraged from having children,” my mother informed me. “It keeps the line of succession much tidier. Less chance of civil war if there is only one clear heir. Besides, the Marshal never seemed inclined to marry; the army has been the love of his life. That, and food. But don’t let his age and his corpulence fool you. Marshal Roland is incredibly shrewd and resourceful; all in all, a dangerous opponent. He is undoubtedly opposed to the lowfolk policy, but he is absolutely loyal to the Crown. We have not been able to determine whether he would support our cause, so he has not been counted as an ally. Nobody is sure just how much he knows. His intelligence network is vast; he has his fingers in every pie. Sometimes literally.” “Can’t we do something about the swaplings?” I pleaded. “Isn’t there a way to rescue them? Are they being held somewhere?” image “Alas, no, it’s too late to help them. They were slaughtered as soon as they arrived, and their essence has been magically stored in readiness for the Ferifax Festival. It saddens me to think of this reprehensible treatment. In the old days when the swaplings’ indenture was over and the changelings returned, they were free to go - or stay - if they wished. Most chose to stay. Some, like the Old Crow, even learned our ways and lived among us almost as equals.” “I’ve heard stories that we used to eat them,” I remarked. “Perhaps certain savage and Unseelie elves cooked and ate lowfolk,” my mother replied, darkly, “but this practice has long been illegal in the Empire. Fuma explicitly condemns it in Scripture.” “When I am King,” I proclaimed, “I will destroy that arch and stop the slaughter of lowfolk children!” “That’s the idea,” my mother beamed. “You will make us all proud.” “When will the changelings arrive, and where will they be?” I asked. “I should be there to greet them if I’m to spot Zandar before Estmere does.” “That’s not going to be possible, I’m afraid. Have you forgotten you’re supposed to be with the Prince’s retinue for the Festival? The changelings don’t usually arrive more than a day in advance, and they are sequestered until the Festival begins. You’ll have to be resourceful. We can work on these plans as the day approaches. For now, you have another mission. Set up the tryst between Estmere and the Huntress.” ****************** Once again I made my way up onto the battlements. “Okay, it’s on,” I whispered to my brother. “Where do I meet her?” he grinned excitedly. “The lower floor of the South scrying tower,” I answered. “Whoah, um, hello?? The tower is being watched, doofus.” image “Not that one,” I said, pointing at the South tower. “The South tower is clean, empty, and unguarded.” “Oh. Whoah,” Estmere blinked. “I always forget that one’s there.” “Precisely. The old Definitive Veracity put a spell on it that makes people ignore it, which means it’ll be a perfect place for you to meet Utica in private.” My brother’s grin widened and his eyes sparkled. “I can hardly wait,” he said. image I didn’t really want to look again, but my curiosity got the better of me. My brother was still fantasizing about an increasingly inaccurate version of Utica, and I briefly glimpsed, via Elfmind, a moment of his daydream in which the Utica demanded that he kiss her. I quickly closed Elfmind before I could see anything else, and bid my brother good-night. After that, I scurried over to the archery range, where Utica was still waiting. I told her the date was on for tomorrow afternoon in the bottom of the South scrying tower (the one everybody always forgets about.) image “Good choice of location,” she smiled approvingly. “Do I need to bring anything?” “There will already be a picnic basket stashed there, so all you have to bring is yourself.” “I’ll be there,” she declared. Then I hurried home, where my mother had an assortment of preserves and non-perishables (nuts, dried fish, cheese sealed in wax, wine) packed & ready in a basket. “Best take this to the tower now,” my mother said, “so you won’t be seen anywhere near it tomorrow .. just in case.” image And so, I hustled back out to the tower, as quickly and stealthily as I could. I stashed the basket there and then hurried home again. BY FUMA!! What a busy day this had been! After dinner I went to bed early, and fell asleep almost as soon as my head hit the pillow. ************** That night I had a weird dream, in which Estmere had Sir Jerkycorn’s head. He was sitting happily on the floor of the flat, empty scrying space, seemingly unaware that Sheila Na Gig had him in her evil clutches. Sheila brandished a knife and kept chanting “Royal Pumpkin Pie, Royal Pumpkin Pie.” I tried to shout a warning but my voice wouldn’t come out, and I floundered helplessly as if swimming in the air. My mother leaned close to whisper something in my ear but I couldn’t understand what she was saying. And there were ants drifting like clouds across the sky, far far above the plain. In the morning I asked my mother what it meant, and she just shrugged. “You have a lot on your mind,” she explained, “and your subconscious is trying to process all that new information.” After breakfast, I briefly pondered my future. “Mom, what does Zandar Skönk look like?” I asked. “How will I recognize her when I see her?” “She will probably be the only skunk among this batch of changelings,” my mother replied. “According to what I’ve been told, she is very attractive, mostly black with a white stripe that runs through her mane. She’s also quite wilful and perhaps a bit naughty.” image I tried to visualize her from that description, and could only come up with something that was a combination of my mother and Dame Chitterleigh. Still, not bad! I looked forward to meeting the real Zandar. In the meantime, it seemed I had a duty to sow some of my wild oats (as the saying goes) before being committed to a Noble bride. Why should Estmere have all the fun today? I moseyed over to Dame Chitterleigh’s place at the usual time. She settled coyly on the sofa, and I made my move. image “Oh Eudora,” I murmured, twining my arms around her and kissing her neck. “I know I asked you to wait until after the Festival, but being in your presence makes forbearance seem impossible! Your beauty, your gentleness, your fragrance, they fill me with passion!” “Adler!!” she sighed. “I should resist this temptation and hold you to your earlier convictions .. but … OH, don’t rely on me to be strong!!” ********************* Ahem. I think it might be best to pass over my .. interactions .. with Eudora Chitterleigh, and progress to the next set of significant events. Let me see .. I recall that during those weeks I was intensely curious about the scrying towers. I already knew that they had been a project of the Office of Definitive Veracity, which meant that if I wanted to find out more, I would have to intrude into Military Intelligence, which was my great-uncle Roland’s domain. The Marshal was a bit scary, and I assumed he probably wouldn’t tell me anything. Asking those kinds of questions would surely raise his suspicions! I might have been able to find out something from reading the books in the tower, but ever since their first date, Utica and my brother had been there practically all the time. Any moment Estmere could sneak away unobserved, he was in that lower chamber with her, snogging or whatever it was they did. I did not want to intrude. It looked like I would have to wait to learn anything about military-grade scrying. However, I could - and indeed may have been expected to - pester my brother for details about his new relationship. image I managed to find Estmere in one of the corridors. He was staring out the window dreamily. “So, how’s it going?” I asked. “It’s great,” he murmured. “She’s great. She’s awesome. I am totally in love with her, and when I come to the throne I will figure out a way for us to marry.” “Yeah … um,” I floundered. “I guess that’s a positive goal.” For some reason I did not feel good about this state of affairs. My discomfiture reminded me of another problem that had been bothering me: The Ferifax Festival was coming up, and I felt completely unprepared. I had been stymied in my efforts to learn any details about the Festival because access to the Grounds was restricted while preparations were being made. “Listen,” I continued, “the Festival is coming up fast, and I have no idea what I’m supposed to do or where I’m supposed to be.” “Relax, bro,” Estmere sighed. “You’re part of my retinue. You just stand with me and the Cabinet, and then when we precess, you precess with us. I greet the returning changelings, and you just smile and bow.” “Maybe you can be nonchalant,” I retorted, “but you forget you’re the Prince, so whatever you do is automatically right. I’m not allowed to just wing it.” “Of course not, dude, you’re not an avian.” “It means,” I continued, exasperated, “that I can’t get away with improvising. If I breach protocol or flub something I won’t be summarily forgiven the way you would. What if I precess at the wrong speed, or go the wrong direction, or stand in front of somebody I’m not supposed to stand in front of? For my own peace of mind, I need to know the layout and the basic order of events that are supposed to happen during the ceremony.” “Look, Adler, I don’t have the time to walk you through all of this. Take my chit.” He handed me a small blue card. “This will let you into the Festival Ground and you can talk to the elf in charge of planning. Sir Evan Klive will give you more details than you could possibly want.” image Estmere’s chit got me into the Grounds, where I immediately spotted a nattily-dressed fox-elf pacing and checking things off a list. This HAD to be Sir Evan. He looked like he was in charge. “Sir Evan, I was wondering -” I started. “No,” he responded, instantly. “But I haven’t even -” “I am terribly busy and I haven’t time to instruct young Bastards in procedures they should learn elsewhere.” He tilted his nose to peer at me through his spectacles. “How did you get in here?” “His Highness the Prince instructed me to find you, as he also claims to be too busy to inform me of my duties.” Sir Evan sighed and shrugged his shoulders. “Can you make yourself useful? Whatever of my time you waste, I’ll expect you to make up in work.” “Can I help decorate the arch?” I asked, pointing to a conspicuous free-standing arch perched over an elevated causeway which connected to a porch on the side of the palace. The arch was partially wrapped with dried Ferifax fronds. image “Can you fly?” Sir Evan asked, as an avian landed atop the arch with a bundle of fronds. “No.” “Then you cannot help Otis decorate the arch.” “Well, I’m ready to make myself useful anyway,” I babbled cheerfully. “What do you need me to do? Where do the changelings come in? Which direction do they go? Are any of them here yet? What’s the arch for anyway? How many changelings will there be? Where does the Prince’s retinue stand? Where will the public be? Who’s invited to this shindig anyway?” Sir Evan shook his clipboard and sneezed vehemently. “You know what?” he barked. “Otis and I have these arrangements well in hand. I think you’d be most useful, Your Grace, helping out the Hospitality Staff with their preparations. Go through there and down the stairs into the kitchen. I’m sure Miss Grainmaster can find some work for you, and she should be more than happy to answer all of your questions.” *************** I made my way into the kitchen. It was hot and steamy in there. The air was full of smells - some appetizing, some not so much. A gang of elves in domestic uniforms were bustling about, chopping ingredients and stirring pots. image “DUKE ADLER!” a diminutive mouse femme accosted me. “What in Fuma’s name are you doing in my kitchen??” “I’m here to help out,” I explained. “In exchange for information about the festival, as no-one seems willing to tell me exactly what I’m supposed to do on that day.” The rodent looked strangely familiar. “Aren’t you Eudora Chitterleigh’s maid?” I asked. “Heather, right?” “The name’s Meadow,” she corrected. “I’ve been temporarily assigned here to manage hospitality for the arriving changelings. I’d be glad to have your help; every pair of hands makes a difference. But first, Your Grace, a word.” She beckoned, and I leaned in close to hear what she had to say. “You have made my mistress very happy. She has a twinkle in her eye that I haven’t seen for years.” image “But know this.” She brandished a spoon at me to punctuate her point. “If you ever intentionally hurt Dame Chitterleigh, you’ll answer to me - King’s son or not.” “My dear Miss Grainmaster,” I suavely asserted, “I assure you, my fond feelings for your mistress would never permit me to intentionally cause her pain.” I gave her a sample of my very best Eye Twinkle to demolish her defenses and convince her of my sincerity. It was surprisingly ineffective. Meadow scowled and pointed her spoon at me again. “I’ve got my eye on you, you young Lothario,” she growled. “Your misgivings about me are unfounded,” I protested. “But anyway, I am here to help and also to learn about the Festival. What exactly is expected of me, as part of the Prince’s retinue?” “You’ll assemble outside the Festival Grounds after all the guests have arrived,” Meadow explained. “Just make sure your trousers are buttoned and your fur is freshly brushed. When the musicians start to play, the retinue will precess through the crowd and up onto the palace porch. Match their pace and stay between whomever was placed on either side of you when you queued up outside. After that, just stand and watch the changelings come in. Bow politely when they walk past you. That’s all you have to do.” “About the changelings,” I pressed. “Where will they enter the Grounds?” “They will come in through a door directly onto the raised promenade,” Meadow answered. “They will pass through the arch, across the porch in front of you, and down the steps to join the assembled elves on the Grounds.” “Where are the changelings lodged and how do they get from there to the promenade? Have any of them arrived yet?” “Why do you need to know that?” Meadow asked, suspiciously. “I, er, well,” I floundered, tugging nervously at my collar. “This is a rather delicate matter.” “I pride myself on my discretion,” Meadow assured. “Well .. one of the changelings is to be my brother’s fiancee, and I need to get a message to her.” “I see,” Meadow reflected. “Should I consider this an Affair of State, then, Your Grace?” **************** “Well .. its outcome may have political repercussions,” I admitted, “but this is really a personal matter. Quite simply, the future King of Faerie wants to know more about his possible future Queen.” I inwardly congratulated myself for crafting that misleading - yet entirely true - statement. “Not only the fate of the realm,” I persisted, “but the happiness of young hearts is at stake! Will you help me?” “The changelings are sequestered until the festival,” she stated flatly. “They are not supposed to communicate with anyone. It will be difficult to get a message to any of them, let alone the Lady Skönk. What’s my recompense for taking the risk?” “You tell me.” image “Oh, um …” I pointed at the pot on the stove. It was beginning to bubble thickly and release thin wisps of smoke. “ARGH!” Meadow squeaked in alarm. “I’m sorry, Your Grace, but if you are going to hang around in this kitchen you must make yourself useful, and NOT be a distraction. Here.” She handed me the spoon. “Stir that!” she commanded, pointing at the pot. “And don’t stop til I come back to check on you.” image While I stirred, I pondered. It might be worthwhile to ask around about Meadow, but on the other hand, I didn’t want to seem nosy. Anyway, I was supposed to keep stirring this pot, and the rest of the kitchen staff seemed much too busy to talk to me. What kind of promise could I make? What could I say or do to make the mouse trust me? Any earnest avowal of my sincerity would probably only make her more suspicious. Elves don’t lie, so there was never any need among us to swear oaths. Never mind the fact that we usually lived long enough to make such binding promises extremely inconvenient; it just wasn’t good form. Not the Elfly way. Far from convincing Meadow of my seriousness, oath-swearing would most definitely raise her suspicions. She already thought I was up to no good regarding her mistress, Dame Chitterleigh. I decided it would be best just to play it cool. She certainly was taking a long time to do .. whatever it was she hurried off to do. I started to get bored. I stared into the pot, and sniffed the steam rising from it. What exactly was I stirring anyway? It smelled bland. image I scooped up a spoonful and tasted it. Some sort of thin vegetable broth. Not much flavor to it. Definitely needed something. I looked around on the table behind me for some spice jars. image I found a can of something that smelled right, and sprinkled it in. I stirred the soup and tasted it again. Slightly better! I looked around for something else I could add. ************* Before long, the scent of my concoction had drawn the attention of some of the kitchen staff. I started calling for ingredients and they eagerly fetched them, chopping them and helping me add them to the soup. Everyone was standing around watching me cook (and sampling my creation) when Meadow returned. image “Why are you all loafing??” she squeaked imperiously. “The changelings are only a few days away and there are still many preparations to be made.” “His Grace is a natural-born chef,” my new friend Horace explained. “He has transformed this pot of stock into a hearty, delicious stew!” “WHAT??” Meadow squeaked in alarm. “We need that stock to make noodle bowls for the Wednesday arrivals!” “Just taste it, Chief,” Horace insisted, as he ladled out a small cup of stew and handed it to her. Meadow sniffed it dubiously, then took a sip of the broth. image “Great Fuma’s black iron kettle!!” she exclaimed, licking her lips. “This is amazing! All it needs is a few cups of minced mushrooms, and it would be PERFECT! Your Grace, I think you may be a natural born Stewmaster! How much of your time can you give me? If you can repeat this success, I’d like for you to contribute some dishes for the dormitory menu .. perhaps even the Reception Banquet.” Ah yes .. this was just what I needed to weasel my way into the event staff’s confidence and figure out some way to communicate with Zandar. I eagerly accepted Meadow’s proposal. image They gave me a mob-cap and an apron. I rolled up my sleeves and got started chopping vegetables and sauteing meats, which I added to a huge stew cauldron. This was the most fun I’d had outside of Dame Chitterleigh’s bedchamber! And the results were going to be enjoyed by many more elves! Once my stew was assembled to my satisfaction, I left it to simmer while I tried my hand at a few other dishes. My meatballs were tasty and my pasta was palatable, but it seemed my true strength was in my uncanny mastery of stews, soups, broths, gravies, and sauces. image But alas, my souffle collapsed, my pudding was lumpy, and my cake … well, the less said about my cake, the better. “Don’t fret, Your Grace,” Horace consoled me as I despondently surveyed the ruins of my souffle. “We can’t all be great at everything. Like Meadow said, you have the makings of a legendary Stewmaster. I never thought I would see anybody assemble a stew so deftly as you, and working entirely on intuition! Remarkable! It is truly a gift from Fuma. So what if you’re not a dessert chef?” ***************** After spending the whole afternoon in the kitchen, I still had not discovered a way to get a message to the changelings. I did come up with a novel idea for making noodles in the shape of letters, but it would take too much time and be far too obvious. I discreetly inquired how food was to be delivered to the dormitory. “The changelings are strictly quarantined,” Meadow answered. “Dishes are transferred between the kitchen and the dormitory via a dumbwaiter, in order to prevent exactly the kind of shenanigans you young scamps are contemplating. I’m afraid His Highness Prince Estmere is going to have to wait until the Festival to talk to his betrothed.” Drat. This was turning out to be a greater challenge than I had hoped. As the day drew to a close, Meadow dismissed me. “Go home and get some rest, Your Grace. The night shift will keep an eye on your stew, and you can check it again tomorrow.” image “MOM!” I yelled as soon as I got home. “Great news! I’ve secured a place as a Novice Stewmaster in the Festival kitchen! Now I just have to figure out a way to get a message to Zandar before the Festival starts.” “How did you get into the kitchen?” my mother asked. “That whole area is Restricted.” “Since Estmere is too besotted with Utica to explain the procedure to me, he gave me his pass, so I could ask Sir Evan Klive what I’m supposed to do.” “That’s good news about the Prince,” my mother observed. “What did Sir Evan tell you?” “Nothing. He was quite rude, and shunted me off to the kitchen. But the kitchen boss is Dame Chitterleigh’s maid, and she was quite helpful! And I made an amazing stew, so she wants me to help cook for the Dormitory, and she might help me communicate with Zandar.” image “You asked her about Zandar?” my mother exclaimed, with a look of alarm. “Well, I was subtle. I said the future king wanted to talk to his future bride … and because I did have Estmere’s blue chit which let me into the Grounds, she would naturally assume that it was he who …” “Oh no, no,” my mother groaned. “Oh dear, Adler, you have placed us all in jeopardy. None but the highest Court officials are supposed to know that Zandar Skönk is intended to marry the Prince. That information is classified. Neither Zandar, nor even Estmere himself will have been told yet. They are to be introduced after the Festival.” “Uh …” I floundered. “You can be sure the Marshal has agents watching the Festival preparations. If he learns that you’ve been asking questions regarding something which you have no business knowing about, then I’m afraid you have put us all in a stew of trouble!!” ************** I was extremely tired from cooking all afternoon, but I found I could not sleep. Distressing scenarios kept running through my head. Surely the Marshal wouldn’t send a squad of goons to yank a young elf out of his bed in the middle of the night! Or would he? There had to be a way to defuse this situation. If only I had more time, perhaps I could start an underground campaign of rumor so that everyone in the Capital would know that Estmere was to marry Zandar .. but the Festival was only a couple of days away! As I tossed and turned, I tried to persuade myself that maybe everything would be fine. Meadow was the only one who knew, and she did say that she prided herself on her discretion. Hmm, actually that was a bit vague. Did it mean she wouldn’t tell? Or did it mean she would discreetly confide in everyone she met? I didn’t know Meadow very well, but I realized I could find out all about her through her mistress tomorrow. I made a mental note to visit Dame Chitterleigh as early as I reasonably could .. strictly for information (and okay, maybe a bit of pleasure), but not for solace. Relying on a lover for emotional support was a classic way to fall victim to the Wiles. Suddenly I realized something. image “GREAT FUMA’S GLISTENING FANGS!!!” I gasped, sitting up in bed. I had just recalled… Although I never mentioned the name of the Prince’s fiancee, Meadow referred to her as “Lady Skönk.” How did she know that, if the information was classified Top Secret? Meadow must have high-level security clearance; therefore she must be the Marshal’s agent monitoring the Festival preparations! After realizing this, I was at last able to fall asleep. The next morning, I sauntered over to Dame Chitterleigh’s place. She was delighted to see me. image After some vigorous interaction, I told her: “I can’t stay long today, darling. I’ve secured a position on staff in the Festival kitchen. Turns out I have a natural talent for soups and sauces. Would you like for me to bring some of my special stew? It’s quite delicious.” “Not as delicious as you, I’ll wager,” Eudora giggled. “But yes, I’d love to sample your culinary creation. Since I’ve had to loan Meadow to the Festival kitchen, it’s been mostly take-out from the Officers’ Mess for me. I grow weary of the succession of uninspired meals.” “Is Meadow often required for outside assignments?” I inquired casually. “Oh yes. Her skills as a cook and administrator are much in demand. Thanks to my Widow’s Pension I am always compensated for her absences, but sometimes it’s dreadfully inconvenient to have one’s personal maid called away on short notice.” ************ An Aside While her son was off cavorting with Eudora Chitterleigh (“Fuma, I hope he doesn’t become infatuated with her!”) Mavis MacFogg pondered the present situation. image Mavis began formulating a plan that would throw suspicion onto Meadow Grainmaster - whom she suspected of being one of Marshal Roland’s special agents. Of course the allegations wouldn’t stick, but perhaps it would provide a distraction so Adler could act when he must. The Ladybird arrived promptly in response to Mavis’s signal. image “Adler’s position is compromised.” Mavis explained. “He let something slip to the mouse maid.” “Thy son certainly is a wild one. I thought these young bucks only went for the servants after the upper class ladies rejected them.” “That’s not what I meant,” Mavis scowled. “He barged into where he shouldn’t have been, and said something he shouldn’t have said, and now the Marshal is probably aware of a major part of our plans. Do we know anything more about Ms. Grainmaster?” “Her record is clean,” the Ladybird replied. “TOO clean. As in magickally scrubbed. She must be an agent, but there’s no way to prove it.” “Any word on Zandar?” “No word. That could be a good sign; she hath not been spotted anywhere since I filed my report. It could mean that Sheila hath detained her.” “That would greatly simplify matters,” Mavis nodded. “But we must proceed on the expectation that she will arrive in time for the Festival. I need for you to plant some evidence.” “It would be my pleasure,” the Ladybird grinned. **************** At first I thought I was just being paranoid, but after I left Dame Chitterleigh’s place, I glimpsed a shady-looking character following me. So .. instead of heading straight toward the kitchens, I wandered around town for a while … and every time I looked back I saw that rumpled hat and high-collared cloak ducking behind a pillar or just around a corner. Yep, this guy was definitely tailing me! I wished at that moment that I could disappear, but alas, invisibility is a very advanced Magick. I had, at this stage of my life, been able to make beans and coins go invisible for up to five minutes at a time, but to make myself invisible … a moving target, at my mass? It would take a lot of power! And going invisible while someone was watching?? Well-nigh impossible! I had not trained for such a feat. Of course there was POOKA VANISH, a legendary spell that was often used by the Elves of Old to escape from awkward situations. But there was no confirmed record of any currently living elf having mastered it. image I recalled having read a little bit about an Eastern theory of “Method Magicks.” This was as good a time as any to try out an experiment! I concentrated with all my might on the most inconspicuous object I could imagine: A mushroom. I never noticed them! I focused on being as unnoticeable as a mushroom. Nobody notices mushrooms. Nobody notices me… “Fuma’s Musk!” someone cursed behind me. “I look away for just a second -” There was a sound of running feet - image - and the cloaked-and-hatted goon ran right into me! My mind was a jumble as I fell to the ground and then tried to disentangle myself from this Agent. Nobody could be so oblivious, dimwitted, and clumsy! It was an obvious ploy to distract me and/or plant something incriminating on my person. As soon as I could get up and get away, I was going to have to empty my pockets and do a thorough self-examination. I also thought it would be quite gratifying to treat this lummox to some fisticuffs in return for his insolence, but I didn’t know the first thing about hand-to-hand combat. I decided to settle on berating him instead. “What is the meaning of this unwarranted assault on my person??” I loudly demanded as I rolled free of the Agent’s entangling cloak & limbs. image There was no response. “Hey,” I continued. “Hey you! Yeah, YOU! Hey! Hey mister! Are you okay?” The goon seemed, to all appearances, to be dead. Merciful Fuma!!! I hardly touched him! Suddenly, getting out of here and/or hiding seemed like an excellent idea. ***************** In a way this was actually kind of impressive - what with me being able to defeat an enemy with such surprising ease - but this was no time to gloat. I had an Ostensibly Dead elf lying in the street here! I couldn’t just LEAVE him lying here! It would be a scandal as well as a mystery, and the Marshal’s detectives would surely hunt me down! image I considered dumping the body in the river, but unfortunately the river was across town, and I would surely be noticed dragging a corpse over such a long distance through the streets and alleys. I thought about rifling his pockets, but the longer I hesitated, the more likely that someone would come along and see me. I did not want witnesses to be able to say they saw me frisking the corpse. It also wouldn’t do me much good to go get help, because someone else could find the body while I was gone, and then I’d be returning to the scene of the crime. I looked forlornly at the Agent while the realization sank in that my best option was to stay here and wait for the inevitable consequences .. when suddenly another realization came over me. This guy was an opossum. image I held the Agent’s jaw shut and pinched his nose. In a few moments he opened his eyes and said “*Mmmgg!*” as he swatted my hands away from his face. image “Have you no respect for the dead?!?” the possum yelled indignantly. “You were only faking!” I yelled back. “Oh, so you were trying to kill me then, is that it??” “Who are you, and why are you following me?” I demanded. “All I can tell you is .. GLURK!” ******************* Was the possum Agent playing dead again, or had he actually succumbed to some fatal condition? image I carefully prodded the “dead” goon and listened to his chest. His heart was beating and he was breathing - the big faker! I pondered how to get him out of it. If I did the same thing I did before, I was likely to get the same result, but I didn’t have time to hang around here! This numbskull could probably play dead all day, and I was expected at the Festival kitchen. Perhaps it was time for a change of tack. I assumed that if he was a spy, the last thing he would want was a lot of attention; so I decided to make a scene. image “HEY!” I yelled. “Can anybody hear me?? HELP! This gentleman has collapsed and I think he needs medical attention! Does anybody know the Crotch Punch of Life? It’s looking like an emergency here!” image “Psst!” the possum hissed. “Hey kid, cool it! Knock it off! I’m okay, see?” “Pretending again?” I impugned. “I’m so confused by all of this. A shady character following me? Then he runs into me and pretends to be dead?? Do you have any idea how scary and upsetting that is? Why is this happening to me? I just want to get to the kitchens and cook stew; at last I’ve found something I’m good at and maybe the Court will finally acknowledge me, and now THIS??” image I punctuated my lament with an extra-heavy dose of Sad Puppy-Dog Eyes. “I though my life was starting to turn around, but I’m still just the Bastard aren’t I?” I wailed. “Strange people can play pranks on me, and nobody seems to care how I feel.” “Aw, come on, kid - I mean, Your Grace,” the possum floundered. *********************** I laid it on thick, with a hefty helping of Crocodile Tears. image “Can you believe I’ve never even met my father or my illustrious great-uncle?” I sobbed pathetically. “Her Eyes, Your Grace,” the possum commiserated. “That’s awful. I had no idea they treated you like that.” “Have you ever met the King?” I sniffled. “Can’t say that I have.” “How about Marshal Roland; what’s he like?” “Fat, mostly,” the possum shrugged. “I’ve only met him briefly, so it’s hard to form more than a superficial impression.” I sniffled and wiped my eyes on my sleeve. “Listen, I’m sorry I lost my cool for a minute there. I really do need to get to the Festival kitchen. I’ll be working with Meadow Grainmaster - do you know her?” “Why would I know anything about a cook?” the possum retorted. “Miss Grainmaster has lots of connections because she is often called upon to head up catering for major events here in the Capital,” I explained. “Did she ask you to check up on me? I didn’t take anything from the kitchen, I promise! All those missing ingredients are there, in the stew pot!” “Kitchen inventory problems are no concern of mine,” the possum scowled dubiously. “And I don’t care how many highbrow parties she caters, I don’t take orders from a cooking wench.” image “Then …” I recoiled in horror. “This isn’t about the ingredients? If Meadow didn’t send you then I don’t know why you’re following me, and in that case … you ARE a scary, mysterious stranger!” I started hyperventilating. “Now hold on, Your Grace,” the possum started. “I shouldn’t talk to strangers!” I blurted. “And since I’m a Bastard, you won’t get much ransom for me!” “Oh come on,” the possum protested. “I work for the Marshal. I have no intention of kidnapping you. If you really must know, there’s some sort of suspicious plot suspected to be going on with the Ferifax Festival, and I’ve been assigned to watch you to make sure you stay safe. So you see, your great-uncle cares about you, whether you know it or not.” “REALLY?” I gasped. “Wow, it’s such a relief to know that your intentions are benign.” “Sure thing. My name’s Lemuel O'Possum, by the way. Agent Inspector Third Class. I’m with the Office of Internal Affairs. You can call me Lemmy.” image “Glad to know you, Lemmy,” I said, shaking his hand. “I’m Adler Fitzgawain, Minor Duke. You can call me anything, as long as it isn’t ‘Hey Bastard’.” “Heh heh,” Lemmy chuckled. “You’re all right, kid. Well, I’ve gotta get back to work … tell you what; I’ll give you a head start.” He gestured magnanimously to indicate that I should start walking. “See you around!” Lemmy called out with a wink as I proceeded toward the next cross-street. I turned the corner and immediately concentrated my mind on the evasive subject of Mushrooms. image A few seconds later, Lemmy rounded the corner and paused to survey the street. “Fuma’s Tail!” he muttered to himself. “That little guy sure moves fast. Now where’d he go?” ****************** On further reflection, it seemed sort of pointless to hide from Lemmy if he already knew where I would be. Oh well, at this point I had already done it. After he shuffled down to the end of the street, I calmly made my way to the Festival Grounds, since that is where I said I was going. Elves do not lie. image Sure enough, just before I got to the Grounds, I spotted Lemmy lurking around a corner. I waved a friendly greeting, and he gave me a strange look. He seemed remarkably unsneaky for a secret agent. If his job really was to keep me safe … I didn’t actually feel very safe knowing Lemmy was on the case. I moseyed through the Grounds, past the arch (now 80% festooned with Ferifax fronds) and into the kitchen. I found Horace stirring my stew cauldron. I was just about to exchange convivial greetings when suddenly Meadow appeared, brandishing a spoon with marked vehemence. image “YOUR GRACE!” she squeaked. “Day shift started hours ago! Where have you been??” “I, uh..” “If you’re going to help out around here, I need to be able to rely on you to actually BE helpful. Instead I am down a man because I had to set Horace to tend your stew.” “Actually I’m honored to -” Horace started to admit. “Quiet, you!” Meadow squeaked imperiously. “I’m sorry, Miss Grainmaster,” I apologized, “But I didn’t know what time I was supposed to report.” This was true, and probably the least risky thing I could admit. I thanked Horace for covering for me, as I donned my mob cap and apron and took over stirring my stew. In between bouts of stirring, I circumnavigated the kitchen, peeking at the various other dishes being prepared. I found some Ferifax fronds scattered on the floor near the door. Out of curiosity, I picked one up and brought it back to the stove. Everybody knew that Ferifax was flammable, but I had always wondered just how flammable. I held it over one of the burners. image The frond combusted with a sudden “FLOOMPF!” “That better not be Ferifax smoke I smell!” Meadow yelled from somewhere across the kitchen. Her voice sure carried well for such a small person… I quickly stamped out the smoldering frond, and turned my attention back to the stew. Time to taste a spoonful. image MMM! Simmering overnight had brought the flavor to perfection. ************** “This stew is ready,” I announced to the room in general. “Good,” Meadow replied, popping up next to me, as if from nowhere. “Some of the Changelings are here already, and ready for lunch. Serve it up!” image I ladled out my creation into some bowls which Horace lined up on a nearby counter. I was tempted to try something, but Meadow was standing there, watching me like a hawk. A short, grumpy hawk with big ears and buck teeth. Clearly she wasn’t going to let me get away with anything. image “This stew has a lot of ingredients in it,” I mentioned, in a desperate gambit. “Can all the changelings eat this? Do any of them have dietary restrictions?” “As long as there’s no lowfolk baby meat in there, it’ll be fine,” she said, in a deadpan voice. I blinked at her in astonishment. “Just a joke, Your Grace,” she said, but without smiling or changing her tone. “I’d dearly like to see their reactions to this when they taste it,” I admitted, with unfeigned excitement at the prospect of meeting young elves my own age. “We’ve covered that already,” Meadow sighed. “The changelings are sequestered. No contact until after the Festival.” “What about notes?” I asked. “Could we write up a questionnaire asking them how they liked the stew? Isn’t there a menu for them to request dishes?” “No notes, Your Grace. No menu either. They eat what we send them, or not, according to their taste. I’m afraid you will have no opportunity for any youthful shenanigans whatsoever. We will know they liked the stew if it all gets eaten. Now put those bowls on a tray and follow me.” She led me to the Dumbwaiter. image Meadow pulled a lever on the wall, and the dumbwaiter door slid open. I put the tray of stew on the platform inside. I just had time for a quick glimpse, but it looked big enough to fit inside, if I curled up tight. It wouldn’t be very comfortable, and I wouldn’t want to be in there for a long time. I stepped back and Meadow operated the lever again. The door closed, and I heard the dumbwaiter depart with a rattle and a slight whooshing of air “Enjoy the stew, Changelings!” I yelled at the dumbwaiter door. image “Do you think they heard me?” I asked. “Probably not,” Meadow answered. ******************* “This seems like a pretty elaborate set-up,” I observed. “What happens if this dumbwaiter breaks?” “It won’t,” Meadow asserted. “How many changelings are there?” I inquired. “Six? We put six bowls in the dumbwaiter. Does that mean there’s only six changelings?” “I don’t know. We sent six bowls because that’s how many the dumbwaiter will hold,” Meadow explained. “It’s still early. More may be arriving.” “Should I fill some more bowls then?” I offered. “I fixed a whole cauldron…” “I’ll have somebody else portion out the remaining stew,” Meadows said slowly, as if thinking out loud. “Unless their taste buds have been destroyed by lowfolk food, the changelings are going to want more of your stew. Since it takes a day to make, you’d best get started on another pot now.” I threw together another batch of stew and stood there thinking as I stirred it. I really needed to warn the changelings about the ignoble fate that awaited them, but I wasn’t sure how to go about it. This was proving to be difficult! image I thought that perhaps I could try to cause pandemonium in the kitchen and then use the distraction to sneak over to the dumbwaiter, but the dumbwaiter was in a very visible spot; hard to sneak up to when there were people in the kitchen. Also, this plan felt like something Meadow would see through almost immediately, especially if she was an Agent. Thinking about Agents reminded me of Lemmy. I didn’t see him anywhere in the kitchen. He probably didn’t have access to the Festival Grounds. No doubt he was waiting outside and would start following me again when I left. If I could get hold of the bowls - or even better, the spoons - after the changelings had eaten with them, then I might be able to work some psychometry spell to glean sensory information. Objects carry impressions of the people who have handled them. Although I had never actually done this, it was a well-known magickal theory, and I ought to be able to figure it out. For that matter, it might be possible to encode a message into my stew using the arcane Language of Flavors. I remembered reading that it was possible to be very specific with this technique, according to an ancient routine known as “Eat Your Words.” However, messages of this type usually came out extremely unappetizing. Plus, my risk of discovery would be increased a hundredfold if I made a message that was too easily understood. Best to stick with the savory, subtle emotions, and hope that one of the changelings was perceptive enough to pick up on it. Blast! I wished I had thought of this earlier. I briefly pondered sabotaging this stew and starting a new batch, but … image I … just … COULDN’T bring myself to destroy a work of art! It would be an unforgivable crime. Plus, my mother raised me not to waste food. I spent more time pondering the intricacies of how exactly to phrase my message in Flavors. I wanted the message to be intelligible, but also wanted to prevent anybody from accidentally discovering it if - for instance - any of the kitchen staff were to happen to taste it. Hmmm… Perhaps instead of using the Language of Flavors, I could do something simpler .. I reflected upon my Wiles training, and it hit me. I could infuse the stew with traces of my scent, along with a subtle desire for more. Then I could lay a trail of scent-marks from here to a meeting place, perhaps through the Palace Underworks. image I waited until nobody was looking, and quickly dropped a pinch of my own fur into the pot. As I stirred it in, I quietly whispered a few phrases of Gramarye over the simmering stew. ***************** I approached Meadow, who was standing near the dumbwaiter. “My stew is safely simmering now, and doesn’t require much attention,” I explained. “Is there anything else I can do? Wash dishes maybe?” “Help yourself,” Meadow said, pointing at a washtub next to a pile of dirty pots and pans. I started scrubbing, occasionally crossing the kitchen to stir and check on my stew. Before too long, there was a whoosh and a rattle, and the dumbwaiter returned with six empty bowls, which Meadow added to my pile. This was it! The Moment of Truth! I picked up a bowl and a spoon and quietly commanded them to show me the elf who ate from them last. I concentrated … image … and I saw a brief vision of a stern-looking young male eagle spooning stew into his beak. I was excited to get a sneak preview of the changelings. Finally, there would be some other elves my age around here! I could hardly wait to meet them in person. I picked up another bowl and spoon, and repeated my trick. image I got a vision of a sultry young vixen. She seemed to enjoy the taste of my stew. No skunk maidens yet, though. I tried again on another bowl. image This time I perceived a cute lil’ raccoon child. She seemed very young compared to the others I had seen so far. I noticed that I was not getting any impressions of the Changelings’ surroundings. Apparently the dishes could only show me the elves who had touched them, not the room they were in. I tried another one. image A myopic mole-elf really relished my stew’s hearty aroma. This was fun! I picked up another bowl and spoon. Maybe these were the ones that Lady Zandar used? image “What in Fuma’s blessed name are you doing, Your Grace?” Meadow squeaked, interrupting my visionary trance. ************* My mind raced as the visionary fog cleared. I had to come up with some kind of answer! Elves do not lie, but by then I had learned that we can be ambiguous. image “I’m just trying to visualize the changelings,” I admitted, enthusiastically. “I wonder what they look like, you know? I’ve never met anyone my own age, except for my brother the Prince, and to think … at this very moment they are somewhere nearby, just a short dumbwaiter ride away. They held these bowls … these spoons … they ATE from them! They ate MY stew that I made for them! And look! LOOK at how clean this is! I haven’t even washed it yet! They licked up every drop; that’s how much they must have liked it! Oh, I can hardly wait to meet them!” I giggled hysterically and brandished the dishes at Meadow. image “Your Grace …” Meadow reflected, “I think perhaps you’re overwrought. Why don’t you take the afternoon off and get some rest. Your next batch of stew is all put together, as you say, and I think I can spare Horace to check on it and stir it occasionally. … yes, you come back in the morning after you’ve had a good night’s sleep.” “Okay,” I agreed, somewhat reluctantly. “Oh hey, has all of last night’s stew been served yet? I told Dame Chitterleigh I’d bring her some.” image A few minutes later, I was heading out of the kitchen with a tiffin can full of stew. To put my plan into effect I would need to gain access to the lower levels underneath this part of the Palace. Up above, on the causeway, Sir Evan Klive was directing Otis as he put the last few Ferifax fronds on the arch. I paused to listen in on their conversation. image “Check thickness,” Sir Evan said. “One and three-quarters,” Otis replied after a brief pause. “Frond density?” “Six per inch,” Otis called. “Okay,” Sir Evan said as he made a mark on his clipboard. “Last bit coming up. Looks like we will be done a bit ahead of schedule.” ******************* I didn’t think I would be able to stand and listen to that boring conversation for much longer. I had work to do! From what little I had seen of the Underworks, it consisted mostly of passageways and drainage conduits. There was probably all sorts of stuff down there, if I was curious to explore. I was, in fact, curious to explore. I also had a plan which involved leaving a scent trail for the changelings to follow. It was time, therefore, to check out the Underworks. Luckily, there was an entrance just across the Festival Grounds. Unluckily, to get there I would have to cross an open area where Sir Evan and Otis were sure to notice me. image With a quick prayer to Fuma for luck, I concentrated on mushrooms, and crept across the Grounds .. without attracting the least bit of attention. This was turning out to be a handy trick! I glanced around for Lemmy, but didn’t see him, which reinforced my assumption that he did not have access to the Festival Grounds, and therefore must be waiting for me outside. Oh well, too bad for him. The possum would just have to find me when and how he could. Right now I had some scent to spread! image I descended the stairs into the Underworks and closed the door behind me. Assuming that the changelings were somewhere nearby, this was the closest door leading outside … so I guessed I had better mark it. I leaned on the door and rubbed my head & face vigorously against its planks. Next I needed to get my bearings and determine which way to go from here. image My heart skipped a beat when I turned and saw Sir Ravenmad standing there. How long had he been watching me? “I, uh,” I stammered. “You see, well ..” “You need not explain, Your Grace,” Sir Ravenmad solemnly intoned. “I understand completely. One cannot always get to the Hall of Ancestors, can one?” “What are you doing down here?” I asked, as my heart rate and breathing returned to normal. “I could ask you the same question, Your Grace,” he answered, with a Significant Glance. “Oft for poetic inspiration I like to wander these corridors beneath the city, to revel in solitude whilst the workaday urban hubbub bubbles above.” “You know the Underworks well?” I inquired. “Indeed. I could tell you much of their history, from the first tunnels dug by Brunel’s crews in the Long Ago, down to the latest additions in the early days of your grandsire and namesake.” “Are the, uh, changelings housed down here somewhere, by any chance?” I hazarded. “OHO! Quite the curious young rascal, aren’t you?” Ravenmad laughed mischievously. “The location of the changelings’ dormitory is a Secret, Your Grace.” “Oh,” I said, visibly crestfallen. “BUT,” Ravenmad continued with a wink, “I can guide you to something which may interest you a great deal.” image The befeathered eccentric led the way, and I followed through a bewildering series of twists and turns. I quickly lost my bearings; fortunately I had been stealthily swishing my tail against the walls and floor as we went. Hopefully this would leave enough of a scent trail to follow back to the door which led up to the Festival Grounds. As he walked, Sir Ravenmad recited a version of _The False Cavalier_ with which I was unfamiliar. A fumb'ling at the latch, A turning of the key, And silent, in her ravisher doth sneak. In her throat her breath doth catch: “Ah, woe is me, For know I that my true love’s hinges squeak.” As the ballad went on, the story was very similar to the one I knew, but the phrasing was somehow *off.* This version made it seem almost like Ceinwen fell in love with her bedchamber door rather than with the Cavalier… How odd. ******************* Suddenly Sir Ravenmad stopped. He bowed and gestured toward a strange space where several passages met. Numerous doors had been built here, apparently in different eras of Albric Tor’s history. “This is the Minor Confluence, Your Grace,” Sir Ravenmad reverently intoned. “Many ways meet here, but it is - at present - seldom used. You shan’t be disturbed.” Then, with a rustle of feathers, he vanished down one of the corridors .. leaving me standing, bewildered, in the Minor Confluence of the Underworks This seemed like it would be an excellent meeting point for the Changelings, if I could figure out a way to help them escape. But first I thought I should determine where some of these doorways led. I didn’t know much about doors. Some of these were obviously older than others, but I wouldn’t have been able to pick out the newest one, let alone guess where they all went. I jiggled a few handles, and discovered that most of these doors were locked. The ones that weren’t locked led into dimly-lit passages. Before I started exploring random passageways, I was going to need some way of marking my trail. I looked around for any loose debris which I might be able to arrange in patterns, but the Underworks was surprisingly clean. There were no loose stones nor dirt nor debris anywhere in sight. I dug in my pockets to see if there was anything I could use. I had Estmere’s blue chit which granted me entry to the Festival Grounds, and Eudora Chitterleigh’s lacy black garter, which I had been carrying for luck. image And I also had a handful of .. what was this? It appeared to be dried-out crumbly bits of mushroom. I remembered putting some mushrooms in my pocket back when I visited the Hall of Ancestors, and then I must have forgotten about them. That was weeks ago. These clothes had been washed a few times since then, and the mushrooms must have been in the pocket the whole time. Well, they probably weren’t useful for anything else by now … image I left a small pile of mushroom crumbs in front of the newest-looking unlocked door, and commenced exploring the passage beyond it. The passageway twisted and turned a bit, but did not fork. The floor got wetter and wetter as I proceeded. It ended in a small chamber with a small well or pool in the center, and a ladder built into the wall. I placed the stew can in a safe-looking spot, then climbed the ladder and emerged … *********** Unbelievable. After traveling all that distance and climbing the ladder, I couldn’t believe I would wind up at exactly the same place. But, there was my pile of .. Wait a minute. If those were mushroom crumbs, I wouldn’t have spotted them so easily. Would I? I listened carefully, and sniffed the air. It smelled like soap. And I heard water dripping. Could this be the changelings’ washroom? I climbed out of the elfhole and looked around. image The walls were tiled, and there was a towel bar with a towel hanging on it. This seemed promising! And it was pretty cool that they let the changelings use Royal linen in their washroom. image “YAAAAH!” Estmere yelled, clutching his towel and scrub brush. “Adler, you scared the crap out of me! What are you doing in here???” image I could not help but snicker at the ladylike way he draped his towel around himself. “Nice towel, Your Highness,” I guffawed. “What, do you have mange on your chest or something? The Mephitist monks probably have something to treat that.” Estmere glowered at me as he adjusted his towel. ************** “OW!” I yelped as my brother tackled me. “At least put some clothes on before you manhandle me, you perv!” “You’re the perv,” he retorted, “sneaking into my bathroom like this.” “Well, I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to,” I protested. “And anyway it’s no fair picking on me! You know I can’t defend myself.” “Yeah, it’s no fun beating up on such a weak little wuss,” Estmere observed as he let me loose. “You know, you could teach me some self-defense if you really want to scrap sometime.” “No chance. It’s against Imperial Policy or something, to teach battle skills to younger brothers and bastards. Especially bastards.” Estmere started to pace the other side of the washroom. “You didn’t tell me how you got in here or why,” he continued. “Well, I’ve been working in the Festival kitchen with Meadow, you know, Dame Chitterleigh’s maid,” I explained. “And I got curious about the Underworks, so after my stew was put together I went down there, and I found a Confluence, and I picked an unlocked door to see where it went, and it came up here in your washroom. I think this constitutes a serious security breach. You might want to have someone look into it.” image “Yes,” Estmere muttered. “I should probably call this to the attention of Uncle Roland. Though it seems like the sort of thing he would already know, and have locked down. HMMM..” While my Royal brother was thinking out loud, I surreptitiously pocketed the pile of what I assumed were nail clippings. This was a potent ingredient if one wished to cast a spell on the person from whose body they came! To this day I still do not know what compelled me to pick them up, but I did. “Why were you in the Underworks again?” Estmere asked. “And how exactly did you get down there in the first place?” image Before I could answer, the Palace was rocked by a loud explosion! “What was that??” Estmere and I exclaimed in unison. image We dashed to the window, where I rather enviously observed that Estmere had quite an impressive view over Albric Tor from his bathroom! We could see a plume of smoke rising from somewhere just outside the palace wall. “That’s right next to the Festival Grounds!” Estmere exclaimed. “MERCIFUL FUMA!” I yelped. “I have friends working there! We’ve got to go investigate, immediately!” ***************** “I can’t run out there with nothing but a towel wrapped around my loins!” Estmere protested. “There’s a certain Royal Dignity to be maintained.” “Well, if you’re not going, I am,” I insisted. “There may be elves in distress! Elves I know personally!” “Hang on a sec,” Estmere blurted as he ducked into a closet. image He emerged scant moments later, wearing a very regal bathrobe and a heroically resolute expression. “It is a Prince’s duty to be there for his people at times of crisis, and not to shy away from danger,” he declared. “ONWARD! To the Festival Grounds!” image We dashed through the Palace and arrived at the Festival Grounds to witness a scene of unprecedented chaos. To the left of the causeway was a huge hole in the side of the building, and a pool of what smelled like beer. To the right I glimpsed the kitchen staff (all present and seemingly uninjured, thank Fuma.) Immediately ahead of us were two guards. One was in conversation with the kitchen staff, trying to ascertain if anyone saw what happened. The other guard was gawking in amazement at the bizarre, eldritch-looking fumes escaping from a hole in the causeway where the arch used to be. Beyond that, further down the causeway, I could hear Sir Evan Klive wailing despondently as Otis tried unsuccessfully to console him. I was a little worried that the bizarre wisps of vapor might be the souls of lowfolk swaplings, escaping from wherever they had been kept, and that they might understandably be angry, vengeful, or at least extremely confused. However, they seemed intent on escaping rather than possessing anyone, so I decided to ignore them until such time as they became a problem. image Estmere seemed to be in a daze, staring up at the plume of occult vapor and muttering “Great Fuma’s claws! What IS that?” “Please stay back, Your Highness,” a guard said, gently restraining him. “It might be dangerous.” I leaned over the side of the causeway and asked my colleagues from the kitchen what had happened. “I don’t know, Your Grace,” Horace explained. “Near as I can tell, the brewery exploded, and it set off some sort of pyromantic whatsis that was part of the Festival Arch.” “Anybody hurt?” I asked. “Nobody on this side was so much as bruised. And your stew is undamaged,” he added with a wink. image I looked over the other side of the causeway to see a few brewers gazing glumly out through a hole in the side of the building. They were standing hip-deep in beer and rubble, but they didn’t appear to be injured. I would have liked to snoop around and ask them what happened, but with the causeway blocked there was no easy way to get down to them. ************* The vapor was beginning to clear, and I could see Sir Evan Klive kneeling on the other side of the breach in the causeway. image “There they all go,” Sir Evan wailed. “The Festival is ruined! I’m ruined! I’ll never work in this town again! They’ll pack me off to the farthest provinces to do puppet shows for army retirees.” “There there, guv,” Otis commiserated, patting the despondent fox on the back with a feathery hand, “It can’t be as bad as all that. Look on the bright side. Things will work out, you’ll see.” Behind these two, I saw some important-looking Representatives of Authority emerging through the door: A sinister hooded figure with a Magic-User’s badge at its throat, and Brother Matthew looking uncharacteristically stern. No doubt the monk had been sent by the Church to deal with a potentially toxic spiritual leak. The situation was well in hand now! I felt safer already, knowing Brother Matthew was on the case. image Suddenly I felt a hand on my shoulder! I turned, and there was Lemmy the Internal Affairs Agent! Where’d he come from?? “Come with me please, Your Grace,” Lemmy said. “Your uncle would like a word with you.” “I need to tell my mother I’m okay,” I pleaded. “She’s bound to be worried if I don’t get home soon.” “We will send someone to inform her of your status,” Lemmy assured me. “But right now, the Marshal has requested your presence.” Oh crap. OH CRAP! It suddenly occurred to me that there was a whole string of incriminating evidence all pointing at me! I left a can of stew under Estmere’s washroom, and a pile of mushroom crumbs in front of the door leading to it … a scent trail leading from the Festival Grounds to my brother’s private chambers … And if they searched my pockets they would find that pile of nail clippings from the floor of Estmere’s shower. It all pointed to … what? I wasn’t sure what it all pointed to, but from the Marshal’s perspective it would probably look extremely suspicious. Lemmy led me through a low cloistered building and into an office where a sparrow in an army uniform greeted me with an empty tray in his hands. image “Beggin’ yer pardon, Yer Grace,” the sparrow said, apologetically, “but I’ll need you ta empty yer pockets.” That was it. I was doomed. They were surely going to lock me up in Conspirators’ Prison until the end of time. I dumped Eudora’s garter, Estmere’s blue chit, and a mixed handful of mushroom crumbs and toenail clippings onto the tray. The sparrow opened another door and ushered me inside. “Duke Adler is ‘ere, Yer Ighness,” he said. “What? Oh yes, have a seat,” the Marshal muttered, gesturing vaguely at an armchair in front of his desk. “Be with you in a moment.” image Marshal Roland returned his attention to the scroll he had been reading when I came in. The room was swathed in uncomfortable silence. *************** I could hear a clock ticking, but I was too nervous to turn around and look for it. The Marshal’s breathing was slow and heavy. He didn’t look as fat as I thought he would be, but then again I couldn’t see much of him behind his desk and the jumbled pile of papers and scrolls which covered it. After a long pause, the Marshal sniffed and shifted in his seat. I flinched, thinking he was about to speak, but he just unrolled a bit more of the scroll and continued reading. The seconds ticked by. Each one seemed longer than the last. image After what seemed like an eternity, the sparrow came into the room with a tea-tray. “Tea an’ cakes, Yer Ighness,” he announced. “Ah! Very good, Wing,” the Marshal boomed enthusiastically. “Just set it down wherever you can find a level spot.” Wing balanced the tray atop a stack of papers and ducked back out of the office. “Now then,” the Marshal said, rubbing his hands. “Sorry to keep you waiting like that, Your Grace, but there’s positively no end to the paperwork I have to keep track of. Would you like some tea? Biscuits?” He poured a cup for himself, and selected a sweet bun from the tray as I nervously shook my head. “Well, feel free to help yourself if you should change your mind. You know, of course, that I am your great-uncle Roland?” I nodded in agreement. image Marshal Roland took a sip of tea and a bite of his sweet bun, and leaned back to regard me. “My great-nephew,” he said thoughtfully. “I remember your birth as if it were only yesterday, and already you cut quite a dashing figure of young elfhood. Where has the time gone? I ought to have spoken to you before now, but my duty to the Realm …” he gestured at the mound of papers on his desk. “How have you been?” he continued. “And your mother, Mavis, is she well?” I regarded Marshal Roland uneasily for a moment while I considered how I should answer. He was my late grandfather King Adler’s younger brother, uncle to my father King Gawain. The Marshal was the High Commander of the Army of Faerie (at least the part of Faerie that was controlled by the Mephitist Empire, which at that time was most of it) and acted as the King’s right hand. He also controlled a huge, shadowy intelligence network. When he gave orders, they were followed. He could end wars, or start them. He could make people “disappear.” It had also been said that he could eat six pheasants, three whole lobsters, a salad, a pineapple, a wheel of cheese, a pot of stewed greens, four loaves of bread, an entire plum pudding, and seven jugs of wine FOR BREAKFAST. Finally I blurted out a reply to my great-uncle’s question. image “I’ve been fine, sir, and my Mavis, mother is quite well as well,” I garbled. “Sir.” And then I giggled nervously. This interview was already going much more smoothly than I had expected! “That’s good to hear,” Marshal Roland chuckled as he selected another sweet roll from the tray. He took a bite and savored it for a moment. “Why exactly were you in the Crown Prince’s private quarters this afternoon?” he asked. image “I was exploring the Underworks and I happened to come up in Estmere’s - I mean, His Highness’s - shower,” I stammered. “The door was unlocked, so I went in. I didn’t know at the time where the passage led.” “How did you even get into the Underworks?” the Marshal inquired, taking another sweet roll from the tray. “The door leading down from the Festival Grounds was unlocked, sir,” I quavered. ******************* “Are you quite certain you wouldn’t like some tea, Your Grace?” the Marshal asked as he poured some for himself. “Pardon my saying so, but you seem quite agitated. A warm cup might soothe your nerves.” “No thank you, sir, I’m fine.” “Very well, suit yourself. It’s right here should you change your mind. Now let me see if I understand you correctly,” he continued, picking a glazed pastry from the tray. “You crossed the Festival Grounds in plain sight of Sir Evan and his assistant, without them noticing you, and opened a door that is supposed to be kept locked. Once inside the Underworks your curiosity led you on a path, which you boldly marked with your own scent, directly to the Minor Confluence, where you found another door which is supposed to be kept locked, and which you innocently entered. This door, coincidentally, was marked with a pile of toxic dried mushrooms in front of it. Forgive me for saying so, Your Grace, but I get the impression there are some details missing from your story.” I blinked nervously and tried to swallow. My throat felt dry. “Why were you in the Underworks?” “I was looking for the changelings’ quarters, sir,” I admitted. “I was curious to meet them, as I’ve never had any friends my own age except for the Prince. Also, I wanted to know what they thought of the stew I made for them.” “Ah yes, your stew,” the Marshal grinned. “I have it on good authority that you’re quite a culinary prodigy. I assume you volunteered in the kitchen in order to get closer to the changelings, and were not dissuaded from your objective by the rule forbidding interaction with them til after the Festival.” I nodded the affirmative, unable to meet my great-uncle’s steely gaze. “I’m quite eager to sample your already-legendary stew,” he continued. “Tell me, why did you leave a can of it in the passage under the Crown Prince’s washroom?” “Uh, I was bringing that for Dame Chitterleigh because I told her I’d bring her some stew, and I left because I couldn’t carry it and climb the ladder at the same time, and then I forgot about it because the explosion happened, and, um, well, I didn’t mean to leave it there.” image The Marshal leaned across the desk, with Eudora’s garter dangling from his finger. “Ah, I see. Well, I assume this is a token of affection from that lady - and since it bears little relevancy to the case, permit me to return it to you.” I shamefacedly accepted the garter and stuffed it into my pocket. “You were also carrying this Royal Pass,” the Marshal said, holding up the blue chit. “How did you acquire it?” “Estmere gave it to me when I was asking him about the Festival, and he told me to go pester Sir Evan Klive.” “Hmm, that’s a breach of regulations which I shall have to discuss with His Highness,” the Marshal mused as he placed the chit in a drawer. “But now I confess myself mystified. The mixture of mushrooms and hoof shavings which you were carrying: To whom do those shavings belong?” “Hoof shavings?” I blinked in confusion. “I, uh, don’t know whose those are, sir.” “Yet you have some idea, do you not?” “I could guess, sir, but I’d rather not say because I’m not sure.” “Hoof shavings from an unknown person,” the Marshal mused, picking another sweet roll from the tray. “Where did you get them?” “I found them on the floor of Estmere’s shower, sir.” “I see. And why did you pick them up?” “I’m not sure, sir. I felt an irresistible compulsion to do so.” “What is the purpose of mixing the shavings with the crumbled mushrooms?” “Uh, the mushrooms were already in my pocket, and the shavings got mixed together when I put them in there, I guess,” I floundered. Where was he going with this line of questioning? “So it was you who put the mushrooms by the door. Why? And where did you get them?” “I was marking my path in case I got lost,” I admitted. “The mushrooms were picked weeks ago, from Lord Randall’s tomb in the Hall of Ancestors, and I forgot I even had them until today.” “I suppose it was another mysterious compulsion which made you pick the mushrooms.” “Yes, sir.” The Marshal gazed at me and chewed his sweet roll thoughtfully for a moment. “How much magick have you learned so far, Your Grace?” he asked. ********************* “I know some basic Gramerye, sir,” I answered. “Is that all your mother taught you?” the Marshal asked just before taking a bite of a large sticky bun. “No,” I admitted, reluctantly. And to pre-empt his next question, I volunteered: “Beginner’s Elfmind as well.” The Marshal regarded me seriously for a moment over the cookie he was nibbling, and then startled me with a sudden change in subject: “How do you feel about your half-brother the Crown Prince?” I had to pause for a moment to think about this. “I originally thought he didn’t like me very much, but he actually does like me, and we get along quite well together,” I mused. “He’s a bit… hm…. how to put it, macho? More into action and physicality, and he can be quite persuasive and forceful, but he’s a natural born leader. He takes his role as prince very seriously. Like when he ran with me to where the explosion was, to check on everyone, he declared ‘It is a Prince’s duty to be there for his people at times of crisis, and not to shy away from danger’. To be honest, at that moment I was so full of admiration and respect, I think I would have followed him anywhere.” image “I want him to be happy,” I proclaimed, really starting to warm up to my subject. “He’s kind of the only friend I have. He’s important to me. Even though I’m the bastard, he accepts me wholly as his brother. It’s really nice. Sure, he annoys me at times, but he’s family and I love him.” Admitting my admiration for Prince Estmere soothed my nerves considerably, and I was beginning to think strategically at last. I knew what my great-uncle was up to, with his seemingly oh-so-careless pastry munching and his offhand, leading questions. But I secretly had the power to turn this conversation to my advantage! Ha HA! “So you’re fond of him, then,” the Marshal observed, taking a sip of tea. “Is that why you played matchmaker twixt the Prince and your archery teacher?” “He spontaneously expressed to me his desire for Utica,” I explained coolly, “and when he realized my relationship to her, he practically begged me to help him set up a meeting.” “I see. Very brotherly of you,” the Marshal stated with a nod. “And what did the two of you do on your excursions to the lowfolk land?” “I played the lute and we sang & lured lowfolk to get lost in the woods,” I confessed with a sheepish grin. “A time-honored practice,” the Marshal chuckled with evident approval. “But you should include Elfsong on your list of magickal attainments. I fear you may have been a bit too modest in describing the extent of your Talents.” He reached for a danish, and then continued: “Tell me, Your Grace, how many lowfolk did you lure to the Old Crow’s shack?” “Um,” I stalled. “None, sir.” “Yet you learned something that day; something other than the presence of a spider army supposedly poised to invade the capital.” “We learned that the Old Crow lived in squalor and had a fondness for smut, sir.” The Marshal chewed his danish and regarded me for a moment. image “Who told you about Zandar Skönk?” he asked. Uh-oh. ****************** Suddenly I felt my sense of control starting to slip away again. Marshal Roland knew that I knew about Zandar! My only chance now was the hope that my great-uncle would take my panic-stricken expression for one of bewilderment. “Is Zandar her given name?” I bluffed. “Meadow only referred to her as ‘Lady Skönk’.” “Nice try, Your Grace, but I know you came to the kitchen looking for ways to contact the Crown Prince’s intended bride,” the Marshal pointed out wryly. “How did you know?” “Well,” I proposed, in a flash of inspiration, “it stands to reason, doesn’t it, considering Estmere’s age and the auspices of this particular Festival, not to mention the fact that there are no eligible young ladies around, that there must be a skunky noblewoman in with this batch of changelings. Why do you suppose he was so anxious to consummate his affair with Utica before the Festival took place? And how did you know about that anyway? I was very discreet in making all the arrangements.” “Humph,” the Marshal snorted. “You were far from discreet, young elf. Flitting hither and thither all over the Capital when you were supposed to be studying archery, climbing onto the parapet (where, incidentally, you aren’t allowed to go), barging into a scrying tower and tampering with the orb… It seems almost as if you did everything solely to call attention to yourself. But to return to the subject at hand: Did the Crown Prince ask you to inquire about his prospective bride?” “No, but as I implied earlier, I like to be helpful to him in whatever ways I can. He’s not going to get in trouble over this, is he?” image Marshal Roland eyed me skeptically as he poured another cup of tea. “I see no reason, at present, to mention the affair to his father,” the Marshal stated. “But now, tell me about your interactions with Sir Evan Klive.” “I went to Sir Evan as my brother instructed,” I explained, “to inquire about my official duties concerning the Festival. He was too busy working on the arch to answer my questions, and he sent me to the kitchen to talk to Miss Grainmaster. Actually I thought he was quite rude.” “And you had no further interaction with him?” the Marshal pressed. “None. He was there after the explosion, lamenting the destruction of the arch. He seemed to take it personally. But I didn’t speak to him directly at that time.” image “You know, Uncle,” I continued boldly, “the agent you assigned to see to my safety strikes me as rather inept. I think someone more experienced, more, ah, feminine would be much more able to stick close to me at all times and keep me out of danger.” The Marshal regarded me thoughtfully as he chewed some sort of glazed pastry. “I will keep that under consideration,” he remarked drily. “However, I am quite satisfied with Agent O'Possum’s performance thus far.” He finished his pastry, wiped his fingers on a napkin, and poked ruefully at some of the papers on his desk. “Much as I might prefer to continue our little chat,” he sighed, “I’m afraid I must get back to work. Sergeant Wing has your tiffin of stew, I believe, if you’ll just fetch it from him on your way out … and Agent O'Possum will escort you home - or wherever it is you wish to go.” image A few minutes later, I was on the street outside Military HQ, with my tiffin in one hand and Lemmy looming over my shoulder. ************** “Hey Lemmy,” I asked, “If, for instance, I happened to be good with Gramarye, would that maybe make the Marshal interested in hiring me as an agent?” image “Oh, so that’s how you pulled your little disappearing act,” Lemmy grumbled. “Sorry, man,” you shrug. “It just seems like, when somebody is tailing you, you’re sort of obliged to try to shake him if you can.” “Maybe so, but I wish you wouldn’t. It makes my job a lot harder. When the brewery and the arch exploded, I thought for sure you were in trouble.” “The Marshal just told me that you’ll escort me wherever I wish to go,” I informed him. “I didn’t hear him say that,” Lemmy pointed out. “He did say it though.” Elves don’t lie! “Okay,” Lemmy shrugged. “So where do you wish to go?” “Nowhere that’s going to get you in hot water with the boss,” I reassured him. Mentioning hot water reminded me that I had promised Eudora I would bring her some stew, but I thought that maybe I should wait til tomorrow. This can had gone completely cold by now. “Would you like some of this stew I made?” I asked, offering the tiffin to Lemmy. “Thanks, but not while I’m on duty.” “Then I guess we stop by Dame Chitterleigh’s place so I can deliver it,” I decided. “Why are you carrying that in your hands, instead of putting it in your Elfintory?” Lemmy asked. I gave him a blank look. “For such a whiz at Gramerye, you’ve got a lot to learn,” Lemmy scoffed. "Your Grace.“ image As soon as Eudora opened the door and saw me there, she covered me with kisses. "Oh Adler!” she breathed, between smooches. “I’m so glad to see you safe and sound! When I heard about the accident at the Festival Grounds, I was so worried about you!” “Please Eudora,” I groaned, “not in front of my escort.” “Oh!” she exclaimed, straightening and blushing as she noticed Lemmy lurking behind me. “I’ve been at the Marshal’s office, giving my testimony,” I explained, “and Agent O'Possum here has been assigned to watch over me for the time being.” “What about Meadow? Is she all right?” “I saw her there in the aftermath, and she seemed fine,” I explained. “We don’t know yet whether it was an accident or sabotage, ma'am,” Lemmy added. “I have that stew I promised you.” I held out the tiffin. “I’m afraid it’s gone cold, but it should be fine re-heated.” “You’re not staying?” she asked, disappointed. “I think I’d better get home. I’ve had a very trying day.” “I suppose you have,” Eudora admitted. “And your poor mother must be worried sick! Yes, you’d better hurry home this instant!” image “Pleased to have met you, Milady,” Lemmy said, with a tip of his hat as we left. “Likewise, I’m sure,” Dame Chitterleigh answered. “Quite the ladies’ man, eh?” Lemmy asked me slyly after we walked around the corner, out of sight. “Isn’t she a little old for you though?” “You may have noticed that there aren’t any females my age around here,” I sulked. “She is my music teacher; I’ve known her since I was a pup, and .. well .. one thing led to another.” “I don’t blame you a bit, Your Grace,” Lemmy grinned. “What a looker!” image “MOM!” I yelled as soon as I came in the door. “I’m home! I had a talk with Uncle Roland this afternoon, but everything is fine! I wasn’t hurt in the explosion at the Festival Grounds; in fact I wasn’t even there when it happened!” The apartment was strangely quiet. ****************** “MOM?” I called, as I wandered through the kitchen. Maybe she was asleep. Maybe she went out looking for me, or something. I pushed open the door of my mother’s bedroom. image She wasn’t there. Oh dear oh dear oh dear… I checked the dresser. The drawers were empty. It looked as though it had been done in an orderly fashion, but in haste since the drawers were left open. There was no mess, no upended furniture or objects out of place which would have indicated a struggle. No unfamiliar scents in the air. Probably my mother packed her own things, or else it was done by someone who knew exactly what to take and where it was … but who could that be?? I poked around the room, hoping that perhaps she had taken on a magickal disguise, but the chair wasn’t her. The furniture was suspiciously cold and quiet. I felt a chill in my gut. Something was wrong. Was there a place she would hide a note for me? I couldn’t think of such a place. I was having trouble thinking of much of anything at the moment. image I decided to take a chance, and reached out to her with Elfmind, but I got nothing. She was out of range, or maybe my transmission was being blocked. I really didn’t know what was possible, given the present situation. I had a sudden stroke of inspiration. THE MIRROR!! Of course! The looking-glass atop the dresser would have seen what happened there, and glass gazing was where psychometry crossed with scrying. I had already successfully done one, with the bowls in the kitchen … and my access to the tower supposedly indicated that I had Talent in the other. image I grabbed the mirror and stared intently into its reflective depths, softly imploring it to show me what it saw earlier today. The glass grew cloudy … Then it cleared and I saw the empty room behind me, without my own reflection looking back at me. It was quite an eerie effect. I saw my mother come into the room. She looked worried. She pulled a portmanteau out from under the bed and started stuffing clothes into it from the dresser. The room shook slightly and she glanced nervously to the side. She stood up and came close to the mirror. image “Well, that’s it,” she said. “Everything has officially gone to crap. Zandar has been detained, but the F.E.L.F. could not be dissuaded from carrying out their sabotage of the Festival. Adler, I hope you are the one to find this message. I will instruct the mirror to relay it once and then destroy itself. I’m sorry, son. I did my best. I only hope you were out of danger, as they promised you would be .. and I want you to know I had nothing to do with it .. but this incident has made things too hot for me at Albric Tor. There will be questions I would prefer not to answer. I have to disappear. That means covering my tracks so not even the trees will know where I’ve gone. It is doubtful whether I will ever see you again. I love you, Adler, and I’m proud of you. If this message is being viewed by someone other than my son, I charge you on your honor as an elf to relay its contents to him.” She turned away, and the mirror cracked with a sudden loud report. ****************** WHAT?? What should I do now? What could I do now? I would have to be brave, and carry on alone. I would have to be like my mother, who - despite her stress and sorrow - calmly did what she had to do. image I could not control myself. My dear, beloved, ever-scheming mother had left me - probably forever - and I didn’t even get to say goodbye. I felt like my heart was breaking. I stood, utterly desolate, in the middle of the room, and howled my despair to the heavens. “Your Grace?” Lemmy said, poking his head in to see the cause of the alarm. “What’s the matter? Are you okay? Are you hurt?” image I valiantly mastered my emotions and turned to answer the Agent. “Not hurt physically, Lemmy, but I just found out (choke) that my mother has skipped town and I will probably (sniffle) never see her again.” “Fuma’s Musk!!” Lemmy gasped. “What a shock for such a little guy!” “I’m not an infant,” I scowled. “Sorry, Your Grace. Is there anything I can do for you?” “Can you go away? I really just want to be alone right now.” “No can do, Your Grace,” Lemmy shook his head. “I have explicit instructions to maintain positive verification of your whereabouts at all times, until further notice. I’ll just be right in the next room; you’ll hardly even know I’m here.” Great. Well, I should have expected something like that, after everything that had happened. “I’m exhausted,” I sighed. “I think I’ll just go to bed.” “Okay,” Lemmy answered. “I’ll be right here if you need anything.” What I needed was my mother to help me figure out what to do! That thought made me start choking up again, so I took deep breaths and willed myself calm. Yes, calm .. cool as a cucumber .. was I not Mavis MacFogg’s son? I was just going to have to come up with a cunning plan on my own. image I lay awake for a while, mulling over the possibilities. I could become a crazy loner like Sir Ravenmad. Perhaps I could play on my brother’s sympathy. Or I could throw myself on the mercy of the Crown and see what Marshal Roland’s organization had to offer me. There were certain aspects of the Mephitist monastic life which appealed to me, but I didn’t feel ready to take the Vow of Debauchery just yet. I could maybe shack up with Dame Chitterleigh. I had no doubt a bit of extra Wiles and a “Magic Fingers” session would persuade her to support me, but life as the widow Chitterleigh’s boy-toy would fall far short of my own (not to mention my mother’s) hopes for my future. I thought about maybe setting off on a great Quest, like the elves of old in the Ballads, but couldn’t think of anything to Quest for. It was kind of sad to realize that I drew a complete blank when I tried to think of a Noble Quest to motivate me. Could this have something to do with the sapping of Elvish vitality? Hmm, where could I go to find out if there were any treasures or Lost Secrets to hunt for? That in itself could be a Quest, actually. I fell asleep with all these unresolved possibilities jumbling together in my mind. image I had the strangest dream. It was one of those where the colors were very vivid, but somehow nothing looked real. In it, I was Estmere. I was on a Quest that didn’t make any sense, in a strange world full of ladders and tunnels and dangerous pits, fighting monsters that should have been easy to defeat because of their repetitive, predictable behavior … and yet, I found myself hampered in my movements. I could only walk back and forth along a narrow ledge, and the weight of my armor rendered me unable to jump. I lashed out with my sword, but alas - even though Estmere knew swordplay, I masquerading as him did not. A single touch from a monster would send me instantly back to where I started, and found myself doing the same thing over and over and over, endlessly … And through it all, some invisible piper kept playing the same repetitive, infinitely looping melody. **************** I woke up feeling more tired than I was when I went to bed. I hadn’t managed to resolve anything. I stumbled into the kitchen and started taking out the breakfast things. image “Do you want breakfast?” I yelled as I set out a bowl for myself. “You bet I do,” Lemmy answered from the table behind me. “What’ve you got?” image Oh. Right. For a moment I had forgotten that my mother was gone, and instead I now had this goofy possum assigned to watch me. I felt the tears welling up momentarily, but I fought them down. Instead I prepared a delicious porridge. As we ate, I decided that the best preliminary course of action would be to go see Eudora again, since I had left her rather brusquely last night. The nature of our relationship did rather demand a follow-up. I could then decide what else to do from there. However, when we arrived at Dame Chitterleigh’s flat, we found a guard posted at the door, and Meadow pacing angrily outside. “Sorry,” the guard croaked. “No admittance, pending official investigation.” image “WHAT HAVE YOU GOTTEN MY MISTRESS INTO???” Meadow squeaked at me. “I have no clue what you’re talking about,” I objected. “What exactly has happened?” image Suddenly Lemmy lunged forward, pointing a claw right in Meadow’s face. “SPILL IT, SISTER!” he yelled at the startled maid. “Give us the skinny, the scoop, the lowdown on this caper! I want all the details, starting at the beginning and going through to the end!” “Who is this imbecile?” Meadow asked me. “I’M ASKING THE QUESTIONS, MISSY!” Lemmy snarled. “Never mind His Grace over there; it’s ME you’ve gotta worry about right now! But since you’re so darn curious: Agent Inspector 3rd class Lemuel O'Possum, Office of Internal Affairs.” “Then you should know more about this than I do,” Meadow snorted. “Go ask your superiors. I came home after dealing with messes at the Grounds all night, only to find the apartment cordoned off and Dame Chitterleigh apparently taken into custody under suspicion of I don’t know what, based on some evidence which THIS lout” (she jerked her thumb at the guard) “either can’t, or won’t, describe.” “Now we’re getting somewhere,” Lemmy chortled. “And where were you on the night in question?” “I just told you, I was at the Festival Grounds all night,” Meadow sighed. “I’m exhausted, and I was looking forward to a nice rest at home, now that the Festival is ruined and the hospitality staff have been dismissed.” “Duke Adler,” she squeaked at me, sharply, “did you leave any incriminating evidence in my mistress’s quarters?” “No,” I insisted, in complete and genuine bafflement. “I gave her the can of stew from the kitchen and went home. I didn’t even go in. Lemmy was with me; he saw what happened.” “Agent O'Possum,” Meadow pleaded, turning to Lemmy. “Please go to Internal Affairs and find out what evidence they have against Dame Chitterleigh. It has to be some kind of mistake. She’s a good, kind, patriotic elf. I can’t believe she would be mixed up in any sort of seditious or dangerous plot.” Meadow emphasized the word “plot” with a quick glare at me. “Sounds like we have our first lead,” Lemmy stated crisply, then turned and started to walk away. I followed along behind him, not sure what else to do. ****************** “That was some, uh, impressive work back there,” I said. “How did you get into the spying business?” “Snooping is in my blood, Your Grace,” Lemmy growled proudly. “My ancestors have been O.I.A. spooks for generations. I carry on our noble O'Possum heritage.” “Are you married?” I asked. “You don’t have to tell me if that’s too personal…” “Doing a bit of snooping yourself, eh?” Lemmy chuckled. “I don’t mind. No, I’m not married. The life of a professional Snoop doesn’t leave a lot of time for chasing flighty broads … unless it happens to be my official assignment. So far, I haven’t been that lucky.” “You must come from a pretty small family,” I remarked, “since your career leaves so little time for love.” “No smaller than your family,” Lemmy retorted. "And elves live a long time. Eventually I will be assigned to tail a lady opossum, and then nature will take its course. It worked for my father and his father before him, and his father before him…“ "Got any hobbies?” “Snooping is my life, Your Grace. Why would I waste time on idle pursuits of pleasure when I enjoy my job so much?” I could not argue with that. As we walked, I found myself pondering my erstwhile guardian’s comfort. If Lemmy was going to be staying with me, he might as well have a proper bed. I sure as Fuma didn’t want him sleeping in MY room though, so setting up a bunk was out of the question. “Hey, um, if you’d rather not sleep on the bench in the hall, you know, my mom’s bed is,” I choked up a little, but managed to croak out: “not being used.” “I appreciate the offer, Your Grace,” Lemmy said, “but that bench suits me just fine. It’s a heck of a lot more comfortable than a packing crate .. which is more comfortable than a curbstone .. and besides - no offense, but your mom’s bed smells like skunk.” I saw no point in debating this, since every breed had their own particular aromas & foibles … but I could tell Lemmy lived in that coat full-time, and it hadn’t been washed in a while. “What’s F.E.L.F?” I asked, changing the subject. “The Free Elves’ Liberation Front??” Lemmy gasped. “What do you know about them?” “My mother left me a message which suggested they were involved in the Festival Grounds explosion.” “Why didn’t you mention that sooner?” Lemmy wailed. “This is BIG!! Bigger than big! This is HUGE!” “I didn’t know what it meant,” I admitted. “We’d better head to the Grounds and see if we can talk to whoever’s handling that investigation,” Lemmy insisted. “Fine with me,” I shrugged. I had actually been thinking of going there myself, because if there was something incriminating in my stew, it must have been put there by a kitchen staffer. Or … maybe … actually, pretty much anyone who handled the tiffin after I left it in the Underworks could have planted evidence inside. Sir Ravenmad was down there … and Sergeant Wing had access to the tiffin in his office … who else? Did they mean to incriminate me, or was Eudora their intended target? HMMMM. image We arrived at the entrance to the Festival Grounds only to find it locked and closely guarded. “No admittance, pending investigation,” the guard grunted. “COME ON!” Lemmy protested. “I’m an Agent Inspector 3rd class with Internal Affairs! Let me through!” “Sorry,” the guard said. “Top-level clearance only.” ***************** I cleared my throat and stepped forward. I missed my chance to do this with the guard at Dame Chitterleigh’s place, and I didn’t want to let it slip past again! “Pardon me, gentlemen,” I schmoozed, “but I am Duke Adler Fitzgawain, son of the King, and brother to His Highness the Crown Prince Estmere.” “Sorry, Your Grace. Top-level clearance only,” one guard barked crisply. I could have almost sworn that the other one was stifling a giggle. “Well, never mind for now,” Lemmy said with a scowl. “Let’s just go to headquarters. BUT WE’LL BE BACK! With more authorization than you’ll know what to do with!” image As soon as we entered the cloistered courtyard, I spotted my great-uncle waddling toward me. Behind him was a cloaked & hooded figure that looked like the same one I saw at the Festival Grounds yesterday. “What luck!” the Marshal boomed. “Just the elves we’re looking for!” image Lemmy snapped off a nervous salute, but since the Marshal was technically not my superior officer, I wasn’t sure exactly what I should do. I decided to bow. “Good morning, Uncle,” I said respectfully. “So formal today, Your Grace,” Marshal Roland observed. “I have known Dame Chitterleigh all my life,” I proclaimed, “and I’m sure she could not possibly be guilty of whatever she’s been arrested for. It had to be a plant, and I didn’t put anything illicit in the stew, and I don’t know anything about the F.E.L.F.” image “He’s telling the truth,” the hooded figure said in an expressionless voice, almost (but not quite) too quietly for me to hear. “Yes, thank you, teashor,” the Marshal muttered. “I didn’t think he wasn’t.” image Why the very NERVE of that guy! To even insinuate that I would be lying was to besmirch my honor as an Elf! HOW DARE HE?!?! **************** The hooded character probably used a low-level Elfmind on me to check the veracity of my statements. Turnabout is fair play; I was tired of being a patsy, a shill, a pawn, a tool used and abused by all these Larger Powers! It was time to assert myself! image I pushed my Elfmind with all the force I could muster, to delve into the secret thoughts of my great-uncle and his mysterious companion. image It was quite disheartening how easily they repelled my attempted incursion. It was almost as if they somehow knew what I was trying to do! But how?? “None of that is necessary, Your Grace,” the Marshal calmly assured me. "Have you met the Master of Elfhame?“ he continued, indicating the hooded figure behind him. "Honored, Your Grace,” the figure whispered mysteriously. I glared at him suspiciously. image The Marshal paused and looked thoughtful for a moment, as if mentally reviewing the facts before speaking further. Oh how I wished I could use Elfmind on him! “I have been watching you for some time, nephew,” Marshal Roland began, “and you show great promise. You have chutzpah, and Talent, and you show exceptional willingness to be of service to others. You remind me a great deal of my royal brother, whose name you bear. An elf with your qualities would be of great value to the Crown. We had hoped to interview your mother in regard to certain recent events, but she seems to have ‘taken it on the lam’ as the saying goes - suddenly, and with surprising thoroughness. Did she perchance leave you any message which would pertain to our investigation?” I hesitated to answer. I was still seething inwardly from the insult of this Elfhame jerk insinuating that I might have told an untruth. In addition, the phrase 'willingness to be of service’ sounded like the Marshal foresaw more patsy, shill, pawn, and tool work in my future. Ah well, no choice, really, but to tell the truth. image “My mother left a personal message for me, in which she said goodbye,” I explained, as I choked with emotion. “She seemed upset and unhappy about recent events and said she had nothing to do with them. It was the F.E.L.F. She also indicated that she didn’t feel safe staying here.” **************** Info Break! ELFHAME The Vale of Elfhame is a region in Northern Faerie which consists of a narrow river valley high in the mountains, inhabited chiefly by roe-deer elves. Settlements there are reputed to be the oldest in Faerie, which inspired the name of the district. Its chief exports during the Imperial era were sweet persimmons, wooden toys, and archers (which comprised a once-famous and highly decorated army regiment, the Elfhame Rangers, now defunct). Elfhame is the home of an ancient Elvish dialect, now rarely spoken outside the Vale. At one time, the place was suffering a decline in population and economic resources more severe than the general deterioration experienced by the rest of Faerie, but during the late reign of Adler Sartoriusson and throughout the reign of Gawain Adlersson, Elfhame experienced an upturn in its fortunes which was not generally shared by the rest of the Empire. LYING Prevarication-guilt carries with it two basic components. The opprobrium, the penalty for getting caught, is just the social manifestation of the odium inherent in the deed itself. Even if the lie is never found out, the speaking of the falsehood taints the liar’s soul. Elves are magical creatures, and our life is linked to the magical realm of Faerie. For such beings, honor is as vital as air or water. Each falsehood erodes at the foundation of our existence. It is no mere coincidence that a decline in our reputation for honesty was matched by a decline in our power and our population. In the old days, an elf could walk the entire Shining Land from end to end without leaving Faerie at all. But now (meaning right now, not the past time of the story which I am telling you), there are huge holes necessitating the use of portals and long treks through the lowfolk lands. The realm, and the lives of its people, have been severely damaged. Casual handling of the truth may not be the only thing that caused this, but it was a significant contributing factor. ************* “He’s quite a sensitive lad,” the hooded figure whispered. “My heart almost goes out to him, yet he shows excessive concern for himself while his leman languishes in prison.” “An excellent point, teashor,” the Marshal concurred. Addressing me, he said, “so, Your Grace, you maintain that you know nothing about Dame Chitterleigh’s communication with the so-called Liberation Front and their team of saboteurs?” “This is the first I’ve heard of it,” I answered hotly, “and it’s completely ridiculous. You know as well as I that Eudora is innocent. Haven’t you asked her? What does she say?” “That’s just it,” the Marshal sighed. “She is refusing to speak. Of course she is within her rights to remain silent, but it does nothing to allay the suspicions against her.” This was upsetting news. “May I see her?” I asked. “We were hoping that just such an interview could be arranged,” the Marshal smiled. “Come with me.” image A few minutes later, I was looking through prison bars at Dame Chitterleigh as she sat on a cot in her cell. Eudora seemed strangely attractive sitting there. What was it about Dames behind bars which could pique a young elf’s interest so? To this day I can neither identify nor deny the appeal. image Marshal Roland pulled a folding stool from somewhere, and I sat down on it, facing Eudora’s cell. The Marshal, the Master of Elfhame, and Lemmy all stood behind me, expectantly waiting. I was not comfortable speaking about Certain Matters in their presence, so I just sat quietly. Eudora hummed a few bars from a song she had taught me, and the words of the chorus sprang instantly to my mind: “Twenty-five years in the Imperial Pen, When I get out I’m gonna do it again.” I wondered if my great-uncle knew that song. Odds were, he probably did. Finally I couldn’t stand it any longer. “Can I have a moment alone with her, please?” I demanded. “Of course, Your Grace,” the Marshal replied, and the three of them slunk off down the hallway. “Are you all right?” I asked Eudora after they had gone. image “I am now that I see you safe, my darling,” she sighed as she leaned toward the bars and grasped my hand. “Don’t worry, Adler. I am sympathetic to your cause, and I’ve stood by, doing nothing, for far too long. Your secret is safe. I shall never tell them anything - don’t worry about me.” “What in Fuma’s name are you talking about?” I asked. “Why, the letter, my sweet,” she blinked at you adoringly. “The incriminating letter which you left at my apartment to throw them off the trail.” “I did no such thing!!” I protested. Eudora shook her head in confusion. “If you didn’t put it there, then who did?” she asked. ******************* “I am appalled that you would even think I could stoop so low as to frame you in order to keep myself out of trouble,” I hissed. image “I’m sorry, dear Adler,” Eudora protested. “I didn’t know what to think. You and Meadow are the only ones with regular access to my quarters, and I’ve known Meadow far longer than I’ve known you. Plus, your mother has always been a rather suspicious character, so naturally I assumed …” “Never mind your assumptions,” I growled. “It wasn’t me. And if you’re absolutely sure it wasn’t Meadow, then that means a stranger got into your rooms and left the letter there. What did the letter say, anyway? Where is it now?” “I assume His Highness Marshal Roland has it,” Eudora speculated. “It seemed to be a confidential report about a changeling named Zandar - she had been successfully detained and would not be attending the Ferifax Festival. Then it went on to describe the thaumaturgical mechanism beneath the Festival arch. There was more, but the guards burst in before I could finish reading it.” “I wonder how they knew you had this letter,” I wondered. “This is sounding more and more like a frame-up. Why didn’t you just tell them the letter wasn’t yours?” “That would have cast suspicion on you,” Eudora explained. “If you’re the first suspect I thought of, then I’ve no doubt they would have thought of you too. I had to protect you! And besides, what I saw of the letter’s contents convinced me that your cause was just. After that I could not allow myself to remain complacent.” “What do you mean, complacent? And earlier you mentioned standing by and doing nothing … about what?? Are you telling me that you knew about the changeling / crossling program all along?” “There were rumors,” Eudora admitted, shamefacedly. “One could hardly help noticing the absence of the young swaplings, but nobody knew anything for certain. It was all done very secretly. The letter confirmed my darkest fears. Now that I know, I will never be the same again.” image “Whoever did this,” I seethed, “whoever planted that letter and got you involved in this mess … I will see to it that that person suffers.” Eudora’s eyes widened with a mixture of fear and admiration. image “UNCLE!!” I yelled. “Dame Chitterleigh is ready to talk! And bring the keys, because she’s getting out of here!” *************** “Excellent news, nephew!” Marshal Roland responded immediately as he strolled down the corridor toward me. “Have you this letter?” I asked. “I would like to see it.” The Marshal drew a tightly rolled scroll from his sleeve and handed it to me. image “Are you quite certain you haven’t seen this before, Your Grace?” he asked. “Quite certain,” I asserted. Its contents were as the Dame described. The details regarding the Ferifax arch were followed by an elaborate plan in which barrels of highly unstable Festival Brew were to be placed against the brewery wall, where their explosion would set off a chain reaction with the thaumaturgical mechanism, some improperly stored fireworks, and a large quantity of highly combustible ferifax fronds. It suggested a conspiracy of staggering proportions, involving an unknown number of elves in several departments. I scrutinized the letter for magickal traces but found nothing. “It is unnaturally clean,” the Marshal remarked. “The complete lack of clues is itself a significant clue. And you should remember to mention psychometry among your many Talents, Your Grace.” “How did your men know that Eudora had this letter? Their timing seems … fortuitous, to say the least.” “Ah yes, well,” the Marshal cleared his throat. “You were a Person of Interest in the case, so we were keeping tabs on everyone with whom you had contact. Plus, we had a very convincing tip-off that Dame Chitterleigh was involved.” “From whom??” “Anonymous source,” the Marshal stonewalled. “But the intel looked good.” “Oh dear, this is all very upsetting,” Dame Chitterliegh fretted. “What about Meadow?” I asked. “Have you questioned her? She has access to Dame Chitterleigh’s apartment and high level clearance at the Festival Grounds. If this points to anyone, I’d say it points to her.” “Not possible,” the Marshal shook his head. “Miss Grainmaster is not a suspect. Her credentials are above reproach.” “Well, if Meadow is not part of it, then all of this makes me extremely suspicious of your Anonymous Source,” I scowled. “It does me as well,” the Marshal agreed. “In light of my mother’s sudden departure,” I theorized, “this only makes sense as an attempt on the part of the conspirators either to divert suspicion away from me, or cast it onto me. I’m not sure which.” “Nor am I,” the Marshal concurred. image “I want to find out who did this,” I declared. “It’s personal. Someone is going to pay.” “Very good, Your Grace,” the Marshal grinned. “Agent Inspector O'Possum shall assist you in your investigation.” “It will be my pleasure.” Lemmy nodded and touched the brim of his hat. “Is there anything you need from me?” the Marshal offered, then suddenly blurted “What was that??” with a glare toward the window. Everyone turned to follow his gaze. image “I could have sworn I saw something,” he muttered. “Oh well, it’s not there now.” ***************** “Perhaps the changelings had a hand in this,” I speculated, turning my attention back to the letter. “It’s impossible that they are involved,” the Marshal objected. “Firstly, they haven’t been in Faerie at all for years, and since they arrived they’ve been strictly sequestered. You need to look for someone with active contacts here in the capital; somebody who has had ample time to orchestrate a plot of this magnitude.” “I need to examine the scene, question witnesses, interrogate suspects,” I explained, “therefore I shall require top level access in order to conduct my investigation.” “That, I can give you,” the Marshal grinned. image He handed me a shiny badge mounted inside a crisp leather wallet with “Rollie’s Rangers” embossed on the front. The badge itself bore an official portrait of Marshal Roland looking Official Yet Approachable, above the special insignia of the Rollie’s Rangers. It was really neat, and also peachy keen like a fine dagger from Persoc Tor! “I hereby induct you into the order of Rollie’s Rangers,” the Marshal intoned solemnly. "Do you promise to uphold Imperial law, and to always strive for Truth, Justice, and the Seelie Way?“ Fuma’s Whiskers! What an honor! I had read tales and been taught ballads about the noble and adventuresome youth organization known as Rollie’s Rangers, but since there were so few youths around in my day, I had never even dreamed of the possibility of actually becoming a member! GOLLY!! "I so promise,” I breathed, trying to keep my voice from quavering and my eyes from misting up. The Marshal nodded sagely, and I put the badge in my pocket. “You should carry that in Elfintory, Nephew,” he said. "Much more secure that way.“ "Uhhh..” I stalled. “It’s a magickal space accessed from somewhere upon your person, for carrying objects without them being visible,” the Marshal explained. "Supposedly developed by tinkers in the Long Ago, for carrying hammers and tools, but since then the technique has become every elf’s birthright, much like the Voice of the Forest. You’re of an age now, you really should know how to use it.“ "Thanks, Uncle,” I stammered. "I’ll look into that, but there’s investigating to do now, before the trail gets cold!“ image A few minutes later, I was showing my shiny new Authorization to the guards at the Festival Grounds. "What do you think of that?” I gloated. “Told you we’d be back,” Lemmy smirked. The guards let us in, and I took a look around. Aside from the obvious damage to the architecture, there wasn’t nearly as much of a mess as I had expected. image I espied a dejected-looking Sir Evan Klive pushing a broom in the corner of the Grounds. I decided I might as well start with him since he was likely to know more than anyone about the Arch and its workings. “Sir Evan?” I began, gently. “How are you holding up? Doing okay? Would you like to sit down?” image “Save your sarcasm, Your Grace,” Sir Evan growled. “You may need it later.” He continued listlessly pushing debris around with his broom. ******************** “Agent O'Possum and I have been appointed by Marshal Roland to investigate yesterday’s incident,” I explained, proudly flashing my badge. “Do you have any idea what caused the explosion?” “Sabotage,” Sir Evan Klive grunted. “Is it true that there were fireworks improperly stored at the base of the arch?” I asked. Sir Evan gave me a wounded look. “They had only been set down there for a few minutes on their way to the fireworks stand,” he insisted. “Why were kegs of highly volatile experimental beer placed directly against the wall adjoining the Festival Grounds?” I pressed. “The brewery isn’t my department,” Sir Evan sneered. “You’ll have to ask one of them.” “Who gave the order to decorate the arch with Ferifax Fronds?” I inquired. “Nobody ordered that,” Sir Evan explained with a perplexed scowl. “Unless perhaps you mean some long-ago scion of the Royal House. The fronds are a traditional part of the Ferifax festival. Flowers and fire; those have been the themes of this celebration since time immemorial. How many more questions are you going to ask? I do have real work to do, you know.” He shuffled his broom back and forth to punctuate his statement. “Are you sure you’re even doing that right?” I asked, pointing at the broom. image “NO, I’M NOT,” Sir Evan howled in despair. “I’m supposed to be upper middle management, not a janitor! I’m trying to make myself useful in any way I can … I haven’t slept … I’m afraid to leave the Grounds because everybody is going to blame me for what happened. I can’t - I just can’t get any breaks! Nobody trusts a guy whose name is ‘Evil Knave’ spelled backwards! I’m cursed by my name to a villain’s unworthy fate! I’m doomed, doomed, DOOOOOMED!” The fox dropped his broom and collapsed, sobbing, on the ground. Suddenly Lemmy grabbed my arm. “You’re doing great, and I hate to interrupt,” he whispered. “But somebody is watching us.” “Who??” I yelped, looking around. “I don’t know, and I can’t locate them, but I can feel it. I felt it earlier, at the jail, right before the Marshal said he saw something. We are being followed. By a PRO. Trust me, a Snoop is seldom wrong about these things.” image “Can you handle it?” I murmured. “I don’t want to leave Sir Evan - I think I might be getting through to him.” “I’ll find the tail,” Lemmy replied, with a glance over his shoulder. “You just keep on being a distraction.” As Lemmy slunk away, Sir Evan yowled even louder and more miserably than before. I knelt on the ground beside him. image “There there, Sir Evan,” I murmured soothingly as I helped him sit up. “Pick yourself up off the cold, hard ground. It can’t be as bad as all that. I don’t think anyone suspects you of wrongdoing in this matter. Negligence perhaps, but no actual wrongdoing. I only want to talk to you because you know the most about the Festival and its inner workings, and you’re the one most likely to help shed some light on this crime. If you’re worried about being blamed for this fiasco, rest assured I can put in a word for you with the Marshal and the Prince.” Quicker than I could blink, Sir Evan grabbed my arm and twisted me around into a Kidnapper’s Hold, with a keen Persoc Tor dagger at my throat. He was surprisingly strong despite how thin and scrawny he looked. image “I’m awfully glad to hear you say that, Your Grace,” he hissed in my ear. “I was worried that the Royal Bastard wouldn’t make a worthwhile hostage, but you’ve convinced me of your value - so now you’re coming with me.” “What? What in Fuma’s name are you doing?” I gulped. “I’m abducting you, Your Grace. Let’s just call it an Insurance Policy to guarantee my escape. You see, without you as a shield I’m a dead elf. The radicals in the F.E.L.F. and whatever other shadow organizations there are would be only too happy to see me eliminated for what I’ve done. I had no idea they were so close, but this beer barrel plot proves they’re everywhere, practically breathing down my neck! And do you honestly think the Royals will protect me? NO WAY, kid, I know too much. When that arch blew up and the Essences escaped, it blew the lid off this whole operation - and now I’m a liability! But I’m not taking the fall for this, see? I’m getting out of here! If anybody tries to stop me, they’ll end up hurting you. Nothing against you personally, Your Grace, but you should never trust anybody whose name is 'Evil Knave’ spelled backwards. That was your biggest mistake.” “You’re not fated by your name! That’s just a myth,” I protested. “Who gave you that name anyway? It sounds like a bad lowfolk joke!” “You take that back!” Sir Evan barked. “I’m PURE Elf, from old Vulpitanian stock! The Klives have a a proud tradition of professional villainy, going back to our progenitor Daehelkcun who founded the line in the Long Ago.” “Professional villains?” I asked, with a note of incredulity. “We don’t get a lot of respect, but it is an honorable trade,” Sir Evan insisted. “Somebody has to do the work nobody else will. Somebody has to be Unseelie so that Elfkind can remain vital and keep progressing forward into the future. Life thrives on conflict! That’s what my father, Egdelwon, always told me. He was a scholar and a thaumaturgical engineer. The Crossling program was based on his research. King Adler personally invited my family here to the capital all the way from Vulpitania - my mother, Rettin, was five months pregnant with me AND YET THEY CAME! It was an HONOR! They named me Evan, which is not a traditional Vulpitanian name, so I would be more easily accepted into Albric Tor society … but there’s no escaping one’s destiny.” “Weren’t you wearing glasses earlier?” I asked, suspiciously. “I only need them to read,” Sir Evan snapped. “Now shut up and stop trying to distract me.” ********************** My mind was racing as I considered possibilities for escape. “Are you sure you’re the kind of villain who does this?” I asked, “and not a, um feudal serf?” “The fact that I am doing this should tell you what kind of villain I am,” Sir Evan growled as he tightened his grip. I briefly considered using magick to blunt the edge of Sir Evan’s knife, but one simply could not Gramarye a Persoc Tor dagger! They were made to resist such shenanigans. Quenching the steel in fresh peaches gave an uncanny fortitude to the blade. That’s why it had long been the assassin’s weapon of choice. In addition, Sir Evan would have surely heard me whispering a spell, and quickly cut it short along with my young life! No good! I thought about using my mushroomy disappearing trick, but it worked by removing myself from the victim’s attention. I doubted it would work on Sir Evan while he was looking right at me and holding me tightly like this. Elfmind, though, seemed like a distinct possibility. image I concentrated with all my might and projected the mental suggestion “This is a bad idea; let Duke Adler go.” “What are you doing?” Sir Evan asked nervously. “Why are you making that face? Are you - are you trying to use Elfmind on me? Cut it out!” “You know, this is a really bad plan,” I pointed out. “How so?” “You have no chance of getting anywhere. I mean, the guards are going to be all over you any second, and far from being Insurance, I’m only going to be an encumbrance in your escape.” “Do you see any guards?” Sir Evan scoffed. “Even your lanky smelly friend has gone off and left you alone with me.” I looked around. The Grounds were unnaturally quiet and empty. How did he manage that? “Villainy has its perks,” Sir Evan observed. “It’s still a dumb idea,” I persisted. “Where can you go? You’ve just ruined a sacred ritual vital to the future of Elfkind, which was based on your own father’s research. You can’t go home to your pure-blood-elf family after this.” “You don’t get it, do you?” Sir Evan laughed. “This Breeding Initiative isn’t about the survival of Elfkind. That’s the beauty of my father’s plan; the sheer villainy of it! The whole reason for this was to -” image Suddenly my brother appeared as if from nowhere, and knocked out Sir Evan Klive with one mighty blow. “I never liked that guy,” Estmere muttered angrily. “Wow, thanks bro!” I cheered. “You saved me!!” image “Yeah, because I want to clobber you myself, you little twerp!!” Estmere bellowed as he grabbed the front of my jacket. ****************** Meanwhile image A hooded figure observed the scene from a nearby parapet. He was relieved to see that His Highness Prince Estmere had the situation in hand, and that no magickal intervention would be necessary. The Master of Elfhame turned to continue his walk, and almost ran into Agent Inspector O'Possum. image “What are you doing up here?” Lemmy asked. “Just heading back to my office,” the hooded figure replied, mysteriously. “Taking the scenic route, aren’t you?” The Master of Elfhame nodded, with a secret smile. “Well, listen, maybe you can help me out. Somebody is following the Duke and me, but I can’t seem to pin down their location. What I did find, though, was a handful of aphid husks.” “Not an encouraging sign,” the Master of Elfhame murmured. “No, it isn’t - and I’m thinking this is the same entity that made its presence known briefly at the jail.” The Master of Elfhame gave Lemmy a thoughtful stare. “Basically what I’m asking is, have you seen anything suspicious while you were up here?” “I saw Sir Evan Klive attack His Grace the Duke,” the hooded one replied, with a nod toward the Grounds below. “HOLY FUMA!” Lemmy yelped as he dashed frantically back toward the stairs. ************* Before I even knew what was happening, I was lying flat on the ground. My face was throbbing with pain, and it sounded like somebody was ringing an enormous bell very close to my head. The clanging was accompanied by a pulsing light on the periphery of my vision. I realized that all the times Estmere had hit me in the past, he was only playing. This was completely different. Through the sound of the bell, I could hear my brother far away, saying, “GET UP, BASTARD!” I attempted a witty retort, but all I could manage was “Muhhhrgmrlh.” I tasted blood in the back of my throat. image After what seemed like a long time, I hauled myself into a kneeling position. The Festival Grounds lurched and spun around me in a most unsettling manner. “What in Fuma’s name is this about?” I groaned. “YOU RATTED OUT UTICA TO THE MARSHAL!” Estmere bellowed. “He asked me questions and I had to answer them,” I protested. “You know we don’t lie.” “YOU DIDN’T HAVE TO TELL HIM,” my brother roared. “Actually, I didn’t tell him,” I recalled. “I didn’t mention her at all. Uncle Roland already knew everything.” “BULLSHIT!!!” Estmere yelled. image Estmere took another swing at me, but I ducked under it. There was no reason to stand here and take a beating that I didn’t deserve; his reasons were clearly erroneous. I had just been through a long, difficult few days, and I was quite frankly sick and tired of putting up with everyone’s crap. With this in mind, I impulsively lunged in towards my Royal brother’s unguarded midsection and tackled him. “YOU DARE LAY HANDS ON YOUR PRINCE?!??” Estmere hollered as the two of us toppled to the ground. “Will you listen - oof - I didn’t tell the Marshal about you and Utica!” I tried to explain. “I swear, he already - ow - knew!!” “If that’s so - hey, quit it! - then how come he didn’t do anything about it until now?” “He -erff - said he didn’t care, as long as you were discreet!” image “Your Grace? Your Highness? Please calm down,” Lemmy whimpered, totally unsure what he should do. “Well then why, all of a sudden after you get taken in for questioning, does Utica disappear completely and Dad starts giving me the Stink Eye?” Estmere asked. “I don’t know - YOWCH!” I insisted, “but it’s not my fault!” ************** “Okay, well, if that’s your Solemn Word as an Elf,” Estmere conceded, “then I guess that’s good enough for me. You fight like an old lady, but I have to admit you’ve got a lot of moxie, little bro. Put ‘er there.” He held out his hand, and I reluctantly grasped it. “I wish you had just let me explain without beating me up,” I complained. “Heh heh, sorry about that, bro,” he chuckled. “I can send my herbalist over to patch you up if you want … if you’ll help me find out what happened to my Lady-love.” image “Hey O'Possum,” Estmere said to Lemmy, who snapped a nervous salute. “You’re an Internal Affairs Agent, right? Well, arrest that elf for assault and attempted kidnapping of my brother, Duke Adler.” The Prince pointed an accusing finger at the still-unconscious Sir Evan Klive. Lemmy rolled the fox over and shackled his hands together behind his back. “Okay, I’ll help you find Utica,” I said after a moment’s reflection. "Whatever happened to her is probably what happened to my mother. But you can keep your blasted herbalist; I don’t want his help.“ "Fine, be that way,” Estmere retorted. “But enduring pain when it’s not necessary isn’t tough, it’s just dumb.” “I want you to remember you’re the one who inflicted it,” I sneered. “But anyway, thanks for knocking out Sir Evan and rescuing me, sort of.” “No problem,” Estmere shrugged. It was something of a relief to know that the Changeling Initiative had been a dastardly plot, but this did not erase the fact that the authorities had been going along with it in the expectation that the sacrifice of lowfolk Swaplings would somehow grant new vitality to the elves. Unmasking Sir Evan as a villain only made the Royal cabinet complicit in his crimes, since they authorized the program to proceed. And they gave him a knighthood, for Fuma’s sake! All was not well at Court. I was going to have to tread lightly. “Lemmy, Sir Evan told me that the Changeling Program was a ruse,” I explained. “I doesn’t do what everyone thought it was supposed to do.” “What Changeling Program?” Lemmy asked. “Uh,” I stalled, “never mind about that. He was up to no good, and was afraid to leave the Grounds because he considered the bombing conspirators AND the Royal guards to be his enemies. He attempted to kidnap me in order to facilitate his escape from Albric Tor. That Persoc Tor dagger over there belongs to him.” Lemmy picked up the dagger, rifled through Sir Evan’s pockets without finding anything, and slapped the fox-elf awake. “SIR EVAN KLIVE,” he bellowed officiously, “YOU ARE NICKED!” image Sir Evan glowered and muttered villainously under his breath. “Did you find out anything about whoever was following us?” I asked, suddenly remembering why Lemmy had left me alone with Sir Evan in the first place. “It’s somebody extra sneaky,” Lemmy declared. “But for some reason they left a bunch of aphid husks behind. A pro of this caliber wouldn’t be so sloppy, so it must be a deliberate hint.” “Let me see the husks,” I insisted. “I may be able to find out something about our watcher.” I clasped the small wad of husks in my hand and concentrated, letting my mind open up to the psychometric impressions. image Suddenly I was experiencing all the pain and panic of an aphid being devoured alive by some sort of insect-like being. This was an amazingly bad idea. ******************* I dropped the aphid husks, turned, and vomited forcefully onto the ground. “I think maybe you better send for that herbalist after all, Your Highness,” Lemmy said to Estmere. “Yeah,” I coughed. “Do that.” Estmere ducked inside the Palace doorway, and a few minutes later he emerged with his herbalist in tow. image “YEP,” the herbalist croaked as he rubbed my face with his rough hands. “Youse is roughed up pretty good, I’ll say. Dat’s what yez gets fer pickin a fight wit somebody what’s stronger'n youse.” “I didn’t pick a fight with him,” I protested. “Shut it,” the herbalist snapped. “Wit all due respect o'course, Yer Grace,” he continued, as he smeared some ointment on my eye, nose, and lip. “Youse is just lucky my comely assistant is busy wit da changelings an ain’t here ta see dis, or she’d laugh yez ta shame fer sure.” image “An’ YOUSE!!” the herbalist bellowed, turning toward Estmere, who had been chuckling to himself in the background. “What’s da big idea, beatin up on dis little shrimp? Dere ain’t no honor in defeatin’ a opponent what ain’t woithy of yez!” “I thought Adler was interfering in my love life,” Estmere shrugged. “Dat’s about da only ting yez coulda said dat’d make any sense at all,” the herbalist admitted with a nod. I was amazed to feel that the pain had suddenly and completely vanished, my eye was no longer swollen, and my nose had stopped bleeding! image “What did you do to heal my injuries so quickly?” I asked the herbalist. “Just a little Qutmi ointment,” the turtle explained, “wit a little, whadda ya call it, accu-pressin’ an bodymagick, simple as one - two - tree.” “Could you teach me some of that?” I inquired excitedly. “Sure. It’s a vanishin’ art what needs ta be passed on to da nex generation.” **************** “Sorry to interrupt, Your Grace, but we are in the midst of an investigation,” Lemmy pointed out. “And we have a suspect in custody whom we’ve gotta do something with soon.” Oh, right. That. “No problem,” the herbalist shrugged. “I gotta get back ta de Changelings anyways. Me comely assistant ain’t gonna be too happy if I leaves ‘er alone wit 'em too long. Just look me up when yer ready ta loin sumtin, Yer Grace.” “Wait a second .. were the Changelings injured in the blast?” I asked. “No, dey’re fine. Just routine check-ups ta make sure dey ain’t diseased or nuttin’ an den dey will be let loose ta explore Faerie as dey please. Gotta go!” And with that, he turned and ambled back into the Palace. “So when did you last see Utica?” I asked my brother. “Yesterday morning,” he replied. “I, uh, had her in my room overnight, and she had snuck out through the Underworks not long before you came sneaking in. When I heard the drain cover moving, I thought it was her coming back - but it was you instead, ya little creep.” “Heh,” I chuckled. “So what happened to make you think I had betrayed your secret?” “Well, I knew you had been taken in for questioning, and last night Utica didn’t come to see me. I went out looking for her and could find no trace. Our trysting place at the tower was cleaned out, and at breakfast this morning Dad was giving me the evil eye.” “Did he say anything?” “No, but he’s acting like he knows what’s been going on.” “Your Highness, Your Grace, I hate to interrupt,” Lemmy interrupted, pointing to Sir Evan Klive still sitting sulkily on the ground. “But I’d really like to get this prisoner back to headquarters.” “Do you want to come with us?” I asked my brother. “Your Regal Authority might help get us into places we need to snoop around in … and your fighting prowess could be handy if we get in a scrape.” “Sounds like fun,” Estmere grinned. “Count me in, dude. I don’t have anything else to do today.” image A little while later, Sir Evan Klive was safely behind bars, and I was explaining the details of the case to Marshal Roland. “He pulled a knife on me and said he needed to escape, and that the Festival Arch had a purpose other than what was generally assumed. Then Estmere knocked him out and beat me up, and Lemmy came back without finding our follower, but he did find some aphid husks. I tried psychometry on the husks and I saw them being eaten by some sort of bug-lady and I got sick and the Palace herbalist healed me!” “A bug lady, you say?” the Marshal asked thoughtfully. “Yeah, she had crushing mandibles of death,” I recalled with a shudder. “Also antennae, four arms, and I think some kind of shell or wings on her back.” “Could be an Ixie,” the Marshal muttered. “That’s what I thought too,” Lemmy chimed in. “Though I kept hoping I was wrong.” “What’s an Ixie?” I asked. “Well, the creatures are potentially dangerous,” the Marshal explains. “They have certain innate Powers, are impulsive and prone to violence … and … they LIE.” I was horrified that such a being might be running loose somewhere in Albric Tor, and - even worse - it seemed to have focused its attention on me. image Sir Evan broke out into a villainous grin. “What’s your game, Klive?” I demanded, with an imperious glare. “HAH!” he barked, contemptuously. “Not only am I too pretty, but I am too valuable to stay in jail. I won’t even have to try to escape … nyeh-heh-heh … I will be out of here before the day is through.” “We’ll see about that!” the Marshal thundered. “Yes, we will, Your Highness,” Sir Evan sneered. “Meanwhile I don’t think I’ll be answering any questions.” He curled up on his cot with his back to everyone. “I’ll deal with him later,” the Marshal declared. “For now, the rest of you have an investigation to pursue. I suppose I cannot persuade Your Highness Prince Estmere to forgo this adventure?” “No way, Uncle,” Estmere stubbornly insisted. “I thought not,” the Marshal sighed with a shake of his head. “Agent O'Possum, if I might have a word?” image “Do not under any circumstances leave them unattended,” the Marshal hissed. “I am appalled in the first place that you left His Grace the Duke alone with an elf whose name is Evil Knave spelled backwards…” “But he was in charge of the Festival, sir!” Lemmy protested. “He checked out trustworthy.” “Events have proven otherwise,” the Marshal pointed out. “It would be dire enough had His Grace come to harm, but then to let the Crown Prince attack a knife-wielding maniac all by himself and unarmed …” “Unarmed, Uncle? Not while I have these,” Estmere gloated, holding up his fists. “Just be careful,” the Marshal pleaded. “The whole future of the Empire is right here in your little group.” “I’ll do better than my best, sir,” Lemmy gulped nervously. “Uncle Roland, may I have some of those hoof shavings that were in my pocket earlier?” I asked. "I believe they belong to Utica the Huntress, and that her disappearance has some bearing on the case. I think I can use the shavings to track her.“ image Not long afterward, I was leading my brother and Lemmy through the underworks as I concentrated on finding traces of Utica. "It’s sort of creepy that you can do that, bro,” Estmere whispered. I was too entranced to reply. ************* (At this point there is a text file with the actual image filenames, so we'll switch to that instead of copypasting from Tumblr.) ***************** "Dude, where exactly are you taking us?" my brother asked skeptically after I bumped into several walls and led the group down the same corridor three times. "I'm not sure," I murmured through the visionary haze of my intense concentration. "The path doubles back on itself. I think she went this way from here." We stumbled at last into the Minor Confluence. "Hey, I know where we are," Estmere exclaimed. "That one leads up into my bath chamber." He jiggled the doorknob, then said, "Locked. I wouldn't be surprised if the passage inside was now blocked with iron bars and masonry. Security crackdown because somebody couldn't resist snooping around." He gave me a meaningful look. "Why take us here, bro? We didn't need magic to know Utica came this way." "I'm getting signs of her on ALL the doors," I muttered in perplexity. "Maybe she tried the others when she found out mine was locked," Estmere theorized. He jiggled the handle of another door, also locked. "Try all the handles til you find one that opens," I suggested as I reached for the closest doorknob. It turned and the door opened. LUCKY! 1Image: 1119steamhall Inside was a small hall with yet more doors (all slightly ajar) which clearly dated from some exotic far-distant era. Everything about it seemed wrong. "CREEPY!" said Estmere as he shoved his way in. "I've never seen this part before. Which way now?" I followed clear traces of the Huntress out the far door and down some stairs. 2Image: 1119gator Suddenly an alligator with a long-handled mop clutched in his claw came lurking around the corner! I stifled a scream as Estmere stepped back and raised his fists. "Mercy me!" the gator exclaimed. "Official tour of inspection ain't scheduled fer another ten years, your worships. I'm afraid the place ain't quite presentable." "Er, we're not here to inspect the Underworks," I stammered. "We're looking for someone who might be lost." "A beautiful antelope femme," Estmere interjected. "Have you seen her?" "Ain't seen nobody wasn't on staff, Yer Ighness," the gator said with a tip of his cap. "But if a body was to get lost they'd most likely do it in the Maze of Mirrors yonder." He gestured with his non-mop-holding arm down a darkened corridor to our right. "Maze of Mirrors?? Why is there a Maze of Mirrors down here?" I asked, skeptically. "One o' Master Brunel's more whimsical ideas," the gator sighed wistfully. "It may protect some great secret. Nobody knows, cause nobody's ever come out what has once went in." "I think we'll skip the Maze of Mirrors," I declared. "The trail goes that way instead." After quite a bit more meandering and splashing through ankle-deep water in the lower tunnels, we emerged through a rough arch in a hillside. Before us was a smallish pond amidst a grove of trees. Sir Ravenmad was sitting casually on a stone next to the edge of the pond. 3Image: 1119outlet "Oh my," Ravenmad exclaimed with mixed delight and surprise. "I wasn't expecting a Royal Visit!" "I recognize this place," Estmere observed. "We're a good way outside the Capital. Utica's lodge is along that path, through those trees over there." "Indeed yes, Your Highness," Ravenmad confirmed, with a slight bow. "This is the Huntress's domain." "What are you doing here, Sir Ravenmad?" I asked, suspiciously. "On occasion when I tire of the hustle and bustle of the city, I like to come here and bask in this sylvan tranquility," the eccentric poet sighed. "Occasionally I watch the Huntress bathing. Ah yes, few things stir the soul and fire the imagination as the sight of a lovely young lass frolicking in the water amidst lush pastoral surroundings. Alas, the lady in question seems to be absent this day." ******************************************** 1Image: 1121pictureit I imagined Utica bathing in the pond. It did conjure up quite a pleasing mental image. I could well understand why Ravenmad would come out here to watch her. "HEY!" Estmere shouted indignantly. "Do you mean to say that you've been out here peeping, spying on my lady, you creepy old feather-duster?" "Not at all, Your Highness," Ravenmad protested nervously. "I sit here on this rock in plain view, and she cavorts in the water, in plain view, all quite honest and above-board, I assure you." "How often do you come out here and, uh, watch Utica cavort in the water?" I asked. "I'd say once or twice a week, on average," Ravenmad estimated. "Then you must be somewhat familiar with her schedule. When is she usually here and what does she usually do during the day?" "I don't follow her around, Your Grace. I imagine she spends a good bit of her time hunting & trapping in the woods, as well as teaching archery lessons. As far as what time she usually bathes, well, normally she would be here now. I can't imagine what's keeping her." "You sit here and watch my lady bathe, you creepy creep?!??" Estmere bellowed. "What sort of diabolical hold do you have over her??" "None at all, Your Highness," Ravenmad replied, obviously confused. "As far as I can tell, the Huntress enjoys being watched." Estmere clenched his fists and trembled for a few seconds. 2Image: 1121dismissed "Get out of my sight! NOW, dude!!!" he shrieked. Sir Ravenmad stood up, bowed quickly, and hurried into the Underworks with a muffled splash and rustling of feathers. "Oh, so me you'll beat to a pulp on the mere suspicion of having said something about your affair, but the guy who's actually watching your girlfriend bathe, you simply send away with an angry tone," I observed bitterly. "Not even a scolding, just an angry tone." "He's well liked at Court," Estmere pointed out. "You are not." That hurt, but I could see his point. "Well, as long as we're here we'd better check out her lodge or cabin or whatever it is," I said. "She calls it a lodge," Estmere informed me. "And take care to stay on the path. There's rabbit snares and bear traps and stuff in the thickets here." "Something's bothering me," I muttered as we threaded our way along the path. "It seems like Utica was everywhere last night, but we haven't found any tangible evidence nor anybody who has actually seen her since she left your rooms yesterday. And I've always wondered ... why exactly is she known as The Huntress?" "Well duh, obviously because she hunts things," Estmere snorted. "Yes, but WHY? Look at what breed she is: Herbivore! What's she doing hunting anything?" Estmere shrugged. "Everybody has to have a hobby I guess." The Huntress's lodge was in a picturesque clearing with a small vegetable garden and a modest field of hay. "See, this is the kind of thing you expect from a typical ungulate," I said, gesturing at the agricultural tableau. "Not rabbit snares and bear traps." 3Image: 1121hay As we approached closer, I noticed something peculiar about the crops. "This hay appears to have been rolled in," I observed. "Might you know anything about that, brother?" Estmere merely rubbed his chin and said "Hmmm." The door of the lodge was ajar, so we went in. We found Utica's quarters in an eerily familiar condition: Wardrobe open & empty, dresser drawers hurriedly cleaned out. "It looks like she left in a hurry," I stated. "Just like my mother," I added, with a slight quaver in my voice. "Well, let's search and see if we can find any clues as to where she went," Lemmy suggested. ********************************************* 1Image: 1121bow The three of us started methodically poking around in all the drawers and cupboards. I looked under the bed, where to my surprise I found an exquisitely carved Elven Bow. A tag tied onto it said "FOR ADLER" in what I assumed was Utica's handwriting. "WHOAH, guys, look what she left for me!" I breathed in awe. It really was a beautiful bow. "Um, lads, I think you'd better have a look at this," Lemmy called over his shoulder from a door which he had just opened. "Oh, that door!" Estmere exclaimed as he shouldered his way past the possum. "She never would tell me what was in here. She always referred to it as her Trophy Room, with a naughty smile." 2Image: 1121trophies "FUMA PRESERVE US!" Estmere croaked in amazement. "There must be ... hundreds of them!" Lemmy whispered. "Look, Estmere!" I exclaimed. "There's an empty one with your name on it!" Estmere turned and stumbled out of the room. "Are you all right?" I asked. "Please, dude, let's get out of here," he sobbed, looking at the floor. "I want ... I need to see a priest." "This room is full of evidence," I exclaimed. "Of what, I'm not sure, but it's evidence of something. We need to stay and investigate." "NO!!" Estmere wailed. "I'm getting out of here right now!" "I can't leave either of you alone out here," Lemmy insisted nervously. "You heard the Marshal's orders." "I guess we go with him, then," I conceded. I grabbed something which looked like an unfinished Hunting Trophy off a nearby workbench, and glanced at it briefly. It seemed to be a tiny effigy made of scraps of fabric and tufts of fur tied together with string and glued with some crusty, crumbly substance. The ones in the jars looked like people; I couldn't tell who this unfinished one was supposed to resemble. I shrugged and stuffed the Trophy into my pocket as I followed Lemmy and my brother out of the Huntress's lodge. I considered trying to read recent events from the crushed hay, but Estmere was stalking away too quickly; I didn't have time. Besides, I had a suspicion that I would have seen things I'd really rather not know about. As I caught up with Lemmy, I asked him: "Do you know of anyone else at Court suddenly packing up and leaving like this?" "Nope. But then again, I'm not really what you could call well-connected at Court." Neither was I, come to think of it. As Estmere pointed out earlier, I was not well liked at Court. However, he did not say that I was actively disliked. I felt pretty certain that if the Nobles only had a chance to get to know me, they'd all be extremely fond of me! As my mind wandered, I recalled my mother telling me that it was Utica's task to keep Estmere distracted until after the Festival. That definitely implied that they were co-conspirators, but I didn't recall ever seeing them together. "Hey, slow down," I called to my companions. "I'm gonna see if I can get a reading off of this bow. I can keep walking but just, um, somebody make sure I don't bump into anything or fall in a hole?" 3Image: 1123huntress I went into a trance and immediately saw a vision of Utica, shooting and whispering to her bow. "Hey, Adler," she whispered. "Mavis says she can set up a message to play for you just once and then disappear, so here goes. First, you can give up trying to find me, because I am an expert at covering my tracks. Second, tell Estmere I'm sorry ... no, wait, actually, don't tell him that because I'm only sorry I didn't get to finish with him. Mavis cautioned me against it, of course, but come on ... a CROWN PRINCE, that's an irresistible quarry ... and I could have helped you so much, with him in my pocket. She didn't want to do it that way. As honest as possible, that's Mavis for you. Anyway, it all hit the fan because the Front got impatient, so I've got to go. My trophies will give Internal Affairs plenty to keep them busy, but you know none of that is relevant. Use the distraction to your advantage. Mavis and I will be fine, living by our wits like we did when we were partners at Sheila's school. It'll be like old times. You keep practicing your shooting and your weird sexy Man-Wiles, and try not to break too many hearts, sweetie. It's a shame you were off-limits, because you'd have been SO much fun to take down. Eudora doesn't know how lucky she is. Anyway, do your thing and maybe I'll see you again when you're king." The image faded and I could get nothing else from the bow. "Looks like Utica left with my mother," I murmured in response to Lemmy's curious look. "She has obliterated her trail. I doubt we'll ever find either one of them." As we walked, I started to get tired of carrying the bow. It was long and awkward slung over my shoulder, so I tried to stuff it into the front of my jacket. To my surprise, it went in completely and disappeared. "That's Elfintory," Lemmy chuckled at my yelp of surprise. "See if you can take the bow back out, Your Grace." I reached into my jacket and felt around for a few seconds until I felt the bow in my hand, and pulled it out. "Cool," I said. "I'm gonna have to re-organize my stuff." "Don't put unwholesome things like that Trophy in it though," Lemmy whispered earnestly. Soon the three of us emerged in an alley downtown, and Estmere led us directly to the cathedral. Brother Matthew greeted us jovially as soon as we entered. ((*bold Bro. Matthew's speech*)) "Your Grace!" he boomed. There were other Priests of Fuma working in this joint; why did I always seem to get THIS one? "Your Highness," the monk intoned, with a bow. "I am honored that the promptings of your soul incline you to grace us with a visit." "Please, Brother Matthew," Estmere beseeched. "I need to be purified." "Why?" the monk asked. "Whatever is the matter?" "It's a delicate situation involving something like this," I explained, pulling the Trophy from my pocket and holding it out for Brother Matthew to see. 4Image: 1123egad "HER WHISKERS, Your Grace!" the monk bellowed. "Get that foul thing out of here, ere you taint the sanctity of Fuma's holy house!" "But what is it?" I asked. "Tis a blasphemous misapplication of the Lady's gift of Wiles," Brother Matthew thundered as he hustled me toward the door. "I've not seen its like since the last Apostate heretic was expelled. Now GO! Get rid of the accursed trinket lest its evil rub off on you!" "Uh, I can't leave the Prince here unescorted," Lemmy stammered nervously, "and I can't let Duke Adler wander by himself either." "Nonsense! His Highness is perfectly safe here; this is a house of worship. He must be washed in the Waters of Creation immediately! His soul is in peril from that .. that THING!" the monk pointed angrily at the Trophy in my hand. "Please destroy it immediately, Your Grace!" "Don't you have a proper Mephitist way to dispose of it?" I asked, holding the Trophy out to him. "UNCLEAN!" the monk yelped as he flinched away. "No, I dare not touch it. You must first destroy it with fire and then come back for your own purification." Brother Matthew turned and put his arm around Estmere's shoulder while rubbing his scalp with the knuckles of the other hand. The two of them walked slowly into the shadows of the sanctuary. "I guess we might as well report to the Marshal, tell him what we found out, and see if he has any ideas," I shrugged. ****************************************** Sergeant Wing gave me a skeptical look when Lemmy and I arrived at Marshal Roland's office. "Where's Is Ighness the prince?" he asked. "We left him at the Cathedral in the care of some monks," I explained. "He insisted," I added, in answer to the secretary's raised eyebrow. "Eel be none too pleased," Wing whispered as he jerked a thumb toward the inner office door. "Yer might be better off to come back later." "I think we need to report our new findings right away," I insisted. "Time may be of the essence." "Your funeral," Wing muttered as he knocked on the door. "Agent O'Possum and Is Grace Duke Adler," he called in response to a loud grumble from within. 1Image: 1123grrr Wing ushered us inside, and took his position behind the Marshal's chair. Marshal Roland himself was hunched over his desk, scowling furiously while he angrily chewed a cookie. "I hope to Fuma you have good news for me," he growled between mouthfuls. 2Image: 1124plop I was feeling a bit put off by my great-uncle's surly reception, so I unceremoniously produced the Trophy from my pocket and dropped it atop the clutter on the Marshal's desk. "We went to the lodge of Utica the Huntress," I related. "Inspector O'Possum discovered a trove of items there, which indicates that the Huntress may have had some kind of a hold on a number of figures around the Court. That number I would estimate in the hundreds, perhaps close to a thousand. And before you ask, NO, I had no idea she pursued this particular hobby when I helped arrange her getting together with my brother the Prince. When he saw the trophy room, Estmere fled to the Cathedral and insisted on staying there in order to be purified. Brother Matthew told me that this object is ceremonially unclean; I should destroy it with fire and then return to the Cathedral to purify myself from having had contact with it. I will leave its disposal to your discretion, uncle, but I do feel I should undergo the purification as soon as possible." Marshal Roland and Sergeant Wing stared, horrified, at the Trophy for several uncomfortable seconds. Finally Wing shifted and cleared his throat. "Shall, er, shall I put a kettle on, Yer Ighness?" he asked. 3Image: 1124aargh "OH WHAT'S THE USE, WING??" the Marshal groaned, with a gesture of utmost frustration. "If it's not bureaucrats interfering with my responsibilities, it's these bloody fools thwarting my every attempt to keep them safe from harm and free from disgrace. YOUNG PEOPLE! No sense of propriety! Fuma help me, I'm starting to think it may be time to retire." I was taken aback. Never would I have ever expected to see the legendary Marshal Roland completely lose his cool like this. Something must have been really bothering him. Suddenly I thought of Sir Evan Klive's vainglorious boast, and wondered ... "Did Sir Evan escape?" I asked, indelicately. "No, Your Grace, he did not escape," the Marhal thundered under lowered brows. "Then what's -" "HE WAS RELEASED." I blinked at my great-uncle in sheer stupefaction. "Why in the world ...?" I croaked. "Statecraft!" the Marshal blasted, pounding his fist on the desk. "Fuma-damned bloody Statecraft, that's why! Used to be, back in Irenaeus's day, when the Empire annexed territory we jolly well conquered it! Properly, with military might! But no, nowadays provinces are annexed by treaty and there's a vast elaborate network of deals and favors which I have to pussyfoot around instead of doing my job keeping the Empire safe!" I stood and stared, waiting for him to continue. "Basically, there's an extradition arrangement with Vulpitania, and an attache from the embassy arrived just after you left this morning to take Sir Evan into custody," the Marshal sighed. "It seems that Vulpitanian villains can only be tried in Vulpitanian court." "Let me guess," I hypothesized. "Vulpitanian courts never convict their own for crimes committed abroad, is that it? Can we at least get a transcript of the proceedings?" 4Image: 1126thatsjustit "No, that's the problem," the Marshal protested. "There is no Vulpitanian court! Part of the treaty terms required that the province dismantle its independent judiciary." "How can they require that criminals be tried in a court that doesn't exist?" I asked in perplexity. "You've struck directly at the heart of the matter, Nephew. They can't. Klive remains officially in custody, but once he reaches the border he will go free because there is no place to try him as the law requires. If he ever leaves Vulpitania, we can have him arrested, but all that means is that he will be sent home again!" "That's quite an oversight in the treaty terms," I mused. "How did it ever get agreed to like that?" "STATECRAFT!" the Marshal bellowed, pounding his fist on the desk again. "Those foxes are devious; you can't trust them, not a one of them..." "Well, take heart, Uncle," I encouraged. "Look on the bright side. Whatever nefarious manipulation Utica the Huntress was perpetrating has come to an end. We've saved the Crown Prince from becoming a victim of it, and you have a PILE of evidence to work with." "Yes, that's true," the Marshal admitted. "Security can only improve now that this previously unsuspected threat has been discovered and eliminated." "Now I really want to return to the Cathedral and be purified," I declared. "Shall I burn that Trophy, as the monk recommended, or would you rather hold onto it for now?" "Leave it. It needs to be examined and analyzed before we take any decisive action." With that, Lemmy and I departed and headed back to the Mephitist Cathedral. ******************************************** 1Image: 1126bromathias We were greeted in the Narthex by an elderly goat monk. "Who are you?" I asked. "I'm Brother Mathias," he bleated thinly. "Where's Brother Matthew?" "Feh," Mathias snorted disapprovingly. "You'll find Mister Popular in the undercroft with the Crown Prince, using the Font of Purification for some royal whim." He waved his hoof vaguely toward an archway with stairs leading down. "Thank you," I said as I turned to go; then I stopped and asked, "Just out of curiosity, have you ever been to Vulpitania?" "Such an oddly specific question, Your Grace," the goat mused. "In my youth I served a mission church in the Vulpitanian foothills." "What is the country like?" "Vulpitania is partly wooded, partly industrialized, situated mostly on a coastal plain with rugged mountains along its Southern border." "What were the people like?" "Devious," Brother Mathias declared. "Tricksy and utterly irredeemable. Sure, they're as truthful as any elf, but they have such a love of subterfuge - actual honesty is as foreign to them as flying is for swine. The whole country is decidedly Unseelie. I was glad to get away from there." I thanked Brother Mathias for his information, and headed down the stairs. 2Image: 1126purification We arrived in a vaulted chamber with a circular basin in the center. Estmere, dressed in an acolyte's robe, was seated in an attitude of prayer on the edge of the basin. Brother Matthew knelt beside him, monkeying with a pipe from which a thin trickle of water was dribbling. ((*bold Bro Matt's dialog*)) "The flow is obstructed somewhere below," the monk grunted. "This has been happening a lot lately." "Are you purified yet?" I asked Estmere. "My clothes have been burned," he explained. "But the ritual hasn't even started yet. I'm pretty much stuck here until they can get the Waters flowing into this pool. Did you destroy that ... THING?" "I turned it over to Marshal Roland. He will dispose of it after completing his investigation." "AW DUDE!" Estmere protested. "Did you have to take it to him??" "Yes," I insisted. "This is TOTALLY a matter pertaining to National Security." My brother sighed in exasperation. "Am I stuck here too, until the pool is filled?" I asked Brother Matthew. "Because I've really got important things to do." "You only touched the Item, correct?" the monk asked. "There wasn't one made for, er, from you, was there?" "I don't see how there could be," I clarified. "In that case, all you have to do is wash your hands & face, and pray to the Lady for your spiritual cleansing. There's just about enough water here for you to do that." "What exactly is the Trophy, anyway?" I asked as I knelt beside the stream of warm, sulfurous water. "What does it do? How does it work?" "This is not a proper subject to discuss in this holy place," Brother Matthew scowled. "Suffice it to say that the thing was a soul trap which can be used to enslave another and inflict harm on them from a distance. Thorough purification is required to break the bond between the effigy and its victim." "You say the flow has been obstructed a lot lately?" I asked as I waited for the feeble trickle to fill my cupped hands. "Does that have any ... Significant Import? Has there been ... Skulduggery going on down below?" "We did have that brother from Elfhame who went mad a while back," Brother Matthew recollected, "but I don't suspect any nefarious doings behind this. Some of our more traditional monks might consider it a Bad Omen, but honestly it's just the thermal vent playing up. Mineral deposits over time block up the passages, but eventually the water finds another way to escape." "Do you need anybody to go down and investigate?" I asked. "Somebody small and white and magical and clever perhaps?" "Didn't you just say we had important things to do, as in Not Here?" Lemmy whispered. "This might turn out to be important," I whispered back. "Suspicious things are afoot in the Underworks." "That's an interesting suggestion, Your Grace," Brother Matthew chuckled. "But we already have a team of experts on the job. They're VERY good." 3Image: 1127water Suddenly a spray of steamy, smelly water started gushing from the pipe. "See? What did I tell you! We can start the purification soon, if the flow maintains itself." I finished my ablutions with mixed disappointment and relief. Dim memories of tales I had heard about the perils of the Cathedral Undercroft began to surface in my mind after so rashly offering my services. 'Twould have been folly to venture below without at least a very large hammer, and I had no such implement about my person. It was just as well that I wouldn't have to follow through on my own recklessness. "Do you want us to wait around til you're done?" I asked my brother. 4Image: 1127sadest "No," Estmere moped. "You guys go ahead and continue the investigation. Don't wait up for me. I need to be alone with my misery. ...and monks. My misery and the Holy monks." He bowed his head in prayerful supplication as the sulfurous spring water lapped around his ankles and wisps of steam wafted around him. He looked so tragic and noble, I couldn't help thinking what an excellent king he would be. Then I turned and sauntered up the stairs. "Smell you later," I called back over my shoulder. "Fuma willing, amen!" Estmere and Brother Matthew intoned the traditional response in unison. ********************************************* Back on the street, Lemmy asked me what our next course of action would be. 1Image: 1127embassy "I'm gonna infiltrate the Vulpitanian embassy!" I declared. "Sir Evan Klive is our best lead, and I want to question him. They know where he is." "I don't like this plan," Lemmy protested. "Sir Evan already threatened you with a knife and tried to kidnap you. It could be dangerous." "That's what makes it a good plan," I grinned. "I'm going to sneak in unobserved. Give me ten minutes, then come in after me." I darted through the embassy gate and up the path, concentrating as hard as I could on the concept of mushrooms. I was a ghost. A fungus. A phantom. I was unnoticeable. I opened the door and snuck silently into the front lobby of the Vulpitanian embassy. A receptionist was seated behind a large desk at the opposite end of the room. Standing before the desk and talking to the receptionist was some sort of dashing officer type. I crept closer to listen in on their conversation. 2Image: 1127foxes "And what should I do," the receptionist was saying, "if a white-furred bastard carrying a bow sneaks in here, acting suspicious and pretending to be a mushroom?" "Why, you would need to report that straight away to me, Sweetcheeks," the officer schmoozed. I tensed up to run as soon as I heard the receptionist describe me, but the foxes continued their conversation as if I wasn't there. I stayed still and continued mushrooming. 3Image: 1128elfintory I checked my Elfintory to make sure I still had the Carved Elven Bow from Utica's Lodge. (The other two items were my sweet Rollie's Rangers badge, and a handful of hoof shavings mixed with mushroom crumbs.) The bow was not visible because I didn't currently have it equipped - which made me wonder how the vixen behind the desk knew I was carrying it. Maybe she was talking about someone else, but what were the odds of another elf employing such an absurd yet identical-sounding strategy? This seemed so unlikely as to absolutely rule out the possibility of coincidence. Since the foxes were completely ignoring me, I decided to stay still and listen to them talk some more. 4Image: 1128sweetcheeks For a Master of Wiles such as myself, this exchange was painfully amusing to witness. The officer was obviously mistaking the receptionist's Sleepy Eyes of Abject Boredom for Sultry Eyes of Come-Hither Desire. "That's right," he stated suavely. "If you spy any such miscreant entering these premises, then I, Security Attache Lieutenant Vizier Anton Sweetcheeks, am the person to report that to. Just come up to my (Sweetcheeks' that is) office on the second floor and deliver the intel directly to me, Sweetcheeks." "Uh huh," the receptionist nodded. "They've got leftover shoulder of lamb in the cantina," Sweetcheeks purred. "Shall I, Sweetcheeks, bring you some?" "No thanks," the receptionist sighed. "I already ate today." "Well, I, Sweetcheeks, need to get back to work," he grinned while shashaying off through a door at the opposite end of the room. "Vulpitania Vincit!" he called out, just as the door shut behind him. "Tool," the receptionist muttered under her breath. "MUCH too obvious for my tastes. A Vulpitanian without a dark secret is like a royal skunk without a horrible smell. No need to keep introducing yourself over and over as if my lack of interest is simply because I haven't noticed you, Sweetcheeks! BLUH! I've noticed! How could I not? Here at the front desk it is my job to notice things, so of course I notice everything. Even mushrooms, though they are very hard to notice, I can spot easily because they are delicious." **************************************** 1Image: 1128wheres "Given these incredible observational skills I have," the receptionist continued, "you'd think I would be able to keep track of my stapler. How am I going to affix these Top Secret Documents together to facilitate the secure filing of them, safely away from prying unauthorized eyes? It sure would be inconvenient for us if that cute-but-pesky Minor Duke ever got hold of them. OH WELL ..." She got up and swished into the room behind her, presumably to get a stapler. Something seemed weird about her tail, but I couldn't see it very well over the desk. 2Image: 1128topsecdocs She left the Top Secret Papers right here. And she said I was cute! ..among other things.. 3Image: 1129snifsnif The receptionist's remark about bad odors prompted me to turn my head, flip my tail around, and take a whiff, but I didn't smell anything. Precious seconds wasted! I realized with irritation that I had fallen for a simple Wile. I must be on guard! The vixen might return at any moment, and I hadn't yet decided what to do about these Top Secret Documents! I wasn't sure whether to take the documents or leave them here, but I was definitely going to look at them. 4Image: 1129topsecret The top page said: TOPE SECRET EYES ONELY Supper-Secret Floor Plans of teh Embussy DO NOT UNDER ANY CIRCUSTANCE allow that psky but ky00t Miner Duke to see this. it wood be MOST UNCONVENIENT for us SALV Sweatcheeks A quick psychometric reading showed Sweetcheeks handing the papers to the receptionist just before initiating the conversation I just witnessed. I was about to try reaching farther back into the papers' past, when suddenly the vixen re-emerged from the back room. I ducked down in front of the desk and diverted all my attention back to mushrooming. CRAP! I still had the Top Secret Documents in my hand! She was surely going to notice that they were gone! Inexplicably, she sat down and propped her head in her hands as if this was just another in a long series of boring, uneventful days. I also noted that she did not bring a stapler from the other room. ****************************************** I was considering the possibilities of sneaking upstairs and barging into the Security Attache Lieutenant Vizier's office, when I heard a muffled yell coming from somewhere - 1Image: 1129hescrazy - and Lemmy burst in through the front doors, at a full gallop. "SORRY, YOUR GRACE!" he yelled. "It hasn't been ten minutes, but I'm not staying out there! He's crazy!" The possum spotted the receptionist and dashed toward her. "Miss! Miss!" he panted. "Alert the militia! There's a madman in a giant mushroom suit -" 2Image: 1129tumble Lemmy failed to notice me as he rushed the desk. He tumbled headlong with a yelp of surprise, and crashed to the floor. 3Image: 1129outcold "Sir, only registered guests of the Vulpitanian Ambassador are allowed to sleep here," the receptionist explained calmly. "If you would like to petition His Excellency for asylum, his visiting hours are from 1 to 3 on alternate Tuesdays." This whole thing was starting to sound extremely suspicious. A madman in a mushroom suit? "Top Secret" Papers left deliberately for me to read? And what kind of moron misspells his own name? Unless Sweetcheeks and Sweatcheeks were two different people, with similar-sounding names and identical letters of rank .. but that was ridiculous. In any case, I wasn't leaving until I had found out something - and I couldn't just leave Lemmy unconscious on the floor... 4Image: 1130slither Still mushrooming intently, I stuffed the Top Secret Papers into my Elfintory, grabbed Lemmy's arms, and pulled him toward the door where I saw Sweetcheeks exit. I needed to get Lemmy out of sight, and I decided I might as well head upstairs and snoop around while I was here. "Sir!" the receptionist protested. "Slithering is expressly forbidden during daylight hours!" ****************************************** The receptionist turned toward a speaking tube on the wall behind her, but before she could use it ... 1Image: 1130entrance ... the doors open, and a sultry vixen came in, flanked by two Vulpitanian soldiers. It was the vixen changeling I saw in a psychometric vision, eating my stew! She struck a pose and looked around the room. She pulled a lollipop out of her mouth and said, "What is this dump?" "Call security," one of the soldiers said to the receptionist. "He's stacked up a bunch of crates and is shooting over the wall." I shook myself out of the daze which momentarily overcame me at the sight of the changeling, and hauled Lemmy through the door. There was a stairwell inside. I lugged the possum under the stairs and paused for a moment to catch my breath. 2Image: 1130downward Suddenly Sweetcheeks came rushing down the stairs, brandishing a rapier and yelling, "I, Sweetcheeks, am on the way!" He crashed through the door, and I could hear muffled but excited conversation in the foyer. I left Lemmy propped comfortably against the wall under the stairs and went up to the landing to peek outside. I wanted to see this troublesome character who was apparently shooting arrows at people in the street. 3Image: 1130maniac I noticed nothing out of the ordinary. The rogue archer must have fled when he heard that Sweetcheeks was coming. Obviously whatever was happening outside had stopped happening by now, so I figured I might as well concentrate on what I could do here, inside the embassy. Some sort of floor plan would have been nice, but since I didn't seem to have one I was just going to have to improvise. (In the confusion, I had completely forgotten about the Top Secret Papers.) Now then: I could sneak upstairs and try to eavesdrop on some top-secret conversations, but having no idea as to the layout of the place, I could very well be sneaking into a trap. Besides, what about Lemmy? I hated to leave him in the stairwell. What if he started snoring? Or, Fuma forbid, what if he was actually dead this time? I crept back down to the alcove under the stairs and checked Lemmy's pulse. Thank Fuma! He was alive! But how could I revive him without raising an alarm? I definitely didn't want to hang around here until nightfall to drag him out. I needed to waken my companion, and I needed do it quietly. I rummaged in his pockets; maybe he carried some smelling salts or something. 4Image: 1202gefiltoids Surprisingly, Lemmy wasn't carrying anything except pocket lint and a tin of Gefiltoids. These things were supposed to be pretty potent. *********************************************** MEANWHILE 1Image: 1202girltalk The vixen changeling perched on the edge of the desk and coolly regarded the receptionist. "Don't worry about all this," she said, gesturing at the room in general. "Boys are always fighting around me for some reason." "That's a nice dress," the receptionist observed. "Did you make it yourself?" "PFFFT, no. This is a genuine Gustaf of Belfast design. I'm Yolanda Vanessa Cognomena," she declared. "My father's a strong farmer - well, I mean my mortal father of course, because it turns out I'm actually an elf." "Most of us are around here," the receptionist responded. "And I am destined to marry the Prince and become Queen of Faerie," Yolanda continued. "How do you figure that?" the receptionist asked. "Obviously I was spirited away to be raised by mortals in order to protect me from my scheming evil fairy stepmother. Then I was whisked back home to Elfland where I successfully underwent a harrowing ordeal of confinement to prove myself worthy. Then the Royal Physician checked me out and I was sent here with an honor guard .. though I must confess, if this is to be my Nuptial Palace, so far I'm disappointed." "Get ready to be disappointed a lot, Princess," the receptionist remarked wryly. "This isn't a Nuptial Palace; this is the Vulpitanian Embassy. The Crown Prince is a skunk, and can only marry a skunk. Oh, and I'm Secretarial Administrative Liaison Vixen Alice Chetsweeks, in case you were wondering." "I wasn't," Yolanda sniffed contemptuously. 2Image: 1202vixsniff Yolanda sniffed again. "What is that enticing aroma?" she asked as she slid off the desk and followed her nose toward the cantina. 3Image: 1202cantina "Greetings, Milady," the cantina counter man said as he brandished his ice-cream scoop in a convivial manner. "I'm Service Associate Lunchroom Virtuoso Albert Wheatchex here to provide you with whatever provender you desire - as long as it's leftover shoulder of lamb. This evening's meal is not quite ready yet, I'm afraid." "Sounds tasty," Yolanda opined. "But what I'm looking for is a sort of savory, delicious stew they gave me during my imprisonment in the Palace Dungeon. Have you got any of that?" "I'm afraid I haven't, Milady," Wheatchex sighed reluctantly. 4Image: 1203distraction Yolanda Vanessa Cognomena was a vixen who knew what she wanted, and right now she wanted STEW! That prison stew was the most delicious thing she had ever tasted; even better than the exotic dishes made by Pierre (the foreign chef her father hired the year she refused to eat any more pork & potatoes.) She could smell something that made her think of stew. She knew it was here somewhere! *********************************** 1Image: 1202revive I dropped two Gefiltoids into the possum's gaping maw and hoped for the best. He immediately choked and started coughing, so I elevated his head and said "Ssshhh" as quietly (yet urgently) as I could. 2Image: 1202bawww A few seconds later, the door banged open, and someone I could only assume was Sweetcheeks ran howling up the stairs. "Your Grace?" Lemmy mumbled as his eyelids fluttered open. "Whass going on??" I explained that during my daring infiltration, I noticed that the vulpitanian embassy was under some form of attack, and I took the opportunity to cunningly liberate some top secret documents. I then established a stronghold within the enemy camp (here under the stairs) from which to continue our reconnaissance. "Where are those secret documents now?" he asked. "Um, I don't know," I confessed. "I got confused and, well, I seem to have misplaced them while I was dragging you in here." 3Image: 1203hithere Suddenly the door opened! I started mushrooming immediately, almost purely by reflex. The vixen changeling crept into the alcove under the stairs and started sniffing me. "Hi," she said, pulling a lollipop out of her mouth. "You smell good." "Uh," I whimpered. "How is it you are able to notice me?" "Oh, are you supposed to be invisible or something?" she blinked in confusion. "No, just very hard to see." "Hey," she said, narrowing her eye. "Are you a skunk? Are you royalty? Do you know anything about the stew at the palace dungeon?" "I am a skunk," I admitted. "I'm not really considered royalty around here, but I am the King's bastard son, and yes, I made the stew for the changelings." 4Image: 1203urmine "Mine!" the changeling sighed, glomming onto me with a vice-like grip. "You're the one I was destined to marry, I'm certain of it! Now whisk me away on your magic carpet and shower me with jewels and fresh fruit!" "Um, not gonna happen," I pointed out. "Why not? OHHH, more Elfy tricks and tests, is it? I have to guess your name, right? And if I get it correct then you will be mine to command until the end of time!" "Where in the world did you get such outlandish ideas?" "Rumpleskilsaw!" she exclaimed. "Let me know if I'm getting warm. Is it Lester Chalybeat? Jambalaya? Rufus!" **************************************** 1Image: 1203amscray "Well, it looks like our cover is completely blown," Lemmy sighed as I tried to extricate myself from the vixen changeling's clutches. "We might as well get out of here before things escalate out of hand." 2Image: 1203theeye Suddenly in the midst of our tussling, the vixen let out a yelp of dismay. "Hey NO!" she screeched as she tried to pull away from me. "Don't uncover my Bad Eye!" 3Image: 1203fire The vixen covered her face with her hands, but not quickly enough. A spot on the banister which she had looked at with her Bad Eye was now crackling with flames. "So," I said to Lemmy. "I believe you said something about retreating." "I did mention that," the possum confirmed. The two of us strode calmly but quickly to the stairwell doors and threw them open to see - 4Image: 1203pandemonium - a scene of COMPLETE PANDEMONIUM!! There was so much happening, I could not possibly take it all in. If I were to ask an artist to depict this chaos, he would most likely throw his pen down in utter disgust, and then punch me viciously in the genitals. Foxes of all ranks and descriptions were running pell-mell, the front door was wide open, and somebody I couldn't see was yelling in a loud, booming voice: 5Image: 1203herald "I AM THE HERALD OF WINTER, BITCHES!" "CONSIDER YOUR UTTERLY RIDICULOUS SELVES DULY NOTIFIED!!" "MOVING DAY IS AT HAND!!!" ************************************* 1Image: 1203lemmyhero Suddenly Lemmy sprung forward and dove across the receptionist's desk while shouting "NOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!" 2Image: 1205winter Lemmy tackled the receptionist to the ground behind the desk just in time, as an arrow narrowly missed both of them and thwacked into the wall. A banner proclaiming "*WINTER*" unfurled from the embedded arrow. "Miss?" Lemmy asked, urgently. "Are you all right, miss?" "GLRRGHL," Miss Chetsweeks responded, gratefully. 3Image: 1205allout Seeing that the receptionist was overcome by the excitement of the moment, Lemmy scooped her up in his arms as he stood and yelled: "THE BUILDING IS ON FIRE! EVERYBODY OUT!" 4Image: 1205foxodus There followed a general stampede toward the door. All of the foxes seemed to have grabbed whatever they could carry. SALV Sweetcheeks rushed past, carrying a large grandfather clock. A rather stout, important-looking fox with a monocle and lots of medals on a sash waddled out, carrying two portmanteaux. I stopped him and asked, "Pardon me sir, but are you the ranking authority here?" "Indeed I am, young mang" the fox answered. His Vulpitanian accent was quite thick. "Supreme Ambassador Lord Viscount Anthony Sweatcheeks, at your surface. Can you maek this quick? Its movving day, after all." "Uh, well, I was looking for Sir Evan Klive," I began. "Teh villain???" SALV Sweatcheeks interrupted. "Oh, sorry my lad, but he was put on a coatch for home rite away when we extra-didied him. Half way to Vluptiania by now Im affraid." He picked up his bags and hurried off. ******************************************* Info Break! THE COMING OF WINTER Moving Day is the official start of Winter, and is the signal for the Royal Family and the Court to move to the Winter Capital in Persoc Tor to the South. White-furred Snow Elves from Frostheim bring winter with them, but in order to actually enforce it they must proclaim Winter by posting notices in crucial locations throughout the city. If they are successfully prevented in this task, then Winter is canceled that year, and they have to go back home. I have been told told that Winter used to come inexorably every year, but King Irenaeus hated cold weather, and he struck some kind of deal with the Frost Lord, resulting in the present delightfully quaint - and violent - tradition. Image: 1208wendigo Some details of this bargain can be found in the _Borealikon_, which chronicles Irenaus' Northern campaign of conquest through Elfhame and the Wild Snows, up into Frostheim (which he left without conquering, for unexplained reasons.) Alas, there is much debate regarding the authenticity of this source. Though it is admittedly ancient, scholars are now in almost universal agreement that the illustration showing the parley between Irenaeus and the "Winter King" is misplaced in the chronology and has been used to illustrate the wrong event. The first clue is that the ruler of Frostheim is called the Frost Lord, not the Winter King. The enigmatic initials on the other character's belt seem to identify him as Wendigo Klondike, young Prince Irenaeus's college roommate. The second clue is that the Borealikon illustrator has shown Irenaeus with a tail, which he had lost in battle (or, according to some seditious and treasonous sources, in a ghastly washing-day accident) prior to this event. For a while, Irenaeus observed the formality of wearing a false tail during State functions, since ancient law forbade an elf who was maimed or deformed from holding a position of kingship. But by the time his armies reached Frostheim, he had dispensed with all such ceremonial frippery. Image: 1208frostlord This image from the recently rediscovered Sketchbook of the Painting Master of Donnerblitzenhoff is contemporaneous with Irenaeus' historic visit to the capitol of Frostheim. It shows the king naked to the waist save for a baldric and broadsword, his leather breeks, his glorious white fur bespattered with blood stains - as his official army biographer described him during that time. It also depicts the Frost Lord as he was then (and still is today) - a thin, wizened old creature of indeterminate species. ********************************************* 1Image: 1205mustbe Within minutes the street was empty, save for me and Lemmy and the two vixens. Yolanda was clinging to me possessively, and Miss Chetsweeks was draped, unconscious, over Lemmy's arm. "What was all that, Malsquando, honey?" Yolanda asked. "Moving Day," I answered, slowly. "The first day of officially proclaimed Winter. Traditionally, snow elves from Frostheim arrive to announce it, and if they fail to properly complete their task then winter can be forestalled. The last Moving Day I can remember was when I was a little elflet. I knew there was a bit of pageantry as each side puts up a token resistance, but I wasn't aware it could be quite so violent." "In my old neighborhood we used to get a polar bear smashing glass bottles and roaring that winter was nigh," Lemmy contributed. "We could stop him from reaching the Eastside Plaza and posting his notice simply by putting lots of _full_ bottles in his path. Every year he would pass out a block away from his goal. I wonder if he finally made it this year." "Hey, um, you," I said, turning to the vixen changeling hanging on my shoulder. "What's your name? We haven't been properly introduced." "Tell me yours first," she grinned. "PIPPIN! It's Pippin, isn't it?" "It's Adler," I admitted. "And no, knowing it does not entitle you to a pot of gold." She looked visibly crestfallen. "I'm Yolanda," she whispered. "What's the deal with your eye?" I pried insensitively. "It's cursed," she sayid, suddenly bashful. "Misfortunes happen when I look at things with it. It's never set stuff on fire before, though. I was wondering if maybe," she smiled fetchingly at me. "Maybe True Love's Kiss could cure me?" "I'm already seeing someone," I blurted. "And anyway, I hardly know you." "Well I'm going to find out where you keep your heart buried, and I'll steal it and then you'll have to fall madly in love with me and make me your queen." I decided to ignore the changeling's bizarre remarks as the Vulpitanian embassy gently exploded behind us. "Let's get out of here," I sighed. "I am not looking forward to explaining all of this to Marshal Roland." "It's Moving Day, Your Grace," Lemmy pointed out. "You may not have to. At least, not for a while." "Maybe I could hide out in the Royal Steam Baths and just spend the winter there," I pondered. "That's the coward's way out, Your Grace," Lemmy scowled disapprovingly. "Say..." I inquired, "you were sequestered with the other changelings, right? Was there by any chance a female skunk-elf among you?" 2Image: 1206whyyou "You've got some nerve!" Yolanda barked. "Asking me about other women as if I'm not even here!" "She's betrothed to my brother the Crown Prince," I explained. "And I need to know if she was there." "No skunks," Yolanda pouted. "There was a very serious eagle guy, a little raccoon kid, a dorky mole, a ridiculous goat and a lizard who didn't say much. That's it." "So there were only six," I mused aloud. "Oh, and kindly remove your hand from my jacket. You won't find anything of use to you in there." (line) 3Image: 1206slyfox "That's what you think," Yolanda thought as she deftly plucked some Top Secret Papers from a hidden area of my Elfintory. "I can't read the Elvish writing on the front page, but the second page is obviously a map, probably showing the location where your heart is hidden (since you've obviously replaced it with one of cold, hard diamond.) When I get the chance, I'm going to find your heart and warm it up, thereby making you my love-slave for all time - or at least as long as I keep the heart in my possession. It will be SOOOO romantic, just like in the fairy stories. And then I will become a queen." (line) "We really should head back to HQ as quickly as possible and report," Lemmy pointed out. "You're right, of course," I admitted. "But still, I've had a very exhausting morning and I need some time alone" (I cast a quick look at Yolanda) "to think of the best way to present all this to the Marshal." "Well, you're in charge, Your Grace," Lemmy replied with a shrug. "To the Steam Baths, then!" I headed off not very quickly in that direction with Yolanda in tow, and Lemmy awkwardly dragging the unconscious receptionist. 4Image: 1206ruok After a block or so, the receptionist started to stir. "How are you feeling, miss?" Lemmy asked, solicitously. "UGH!" the vixen answered. "If you'll let go of me, I think I can stand on my own!" ************************************** 1Image: 1206whateyes The receptionist dusted herself off and adjusted her suit. She seemed embarrassed for some reason. The four of us walked farther til we reached the Royal Steam Baths. 2Image: 1206winteronly A massive white bear slouched behind the reception counter. "That's him!" Lemmy whispered. "The polar bear with the bottles from my old neighborhood!" "The baths are closed for the season," the bear grumbled. "Winter personnel only." "Winter?" I protesed. "No way! Did you guys actually post all the notices already? Or are you just messing with me?" "Elves do not Mess With the truth," the bear scowled. "We got ourselves organized this time. It's been, what, sixteen years since the last Winter? You guys are WAY overdue." 3Image: 1208wheedle "Come on, buddy!" I wheedled. "Help a white-furred brother out here. I just need a quick hot soak and then I'm gone!" "Nice try, but you're no Snow Elf," the bear scoffed. "Winter Personnel only, like I said." 4Image: 1208flashbadge "I'm not kidding around here!" I declared as I pulled out my Rollie's Rangers badge. "I have Top Security Clearance! Now let me in!" "Old Roly-Poly has no authority over me," the bear yawned. "I repeat, Winter Personnel only." "OH COME ON!" I yelled in exasperation. "Why do Snow Elves need a steam bath anyway?? You're just using winter as an excuse to monopolize all of Albric Tor's luxuries!" "That's Winter with a capital W," the bear corrected. "And you're right, we are hogging all the luxuries, and do you know why? Because Frostheim is the most boring, dismal, and bleak realm in all of Faerie, and Frigg-dang-it, we have EARNED our right to spend a few months living it up down here. As for us needing a steam bath, we don't. For the Season's duration, this facility is repurposed as a skating rink and Frigidarium, for Winter Personnel only!! But hey, you know what? Since you're so anxious to get in, maybe I WILL allow you the privilege. I'm sure you will enjoy sliding around on the ice and basking on a nice, relaxing Chilled Slab." "I have strong reservations about this, Your Grace," Lemmy and Miss Chetsweeks said in unison ... after which they grinned foolishly at each other. "No, I don't reckon I need that," I grumbled as I pocketed my badge. "Then toddle off to Persoc with the rest of the warm-bloods," the bear grumbled, with a dismissive wave of his paws. For a moment I considered attempting to sneak back into Estmere's private bath, but then I remembered that the passage I had used was now blocked, and I had no idea how to intentionally infiltrate the Palace. Besides, I got the impression that I was already treading on thin ice with my half-brother, and I didn't want to get into hot water with him. Not literally of course. Actual hot water I might not have minded .. but .. oh, you know what, forget it! On with the story! **************************************** At that moment, behind my back: Image: 1208themap While I was haggling with the polar bear, Yolanda briefly pulled Miss Chetsweeks aside. "Hey sis, what does this say?" she whispered, showing Miss Chetsweeks the papers she stole from my Elfintory. "Oh dear," Miss Chetsweeks replied in surprise. "These were meant for Duke Adler. You should get rid of them and forget all about them. I'm pretty sure that location has already exploded, anyway." Yolanda took a few seconds to think about it, and then: Image: 1210shock "EXPLODED??" she gasped. "Poor Adler!" "Ssshhh," Miss Chetsweeks hissed. "That's Top Secret. No sense upsetting him about it. It's too late to make any difference now, regardless." **************************************** "Well, what now?" I asked everyone. "I don't think we want to stay here in Albric Tor while Winter is in progress. For the, uh, obvious reasons," I shuddered. "But where to go? We could follow the Court to Persoc Tor, but that seems awfully predictable. Perhaps we could go for a sojourn in the lowfolk lands, if the lady Yolanda would guide us?" 1Image: 1210thhpt "Forget it!" Yolanda objected. "I just got here and I'm not going back to that crappy un-magical place any time soon. Not for money, not for fame, not even for True Love. My answer is no, no, NO!!" 2Image: 1210objections "Plus it seems like running away from so much that concerns us here," Lemmy pointed out. "What about our investigation?" "I don't see how we can pursue it with Albric Tor all closed up and frozen over, and with You Know Who taking charge," I replied. "Our best lead has escaped to Vulpitania, and ... say, maybe we could go there ..." I looked inquiringly at Miss Chetsweeks. "I can't go," she said. "I'm the best Secretarial Administrative Liaison Vixen they have, and my services will be required at the Vulpitanian Winter embassy in Persoc Tor. Even if I had no such obligation, I still wouldn't go home. Not with all of you in tow. My people are extremely suspicious by nature. Plus, Winter is brutal up there." While I was pondering what to do, a large coach rolled up, and Marshal Roland poked his head out the window. 3Image: 1210letsmove "Ah there you are, nephew!" he chortled. "I've been searching all over. Winter is here! Isn't it marvelous? They caught us unaware this time by using clever disguises! Feel that nip in the air! I've taken the liberty of packing your things - yours too, Agent O'Possum - and there's plenty of room aboard this coach for you and your, ah, lovely companions. I've not seen Persoc Tor in ages! Why, I can almost taste those heavenly peach tarts already! Climb in lad, climb in! You can tell me on the way, all the latest developments in your investigation." 4Image: 1210pursuit Well! It seemed that the decision had been made for us. We gladly climbed aboard the Marshal's coach, but I couldn't shake the feeling that I had forgotten something important. ************************************************* 1Image: 1211bugs "Why are there so many flies in here?" I demanded, after just a few minutes inside the coach. 2Image: 1211toojolly "The coach was in the stables, and we didn't have time to air it out properly before Winter descended," the Marshal explained. "Isn't it marvelous? I remember one year, your grandfather and I had to ride in a trunk lashed to the roof because Dad and Mom and Dad's Concubine and a string trio all had to share the interior of the coach .. and it was so COLD we burrowed under the coats, and when we reached the inn Mom almost fainted because she thought we had fallen out on the road. OH and we used to play a game of counting the flies because the coach ride to Persoc Tor is always full of them. You should try it; it's a fine diversion!" 3Image: 1211ourside "If it's all the same to you, sir," I sassed, "I would rather spend the time productively, by reviewing the details of my investigation." "Ah. Of course," the Marshal acquiesced. "Please proceed." "Well, it seems to have all started when some barrels were put in an odd place at the brewery, against the wall adjoining the Festival Grounds. They exploded, knocking a hole in the wall and damaging the Festival Arch, also setting off some volatile fireworks that had coincidentally been left there at precisely that moment. Damage to the arch allowed a, um," I hesitated, not sure how much of this I should say in front of the others. "A certain metaphysical substance to escape into the aether, thus rendering the Arch useless for its intended purpose in the ceremony involving the changelings. At that moment, apparently, both my mother and Utica the Huntress were packing their bags to make a hasty getaway. My mother left me a message telling me that the F.E.L.F. had been responsible for the sabotage, and Utica left me a message to the same effect." "Utica left you a message?" the Marshal interrupted. "Recorded on the bow she left for me to find in her lodge. It was designed to play only once; the bow is now completely blank. Where was I? Oh yes: Sir Evan Klive, unlike the two femmes, was feeling paranoid and trapped in the Grounds since he considered both the F.E.L.F. and the Royal Guard to be enemies. He tried to take me hostage in order to facilitate his escape, but was thwarted by the timely intervention of my half-brother. Where is Estmere, by the way?" "I assume he was still at the Cathedral," the Marshal explained. "As soon as Winter was declared, a Royal Chaise would have been sent round to collect him. No doubt we will meet him when we reach Persoc Tor. Please, continue your synopsis; I am finding this to be quite fascinating." "Before he was knocked unconscious, Sir Evan told me that the Arch and its associated, um, plan was originally devised by his father, who had been invited from Vulpitania by my grandfather, King Adler. What do you know about that?" "Ah," the Marshal said, rather uncomfortably. "The Commission on Population Concerns had got wind of his research. It was quite revolutionary, quite groundbreaking, and at first we thought it offered some hope, but when your grandfather (my brother) learned what costs were involved, he refused to consider it any further. Your father, alas, proved more persuadable." "How did Sir Evan receive a knighthood?" I asked. "Meritorious service to the realm, obviously, but I am not sure of the details," the Marshal shrugged. "Miss Chetsweeks, you work at the Vulpitanian Embassy," I addressed the vixen on the seat across from me. "Do you know anything about Sir Evan Klive?" "Hmm?" she said, seemingly distracted from a reverie. "Sir Evan Klive," I repeated. "The villain? I can't say much about him. He was brought in, processed, and put on a coach for Vulpitania immediately. That's it." "She works at the Vulpitanian Embassy?" the Marshal asked, incredulously. "How exactly did you pick up these two vixens, Your Grace?" "Well, before he was knocked unconscious, Sir Evan began to tell me that the Arch was not meant to deal with, er, Population Concerns, but in fact had some other purpose. After learning that he had been extradited into Vulpitanian custody, I decided to go to the Embassy to question him. However, he was already gone, and the Embassy was thrown into chaos by the arrival of the Winter Emissary. Miss Chetsweeks is the front desk receptionist. Lemmy saved her from what would have been a lethal arrow shot from the Emissary." "Yes, they were much more aggressive and savagely efficient than I've seen them in a long time," the Marshal interjected. "And Yolanda," I continued, "is a changeling. She was escorted into the Embassy while I was there, and she .. well .. she sniffed out where Lemmy and I were hiding during the brouhaha with the Winter Emissary. Why exactly was she brought to the Embassy in the first place?" Yolanda shrugged and Miss Chetsweeks said, "That information is above my pay grade, Your Grace." "Anyway, I guess Miss Chetsweeks is billeted at the Embassy, but Yolanda needs a place to stay," I proceeded. "She doesn't know much about Faerie yet, and she has a Cursed Eye problem, which is basically just a really cool Elfish Power if you ask me, but some folks might have an issue with it ..." I trailed off with a vague shrug. 4Image: 1211theirside Yolanda sighed and grinned at me across the coach. "Very interesting, Your Grace," the Marshal mused. "Is there anything else of import which you haven't mentioned?" "Hmmm," I thought. "Oh, we did discover that I am being followed by an ixie, and .. oh yeah! Somebody planted that incriminating letter at Dame Chitterleigh's place! Is she coming to Persoc Tor, too?" "I believe so, yes," the Marshal stated. "Everyone who can afford to do so will be leaving Albric Tor. Now that winter has arrived, you know, there's a very real threat of conscription by ..." he lowered his voice to an ominous whisper. "The Kringle." Everyone except Yolanda scowled and looked at the floor. "Fuma forbid," Lemmy muttered, rubbing his own knuckles on his scalp. "But let's not discuss such unpleasant things," the Marshal insisted, with forced cheerfulness. "About halfway to Persoc Tor there is an inn run by an elderly goat couple, assuming they're still alive. The inn is likely to be crowded with Winter travelers, and there's no guarantee they will have a room. Shall we stop when we get there, or simply change ants and proceed on to the Southern capital?" ***************************************** "I think we should just change ants and keep going," I opined. "By the way, where am I going to stay? I don't recall if my mother kept a place at Persoc Tor." "Palace staff are provided comfortable accommodations," the Marshal pointed out. "In any case, you needn't worry. We will find a place for you." 1Image: 1212bump Suddenly the coach seemed to leap into the air. It landed with a crash and lurched to a stop. 2Image: 1212sorrysir The coachman came around to the window and apologetically doffed his hat. "Sorry, Your Highness," he said. "We seem to have run over a stone or a pothole, and the front wheel is completely ruined. It'll need to be repaired. Fortunately, the inn is just in sight so it'll be a short walk there." "Horace??" I boggled upon seeing my kitchen colleague. "Hello, Your Grace," he nodded cheerfully. "When there isn't a big feast to prepare, driving coaches is my regular job. It's good to have more than one skill, my mother always used to say." "It looks like we'll be staying at the inn after all," the Marshal exclaimed, without a trace of regret. "Horace, you stay here with the coach and luggage. We'll send someone to fetch you, and see if there's a wheelwright available." We all trundled out of the coach and set off toward the inn. The Marshal didn't move as fast as the others, and in a matter of minutes he was completely winded. "Go ahead," he panted, doubled over with one hand on his knee, and waving the other vaguely in the direction of the inn. "I'll catch up in a moment." I lingered with him as Lemmy and the vixens proceeded down the road. "Uncle," I whispered. "I've been meaning to ask - what happens to the elf's spiritual essence, during the Ferifax Ceremony, when the swapling's essence is put in?" "As far as I know, it remains, and the two mingle," the Marshal theorized. "However, I'm not certain about that. The Vulpitanian thaumaturgy involved was extremely abstract." We kept walking, and after a while I strolled (and the Marshal waddled, panting and wheezing) into the inn yard. It was eerily quiet. "I wonder where everyone is," the Marshal puffed. "This place should be bustling with activity. And, come to think of it, numerous coaches and carriages should be passing us on the road." He looked around, momentarily confused, then pushed on the heavy oaken door. We entered the inn. Its large front room was empty save for Lemmy, Yolanda, and Miss Chetsweeks seated at one end of a long table. A pair of elderly goat-elves greeted us with ingratiating expressions and urged us to sit with the rest of our company. "Where is everyone?" the Marshal asked, mystified. "Many have already left, Your Highness," the innkeeper said with a forced smile, "and it may well be that just as many are yet to arrive. The good news is, we've plenty of rooms available. We've sent Gunther out to fetch Gomer and see to your coach. Won't you have some supper?" The Marshal's eyes lit up at this suggestion, and he nodded in agreement. "You're in for a real treat," he confided to the rest of the group as the old goats shuffled off to the pantry. 3Image: 1212isthisall After our hosts laid out a spread of dried fish, day-old bread, hard cheese, a single creampuff - and overflowing tankards of excellent ale - the Marshal turned to them with a look of offended disbelief. "Is this some kind of joke?" he bellowed. "Where's the rest??" "Yeah," Yolanda chimed in. "Where's the stew? I'm not eating this junk. Except that creampuff; I'll take that." "I think NOT, young lady," the Marshal growled, grabbing Yolanda's wrist as she reached for the pastry. "That is mine by privilege of rank, not to mention you should always yield to your elders in matters of dessert." "NO FAIR!" Yolanda wailed as the Marshal crammed the creampuff into his mouth. "Imbeeb!" Marshal Roland agrees around a mouthful of puff. "Vif fing if FTALE!" After chewing, swallowing, and washing it down with a generous gulp of ale, he turned to the innkeeper. "Explain yourself, sir! What is the meaning of the deplorable board with which you have presented us?" "Well, Your Higness ..." the innkeeper began, wringing his hooves. "It's IM!" the innkeeper's wife interjected. "Showed oop this mornin' an' froitened em all awoy! We've no oideer 'ooee is, boot awl ee doos is flowt aboot, starin an' owlin at folk wot ta chill one's blood! Eel droive oos roit owta bizniss, ee will!" "What?" the Marshal asked with a shake of his head. "A specter, sir," the innkeeper explained. "Frightened away all the guests and then focused its activity on the kitchen. Nobody can go in there, sir." "Specters, bah!" the Marshal snorted. "Ridiculous! Unheard of!" "All the same, our kitchen staff's deserted, and there's no hot dinner to be had, I'm afraid." "I know my way around a kitchen," I heard myself saying before I could stop it. "I'll take a look, and if the specter doesn't bother me, I'll whip up a soup or something." "Are you sure that's wise, Your Grace?" Lemmy asked me. "If you hear a scream, or if I'm not back in five minutes, come in after me," I said with a pat on his shoulder as I got up. Sure enough, there was a specter in the kitchen. It was a little startling when I first saw it, but all it was doing was just sort of floating there in front of the stove, being half-transparent. It was sort of disappointing, actually. It ... oddly enough, it looked a bit like Sir Evan Klive. I stepped closer to get a better look. 4Image: 1212gggghost The specter pointed its ghostly claw at me and howled "DUUKE AAADLERRR .... AVENNGE MMEEEEEE ...." I decided to quickly and calmly step backward out of the kitchen and back into the dining room. I turned around and started to say, "Well, it turns out there really IS a spec-" ************************************************* 1Image: 1212badnews Brother Mathias, the cranky priest from the Cathedral, was standing and facing the Marshal who was also standing, clutching the table and looking very ill. Did he choke on a fish bone, perhaps? Lemmy was sitting there, stunned, with a piece of cheese poised halfway to his mouth. "Great ... FUMA!" Marshal Roland whispered. Everyone remained motionless. It was so silent you could hear a pin drop. Instead I heard Yolanda say "Um, what's going on?" "What is going on?" I reiterated. "Uncle, are you all right? What's happened?" 2Image: 1213imustgo "I have to go back," the Marshal muttered, as if in a daze. "I must go back and get him. My nephew, the King, will have my head for this. I need a carriage and a fast ant.." "No, sir, please!" Lemmy protested. "This is madness! There's nothing you can do now!" "Don't go back there, Your Highness, I implore you," Brother Mathias implored. "I will forever have it on my conscience if you do." "SOMEBODY TELL ME WHAT HAPPENED!!" I yelled. "Winter came," Brother Mathias explained. "The Snow Elves, they were .. ruthless this year. There was no stopping them. Brother Matthew and the Crown Prince were in the midst of the Ritual of Purification. They tried to hurry through it as best they could; I urged haste, but these holy rites can only be expedited so much. We still thought we had time, but we hadn't figured on the audacity of .. HIM. He dared defile Fuma's holy house with his profane laughter. I could hear it booming even down in the Undercroft. Matthew and Prince Estmere were still in the pool. I begged them to cut the ritual short, but they just looked at me and said 'RUN.' I prayed to Fuma for courage, for fortitude, but instead she granted me alacrity. I fled through the tunnels and emerged outside the walls. There was no-one about. I found some ants stirring restlessly in a paddock ... Great Lady forgive me .. I stole one and rode it here, to my brother's house. I met no-one on the road, none of the usual Moving Day traffic, only your coach broken down a quarter mile back. I can only assume the gates were barred, and Winter took Albric Tor. HE took the city and everyone in it in a matter of hours. Those of us standing here may well be the only elves who escaped." "Who took Albric Tor?" I asked, obtusely. "The Kringle," Brother Mathias whispered fearfully. 3Image: 1213aghast I was thunderstruck. "The entire city?" I asked, disbelievingly. "Everyone in it? This .. this is completely unprecedented." "Which is why I need to go back!" the Marshal roared with a sudden lunge forward. "No! This is why it is pointless to go back!" Lemmy protested, grabbing the Marshal's arm. HOWEVER While everyone else was riveted by the monk's tale, Yolanda yawned and crept toward the kitchen. "SALV Cognomeeena!!" the ghost wailed as soon as she crossed the threshold. "Avennnge mmeeeeee!" "Whatever," Yolanda sniffed. "Who are you supposed to be, even?" 4Image: 1213icebox "Heeyyy, don't doooo thaaat," the ghost howled as Yolanda opened the ice-box and pulled out a plate of custard tarts. "Or what, you'll yell even louder?" she retorted. **************************************** Suddenly a full-scale scuffle broke out, as everyone tried to restrain the Marshal while he, in turn, tried to force his considerable bulk in the direction of the door. 1Image: 1213thehound He was beginning to accuse us all (in colorful Army language) of treachery, treason, and poor hygiene, when we heard an eerie howl drifting in through the cracks around the windows, and down the chimney. Everyone stopped, motionless, and listened as the sound reverberated and faded in the distance. "Tis the Hound!" Brother Mathias exclaimed, in a hushed voice. "The dread Hound which haunts these moors! I joined the priesthood to get away from it and its baleful baying. I fear for my idiot nephew, Gunther, and your coachman, both of whom have not yet returned to the inn!" "I suppose we will have to spend the night here, then," the Marshal decided, suddenly losing all trace of his desire to return to Albric Tor. "I am told I snore rather loudly, so I should have a room to myself." "I don't think any of us should be alone tonight, Your Highness," Lemmy said with a shiver. "Yeah, not only is there a Hound on the moor, but there's also a ghost in the kitchen," I added. 2Image: 1213yummy "If we're pairing up for the night, I want to sleep with Adler," Yolanda sang as she swayed in from the kitchen, licking her chops and carrying a plate of custard tarts. 3Image: 1214nopastry "Young lady, I commandeer those tarts in the name of the Crown," the Marshal said, authoritatively stepping forward. "Nuh-uh, Porky, you already had dessert," Yolanda explained haughtily. "PORKY??" the Marshal exclaimed, straightening his jacket with extreme umbrage. "I claim the right of Finders Keepers on these," Yolanda declared. "That's an Elf thing, right?" Everyone shrugged and murmured but nobody contradicted her. "One of these is for Adlie-poo," she said with a wink and a smile at me. "The other two I may distribute to whom I please, after the room assignments are done. Put me in with Adler and the rest of you can figure out your own arrangements." "Moost sartainly nowt!!" the innkeeper's wife yelled. "We roon a respectable 'oose, an' oil nowt 'ave no licentiousness oonder MOY roof, yoong missy!" "What she means to say," the innkeeper explained apologetically, "is that we'd prefer unmarried ladies and gents to room separately." "Very well," the Marshal agreed. "Agent O'Possum and Duke Adler together. The Vulpitanian secretary and the extremely impudent changeling together. As I mentioned, I am known to snore, plus I require a full-size bed all to myself, so I shall room alone." "I'll stay with you," Brother Mathias offered. "I doubt life in the cloister is much different from life in the barracks when it comes down to the basic things, Your Highness. Snoring won't bother me, and I know Morton has a trundle bed I can use." "No need to inconvenience yourself, good friar," the Marshal protested. "It's no trouble. And really, like the tall one said, none of us should be alone in the night." With that settled, Yolanda gave me a custard tart, and we all headed upstairs to our respective rooms. ************************************************* MEANWHILE, DOWNSTAIRS 1Image: 1214heeeyy "Heeeyy!!" the ghost wailed. "Sooomebodyyy? Aaaanybodyy! Avvvennnge mmmeeeee! Cooomme onnnn! I wass MMUURRRDERRRRED on my way hoooommme to Vvvulpitaaaaania! It's a MMMYSSSTERRRY!! Doesn't aaannnnyone caaaaare?" The kitchen door quietly opened. 2Image: 1214yoghost_zps6de34fce.gif "That is rather mysterious," the Master of Elfhame whispered. "Especially when one considers that Vulpitania lies in the opposite direction from Albric Tor - meaning that if you were killed on your way home, it wouldn't have been on this road." "I knoooww, rriiiiight?" the ghost moaned. "It's wweeeeirrd." *************************************************** I lay awake for a long time. I couldn't stop thinking about my half-brother trapped in the Cathedral with the Kringle. I imagined him throwing Snow Elves around in some sort of Royal Battle Fury, but I knew such hopes were but vain foolishness. No Elf could withstand the Kringle. But maybe, just maybe, with Utica's bow and my wily mushroom powers, I could infiltrate Albric Tor and affect a rescue! I might be foredoomed to failure, but I would never be able to respect myself if I didn't try. Plus, I was also worried about Horace. He still had not come to the inn. What if the Hound got him? After a while, I heard Lemmy snoring softly next to me, so I carefully eased out of bed and snuck into the hall. 1Image: 1214sneaky I crept past the Marshal's door, noting with admiration the thunderous snores emanating from within. Once I got outside, I looked around for the ant stables. Stealing was wrong; especially stealing ants! But then again, since I was heading out to rescue the Crown Prince, I supposed I would really be commandeering the ant for purposes of National Security. I snuck toward the stables, only to find them empty. I didn't know much about ants, and it was hard to tell in the dark, but it looked like only one stall saw regular use. That stall was currently unoccupied. You tiptoed back out into the inn yard, and saw Marshal Roland sneaking toward me. 2Image: 1214sneakymr "What in Fuma's name are you doing out here in the middle of the night?" he whispered at me. "What are you doing out here?" I parried. "I heard you snoring in your room not a minute ago." "It turns out that the good Brother Mathias is even more accomplished in that department than I," the Marshal grinned. "But you haven't answered my question." "I'm going to rescue Estmere," I whispered back. "Absolutely not!" the Marshal hissed. "It's far too dangerous! And besides, that's what I'm doing." "There are no ants in the stable," I informed him. "Blast," he muttered, stopping and looking around as if there might be an ant he hadn't noticed somewhere in the yard. "I was also worried about Horace and the innkeeper's son," I whispered. "They're still out there, with the Hound or whatever it is." Right on cue, a bloodcurdling howl echoed across the moor. "Egad, I didn't even think about them," the Marshal admitted, shamefacedly. "Perhaps the coach ants are still there, and if necessary ... hmm, do you know any offensive magick?" "You mean, like stink bombs and rude noises? I can do a few," I grinned with understated pride. "Not quite what I meant, but come on. I believe it's this way." He exited the gate and turned onto the road in the direction of the coach wreck. 3Image: 1214ourcoach "Is that our coach?" I asked, pointing to a bright object which came into view as we topped a small rise. "We shall need to use stealth as we approach," the Marshal whispered. "Early in my career I had Special Ops training. Keep some cover between yourself and your objective, make sure you have a clear avenue of escape behind you, and look carefully before you step. A cracking twig can betray your position to the enemy." "I have mushroom stealth," I whispered enigmatically. 4Image: 1216superteam I could barely contain my excitement at the thought of facing unknown perils with my great-uncle by my side. It was just like the exciting picture-scrolls I had read as a child! "Rollie's Rangers spring into action!" I whispered giddily. ******************************************** "Hang on, you've just reminded me of something," the Marshal muttered, with a mixture of relief and disappointment. He paused for a moment and I detected a faint fluttering with my Elfmind, but I could't make out the message. 1Image: 1216teashor A few seconds later, the Master of Elfhame emerged from the inn. When did he get here?? "I heard your summons, Gracious Lord," the Master of Elfhame whispered. "Thought you might be somewhere nearby, teashor." the Marshal replied. "Are there any others about?" "None that I am aware of." "Well, three is better than two," the Marshal stated. "Our objective is that light yonder. We need to reconnoiter and then deal with whatever we find. Secure the ants if possible. Can you provide cover?" "I'm on it," the Master of Elfhame declared. Then he dashed with surprising quickness into the shadows. The Marshal pointed, indicating for me to take the left flank. I glanced in that direction, then back to confirm the order - but the Marshal had already vanished. I had to admit, I was pretty impressed. I begin sneaking in a serpentine path, meandering gradually closer to the illuminated object on the horizon. After twenty minutes of some of the best sneaking I had ever done, I finally approached near enough to see Horace sitting with his back against the coach. He seemed comfortable and content, roasting marshmallows over a fire. Also seated around the fire were a loutish looking goat-elf, a dog-elf with a troubled expression, and - with his back to you - what appeared to be a Snow Elf dressed in full Santaic regalia! What was he doing here? In my sudden outrage at the appearance of this obvious Santaist, my concentration lapsed. I stopped thinking of mushrooms, and I stepped on a twig. The dog-elf howled a miserabe, blood-curdling howl, and the Snow-Elf turned to look at you. 2Image: 1216campfire "Fuma's Tail!" I exclaimed. "ESTMERE???" "Hey bro," Estmere answered wearily. "I sure am glad to see you." A few seconds later, Marshal Roland and the Master of Elfhame emerged from the shadows. The dog-elf howled again, making all my fur stand on end. "Why does he keep doing that?" I asked of nobody in particular. "Gomer be accursed," the goat said with a grin. "Every night of the one-quarter waxing moon, he become a were-hound. He can do nought but howl his misery across the moor." "What is he the rest of the time?" I asked, looking quizzically at Gomer. "A hound," the goat grinned. "Don't try to figure it out, Your Grace," Horace chuckled. "Gunther is the innkeeper's son, and Gomer is the wheelwright. They arrived here just before sundown, after which Gomer became useless. I thought it best to stay with the coach, so we made camp here - and as luck would have it, His Highness was led here by the light of our fire." "What happened? How did you get away? What's with the clothes?" the Marshal and I asked Estmere in chorus. 3Image: 1216xmasestmere "I had just finished the Ritual of Purification," Estmere narrated. "When the Snow Elves came bursting into the Undercroft. I managed to knock out three or four of them, but there were too many. I was soaking wet, and had nothing on except my ceremonial robe. They overpowered me and the next thing I knew I was being savagely rubbed with towels. When I was dry, they gave me this humiliating costume and told me to put it on. What could I do? I was naked! All the monks were dressed similarly, and they lined us up. The Cathedral sanctuary had been transformed into a workshop, with benches and tools, looms and sewing frames. The Kringle was there, laughing like a maniac in the sacristy. The line of elves had to approach him, and he would pronounce each one's doom, condemning them to some kind of menial work. When it was my turn, the Kringle looked at me and said 'Sorry, Your Highness, but I only want Elves here.' Then he laughed even harder! I was enraged at the insult, but a horde of Snow Elves grappled me out of the Cathedral. They tossed me out of the city and shut the gate behind me. The whole countryside was empty; I cut overland in the direction of Persoc Tor, and spotted this campfire not long after sunset. Why did the Kringle let me go? What did he mean when he said he only wanted Elves?" 4Image: 1217dontblab I was mortified. How could I answer my half-brother's question? Obviously the Kringle had some uncanny way of knowing that Estmere was only part Elf, due to his mother being an elf-lowfolk Crossling hybrid ... but I couldn't tell him that, not after his ordeal. Maybe not ever. The shock could be too much for him to bear. ****************************************** MEANWHILE, IN THE INN 1Image: 1216notowear "Will you quit pacing and just get in bed?" Miss Chetsweeks said impatiently. "Some of us actually do want to get a good night's rest." "I thought elves didn't need to sleep," Yolanda whined. "We can live without it, but who would want to? Anyway, you slept every night, didn't you, before you knew you were an elf." "I don't feel sleepy. And besides, I can't get in bed wearing my day clothes!" "So take them off and sleep in your underthings." "NO!!" Yolanda shrieked. "I need my nightgown! Plus, what am I going to wear tomorrow? I can't put this same dress back on! What will Adler think?" "Most elves have just one outfit which they wear all the time," Miss Chetsweeks explained. "GROSS!" "Look, if you're not going to sleep, can you please just leave the room so I can?" "Fine. I'm still hungry anyway," Yolanda pouted. "If anybody needs me, I'll be in the kitchen." "I doubt anyone will need you," Miss Chetsweeks quipped as she lay down and pulled the covers up to her chin. "SALV Cognooommeeeeenna," the ghost moaned as soon as Yolanda entered the kitchen. "Are you still here?" she asked. "What is your deal, anyway?" "Dooo yoooou waant to seee a deeeeeaaaad bodyyyy?" "Sure," Yolanda answered, with a glint of morbid curiosity. The specter pointed grimly at a large metal bin in the corner. Yolanda crept carefully over and opened the door. 2Image: 1216itsaham "Behooolld my mooorrrtaaalll remaaaaains," the ghost solemnly intoned. "That's a ham," Yolanda sneered. "And you're an idiot." The ghost paused, blinked sepulchrally at the ham, then said, "Wellll, in thaaaat case, I dooonnn't knoooowww where my booooody iiissss." "Hey, earlier you called me 'SALV' Cognomena," Yolanda said as she carved off a slice of ham. "What does that mean? Is it like, a salve, like a soothing balm because I'm such a sight for sore eyes?" "Thooose are Vulpitaaaaanian letterrrs of raaaaannnk," the ghost howled. "Foorrr exaaaammmple, I am Speeectraalll Apparriiiitionn Laaaate Vviiiillain Sssir Eeeeevan Kliiiive." "S.A.L.V. I get it. So what do my letters stand for?" "Sssexxually Attraaaaaactivvve Lllluuuscious Vvviiiiiixen." 3Image: 1216durntootn "Darn right," Yolanda smirked with evident satisfaction, then took another bite of ham sandwich. ************ After debating with myself for a few moments, I shrugged and said: "Who knows, with the Kringle? Maybe he was just being a jerk." I heard a double sigh of relief behind me, then the Marshal said: "You've got to get out of that horrible costume immediately." 1Image: 1217comfortable "Oh, I don't know, Uncle," Estmere said, looking himself over. "It's unsightly, sure, but it's actually kinda comfortable." "Don't say such things!" the Marshal snapped. "Remember you are the Crown Prince of Faerie! The living symbol of our Empire and its ideals! You have a duty to maintain a certain level of dignity." "You can borrow my pants if you want," I blurted in a spasm of unthinking patriotism. "I don't think your tiny little britches would fit me, bro," Estmere chuckled. "Quite right," the Marshal observed. "But our luggage is strapped to the back of the coach, and I'm sure you will fit into one of my spare uniforms." 2Image: 1217baggy "Thanks, Uncle," Estmere said after he had changed clothes. "It's very roomy - but I already feel more regal, clad once again in royal silk. So, what do we do now?" "We can take our time deciding that," the Marshal explained. "But first, pass me a toasting stick and some marshmallows. It's never wise to deliberate on an empty stomach." 3Image: 1219billowy "Whoah," Estmere said, as the wind picked up and the Marshal's uniform billowed majestically around him. A moment later, the uniform magically shrunk to fit. I wasn't sure if it was the Marshal or the Master of Elfhame who worked the Gramerye for that; I just knew it wasn't me. "AW!" Estmere complained. "I was kinda digging the baggy look. It felt very loose and comfortable, sort of liberating, in a way." "Royal Dignity," the Marshal muttered, with a Significant Look at the Prince. Turning to me, he said, "Your Grace, please burn those hideous Santaist garments." "Wait, Uncle! It might be wise to keep the shoes," Etmere argued. "Just in case I have to step on, um ... never mind." Marshal Roland gave my brother a stern look and gestured for me to dump the clothes in the fire. The garments gave off an evil odor of pine needles and cinnamon as they burned. After the fumes cleared, we all held out our marshmallows over the flames. 4Image: 1219marshmallow "Mmmf, thmese are exqumisimte," the Marshal murmured as he nibbled warm, melty marshmallows off the end of his stick. "Remimbs me of my chilmdhood." I cautiously tried mine, but was repulsed by its gooey, sticky texture and odd smoky-sweet-charred flavor. "I mwas comsmidering the possimbilimty of going to Permsoc and mustmering troomps for a strike agaimst the Krimgle," the Marshal mused, "but now that Primce Emstmere is returmed to us, there smeems little poimt." "The combined might of the Empire has never been able to defeat the Kringle," the Master of Elfhame whispered, knowledgeably. "Plus, this coach isn't going anywhere until the wheel is fixed," Horace pointed out. "And that'll ne'er happen ere sunrise, afore Gomer change back to normal," Gunther added with a cheerful grin. Gomer replied with a bloodcurdling howl. "Smo, what was the Krimgle like?" the Marshal inquired as he stuffed another marshmallow into his mouth. "Oh, just like in the stories," Estmere answered with a shudder. "He's a giant, huge as well as fat, dressed in the flayed red-and-white fur of his victims. He doesn't look like an elf. He has a big fluffy white beard but his face is bald, like an ape, or one of those lowfolk creatures they call Yew-Men. He's diabolically jolly, laughing all the time, and from what I could see, he was forcing all the elves to work making toys and child-size garments." My half-brother's description of the Kringle was filling me with unspeakable terror. I wanted to change the subject, but I was morbidly fascinated at the same time. I managed to croak out: "Why does he so cruelly exploit us?" "One of the Mephitist monks shrieked that very question, as the Snow Elves were dragging him away to his workbench. The Kringle said 'It's not going to kill you Elves to do something nice for somebody once in a while,' and then burst out laughing even louder than before." "What have those lowfolk brats done to deserve gifts from us?" I yelled, with a mixture of fear and indignation. "If the Kringle wants to provide charity, why not do it himself? He has no right to force elves into this outrageous scheme of his!" "He's jmust evil, thmat's all there is tmo it," the Marshal explained, as he bit the gooey remains of the last marshmallow off of his stick. Gomer emitted a harrowing howl. *************************************** MEANWHILE, BACK AT THE INN 1Image: 1217awkwardyvc With her belly pleasantly full of ham and bread, Yolanda was feeling a bit drowsy ... but she couldn't get over her apprehension at the thought of taking off her clothes and getting in bed with another vixen. If it was a cute boy Elf (like Adler, for instance) that would be a different story, but Yolanda Vanessa Cognomena does not swing that way! Yolanda returned quietly to the room. Maybe SALV Chetsweeks had slept enough, and would be willing to get up so Yolanda could take a turn? The receptionist was slumbering peacefully. As Yolanda pondered what would be the best way to wake her, she turned over, pulling the covers with her. Another good reason not to share the bed with her! Yolanda reached to shake Miss Chetsweeks' shoulder ... ... looked down .. ... and noticed ... 2Image: 1217taileyes GREAT AUK!!! What is THAT?? Yolanda stared at the tail. The tail stared at Yolanda. Was it some sort of parasite, feeding off Miss Chetsweeks? Or was it some sort of hideous growth, a congenital deformity? Whatever it was, it was far more horrible and disgusting than Yolanda's Bad Eye, and she was not getting any closer to it. 3Image: 1219tailattack "Gibble gibble gibble!" the Tail said as it started wagging and waving energetically. Yolanda tried to scream, but all she could manage was a sort of terrified, breathless squeak. 4Image: 1219darksecret Miss Chetweeks awakened and propped herself on one elbow while discreetly covering her tail with the sheets. "So, you've discovered my terrible Dark Secret," she said glumly. "What IS that thing?" Yolanda quavered, pointing with horror at the Tail. "That thing is SALV Alice Chetsweeks," Miss Chetsweeks answered. "I was born as nothing but a tail, with eyes and a mouth and two stubby little arms. My vixen body is an elaborate prosthetic device, the culmination of years of research, the pinnacle of Vulpitanian know-how and Elfhamian craftsmanship." ************************************************** "Well, now," the Marshal said, getting up and dusting off his jacket. "I propose that you lads, Horace, Gunther, and Gomer, remain here with the coach til dawn and get it fixed as soon as possible. The rest of us shall return to the inn and await you there." 1Image: 1219yvcaghast I arrived to find Yolanda standing in the downstairs parlor, with a haggard expression on her face. "What's up?" I asked. "Why aren't you in bed? You look like you've seen a ghost." "Ghost?" she replied. "Why yes, actually, I have. The ghost of Sir Evan Klive told me to tell you that he was assassinated on his way to Vulpitania after leaving the embassy." "Assassinated?" I exclaimed. "By whom??" "Assassins," Yolanda answered. "The ghost wasn't too clear on how it happened, but they used magic. They also made him think that a ham in the wagon was his corpse, causing his ghost to show up here when the ham was delivered just before lunchtime." "A haunted ham?" I asked, dumbfounded. "Yeah, who'da thought? But anyway, he also wanted me to tell you something else, and if I don't he will come back and haunt me, which will totally cramp my style, so here it is: He's sorry he pulled a knife on you, and he was kinda hoping for more than just a captor/hostage relationship. He wanted you to know that your official dossier description as 'pesky but cute' came from his report to the Embassy's Covert Intelligence office." 2Image: 1219ayaghast "Oh ... kaaayyy ..." I muttered slowly. "Hold on," Yolanda said suddenly, looking over my shoulder. "Who's the hunk?" I turned around and saw my brother standing there, so I introduced him. "This is my half-brother, His Highness Crown Prince Estmere. He just escaped from the Kri-" 3Image: 1219myprince "MY PRINCE!!!" Yolanda squealed as she dashed past me, latched onto Estmere, and began ferociously cuddling him. I suddenly felt very tired. It seemed like a long time since I'd had a chance to relax. A nice hot bath and fur-brushing would be really great right about now, and maybe with Yolanda distracted I could slip away. It was a little upsetting to see how quickly she discarded me when higher-ranking Nobility showed up, but then again - whatever. Let Estmere deal with her. "Please, miss," Estmere protested gently, prying the amorous vixen off of him. "This is not the proper way to greet someone of my rank. You must curtsey and say 'Good morning, Your Highness.'" 4Image: 1220curtsey Yolanda curtseyed and giggled coquettishly. "LANDLORD!" the Marshal bellowed, rapping loudly on the counter with an empty tankard. The innkeeper emerged from a back room, rubbing sleep from his eyes. "The kitchen is no longer haunted," the Marshal explained. "We require breakfast. A proper one!" "I'm sorry, Your Highness, but as I said last night, the kitchen staff have all fled. Getting together a hot breakfast for your entire party will be a long and difficult undertaking, if it's even possible at all." "If you don't mind having soup, I can make breakfast," I offered. "Can you do flapjacks and bacon and eggs?" the Marshal asked. "Liquids are my area of expertise," I explained. "I could do porridge, I suppose." The Marshal looked a bit skeptical at that, so I leaned in and whispered "it will also be a good chance to investigate Sir Evan Klive's murder, since the assassins bound his spirit to a ham which was delivered here yesterday morning before we arrived." He nodded at me and asked the innkeeper: "Who brought that ham yesterday?" "It was part of our regular delivery from the Faerie-Wide Grocers Network," the innkeeper answered. "And the haunting began immediately afterward?" "Blimey! I never thought about it, but you're right, Sir! The specter appeared right after the groceries were delivered!" "And were there any new or suspicious people on the wagon or with the delivery crew?" "None that I noticed." 5Image: 1220wingman While I was working on a hearty Breakfast Stew, Estmere crept into the kitchen. "Hey bro, can you do me a solid?" he asked. "What do you need?" I asked, cautiously. "I am totally not ready to get romantically entangled again. It's way to soon after ... well, you know," he shuddered, "HER." "Pardon my impertinence, but what has that got to do with me?" I asked impertinently as I stirred my stew. "Well, I guess I'm asking you to be my wingman and get this clingy Vulpitanian chick off my back," Estmere shrugged. "I know you're going steady with Dame Chitterleigh, but c'mon dude. She's not here, and if she finds out you can always say the Crown Prince made you do it. Take one for the good of the Empire ... please?" "I'll see what I can do," I sighed. "Tell everybody that the stew is almost ready." "Thanks bro, you're the best." Estmere returned to the dining room and announced that breakfast was almost ready. I could hear Yolanda curtseying and giggling, then the Marshal asking her to go upstairs and rouse Lemmy & Miss Chetsweeks. ************************************************* UPSTAIRS 1Image: 1220oilelbow Yolanda returned to the room to find SALV Chetsweeks sitting on the bed, squirting oil into a small hatch near her elbow. "Does that hurt?" she asked. "Not at all," Miss Chetsweeks replied. "Your prosthetic body is amazingly lifelike," Yolanda observed, "and if I may say so, quite pretty as well." "Thank you. Considering how much it cost, there's no reason for it to be anything less than ideal." "Oh, um, I came up here to tell you that breakfast is almost ready. You do eat food, don't you?" "Of course I do," Miss Chetsweeks chuckled. "I will be down in a few minutes, after I've completed my toilette and gotten dressed." Yolanda eased back out of the room, and met Lemmy as he emerged from his room. "Breakfast is almost ready," she said. 3Image: 1220askavixen "Say .. you're a vixen," Lemmy observed with unerring accuracy. He leaned closer to whisper in Yolanda's ear. "Tell me something. What sort of present could I give Miss Chetsweeks in order to make a good impression on her? What kind of thing would she like?" "It's hard to say for sure," Yolanda shrugged. "She's not like anyone I've ever met before." "Yeah, that's what I find so fascinating about her," Lemmy said dreamily. "I'd suggest going with the standard stuff," Yolanda advised the love-struck possum. "Hair care products, you know .. shampoo, conditioner, styling gel. Maybe a tail brush; any vixen would appreciate that. Or some oil - uh, scented oils I mean." 4Image: 1223undies Before Yolanda reached the stairs, Brother Mathias emerged from his room and confronted her. "SALV Cognomena," he bleated, addressing her in the formal manner he learned during his service in Vulpitania. "I sense that there is a vital component missing from your ensemble. As a Mephitist monk, I am trained to be inappropriately solicitous toward young ladies such as yourself - and so, in order to spare you greater embarrassment later by slightly embarrassing you now, permit me to offer you my own underpants as a temporary substitute until you can find some of your own." "Ew," Yolanda responded, wrinkling her nose. She turned away from the monk and paused suddenly at the top of the stairs. 5Image: 1223whatsthat "What was that?" she blurted in alarm. "Did you see that?" "All I saw was you standing there," the monk replied. ****************************************** While the stew simmered, I inspected the ham. It looked perfectly ordinary; no distinguishing marks except for a generous slice carved out of it. I wondered when that had happened - presumably sometime after Yolanda dispelled the ghost. I could scarcely imagine anyone being foolhardy enough to eat a haunted ham. Such an act seemed faintly redolent of cannibalism, and would certainly bring Fuma's curse upon the perpetrator. A few moments later, the rest of the group came downstairs to take their seats as I staggered in with a heavy pot of stew and set it in the middle of the table. The innkeeper distributed bowls and spoons, and Marshal Roland started the proceedings by ladling out a hearty helping for himself. "Mmm, excellent stew, Your Grace," he murmured after his first spoonful. The others began taking turns across the table to fill their bowls. 1Image: 1223iteats Yolanda watched with mixed disgust and fascination as Miss Chetsweeks carefully & deliberately ingested stew, one dainty spoonful at a time. "So, how exactly does that work?" she whispered. "My body processes and filters food so it reaches me as an optimally nutritious mush," Miss Chetsweeks answered. "What, um, other functions does it do for you?" "Anything that's normally done in private, I can take care of on my own," the Secretary whispered with a scowl. "Can we not discuss this at the table, please?" Finally it was Yolanda's turn with the ladle, and she filled her bowl. 2Image: 1223goodstew As soon as she put the spoon in her mouth, Yolanda's shoulders dropped, her head tilted back, and she closed her eyes in a rapture of total Flavor Bliss. "Do you like it?" I asked suavely, leaning close to her. "Mmh mmy GMMMD!!" Yolanda sighed, ecstatic. I hadn't had much time to tune the flavor to appeal to her, but it looked like my efforts were effective nevertheless. "I have recipes even better than this one," I insinuated. "Marry me," Yolanda panted with a tear in her eye, as she hunched over her bowl. "Let's run away together ... just as soon as I finish this." She put another spoonful of stew in her mouth and leaned back in her chair, moaning with pleasure. "It certainly is good stew," the Marshal concurred, reaching out for a second helping. "Uncle, I've been thinking," Estmere said suddenly. "Is it better, as a scion of the Royal House, for me to be at the forefront of daring action, inspiring the people with acts of heroism, or prudently ensconced at the Capital, tending to all the bureaucratic intricacies of ruling the Empire?" "It is tempting," the Marshal stated, "especially for an Elf of your age, to idealize the bold founder of our line and seek to emulate his deeds. But this is not Irenaeus's world. Empires are no longer built on the strength of the King's arm, and it takes more than swords and bows to maintain them. At the same time, it is necessary to be an inspiration to your people. I was pondering this very question earlier, whether it would be better to hurry you on to the safety of Persoc Tor, or loiter here a while longer, now that your mettle has been somewhat tested by your encounter with the Kringle." "What could be gained by staying here?" Estmere asked. "Well, to be honest, I was rather thinking about going fishing," the Marshal confessed as he ladled more stew into his bowl. "There's an excellent pond near here, and don't we all deserve a day off? No elf should have to carry the weight of Faerie on his shoulders without a break." My brother glanced at me quizzically, as if somehow worried by our great-uncle's strangely casual mood. I shrugged back at him. I actually didn't know the Marshal very well. Maybe he always got whimsical at dawn on the first full day of Winter. 3Image: 1223handstouch Lemmy and Miss Chetsweeks both reached for the stew cauldron at the same time. 4Image: 1226bashful Lemmy hastily jerked his hand back, and Miss Chetsweeks slowly withdrew her hand as well. "Well, I need to go upstairs and write up my report on our investigation so far," Lemmy announced nervously, "so I guess I'll go ahead and go do that." "If you need any Secretarial or Administrative help, I'm excellent at filing and taking dictation," Miss Chetsweeks offered. "Sure, sounds great," Lemmy squeaked. The two of them headed upstairs as the rest of our group excused themselves from the table and wandered off in different directions. ***************************************************** TITLE: After breakfast in various places 1Image: 1226visions "There are three of them," Yolanda muttered darkly. "The robed one, his eyebrows never stop moving." "Are you all right, Yolanda?" I asked. "They killed me," she whispered through gritted teeth. "Ham, all is ham." "How can I help you?" I asked, amping up my Wiles. "I know Faerie is strange, perhaps frightening to you. Let me comfort you, my dear girl." She turned to look at me with a strange hungry expression, and I felt a metaphorical flame of desire begin to kindle within me. This task may not be bad after all! (line) After grabbing a fishing spear and a hat from the inn, Marshal Roland waddled out to the fishing pond with the Master of Elfhame in tow. "What are you doing?" the Marshal demanded when he saw Brother Mathias kneeling by the edge of the pond with some wadded-up linen in his hand. "I'm just going to rinse out a few things," the monk bleated. "Absolutely not! You'll scare away the fish!" 2Image: 1226fishing Once the monk was safely shooed away, Marshal Roland rolled up his trouser legs and waded into the pond, his spear arm poised to strike. The Master of Elfhame produced a gazing ball from within his robes, and after peering into it for a few seconds, he pointed to a spot in the water. The Marshal nodded and eased himself closer to the place indicated. (line) 3Image: 1226ascroll Estmere ambled into the common room and pulled a scroll at random from a basket in the corner. He settled comfortably into a chair and began to read. (line) 4Image: 1226ixyawn The mysterious insectoid creature yawned with boredom from its perch in the rafters. ************************************************** 1Image: 1226ahoy The front door of the inn opened, letting in streams of bright morning sunlight, cold morning air, the cheerful GRONNKing of the coach ants, and Horace, who called out: "Ahoy, all! The coach is repaired! Where is everybody? Something smells good! Have you had breakfast already? Anyone? Hello?" He found the kettle full of lukewarm stew and ladled out a bowlfull for himself. 2Image: 1228wheretheyat "Where the heck is everybody?" Horace asked as he finished his bowl of stew. "I thought the Marshal was in a hurry to get to Persoc Tor." "Apparently not," the innkeeper answered. "He's out at the pond, having a spot of fishing. The others have wandered off here and there to while away the afternoon. You don't mind if I fumigate, do you? It's just I've got to keep the blasted insects under control, on top of everything else that's been happening around here." "Go right ahead," Horace allowed with a casual wave of his hoof. "I love the smell of citronella. What else has been happening around here, if I might ask?" "Ghost. Chased away all the guests and the kitchen staff before your lot arrived. And then there's winter all of a sudden. Not to mention the hound baying on the moor. And that," the innkeeper added, tilting his head in the approximate direction from which emanated a loud, warbling and chilling cry, followed by babbling. The coach ants GRONNKed in alarm outside. "What was that?" Horace asked, aghast. "No idea. But it's been happening periodically for weeks." 3Image: 1228fisherman "I say! Did anybody hear a loud, warbling and chilling cry, followed by babbling just now?" the Marshal asked from the doorway, where he stood proudly holding a spear laden with fish. "No matter. LANDLORD! I want these beauties filleted and braised with butter, garlic, and mushrooms, posthaste!" The innkeeper carefully set down his fumigator and took the spearload of fish back to the kitchen. 4Image: 1228pensive Horace nimbly dodged as Estmere drifted absentmindedly in from the front hall. "That loud, warbling and chilling cry, followed by babbling makes me wonder," the Prince mused. "Hmmm ... do you smell fish?" ************************************************ 1Image: 1228mellowalice Miss Chetsweeks descended the staircase, with a calmly serene look on her face. "I want you to know that I had nothing to do with that loud, warbling and chilling cry, followed by babbling which you all heard just now," she announced. "Are we having fish for lunch?" "I am," the Marshal declared. "But I doubt my catch was abundant enough to feed you all. How's Agent O'Possum's report coming along?" "He's still working on it," Miss Chetsweeks explained. 2Image: 1228allisham Yolanda and I were making out in a quiet corner of the back parlor, when I heard a loud, warbling and chilling cry, followed by babbling somewhere in a distant part of the building. "ALL IS HAM," Yolanda screeched. "What?" I asked. "It pinched. The robed one imprisoned me in salty pork while the other - it fatally pinched, and it went beep and boop," the vixen prophesied. "Seek the one that boops!" "What are you talking about?" I asked. "DOOOOOM," Yolanda proclaimed. "Hey, do you smell fish?" I brilliantly rejoindered. "Oh Adler, take me to your Palace of Pleasure," Yolanda sighed suddenly as she leaned in for another kiss. HEADLINE: How about we skip ahead a bit? Nothing of much importance happened during the rest of our brief stay at the inn. Marshal Roland nearly choked on a fish bone, after which he sternly lectured the innkeeper on proper filleting techniques. Miss Chetsweeks rather daintily passed some gas at the table. Big deal. All we found when we looked for the loud, warbling and chilling cry, followed by babbling was a bunch of empty rooms and some rumpled linen. (line) 3Image: 1231poolside A week or so later, I was relaxing poolside at the Royal Spa in Persoc Tor, sipping a peach colada and ruminating on all my recent adventures. The peace was interrupted when a page approached with dire news... 4Image: 0104bills "A number of bills in your name have been accumulating at the front desk, Your Grace, and management is becoming rather anxious that at least some of them be paid soon," the page explained obsequiously. "Isn't the Royal House covering them?" I asked, with a creeping sense of doom. "Not at present, Your Grace," the page simpered. "But a message did arrive just now from His Majesty King Gawain, summoning you to his presence as soon as possible." Hmm. That probably wasn't good either. (line) Note: This post contains the last of the 2013 images. 2014 begins! Just two years and three months more material to get us all caught up! At the present rate we should be there sometime this fall. ******************************************************* 1Image: 0104cannonball "METEORITE!!!" the Marshal yelled as he leaped off the diving board. 2Image: 0107splash The hotel page nimbly dodged the brunt of the incoming tsunami with a deft flutter of his wings. I, on the other hand, was completely drenched. After the flood subsided, I momentarily considered asking my great-uncle about the billing situation ... but I hated to interrupt him in his frolics, especially after I noticed a pair of extremely large white trunks floating - unoccupied - in the pool. My drink had been ruined by a deluge of pool water, and I decided it would be best to beat a hasty retreat from the pool deck before I saw something I would regret for the rest of my days .. so I headed up to my room to dry off and get ready to find out what my father the King wanted. 3Image: 0107snappy I put on my very best green satin Dork Suit. It was traditional, conservative, perhaps a bit predictable, but I had to admit, this was an extremely good look for me. I briefly considered going to gather my chums, but decided against it for several reasons. Lemmy was too involved in his pursuit of Miss Chetsweeks, and Yolanda .. well .. I was already getting tired of Yolanda. Plus, it would take some time to round up my posse, and one does not keep the High King of Faerie waiting. Additionally, it was I who was summoned by the King, not them. I walked hurriedly across the plaza to the Winter Palace. I seemed to be expected; the guards waved me through the gate unchallenged. Some Court official conducted me to a side conference room, and shut the door behind me as I entered. The King was sitting on a throne at the end of a table. He looked bored, or perhaps weary. 4Image: 0107kinggawain "Sire," I said with a bow. "Have a seat, Adler," he commanded. "I realize that my people need some R&R after our ordeal with the Kringle and our narrow escape which would never have been possible had the lowfolk Christmas not come when it did," the King explained, "but even so, I've noticed something which causes me some concern." "What is that, Sire?" "Two things, actually. First I would like to know why you are consorting with Vulpitanian spies. Secondly, I would like to know why Marshal Roland has lately become so silly and irresponsible." ************************************************* 1Image: 0109giduno "I don't know Marshal Roland very well, Sire," I explained. "I was not aware that his behavior was unusual. He seemed to be sorely vexed at the release of Sir Evan Klive. When Winter came, he seemed excited to reminisce about his childhood. Perhaps the stress of his duties is taking its toll. He could be under a spell, maybe. Or maybe he's turned to drink. Is the Marshal a heavy drinker?" "It is well known that his appetite is far from moderate," the King replied. "But it has never affected his work. The change in his behavior seems to coincide with his initiating contact with you. Yet you have no idea what could have caused it?" "None, Sire." "Well, the Marshal is getting old. If he is entering his dotage then it may be time to relieve him of his duties." 2Image: 0109stern "What of the Vulpitanians?" the King asked. "After he tried to abduct me, I admit, I was curious about Sir Evan Klive's dastardly schemes, so I tried to infiltrate the Vulpitanian Embassy," I explained. "While I was there, I got the impression that Miss Chetsweeks, the receptionist, may know more than she lets on. Yolanda, on the other hand, is a newly-arrived changeling. I don't see how she could be any danger." "Every fox is a potential spy," the King muttered darkly. "Well, if I keep them close to me then I can keep an eye on them," I retorted immoderately. "If you are so keen to keep them close to you, why are they not with you presently? Have you not noticed that both of them radiate strong magickal auras? Are you not aware, Adler, of the rumors that have begun to circulate among the court?" "What rumors are those, Sire?" I asked, completely surprised by this turn in the conversation. "All kinds of ridiculous theories are being bandied about," the King informed me. "Some speculate that the Marshal has succumbed to Pan Syndrome - which is a completely fake affliction, in any case. It is whispered that perhaps you and Estmere are not my true sons, which is absurd. I know for certain that you are the issue of my loins. I also know that my subjects do not trust Vulpitanians even in the best of circumstances. What disturbs me most of all this talk, is the far more credible theory that your cadre of magickal agents have fuddled the Marshal and seduced the Crown Prince as part of a plot to subvert the normal order of succession and place yourself on the Throne. Tell me: What was your reason for getting my legitimate son mixed up with Utica the Huntress? And why did you suddenly strike up a friendship with your great-uncle around the same time?" "Estmere was admiring Utica from afar, and when I mentioned that I knew her, he beseeched me to introduce him," I explained. "Who am I to refuse the blandishments of the Crown Prince? And the Marshal summoned me to his office for questioning after the explosion at the Ferifax Festival grounds." "Which you had nothing to do with, of course," His Majesty sneered, "despite having conveniently infiltrated the kitchen staff the day before." "I had nothing to do with the sabotage, Sire. It was the F.E.L.F." "Which you know, how?" "My mother told me, in a message she left just before fleeing Albric Tor." "Ah yes, of course," the King sighed. "Mavis's deviousness was one of the things I admired most about her ... but, as you were saying: It's complete coincidence then, that the two elves ahead of you in line of succession happen to come under your influence at practically the same time?" "I had not thought of it in those terms, Sire, but that certainly does sum it up," I acknowledged nervously. "And what about these two Vulpitanians?" the King demanded. "What, as you young people say, is their deal?" "Yolanda has a Cursed Eye, you know, like Balor except hers actually does stuff. She can't control it though, because she's been raised as lowfolk and she doesn't know anything. When we met, she actually thought she could enslave me by guessing my name, can you believe that?" I chuckled. "For a while she was having visions, but that seems to have stopped. I don't know much about Miss Chetsweeks. I've never seen her do anything magickal, but maybe Lemmy - er, Agent O'Possum - has." "Hmmm," the King murmured thoughtfully. "Before I dismiss you, is there anything you wish to say to me? Have you any questions for your King?" "Is that crown heavy?" I blurted foolishly. "Heavier than it looks," the King frowned. "Anything else?" "What's the changeling situation?" I inquired. "Were there really only six of them this time?" "Yes, and with the Ferifax arch destroyed it looks like we've got to start over from scratch. Next question." "Did you hear about the ghost at the inn?" I asked. "I've no time to listen to jokes, youngster." "No, seriously, the ghost of Sir Evan Klive appeared at the inn where we stopped on our flight from Albric Tor. He asked me to avenge him. Yolanda spoke with him at length and learned that he had been assassinated on his way back to Vulpitania. After that, she had frightening visions for a day or two, and then it went away." "Vulpitanians handle their diplomatic problems in their own efficiently ruthless way," the King shrugged. "Next question." "Could you give me your perspective on the Empire's relationship with Vulpitania, the dynamic between Albric Tor and Persoc Tor, all within an overall framework of Imperial history?" I asked, hopefully. "What do I look like, a schoolmaster?" the King retorted. "Go to the library and read if you want to know all of that. Are you done wasting my time yet?" "One more, Sire," I pressed. "How did you feel about my mother?" "I was passionately attracted to Mavis. Perhaps I loved her, but so soon in the wake of Persephone's disappearance, I could not trust my own heart," the King explained. "Anyway, your mother was - is - a commoner, so I could never have married her. No possibility for you to be a legitimate son, I'm afraid." "And now, if you're quite finished, I am issuing you a Royal Command," the King stated sternly. "You are to assist your great-uncle Marshal Roland in every way possible. Find out what is wrong with him, and determine if he is fit to carry out his duties. Meanwhile keep yourself and your friends well away from the Crown Prince. You will be watched closely. Now go." "Sire, please reconsider the Lowfolk Breeding Initiative," I beseeched, rising from my chair. "It has brought shame upon us all, and additionally, Sir Evan intimated to me before he died that the arch does not do what it is expected to do. It may all be a Vulpitanian plot!" "I believe I already dismissed you," the King said with a scowl, "which makes me wonder why you are still here, and talking." "I hear and obey, Sire," I said with a formal bow as I backed toward the door of the chamber. "Oh wait!" I blurted suddenly. "My bills at the hotel are not being covered, and Yolanda is running up a market tab under my name." "A silver groat saved is a silver groat earned, Your Grace," the King muttered gnomically. "Now shoo." He waved his non-scepter-holding hand dismissively toward me. As I left the Palace, I reflected upon this interview. I would not have been able to say, if asked, that this encounter with my father had gone particularly well. He seemed to be in a Bad Mood. Undoubtedly he had a lot on his mind, and was depressed (as we all were) about the future prospects of Elfkind. Assuming that he had placed genuine hope in the sinister magicks of the Ferifax Arch, its destruction was a crippling blow to his Royal optimism - not to mention an insult to his security forces and a smear on the Empire's reputation. His administration must have lost a lot of prestige when those lowfolk spirits escaped. And only six changelings! Our rate of reproduction was even lower than I thought. ******************************************** 1Image: 0114heybro While I was walking through the palace, lost in thought, I almost ran into my half-brother. "Hey bro, what's up?" he greeted me fraternally. "Has that crazy vixen driven you crazy yet?" "Uh ..." I stammered. "I don't know how else to explain this: Our father, the King, has ordered me to stay away from you." "What?? Seriously?" Estmere asked, taken aback. "Dude, that BLOWS!" "You'll have to ask him about it," I shrugged. "Until I hear otherwise, I've got a Royal Command to obey. Sorry." Estmere stalked off, presumably in search of His Majesty, and I made my way back to the hotel. 2Image: 0114goclubbin My great-uncle greeted me jovially on the veranda. He was dressed in mufti and carrying a heavy oaken cudgel over his shoulder. "I say, what jolly good timing!" he beamed. "I've been asked to avoid the pool from now on, so I've resolved to go out to the orchards and do a bit of clubbing! Work out the kinks, let off some steam, and do a bit of community service as well, eh? Go change into some scruffy clothes, fetch a sack and a stick, and you can be my batman! Bring your charming companions as well; we shall make a proper outing of it!" "All right ..." I agreed hesitantly. "Oh, while I've got your attention, the hotel management tells me my bills are not being paid." "Tsk, tsk," the Marshal clucked. "I shall see to that while you get ready. Meet me at the front desk in, shall we say, fifteen minutes?" On my way across the lobby, I met Yolanda. "ADLIE-POO!" she squealed when she spotted me. "Those pesky merchants stopped selling things to me!" "Fuma does answer prayer," I sighed gratefully. "What's that supposed to mean?" Yolanda pouted. "I told them you were the son of the King and they just blinked at me. You are the King's son, aren't you?" "Of course I am," I retorted, offended. "Elves do not lie. It's just that I'm the younger, illegitimate son, and for some reason the Royal House has decided not to pay my bills, never mind the extravagances of a totally unrelated Vulpitanian hanger-on." "HEY!" Yolanda barked. "It's being sorted out now," I conciliated. "I hope. Meanwhile, Uncle Roland wants to go clubbing and wonders if you'd like to tag along." "Sounds interesting. What is it?" "It's a sport where you go out into the orchards and whack peach spiders out of the trees with a big stick." 3Image: 0114yoyuck "Eww, that sounds revolting," Yolanda exclaimed with disgust. "You go ahead, and when you get back I'll model the new outfits I got before they cut me off. You can tell me what you think of them!" Even with all my Wiles training, I could barely suppress a shiver of dread at this prospect. I headed up to my suite to find Lemmy sitting and staring out the window. "I thought you were still under orders to follow me around everywhere and see to my safety," I reminded him. "Huh?" Lemmy retorted, coming out of his reverie. "Come on. The Marshal wants to go clubbing, and we're to accompany him." "Will it take long? Alice's shift at the embassy ends at six o'clock." "It will take however long it takes," I explained. 4Image: 0114lesigh Lemmy stood up, sighed, and rolled his eyes. "Fine. Let me get my hat," he said. ************************************************** 1Image: 0116hatixie We did not know about this at the time. (line) "How are things going with you and Miss Chetsweeks?" I asked Lemmy after he put on his hat and we were heading downstairs together. "Puzzlingly," Lemmy sighed. "She seems interested in me, but she refuses to do anything more than cuddle." "Who knew that a Vulpitanian would be such a virtuous maiden?" I commiserated. "She's not like other girls," Lemmy scowled defensively. "Okay, sorry, let's change the subject," I conciliated. "Have you noticed a change in Marshal Roland's behavior lately?" "Hmm, I don't really know him much better than you do," Lemmy admitted, "but he sure doesn't seem to be acting the way I would expect a commander-in-chief to behave. Probably his secretary, Sergeant Wing, could tell you something. Or that spooky Master of Elfhame, if he's still around anywhere." (line) At the Palace while we were out: 2Image: 0116awman "Aw, MAANNN," Estmere moped. "How come Adler gets to go clubbing with uncle Roland and his friends?" "Because he's a white Bastard who will never be fit for rule," the King answered. "Now get back to your Statecraft lessons." (line) 3Image: 0116theresone After we arrived at the orchard, I decided boldly to try to penetrate my great-uncle's thoughts with Elfmind while he was distracted with whacking peach spiders. "Concentrate on the hunt, Your Grace," he thought at me. "There's a big one on that bough up there!" By Fuma, he was good! I was going to have to practice more. (line) 4Image: 0116goodhunting After an afternoon of spider whacking, we all were well spattered with peach juice and arachnid ichor. "Yep," the Marshal opined, "there's nothing quite like the satisfaction of bludgeoning an adversary to death with nothing but your own strength and the most primitive of implements." "That was one of the most repugnant things I've ever experienced," I admitted with disgust. "It needs to be done," the Marshal pointed out. "Otherwise the spiders would overrun the orchard, spoil the fruit and frighten away the bees which pollinate the peach blossoms. And as far as the mess goes, well, back in the old days we weren't nearly so fastidious. Why, Irenaeus, the great founder of our empire and patriarch of our family, used to go into an ecstatic battle-trance at the sight of fresh blood spilled on his stark white fur. Aye, what a glorious spectacle that must have been. They just don't make elves like that anymore." ********************************************* 1Image: 0118vacation "I never imagined the Grand Marshal of Faerie would have so much leisure time," I insinuated. "Ordinarily I don't," the Marshal chuckled. "Back in Albric it's all work and Operations and banquets and Diplomacy. With half the Empire locked in Winter, I have much less to do. Coming down here to sunny Persoc always feels like a vacation." 2Image: 0118rolliehmm My great-uncle rubbed his chin and looked at me thoughtfully for a moment. "Let's return to the hotel," he said suddenly. "After you've gotten cleaned up, come over to my suite. I'm sure Wing will have a nice little tea-time snack ready for us. Bring the rest of your companions and we'll make a pleasant afternoon of it." 3Image: 0118posing After I had washed and changed, Yolanda insisted that I sit down and watch her twirl around in one of her new outfits. "The Marshal is expecting us to tea!" I protested. "We have time enough for you to tell me how much you like what I'm wearing," she insisted. "You look ravishing, as always," I observed. "Say, do you know anything about what's going on between Lemmy and Miss Chetsweeks?" "I don't know what exactly is going on between Lemmy and Alice," Yolanda admitted, "but it's got to have something to do with the fact that she's just a tail." "What is that supposed to mean?" I asked. "Literally, she's just a tail. Her body is artificial. It's, like, some sort of automation that was designed by the fox people and built by magical toymakers in the Elfhome place." 4Image: 0120gawp "You do know that lying carries dire consequences for an elf," I warned. "Totally true," Yolanda declared. "There are two creepy little eyes at the base of her tail. I've seen them. The rest of her is artificial. If Lemmy doesn't know, then that's probably the cause of their relationship trouble." "Well, I still find your story hard to believe," I skeptically admitted, "but if you say it's true then I guess it must be. Now come on; Marshal Roland is expecting us for tea. We're going to be late!" ******************************************* 1Image: 0120teaparty Sgt. Wing ushered us into the Marshal's suite, where tea was already underway. "You missed some excitement, Your Grace," Lemmy said. "There was a spider in my hat. We tried to club it but it moved too fast and got away." "I'm not at all certain that was a spider," the Marshal muttered ominously. "Funny color. Odd shape. Much too nimble." "What are you doing here, Miss Chetsweeks?" I asked. "I thought you were busy at the Embassy until later this evening." "I was granted leave to come here at His Highness the Marshal's request," the receptionist explained. "Sorry we started without you, but that's what comes of being late, my lad. We've already divvied up the cake and I'm afraid there isn't any left," the Marshal chortled as he shoveled a forkful off of the entire cake which he had on his plate. "Beg pardon, Yer Ighness," Sergeant Wing interjected. "Ate to contradict you, but I took the liberty of securing a spare cake - to be eld in reserve, as it were." "Good man, Wing," the Marshal boomed, scattering cake crumbs on his uniform. "Dashed clever of you!" 2Image: 0120foodsnob "But you, Winterbough!" the Marshal scolded, turning to the hooded figure which I hadn't noticed over there in the corner. "Everyone's entitled to his eccentricities, but HER WHISKERS man! You are positively confounding sometimes! We have the opportunity to enjoy the best peaches in the Empire, yet there you sit with your persimmon tart." "I like persimmons, Gracious Lord," the Master of Elfhame replied quietly. "They remind me of home." "This cake is delicious," I declared after Wing had retrieved the spare from its hiding place and served it up. "I must get the recipe from you." "I'll just see if the missus is willin to divulge that information, Yer Grace," Wing said with a conspiratorial wink. "You're married?" I exclaimed in surprise. "I had no idea!" "The Chief may be a bachelor, but that don't mean we all are." "Here, Adler, take a scry at this and tell me what you think," the Marshal said, momentarily setting aside his cake in order to hand me a heavy gilded object. 3Image: 0120comb "I'm not getting much," I explained as I handled the object and tried to project my mind into its past. "It seems to have spent most of its existence in a box, seldom handled, unused. It's very old isn't it?" "Quite old, and extremely valuable," the Marshal explained with a grin. "That's King Irenaeus's tail comb." I was about to ask my great-uncle to tell me more about this object, when suddenly there was a loud rap at the door of the suite. 4Image: 0120delivery Wing opened the door and stood beak-to-beak with the hotel page. "Private letters for SALV Cognomena and SALV Chetsweeks," the page explained, holding out two sealed letters on a tray. "Oo told you they were ere?" Wing asked suspiciously. "A Vulpitanian courier brought them with instructions to deliver them to this suite, sir." ***************************************************** 1Image: 0120letters The vixens opened their respective envelopes and read the contents. "I sure am glad this isn't written in Elvish," Yolanda murmured as she scans the page. "GREAT AUK! I've got to go meet my parents! I mean my real ELF parents! Gosh!" "I'm supposed to bring SALV Cognomena to the Embassy and expedite the processing of her travel visa and see her on her way," Miss Chetsweeks explained calmly. 2Image: 0124slyvixen "Yesss," Miss Chetsweeks continued, with a shifty expression. "We'd better get going, because these preparations might ... take a while ..." 3Image: 0124revoir "So long, Adlie-Poo," Yolanda said wistfully as she leaned in for a goodbye kiss. "Be sure to look me up when I'm Princess of Vulpitania." I was not fond of Public Displays of Affection - especially in front of Marshal Roland. I cringed and muttered something about that being the day. "Farewell, madam," the Marshal boomed jovially. "Best of luck to you. I say, Agent O'Possum, why don't you escort the ladies to the Embassy? I will keep His Grace the Duke here with me. Oh, and teashor why don't you toddle along as well; extend a diplomatic invitation to His Excellency the Vulpitanian Ambassador for lunch with me tomorrow." As everyone got up and meandered toward the door of the suite, the Marshal leaned over and whispered: "You're probably wondering why I handed Irenaus's tail comb to you for analysis." I had to admit, I was curious about that, but before I could reply, Sergeant Wing handed the Marshal a small roll of paper. "The otel page anded me this to give to you, Yer Ighness," he said. Then he deftly swept the tea things onto a tray and left the room. The Marshal unrolled the paper and began reading its contents. 4Image: 0124thebill "My word!" he exclaimed. "You've certainly been living it up at the Crown's expense, young elf." "Most of that is Yolanda charging things to my account," I protested. "I am content with a basic room and simple fare, but she demands every luxury." "Well, I'll see that all of this," he waved the bill for emphasis, "is covered. But these extravagances must come to an end." "Whatever you advise, I will abide by in this matter," I placated. "Now then," the Marshal continued, in a conspiratorial tone, "to return to the matter we were discussing..." Suddenly there is a high-pitched shriek from the corridor, followed by a dull thud, a scream, a yell, and much general hubbub. ***************************************************** 1Image: 0127mishap I rushed out into the hall to see Miss Chetsweeks getting up off the floor, Yolanda cowering against the wall, and Lemmy completely freaking out. "Are you all right, Alice?" the possum quavered. "You went down like a sack of rocks! That fall had to have hurt!" "The only thing injured is my pride," Miss Chetsweeks muttered grimly. "My tail hurts more than anything else. Vulpitanian tails are very sensitive. Even an idiot Changeling should know better than to slam a door before making sure it's clear. Someone that inconsiderate deserves to be married a grey 3000 year old lunatic and live with him under a log." Yolanda whimpered apologetically. "Are you sure you're all right, dear?" Lemmy persisted. "I ... I could have sworn ... it looked for a second there like your tail came completely off!!" "That's preposterous," Miss Chetsweeks insisted with a scowl at Yolanda. "Who ever heard of detachable tails?" 2Image: 0124westermunch "TEASHOR!" the Marshal bellowed as I re-entered the room. "Why are you still here? Did I not instruct you to go and extend a lunch invitation to the Vulpitanian Ambassador?" "Just finishing my tea first, Gracious Lord," the Master of Elfhame explained. "Finish it on the way, man! I meant for you to accompany the group that left just now," the Marshal clarified. "Scoot with all due haste, before they've gone!" "So, what was all that brouhaha in the corridor?" the Marshal asked me conversationally, as the Master of Elfhame gulped down the rest of his tea and hurried out. "Apparently Yolanda slammed the door on Miss Chetsweeks' tail, causing her to fall," I explained. "Don't really care, lad," the Marshal interrupted. "I was only waiting til they're all gone so we can discuss ... wait - you say Chetsweeks fell when the door was slammed on her tail?" "She, um, may have a detachable tail, sir," I stammered. "If Yolanda's information is accurate, Miss Chetsweeks is some sort of automaton, and her tail is the only part of her that's real." "I SAY!!" the Marshal exclaimed. "That is interesting! I've seen Elfhamian automata of course, but never have encountered one that could actually carry on a conversation ... that kind of uncanny realism is ..." He seemed lost in thought for a moment, then shook his head. "Never mind all that for now," he stated with determination. "Got to focus on the matter at hand! Artificial vixens are a mystery for another day!" 3Image: 0127questgiven Marshal Roland leaned in close to me and whispered in a conspiratorial tone: "Nephew, I am sending you on a QUEST." I wasn't sure what to say to that, so I just stared at him and blinked politely. "It used to be a regular part of any elf's coming-of-age to go on a great Quest," the Marshal elaborated. "But this great and noble tradition has fallen into disuse over the past few generations. However, I believe the custom should be revived, and furthermore I think your mother would approve of this course for you." "So ... what exactly is my Quest?" I cautiously inquired. "I task you with this, Adler Young: To find the birthplace of Irenaeus the Great, sometimes called Lacktail, prophet of Fuma, founder of the Mephitist Empire, and progenitor of our bloodline!" 4Image: 0130glee A QUEST!!! Adventure! Excitement! Personal growth! I could scarcely believe it, but it was true: My great-uncle had just given me a Quest. I was going to be a Questing Hero, just like the great elves of old. This was SO AWESOME!! ***************************************************** "So where is Irenaeus' birthplace?" I asked. 1Image: 0130yesbut "Tsk," the Marshal tutted. "That would be telling, now wouldn't it? The whole point of the Quest is for you to FIND the place." "Okay," I continued, "then may I be permitted to do some research in the Royal Library?" "Unfortunately, no," the Marshal stated flatly. "As I said, Quests have fallen out of favor. It would not do to have you calling attention to yourself by using official channels of inquiry. Questions might be asked, and ... pardon me for pointing it out, Your Grace, but you are still the Bastard. I can't requisition you an ant either, for the same reason." "I don't know how to ride one anyway," I admitted ruefully. "Well, you'd better get started," the Marshal urged. "Your Quest awaits." The thought crossed my mind that this could be a ruse to get me out of the way for a while. But for what purpose?? It was probably pointless to speculate. If Marshal Roland had something up his sleeve, all I could really do was comply with his orders. "May I keep the tail comb?" I asked. "It may provide a clue." "By all means, take it with you," the Marshal graciously allowed. "But take extra care of it - and don't let anyone see you carrying it." I bowed and left the Marshal's suite. I began to mentally review everything I knew about Irenaeus the Bloodthirsty. 2Image: 0130hmmm Thanks to Dame Chitterleigh's musical tutoring, I could sing from memory about 90% of the Irenaead, an epic Elvish poem which chronicled the deeds of King Irenaeus ... but the Irenaead didn't mention anything about the High King's birth. My great-uncle mentioned Irenaus' role as Prophet of Fuma. It was well known that the King brought the Mephitist religion to the pagan elves - along with his conquering armies. Maybe the Church would know something about his birth. The Marshal didn't say I couldn't ask a priest about this. I moseyed over to the Persoc Abbey to find Brother Matthias puttering around in the chapel. "What do you know about King Irenaus's birthplace?" I asked, coming straight to the point. "Thinking of making the pilgrimage, eh?" the monk asked. "How wonderful to see one so young expressing such devout interest." 3Image: 0130hereyago "Here you go. This should tell you everything you need to know," Brother Matthias said, pulling a folded document out of his robes and handing it to me. I unfolded the paper and looked inside. 4Image: 0130brochure "Come visit Athstead, celebrated birthplace of Irenaus Lacktail!" it read. There were full particulars concerning the hours of operation for the pilgrimage site Museum and Gift Shop, a list of nearby Food and Accommodation, and detailed directions explaining how to get to Athstead from Persoc Tor, Albric Tor, and Caer Adland. *************************************************** Either my great-uncle was having a strange joke at my expense, or this was the most disappointing quest ever. Unless there was some sort of secret I was supposed to discover ... I eagerly scanned the brochure for hidden clues, but it only revealed the best place in Athstead for fish & chips, as well as what time the Birthplace Pilgrimage Shrine was open to visitors ("Dawn to Dusk every day regardless of the weather!") The directions from Caer Adland mystified me. Caer Adland was an allied Independent City-State outside the boundaries of the Empire to the Southeast, ruled by a chap known - oddly enough - as King Adland. It was actually quite far away, and I wasn't sure why this brochure even included directions from there. A traveler from Caer Adland would most likely come to Albric or Persoc first, and follow the directions from there to Athstead. Strange. If this was truly the birthplace of Irenaeus, it was remarkably well-known and easy to get to - which made me wonder why the Marshal tasked me with a Quest to find it. Quests were once part of an elf's coming-of-age, so obviously he wanted me to participate in that tradition. But then again, Quests were supposed to be challenging; that was the whole point. The Quest was supposed to test a young Elf's mettle. This task, on the other hand, looked so easy as to be almost insulting. Maybe Athstead wasn't really where Irenaeus was born, or maybe there was something I was supposed to discover when I got there. Perhaps the Marshal gave me Irenaeus's tail comb for a specific reason. I was just going to have to go to Athstead and find out. The thought crossed my mind that this Quest conflicted a bit with the Royal Command I had received, but then again ... the King didn't tell me to watch my great-uncle or keep close to him at all times. Just to "help" him. This could presumably include doing his bidding and going on his Quests. I briefly contemplated asking Estmere to watch the Marshal while I was away, since he owed me several favors ... but I was specifically ordered to stay away from him, so unfortunately asking my brother for help was out of the question for now. Nobody said I couldn't take somebody with me, though. Since Lemmy was supposed to accompany me wherever I went anyway, I thought I might as well find him and persuade him to tag along. But first, there was a very crucial item I needed to acquire for the trip. I counted the silver in my pocket and decided it would be more than enough for a pilgrimage, including coach fare, cheap lodgings, and food for several days. I wished there was some way to call ahead and have a room reserved for my arrival, but I had never used Elfmind over a long distance. I didn't know if it was even possible. Maybe, if this had been Official Business, I could have used the VB semaphore system ... but the Marshal insisted that I keep a low profile. It was for that reason that I stopped at a stall outside the Abbey and purchased a cheap, ill-fitting shirt decorated with flowers symbolizing Fuma's everlasting fertility and Her promise of renewal and rebirth; the traditional garb of a penitent Elf on a Spiritual Pilgrimage. 1Image: 0203floralshirt About halfway to the Vulpitanian Embassy, I met Lemmy coming back the other way. "You look like a street preacher," Lemmy observed. "What's with the religious getup?" "I've got some free time," I explained, "and why shouldn't I go to Athstead and visit the shrine of Irenaus's Birthplace, to see where the Dynasty was founded and meditate on the past and the future of the Empire?" "No reason not to, I guess," Lemmy admitted. "You're certainly dressed for it." "Want to come with me?" I asked. "I have to either way, don't I?" the Possum observed glumly. "It's fine though. Alice has been extremely cranky ever since her fall, so I should probably stay away for a few days til she cools off." "Shall we get you a shirt?" I offered. "No thanks. I'll just wear what I've got on." "Well, let's head over to the coach stand and see when the next one leaves." 2Image: 0203hihorace When we arrived at the coach stand, I was delighted to see Horace (my old kitchen colleague) on the driver's perch. "Good day, Your Grace," he exclaimed, doffing his hat. "You certainly look holy this afternoon. Going on Pilgrimage?" "I feel an urge to check out Athstead," I explained. "What a stroke of luck!" Horace neighed excitedly. "This very coach is leaving for Athstead in just a few minutes. It's quite a popular destination this time of year. Hurry and get your tickets and I'll wait for you." I quickly purchased tickets at the nearby booth, and climbed into the coach. 3Image: 0203tagalong "All aboard?" Horace whinnied. "Then off we go!" He twitched the reigns, the ants "GRONNKed" in acknowledgment, and the coach began to move. ************************************************ If "adventurous" meant tedious and annoying, then this trip was paying off big Adventure dividends so far. 1Image: 0206blabbers The other two passengers were so unbearable they made Yolanda look downright agreeable by comparison. The elderly owl kept hooting and cracking jokes while the shrew knitted and expressed her opinions. "If you ask me, we should go back to eating lowfolk," she proclaimed. "It's the only thing they're good for. This ridiculous plan to breed with them will do what exactly?" "It will bring them up a bit from their condition of barbarity," the owl pointed out. "But only a bit," the shrew insisted. "Meanwhile what do we get out of it, besides being lowered to almost their level?" "We send Changelings to learn their ways," the owl mused. "Perhaps twould be better to learn ways to cook them? HOO!" "Indeed it would. Say, did you hear about the incident at the Ferifax Festival? The Free Elves' Liberation Front sabotaged it, and afterward a bunch of spirits were observed escaping from the area." "Most curious indeed," the owl hooted with interest. "The Front is striking a noble blow against tyranny." "Quite," the shrew nodded knowingly. "And do you know, someone in the Royal House isn't even a proper elf?" "WHO??" the owl demanded excitedly. "The Crown Prince himself! His mother, you know, the one that disappeared? I heard she was actually a swapling ... so their son is some sort of half-elf abomination. You can tell by his loutishness, something's not right. Plus I heard the Prince was in thrall to some wile-witch from Caer Adland. No true son of Irenaeus would let himself be snared like that." "Tis a pity the Royal Family doesn't have some like this devout young fellow," the owl opined, waving his feathery hand at me. "Making a pilgrimage to Lacktail's birthplace. Right proper thing for a fellow your age to be doing, lad." I silently acknowledged the owl's compliment - the shrew simpered at me over her knitting - and turned my attention back out the window. 2Image: 0206vbtower We passed a VB semaphore tower and I observed its unmistakable red-and-white signal device. 3Image: 0206seethat "Hey, check it out," I said to Lemmy. "The semaphore flag really does look a lot like a Vixen's Brush." "Please," Lemmy groaned. "Fox tails are the last thing I want to think about right now." I noticed that he refrained from calling me "Your Grace," for which I was thankful - given present company aboard the coach. "Maybe Miss Chetsweeks isn't the one for you," I pointed out. "You should keep your eye out for a nice possum lady." "Quite right," the shrew intruded. "Miscegenation for pleasure does nobody any good in the long run. You owe it to yourself, not to mention the future of Elfkind, to find a mate of compatible breeding stock!" "Possums are so rare though," Lemmy sighed. "Sometimes I think we're a dying breed." "Sure you aren't just pretending to be a dying breed?" the owl asked, wittily. "HOO HOO HOOO!" The shrew snickered at the owl's bon mot but Lemmy just scowled under his hat. After the owl finished laughing and dabbing his eyes with a handkerchief, he reached into his vest and pulled out a wriggling pouch. "Mouse, anyone?" he asked. "House mouse or field mouse?" the shrew asked. "The chap I bought them from in Persoc Tor assured me they were wild-caught Orchard Mice," the owl explained. "When the spider population declines, then the mice breed like crazy." "If only our population concerns were so easily solved," the shrew mused. "Thanks, I don't think I want one." "You?" the owl asked, holding the bag out toward Lemmy and me. "I'll pass," Lemmy muttered. "No thanks," I choked, then blurted out "HEY LOOK AT THAT!" and turned toward the window. 4Image: 0208egad I tried not to hear the chomping and slurping noises from inside the coach as I stared forlornly out the window. I had no idea that this kind of ill-will against the Royal Family and Imperial Policy existed among the common people. I had been sheltered at the Capital most of my life, and hadn't had much contact with the elf-on-the-street. Then again, the shrew might not have been an accurate representative of the population at large. She seemed to be a very petty and small-minded creature. Somebody with less patience (or maybe more gumption) would have told her off most sternly. Heh heh ... if Miss Grainmaster were here, she'd have given them Netherhells for their foolish prattle. That shrew needed to be spanked. Yeah ... I momentarily entertained visions of "taming" her, but I simply didn't find her attractive enough for these thoughts to hold my attention for more than a few seconds. Hmmm ... the shrew did say something about a "wile-witch" from Caer Adland. I guessed that she must have meant Utica. I never realized that the Huntress was an immigrant, but now that I thought about it, it made sense. Her exotic breed of ungulate didn't come from the Albric Tor region. I didn't think bigotry had a magickal origin, but then again it wouldn't hurt to make sure. I was just about to do a silent check, when suddenly somebody shouted "HOLD!" and the coach lurched violently. *************************************************** 1Image: 0208nobodymove I turned back inside the coach to see what was going on, only to behold the shrew with her bonnet off and brandishing her(?) knitting needles threateningly. The coach rocked and I heard the sounds of a scuffle outside. "Nobody move, and this will all go smoothly," the shrew growled threateningly. "My accomplices have the coach surrounded." "A female bandit??" the owl hooted in surprise after choking down his last mouse. "I'm a man in disguise, idiot," the shrew snarled. "A man KNITTING??" the owl hooted in disbelief. 2Image: 0208kerpow BOOF!! The shrew punched the owl in the face, rendering him unconscious! 3Image: 0208possumd I turned desperately toward Lemmy, but the possum had yielded to his natural instinct, and was not going to be of any use during this crisis. "Looks like your pal has checked out," the shrew observed. "Good. Saves me the trouble. Now if you value your life, stay put and don't make any noise." The shrew hitched up his skirts and climbed out of the coach. "Good work, fellows," he snarled. "You took care of the driver?" "Oh, we got him good, boss," somebody else replied. 4Image: 0208horaceko I peeked out the window to see Horace lying on the ground, with a bandit standing over him. Oh Fuma, Oh Fuma, this was bad!! ************************************************* I huddled in the corner of the coach and thought about mushrooms. "Get the others out of the coach," the shrew commanded. "Two unconscious and one little runt in a pilgrimage shirt; he won't give you much trouble." The door opened and two bandits lunged in. They hauled out the owl, rifled through his pockets for valuables and then dumped him unceremoniously back in his seat. They grabbed Lemmy and searched his pockets - finding nothing. "Hey, dis guy is empty," one bandit proclaimed. "He looks dead," the other observed. "Hey Sid, did you kill this one?" "He ain't dead, you nitwit," the shrew hissed. "He's a possum. He's just pretending to be dead." "Izzat so?" the first bandit mused theatrically. "Well, he won't mind then if I do dis!" Consumed by a dreadful curiosity, I peeked over the edge of the window ... 1Image: 0208wedgie ... to see one of the bandits, a huge burly raccoon, lifting Lemmy by the waistband of his trousers and giving him a savage wedgie. "Maybe dat'll wake him up!" he chuckled. "Oh Clark, you are a panic!" the other bandit gasped between gales of laughter. "Being Unseelie is the best!" "Hey, you knuckleheads!" the shrew yelled. "Stop screwing around! Murder and robbery is one thing, but I draw the line at wedgies! Where's the little pipsqueak?" "What little pipsqueak?" Clark asked, dropping Lemmy onto the road like a sack of potatoes. 2Image: 0208mushrage I could feel myself beginning to panic ... along with waves of rage at the way these hooligans were treating my friends ... losing my grip ... my heart was racing ... I couldn't catch my breath ... I reached into my Elfintory without even thinking, and grabbed Utica's bow ... "He was in the coach, wearing a pilgrim shirt! How could you miss him?" the shrew was yelling... 3Image: 0208carnage And then suddenly all three bandits were dead. That was odd. I wasn't carrying any arrows. I felt like I had just woken up from a nightmare. My heart rate and respiration eased down to normal and my head began to clear. 4Image: 0208awesome I surveyed the scene of carnage in numb astonishment. A small voice, very close by, exclaimed: "THAT. WAS. AWESOME!!!" **************************************************** GREAT FUMA! My mind reeled in amazement. This was a most surprising and unexpected turn of events! Did I really just massacre a gang of bandits in a blind, Irenaeus-like Blood Fury??? That was kind of impressively bad-assed ... on the one hand I thought there should be some sort of system whereby the cosmos would reward me for such accomplishments. But on the other hand, I realized that the very concept was morally reprehensible. That was the Unseelie path! I felt a little queasy as the reality of it sank in. But wait. Didn't I hear a voice just now, saying that was awesome? "Who said that?" I stammered uneasily. 1Image: 0211hithere "Twas I, big boy," the Ixie replied. "I've been watching thee for a while, and I am beginning to like what I see." Holy Fuma! It was that Ixie-whatsit insect creature that I saw in my vision, eating the aphids that day when Evan Klive tried to abduct me! She was kinda hot for a bug; I immediately thought that maybe I could seduce her as a way of getting information. ... though, I immediately realized our size difference would make things extremely difficult ... not to mention how totally inappropriate such thoughts were in the context of the moment ... By Her All-Pervasive Musk!! The realization began to truly sink in that I had just killed three people in the blink of an eye! Sure, they were bad guys, but still. I KILLED them. They were DEAD. 2Image: 0211blar3 I leaned over the window sill and vomited emphatically. When I finished heaving and looked around, the Ixie was gone. I tucked the bow back into my Elfintory, and briefly pondered what sort of cover story I should tell if anyone asked about this incident. And then I stopped, utterly horrified. Cover story? COVER STORY??? I was an ELF, and I would tell the TRUTH! There was no need to come up with any fanciful version of events. Not even the Unseelie did that! What had gotten into me? First I slaughter three people, and then I contemplate lying?? Unbelievable! I shook my head to clear my thoughts and tried to decide rationally what would be best to do next. The Owl was here in the coach with me, so I turned to him first. He stirred and hooted feebly when I asked him if he was okay, so I left him and crept outside to check on Horace and Lemmy. I was guessing from the look of things that Horace was hurt the worst, so I went to him first. He was breathing. That was good. I wished I'd had time to learn some healing magick from the palace Herbalist. I unbuttoned Horace's collar and started chafing his wrists. I had heard that was supposed to help when someone was knocked unconscious. While I was working on Horace, the Owl stumbled blearily out of the coach. "What in blazes??" he screeched in alarm when he saw the dead bandits. "HOORK!" 3Image: 0211hurls Horace awakened and sat up just as the Owl coughed up a mouse. The horse blinked uncertainly a few times and then retched. I had just enough time to dodge out of the way before he started to spew the contents of his stomach. Behind me, Lemmy roused and joined in on the regurgitating action. Well, at least it seemed that everyone was conscious and (relatively) unharmed. 4Image: 0211reacharrow Still not quite having come to grips with the fact that he was dead, I crept nervously toward the shrew's body with two arrows sticking out of its back. The arrows didn't look familiar, but then again, arrows were arrows. Utica taught me to shoot, but my lessons never delved into the finer details of fletching or whatever you call it. When I grabbed an arrow and tried to pull it out, it vanished - leaving no mark on the body. Not even a hole in the clothes. I didn't know how I could have magickally created arrows without being aware of it ... so that meant Utica's bow must have been magickal. But I had already checked it a while ago, after the message recorded into it had played, and I detected nothing. So where did these arrows come from? *************************************************** Putting aside the mystery of the arrows for a moment, I was also facing the sobering reality of there being bandits on the road - nay, the very King's Highway - right here in the heart of the Empire! Something was amiss! I was reminded of the still-unsolved mystery of Sir Evan Klive's assassination somewhere in the vicinity of Albric Tor, which was even more implausible than the attack I witnessed today. I noticed luggage strapped to the back of the coach. Lemmy and I didn't have any bags, and I doubted Horace would have had any, so that meant these trunks must have belonged to ... I opened one, which was full of feathers and small bones. I was staring into it with mixed revulsion and horror when the Owl rushed up, hooting "HEY, that's mine!" "Sorry," I said, shutting the trunk and setting it aside. "This one then, must belong to the bandit chief." I opened it only to find it stuffed full, practically overflowing with wigs, dresses, cosmetics, and ... feminine underthings. The Owl and I were staring in terrified wonderment at this abundant cornucopia of gauze and lace, when - perhaps inspired by a glimpse of some tortoiseshell hair combs nestled amidst a balled-up satiny something - an odd thought struck me. I pulled Irenaeus' tail comb out of my Elfintory and examined it closely. 1Image: 0211losteeth Sure enough, four teeth were missing from the comb. "Hey, what just happened here?" Lemmy asked hoarsely as he stood, dusting himself off and adjusting his trousers. "Someone seems to have shot all the bandits," I pointed out evasively. The statement was technically true... "Oh," Lemmy said, scratching the back of his head. He seemed a bit dazed. 2Image: 0214gulp I thought again about this horrible thing which I had done. Killing bandits on purpose would be a fine and admirable thing, but killing them like this - unintentionally - well ... let's just say it wasn't something an Elf could be proud of. I would have felt a lot better about all of this if I only knew HOW I had done it. Also, oh crap, Irenaeus' tail comb was damaged. There were teeth obviously missing, and I didn't notice any missing before. My great-uncle was going to be furious with me for being so careless with a precious family heirloom. Oh well, I decided I might as well make the most of the situation. I suppressed a shudder of revulsion as I rifled through the bandits' pockets for evidence. 3Image: 0214loot The two masked bandits were carrying standard thug/assassin gear: A Persoc Tor dagger, a short peachwood club, and a handful of coins (probably stolen!) The shrew was carrying all this, plus a mascara brush and a lipstick ... and maybe some other stuff concealed among his petticoats, but I didn't feel much like digging around in there. "Are you looting the dead?" the owl hooted in alarm. "I was hoping to find out where they came from," I explained. "But I think some of this money might be yours." The owl patted his pockets, hooted in dismay, and started searching the bandits. 4Image: 0214draw_zpsb59ab14f.gif I really wanted to know where those arrows came from, so I stepped around to the other side of the coach and pulled out my bow. I drew back the string, but an arrow failed to magickally appear. *********************************************** Info Break! SEELIE vs UNSEELIE I've had several questions about this during the course of my tale. Seelie elves are good; Unseelie elves are bad. I don't see what's so difficult to understand about it. Well, okay, to be fair, I suppose it's a little bit more nuanced than that. Most criminals are Unseelie, but not all Unseelie are criminals. And an elf does not convert, he simply is one or the other. An Unseelie elf can choose to behave in a morally upright manner, but a Seelie elf cannot do wicked acts and still be Seelie. Unseelie is sort of like what you might call a political party. They have their clubs and organizations - and throughout our history there have even been a few Unseelie kingdoms - but a government based on principles of evil tends to self-destruct fairly quickly. Oh yes, and while I'm on the subject, I'm reminded of something I forgot to mention in my earlier remarks about lying: There is a slight exemption in the case of an Honest Mistake, but the offending elf must retract and/or correct his statements as soon as he discovers his error. STANDARD EQUIPMENT My decription of the bandits' gear brought skeptical remarks from some - but come on, everybody knows this is the basic equipment for a highway bandit! I read about it in a book when I was a little elflet. 1Image: 0218profskunk Wow, I haven't thought about Wise Professor Skunk's Tomes of Instruction for Youths in a long time. I'm pretty sure the information about bandits was in the one called "Caution When Abroad." Or maybe it was "Know Your Dangers!" Now that I think back on it, Wise Professor Skunk looked quite a bit like Marshal Roland dressed in a cap & gown... ********************************************** 1Image: 0214mamalemmy Lemmy circled around the coach and nervously approached me. "Are you sure you're all right, Your Grace?" he stammered. "Did .. did they touch you in any way?" "Seriously, I'm fine," I explained. "I did my mushroom trick, you know, the one I used to give you the slip that time. They never even saw me. Oh, and by the way, I'd like to point out that you were pretty much useless in this situation. Playing dead at the first sign of trouble is a lousy strategy, especially if it's your job to be looking after someone." "Yeah, sorry," he mumbled regretfully. "It was you wasn't it? You killed them." "I think so," I admitted. "I was carrying this bow, but no arrows though, so I'm not sure what happened. If it was me, I don't know how I did it. All I can say for certain is that I didn't see the face of the killer." "That is eerie," Lemmy murmured, wide-eyed. "This whole trip is all about King Irenaeus," I observed. "We're heading to his supposed birthplace, and the Marshal gave me one of Irenaeus' personal items - a gilded tail-comb. I'm certain it was intact when I received it, but now it is missing four teeth ... and the bandits were shot with four magickal arrows, which vanished when I tried to retrieve them." "That is spooky," Lemmy whispered, awed. "I have the comb right here, and here's my bow, but I can't figure out how to get the arrows to appear. Maybe if I -" I nocked the comb itself on the bow-string and pulled it back. 2Image: 0214shootcomb Well, that was stupid. I ran and picked up the comb, carefully dusted it off, and examined it closely. The teeth were still missing. As I thought about it, I had to admit this was a rather stupid and pointless artifact. My psychometric reading indicated that the comb had never been used, which made sense, but why would Irenaeus Lacktail even have a tail comb in the first place? I had initially assumed that he owned it before he lost his tail, but in that case why keep it? Why pass it down as a family heirloom unless there was more to this object than met the eye? I suspected that it might be enchanted, but I couldn't detect any magicks on it. My white fur had been mentioned a few times in the context of reminding people of Irenaeus, and I was tempted to envision some great Royal Destiny for myself - but it was probably best not to succumb to delusions of grandeur. Maybe the Marshal was thinking of something like this when he gave me the comb and sent me on this Irenaeus-related quest, but I felt it was unwise (not to mention premature) to assume anything until I had all the facts. My biggest worry right now was figuring out how I accomplished this blind killing spree, and whether something similar was likely to happen again. My best guess, since neither the comb nor the bow appeared to be magickal, was that whatever happened was caused somehow by me. I was frightened and angry, and I was shooting at living targets. None of those conditions could be replicated at the moment, so there wasn't much more I could do. Suddenly I had an idea! The Voice of the Forest would clear up any doubts! I put away the comb and approached one of the trees beside the road. 3Image: 0218askatree "What happened here?" I asked. "You killed them with your bow, hooray!" the tree whispered in reply. Okay. Not super helpful, but at least I knew now that I was definitely the one who did the shooting. I thought about taking the bandits' loot, but I didn't really want to touch them again. Besides, I was pretty sure the Owl had already cleaned them out. I wondered if it would be best to wait at the scene for the authorities to arrive, but we were out in the middle of nowhere. It could be days before a patrol showed up. Clearly we were going to have to come to them. As soon as I could find some authorities, I would file a full report. There was probably a guard station in Athstead, once we got there. ... or, hmm ... a VB semaphore post would have somebody there to operate it, and they could send a message ahead. This was probably urgent enough to justify using the semaphore system. However, I didn't see a post nearby - which was odd, since they have to be placed within sight of each other, and I had always assumed they followed alongside the roads. "Well, what's done is done," I loudly announced. "We can file a report on this incident as soon as we get to a place where some Imperial Authority is present. Meanwhile, I propose that if everyone is feeling steady enough, we should get back aboard the coach and continue on our intended journey." "Are you coming?" I asked Lemmy, who was standing quietly, gazing at the dead bandits with his hat in his hand. "I'll be there in a minute," the possum replied. "I just feel like I should say a few words over them, or something." 4Image: 0222pithy "I didn't know him very well," Lemmy sighed, "and he didn't seem like a very good Elf. Not a very good bandit, either. But if the Lady can forgive wedgies then I hope his spirit rests warm and snuggly in Fuma's everlasting Embrace." "Nice," I said. "Now let's go." ********************************************* Lemmy and the Owl climbed into the coach, but Horace grabbed my arm before I could board. "A moment, Your Grace," he muttered. "Where exactly are we headed from here?" "On to Athstead, I suppose," I mused. "Though .. wait .. we should stop at the nearest VB post and file a report about this bandit incident. If you know where one is." 1Image: 0222horacelost "Well, you see, Your Grace, that's the thing," Horace whickered nervously. "I, uh, actually have no idea where we are." "Haven't you traveled this route before?" I asked in astonishment. "Sure, I've driven the Athstead pilgrimage road lots of times," Horace insisted, "but I don't recognize this place at all!" 2Image: 0222owlost "WHAT??" the Owl screeched. "WE'RE *LOST??*" "Please calm down, sir," I soothed. "We will figure this out." "How does an experienced coach driver get lost?" the Owl continued. "I mean, there's the King's Highway and there is NOT the King's Highway. If we're off the road, then it's because he drove us off it! He's in cahoots with the bandits! We're doomed! Forest trolls are going to come and eat us! Why oh why did I ever leave my mother's nest?" "Are you in cahoots with the bandits?" I asked Horace, sternly. "Of course not! How could you even ask that?" Horace replied. "I've never seen them before today! I've also never seen this place before today. I have no idea how we got here. As far as I can recall, we were on course." "He's cursed," the Owl hooted forlornly. "He's under some spell. We'll never get out of here. We might as well sprinkle ourselves with salt and pepper and wait for the trolls." "Will you shut up about the trolls?!?" I snapped. "I'll just ask the trees where we are." "You can hear the Voice of the Forest?" the Owl asked, clearly impressed. 3Image: 0218askatree "So where exactly are we?" I asked the tree. "Here." "Right. Okay. Thanks for that. Which direction is Athstead from here?" "What's an Athstead?" "The place where King Irenaeus was born." "Who? Who was what exactly?" There was some murmuring all around as the trees discussed this matter in a leafy conference. "You mean born like sprouted from a seed?" "Sort of, yes. Irenaeus was a white skunk, like me. He was the first High King of Faerie, a long time ago." "Sorry. Don't know him." "Look, can you tell me which way is North?" "Which way is what?" "Never mind." For a moment I tried to recall Wise Professor Skunk's advice for situations like this, but staying put and yelling for help didn't seem like a very effective course. I was also pretty sure there were no forest trolls around here - but then again, I thought there weren't any bandits either. I trudged back to the coach. "What did they say?" the Owl asked anxiously. "Nothing useful, I'm afraid." The Owl hooted in despair and started muttering that he hoped they fried him rather than roasting. 4Image: 0222knitting "Hey, what's that?" I asked, pointing to a scrap of fabric on the floor of the coach. "I believe it's that horrible shrew's knitting," the Owl replied. I picked up the piece of fabric and examined it. The stitches were odd .. irregular and tangled. Maybe Sid the Shrew was a lousy knitter - or maybe - I was just about to check him for magickal auraus when I was interrupted by the sudden ambush, but now I had a hunch ... ********************************************* The knitting was faintly vibrating with magickal energy. It was a low-level sympathetic spell, very simple but very effective. My guess was that the shrew had tangled up the group's sense of direction in the jumbled stitches of this knitting. 1Image: 0222unravel I quickly unraveled the piece, and the magic dissipated. "Oh hey! I know where we are now!" Horace exclaimed as he climbed into the driver's seat. "How in the world did we wind up on this side road? This doesn't go anywhere!" 2Image: 0222vigilant The coach began to move. Lemmy and I peered nervously out the windows of the coach as the forest glided past ... could there be more bandits (or trolls) lurking out there, just beyond that curtain of greenery? "The nerve of those bandits!" the Owl hooted in disgust. "Attacking decent folk in broad daylight, right in the very heart of the Empire! Mark my words, it's a sign of the decay of civilization. Well, they got what they deserved. You're a hero, young fellow. If I have any say in the matter, you'll receive a commendation." "Say, Lemmy," I asked. "In your line of work have you ever come across weapons secretly disguised as innocuous items, like, oh I dunno, a smoking pipe that's actually a blow-gun, or a pair of spectacles that turns into a crossbow, or a comb that turns into arrows?" "I can't divulge that sort of information," Lemmy responded mysteriously. "Sorry." "Okay, well, I'm going to meditate for a while and reflect on these events, sorting out the details in my mind so I can file an accurate report on the whole thing," I announced. 3Image: 0222om I felt like I should have been more upset about killing three people, but the fact was they were bandits, and the Guard Patrol would have killed them anyway when they were eventually caught - as all bandits must be in the end! Such a shame. I wondered why shrews, voles, and raccoons were drawn to that sort of life. I felt a bit saddened to see what I thought were outmoded stereotypes being confirmed by direct experience. It was just a fact that raccoons were larcenous, much as foxes were crafty and shrews were irritable. Ultimately it seemed one could not resist his true nature, for we were all as Fuma made us. 4Image: 0222z Before long, my meditation had deepened into a full-fledged slumber. ****************************************************** 1Image: 0222whathuh The next thing I knew, Lemmy was jiggling my shoulder and saying, "Wake up. We're here. We're in Athstead." "Wha?" I mumbled, blinking the sleep from my eyes. "Where are we? Here already? What's so funny? What are you guys giggling about?" "You were snoring and mumbling in your sleep," the Owl snickered. "Come on now, let's get out of this coach," Lemmy urged, with an inappropriate grin. "We've arrived at our destination!" I stepped blearily down from the coach and looked around. I wanted to find a Royal Guard station first thing. 2Image: 0222theron BY FUMA'S GLISTENING TOE-CLAWS!! There, standing in front of a tavern, was the eagle changeling I saw eating my stew in a vision back in Albric Tor! He was all dressed up in a snappy uniform now, but I was certain it was him. What was he doing here??? My first thought was of stew, since it was in a culinary context that I first saw this character ... however, there was no way he could know that, and it might be best not to let on that I recognized him. It would raise too many questions which were really quite irrelevant at this time. Lemmy and I climbed down out of the coach and approached the tavern. I took off the bandit cap which he and the Owl had put on my head while I was sleeping (ha ha, you guys, SOOO funny) and stashed it in my Elfintory. 3Image: 0225greetings The eagle bowed formally and uttered, in a raspy voice, "Welcome to Athstead, honored Pilgrims. Patrol Cadet Theronmyathus at your service." 4Image: 0228slipaway "Well, I'll just be on my way then," Horace announced with a tip of his hat, as he quietly eased the coach away from the curb. **************************************************** For some reason I could not stop thinking of stew. It was making me feel a bit giddy and distracted - especially since I had no stew, and there was no kitchen in sight. "Therein what now?" I blurted foolishly. "Whew, that's a doozy! Do you mind if I just call you Thierry?" "I would prefer, if you cannot properly pronounce my name, that you simply refer to me by my rank," the eagle replied. "Which is Cadet," he added, after an awkward pause. "It's not that difficult, Your Grace," Lemmy explained. "Just repeat after me: There. On. My. Athus." "What's an Athus and what exactly is there on it?" I guffawed. 1Image: 0228sternlook Oh dear. He looked quite the opposite of amused by my display of wit. This was not going well. Perhaps I could still salvage the situation. "Sorry, Cadet," I apologized breezily. "Do you mind telling me what exactly is your function around here?" "As a Cadet, it is my duty to assist travelers who arrive in the town," he explained. "So you're sort of like a tour guide?" I asked, hopefully. "No," Theronmyathus clarified. "But I can direct you to a reputable guide if that is what you wish." 2Image: 0228heybuddy "I just realized I haven't introduced myself," I declared. "Duke Adler Fitzgawain, second son of His Majesty King Gawain, up from Persoc Tor for a bit of pilgrimage. I'll bet a young officer such as yourself -" "A Cadet isn't an officer, Your Grace," Lemmy whispered. "Officer in training," I continued, "like yourself must know all the swingin' spots in this steading. So tell me, where can a hip young Duke get some action around here?" 3Image: 0225sterntheron "I'm not sure I know what you mean, Your Grace," the eagle muttered coldly. "Well, uh, blast," I floundered. "Then perhaps you can help me with this: We were waylaid by bandits on the road from Persoc Tor, and well, I sort of ... killed them. Whom do I need to see to file a report?" "If Your Grace would care to wait here in the town square, I will fetch the Lieutenant of the Watch. There will be some forms for you to fill out." With a curt bow, Cadet Theronmyathus turned on his heel and walked briskly down the street. 4Image: 0228keepsakes Across the square I saw a Keepsakes stall, so I ambled over to peruse the wares while I waited for the Watch Lieutenant to show up. "Greetings, honored sir," the merchant said in an oily voice. "Can I interest you in a Souvenir to commemorate your Pilgrimage? We have these very fine replica Tail Combs, an assortment of badges to affix to the back of your conveyance, adorable Baby Irenaeus dolls for the wee ones, and Pilgrimage Tokens available only here in Athstead." "Why tail combs?" I asked. "Isn't King Irenaeus famous for, you know, not having a tail?" "You have detected the irony in this item," the merchant admitted. "Tis a bit of a jest, you see; tail combs as a memento of Irenaeus Lacktail - though he is known to have owned at least one. He started his life with a tail, of course, but lost it in an accident after he had attained the age of majority. Afterward, for a while, he wore a false tail, but as his power increased he decided to defy tribal tradition and make the taillessness thing sort of his signature. These replicas are based on the original tail comb which is kept as an heirloom by the Royal family." "Do you have souvenir cards, perhaps with pictures, which I can write on the back of and send home by post, to tell my friends that I am in Athstead?" I asked. "What a remarkable idea, sir," the merchant said, slightly awed at my ingenuity. I contemplated buying a Baby Irenaeus doll, but I had no real use for one. Yolanda might have appreciated it, because it looked a bit like a tiny version of me - and what femme wouldn't want a tiny Adler to cudde? But just before Marshal Roland gave me this quest, Yolanda had received word that she was to be shipped off to Vulpitania. With luck, she wouldn't be in Persoc Tor when I returned. Dame Chitterleigh might be there, though. Eventually I decided to buy a Baby Irenaeus as a potential implement of Wiles, a Pilgrimage Token to prove I completed my Quest, and a Replica Tail Comb out of sheer curiosity. I was pretty sure I would be able to tell the replica from the original, because the original was missing some teeth. Later, when I was somewhere private, I could compare the two to see how similar they really were. Maybe I could even foist off the replica on the Marshal, and then he would never know I had damaged a priceless antique. Yeah .. I could just hand it to him with no comment, and as long as he didn't ask, I wouldn't have to tell him it wasn't the real one. That wasn't lying, that was just misdirection. ********************************************************* "So where exactly is Irenaeus' birthplace?" I asked the souvenir merchant, after handing over my money. "It's definitely in Athstead," the merchant said, somewhat abruptly. "Tradition maintains that the Birth occurred on the site of the present Pilgrimage Shrine." I was just about to ask where the Shrine was, when I was distracted by a sudden hubbub across the square. I was about to go investigate, when a voice behind me said, "Pardon me, Your Grace Duke Adler?" 1Image: 0304watchlt I turned around to see Cadet Theronmyathus looking just as grumpy as ever, and beside him a tall possum femme in a Patrol Lieutenant's uniform. She was holding a clipboard out toward me. "If you would be so kind as to fill out this standard Bandit Incident form, I can begin processing your report," she said. "There may have been a bounty on the bandits you encountered, particularly if they were working the Highway." 2Image: 0304formfill I started to peruse the form, which was full of questions about time of day of the enocunter, wind speed and direction, number of bandits, size of bandits, species of bandits, odor of bandits ... this was more complicated than I had expected! And Lemmy was not making it any easier; he was distracting me with some sort of high-pitched whining sound. "Can I hold onto this for a while?" I asked. "Certainly, Your Grace," the Lieutenant answered. "Just bring it to the Watch post down there at the end of the street when you're done filling it out." She turned and walked back in the direction of the Watch post, while Cadet Theronmyathus resumed his position in front of the tavern by the coach stop. 3Image: 0304aldermen I was still standing there, puzzling over the form (and trying to ignore Lemmy's heavy breathing) when a trio of well-dressed elves approached me. "Ah, greetings honored Pilgrim," the squirrel schmoozed, wringing his hands. "Your Grace the Duke, is it not?" the heavily whiskered one (possibly a groundhog?) insinuated. "Welcome to Athstead," the vulture fawned. "We are the town Aldermen." "Athstead is totally the birthplace of High King Irenaeus the Great," the squirrel declared. "According to ancient tradition." "Permit us to extend to you the best of Athstead's hospitality," the whiskery one offered. "Free admission to all Pilgrimage attractions, and complimentary accommodations at our finest inn," the vulture proclaimed, "for you and your assistant." "Well, that's awfully kind of you," I exclaimed. "Thanks!" I ambled towards the tavern to avail myself of some complimentary accommodation, as the Aldermen grinned and bowed. As I passed Cadet Theronmyathus, I leaned toward him. "When does your shift end?" I asked quietly. "Why does it matter to you, Your Grace?" the eagle croaked. "Look," I sighed, "I guess we got off on the wrong foot, but I've grown up here in Faerie not knowing anybody my own age except for the Prince. I want to hang out with you and prove to you that I'm not such a bad guy. Play along and I could introduce you to my great-uncle ... Marshal Roland." He seemed a bit impressed at the dropping of that name. I could see him briefly considering his options. "I will come find you when I come off my shift," he grumbled. I entered the tavern with a small sense of triumph. AH, this was the place for a Questing Hero! I paused and breathed in the atmosphere. In all the old adventure epics, these Pilgrimage taverns were meeting places for all varieties of elves. There was always a bard providing entertainment. It was more than likely he would know certain local songs and tales which would help me figure out the exact location of Irenaeus' birthplace, or at least why people thought it was here in Athstead. I approached the hump-backed old elf tending the bar, and asked him where was the bard. 4Image: 0304isaidbard "EH?" he said, pulling out a brass funnel and sticking it in his ear. "YOU'LL HAVE TO SPEAK UP, SONNY." "I said, where's the Bard," I yelled into the funnel. "YOU'RE THE BARD?" he exclaimed. "BOUT TIME YOU GOT HERE! I MUST SAY, YOU LOOK EVEN BETTER THAN I EXPECTED. THE RESEMBLANCE IS UNCANNY - BUT, EH, WHAT'S WITH THE BIG FLUFFY TAIL? EVERYBODY KNOWS HE DIDN'T HAVE A TAIL! I WAS TOLD THAT YOU WERE A PROFESSIONAL!" ************************************************ 1Image: 0308possumlove I wondered if Lemmy had some hidden ability which might be useful for communicating with this old elf, but the possum's mind seemed to be adrift in some distant realm. He was not going to be any use for the immediate future. 2Image: 0308louder "I'M NOT THE BARD YOU ARE EXPECTING," I bellowed. "I DON'T EVEN HAVE A LUTE!" "LOOT?" the camel wheezed. "NICE TRY, BUT YOU DON'T GET PAID UNTIL WE'VE HAD SOME MUSIC." 3Image: 0308playthese He gestured at some instruments lying on a bench in the corner. "GET ON 'EM," he suggested. With a sigh of exasperation, I turned away and scanned the room for anyone who might be more informative. I spotted a well-heeled looking patron sipping ale at a booth in the corner. "Pardon me, sir," I asked politely, "but where is this tavern's bard?" 4Image: 0308oinky "Ain't you him?" the pig asked. "I mean, you got the white fur just like what we expected, and you're a dead ringer for Irenaeus. But I gotta agree with what Said said; the tail is a bit, whaddaya call it, incongruous. Plus, the pilgrim outfit don't really match with the public perception of him. Honestly if you expect to keep this gig, you better be a REALLY good singer." HUMPH! Of course I was a good singer! I was trained by one of the best! I decided to show these small-town yokels just what a Minor Duke could do. **************************************************** 1Image: 0308balladeer I grabbed the lute, tuned it up, and launched into the first ballad of the classic song cycle based on the Irenaead. Within minutes, the tavern patrons were all stamping their feet in time to the music, and joining in on the chorus: OH, the Lacktail skunk and his holy monks Twere but useless to resist; Come with fire and sword and the saving Word, He is Fuma's conquering fist. IRENAEUS, king of kings, Prophet of sword and mace! It is to his memory we sing, For he brought us the Lady's grace. As I sang, my mind wandered over many theories and suspicions. Everyone had been slightly evasive in their answers, which made me think that perhaps Athstead was NOT the true birthplace of Irenaeus. Also, the Irenaead and its related ballads mentioned nothing about the High King's birth (nor even his early childhood) ... all of this, along with the fact that my great-uncle rather mysteriously gave me a quest to find the birthplace of Irenaeus, made me suspect that there were Shocking Secrets to uncover here. But then again, this was all pure conjecture. I would need to find more evidence to support any kind of theory. But for now, another chorus! I had the tavern patrons completely enthralled by my performance. 2Image: 0308realbard A white feline elf with a lute slung across his back strode into the tavern and stopped in amazement. "What in the nine Netherhells is this???" he yowled in outrage. 3Image: 0310beatitsquirt "Nice tail, pipsqueak," the cat hissed. "Don't you know that Irenaeus didn't have one? And the pilgrim shirt is totally period-inappropriate. If you're gonna steal somebody's gig you should at least have the decency to do it right." "My apologies," I appeased. "I actually came here looking for you, but the innkeeper is hard of hearing and assumed I was the bard. He wouldn't take no for an answer, so I played a bit while waiting for you to arrive. It's all a big misunderstanding!" "Clearly you misunderstood how insulting it is for a serious Bard to come in and find some no-talent amateur stealing his audience," the cat snarled. "Now step aside and let a professional work." 4Image: 0310caterwaul The cat whipped out his lute and started playing some really fast licks and singing his intro: "I'm Jimmy James Jay-John and I ain't no punk. I've got the chops and I know the lore. So forget this stinky little tourist skunk. My bardly skills will lay him on the floor." A CHALLENGE! **************************************** Jimmy sang a few more insulting verses, then lowered his instrument and smirked at me. The tavern patrons all turned to watch and listen. I was tempted to go all Gangsta Bard just like Jimmy did, and sing a boasting song about myself, the White Duke, Heir of Irenaeus, etc etc, but revealing my identity in such a way would have violated my uncle's orders to be subtle. I decided instead to keep to the classic traditions. 1Image: 0310crooner I sang the Ballad of the Wandering Maiden, with just a touch of Elfsong. Halfway through it, every elf in the tavern was weeping openly. I finished with a modest flourish, and the room erupted with wild applause. "Elfsong??" Jimmy screeched. "You Fuma-damned little cheater!" 2Image: 0310soreloser The cat pulled a dagger from his belt and brandished it at me. His eyes changed color from disturbingly pink to a frightening red. "I won't go back to being a pool boy!" Jimmy yowled. "No more humiliation! I need this job! I would've been here on time except I was waylaid by bandits on the way, and I had to fill out a bunch of stupid forms at the Watch office! I don't need my already bad day ruined by some uppity magick-singing punk! I'll show you how a professional Irenaeus impersonator guts his enemies and wears their pelt as a bathrobe!" 3Image: 0310sapped Suddenly Lemmy clouted the cat on the back of his head, and he collapsed to the floor in a heap. 4Image: 0310ishedead "Goodness!" I gasped, staring at the prone feline. "Is he ... did you ...?" "He'll wake up in an hour or two with a really bad headache," Lemmy stated flatly. "Now we've wasted enough time here. You need to fill out those forms and return them to the Watch post." "INTERESTING SHOW," the innkeeper yelled from behind the bar, "BUT I'M STILL ONLY PAYING FOR ONE PERFORMER. NOBODY TOLD ME TO EXPECT A TROUPE." ***************************************************** I was momentarily overcome with thoughts of misplaced pity toward Jimmy the Bard. Sure, in light of the Aldermen's offer of free accommodations, perhaps his need was greater than mine ... but then again I earned the money by doing his work for him. It wasn't my fault Jimmy was late, nor that Said mistook me for him. The fact remained that I sang some songs, therefore I deserved at least a portion of a Bard's wages. 1Image: 0313jimsshare The tavern keeper gave me a handful of coins. I counted them, and tossed half of the amount onto Jimmy's unconscious form. "I need to go out for a bit," I announced. "Is it okay if he sleeps it off here?" "WHAT?" Said wheezed in reply. (line?) Once outside, I pulled from my Elfintory the Incident Reporting Form and biro-bird quill which the Watch Lieutenant had loaned me. 2Image: 0308reportform This thing was incomprehensible. I didn't know the answer to most of these questions. I wished there was somebody I could pay to fill out these forms for me, but alas ... I was going to have to do it yourself. I mulled over the forms, line by laborious line, as Lemmy and I strolled the streets of Athstead. 3Image: 0313everythingok "Is everything all right, Your Grace?" Alderman Gwiwer asked nervously as I circumambulated the Plaza. "Mmm, yes, fine," I muttered distractedly. I was finding it very difficult to focus on the forms; if it wasn't outside distractions, it was my own thoughts wandering from the subject at hand... 4Image: 0313pause2reflect Hmm .. Jimmy said that he too had been waylaid by bandits and had to fill out these forms. It seemed like there was perhaps a crime wave on the roads leading to Athstead! As I pondered this situation, my mind wandered further. How did I wind up being who I was at this moment? Was I really an exceptional elf, or were my abilities commonplace? I picked up Elfsong during the course of my music lessons with Dame Chitterleigh. I had always assumed it was an innate Elven ability. Couldn't every elf do Elfsong? Every elf who could sing, that is ... I had never really thought about it before, but I recalled with a start that Estmere could not do Elfsong. Then there was that old prayer to Fuma which seemed to surprise Brother Matthew that time at the Cathedral. It was probably part of the lore I learned from Eudora, or something my mother made me read. I had to read a lot of books as part of my Gramerye training. Lots of elves read, didn't they? Of course, none of this explained how I was able to kill three bandits almost instantaneously with a bow and an antique comb. Obviously it was something magickal. Maybe it had to do with my Irenaeid heritage ... but then again, I realized I shouldn't assume anything. That might just be wishful thinking. ****************************************************** "Hey," I said to Lemmy. "You were awfully effective in dealing with that aggressive Bard. How come you haven't been so ruthlessly efficient before now?" "Are you done with those forms yet?" he answered brusquely. "I'm afraid I have no idea how to fill out some of these items," I confessed. "Let's go on to the Watch office," Lemmy suggested. "Maybe they can offer some advice on that." I could guess the reason why Lemmy was so eager to get to the Watch office. Thoughts of Wiling the Lieutenant away from him were faintly amusing, but I was disinclined to be quite such a douchebag as that; especially after seeing how effective he was with a truncheon when his dander was up. 1Image: 0313lieuenant "Ah, Your Grace," the Lieutenant said, rising from her chair as we entered the office. "I'm having some trouble filling out these forms," I explained. "Don't worry about it," she said, dismissively. "A detailed report has already been filed on your behalf. As soon as my team returns with the bodies - just to confirm the kills, you see - then we can disburse your reward." I was just about to ask the Lieutenant some very pertinent questions about all of this (like, who filed the report for me, and how much was the reward) when suddenly Lemmy leaned across the desk. 2Image: 0313heybeautiful "Agent Inspector 3rd Class Lemuel O'Possum, Office of Internal Affairs, very much at your service ma'am," he stated suavely. "What's your name, and more importantly, when do you come off duty?" We didn't have time for this! "C'mon, man," I wheedled, tugging on Lemmy's sleeve. "We've got things to do!" 3Image: 0315glare Lemmy turned and gave me a glare that chilled me to my marrow. I let go of his sleeve and he turned back to the Lieutenant. "I'm Watch Lieutenant Mara Supial of the Imperial Highway Patrol," she explained, "and I come off duty when the day's tasks are done." 4Image: 0315smoooth "Well today is your lucky day, Mara," Lemmy schmoozed. "May I call you Mara? I happen to be available to help you finish up all your work, and then take you out for some much needed R-and-R." "Um," Lieutenant Supial stalled. "Can you lift fifty-pound boxes?" "Pffff," Lemmy snorted contemptuously. "Can I lift fifty-pound boxes? Just let me at 'em!" ******************************************************** Meanwhile At the tavern 1Image: 0313jimbonk Jimmy the Bard awakened just as furious as he was when he was knocked out. He looked up, and promptly knocked himself out again by bashing his head against the crossbeam of a small table which Said the camel had thoughtfully placed there to keep tavern patrons from accidentally stepping on him. 2Image: 0315aargh After another short interlude, Jimmy finally extricated himself from beneath the table. He stood and screeched a yowl of fury to the heavens. 3Image: 0315warpaint Jimmy applied traditional Manx warpaint to his face as he hissed threats of bloody vengeance through clenched teeth. "HUH?" Said the Bartender asked. 4Image: 0322bravojimmy Jimmy the Bard emerged from the tavern and stalked down the street, raving and cursing. "I'll have his guts for garters!" he screeched. "I'll grind his bones to make my bread! I'll split him from stem to stern!" A small crowd gathered to watch his performance, and applauded after each furious outburst. "He's very good," one pilgrim whispered to another. "He has evoked Irenaeus perfectly." "PHILISTINES!!!" Jimmy yowled. The crowd applauded again. ********************************************** For a moment, I contemplated using Elfmind on the Lieutenant ... Lemmy's approach was horrible, and I would have liked to help him out ... but then again, it was probably best not to interfere. After that dirty look he gave me, I felt more inclined to let Lemmy sink or swim on his own. Besides, I had important investigating to do! I couldn't hang around here while he tried to romance the possum lady. It would be much too painful to watch, at any rate... 1Image: 0315hairs I was going to need some way to get in touch, in case of emergency. I didn't think Lemmy was particularly attuned to Elfmind, so I picked up his hat from the Lieutenant's desk, and removed a few hairs from the lining. I guessed this would be enough to forge a Sympathetic magickal link, should I feel the need to do so. I tucked the hairs safely into my Elfintory, and replaced the hat on the desk. 2Image: 0315gescat I quietly eased out of the Watch office and strolled across the street, where a sign on the porch of a house proclaimed: "IRENAEUS POOPED HERE." A dog elf in a silly outfit lounged against the wall. "Really?" I asked, pointing at the sign. "Sure thing, Pilgrim," the dog stated with a grin. "Would you like to view the Royal Droppings?" "Um, no thanks," I declined. "But can you tell me exactly where Irenaeus was born?" "In Athstead, for sure," the dog asserted cheerfully. "Try over at the Shrine." "Where's the Shrine?" I asked. "Easiest thing is probably to get a Tour Map from one of the vendors in the plaza," the dog suggested. "Then you'll be able to find everything." 3Image: 0315map I moseyed back down the street to the plaza, where I purchased an official Tour Map and a Pilgrim Lollipop from an honest-looking lizard at one of the stalls. The Lollipop was huge, and it tasted just like a Persoc Tor peach fizz. The Map presented a simplified overview of Athstead's streets, with all points of interest marked with various symbols. Colored lines indicated the best routes for most efficiently seeing the sights. The Green line was for Dutiful Pilgrims and it took in pretty much everything. The Red line was for Curious Visitors, and it directed me only to the sites of greatest import & interest. The Yellow line was for Gadabouts; it stopped only at the taverns, pubs, and restaurants. While pondering which route to follow, I ambled off in the direction of the Shrine, as indicated on the map. 4Image: 0315heysucker I took a lick of my Lollipop, and suddenly heard a tiny voice, very close by, say "Surely thou'rt not going to eat that whole thing all by thyself?" *********************************************** After recovering from my surprise, I felt indignant at this creature who had been dogging my steps for who knew how long, and showing up at inopportune times. What made her think she was entitled to a taste of my lollipop? But then again, I had no idea what she was capable of. The Marshal mentioned that Ixies might be dangerous ... plus, if I wanted to get any information from her, it was best to play nice. As the old saying goes, you catch more flies with honey... Or Wiles, as the case may be. I was going to break off a piece of the lollypop, but the candy was hard as a rock - and though it was extremely big as far as lollipops went, it wasn't big enough to get a firm grip on. Eventually I gave up and tilted the lolly toward her, asking "Would you like some?" 1Image: 0317lllick The Ixie grabbed onto the candy with all four hands and started licking it rather more sensuously than propriety allowed. Her wings fluttered and she emitted a tiny moan of pleasure. Either she really REALLY liked sweets, or she was trying to Wile me with this performance. "Um, I don't think we've been properly introduced," I interrupted. "I am Adler Fitzgawain, the Royal Bastard. Who are you?" The Ixie wiped her mouth on the collar of my shirt and said, "Ann Ominous Orse, codename Ladybird. Pleased to meet thee." "You've been following me for a while," I pointed out. "Who are you working for? My mother? Do you have news of her?" 2Image: 0317notelling "Uh-uh," the Ixie chided. "That would be telling." "Well, I'm going to visit the Birth Shrine of Irenaeus," I declared. "If you'd like to tag along, I'd be glad of your company." 3Image: 0317teehee "Give me sugar and I'll follow thee anywhere, big boy," the Ixie tittered. "It seems you follow me everywhere anyway," I noted. "Cheeky!" she laughed. "What do you know about King Irenaeus?" I asked. 4Image: 0320dreamy The Ixie got a faraway look in her beady eyes. "He was brave, bold, reckless, savage, violent, and breathtakingly beautiful," she sighed. "What an absolute dreamboat he must have been." "Do you have any suspicion that Athstead might not actually be where he was born?" I inquired. "Everybody sayeth this is the place," she shrugged. "Who am I to contradict them? And doth it really matter that much?" ****************************************************** I was just about to whisper a Gramerye command ("Be irresisitble and intoxicating to Ixies.") to the lollipop while pretending to lick it - 1Image: 0320hesitation when the thought occured to me that this might not be such a good idea. I could end up being swarmed by the creatures. For a moment I entertained the possibility of purchasing sugar in a more volatile, potent liquid form with which to ply the Ixie ... but then again, why bother? The lollipop seemed more than adequate, and considering it was already ruined with Ixie slobber on it, I decided I might as well sacrifice it to the cause. "Art thou going to hover there sniffing that thing, or art thou going to lick it?" the Ixie asked. "Oh, sorry. Would you like some more?" I raised the candy up to her again. 2Image: 0320gnaw She glommed onto it and proceeded to gnaw the edge in a most undignified manner. Her shell opened, her wings fluttered erratically, and she let out a series of slobbery little squeaks of delight. After a few minutes she straightened up, shivered violently once or twice, and exclaimed, "OOOOHYEEEAAHHHHH!" "You really enjoy your sugar, don't you?" I observed. "I feel a bit lightheaded," she squealed giddily. 3Image: 0320shocker "Thou knowest something?" the Ixie slurred drunkenly. "Thou and Yolanda wert totally HOT together, but thou wast more tender with Eudora. I cannot decide which I prefer." "Are you implying that you watched while we -?" I asked, alarmed. "Just doing my job, Duke," she smirked. 4Image: 0320insinuation "Which is not to say I didn't enjoy every minute of it," she added, in a tiny but husky voice. "Thou'rt good, but I wager if I were thy size, I could still teach thee a thing or two, My Grace." She opened her elytra and buzzed her wings suggestively. **************************************************** 1Image: 0320lesigh "Well you're NOT my size, so let's not waste time speculating on the impossible," I squelched. "Don't be too hasty to rule anything out," she cooed. 2Image: 0320gottafly We had almost arrived at the Birth Shrine of Irenaeus, when: "Pardon me, Adler," the Ixie squeaked suddenly. "Gotta fly! I shall catch thee later!" She buzzed away before I could say anything. Strange. I looked at the Shrine. It was housed inside a small square stone building which I would have taken for a cistern or a storehouse were it not for the small bronze plaque identifying it as the Birth Shrine of Irenaeus the Great. I stepped inside. 3Image: 0320shrine The room was bare but for some sort of reliquary or altar thingy in the corner, and a solitary Mephitist monk. "Is this the Birthplace of Irenaeus?" I asked. "Who says it isn't?" the monk parried. 4Image: 0320detective An amphibious elf in an outlandish traveling costume suddenly stepped up behind me and said, "Beg pardon, Your Grace. Do you have a moment to talk?" "No pipeweed allowed in the Shrine!" the monk quacked sternly. ************************************************** Info Break! There have been questions regarding my name and title. Adler Fitzgawain? His Grace the Duke? What does it all mean? Shouldn't I be receiving income from County Fitzgawain? Well, actually I was a Duke only by virtue of being the King's son. Perhaps I didn't make it clear enough earlier in my tale that my position as Bastard granted me neither land nor title, therefore I was not the "Duke OF County Whatever." Fitzgawain means literally Bastard Son of Gawain. It is a descriptive term, not the name of a place. And even if it was, and I were the Duke of it, it would by definition be a duchy, not a county. Counties are ruled by Counts. And to be a Count, you have to wear a cape. Got it? No? Let me see if I can explain in more detail (with help from that handy reference "Guide to the Nobility of Faerie" by Baron Vancho I) and hopefully head off any further questions on this topic. My father, Gawain, was High King of Faerie, Protector of the Western Reach, etc. His line was that of King Irenaeus, and thus he was of the Irenaeid dynasty. His father was Adler the Prudent, so he was called Gawain Adlersson. He was the highest noble in the land, and had two sons: Prince Estmere, and myself. My half-brother, Estmere, was Prince and heir to our father's realm. As a prince, his rank was equivalent to my father's vassal dukes. He was Estmere Gawainsson, Prince of the Realm of Faerie. Marshal Roland, as the legitimate brother of the King's father, was second in line for the throne. He held no noble landed title, but was appointed Grand Marshal of Faerie. As Marshal, he was supreme in military matters of the realm, but inferior to the landed nobility in legal disputes. Roland Sartoriusson was a pretender to the throne, holding a claim through his father, my great-grandfather Sartoruis Othosson, "the Dissolute." I, Adler, was a recognized bastard son of the King. As such, I was third in the line of succession, since Roland had no trueborn heirs. I had been granted the title of Duke, though a minor duke, perhaps closer to a marquis, above the counts and earls, but below the dukes. As I had not been legitimized at this point in the story, I could not claim to be of the family of Irenaeus, even though I was descended from his line. Therefore I was Adler Fitzgawain, and, due to court politics, held no fief despite my ducal title, and seemed to be little more than a nuisance for the King himself. I would only have a chance at succeeding to the throne if I were legitimized (putting me ahead of Marshal Roland in the succession) or if both Estmere and Roland were to be discounted from succession, either by death, joining the clergy, treason against the realm, or something else. It's just a bunch of convoluted Statecraft. I can hardly keep track of it all, myself. I had no income, seeing as I had no lands, and therefore I lived on a modest stipend received from the King. Which was, of course, why I had to rely on the Crown to pay my hotel bills instead of me paying them out of my own Personal Fortune, which I did not have then and still do not have now. ******************************************************* I was tempted to pull the reeking pipe out of the smoking elf's mouth, but then again, I had already offended enough people today. "Shall we go outside?" I offered. He nodded, and we stepped out onto the sidewalk. 1Image: 0322glenholm "I actually have official Authorization to smoke this anywhere in the Empire," the amphibian explained. "But it's probably best not to antagonize the monk in there. Thank you for your thoughtfulness, Your Grace. I am Detective Glenholm Gloams-Webb, but you can just call me Glenholm Webb. Shall we get started?" I nodded in acquiescence. "Did you travel alone on the coach to Athstead?" Glenholm Webb asked. "The one that was held up by bandits?" "No, I was accompanied by Agent Inspector 3rd Class Lemuel O'Possum of the OIA," I answered before I could stop myself. "There was also an owl on board, and a shrew who turned out to be the bandit leader dressed as a woman ... and Horace, our driver, who moonlights as a chef for special events." "I see," Glenholm Webb nodded, as if my statement confirmed what he knew already. "Did your companion assist in subduing the bandits?" "No. He's a possum, so he lapsed into a cataleptic state at the first sign of trouble." "Of course. So then, were you the sole person who subdued the gang?" "As far as I know. I didn't see anybody else, and the trees said I did it." "The trees, eh? Are you trained in Magick, Your Grace?" "A little bit, yes," I admitted nervously. "But nothing like this." Why was I talking so freely with this elf? Was it his calm & easy manner, or was he using some sort of pseudo-Wile on me? "Are you carrying any magickal items?" Glenholm Webb asked. "Well, I'm not sure," I admitted. "None of these things has a magickal aura, but there must be something to them, else how could I have subdued those bandits the way I did." I emptied my Elfintory and handed it all to the detective: sticky lollipop .. souvenir tail comb .. authentic tail comb .. pilgrimage token .. baby Irenaeus doll .. Utica's bow .. bandit hat .. WHY DID I DO THAT??? I watched apprehensively as Glenholm Webb studied the items. One by one he handed them back to me until he was holding just the antique tail comb. "Is this your property, Your Grace?" he asked, holding it up. "No. My great-uncle, Marshal Roland, lent it to me." "Why is it missing teeth?" "I don't know, but the number of missing teeth is equal to the number of arrows that were shot into the bandits." "What happened to those arrows?" "They vanished when I tried to pull them out." "Well, thank you, Your Grace. You've been most helpful," Glenholm Webb smiled drowsily, handing back the tail comb. "Oh, one more thing: How high is a roebuck?" "I have no idea," I shrugged. "Huh," Glenholm Webb grunted, with a puzzled blink. "Good day, then." The frog turned and walked away, distractedly puffing on his pipe and staring at the ground. 2Image: 0322thinkitover Now that Glenholm Webb's lightning-fast (but oddly low-key) interrogation was over, I resumed pondering the matter which originally brought me to the shrine. That monk's answer to my query could have probably been best described as "evasive," but there were very good reasons for an elf to answer thusly. Hmm. I would have to approach this problem with some delicacy, subtlety, and tact... It only took a few seconds for my mind to begin wandering. That Ixie, the Ladybird ... she was crude and crass but I could not deny she was quite a hot little number. Perhaps there was more to her than met the eye. I didn't know much about Ixies; I had no idea how long they lived, nor whether there were any males of the species. There must have been, otherwise how did they make more Ixies? Unless the Ladybird was the only one? I had never seen any others... But the fact that she talked like lowfolk implied that she lived in their world. Maybe that was where Ixies came from. It would explain a lot. It only took a few seconds for my mind to wander to even more inappropriate speculations. The Ixie had made certain lascivious implications that if she and I were the same size ... It would be theoretically possible to shrink myself with Gramarye. It would take quite a powerful exertion of will, but the basic principles were sound... 3Image: 0322ohmy Though, the more I thought about it, the more I realized there could be dangerous pitfalls if one were not absolutely thorough. I put this idea away to ponder later. Right now there was important Questing to be done! I looked again at the bronze plaque on the side of the building. It said: *BIRTH SHRINE IRENAEUS THE GREAT* That definitely didn't give away any information. I carefully scrutinized the details of the architecture as I re-entered the building. 4Image: 0322eavesdroppr I immediately noticed a small, wiry gray fox-elf clinging impossibly to the vault ribbing at the top of one of the Shrine's pilasters. *********************************************** I was just about to let out an exclamation of surprise, when 1Image: 0322mumstheword the fox winked mischievously at me, and placed a finger to his muzzle in the universal "shush" symbol. He nodded his head in the direction of the monk, indicating for me to proceed interviewing the holy duck. "Welcome to the Birth Shrine of Irenaeus," the monk quacked. He seemed unaware of the fox lurking overhead. 2Image: 0322monkbeak "Did you dodge my question when I was in here a few minutes ago?" I asked him. "What was your question?" he asked. "Is this really the birthplace of Irenaeus?" I reminded him. "Did it seem like I dodged it?" the monk parried. "Yes." We stared at each other for a moment. "Well how about that?" the monk mused rhetorically. "Look," I sighed, "I'm really interested in Irenaeus. People have pointed out that I bear a strong resemblance to him, and I'd just like to find out more about him. Where can I go to get some real, practical knowledge about our first High King?" "No better place for that than Athstead," the monks proclaimed confidently. "Well then who's the best person around here to ask about Irenaeus?" I inquired. "Where can I find that person, and when is the best time to approach him or her?" "I'd say I am the ideal person to consult," the duck opined. "And there's no time like the present." 3Image: 0325glare I leveled my best Glare at the monk, and tried a different rhetorical angle. "Where in Athstead was Irenaeus born?" I demanded. "And don't answer me with a question!" "Irenaeus was born at his birthplace, of course," the monk answered instantly. "And am I standing in the birthplace of Irenaeus?" I asked. "You're standing in the Birthplace Shrine," the duck admitted. "So where is Irenaeus's birthplace if it isn't here?" "What makes you think it isn't here?" the monk asked in a slightly hurt tone. "The fact that you won't give me a straight answer, for starters!" I exclaimed hotly. "If I told you this was the Birthplace, would you believe me?" "At this point, I'm not sure I would!" "Well then there's no point in me telling you then, is there?" the duck stated with an air of finality. "Can you tell me the story of Irenaeus' birth?" I sighed in exasperation. "Why did his parents end up having him here, wherever in Athstead the event actually took place?" "Legend has it that Waftvapr, the chief of the Balemist tribe, was traveling with his favorite wife, Obnoxia, on a vacation getaway to sunny Caer Adland, when she unexpectedly went into labor. They stopped in a shady glen beside a spring - there was no town of Athstead at the time - and there she gave birth to a boy child. A vision of Fuma appeared to the bewildered parents. The Lady told them that when the boy's fur began to grow, it would be white. They were to name him Irenaeus, and he was destined to be Fuma's champion, a mighty warrior who would unite all of Faerie under a single ruler, and a single religion. Waftvapr erected a standing stone to commemorate the event, and it became a pilgrimage destination. The village of Athstead grew up to serve the needs of the pilgrims." "So where is that spring and the standing stone?" I asked. "At the Birthplace," the monk explained. "Weren't you listening?" I got the dinstinct feeling that this line of questioning led nowhere, so I pulled out my tourist map & brochure. "May I see the famous Mephitist reliefs?" I asked, pointing to the place in the brochure where they were mentioned. "No." "Why not?" "They are in a windowless crypt, and tradition strictly forbids any light in that room," the monk explained. "But if you'd care to take hold of my cassock, I would be happy to lead you down there and let you feel them. Feeling the reliefs is said to be the highlight of the visit for many pilgrims." "No thanks, I think I'll pass," I sighed, suddenly feeling very tired of this shrine and this monk with his evasive answers and implausible stories. I trudged outside, not sure what to do next. 4Image: 0325howsweet "Thanks for not mentioning me to the Detective," the Ladybird said as she suddenly appeared, fluttering in front of my face. I hadn't even realized it, but thinking back ... I did somehow manage to omit the Ixie from my report. "I shall have to come up with some way to repay thee," she said, with a coquettish grin. ********************************************* Meanwhile 1Image: 0325hissyfit Jimmy the Bard rounded on a family of pilgrims from Caer Adland. The youngest was obviously a big fan of Irenaeus, judging by his bleached-white locks and Official Souvenir Jerkin. In a fog of blinding rage, the bard hissed furiously at the hapless youth and began to reach for his dagger. 2Image: 0325scuseme Before the bard could do anything irrevocable, he was interrupted by a gentle tap on his shoulder. "Pardon me, Mister Jay-John?" Glenholm Webb asked calmly. "Do you have a moment to answer a few questions about your bandit encounter?" *************************************************** 1Image: 0325gotcha "GAH!!" the Ixie remarked, as a pair of hands suddenly darted up and grabbed her. 2Image: 0325jewelbug "Oh my, oh my," the gray fox cackled. "What's this, what's this? Och, sure, tis a bonny wee jewel-bug! Hoodalolly, what a pretty little thing you are to be sure, to be sure! But OCH, me little one, did you not hear? Ladybird, ladybird ... fly away home, my dearie! For who's to say, who's to know, your wee housie may be afire yet, and your wee little buglings, your own kith and kin, all the babes and bairns and bugaboos, could this very minute be gone. Lost! Departed!" 3Image: 0325isthattrue "That - that's not true, is it?" the Ixie squeaked, visibly upset by the news. "Could be, my dearie, could be, and more's the pity if it is," the fox said, with a compassionate click of his tongue. He opened his hands, and the Ixie flitted away. 4Image: 0325howquaint "Probably doesn't even have kids," the fox chuckled. "That tale gets 'em every time. Alas, the confusion is only temporary. He'll be back, and in a bit of a pother too, so let's you and I speak freely while we may." "Who are you?" I asked, agog. "It matters little, says I, who I may be, but you may call me Uncle S," the fox grinned. "And you're the Fitz, to be sure. The second Adler, and, my oh my, never I saw him at such a tender age, but you're the very IMAGE of the Lacktail King, aren't you? Well, except for not lacking a tail of course, but fret not, me boyo, you've time yet. You've time." I resisted the urge to reach around and protectively grab my tail. ********************************************** "Is that a Mephitist pendant?" I asked, pointing at the medallion hanging around S's neck. "Are you some sort of priest or something?" 1Image: 0325ladysman "Och, a priest is it?" the fox mused. "Nothing so grand as that, Your Grace, oh no, oh no. But for the moment I am indeed the Lady's man. Always fond of Fuma, I was, and sure it is she's been kind to me. It's here to offer me assistance I am, you could say on the Lady's behalf." "Um, why did you refer to that Ladybird as a 'he'?" I asked, cautiously. "Proper grammar is proper," S declared in a didactic tone, "especially for one who does the Gramarye. When the gender of the referent is unknown or undetermined, then the pronoun is, by default, masculine." "But that Ixie was obviously female." "Hard to tell with that particular breed, boyo," S said with a serious look. "Tis best, and better than best, not to assume too much." "Wait a second," I insisted, as more of what the old fox said sank in. "Did you imply that you've actually met King Irenaeus?" "We weren't formally introduced," S admitted with a shrug, "but aye, it's Himself I've seen more than a few times, all white and royal and bloodthirsty, just as they say in the histories." "That's amazing!" I exclaimed. "I wouldn't have guessed you much older than 500. You're remarkably spry for your age, to be climbing on chapel ceilings and such. What's your secret?" 2Image: 0329twirl "Hoo hoo, me lad," S cackled, twirling his shillelagh. "Sure, and the best way to prevent aging is to stay young! Obvious really, if you think about it. You later generations are oft so fragile, but back in my day, an elf didn't die unless something killed him. Sure, and killin' an elf was a thing which took some doing, mark you me!!" "Wow," I murmured. "Where and when exactly were you born?" "Hard it is to pin down exact dates in the Long Ago," S mused, "but as far as my knowing goes, I was born in the East country near what's now known as Mossford." "You're not Vulpitanian?" "Och, no," S giggled. "It's oft they've tried to win me to their cause with baubles and bribes, but the mere fact of foxes merits no allegiance. I've nowise any interest anyhow! Staying out of politics, my boy, is one of the secrets to a long, uninterrupted life." "So what are you doing here?" "Why, it's helping you I am, lad, at Fuma's bidding!" S declared. "Did I not say that already?" "Well, what sort of help are you offering?" I asked. "Can you tell me anything about Irenaeus that the locals won't?" "You've observed, I trust, that the locals know little and tell less," S pointed out darkly. "Sure, and it's not from around here I am, but I daresay I can point you righter than they. What do you know so far?" "Not much, except that the Birthplace is supposed to be by a spring, marked with a standing stone." I pulled out my tourist map of Athstead. "There's no indication of such a place on the map," I explained, showing it to the fox. 3Image: 0329mapbah "Bah," S grumbled. "Tis worthless this is! A guide to all the town's frivolities & diversions. A hundred ways to spend your coin! Yet me old eyes see something worthy of remarking by dint of not seeing it here at all, at all. Either your cartographer doesn't know or chooses not to admit that the Athafon flows now in a new place, and the Aethstad of old stands otherwhere than the Athstead of new." "So you're saying that -" I began. My thoughts were interrupted by a feminine voice, not far away, yelling "ESTVAN!!" 4Image: 0329notagain Uncle S glanced over his shoulder with a look of annoyance. "Begorrah!" he snarled. "Mind you what I said about Vulpitania offering enticements? Yonder's one now; I know not whether they meant to lure me - sure and all, twas fun at first - or to plague me to distraction. Tis not for the life of me can I puzzle out how that simple-minded harridan tracks me down! Cover for me, will you, lad, and I'll see you again in a bit." ************************************************** Meanwhile After his interview with Detective Glenholm Webb, Jimmy the Bard decided to screw it all and get properly drunk. Image: 0325wronguy "Your Grace," Theronmyathus muttered, tapping Jimmy on the shoulder. "I'M NOT HIM!!" the bard hissed. *************************************************** 1Image: 0329oldepook Uncle S did Pooka Vanish right in front of me! The legendary spell that nobody knew how to do anymore!! I stood, astonished, staring at the spot where he had been - oblivious to the sound of footsteps running up behind me, until a voice said, "Pardon me sir, have you seen my hus-" 2Image: 0329hiswife "ADLER??" Yolanda yelped in surprise. "What are you doing here?" =============MISSING SECTION RECONSTRUCTION================= "I'm, uh, here on a pilgrimage," I replied, after gawking for a few seconds. "You lok nice. Is that a new dress?" 3Image: 0403ohyou "Oh Adler, you sweet talker," Yolanda giggled. "You need to watch it. I'm married now!" "Really," I asked. "How did that happen?" 4Image: 0403chatterbox I immediately regretted asking the question. "Oh it was marvelous," Yolanda began. "First I like went to Vulpitania and met my parents - I mean my real elf parents because of course I was a changeling raised by mortals, and it turns out they're like pretty high ranking elves in Vulpitania and I have an older sister who's a big-shot monocled SALV and then they said I had like a totally important part to play for the good of the Republic and my marriage to one of the most powerful elves living had been arranged and then I was like whisked off to his estate in the Eastern Marches near Mossford or something and everything was so green and pretty just like in a storybook and he lived in the cutest little cabin which was full of bugs which bothered me at first but it turns out they're actually pretty useful so anyway he's kind of old but he doesn't look it and he was also kind of grumpy at first and I was like oh no what have I gotten myself into but then he got this glint in his eye and let me tell you, my Pookybuns (that's what I call him) is no slouch in the venery department and boy oh boy can he do some magic, why there's some stuff I could tell you that you would totally not even believe -" ***************************************************** "When did all of this happen?" I interrupted. "I feel like it's only been a day since I saw you last." "I'm pretty sure it's been longer than that," Yolanda insisted. "They took me through a Gate, it was like instant travel from Persoc Tor to Vulpitania. Let me tell you, Vulpitania is a beautiful country, it's totally all mountainy and stuff although it's not prettier than the little meadow where Pooky and I live; Pooky is what I call Estvan, did I tell you that already? It's short for Pookybuns because he does this vanishing trick, and he has the cutest -" 1Image: 0403plushie "I GOT THIS FOR YOU," I croaked desperately, holding out the Irenaeus plushie in the hope that it would stop her from talking for a few seconds. "That's nice .." she said hesitantly. "Is it supposed to be you? Is that like, a normal thing for elves who are just friends to give each other?" "It's supposed to be baby Irenaeus," I explained. She gave me a blank look. "Irenaeus the Bloodthirsty," I continued. "The first High King of Faerie. He was supposedly born somewhere near here. They sell those dolls at the souvenir stands." "OH," she said, with dawning comprehension. "Where's his tail?" "He lost his tail in battle," I explained. "Sometimes he was referred to as the Lacktail King." "Yeah yeah, I know that, but why does this baby version of him have no tail?" That was actually a good question. I shrugged. "Well, thanks," Yolanda said, pocketing the plush doll. "Actually I'm looking for my husband. He's a gray fox, kinda short, wearing a ruffled collar and carrying a stick slightly taller than himself. I know he came this way. Did you see him?" 2Image: 0403thataway "I did, and the last I saw of him, he was disappearing off that way," I said, pointing vaguely toward the spot where "Uncle S" had vanished. "Thanks, Adler!" Yolanda called as she scurried away down the street. 3Image: 0403oweuone "It's many thanks I'm owin' ye, lad, for coverin' for me," Estvan murmured as soon as Yolanda was gone. "Sure and I've not a clue how the lass can follow me so closely. Tis uncanny! Not that I mind her company, mind you, but in small doses! I'm sure you understand, especially as it seems ye might be knowin' me wee wifey from some earlier context? Care to tell your Uncle Estvan the details?" He gave me an earnest but searching look of inquiry. 4Image: 0407icanexplain "Well, you see," I began, nervously. "I met her soon after she returned from the lowfolk world and she latched onto me because of some stew I had made for the changelings before the Ferifax festival.." "Oho, I'm likin' this already," Estvan chuckled. "Go on, me boyo. Continue. Tell me what ye know about her." ******************************************************* "Well, Yolanda seems a bit naive," I explained. "She doesn't know anything about being an elf. She has bizarre ideas she picked up among the lowfolk, and she thinks they are true! Oh, she also has a strange cursed eye. That might have something to do with her ability to track you. She was also seeing strange visions after a run-in with a ghost that was haunting a ham." "I know of the eye," Estvan muttered darkly. "The ham part of it is new to me though. Anything else?" "She seemed very intent on marrying nobility," I recalled. "She thought she was destined to be a princess or something." "Ah," Estvan remarked. "Tis a pity the poor lass may have been a wee bit misled on that point. Technically I think it's entitled to some sort of title I am, but I've never bothered to fill out the paperwork. We won't be tellin' her that little detail. What else?" "She's very nice, but if you'll pardon my saying so, she seems about as scatterbrained as Jane, the Lowfolk Femme," I stated, referring to a popular character in a series of entertaining picture-scrolls for Male Elves. 1Image: 0407sbrows "Hudalaleigh! Tis all true," Estvan acknowledged, "but she shares certain other traits with saucy Jane as well, eh?" "So, what brought a newlywed like yourself here to Athstead, away from your marital bliss?" I asked. "BLISS!" Estvan barked. "Sure and that honeymoon only lasted an hour. When the Gazers of Fuma's musk came to me with a request from the Lady herself, it's only too happy I was for the opportunity to escape me wife's incessant prattle." "Gazers of Fuma's Musk?" I asked. "Aye, they are monks who watch the heavens - especially the cloudy streak across the night sky which they call Fuma's Musk - for signs and portents they watch, and it seems they saw a most portentious one which obliged me to come find you and offer me assistance." "Assistance in what way?" I asked cautiously. "With what?" "With whatever ye might be needin' I suppose," Estvan shrugged. "Sure and it's a Quest you're on, aren't you?" My mind reeled with the possibilities. This elf was ancient and powerful! Well .. I assumed he was powerful. Anybody who could do Pooka Vanish had to be pretty far up there in terms of magickal ability. Maybe he would teach me! "Och, if it's standin' here and doin' nothin' you're after, then I'll help with that as well, though it's not what I had hoped for at all, at all," Estvan commented after a few long seconds. "I guess the first thing is the Quest, since that's what the monks sent you out for," I decided. "So, can you help me find the birthplace of Irenaeus?" "Let's have a look at your map again," Estvan suggested. 2Image: 0410requirecunning "Now then, if you'll notice," he continued, unfolding the map and pointing at sections, "the streets in this area here bear such names as Spring Lane and Stone Alley yet there is no spring or stone marked anywhere. Notice also how the streets here do not line up properly with the streets on the other side of this line, and the boundary of the township lies strangely in empty territory beyond the far river bank. Tis known by me, and perhaps by few others, that the river Athafon changed its course in the last years of Carl the Adequate. This map shows where the Birthplace isn't. To find where it is we may have to get wet. Sure and it will require all our cunning, as well as a bit o' magick." "Will you teach me?" I asked, excitedly. "Sure and I will lad," Estvan cackled. "But mind you -" 3Image: 0410sneaktickle Estvan suddenly leaped into the air and emitted a loud exclamation as Yolanda crept up behind him and tickled his ribs. "There you are, Pookybuns!" the vixen squealed. Estvan Pooka Vanished away. "Hey," I retorted. "We were kind of in the middle of something important." 4Image: 0410hellbeback "Oh don't worry," Yolanda sniffed. "He'll be back. My Pooky likes to pretend I annoy him, but he's really crazy about me." "Pardon me, Your Grace," Cadet Theronmyathus croaked as he tapped me on the shoulder. ============MISSING SECTION ENDS================ ********************************************************** "Yes, Cadet, what is it?" I asked. "I'm afraid I haven't got any stew, if that's what you're after." 1Image: 0414grump "You asked me to come find you when my duty shift ended, Your Grace," Theronmyathus reminded me in his raspy voice. "At first I looked in the tavern and was surprised when the person who looked like you wasn't you after all. I was momentarily worried that I had misjudged you, however it is with some sense of vindication I find you here on the street, consorting with Loose Women. I'm afraid I don't understand your reference to stew, and am not sure I want it elucidated." "I'm not loose," Yolanda pouted. "I'm married now." "To His Grace the Duke?" Theronmyathus asked. "No," Yolanda admitted. Theronmyathus scowled at both of us. "Adler made the really good stew we ate while we were in the changeling quarantine thingy," Yolanda informed him. "Ah. That explains the cryptic remark then," Theronmyathus said, bowing slightly. "In that case I owe you some thanks, Your Grace." 2Image: 0414wereateam "All right!" Yolanda declared, enthusiastically grabbing Theronmyathus and me around the shoulders and pulling us close. "Now that we're all getting along, let's team up and OWN this town! Yeah! Cadet Theron and Duke Adler and the beauteous Lady Yolanda Silverbrush - the legendary trio, out to accomplish whatever it is that brought Adler and my Pookie here in the first place! And if we can make my husband jealous along the way, so much the better!" I was about to raise several objections to this plan, when I was interrupted by an angry buzzing very close to my head. 3Image: 0414rottenelf "That rotten elf tricked me!" the Ixie complained. "I thought thy people had rules against lying!" "We do," I explained. "But he didn't actually say that your house was on fire and your children all gone. He merely suggested that it might be possible." "Still it was a dishonest ruse!" the Ixie declared. "Where is that odious old codger now? I'd like to give him a piece of my mind!" "I'm not sure where he is at the moment," I said. 4Image: 0414floozy "EEEEE!" Yolanda squealed. "What an adorable little ladybug-person!! How cute! Is it a fairy, or a pixie, or what?" "Art thou an elf or a changeling or simply an idiot?" the Ixie retorted. ************************************************ "Well excuuuse me," Yolanda protested. "I do happen to be a changeling and I'm new at all of this so pardon me if I don't know how to address a talking bug." "Nice bangs, floozy," the Ixie sneered. "What art thou, a cyclops?" 1Image: 0418windything With a wave of her arms, the Ixie did some sort of windy thing, causing Yolanda's hair to blow wildly. "Hey, watch out!" Yolanda yelped. "You'll expose my Eye ..." 2Image: 0418pantsed Suddenly, somehow, part of the Ixie's shell came loose and fell down around her ankles. "THOU EVIL BITCH!!!" the Ixie screamed, waving her arms wildly (except for one arm which she used to pull her shell back into place.) "I didn't mean to do that!" Yolanda wailed. "It's the Eye! You uncovered my Cursed Eye!" 3Image: 0418sneakout It looked like a magickal fracas was about to ensue, so I gestured quietly to Theronmyathus and the two of us made a stealthy exit from the scene. Just in the nick of time, too - I heard a muffled implosion and a chorus of alarmed yelling behind us as we rounded the corner into an alley down the street from the conflict. 4Image: 0418isitsafe "Och, is it safe?" Estvan asked from his hiding place atop a shed. "Is the wee wifey distracted?" "She got in a fight with the Ixie," I explained. "I have no idea what they're doing to each other, but it sounded mildly serious." "Then it's a debt of thanks I'm owing that Ladybird," Estvan said as he leapt nimbly from the roof. "I almost regret chasing him away at first." "Him?" Theronmyathus asked. "And who's this dignified gent?" Estvan asked, looking Theronmyathus up and down. "This is another one of the changelings," I explained. "Patrol Cadet Theron ... There ... um ..." "Theronmyathus," the eagle stated with a slight bow to Estvan. "Ah good," the fox blurted abruptly. "Sure, and we've probably little time before my beloved extricates herself from whatever her predicament, so let's to the river, eh?" **************************************************** We proceeded in order down the alley, with me in front, Estvan behind me, and Theronmyathus bringing up the rear. 1Image: 0418watchhim "Keep your eye on yon birdbrain, Your Grace," Estvan whispered to me with Elfmind. "I've an ill premonition about that one." 2Image: 0421nofaces "What can you teach me about using Elfmind?" I thought back at Estvan. "Don't think so loud," the fox replied. "And avoid making strange Facial Contortions of Overt Concentration." "Hmm?" Theronmyathus asked. "Did you say something, Your Grace?" "No, er, just thinking," I nimbly evaded. "Speaking of thinking," Estvan mused, "it occurs to me that me wife's ham-seeing Eye might combine rather badly with that Ladybird's primitive Magick." "Should we go back and check on them?" I asked. "No," he replied, after a moment's consideration. 3Image: 0421riverside A few minutes later we emerged behind a row of buildings onto the riverbank. Some elves - presumably otters - were gathered in the water. One of them had a megaphone, and was exhorting the others to line up and prepare for Form C Frolic on the count of four. "This river is wider and more impressive than I expected," I remarked. "Aye, but it's lazy, shallow, and slow," Estvan pointed out. "Isn't that Sir Ravenmad over there?" Theronmyathus asked, pointing his beak at a black-garbed figure seated on a driftwood log behind some rushes to our right. "How do you know Sir Ravenmad?" I asked. "Who doesn't know Sir Ravenmad?" Theronyathus croaked back. "He's the author of one of my favorite books, _Merit of Valor_!" "I know him as well, lad," Estvan muttered grimly, "and if a fabulist were to be properly considered a liar, he would be out on his befeathered rump in the low-lands." "Sir Ravenmad!" I exclaimed as I waded toward him through the rushes. "What are you doing out here?" 4Image: 0425raven "Your Grace! What a surprise this is!" Ravenmad exclaimed with apparent delight. "On occasion, when I tire of the intrigues of court and the frivolity of the Winter Capital, I like to retreat here to this pleasant resort and watch the local Frolic team cavort in this lazy bend of the majestic Athafon. I also come to admire the architecture, of course. The doors here in Athstead are built to withstand lots of traffic from pilgrims and visitors. Just imagine, Your Grace: They get opened and closed hundreds of times a day, by complete strangers." Before I could respond to this, Theronmyathus stumbled through the reeds, clutching a book in his wing. "Sir Ravenmad, could you sign my copy of _Merit of Honor_?" he squawked. "I've read it several times and I carry it with me everywhere. I'm a big fan of your work." "Lucian the Libeller," Estvan growled as he pushed his way through the reeds. "I'd have a word with you here and now, me lad, about properly respecting your elders and betters - specifically as regards a certain character in your opus _The Mad Fox of the Eastern Marches_." "I never claimed he was based on you," Ravenmad stammered, a bit nervously. ***************************************************** Sir Ravenmad was about to say something else, when the Frolic coach yelled "ONE TWO THREE!" and the Frolics began. 1Image: 0425whatasight Everyone stood still and watched speechlessly - except for Theronmyathus, who covered his eyes and squawked "Great Auk!" "WAIT, HOLD IT," the Frolic leader called out. "WE'VE GOT UNKNOWN SPECTATORS." All the otters stopped Frolicking and turned to look at our group clustered on the riverbank. 2Image: 0425froliclub "Come on, Ravenmad, I thought you understood the rules," the leader protested. "You can't invite your friends to watch us unless they've paid the non-member fees and taken the oath. The oath which you are breaking RIGHT NOW, I might add." "I have done no such thing," Ravenmad declared. "These acquaintances of mine have arrived unbidden on completely unrelated business. (What is your business here, anyway?)" he continued, in an aside to me. "I'm on a Quest to find the Birthplace of Irenaeus Lacktail," I explained. "Isn't there a Shrine for that in town?" Ravenmad asked, seemingly perplexed. "I mean the Real Birthplace," I insisted. "Oho, then some of my suspicions are confirmed," Ravenmad chortled. "The old tale of the long-lost stone beside the spring, eh?" "Yes, exactly, and we think it might be at the bottom of the river, because the Athafon has changed course since Irenaeus' day. Hey," I yelled across the water at the otters. "Do you regularly do your Frolics in this part of the river?" "The first rule of Frolic Club," the leader yelled back, "is Do Not Talk About Frolic Club!" 3Image: 0425voucher "You're looking for the ruins, right?" one of the otters called out. "Old Aethstad? It's not here, but there's a deep part further upstream where there's a lot of buildings on the bottom, half-buried in mud. Sometimes we dive there and swim through the open doorways and stuff." "I need to see that!!" I exclaimed, excitedly. "Oh, Your Grace, so do I!" Ravenmad sighed, with a knowing wink. "Well, thanks for the information," I called out. "Upstream, you say?" I was feeling excited to finally have a solid lead based on something other than mere rumors and traditions. I was tempted to jump right into the river (skunk elves being naturally quite good at holding their breath) but Estvan no doubt had a more elegant method in mind. "Wait, noble Skunk!" the helpful otter yelled as he floundered up out of the water. "You won't be able to see the ruins from shore. You're unlikely to find them without a guide. Pray, let me place myself at your disposal..." 4Image: 0501inswiminator The otter struck a pose and declared: "You may call me RIVERMASTER IZZY THE INSWIMINATOR!" **************************************************** "That has a much better ring to it than Bertrand Kersploosh, don't you think?" the otter giggled after a brief pause. "May I assume from your glorious white pelt and your interest in the sunken ruins that you too are an Irenaeus enthusiast?" "Actually I'm one of his descendants," I admitted, "and I've been given a Personal Quest to find his Birthplace." "OH WOOOWWW," Izzy gushed. "That is SO awesome! Hey, check out my tail; it's just like the one Irenaeus wore after his .. accident." 1Image: 0501seemytail The otter turned around and wiggled his rump, showing off a wet & bedraggled false white skunk tail rather artlessly clipped to his own real tail. "It's not as impressive as yours, of course," Izzy fawned. "But you know .. it's the thought that counts." 2Image: 0501mmkay "Yeah, I guess so," I replied, bemused. "So how deep underwater are these ruins?" "Oh, it's a pretty advanced dive," Izzy explained. "Generally you would have to have trained and passed some of the higher level Frolics before you could go there." "Tell me more about this Frolic Club," I requested. "Ooh, I really can't," Izzy said, biting his lip regretfully. "The first rule is not to talk about it. The only way to find out more is to join, and take the oath. I can tell you though, that if it's your first time at Frolic Club, you have to Frolic." "Isn't swearing oaths against general Elfish policy?" I inquired. "Oh yes - but there's no LAW against it. In this case it's just a binding oath of secrecy about the Club, which is totally appropriate and not at all a violation of the spirit of Thorwald's edicts." While I was engaged in conversation with this Otter elf and nothing important seemed to be happening, Estvan took the opportunity to continue pursuing his grievance against Sir Ravenmad. "Sure, and If the Mad Fox wasn't supposed to be me, then unriddle why his name was Stebbin Pulverschloss," the elderly tod demanded. "Is that your name?" Ravenmad responded. "No." "Well then, it seems a mere solipsistic suspicion on your part, to assume that my creation was somehow based on you." "Whisht! Deny not that the name bears a certain parodic euphony relative to me own. Sure, and tis no suspicion that you've described him wearing the same things I wear, living in my exact house, and doing many things for which I am uniquely known," Estvan accused. "Pardon me, could you sign my book?" Theronmyathus asked quietly in the background. "Assuming he was meant to be you," Ravenmad continued, utterly ignoring the eagle Cadet. "If the portrayal is accurate, then what's your complaint?" "Sure, and you gave him a fondness for limericks, and raspberry jam, neither of which can I stand at all, at all," Estvan lamented. 3Image: 0501bookbegone "Well there you go," Ravenmad declared with a sweeping gesture, knocking Theronmyathus' book out of his hand and into the river. "That just proves Stebbin isn't you. Your paranoia, sir, is grossly unfounded." 4Image: 0501angrytheron Theronmyathus fumed silently for a few seconds and then muttered, "Pardon me, I need to be excused for a moment." The Cadet waded sternly through the reeds, up the riverbank and out of sight over a rise toward the town. "Must've needed to take a leak," Izzy theorized. "Oh dear, I think I knocked his book into the water," Ravenmad observed, pointing to the soggy tome floating in the shallows. "Remind me to give him a fresh copy. I've got a trunk full of them in my room at the Royal Crib Inn." *********************************************** INFO BREAK! Thorwald the Cautious, great-grandson of Irenaeus Lacktail, was the fourth High King of Faerie. He was obsessed with properly maintaining the empire which his progenitors had built, and it was he who codified into law the ancient Elfish tradition of truth-telling. There has oft been confusion on this point, so let me reiterate: Truth-telling was already an Elfish custom before Thorwald officially made it the law of the Empire. He also established the Office of Definitive Veracity, with its spy networks and scrying towers, in order to be assured of the absolute truth and accuracy of all information. "Thorwald's Edicts" are basically a set of rules against fibbing, falsehood, and prevarication. They also set a standard of weights and measures for commerce, and established the purity of Imperial currency. **************************************************** Estvan was about to make a withering remark, when suddenly a small voice was wafted on the breeze, calling out "POOKYBUNS..." 1Image: 0501nervouss "Fuma preserve us!" Estvan yelped, cringing and glancing nervously about. "She's found me out yet again! Where is the lass?" 2Image: 0501yolixie "Here I am, sweetie!" the Yolixie chirped from her perch atop Estvan's shillelagh. "Look at what Elf Magic can do! Aren't I just the cutest, most adorable thing you've ever seen?" "Cushlamochree!" Estvan wailed. "Now she can FLY!?!??" 3Image: 0501mmkay Words failed me. I pinched myself to make sure I wasn't dreaming. I stared agog at the tiny vixen/insectoid as tumultuous questions percolated in my mind. Was it possible, by magick, for an elf to completely alter his or her form? "How adorable!" Izzy squealed with delight. "May I pet her?" "That privilege is reserved for my husband, sir," the Yolixie declared sternly. Estvan howled in dismay and attempted to perform Pooka Vanish. 4Image: 0507nopook4u "No pooking away this time, Pooky," the Yolixie said with a wave of her tiny hand. "You and I have things to discuss." Estvan stood dumbfounded for a moment, realizing that he had not Pooka Vanished after all. **************************************************** 1Image: 0507flyufool With an inarticulate yell of panic, Estvan dropped his shillelagh and fled through the reeds, flailing his arms wildly. "Wait, sweetums, come back!" the Yolixie called as she flew after him. 2Image: 0507stopher "STOP THEM!" the Ixanda yelled as she lumbered through the weeds along the riverbank, clutching her limp, velvety elytra about herself. Nobody did anything. We all stared at her in astonishment as Estvan's cries of horror faded into the distance. "Okay, don't," the Ixanda snarled. "I guess I'll just stay this way forever then. Thanks SO MUCH for the help, thou jerks." "What happened to you?" I finally managed to utter. 3Image: 0507taleofwoe "I'm not sure," the Ixanda sniffled angrily. "There was some sort of magickal explosion, and when the sparkles cleared, she was small and I was enormous. She got the exoskeleton, and I ... My shell, my beautiful shell is now a useless cape! My shiny, sexy carapace is gone and I am now disgustingly soft and squishy ... and covered with FUZZ." She paused for a moment as a new thought occurred to her. "Hold on a second," she continued, with an unwholesome glint in her eye. "Thou likest them big and squishy and fuzzy, dost thou not? Let us not squander this opportunity, My Grace." With that, she glommed onto me with all four arms and started snuggling me. 4Image: 0507askraven HA! I was far too proficient at Wiles to fall for such a crude tactic. I stalwartly ignored the interesting curves being rubbed against me, and turned to Sir Ravenmad to inquire: "So what was it like when you joined the Frolic Club? Didn't your feathery costume get soaked?" "My dear young elf, I do not Frolic," Ravenmad elucidated. "I am sworn to the same Oath of Confidentiality that Club members take, but I am NOT a full member of the Club. I am instead a dues-paying spectator. Now then, it appears that you and your friend require a bit of privacy, so I'll just toddle off to the inn and see if I can't find a fresh copy of _Merit of Valor_ for that nice young Cadet." "What's this all about?" Izzy asked with visible annoyance as he scowled at the Ixanda. "I thought we were going to check out the sunken ruins. I had a Riverbank Exploring Song ready to go and everything! Are you ditching that plan now, to make out with this creature instead?" "No, I am here to find Irenaeus' Birthplace," I explained, as I tried (and failed) to get an arm free from the Ixanda's insistent embrace. "But how can I, as a non-Frolicker and an inexperienced diver, get underwater to view the ruins?" ***************************************************** 1Image: 0507gotcha Before Izzy could answer, I heard Estvan's voice shouting "HUDALALEIGH!" as he came striding victoriously over the nearest rise. He was accompanied by Cadet Theronmyathus looking grumpy as ever, and the Master of Elfhame (what was he doing here??) mysteriously clutching a cloudy translucent sphere. "Never underestimate Elvish cunning, me lads!" the fox cackled as he held up a large glass jar. "Oh Pooky, you're so mean," the Yolixie whined from inside the jar. "We've got to get closer to those ruins," Theronmyathus croaked. "It looks like there's all KINDS of Building Code violations down there." I tried once again to break free, but the Ixanda was surprisingly strong. No matter how I squirmed and wriggled, I could not seem to extricate myself from her amorous clutches. 2Image: 0512ruhroh As the Ixanda continued murmuring seductively and nibbling on my ear, I felt something very suspicious poke against my hip. And suddenly I seemed to find the strength to break her hold and twist away from her grasp as I shrieked: "I'M FLATTERED BY YOUR ATTENTION, FELLA, BUT I DON'T SWING THAT WAY!!!" 3Image: 0512imagirl "I'm a girl, thou jerk!" she screeched indignantly. "That's just my ovipositor! Thou squishies art so narrow-minded!" 4Image: 0512sorrymaam "It's an apology I'm owing you then, lass," Estvan remarked drily. He turned to me and said, "castin' aside for the moment your horrible manners toward a lady, do you not realize, me lad, that you just Pooked away from that monstrosity to cower among us over here?" "I did?" I asked, scarcely able to believe it. "Aye," Estvan confirmed. "Tis a classic example of Magick Under Duress. Sure and you've a natural Talent, lad, no mistake. Probably you could turn into a fish if I held you underwater long enough." The Master of Elfhame said nothing as he bent down and picked up Estvan's shillelagh where it was lying in the weeds. ************************************************** "Hey," Izzy piped up. "How many of you lot are going to the ruins? I thought it was just going to be me and the descendant of Irenaeus. Too many strangers down there might get me in trouble." 1Image: 0512lookafterher "No need for the ladies to go at all, at all," Estvan declared, "and since you're here, Westersloe me boyo, you can just look after her for me." He handed the Yolixie jar to the Master of Elfhame, who gave him his shillelagh. "Does that lid have air holes in it?" I asked anxiously. "Of course it does," Estvan retorted. "Sure and I know how to keep an insect. Is it a monster you take me for?" He turned back to the Master of Elfhame and continued, "while you've got them you could try to sort out this mess they've made. Wise enough it might be to find a large jar first for the other one .." "Nobody puts a member of the Ominous Orse in a jar!" the Ixanda declared sternly. "Anyhow, don't let me wife seduce you, lad," Estvan advised the Master of Elfhame. "Or, if she does, at least do me the courtesy of running away together." "What about you?" I asked Theronmyathus. "I'd like to inspect those ruins," the Cadet said with a glare at Estvan, "but it looks like the Master of Elfhame will probably need my help here. Where's Sir Ravenmad, by the way?" "He went back to the inn to fetch a new copy of his book, to replace the one he accidentally knocked into the water," I explained. 2Image: 0414grump Theronmyathus' expression brightened considerably. "Well that's awfully decent of him," the eagle croaked happily. "Gives me two reasons to stay here." "Hold on," I said, suddenly thinking of something. "Do you remember, when you were sequestered with the other changelings, was there a very young raccoon child?" "Yes, there was." "What do you know about her?" I asked. "Why were they bringing back a changeling so young?" "I don't know her story," Theronmyathus confessed. "She was actually a bit annoying, wanting to play games all the time, and eating more than her share of stew." "So .. come on .. how many of you are going?" Izzy asked impatiently. "Just the Duke and I," Estvan declared. "Lead on, me bucko, to the sunken ruins." With a twitch and an excited giggle, Izzy turned and started marching up the river bank. Estvan followed him, and I trailed along just behind Estvan. The otter started to sing, slightly off-key, to a tune which I could almost identify: "By elves tis said, in old Athstead Our High King was a baby. Here he was born one far-off morn. We'll find his Birthplace, maybe. Our legends tell of what befell. I'm singing now about one: He did not quail to lose his tail, Yet still he ruled without one. You can't debate that Skunk was great, Bloodthirsty as he conquered. Each crimson stain impressed his brain And drove him fairly bonkers." 3Image: 0512caterwaul "Would it trouble you terribly, Your Grace, if I turned this clod into a spider or a slug?" Estvan asked me with Elfmind. "Something quiet, at least?" "Can you really do that?" I replied, doing my best to stifle a chuckle. "Do you like the song?" Izzy asked. "I made it up myself." "It's quite original," I stated. "There's more," Izzy grinned. He turned and belted out another few verses: "He trod in wrath Great Fuma's path As, massacring and raving, He put an end to pagan sin. Their lost souls he was saving. His power grew; heathens he slew Although they begged and simpered. They found it best to acquiesce, Acclaiming him as Emperor." "We're here!" the otter declared, pointing out at the river. "Thank Fuma," Estvan sighed. "I guess you'll want to take off your clothes and fold them neatly here," Izzy suggested hopefully. "There'll be no need for that at all, at all," Estvan explained. "I've more than a bit of magick. Now then, young Dukeling, think hard about what you'd need to be to best function underwater." Without warning he shoved me into the river. There was a loud splash and a flurry of bubbles. 4Image: 0512imafish When the water cleared, I wanted to exclaim "HER WHISKERS!!! I'M A FISH!" but my mouth opened and closed silently. "Fish can't speak aloud, lad," the Estvan-fish explained via Elfmind. "How is this done?" I thought back at him. "Did I do it? Did you? I need to learn how control this!" "All in good time, me boyo, all in good time," Estvan mentally chuckled. "For now, it's a quest you're meant to be on, isn't it?" **************************************************** 1Image: 0512downthere Izzy dove into the water near me, and pointed to some weed-covered buildings looming up from the river bottom. 2Image: 0519whee "Wheeee!!" I thought, as I swam around in quick little loops. "This is amazing!" "Sure, and fish don't go 'wheeee,' Your Grace, at all, at all," Estvan replied. "Tis only fair I be warnin' you that if you start to sing I'll be forced, I will, to take action best described as STERN." I was not sure how to sing _mentally_, so I found it quite easy to resist the temptation to try. 3Image: 0519izzyscheming Izzy had a thoughtful expression on his face for a moment, then he returned to the surface for air. "Why not turn him into a fish too?" I asked. "Take a guess," Estvan quipped. "Now come on; we've a Birthplace to find." 4Image: 0519spookyruins "What should I be looking for?" I asked. "Do you know anything about this place?" "Sure, it's never I visited Aethstad before it was underwater," Estvan replied. "The tales tell of a spring and a standing stone, so I'm guessing we'd best look out for something springish or menhir-y." The ruins were somewhat disappointing. I wasn't sure what I was expecting, but these tumbled walls half-buried in mud and streamers of river weed failed to impress me. Perhaps to an antiquary or a historian, this rubble would have had fascinating stories to tell - but I preferred seeing fantastic lost palaces, or a dungeon full of diabolical traps... I peered through the muck and shadows of the deep water as we swim along against the current, but I didn't see anything that matched the description of Irenaeus' legendary Birthplace. **************************************************** 1Image: 0519deepeye "Did it suddenly get quieter?" I asked. "Tis always quiet underwater, lad," Estvan answered with a dismissive wave of his fin. 2Image: 0524irthplacebay A few minutes later, we happened upon a stone bearing an old, riverworn inscription. "Is that Old Elvish?" I asked. "Aye, I think it might be," Estvan replied thoughtfully. I had studied a small bit of Old Elvish. Not enough to read it, of course, but perhaps enough to make a good impression on Estvan. I carefully sounded out the letters in my head. "IRTHPLACEBAY. What does it mean?" I asked. "I'm not familiar with that one," Estvan admitted. "It must be from a rare provincial dialect." "There's an arrow carved there. Perhaps it signifies an archery range?" "The Elves of Old often used an arrow to symbolically indicate direction, they did. Sure, and I'm guessing that this 'IRTHPLACEBAY' whatever it may be, is back in the direction we came. And if it was important enough to mark with a sign, it may indeed have aught to do with your Quest." We turned around and drifted with the current back over the ground we had just covered. 3Image: 0524danger "I'm feeling a definite presentiment of danger," I observed. "As am I," Estvan concurred. "Does it have anything to do at all, at all with that large mound which I'm certain wasn't there before?" "That, and the fact that said mound appears to be observing us," I elucidated. 4Image: 0524chase "Quickly, Your Grace!" Estvan exclaimed as the enormous bottom-dwelling monster advanced, opening its mouth in a most unfriendly manner. "Swim into that small hole down there next to that toppled-over menhir! Sure and he won't be able to follow us in there!" "That's got to be it!" I exclaimed as I swam for my life. "The spring beside the standing stone! We missed it earlier because this beast was on top of it!" I darted into the hole in the nick of time, as the monster gnashed its teeth just outside. It was pitch black in here. "If this be Irenaeus' birthplace, then it's hoping I am that it doesn't become our deathplace," Estvan muttered. ********************************************** 1Image: 0524cave With a flip of his fin and a quick mental command, Estvan made the tip of his shillelagh glow. "Well now, seein' as we can't go back unless it's eaten we want to be," he continued, "we might as well go forward and see where this passage leads." 2Image: 0524door "Well glory be!" Estvan exclaimed. "Either this is new, or it's been very well maintained." "What's a door doing down here?" I asked, bewildered. "Same thing a door does anywhere else, I imagine," Estvan quipped as he rapped on the door with his stick. 3Image: 0524glubglub The door opened, and a Mer-elf regarded us incredulously. "Hello," I thought at him. "As I live and respirate!" he burbled. "Talking fish! And one of them's carrying a shillelagh! Hey Ethel, you've gotta come see this." "I'm right in the middle of making pies!" a voice bubbled from somewhere behind the Mer-elf. "Ask them what they want!" "What do you talking fish want?" the Mer-elf asked. 4Image: 0530elveswebe "Well, first of all, it's not really talking fish we are at all, at all," Estvan explained, as he transformed into a Mer-elf version of himself. "We're Elves! And good Mephitists to boot!" "You look a lot like somebody I used to know," the Mer-elf speculated. "Sure, and I think I would remember you, were that the case," Estvan replied. ********************************************** "So, is your friend a fish then?" the Mer-elf asked. "Come on in and have a seat! This ought to be interesting. I've never heard of a Mephitist missionary fish." "No, no, he's an elf too. Just give us a moment, will you?" 1Image: 0530thinkabout "Come on, boyo, what's the holdup?" Estvan thought at me. "If there are Mer-elves, why didn't we just turn into one of those to begin with?" I inquired. "Difficult it is, if not truly impossible, to transmogrify into a thing you've never seen. Always I've thought Merfolk were a bit of make-believe." "So how do I turn myself into one?" I asked. "Same way you became a fish, me lad. Look closely at him and imagine what it would feel like to be that way your own self. I'll give you a wee little magickal nudge to help you get started, but you've - " 2Image: 0530meradler With a slight "BLOOP" of bubbles, I became a Mer-elf version of myself. "Keep practicing, lad," Estvan muttered reassuringly. "You'll get better at it over time." "Well, Fred, what do the fish want?" the voice called from the back. "They're actually Elves, dear," Fred called back. "One of them, I think, is from the dry lands. They're Mephitist missionaries!" "How nice!" Ethel responded. "Tell them to stay and have some pie! These will be ready in about half an hour." 3Image: 0530wordofcaution "Word of caution," Fred muttered quietly. "Avoid the pies. They're poisonous." "Unseelie wife, eh?" Estvan asked knowingly. "Yes, but don't hold it against her. She's really a swell Mer-lady." "Sure I am that she is, but I must disabuse you of the idea that we're missionaries. We've come, well, perhaps I should let the Duke explain it." "Duke?" Fred asked with a start. "I'm the King's bastard son, younger brother to the Crown Prince," I explained. "Nice to know young Otho has started a family," Fred bubbled approvingly. "Though I guess he's got to be getting on in years now, hasn't he?" "Otho the Negligent died quite some time ago," Estvan explained. "This lad is his great-great grandson." "King Otho is DEAD??" Fred exclaimed with evident shock. "They call him 'the Negligent?' Well, I guess that makes sense, considering we never saw nor heard from him again after he granted us the charter. I need to sit down and take all this in. Do you mind, Your Grace, if I occupy the Fancy Chair? I ask only because you're sort of nobility I guess, and it's a throne of some kind left over from when Aethstad was a dry-land place." "It's your house," I acquiesced. Nobody had ever treated me like Nobility before! It was kind of nice, but I didn't really know how to respond to it. "I'll hang back and let you do the talking, Your Grace," Estvan whispered via Elfmind. 4Image: 0530converse "So, what exactly brings you folks down here to old Aethstad?" Fred asked once he was comfortable. "My great-uncle Prince Roland, Grand Marshal of Faerie ..." I started to explain. "Wait a second, WHO?" Fred asked. "Oh, um ... hmmm ... if Otho is the last High King you remember, let me think; his son was Sartorius the Dissolute ..." I rambled as I tried to recall details of Imperial history. "He sounds like fun," Fred remarked, bubbling contentedly on his pipe. "By all accounts he was, but he neglected the Empire's business almost as much as his father did. Sartorius' firstborn ran contrary to his sire's example and was known as Adler the Prudent. His younger brother, still acting as Grand Marshal, is Roland the Fat." "Inherited a bit of his old man's appetites, eh?" Fred chuckled. "I suppose so. Adler had but one son, our current king Gawain -" "Who is popularly known as Gawain the Quiet," Estvan interjected. "Really? People are calling him that?" I mused. "Well, in any case, Gawain has one legitimate son: My brother, Prince Estmere. I am his second son, begotten on a palace servant. My name is Adler." "You'd be the Duke Fitzgawain, then," Fred surmised. "Same name in the Imperial line with but a single generation between? That's got to be a bit confusing." "Not really. But to come to the point: My uncle, the Marshal, has sent me to find Irenaeus Lacktail's birthplace." "Oh, of course. You're pilgrims then. That makes sense. I should have guessed from the shirt. Well, the Birthplace is right out back," Fred cheerily admitted. "I can show it to you anytime you're ready." "The thought crosses my mind that Uncle Roland may have sent me here with the true purpose of meeting you," I theorized. "What's your connection to this place? You mentioned a charter?" "Well, as you know, this used to be Dry-land, but the Athafon changed course," Fred explained. "We had been squatters here for some time after that event, while petitioning for official recognition of our rights to occupy the ruins. Eventually Otho granted us a charter as a Sunken City, granting us privileges of full legal tenancy while bestowing on us the responsibility of maintaining and operating the sacred Irenaeid pilgrimage site." "Nobody in Athstead seems to know about this," I pointed out. "At least, nobody will admit it. I asked about the exact location of the Birthplace and all I got was a bunch of evasive answers." "That might explain why we haven't seen any pilgrims in such a long time," Fred hypothesized. ****************************************** "Well, if you wouldn't mind showing us the Birthplace of Irenaeus," I hinted after we had rested quietly on Fred's couch for a bit. "That is, after all, the reason we came here." "Okey-dokey," Fred assented, getting up from his chair. "Just follow me." 1Image: 0605ealaethel I exclaimed loudly in surprise as a bizarre tentacled creature lunged out of a doorway, brandishing a large knife and a pie. "Good gracious! Not leaving so soon, are you?" the thing inquired. "The pies are just coming out of the oven!" "Now's not the best time, honey," Fred grumbled. "Now Fred," Ethel insisted. "These good folks must have traveled a long way to get here, and it's not going to kill them to wait a few more minutes and try a slice of my delicious homemade pie, which just might kill them and send them right to their precious skunky slut-goddess." "They're not really missionaries, sweetie," Fred explained. "I jumped to a wrong conclusion." "But they are Mephitists," Ethel pointed out. "And that menhir out back is a monument to the proselytizing nature of their imperialist religion. I insist, gentlemen, that you stay and try a slice of my pie. It's delicious! I'm sure you'll be pleased to death with it." I whispered a bit of Gramerye over the pie, reminding it to be non-poisonous, as Ethel served two generous slices to Estvan and myself. 2Image: 0605yummypie I poked my slice nervously with my fork, but Estvan picked his up and greedily devoured it. "Begorrah, ma'am!" the old fox exclaimed. "Twas delicious! It's many a long year now since I've had a good chokeweed pie. Might there be any chance of me gettin' another slice, perchance?" "If you're good, maybe," Ethel chuckled with delight, "and still alive when you come back from visiting the Birthplace. What about you, young fella? How do you like the pie?" "It's surprisingly tasty," I admitted, after swallowing a forkful. "Rich, and yet sort of tangy." "Well, eat up! Fuma loves a hearty appetite doesn't she?" Ethel encouraged cheerfully. Under her breath (but still quite audibly) she added, "celestial strumpet that she is..." 3Image: 0605merhuh This irreverent talk of Fuma inevitably made me think of fertility and breeding, and I couldn't help but wonder how these mer-folk procreated. Not that I really needed (or wanted) to know, but my curiosity could not be denied. Of course there was no tactful way to ask them ... and besides, I had to assume, since Fred and Ethel were obviously different breeds of Mer-Elf, theirs must have been a childless union anyway. 4Image: 0605finnia Suddenly a pretty Mer-girl leaned around a corner and exclaimed: "MOM!! Are you trying to murder guests again?" "Just sharing some pie with our distinguished visitors," Ethel proclaimed innocently. "It's high time they tasted death. Though it seems the chokeweed is having little effect on them. I may have to resort to less hospitable measures." **************************************************** The octopus femme pulled a bow out of her Elfintory and started to draw it playfully. 1Image: 0605mommm "MOM!!" the Mer-girl yelled, interposing herself between Ethel and me. "Knock it off! You're totally embarrassing me in front of company!" As I admired the Mer-girl's figure, my mind filled with lascivious fantasies of her laying a clutch of eggs and then me swimming up and fertilizing them... Huh. That must be how Mer-folk did it. "Hi," the Mer-girl said with a smile as she turned and looked me over. "I'm Finnia." "I'm Adler," I stated suavely. "AHEM," Fred interrupted. "Now that you've had some pie, with - I hope - no ill effects, shall we adjourn to the Birthplace of Irenaeus?" "Mind if I tag along?" Finnia asked, grabbing hold of my arm. 2Image: 0605totheplace "You'll have to excuse our daughter, Your Grace," Fred explained. "We seldom get visitors here, and, well, she's very willful." "A Duke?" Finnia murmured. "How fascinating!" "The lass definitely takes after you, she does," Estvan observed. "Physically yes, but she has more of her mother's personality." "Pardon me for prying, but you and your wife being so dissimilar, how did ye manage to - ?" "We have our own magicks down here, sir," Fred stated flatly. "Now then, if you're ready, the Birthplace is a short swim out this way." "Have fun out there!" Ethel called out behind us as we left. "If you're not killed, I'll be waiting for you when you get back!" 3Image: 0605thebirthplace After a few minutes we rounded a wall and entered what must have been a courtyard when Aethstad was above water. There before us lay the toppled menhir and the smallish hole I swam through earlier to escape the gigantic carnivorous fish. "Welp, there it is," Fred declared. "Not very impressive at all, at all," Estvan observed mournfully. "This is it??" I asked, incredulous. "But we've already been here!" "Okay then," Finnia yawned and stretched languorously. "Let's go back in and get better acquainted. I'm sure now that your Pilgrimage is done, you'll want to take off that shirt, Your Grace." I decided to ignore this obvious Wile for the moment. "Are you quite certain this is the place?" I asked Fred. "Isn't the standing stone supposed to be, well, standing?" "This is definitely the place," Fred stated with conviction. "As for the stone, it's been like this for as long as I can remember. The only thing out of place is the Guardian. There's usually a gigantic fish that hovers over this spot." "Sure, and it's him we met on the way in," Estvan explained. "Have you ever thought of restoring the site? Maybe raising the stone upright again?" I asked. "Nah. Seems like a lot of effort for something nobody ever comes to visit. Seriously, since Otho chartered us, you're probably only the third pilgrim to show up." "Would you like more pilgrim traffic?" I asked. "Athstead does a booming trade from people coming to visit the Shrine - and they don't even have the real birthplace! I could probably talk to some people, get some signs put up, promote this as a travel destination." "I'd have to think about that," Fred mused. "This is boooring," Finnia whined. "Let's go back inside!" 4Image: 0609whatabout "What can you tell me about the previous two pilgrims?" I asked. "When did they visit, and what species were they?" "Sort of hard to keep track of time down here, Your Grace," Fred admitted. "The first was a mer-elf, or at least he appeared in fishy guise like yourself. The second was clad in a bulky diving suit; we had some difficulty just communicating with him, never mind figuring out what breed he was. Both of them meditated a little while at the Birthplace and then left." "Oh boy," Finnia yawned. "I am ready to go to bed!" **************************************************** "What's the story behind the Guardian?" I asked. "Why is there a monstrous fish guarding this site?" "Well, I don't think he's actually here for that purpose," Fred chuckled. "We just call him the Guardian because he hangs around here all the time. My guess is he just likes this place because it's a cozy semi-enclosed area, and the fresh water coming up out of the spring is probably quite refreshing to him." "Do you know anything about Irenaeus?" I asked hopefully. "Maybe something that didn't make it into the popular legends?" "All I know is he was a white-furred drylander who lost his tail," Fred summarized. "He happened to be born on this spot while his parents were on the run." "On the run?" "Well, I guess I should say they were traveling," Fred amended. "Old Chief Waftvapr and his wife were heading from Albric Tor to Caer Adland, and right here's where they had to stop when she went into labor." "Speaking of births," I segued, "what exactly is the magick you use that enables different breeds of elves to conceive children together?" "Considering how hard my daughter is flirting with you, I think I'll wait til you're ready to leave before I tell you that," Fred muttered. "DAD!!" Finnia squealed petulantly. "Fair enough," I sighed. "So far, that particular secret seems to be the only worthwhile thing to be learned here. I don't understand why Uncle Roland sent me on this quest. Did he just want me out of the way for a while?" "I really don't know the answer to that, Your Grace," Fred shrugged. "Well, how about getting that stone back upright?" I suggested. "Maybe there's a door or an inscription under it, or something." "How do you propose doing that?" Fred asked. "It's mighty heavy, and it's sunk well into the river mud, plus we don't have any ropes, and it's practically impossible to apply much torque by swimming." "Och, not to worry at all, at all," Estvan chuckled. "We can handle it, we can!" "What's your idea?" I asked via Elfmind. "Are you all right, Your Grace?" Fred asked, concerned. "You look quite ill all of a sudden." "I had a cracking one involving Wiles," Estvan mentally giggled. "Twould be hilarious, but seeing as there's a lady present, I suppose it's best we were usin' force, we were. Just concentrate your will on raising the stone, me boyo, and twixt the two of us an easy thing it should be." 1Image: 0609raising I focused all my magickal will on the stone. Estvan did the same. Gradually it began to stir. The stone tilted out of the mud, and silt swirled up around us in a cloud. When the haze cleared, the stone was standing. I circled around it carefully. There was no door, and no inscription. It was just a plain menhir. 2Image: 0609yeswho "Well there's another dead end," I muttered, placing my hand on the stone. "I don't know what was the point of this quest." Behind me, an eerily familiar voice spoke. Well met, my son. "W-what?" I stammered, slowly turning my head. "Mom??" 3Image: 0609fuma Not quite. "HOLY FUMA!" I yelped as I beheld a colossal figure rising from the river bed. So you recognize me then. Very good, my child. I tried to think of what Irenaeus would do in a situation like this, but I drew a complete blank. The subconscious inner voices which usually prompted me to action seemed to fall silent in the presence of the goddess. Whether it was a chokeweed-induced hallucination or something else, either way it was pretty overwhelming. There was no precedent in my experience for this kind of thing. 4Image: 0610prostrate It seemed like the best option would be to grovel like a lowly supplicant, so I quickly prostrated myself in the muddy river bottom. "Oh Mighty Fuma," I burbled semicoherently. "Have mercy on me, a sinner." **************************************************** 1Image: 0610inhand By my halidom, don't start with that "I'm not worthy" routine. Of course you're worthy, else I would not vouchsafe you a personal manifestation of my pulchritudinous glory. You have done as a Pilgrim should: You have come to one of my sacred sites, dressed in holy garb festooned with appropriate symbols. You have partaken of chokeweed to aid the opening of your Inner Eye. You have energized the holy Relic with a blast of powerful magick. Thus, as agreed, here I am. Stop averting your eyes! Arise, young Elf. Arise and behold my glory. I very shakily stood up (I seemed to have somehow reverted back to my true skunk-elfly form) to discover that the goddess was holding me in her hands and peering at me as if I was some kind of interesting bug. Tell me what you see, child. 2Image: 0610smirk Elves don't lie. I clasped my hands in front of my face as tears of mingled rapture and horror streamed uncontrollably down my cheeks. "I ... Great Fuma, I see a glorious, m-magnificent skunkess of incomprehensible b-beauty." Fuma grinned at this. Why Adler, you coltish young rogue. That's exactly the kind of thing an old goddess likes to hear. 3Image: 0610embrace Suddenly she changed size and wrapped me in a warm, snuggly embrace. I had never felt such bliss. And her scent ... Great Fuma ... How can I describe the goddess' musk? She smelled absolutely divine!! 4Image: 0610threeboons As suddenly as the embrace began, it was over. Without seeming to move, Fuma was now standing well away from me. Now you must choose one of three boons which I may bestow. Would you have the blessing of wisdom, or power, or luck? ************************************************ This was a difficult decision! I needed to give it some thought! Power was obviously not the right thing to ask for, because I could get power easily enough via one of the other two blessings. There was something to be said for wisdom, but one can always obtain wisdom with patience and study. Luck was the only truly supernatural boon the goddess was offering. Luck would make things easier, thus paving the way for me to obtain power and wisdom on my own! "O Great Fuma, I choose luck," I declared. 1Image: 0611ponder Interesting. Not even I have been able to figure out why they always ask for what they already have. The scoundrel in the fishy disguise asked for power, and the fat boy in the diving suit wanted wisdom ... ah well, luck it is then. Oh, I almost forgot to mention: By accepting this boon you agree to dedicate your efforts henceforth to restoring Faerie and correcting the Mistake. Failure to do so will result in you being condemned without appeal to the ninth Netherhell forever. Signify your assent by staring vacantly. The terms are accepted and the geas is made. My blessing upon you, Adler Young. 2Image: 0611benedictio Fuma reached down and rubbed her Divine knuckles on my scalp. WOW! A benedictio interphalangeal from the hand of Fuma herself! I was feeling lucky already! 3Image: 0611peepcreep Oh yes indeedy! Divine luck! As the goddess bid me farewell and ascended heavenward, I cauht a lucky upskirt peek ... ... verily, a glimpse of Paradise ... (hehehehehehe) As soon as I was done being lecherous and creepy, I realized I was in my mer-form again. 4Image: 0611diducdat "Did you guys SEE that??" I exclaimed, peering around the menhir and waving my arms wildly. "See what?" Fred asked. "FUMA!" I shouted. "She was HUGE! She was standing right THERE, and she talked to me and bestowed a blessing on me and, and everything!" "Sure, and when did this happen, lad?" Estvan asked. "Just now?" "Can we go inside now?" Finnia pouted. "Yes, she was here just now!" I insisted. "Big as a house, towering over this entire place! We had a whole conversation! Didn't you see her?" "Nay, lad," Estvan explained. "We saw no colossal figure, and no time passed at all, at all. It's around the menhir you were swimmin' and then all of a sudden you start shoutin' at us for no reason that's apparent." "But .. but .. she embraced me, and gave me a blessing, and placed a geas upon me," I protested. ***************************************************** 1Image: 0614realize As the awe of the Divine encounter began to wear off, a sobering realization started to sink in. What were the odds that Marshal Roland knew about this shrine and sent me on this quest specifically to meet Lady Fuma and gain her blessing? What if Marshal Roland himself had visited this shrine some time in the past, and met the Lady in person? "Are you sure it was Fuma, me boyo?" Estvan asked gently. "Did she say she was Fuma?" "Well, uh ... no, I guess she didn't actually say so ... but I yelled 'Holy Fuma' when I saw her, and she said 'Oh, you recognize me' so of course it was Her!" Estvan gave me a skeptical look and shook his head. "Sure, and that sounds like a trick, it does," he stated mournfully. "What all did this Fuma (as it were) say to you?" 2Image: 0614scoundrel "She told me about the previous two pilgrims," I explained, while peering suspiciously at Estvan. "One was a 'fat boy' in a diving suit who asked for wisdom; that could have been my Uncle Roland. The other was a scoundrel in a fishy disguise who asked for power. Are you quite certain you haven't been here before?" "Oho, so it's a scoundrel you think I am then, is it?" Estvan grumbled. "Didn't I say I'd never seen the likes of a mer-elf before today? And wouldn't I, if I knew of the place at all at all, have led us straight here rather than endure the caterwauling of that Frolicker?" "Maybe," I speculated. "UNLESS you had sworn not to reveal the true Birthplace to anyone! Maybe that's the reason why nobody in Athstead will talk about it!" "Did the so-called Fuma place any such restriction on you as part of whatever bargain it is she talked you into?" "Gee," Finnia sighed as she swam in languid circles around us. "It sure would be nice to go inside and discuss these things in a more comfortable and intimate setting." 3Image: 0614testify We returned to the mer-elves' home and gathered in the living room. Fred sat in the fancy chair, and I sat on the couch between Finnia and Estvan. "It HAD to be Fuma!" I declared. "She was able to change size and move instantly, without inertia." "Begorrah," Estvan pointed out. "Any powerful Elf could do as much. Did I ever tell you, I was worshiped as a god by a lowfolk tribe, way back in me early youth?" "Well, she embraced me and it was absolutely heavenly," I continued. "And when she blessed me, she did a benedictio interphalangeal on my head, just like the Mephitist priests do. Plus, her description of the two previous pilgrims matches what Fred told us." "Aye, but why just those two? Did nobody visit the shrine in all the years before the Athafon shifted?" "I don't know, but listen: She was supernaturally beautiful. Her eyes were blank and luminous. Her voice seemed to come from nowhere and everywhere. She wore a holy symbol similar to yours, but bigger. And she had a mystical Third Eye in the middle of her forehead!" "Hmmm," Estvan pondered. "Those might be difficult to fake, at that." "Isn't Fuma a goddess of love?" Finnia asked. "If she has blessed you, there might be a way to tell easily enough..." "Well, what was it she said to you?" Estvan interjected. "She explained how I had fulfilled the requirements of a pilgrim by wearing a floral shirt, eating chokeweed, and blasting the menhir with magick. Then she offered me a choice between three blessings: Wisdom, power, or luck. I chose luck because it would theoretically lead me to the other two." Estvan nodded his head in approval as Fred bubbled his pipe. "Then she placed a geas on me, obligating me to work toward restoring Faerie and correcting the Mistake. What do you suppose she meant by that?" "Och, lad, if it's the Mistake she said, then sure'n I don't think that was Fuma at all, at all," Estvan exclaimed, a little more shrilly than necessary. 4Image: 0614themistake "IT MIGHT HAVE BEEN!" Ethel bellowed suddenly as she loomed behind us, brandishing a meat cleaver in one tentacle. "If your skunky harlot-goddess is in any way honest, she wants you to correct her Great Mistake!" "Fuma's Mistake is a heretical notion," Estvan muttered darkly. "Fuma's Mistake is a REAL Mistake!" Ethel declared. "None other than the Empire itself! It started here, didn't it? And only a silly celestial strumpet would con poor chumps who come here into trying to rectify that, now, don't you agree?" "MOM!" Finnia groaned. "How am I ever going to find a boyfriend if you antagonize every male who visits?" "Well, if you would bring home a nice Unseelie boy, I might have a better attitude," Ethel sneered. "These are the only visitors we've had in over a century!" Finnia said in exasperation. "Now quit offending them with your religious views!" "Humph," Ethel snorted. She turned to Estvan and me, and said with a grin and a flourish of her cleaver: "Please stay for dinner. I'd love to have you!" ************************************************** 1Image: 0617byenow "Well, thanks very much for your hospitality," I squeaked nervously, "but we really should be going! We left several friends and associates on the river bank, who are probably getting anxious about us by now!" "Aw, do you really have to go?" Finnia pouted. "Feel free to stop by any time you're in the neighborhood," Fred offered graciously. "Feel free to die any time it's convenient for you," Ethel chimed in. Estvan and I swam away at a controlled pace, trying not to seem like we were fleeing. "A relief it is, lad, to get away from that overbearing cephalopod," Estvan sighed. "I guess I haven't had much exposure to the Unseelie," I admitted. "I had no idea that they didn't worship Fuma. I thought everybody worshiped Fuma." "Ach, no, lad," Estvan snorted. "The majority of Unseelie in the Empire venerate Fuma in her dark, destructive aspect. A great many of them are agreeable and conscientious sorts - and true it is, a few of them are indeed quite fun to have about! But then there are others who worship things and ideas, and some like Ethel who serve old gods or demons from the Long Ago. The most dangerous kind of all, me boyo, are those who acknowledge no gods whatsoever." Suddenly I realized something! 2Image: 0617giforgot "OH NO!" I exclaimed. "I forgot to ask Fred about the magick they use in order to reproduce across different breeds of Elf! That could be of great use to the Empire! And I also forgot to use a seductive Parting Wile on Finnia!" "Why would you want to torment the lass so?" Estvan asked. "Is it Unseelie you are, your own self? Anyhow, hardly necessary it seems, the way she was fawning over you the whole time we were there. Sure, tis some sort of mojo you've got, Your Grace. Charmed the mer-maiden it has, as well as the Ixie, and possibly me wife. Why, even that musical otter has fallen under its spell." "Izzy?" I asked, dumbfounded. "Do you mean he's ...?" "To be sure, to be sure," Estvan nodded. "How could ye not have noticed?" I decided to leave this revelation for the moment and pursue a different topic. "Hey, listen," I segued. "I'm sorry I implied earlier that you might be a scoundrel, but I'm pretty sure that was Fuma I saw. She made her identity quite clear, and demonstrated powers that -" "Sure and it was her, lad," Estvan interrupted. "Just not wantin' to admit it I was, not with that blasted Dagon-worshiper in earshot." "Oh. Okay. Well then ... I have to know ... what's Fuma's Mistake?" 3Image: 0617harumph "Tis a dangerous notion, and one I'll not be accepting," Estvan scowled. "There are many with a political agenda who would claim the Empire was Fuma's Mistake, as it united Faerie under one rule and one religion - and since its founding, Elfkind has been in a slow and steady decline. But never a word about a mistake did She speak to me, nor did the monks. Did She tell you it was Her mistake, or how exactly was it said?" "She called it 'the Mistake'," I admitted. "Well there, you see? Could've been anybody's, it could. And besides, think about it: If the Empire was the Mistake, and if, as you suppose, your estimable Great-uncle was here and received the Lady's blessing, why would he be workin' so hard to uphold that Empire?" "Good point," I concurred. "But we don't know for sure that the fat pilgrim WAS him. I just wish the goddess had explained herself more clearly. How am I supposed to correct the Mistake if I don't even know what it is?" "Fuma, lovely and powerful though She may be, has never been known for concise and unambiguous communication," Estvan observed. "Even in person, She remains profoundly enigmatic. Perhaps tis one of the basic qualifications of a god." At this moment we reach the surface of the river, and transmogrified back into our normal selves. 4Image: 0617there "THERE THEY ARE!" Izzy shouted from the riverbank as he pointed toward Estvan and me. "I've been searching frantically for you guys! I was just about to dive and look again when you appeared! How did it go down there? Did you find what you were looking for?" Behind Izzy, on the bank, was the carcass of an enormous black fish. The Master of Elfhame, Yolanda, Theronmyathus, and Sir Ravenmad were all gathered in the background. They seemed to be roasting slabs of fish meat over a fire, producing a tantalizingly tasty aroma. *********************************************** Info Break! Estvan's remark about religion in the previous episode drew some comments, so permit me to elucidate. Since Fuma - and maybe some other minor gods - are demonstrably real, we don't have, um, what do you call it, 'atheism' in Faerie .. because as you know, we don't lie. Though only Mephitism has the full sanction of the Imperial State, elves are free to worship whatever gods they want ... just as long as they do it discreetly. However, an Unseelie elf with an unbridled ego can decide that no god possesses any higher moral authority than he* himself does, thereby making him unaccountable to the Divine, and placing absolutely no limits on his capacity for evil. Such an abandoned individual is a danger to everyone, including himself. The Empire cannot condone such potentially destructive opinions among its citizens. *Or she, since I'll not deny that the female has an equal - if not greater - propensity for wickedness. ******************************************************** 1Image: 0620glomphuggle As soon as I got out of the river and Gramaried myself dry, Izzy grabbed me in a slightly-too-affectionate-to-be-fraternal embrace. "I was really starting to get worried," he sighed. "I'm really glad you're okay, Your Grace. We were speculating whether or not the big fish had gobbled you up." "We did have a rather close call with him," I admitted. "How did he wind up here on the shore?" "Oh, well he was worked up about something - maybe your close call," Izzy giggled. "I think it was on my third or fourth dive he targeted me. We had an epic river battle! I might have been a goner if Master Winterbough hadn't intervened. It's like they say, you can't keep a good Frolicker down! But enough about me and my adventures; tell us what happened to you!" "Well, uh, after evading the giant fish, we located the Birthplace with the help of a family of Mer-elves," I related. "Have you ever seen any Mer-elves around here?" "No," Izzy marveled. "They must keep a really low profile." "Well, they've been down there since the reign of King Otho. Apparently it's a pretty lonely life. But get this: They have a Royal Charter to maintain the site and everything, which makes me wonder why nobody in Athstead seems to know about it. Why is the real Birthplace of Irenaeus such a big secret?" Izzy shrugged, while Ravenmad muttered thoughtfully in the background: "I'm sure there's a novel in this somewhere..." 2Image: 0620backwitch "Look, Pookie, I'm all back to normal," Yolanda giggled as her husband approached the campfire. "Well, mostly," she added, with a mysterious grin. "Cushlamochree! Stay back, witch!" Estvan squeaked desperately. "ALL IS HAM," the Master of Elfhame whispered ominously. He looked slightly ill. "Sure, and what's wrong with Westersloe?" Estvan asked with a worried glance at the Master of Elfhame. "Oh, trying to sort out me and the Ixie, and helping Rivermaster Izzy fight the big fish sort of did a number on him," Yolanda explained. "He will probably get over it in a few days, if it's anything like what I had." "Where is the Ixie anyway?" I asked, looking around. "She flew off as soon as she was back in her right body," Yolanda shrugged. 3Image: 0620godmeat "So, you guys are having a cookout and eating the giant fish?" I asked, pointing out the obvious. "It smells really good." "It is really good, Your Grace," Ravenmad proclaimed as he daintily inserted a morsel on a long fork into a hole at the tip of his mask. "Mmm! (chomp chomp) Mm, yes, that tastes divine!" Theronmyathus scowled uneasily at his fillet. "If I'm not mistaken," Ravenmad continued as he cut another bite-sized chunk of his fish steak, "we are dining on the carcass of Iku-Turso the Hook-Boned Water Dog, fabled Guardian of the Athafon, who was worshiped in times past by primitive Elves who inhabited these parts." "I don't feel right about eating this," Theronmyathus groaned. "I shouldn't have taken a second helping." "Oh tish-tosh, Cadet, there's nothing inherently wrong in eating a pagan deity," Ravenmad gently protested. "It was probably instrumental in effecting a cure for Mrs. Silverbrush - and would do the Master of Elfhame a world of good, were he not an herbivore. No, this is not the first time I've tasted god-flesh, and hopefully it will not be the last. Ah, I remember once in my younger days, at the Temple of Phn'gli in Amsabad ..." "LUCIAN!" Estvan yelped suddenly. "I do hope you'll not be tellin' that tale now, not in mixed company???" He darted his eyes meaningfully toward Yolanda. "Sure and there's a lady present?? Me own wife, no less?" "Ah. Quite," Ravenmad muttered nervously. "Another time then, perhaps." "Here, Your Grace, you can have my fish," Theronmyathus croaked. "I'm pretty sure it's done." "OW!" I said as I burned my thumb while transferring the sizzling fish-steak from the roasting stick onto a wooden plate. "Careful, it's hot," the Cadet pointed out uselessly. "Oh Rivermaster, do carve off another slice for Cadet Theronmyathus," Ravenmad called. "That's really not necessary," Theronmyathus protested. "Already on it, Theron, old pal," Izzy sang cheerily from the fish carcass. 4Image: 0620grossbook "OH HEY!" Izzy called out suddenly, holding up a soggy slime-covered book. "Look here at what was the old fellow's last meal!" "Is that my old copy of Merit of Valor?" the Cadet squawked in disbelief. "Yeah, I think so! Do you want it back?" "No, I'm quite pleased with my new one," Theronmyathus answered. ***************************************************** 1Image: 0624minnow "Hold on," Izzy said, opening the book and glancing inside it. "This isn't Merit of Valor. It's called Minnow of Valor, and it um ... seems to be about a brave minnow who defends Bruthenion Bridge against an overwhelming force of savage jungle catfish ..." "Really?" Sir Ravenmad interjected. "I would very much like to see that." Izzy handed the messy book to Ravenmad, who curiously perused it. "This is quite fascinating," Ravenmad mused. "It's obviously very closely based on my own military epic, Merit of Valor. I wonder if its exposure to Iku-Turso's digestive juices caused a - " Sir Ravenmad paused mid-sentence as an unwholesome gurgling emanated from beneath his feathery robes. "Oh dear," Ravenmad exclaimed. "I think I shall need to be excused for a few minutes. If you haven't eaten the fish yet, Estvan .. Your Grace .. I'd advise against it. Back shortly!" The poet leaped up and dashed frantically into the bushes amid a chorus of rumblings and muffled explosions. 2Image: 0624thecurse "I knew I shouldn't have had a second helping," Theronmyathus groaned, clutching his stomach. "Pardon me everyone; I need to go as well." "THE CURSE OF IKU-TURSO CLAIMS ANOTHER VICTIM!" the Master of Elfhame dolefully intoned. "ALL IS HAM." Theronmyathus got up and stumbled toward the undergrowth. "Don't come over here!" Ravenmad shrieked from behind the bushes. "Trust me, you wouldn't want to!!" I carefully set down my plate of fish, relieved that I had only taken a tiny nibble. 3Image: 0624goodeye "Look, Pooky!" Yolanda tittered. "My Cursed Eye is all cleared up now! I have depth perception! It's amazing!" "Sure and that's nice dearie," Estvan patronized. "But won't you be needin' to scurry off into the bushes any minute now, to deal with the great fish's curse?" "Nope," Yolanda shrugged happily. "I feel fine." "Hist, woman! Unless me ears deceive me, tis the sweet music of a bottle I'm hearin'..." 4Image: 0624threehalf Estvan darted over to the Master of Elfhame, who was pouring out a cupful of something from a flask which he pulled out from under his cloak. "Westersloe, old chum," Estvan chuckled, clapping the Master affectionately on the shoulder. "Have I ever told you, me boyo, how deeply fond of you I am? Och, would that happen to be a bottle of bonny old Three-and-a-Half you've got there?" "I need a sip to fortify myself," the Master of Elfhame whispered. "All is ham." "Did someone mention Three-and-a-Half?" Sir Ravenmad asked from amongst the bushes. "Has the Master of Elfhame brought some with him? Jolly good show! That's just the thing for what ails me!" In less time than it took to tell, the Master of Elfhame, Estvan, and Sir Ravenmad had all gulped down shots of the mysterious liquid. "Here y'are, me boyo," Estvan declared, handing me a glassful. "The rarest, finest liqueur in all of Faerie!" ************************************************* 1Image: 0624tasty I carefully sniffed the liquid, then sipped it, swirling it around in my mouth to analyze the flavor. "I would have first guessed plum brandy," I theorized, "but since the Master of Elfhame was carrying it, I'd have to go with persimmons. Aged in oak barrels, if I'm not mistaken, for three hundred fifty years." "Quite a refined palette for one so young," Ravenmad said admiringly. "Well then, now that you've completed your Pilgrimage, what's next for the intrepid Duke Fitzgawain?" Hmmm. I thought about this for a moment before answering. I wanted to find out more about this "Mistake," since the task was given to me by Fuma herself ... but I wasn't sure where to go, nor whom to ask about it. I wondered if there was some sort of conspiracy afoot to conceal the truth about Irenaeus' Birthplace; for all I knew, that could have something to do with the Mistake. But I had strong reservations about trying to take on the Aldermen and all the merchants of Athstead who had a vested interest in maintaining the status quo. I would just have to trust that the Lady's Luck would put a solution in my path. For now, there was only one thing I definitely needed to do. "I guess I should probably head back to Persoc Tor," I admitted. "But first I need to find Lemmy .. er, Agent O'Possum." "Well, it's best of luck I'm wishin' you, lad," Estvan said warmly. "Sure and we'll meet again, but for now it's some Quality Time with me wee wifey I'm needin." He and Yolanda sashayed arm-in-arm through the reeds along the riverbank. "I wish you the best as well, Your Grace," Ravenmad said with a bow. "I must get back to my rooms at the Royal Crib Inn. I do hope our paths cross again; it's always a pleasure to see you. Just remember, there are always more worlds to explore, if you just open the right doors." He turned with a sly wink and ambled back toward the town. "I'll accompany you as far as the Watch Station, Your Grace," Theronmyathus croaked. "In all probability, Agent O'Possum is still there, attempting to flirt with Lieutenant Supial." "Oh, you saw him there, eh?" I chuckled. "I think we should bring the Master of Elfhame with us too. He looks to be in a slightly vulnerable state." "The courtesy is appreciated, Your Grace," the Master whispered. "Most things are ham." "Can I come too?" Izzy asked eagerly. "Sure," I replied, as I pulled the Lemmy hairs (swiped earlier from his hat) out of my Elfintory. "Now, it's probably a good bet that Lemmy is still at the Station, but just to be sure, I have a way to track him no matter where he is. Please keep an eye on me so I don't stumble into the river or down a hole or something." 2Image: 0624findlemmy With the hairs in my hand, I entered a Psychometric trance and began walking slowly in the direction of Lemmy. "WOW, this is so awesome!" Izzy sighed. "I'm actually on a quest with a scion of the Irenaeid dynasty, and he's actually got beautiful white fur like the Big Skunk himself, and he can do magick!!! Somebody pinch me!" Nobody in our group offered to pinch Izzy. My trance led us eventually into an alley behind the Watch Station, and then to a large door on the side of a building in that alley. "This is the supply shed for the Watch," Theronmyathus explained. "In addition to office supplies, we also have armaments, emergency rations, and evidence stored in there. It's supposed to be kept locked - " The Cadet pointed at the padlock dangling, open, on its hasp. "This is highly unusual," Theronmyathus continued. "I would advise caution. Though it seems to me unlikely that the Lieutenant would fall for Agent O'Possum's so-called charms, it is possible we might witness something ... unprofessional ... if we barge in." "Lemmy is definitely in there," I pointed out. "Unprofessional or not, we need to go in and get him." I pushed open the door and walked inside. 3Image: 0624shesunseelie In the back of the storage shed, behind a wall of crates, I found Lemmy slumped against the wall. He appeared to have been tied up. "Oh Your Grace," the possum sniffled. "I'm glad to see you, but you need to get out of here right away. Flee! It's a trap! She ... she's Unseelie!" 4Image: 0624mwahahaa "That's right!" Lieutenant Supial cackled diabolically as she stepped into the doorway of the shed. "Between the town Aldermen, the Vulpitanians, and the Adland Faction, there's quite a tidy sum to be made in hushing you up. Don't bother trying to escape; there is only one way out of here, and my bandits have it well guarded." "Lieutenant Supial??" Theronmyathus exclaimed. "I am shocked! That's not a regulation uniform!" "I would ask if you like it, but I already know you don't approve, you young fuddy-duddy," the Lieutenant sneered. "Always by the book, eh Theron? Well, you finally made a fatal mistake, getting mixed up with the Royal Bastard. GET EM, BOYS!!! But leave the white one intact; I may have some - heh heh - use for him later." Mara Supial crossed her arms and gazed at me with a look of desire mixed with villainous triumph. Nothing happened. "BOYS!!!" the Lieutenant yelled over her shoulder. "I SAID, GET EM!!" *************************************************** 1Image: 0624heresjimmy "Stand aside, lady," Jimmy the Bard snarled as he shoved his way into the room. "Your 'boys' are a joke. And anyway, that little white twerp is mine. YOU HEAR ME, IMPOSTER??" He pointed a claw at me. "YOU'RE MINE!!" "Jimmy the Bard," I beseeched. "I'm not trying to steal your gig! This isn't even the tavern; why aren't you there working right now?" "SHUT IT, SQUIRT!" Jimmy yelled. "I've got a score to settle with you!" 2Image: 0626bagswipe Jimmy lunged in toward me and took a swipe with his claws. I easily dodged the attack, and the enraged bard shredded a sack of flour. In order to gain whatever tactical advantage I could, I immediately started thinking of mushrooms. "Magick tricks, eh?" Jimmy coughed through a cloud of flour. "Too cowardly to face me, eh? What would Irenaeus think of that? Where the heck did you go anyway?" 3Image: 0626bigmeanie "Hey!" Izzie yelled. "Pick on somebody your own size, you big meanie!" "There you are, weakling!" Jimmy gloated. "Now get ready for a hurtin!" The two combatants lunged at each other and collapsed into a writhing, slapping & scratching pile on the floor. "Hey, no fair!" Izzy squealed. "Stop that!" "Where's the rest of your clothes?" Jimmy hissed. "Come on! Are you fighting or frolicking here?" I crept carefully toward Lemmy with the intention of untying him - only to meet up with the Master of Elfhame, who apparently had the same idea. "I'll handle this, Your Grace," he thought at me via Elfmind. "You concentrate on finding a way out of here." "How did you penetrate my mushroom stealth?" I asked him. "Mushrooms are surprisingly easy to spot when all is ham," he replied cryptically. "I'm almost tempted to leave Lemmy here," I admitted grumpily. "He's got to be the most inept bodyguard I've ever seen." "Agent O'Possum can be quite capable under the right circumstances, Your Grace," the Master of Elfhame reassured me. "Ham. All is ham." ************************************************** 1Image: 0626gotyotail "HAH!!!" Jimmy bellowed triumphantly as he stood, brandishing Izzy's fake skunk tail. "As it says in the Mephitikon, 'A skunk's tail is his pride and glory.' I guess you're taken down a notch or two NOW, eh, ya little runt?" 2Image: 0626givitback "Wait a second ..." Jimmy mused after a brief pause. "OH NO! What have I done? I've made him look even more like Irenaeus now! Stupid, stupid, stupid!!" "You give that back _right now_, you big butthead!!!" Izzy shrieked, enraged. 3Image: 0626nostrigmata "Feel the wrath of the FIST OF IKU-TURSO," Izzy proclaimed in an eerie voice as he ominously extended his right arm. "It has the power to smell your weakness, puny mortal!!" "What in the Netherhells is that??" Jimmy hissed. "Are there ... nostrils in the middle of your hand? Get that thing away from me!!" The two of them collapsed into a struggling heap again. I sneaked around the end of a row of crates as Mara Supial got up and dusted herself off. She was standing between me and the only exit! 3Image: 0626villainess "Hey you idiots!" she yelled imperiously. "Cut it out! I'm the ranking villainess here, and I won't have anyone stealing MY glory! Now where's the Duke? I've got three contracts on that little Bastard, and I've gotta make him disappear from Faerie _and_ deliver him to Caer Adland to collect that fat triple fee!" Nobody paid the slightest attention to Mara's villainous monologue. Izzy and Jimmy continued fighting. "Okay, I guess I'm gonna have to do something drastic," Mara sighed. 4Image: 0626stooges "Lieutenant Supial!" Theronmyathus exclaimed loudly from behind a wall of crates. "All of this is going into my report! I'm not even sure where to begin listing all the regulations you're violating: Misuse of Watch facilities, out of uniform on Watch Station grounds ..." "Oh shut up, Theron!" Mara snapped. "I'm sick of you constantly quoting the rule book! Try thinking some thoughts of your own once in a while! And for your information, this IS the regulation uniform for an Unseelie female undercover operative who has broken her cover." "By Fuma, she's right!" Theronmyathus squawked. "Article 73, paragraph 9!" "Where's Duke Adler?" Lemmy whispered nervously. The Master of Elfhame nodded silently in my direction, but Lemmy shook his head. "I don't see him!" The Master of Elfhame nudged Theronmyathus and pointed to something above Lieutenant Supial's head. "We hang them up to keep them out of reach of vermin," the Cadet explained. "Up there, Your Grace," the Master thought at me. "Something is ham." I followed the Master's gaze, and grinned as I comprehended his plan. ***************************************************** 1Image: 0626hamocles "Enough dilly-dallying," Mara snarled as she suddenly produced two fistfuls of deadly-looking throwing daggers from her Elfintory. "I'm gonna have to do this myself, the old-fashioned way. No witnesses!" The Master of Elfhame muttered some hammy doggerel under his breath, and I quickly constructed some Gramarye of my own to untie the rope holding a huge, delicious-looking ham directly above Lieutenant Supial. The ham dropped, knocking the evil Lieutenant unconscious. I was extremely concerned at this new turn of events. Apparently the Athstead Chamber of Commerce wanted me dead, maybe because I knew too much about the Birthplace of Irenaeus? That one at least made sense. I didn't understand at all why the Vulpitanians would want me eliminated ... and what was this Adland Faction? I had never even heard of it before, but it seemed that somebody was willing to pay to have me kidnapped and delivered to Caer Adland. Why?? I thought that maybe I should stop by the Royal Crib Inn and ask Sir Ravenmad if he knew anything about any of this.. I was also extremely relieved (and just a little disappointed) that I didn't have another mysterious episode with the bow and the Royal Tail-Comb. It would have been awkward to have to return a completely toothless heirloom to my great-uncle. I decided to make haste away from the storage shed before the ruckus drew too much attention. I could still hear the sounds of weary combat between Jimmy and Izzy as I stumbled over Lieutenant Supial's unconscious body and out into the alley. To my right I saw a pile of unconscious goons all dressed in regulation Bandit outfits, so I decided to slink off to the left instead. Behind me, I heard Lemmy start to sob, "Oh Mara, poor Mara ... I could have loved you if only you'd been Seelie." "There there," Theronmyathus croaked soothingly. 2Image: 0626youralive A familiar voice stopped me short in my journey up the alley. "Duke Adler?" Miss Chetsweeks exclaimed in surprise. "You're alive? I mean, how wonderful it is you survived!" "You can see me?" I boggled. "Please, Your Grace, you've got to try a lot harder than that to fool a Vulpitanian. I don't mean to interrupt your cowardly escape, but you really should head back to Persoc Tor right away. There has been a - how should I put this - significant development while you were gone." 3Image: 0629whatumean "What exactly do you mean by that?" I asked suspiciously. "And what are you doing here in Athstead?" "Oh, well, I'm not sure I should say," Miss Chetsweeks waffled. "Events have transpired back at Persoc which I think will be of considerable personal interest to you. As for why I am here, well, the Embassy sent me to check up on certain diplomatic matters of official Vulpitanian concern. I'm not really at liberty to discuss the details." "The House of Irenaeus must fall!" a tiny squeaky voice shouted behind you. 4Image: 0629dagger I turned and instinctively dodged just in the nick of time as a dagger flew past my head and straight toward Miss Chetsweeks. *************************************************** The knife struck home with a metallic crunch and embedded itself up to the hilt in Miss Chetsweeks' eye socket. I cringed and everyone let out a yelp of alarm at the gruesome sight, but the vixen seemed to be merely annoyed by her injury. 1Image: 0629stomp "Have you any idea how much this will cost to repair?" she snarled, advancing on a tiny reptilian bandit who was apparently hiding in Lieutenant Supial's Elfintory. "Wait wait!" the little lizard squeaked. "It was an accident! The Duke moved! I can explain! No no no!! AIEEEE!" "The Vulpitanian Embassy does not tolerate incompetence," Miss Chetsweeks hissed. "You may consider your contract terminated." She stomped on the lizard with a sickening crunch. I turned away ... ... to see a familiar figure strolling down the alley. 2Image: 0629glenholm "That looked like murder to me," Glenholm Webb observed blandly. "Second degree at least, wouldn't you say, Cadet? Here; I believe if you add these shackles to the ones you are carrying as per regulations, you should have enough to cuff all these miscreants. Including the Vulpitanian, of course." "I claim my diplomatic right to be turned over to the Vulpitanian authorities," Miss Chetsweeks stated. "Very well, but I shall still take you into custody while your transfer is being processed. If you would do the honors, Cadet?" Theronmyathus took the shackles from the detective and started handcuffing bandits. He seemed to be in a sort of daze. "First Sir Ravenmad and now this," he squawked, awestruck. "Detective Webb, you are one of my heroes. I've read all of your exploits." "I'm very flattered to know that," Glenholm Webb said. "And of course you realize that you'll likely be promoted after all this mess is sorted out?" Theronmyathus' face beamed with his happiest scowl as he rolled the unconscious Mara over and shackled her hands behind her back. "WAIT!" Lemmy exclaimed tearfully. "Please don't take Mara away! I know she's done some horrible things, but what if it was that evil little lizard riding in her pouch who tempted her down the Unseelie path? I beg you, release her into my custody and I will do all in my power to reform her, through the magic of True Love." "WHAT??" Miss Chetsweeks barked indignantly. "Tsk tsk," Glenholm Webb tutted sympathetically. "Only an elf in the grips of Love could spout such ridiculous nonsense. You know as well as I, young fellow, that an elf does not 'turn' Unseelie. It's a thing you either are or you aren't. Of course, with the proper motivation one can overcome one's baser impulses ... in another case I might consider your proposal, Agent O'Possum, but Mara Supial is the lynch pin of my ongoing investigation of organized banditry in the heart of the Empire. She is wanted for crimes in three steadings, fourteen counties, and six shires." "Would it be possible for me to interrogate her, sir?" I asked. "Since she was trying to kidnap and/or kill me, I believe I have a personal stake in this case." "I have no objection, Your Grace," the detective smiled, "but obviously you can't question her til she regains consciousness. And since she's a possum, there's no telling how long that will be. No offense," he added, with a nod toward Lemmy. "No time, Your Grace," the Master of Elfhame muttered as he picked up Mara's throwing knives. "We must return to Persoc Tor with all haste. There's ham afoot, I fear." "Pardon me, Master Winterbough," Glenholm Webb coughed, "but those blades are evidence in my investigation." "Oh. Of course," the Master of Elfhame whispered sheepishly as he handed over the daggers. "What about this ham?" "No, I don't suppose that's evidence ... but what do you want that for? I thought you didn't eat meat?" "Sentimental reasons," the Master of Elfhame whispered, clutching the ham to his bosom. "Now then, Your Grace .. Agent O'Possum .. time is of the essence." 3Image: 0629declaiming At that moment, Izzy swaggered out from the shadows of the storage shed and struck a heroic pose. He raised his hand and loudly declaimed thus: Mighty Izzy, River-Master, Faced the Manx-cat yclept Jimmy: White-furred, pink-eyed pallid monster; Sharp his claws and fierce his music! Foolish cat-bard full of fury Vainly grappled with our hero, Could not best the brave one's muscles, Was no match for otter frolics. Down to dust he went, defeated! Izzy sang a song of vict'ry, Standing in the watch-shed entrance, Boasting to his fair companions Of his battle with the Manx-cat. "You wouldn'a won if I hadn't worn myself out on all those bandits first!" Jimmy protested in a muffled grumble from somewhere inside the shed. "Very admirable Mr. Kersploosh," Genholm Webb said to Izzy. "If I can trouble you to stick around and answer a few questions ... actually I'd like to question all of you if I may." "Sorry, Detective," the Master of Elfhame insisted. "We really do have pressing business in Persoc that is ham - I mean - more crucial than this. I promise we'll be findable if you absolutely need our testimony." "Very well," Glenholm Webb agreed. 4Image: 0629solongpal "Wait! Before you go ..." Izzy grabbed me by the shoulders and looked into my eyes. "It sure was an honor meeting you, Your Grace. Will I ever see you again?" "It's possible," I admitted. "Thanks for all your help; I appreciate it - and you really are a hero, you know." Izzy smiled and squeezed my shoulder. It seemed like his hand made a snuffling sound, and a strange expression crossed his face ... but he shook it off after a second, and gazed at me fondly again. "I'm not gonna cry, Fuma dangit!" the otter sighed. "Get on out of here, you little cutie. There's important ham business back home! Farewell!" ************************************************** 1Image: 0629mailcoach After a frantic run back into town, followed by a series of mysterious exchanges of muttering and badge-flashing between the Master of Elfhame and various officials, I found myself seated on a bench in the back of a mail coach, pressed between a silent & gloomy Lemmy and a quiet & reflective Master of Elfhame. "Any idea what we're headed into?" I asked him. "The signs look ominous," the Master of Elfhame replied, gazing deep into his ham. "In fact, it looks quite bad." "How bad does it look?" I asked, worried. "What are the signs and auspices that you see?" 2Image: 0701hamscry "I SEE FIRE AND SMOKE," the Master of Elfhame uttered in a visionary trance. "AN ORDEAL ... TRIAL BY SALT-CURING ... FOLLOWED BY HANGING ..." "What do these omens portend?? Is this the present or the future that you see?" I asked, awestruck. "Or could it indeed be the troubled past of that particular ham?" "IN ALL PROBABILITY THE LATTER," the Master of Elfhame intoned mystically. "LOOKING DEEPER, I SEE ... A CROWN ... THE CROWN IS FADING ... A GREAT CHANGE IS IMMINENT ..." The Master of Elfhame trailed off into incoherent whispering, gazing at the ham and gently stroking its glazed, salty surface. "Is it a coup?" I asked urgently. "Kidnapping? Treason? Revolt? What???" "All is ham," the Master of Elfhame whispered. These were disturbing revelations, but it looked like I wouldn't know anything for certain til I returned to Persoc Tor. Though I had to admit, it was a sheer stroke of luck that the ham had been there, hanging in just the right place (and being heavy enough) to knock out Mara at the crucial moment. A hunk of meat that size could only have come from the haunches of a Great Southern Orthodont, imported from the Caer Adland region, making its presence in the Watch shed doubly unlikely. And then for the ham to be used by the Master of Elfhame in an exercise of hamomancy - a skill which he acquired while attempting to magickally disentangle Yolanda and the Ixie, in a seemingly unrelated event from earlier in my adventure ... Truly the Lady's Luck worked in convoluted and mysterious ways! I gratefully rubbed my knuckles on my scalp and whispered thanks to Fuma for my surprising good fortune thus far. As the mail coach rumbled on, I pondered on recent events: The outcome of my quest, the puzzle of Athstead's sinister cover-up of Irenaeus' true Birthplace, the mysterious cross-breed fertility of the merfolk, Fuma's strangely-worded geas, and the three-pronged plot against me, culminating in Mara Supial's assassinapping attempt. I didn't get very far on this subject before thoughts of Rivermaster Izzy intruded. He was a nice guy. Maybe he would appreciate a tuft of white fur from my tail, since he was such a big admirer of Irenaeus ... NO, what was I thinking?? First off, I wasn't Irenaeus, and secondly, it would be extremely foolhardy to give anyone a hunk of my own hair. Elves are Magickal creatures, and a personal relic like that could be used to cast spells against me. That's how Utica the Huntress gained control of her "victims"!! Not that I thought Izzy was as sinister as all that; it was simply a matter of policy ... Suddenly my train of thought was interrupted as my belly gurgled and I let loose a loud, noxious fart. "WHAT TREACHERY IS THIS?" the Master of Elfhame coughed. "Aww, please, Your Grace," Lemmy pleaded with watering eyes. "As if I don't have enough troubles already." "Excuse me," I mumbled, abashed. "They usually aren't that bad. It must have been that fish I ate." 3Image: 0701poorlemmy "How are you feeling, big guy?" I asked Lemmy, consolingly. He just sighed and kept looking at the floor. "You know, it doesn't make a lot of sense to pine over those ladies," I tactfully pointed out. "They're both almost thoroughly evil." "Mara could be redeemed!" Lemmy insisted tearfully. "Maybe if I give up everything to be with her, she will see how much I care, and turn from her Unseelie ways." "I'm afraid she is going to be spending a long time in prison," I predicted. "What about Miss Chetsweeks? She's got diplomatic immunity, plus she could totally plead self-defense, considering the lizard threw a knife at her and all. It's very likely she will be a free vixen in a few days. Definitely more possibility to reform her, if that's your ambition." "Alice is a monster," Lemmy sobbed. "Didn't you see the cold-blooded way she stomped on that little lizard guy? And she reacted to a knife in her eye as if it was nothing more than a skinned knee! There's something unnatural about her." "Yolanda told me that Miss Chetsweeks is mostly an automaton," I informed him. "Her tail is the only part of her that's real. The rest is an elaborate prosthesis built by Elfhamian craftsmen." "That's ridiculous," Lemmy scowled. "Yolanda said she saw it," I replied, slightly offended at his insinuation. "I guess it was when they were roommates at the inn, that night we fled from Albric Tor in the Marshal's coach." 4Image: 0701ixburst Suddenly one of the mail bags burst open, and the Ixie flew out amidst a flurry of envelopes and cards. "The Ominous Orse bear ominous tidings!" she exclaimed. "Thou'dst best get thine adorable butt back to Persoc Tor as soon as possible, My Grace Adler. Thy sire lieth on his deathbed, a victim of base treachery most foul!" "What happened to your eye?" I asked. "I'd rather not talk about it," the Ixie grumped. She flitted up and perched on a crossbeam in the roof of the coach. *********************************************************** Suddenly the mail coach stopped and an Officer of the Post walked around to the back. "You're not messin' with the mail back here, are ye?" he asked sternly, "because that be an Imperial offense." 1Image: 0701whydwestop "Why have you stopped?" I yelped in alarm. "We've got to get back to Persoc Tor immediately!" "We've stopped because there's mail, which we've sworn to deliver, a-strewn all along the road," the Officer explained. "So now we has to go pick it up and secure the sacks." "But the King is in mortal peril!" I exclaimed hotly. "This is urgent!" "So is the mail, youngster," the Officer retorted. "Takes two days to get from here to there, and that's with a fresh team driving all-out. And not having to stop and pick up mail what's blown out of an unsecured bag." "TWO DAYS!" I yelled. "It didn't take two days to get to Athstead!" "Actually, it did," Lemmy explained. "You slept through part of the trip, and .. well, I guess there was some Temporal Distortion." The Master of Elfhame nodded his head grimly at this upsetting piece of news. "Sooner this mail's picked up, sooner we can be on our way," the Officer remarked meaningfully. With a sigh I climbed over the Master of Elfhame (still staring vacantly into his ham) and out of the coach. Lemmy clambered listlessly after me, and we began picking up pieces of mail strewn along the road. "This is going to take AGES!" I lamented, looking at all the pieces of paper fluttering in the breeze & scattered for quite a distance behind us. "Could be the report is false or exaggerated," Lemmy suggested hopefully. "Didn't the Marshal say that the Ixies can lie?" "Yes, but why would she tell me the King is dying if it wasn't true?" I wondered. 2Image: 0705vb "Hey, look at that," I continued, pointing at a VB semaphore tower visible just above the treetops. Its signal flag was twitching & twirling rapidly. "What is it saying?" "I don't know the code, Your Grace," Lemmy replied. "But I've never seen them move that fast. There must be some big news." "I can't stick around and pick up all this mail," I wailed. "And then a two days' journey after that?? There has to be a faster way! What do you know about Gates?" "Not much," Lemmy shrugged. "You would have to find one, and know where it goes. Taking the wrong one could land you on the other end of Faerie from where you want to go." Well that wasn't going to be of any use right now. I still didn't know how to do Pooka Vanish ... what other way was there? If only I could fly! A thought occurred to me. "IXIE!" I yelled into the mail coach. "Miss Ominous Orse! Come to me!" "What dost thou wish, My Grace?" the Ixie replied, flitting down from the roof struts. "Hover here before me, and hold still," I commanded. "I want to study your form." 3Image: 0705scrutiny "Be still, my fluttering heart," the Ixie sighed as she hovered, suddenly pretending to be bashful under my intense scrutiny. After a few minutes I felt I had enough of a general understanding of Ixie anatomy to try to transmogrify into one. I imagined how it would feel to be small and chitinous, and to have wings on my back ... 4Image: 0705ixadler The magick did its work, and I transmogrified. The number of arms didn't seem right, and having an exoskeleton felt very strange, but this was close enough for what I needed to do. ******0705, 0712, 0718, 0724, 0729, 0802******************** 1Image: 0705drooly "Thou art HOT," the Ixie drooled, suddenly grabbing onto me. "I demand thou doest me right here, right now." "What, in the middle of the road, where everyone can see?" I countered nervously. "Under the coach then," she suggested lustfully. I didn't have time for this. "There's an emergency underway," I pointed out. "I can't pause for venery; I need to get to Persoc Tor as soon as possible. Which direction is it from here?" "That way," she said, pointing. "Knowest how to fly?" "Is there some trick to it?" I asked, fluttering my wings experimentally. "I'll see thee safely to thy destination if thou'llt indulge me with a bit of Afternoon Delight once we get there," the Ixie proposed. "Maybe," I shrugged. "After more important matters have been resolved." She seemed satisfied with that, and led me a few test laps around the mail coach. 2Image: 0705bonk Once I felt confident with my wings, I set off as fast as I could go in the direction of Persoc Tor. 3Image: 0712flyhmmm After flying for a while, weaving in and out among the trees, I was no longer sure of my heading. I turned to ask the Ixie, but she was not there. BLAST IT! This was no time to be playing games! The sun was sinking and the hour was getting late! 4Image: 0712uglybird While I buzzed irritably around, looking for the Ixie, suddenly a huge ugly feral bird appeared, with its beak agape, apparently intent on eating me! AARGH! **********0712, 0718, 0724, 0729, 0802******************** 1Image: 0712blastoff I was so startled by the bird that I involunarily released another noxious fish-fart which I had been holding back. It propelled me away with alarming velocity, leaving the hapless bird coughing in my wake. After I had rocketed an untold distance through the forest, I pondered what could have caused this effect. Presumably the pressure of my full-sized digestion was being magickally funneled through an Ixie-sized outlet, resulting in a powerful jet of vapor. The extra burst of speed was handy for escaping predators, but now I had no idea where I was. I could have blown myself several miles off course. 2Image: 0712clearing I flitted up into the treetops to look around and get my bearings. AH! There was a small settlement over to my left (best avoid that for now) and the walls of Persoc Tor on the horizon just ahead. Apparently I had blasted myself in exactly the right direction. Another stroke of Fuma's Luck! After a bit more flying and two more fortuitous blasts of gas, I arrived in Persoc Tor. The streets were quiet, and trade in the market seemed to be subdued, as if a pall of horrid expectancy hung over the city. I made my way to the Persoc Tor GHQ building and flitted into an open window. "I didn't summon you," Marshal Roland snapped, looking up from his desk as I entered. "I trust you have something vital to report. Hold on, you're not one of the usual lot -" 3Image: 0712itisi "Indeed not, Uncle," I declared, transmogrifying back into my true form. "Adler!" Roland exclaimed in surprise. "You're back already! And you've learned to transmogrify?" "It seems we have a lot to tell each other," I scowled. "What exactly did you mean about the 'usual lot' a moment ago?" 4Image: 0712erahem "Ah. Well," Roland flustered. "That's classified. We can discuss it later, ah, tit for tat, as I'll be wanting to debrief you on your quest mission. But right now, since you're here, I suppose you should see your father one last time." "One last time??" I gasped. "So it's true then? What happened?" "He was poisoned with a slow-acting toxin," Roland sighed. "As near as we can tell, it was administered about eighteen years ago. The poison is extracted from certain mushrooms .." he continued, with a narrow-eyed stare at me. "I was little more than an infant at that time!" I protested defensively. "You are not a suspect, Your Grace," the Marshal stated coolly. "Still, it is an odd coincidence. At any rate, as I said, you should go see him propmtly. There isn't much time. I've got to remain here in case some vital intelligence comes in, so Wing will escort ... no, on second thought, I should take you there myself. WING!" he shouted, heaving himself up from his chair. "Tend the office while Duka Adler and I are out. Take down any messages that come in, and if it's a Code One then send a runner to the King's sickroom. That's where we shall be." **********************0718, 0724, 0729, 0802******************** 1Image: 0718backbyham On our way out of GHQ, we met Lemmy and the Master of Elfhame in the corridor. "Teashor! Agent O'Possum! You're back as well," the Marshal observed. "Did you also transmogrify into flying creatures?" "Nope," Lemmy grinned. "The Master here opened up some kind of crazy Ham Portal which linked us to a slab of bacon in the pantry behind the GHQ cantina." Marshal Roland gave the Master of Elfhame a quizzical look. "I did not at first think such a thing was possible, Gracious Lord," the Master whispered. "But as it turns out, All is Ham." "You'll have to tell me all about it later, Winterbough," the Marshal remarked. "For now, report to my office and assist Sergeant Wing." I followed Great-Uncle Roland across the plaza and into the Royal Palace. We threaded our way through some other corridors until we reached a door with guards posted outside. Estmere was lounging against the wall opposite the door. 2Image: 0718calmest "How's he doing?" I asked. "Not too good," Estmere shrugged. "He's gonna die soon. If you want to talk to him, now's a good time. He's resting and the doctors are out for a short break." "You seem awfully calm," I remarked. "That's our father in there." "Yeah, well, I'm sure you have noticed, Dad was kind of a jerk," Estmere quipped. "Especially to you, dude. This is just his fate, like, working itself out according to Fuma's will. Getting all emotional about it now isn't going to change anything." I took a deep breath to steady my nerves, and approached the door. The guards opened it, and I entered. "Adler," my father wheezed from the bed. "Approach me." 3Image: 0718sire "Sire," I murmured, kneeling beside the bed and taking his hand. "Where have you been?" he asked. "Uncle Roland sent me on a quest to Athstead," I replied. "He's up to something," the King muttered. "I thought I told you to keep an eye on him." "You told me to assist him and find out what - if anything - he was planning," I clarified. "Ah well," he sighed. "It makes no difference now. Based on what they tell me, this assassination plot was consummated many years ago. Not long after you were born." He closed his eyes and was quiet for a while. I thought he had fallen asleep, so I began to rise & make my exit - but he suddenly gripped my hand. "I want you to look after my son," he hissed. "Watch his back. Who knows what Unseeliness is still afoot.." "But Sire, I am your son," I stated mournfully. "I meant my other son, ass!" he snapped. "The legitimate one, the heir! Now go, send in the doctors. Everything hurts." ***********************0724, 0729, 0802******************** I opened the door, and the doctors filed in. 1Image: 0724medics "I'm tellin' yez," Estmere's personal trainer Caravaggio said, apparently continuing a conversation they had been having, "a nice rubdown wit Qutmi ointment an' a whole lotta ale, den let 'im sweat out da poison in da sauna, he'd be right as rain in a day or two." "My good fellow," the Herbalist Extraordinary rejoindered, "we simply don't have a day or two. The stress of your treatment would surely tax his humors beyond the point of survival. Desperate situations call for drastic measures. I still say my proposal to drain all the blood from his body, boil it, distill it, purify it, and replace it, is the most medically sound proposition." "An' how's he gonna live widdout no blood in his body?" Caravaggio protested. The tall anteater doctor brandished an enormous clyster, and whispered something I couldn't make out. "Sure, an' it's not an enema His Majesty is needin', Kuhara, me dear," the masked vulpine doctor replied. "Constipation isn't his problem at all, at all. Begorrah, what we ought to do is turn back time to a point where the poison was still fresh enough to be counteracted, an' give him the antidote then!" "We ain't magicians here," Caravaggio objected. "Where would we ever get enough thaumaturgical force to put that plan into effect?" the Herbalist Extraordinary scoffed. "Och, it might could be done," the fox doctor mused. "Couldn't you use Gramarye and persuade the poison not to be poisonous?" I asked. "Dat might woik," Caravaggio said thoughtfully, as the fox doctor looked at me and nodded. "It's so simple," the Herbalist Extraordinary pointed out. "It lacks the scientific elegance of my plan." 2Image: 0724primate At that moment, Bishop Simeon, Primate of Persoc Tor, burt into the room. "ENOUGH OF YOUR DEVILTRY!" the Bishop bellowed. "BEGONE, YE FOUL SORCERORS! His Majesty hovers on the brink of Eternity and I am here to shepherd him into Fuma's Everlasting Embrace. I'll not have his last rites besmirched with vile spellcasting and necromancy! OUT! Just me, the King, and the Heir in this room! And the official chronicler, I suppose. All others OUT OUT OUT!!" The doctors and I all crowded out into the hallway. With a sigh, Estmere pushed himself away from the wall where he was leaning, and trudged wearily into the sickroom. The guards shut the door, and we stood there waiting. "Does the Mephitist church disapprove of magick?" I asked. "It does now," Marshal Roland grumbled. "Ever since that glorified ape attained a position where he could enforce his Mistaken opinions as official doctrine." The guards shuffled nervously. The doctors whispered among themselves. Suddenly, I farted. 3Image: 0724pyuwee "Fuma's sakes!" Marshal Roland exclaimed, as the guards coughed miserably and the gang of doctors scuttled away down the hall. "Your Grace, that is FOUL. What in the Netherhells have you been eating?" "It's all because of a huge black fish which we caught near Irenaeus' birthplace, and cooked up as part of our celebratory feast," I explained sheepishly. "Her Whiskers!" the Marshal gasped. "Don't tell me you actually ATE Iku-Turso the river guardian?" "Just a few small bites," I replied. 4Image: 0724hesdead At that moment, the sickroom door opened and Estmere came out. "Welp, he's dead," he announced. (Doctor Kuhara appears courtesy of "Dzemon" and http://kuharadoc.tumblr.com ) *********************0724, 0729, 0802******************** My heart sank and I felt queasy. The King of Faerie, my own father, had just died! Where was the earthquake, the thunderclap, the torrential rain? Why was the realm itself not torn asunder with grief for the passing of its sovereign lord? "Just like that?" I sniffled. "No signs or portents?" "Dude, this is real life, bro. Not one of those old legendary ballads." 1Image: 0724mortport "There is this," Estmere continued, holding up the Death Portrait painted by the Court Portraitist. "First thing I'm gonna do after my coronation is fire that painter. You can have this as a keepsake if you want it, little bro." 2Image: 0729baww I took the portrait and gazed at it with tear-clouded vision. My own father! And I hardly knew him! As I looked, the face in the portrait seemed to contort with pain. Great Fuma! This was simply too horrid to bear! The corridor began to spin around me, and I lost consciousness. (line) 3Image: 0729melon The next thing I knew, I was inside a coach, next to Marshal Roland, holding a slice of watermelon. "What the ..?" I asked. "You succumbed to a combination of emotional shock and paint fumes," the Marshal explained. "The Herbalist Extraordinary wanted to hang you upside down from the rafters, with your head in a bucket of cold water, but Estvan Silverbrush recommended that you simply be placed aboard the coach and be given some watermelon to eat when you woke up. An excellent idea." "Is Estvan a doctor?" I asked, skeptically. "Not at all," Roland chuckled. "I think he snuck in out of mere patriotic fervor. Eat your watermelon. It's good for you." 4Image: 0729suspicion "Where are you taking me?" I asked. "We're returning to Albric Tor for Gawain's funeral and Estmere's coronation," Roland explained. "This will be a rare occasion; an elf will actually be interred in the Hall of Ancestors. I've never seen it done." *************************0729, 0802******************** Title: At the Funeral The weather was horrible: Bright and sunny, totally inappropriate for the event. 1Image: 0729funeral Marshal Roland and Estmere and I were a somber trio during the private, family portion of the burial ceremony. I could not stop crying. The Marshal ceremonially broke his baton of office as part of the farewell proceedings, bringing an end to the former King's administration. 2Image: 0802nobles Afterward, the assembled Nobles and Cabinet Ministers filed in to pay their respects and proceed to the Coronation Chamber for the next part of the day's ceremonies. Everyone looked very somber in their floral mourning attire. I noticed a delegate from Caer Adland among the crowd, and HEY! What was Alice Chetsweeks doing here? Last time I saw her, she had murdered an elf in cold blood, and probably was involved in an attempt to assassinate me! 3Image: 0802crownthee We proceeded to the Coronation Chamber where ther was further rigamarole to the effect of declaring Estmere the heir to the Throne of Faerie, being descended from Irenaeus, blessed by Fuma, etc. etc. He was adorned with the Regalia and handed the scepter, and the Archbishop of Albric Tor proclaimed him King and Emperor while placing Gawain's crown on his head. 4Image: 0802kingestmere The only remaining prt of the ritual was for Estmere to sit in the Coronation Throne. According to tradition, only the true and rightful heir could sit there without being destroyed. Estmere sat, and sternly surveyed the gathered assembly. "First thing," he declared. "The Royal Portraitist is dismissed. Pack up your paints and your easel, dude, you're outta here." There was a dismal whimper from somewhere in the back of the crowd. "Next, the Herbalist Extraordinary is dismissed," Estmere proclaimed. "My father, the former King, died on your watch. My personal healer, Caravaggio the Tortoise, is henceforth the new Herbalist Extraordinary." Caravaggio bowed, while the ex-Herbalist Extraordinary stared in disbelief. "All ministers of the Royal Cabinet are discharged," Estmere continued. A gasp went up from the crowd! This was a wild departure from tradition! "Your Highness," one of the Ministers interjected nervously, "it is customary for the old King's cabinet to be retained, at least in the interim until replacements can be found better suited to the new King's style of governance -" "DUDE! Am I the Emperor or aren't I?" Estmere bellowed. "My father, the ex-King, was POISONED during you guys' administration. As far as I'm concerned, any one of you could be guilty of treason. I'm not interested in pursuing an investigation as long as all of you vacate the Capital and return to your private estates, like NOW. You have two days to get out of town, and if I ever see any of you again, you'll totally face legal proceedings. Is that clear?" The Cabinet Ministers shuffled their feet and muttered angrily, but none dared contradict the King. *******************0802********************************* "Last but not least, THIS DUDE," Estmere declared, pointing at me. 1Image: 0802whome "No longer shall my brother be known as Adler Fitzgawain," Estmere continued, in a loud voice. "He has always been a totally legit brother to me, so I'm declaring him a legitimate son of our father, officially recognized and all that. Henceforth he shall be called Adler Young, a full Prince of the Realm." The ex-Cabinet Ministered raised a number of mumbled objections at this, but Estmere silenced them with a wave of his scepter. "Furthermore, I am appointing him Grand Marshal of Faerie," Estmere proclaimed. The former Ministers spluttered in outrage. "Wait a minute," I interjected nervously. "I don't know the first thing about being Grand Marshal. Uncle Roland has tons, er, I mean LOADS of experience and he's done such a good job for two Kings already, why not re-appoint him?" "BECAUSE," Estmere announced, "sorry, Uncle Roland, no offense, but it was your job to protect the Realm, which means protecting the Government, which means specifically protecting the Royal Family, and my dad the late King Gawain, was totally assassinated on your watch. I can't re-appoint you after a failure like that." Roland nodded in a sort of dazed acknowledgement while I whimpered with a sort of panicked dismay. "Okay, okay, hold on a sec," Estmere continued, looking at us. "I can see that Adler is totally not ready to take on this role, so I'll appoint Roland Sartoriusson as Interim Grand Marshal, to train Adler until he's ready to take over. At that point, Uncle, you will go into retirement. Meanwhile I'm naming Adler the official Right Hand of the King." Another gasp went up from the crowd. There hadn't been a Right Hand of the King for centuries! Not since the reign of Carl the Adequate! Estmere kept talking, but the words didn't register. I was only aware that he wasn't talking to me, and that there was murmuring and gasping all around me. My heart was racing, and I felt as if I might throw up or faint or something. 2Image: 0806tenada "Uncle, I am SO sorry!" I groaned. "I didn't mean to take your job!" "Don't worry about it, Your Grace - er, I mean Your Highness," Roland grumbled reassuringly. "It isn't your fault. These things often happen when there is a regime change. It is not our place to question, but simply to obey our King." 3Image: 0806dismiss "Okay, now everybody out of here!" Estmere declared. "Be about your business! I need to spend some time in private, consulting with my new Privy Counselor. Also I want a lighter, better-fitting crown ready for me in not more than three days' time. Get to it!!" Estmere's Privy Counselor (I had never seen her before; who was she and where did she come from??) giggled prettily behind her hoof and batted her eyes at the King. Everyone shuffled out of the Hall of Ancestors, muttering and glancing at each other. "What exactly is a Right Hand of the King supposed to do?" I asked my great-uncle nervously as we threaded our way through the monuments. "Am I going to have to stay with Estmere constantly, and feed him and hold his wine glass?" "No, no, nothing like that," Roland chuckled. "The Right Hand is not a bodyservant. Then again, the Privy Counselor isn't supposed to be, either ... but I digress. As I understand it, the role of the Right Hand is mostly ceremonial. You are authorized to act on the King's behalf in certain administrative matters. We can find out more about it later. For now I feel it's far more important that you start learning the duties of the Grand Marshal as soon as possible." "Will I finally be allowed to wield a sword?" I asked, excitedly. "Absolutely not," Roland declared. "Even were you not the King's brother, the Right Hand is forbidden to carry a blade." 4Image: 0806psst As we exited the Hall of Ancestors and stood blinking in the sunlight, Miss Chetsweeks sidled up to me and whispered in my ear. "I have a proposal which may be of great interest to you, Your Highness. Meet me in front of the Embassy at sunset tonight and we shall discuss your future over dinner." "I think that vixen might still be trying to kill me," I nervously whispered to my uncle as Miss Chetsweeks glided away through the crowd. "It would be best to have her watched," Roland observed. "Remember, the enemies of the Crown are now your enemies, too. Whoever poisoned your father is still out there. Anyone who would stoop to such a cowardly, Unseelie act would be capable of almost any atrocity." ************************************************* Roland whistled softly and made a peculiar gesture with his fingers. "I shall show you how to do this later," he explained. "I've summoned an Ominous Orse. They are a clan of Ixies who serve me when needed." A few seconds later, the Ixie zipped up and hovered before us. "Thou callest, boss?" she said, with a casual salute to the Provisional Grand Marshal. "I'm afraid I shan't be your boss much longer," Roland sighed. "Young Prince Adler will be taking over as soon as I've got him trained." 1Image: 0806thypromise "Prince?" the Ixie asked as she turned to me. "I hope thou hast not forgotten thy promise to me, Thy Highness. May I expect satisfaction from thee tonight?" "You know each other?" Roland asked. "Tis my most fervent wish," the Ixie answered with a lusty glance at me. "What didst thou need, boss?" "Watch the vixen Alice Chetsweeks and report on her activities." The Ixie saluted again, wiggled her hips at me, and flew off. "Tell me you didn't promise her something," Roland said sternly. "I'm pretty sure I didn't, but she thinks I agreed to a tryst. I transmogrified into an Ixie in order to fly here from Athstead the night dad .. died .." "Yes, that reminds me, I wish to review with you all the details of your quest." 2Image: 0806eudora Suddenly Dame Eudora Chitterleigh bounded up and planted a kiss on my cheek. "Oh Adler, how exciting it all is!" she chittered breathlessly. "A legitimate Prince now! Right Hand of the King! You're moving up in the world! Shall I call you Your Highness from now on? I've missed you, darling; what a winter it's been! I had to sew plush toys for the Kringle .. it really wasn't so bad, considering what some other elves had to endure .. but now this! Oh, I'm so sorry for your father, but then again, now we have a new start with a new King! There's so much for us to catch up on; I know you're probably busy learning all your new duties but I do hope you'll stop by and see me. My evening are usually free! How about tonight?" I made some noncommittal noises and Eudora tittered excitedly. "Any time before midnight, my dear!" she breathed. Then, to my uncle: "Good to see you, Prince Roland." "The honor is mine, milady," Roland said with a courtly bow. Eudora giggled again and scurried away with her tail twitching. "There is much to teach you," Roland mused, once the crowd had dissipated. "You'll need to meet all of your operatives and officers and agents. You'll require a crash course in statecraft .. military organization .. analyzing and compiling intelligence reports .. operating the VB semaphores .. oh yes, and the use of the scrying towers. But before we begin any of that, you'll need to establish your personal base of operations. Once you have that island of stability around which to center yourself, then you can safely begin to expand your sphere of influence. Big changes must be done in small steps, Your Gr - Highness!" Roland escorted me quickly, and without another word, to the Military HQ building .. through a cloister .. down a corridor .. up some stairs .. threw open a door .. .. to a small, sparsely furnished room with a single tiny window. "Your Sanctum Sanctorum," Roland solemnly intoned. "The Grand Marshal's Personal Quarters." 3Image: 0806newdigs "Actually this is my room," he continued, "but give me a minute to gather my things out of the wardrobe, and you can move right in, Your Highness." "Please don't bother calling me 'Your Highness'," I insisted. "It sounds strange, especially coming from you. Just call me Adler, or, you know, something casual." "Very well ... Nephew," Roland replied as he stepped into the room and opened the wardrobe. "The room is nice and peaceful, I'll grant you that," I granted, "but why is it so simple? I would have thought the Grand Marshal merited classier accommodations than this." "In order to command soldiers, you must have their respect .. never give them cause to envy or disparage you. Besides, luxury is a distraction. I'm sure you probably think there is a secret room hidden away somewhere, but I assure you this is all there is of my personal domain. With all his weighty responsibilities, it would be unwise as well as unethical for a Marshal to take more than he needs." I glanced skeptically at Roland's immense belly, but I said nothing. He opened the wardrobe, and pulled a chest from under the bed in readiness to start packing. I was astonished to observe that the wardrobe contained only a few uniforms and some medals in a box. "Wait," I said, before Roland could stuff all his things into the trunk. "Isn't there another room I can use? I mean, if this is the Grand Marshal's quarters, I'm technically not the Grand Marshal yet, and it doesn't make much sense for you to have to move twice. Sure, you don't have much stuff, but I don't have any stuff at all .. so it makes more sense for me to be temporarily displaced, not you." "Fair enough, I suppose," Roland sighed, hanging his uniforms back in the wardrobe. "Give me a moment to change out of this mourning outfit, and we'll find a place for you. I believe there's an empty storage closet down the hall where we can set up a cot." I stood outside Roland's room for a few minutes til he emerged, with his uniform on. "Now I'm feeling more like myself," he grinned. "What are you going to do after you retire?" I asked as I followed Roland down the hall. "I know you've dedicated your life to the Empire, but now that I'm legitimized you would be pretty much free to do anything. Have you ever considered marrying?" "I'm afraid there's little possibility of that," Roland sighed. "I've longed for the chance to sit down and translate into Standard Elvish some of the little-known epics from remote outskirts of the Empire. Perhaps I'll do that." "You're so right for this job," I lamented. "It will be such a shame to see you go. What if I hire you on as my second-in-command? Generalissimo Supreme, or something like that?" "I would not want to outlast my usefulness," Roland gently objected. "Besides which, any such action would violate the spirit of the Royal pronouncement. If I recall correctly, His Majesty said I was to retire. It's not wise to defy the will of the King." "As Right Hand of the King, don't I have some authority to make that call?" I asked. 4Image: 0808glumwing Before Roland could answer, our conversation was interrupted by Sergeant Wing, carrying a lumpy brown paper package tied up with string. "Sorry fer the intrusion," he coughed. "But this 'ere parcel as come fer Is Ighness the Right And. Official Insignia of Office, or so I'm told. Yer to put em on and report to Is Majesty in reception room B." He handed me the package, then turned to Roland with a doleful expression. "Is it true wot I've eard, that you'll soon be leavin us, Gov?" "Yes, Wing, as soon as I've trained His Highness Prince Adler then I'll be off for some much needed R&R." He opened a door and pointed into a narrow, windowless chamber. "Ah, Nephew, this will be your room temporarily - if you find it suitable. It isn't very big, but it's clean." "I'll use it right now to change clothes, and let you know what I think of it," I said, ducking inside and shutting the door. ******************************************** I used Gramerye to persuade a spot on the wall to glow, and then I tore open the package. Inside I found a green satin uniform, a white tabard with a black hand emblazoned on it, a slender wooden backscratcher, and a floppy velvet object that looked like an oversized glove. 1Image: 0808thehand I stepped out of the room, wearing my new uniform. Wing and Roland coughed politely and stared at me with strangely expectant expressions. "I will need a lamp, a dresser, and a bed. With those, the room will be sufficient," I declared. "Am I wearing this right? How does it look?" "Um, you look quite andy in that, Yer Ighness," Wing snorted. "You'll need to put on the hat to complete the effect," Roland suggested. "You've got to be kidding," I groaned. "This is a hat??" I put it on. Wing and Roland erupted into gales of laughter. 2Image: 0808notfunny "HEY!" I objected. "I'm pretty sure it's not proper to laugh at an Officer of the Crown! I'm heading over to the Palace now, and when I get back I expect my room to be furnished. Also, find Agent Lemuel O'Possum and have him ready to report when I return." I hurried across the Grand Plaza to the Palace. A series of chuckling guards directed me to Reception Room B. When I arrived at the door, I could hear giggling within - and they hadn't even seen my silly hat yet! I took a deep breath and knocked on the door. "Enter!" Estmere yelled from inside the room. 3Image: 0808pimpest I entered the room and beheld the Privy Counselor, wearing nothing but the wool Fuma gave her, curled up in Estmere's lap. A tall, slinky doe in a negligee leaned languidly against an arm of the throne. "Hi," the Privy Counselor bleated cheerily. "Hey Bro, what's up?" Estmere greeted me. "And what in the Netherhells are you wearing? You look ridiculous." "You summoned me," I stated blankly. "What I'm wearing is supposed to be the regalia of the Right Hand of the King." "Well it looks awful. Get rid of that crap. Just throw it away or something. Except for the wand; that's pretty cool, right? Yeah, so keep the wand as a symbol of your authority, but the rest of that junk, especially the hat .. I dunno .. burn it, I guess." "Was there anything else you wanted?" I asked after several uncomfortable seconds of trying not to stare at the ungulate women. "No, not really," Estmere grinned. "I just wanted to touch base with you, see how you're doing, and .. well .. basically just tell you how totally awesome it is being King. Oh yeah, and I should introduce you to these ladies since you may have to work with them in your capacity as an Officer of the Court - but no touching, understand? I can get you some girls too if you want, just say the word and it's done, bro - but these two are mine, all right? Anyway, this is my Privy Counselor, Lana Lynne - and to my left is my Secretary, Dodie O'Doe." "Pardon me, Your Majesty," I muttered, aghast, "but are you sure these femmes are .. uh .. qualified to be Cabinet Ministers?" "Sure they are! Lana is simply full of great ideas, and Dodie can take dictation. Dodie, honey, read back that last bit from just before my brother arrived." The doe cleared her throat and read from a piece of paper: "Oh baby .. mmm .. yeah .. just like that .. oh yes .. don't stop .." "If there is nothing else you need from me at the moment," I interrupted, suddenly desperate to get out of this room, "I have an awful lot of stuff to do, getting situated in my new quarters and attending to business and whatnot." "Oh, sure, bro. Dismissed. Try not to work too hard!" 4Image: 0808ijustsaw GREAT FUMA'S WHISKERS! I shut the reception room door behind me and broke out in a cold sweat, even as I heard the sounds of muffled jollification resuming within. My brother, the King of Faerie, was clearly in the grip of some ferocious Wiles. Who were those ungulate femmes? Where did he find them? Who were they working for? This sounded exactly like the "Sisterhood" .. based on what little I knew of them. I was going to have to get Marshal Roland to show me how to do a background check, and find out everything I could about Lana Lynne and Dodie O'Doe. ************************************************* I wadded the tabard and hat into a ball and handed it to one of the Palace guards (with orders to burn it) as I hurried out and back across the Plaza to GHQ. "I'll be in my room," I announced, waving my ceremonial backscratcher at the first person I happened to see. "I don't wish to be disturbed until I send for Agent O'Possum. I have a lot of information I need to process and not much time to do it." As I stalked past, the elf saluted and scurried away to notify whoever needed to be told. I was pleased to observe that my room now had a lamp, dresser, and bed crammed into it. There was only just enough space to walk in, turn around, and shut the door. "Hast thou a moment to indulge me, my Prince?" the Ixie asked as soon as the door was closed. "What are you doing here?" I asked, surprised. "I thought you were supposed to be watching Alice Chetsweeks." "I assigned one of my sisters to watching her. The Vulpitanian automaton is standing around waiting for someone in front of her Embassy. Meanwhile, I have some unresolved business with thee." "I'm not sure I trust you," I admitted. "You always seem like you're up to something, like you have some ulterior motive. Just what are you hiding?" "My ovipositor, for one thing," she explained. "It seemed to disturb thee when thou sawest it before." 1Image: 0808forthee "Thou hast no intention of keeping our tryst, dost thou?" the Ixie asked grumpily. "Well, technically, I didn't agree to any tryst..." "Hmph. Elves. For a race so addicted to truth, thou sure art a suspicious and evasive bunch. Why dost thou not trust my affection?" "Well, you're some kind of secret agent, and I know you've been following me since the Ferifax explosion, if not before." "Is there any reason why I could not become enamored with the object of my surveillance?" "It doesn't seem professional." "Art thou serious?? I thought elves were supposed to be whimsical and carefree! Love knoweth naught of professionalism!!" "Well what about your professional relationship with Marshal Roland? You work for him, but would you ever make romantic overtures toward him?" "Of course not, but that's because he is an immense fat blob, not a svelte little hottie like thee." "I still think you're up to something." "Of course I am," she said with a wink. (Or was it a blink? It was hard to tell with the eyepatch.) "But the real question is, art thou up to it?" "Get out of here," I sighed with a dismissive wave of my hand. "I'm too busy to deal with you right now." "Perchance thou'lt deal with me later?" the Ixie asked hopefully. "I promise nothing," I said as I opened the door to let her out. Instead she flew into the wall and disappeared. I climbed onto the bed and tapped the wall at the spot where she vanished, but it seemed to be solid. She must have teleported. I couldn't spend any more time investigating, so I asked a passing officer to have Lemmy sent up to me. While I waited, I mulled over a few matters in my mind. I had to admit to myself that I was pretty much over Dame Chitterleigh ... but I needed to let her down gently, not only because of the respect I still had for her, but also due to my terror of what Meadow Grainmaster might do to me if I broke the squirrel Dame's heart. Probably the best way would be to make myself Too Busy, so I honestly wouldn't have time for Eudora. Then, when her affections had cooled, I could probably send a distraction to take her mind completely off of me. I was still considering the possibilities when Lemmy appeared. 2Image: 0808goteam "All right, Lemmy," I declared, sternly brandishing my backscratcher. "I have selected you as my special operative because I know you, and you're the only elf I really trust right now. If you can overcome your habit of playing possum when things get too hot, I know you can be one of Faerie's greatest Agents. You're cool, you're capable, you've got what it takes. Plus, if you prove yourself worthy, there's virtually no limit to the potential reward. My brother, the King, has made it known to me that he can get floozies on demand. So maybe there's a possum babe in your future. I don't know, but it's up to you to convince me to find out. The mission is this: I'm going to rendezvous with SALV Alice Chetsweeks outside the Vulpitanian Embassy. You are going to head over there now and start surveillance. You will stay in the shadows. She will not know you are there. I will arrive fifteen minutes after you. You will follow us wherever we go, maintain visual contact, and intervene if it looks like I'm in trouble. Can you handle it?" "Oh I have GOT this, Your Grace," Lemmy snarled, with a snappy salute and a tough-guy grin. Apparently he hadn't yet been briefed about my new title. (H) A short while later 3Image: 0808hialice I was walking down the sidewalk outside the Vulpitanian Embassy. "Ah, there you are, Your Highness," Miss Chetsweeks said with a friendly smile. "I'm so pleased you decided to come. Where would you like to go for dinner?" "How about you save the pleasantries and just tell me what you need to tell me," I grumbled. "I've had a very trying afternoon, and I'm exhausted." "All the more reason for you to come have a nice dinner and relax," Miss Chetsweeks insisted. "Okay, I guess we can go for hamwiches at the Officers' Cantina," I proposed. Miss Chetsweeks did not seem very enthusiastic about that plan. "Now that you're the Right Hand, and soon to be Grand Marshal, you can afford to treat yourself a little better, Your Highness," she explained. "Well, that's just it, you see ... I haven't been paid yet," I pointed out. "And the way Marshal Roland lives, I'm not sure the post comes with any financial remuneration." "I see," Miss Chetsweeks mused. "Very well, it will be my treat. I can expense it to the Vulpitanian Embassy. What do you say we go to Farouk's for some authentic Caer Adland cuisine?" "Fine, if you're buying," I acquiesced. "Lead the way. I still don't understand the point of this though." "All will be made clear soon enough, Your Highness," Miss Chetsweeks said with a mysterious smile. As I followed SALV Chetsweeks down the street, I contemplated today's events .. particularly Estmere's shameless cavorting (Sartorius-style) with his sexy new Cabinet Ministers .. and a disturbing thought came to me. I recalled what my mother had said about the Sisterhood favoring me for the throne, and that this could be accomplished without the need for assassination .. hmm .. the poisoning of King Gawain would suggest that someone got impatient, save for the fact that they used a poison that took eighteen years to do its work. More importantly, before the Ferifax Festival, my mother gave me a mission to seduce Zandar Skönk in order to prevent Estmere from producing heirs .. but Zandar never showed up. Meanwhile, Utica wooed Estmere, supposedly as a distraction to help me on my mission, but what if it had been more than that? Utica was clearly doing some sort of sinister body-magick with all those "conquest trophies" of hers. What if she put a spell on Estmere so he was only attracted to ungulates? But wait .. could Wiles even do that? Could they permanently alter an elf's personal preferences? I didn't think it was possible, unless patterns had already been formed much earlier in the victim's life. With a sudden shock, I recalled what Sir Ravenmad told me about my brother's upbringing: After his mother (Queen Persephone) disappeared, he was cared for by a nursemaid, specifically a "she-goat" named Nan! Estmere had been raised from a very early age to associate his ideals of nurturing femininity with HOOVES! ******************************************************** We arrived at the restaurant. A waiter seated us at a candlelit table on the sidewalk and handed me a menu. "You look perplexed," Miss Chetsweeks observed. "Have you never had Adlander food before?" "No, I haven't," I admitted, "but fortunately the menu gives descriptions of the dishes." I decided on a fried salad tossed with almonds, dates, and couscous. Miss Chetsweeks ordered a plate of kalamari and some orthodont liver pate. The salad came out almost immediately. I nibbled on it experimentally while Miss Chetsweeks spoke. "I have gained access to some information which might be of great interest to you in your new capacity," she began. "Actually, if I recall, you asked me once before about Sir Evan Klive and the Ferifax Arch." 1Image: 0811foodbad "Let's not talk about this openly right here on the sidewalk," I thought at Miss Chetsweeks with my Elfmind. "Why are you making that awful face?" she asked, alarmed. "Is the food really that bad?" "No," I said sheepishly. "It's delicious .. but I don't think we should discuss these matters aloud right here in the street." "Quite right," she agreed. "Someplace private would be better. Perhaps my quarters, after dinner?" 2Image: 0811staredown I scowled and leaned forward across the table. "Nice work on your eye," I observed gruffly. "Nobody who wasn't there would ever know a dagger had been stuck in it." "Vulpitanian doctors are some of the best," Miss Chetsweeks boasted, leaning toward me and blinking the eye. It was a very lovely eye .. it looked so real .. "Give it a rest, Miss Chetsweeks," I growled. "Please, call me Alice." "I know what you are. Vulpitanian doctors may be the best, but it was Vulpitanian mechanics who worked on you, isn't that right?" "It seems I can't hide anything from you, Your Highness," Alice grinned coolly. "Vulpitania's mechanics are even better than its doctors. My body is one of the most remarkable mechano-thaumaturgical creations ever made. It can do anything a real vixen can do." "ANYTHING," she whispered huskily, after a meaningful pause. "You wouldn't be luring me to your quarters to kill me, would you?" I asked perspicaciously. "I apologize for all of that," Alice sighed. "The situation has changed, so now assassinating you is no longer a priority." (H) Meanwhile, in a nearby alley: 3Image: 0811jealousy "What should I do?" Lemmy whispered despondently to himself. "Alice is evil; I shouldn't feel anything for her, but I can't stand watching her and the Prince flirting with each other! This is tearing me apart emotionally!" "Wait right here," the Ixie replied. "I'll take care of it." She flitted away toward the restaurant. 4Image: 0813whodat "WHO SAID THAT???" Lemmy whispered, looking around nervously. ****************************************************** Title: Dinner With SALV Chetsweeks "Why would my father's death change the priority of my assassination?" I asked. "The demise of King Gawain had no effect," Alice explained. "King Estmere legitimizing you changed everything. When you were just a bastard Duke you were fair game, but Vulpitania is hesitant to directly assassinate Royalty - mainly because we had to promise not to when we formed our alliance with the Empire. A change in tactics is needed, thus this rendezvous. I think you'll find I have much to offer you, Your Highness." 1Image: 0813almost This was so obviously a plot, I couldn't help but be intrigued by the sheer clumsy audacity of it. On the one hand, I'd had my fill of vixens with Yolanda, and I was tired of all these machinations - but then again, I had to admit I was curious what it would be like to make out with a machine. "You said your body can do anything," I purred, leaning closer and applying some Wiles. "Does that include reproduction?" "Well, er," Alice stammered, suddenly nervous. "I should have said, ALMOST anything. But you must admit, not even a real vixen would be able to do that with you, Your Highness." We were momentarily interrupted as the waiter brought Alice her plate of kalamari. "So, tell me about your trip to Athstead," she prompted, poking at her food. "I heard you encountered some bandits on the road, and you found something interesting in the river." 2Image: 0813buzzbuzz "Give me a piece of thy kalamari, or else I'll sting thee," the Ixie threatened as she suddenly appeared and buzzed around Alice's head. The vixen flinched momentarily until she got a good look at the insect. "Ladybirds can't sting," Alice pointed out, scornfully. "I can," the Ixie declared, menacingly. For a moment I thought I could see electric blue sparks on her hands. "Shall I burn thy tiny cogs and wires, or shall I blister thy tail?" "You insolent thing!" Alice snorted. "Fine, have a piece of kalamari, but I'll remember this." "Remember also that thou needest an appointment to discuss affairs of State with the Right Hand of the King." "And whom do I see to make an appointment?" Alice demanded tartly. "ME," the Ixie proclaimed. "Your Highness, what is this creature talking about?" Alice asked me. 3Image: 0813twinkle "It seems I have a secretary," I said, increasing my Wiles output for emphasis. "You really should make an appointment if you want to talk to the Hand. She can probably fit you into my schedule sometime next week. I have to prioritize, you see; there are lots of femmes wanting to 'make my acquaintance' if you know what I mean." 4Image: 0813madalice "Well, I've tried to be friendly," Alice grumped, "but you're clearly not taking my offer seriously in the spirit in which it was given. Well, I have information for you and I'm going to deliver it no matter what, so listen carefully. I don't feel inclined to repeat it. Firstly, the Ferifax Arch did exactly what the Klives designed it to do, but producing Crosslings was only a means to a far greater end. Secondly, Caer Adland seeks a stronger alliance, which you would be wise to investigate. Thirdly, King Estmere's cabinet ministers are not what they seem. And fourthly, there is a new Gap in Faerie that has been observed along the Eastern Road." *********************************************** 1Image: 0820furthermore "For what greater end was the Arch intended?" I asked, leaning closer and applying all my suave Charm. "And where exactly is this gap you speak of? Why are you offering this information so easily? What does Vulpitania stand to gain by calling these facts to my attention?" "I've told you all I'm going to tell you," the vixen replied. "Now now, Alice," I purred seductively. "I would prefer that you call me Miss Chetsweeks," she answered coldly. "If it's really a dinner you wanted, you know I am an excellent cook," I reminded her, with a Roguish Glint. "I have tasted your stew," Miss Chetsweeks replied. "And though it is excellent, your offer does not tempt me." I was surprised and fascinated by the vixen's apparent ability to resist my wiles. The stronger I made them, the less attracted she seemed to be. "Thou wouldst still have to make an appointment, in any case," the Ixie chimed in. "Well, if you've delivered your message, then I suppose this meeting is over," I sighed, getting up from the table. "I would advise you to watch your back, SALV Chetsweeks. I don't take very kindly to Vulpitanian plotting, and my opinion will influence Imperial Policy once I am Grand Marshal." "We may be Unseelie, but we are above all an honorable people, Your Highness," Miss Chetweeks insisted as I walked away. As I strolled back toward GHQ, I considered what the Vulpitanian had told me. Miss Chetsweeks didn't reveal anything I didn't already know concerning the Ferifax Arch. Sir Evan himself had intimated that it had a secret purpose, even more sinister than the making of elf/lowfolk Crosslings ... more specifically, the Crosslings themselves seemed to have had some sinister purpose. I couldn't think what it could have been, but I guessed I probably should try considering the question from a Vulpitanian point of view. What would they stand to gain? What were their goals? I didn't know much about the province of Vulpitania. I needed to ask my great-uncle for more information, and get the Master of Elfhame to lend his magickal expertise to a study of the Arch plans. The Caer Adland situation seemed like a simple matter of Statecraft .. but if they sought to strengthen their relationship with Albric Tor, why approach me? Until recently, I was just a lowly Bastard ... but I recalled Mara Supial mentioning that somebody in Caer Adland was willing to pay to have me delivered to them, even before my unexpected rise in station. Could there have been a connection between the attempted kidnapping and the desired alliance? But again, why would they want me? This was obviously a matter for the King and his diplomatic council. Then again, if Caer Adland had an intelligence agency worth anything, they must have known that Estmere was a bit of an oaf, and his counselors (what few of them he had so far appointed) were all floozies. Speaking of floozies, I needed to get a background check on all of Estmere's appointees. Maybe Lemmy could handle that. Out of everything Alice said, what interested me most was this Gap on the Eastern road. I had never heard of such a phenomenon. It sounded like something I should see for myself. I arrived at GHQ to find Uncle Roland pacing the halls. 2Image: 0820need2talk "I need to find out more about Vulpitania, its history and political structure," I informed the Marshal. "Also I want to consult with the Master of Elfhame." "Winterbough has resigned," Roland replied moodily. "Well on his way back to Elfhame by now, I'm afraid. And believe me, that buck has well earned his retirement." "Whaa?" I boggled. "All of the Blood Seals deactivated when King Gawain died," Roland informed me. "They will need to be renewed - assuming any of the old operatives wish to stay on. You might as well be part of that process; help familiarize yourself with the workings of the department, meet your agents, all that sort of thing." "I have learned that there's a Gap in Faerie somewhere along the Eastern road," I mentioned. "If there is, then it's a new one," Roland muttered. "This is not a good sign." "A new one? You mean there are others? How come I've never heard of this before?" "It's high time I debriefed you on your Quest," Roland mused. "Do you still have the tail comb with you?" 3Image: 0820handback "Beg pardon, Yer Ighnesses," Wing said with a polite cough. "This 'ere appears to be Prince Adler's 'at, which I found 'angin on the door to yer office not 'alf a moment ago, Sir." 4Image: 0825ignore I was tempted to leave Wing standing there with the hat in his hand. There was no rule that said I had to take the thing, was there? ************************************************** "Sir?" Wing ased cheerily. "Yer Ighness? Don't you want yer 'at, Sir? I believe, as Right And of the King, you are obliged to take it." 1Image: 0825gimmethat I snatched the hat from the overly polite Sergeant. "Yes, thank you Wing," I sniffed imperiously. "Did you happen to see who left it here?" "No Sir, like I said, I found it 'angin on the doorknob." I shook the hat carefully to dislodge any Ixies that might be hiding inside. Nothing fell out. I wondered how the hat had been returned to me. Was it an enchanted, or perhaps a Divine object? Maybe the guard simply disobeyed my orders to burn it. Or maybe it was lured back to me by the Wiles that Miss Chetsweeks deflected. No, that last one was ridiculous. Most likely my Wiles didn't work on her because Miss Chetsweeks was cunning and has practiced building up an immunity. Plus, since her body was artificial, trying to overpower her in such a way would be as futile as wooing a door. I had to remember, next time (hopefully there wouldn't BE a next time) I should concentrate my energy on Alice's tail, since that was the only part of her that could actually feel. I checked the Hand hat for enchantments and psychometric signatures. I discovered some very interesting facts - 1. The "hat" was originally crafted as a glove for a very large hand. 2. It had been enchanted with an anti-lose spell that was activated when I wore it. 3. One of the previous Right hands of the king had placed an interesting message in the fabric of the spell. The only problem being that it required a mustache-related bodily key to decipher. - but I didn't have time to follow up on my findings. My great-uncle cleared his throat impatiently and gestured toward his office. You stow the hat in my Elfintory for safekeeping, since I apparently was going to be unable to get rid of it. "What's a Blood Seal?" I asked as I followed Marshal Roland down the hall. "It's a badge of authority issued to special operatives in service to the Crown," Roland explained. "The Seal is enchanted with a small amount of the bearer's blood, binding it to that elf as a guarantee of authenticity." "Does it have to be blood?" I asked, slightly queasy at the thought. "I suppose it would be possible to use other bodily fluids, but blood is traditional. It is by far the most dignified of any alternatives I can think of at the moment." We entered the Marshal's office and he shut the door. "The Irenaeus tail comb, please," he demanded, holding out his hand. I reach into my Elfintory and pulled out the replica comb I had bought in Athstead. 2Image: 0825nicetry "Very amusing, Nephew," Roland smirked. "This is a cheap souvenir replica. Please tell me you have not lost the real tail comb." I sheepishly pulled out the authentic comb and handed that one to my great-uncle. 3Image: 0825damaged "ADLER!" the Marshal rumbled. "I thought I stressed to you that this item was a priceless antique! Why are there teeth missing? It was fully intact when I loaned it to you!" "Well ..." I wheedled, "on the way to Athstead, we were waylaid by bandits. I hid in the coach, and .. I started to panic .. I blacked out .. when I came to my senses, I had my bow in my hand, and three bandits had been felled by four arrows. The same number of teeth are missing from the comb. When I tried to retrieve the arrows from the corpses, they disappeared! The arrows I mean, not the corpses." "Very interesting," Roland murmured thoughtfully. "I didn't expect anything like this." "If I may ask, why did you loan me the comb in the first place?" "I expected you to use it as a magickal component to help guide you to Irenaeus' birthplace. You did find the actual Birthplace, I hope?" For a moment I considered answering with a dramatic practical demonstration of my newly-learned powers of Transmogrification. But then I realized that turning into a mer-elf in the middle of my great-uncle's office would be more awkward and embarrassing than impressive. It would also probably mess up my new uniform; and now that I was an Elf of Some Importance, I would have to pay a bit more attention to my appearance. 4Image: 0828fixwhiskers I nervously tugged at my whiskers before realizing that this could be mistaken for a villainous gesture, especially since I was taking such a long time to respond to my great-uncle's question. I quickly brought my hand down, away from my face. "Well, Sir, I either found the Birthplace, or I experienced an extremely vivid and detailed hallucination," I stated cryptically. "How do you mean?" Roland prompted. "Have you ever had," I paused dramatically, " ... chokeweed pie??" "I presume you're implying that you ate chokeweed pie," Roland deduced. "Where in the world did you get it, and more importantly, WHY?" "A murderous cephalopod basically forced it upon me when I accidentally visited the mer-elves' home," I explained. "But surely you know Fred and Ethel, the custodians of Irenaeus' Birthplace?" "Fred and Ethel? Are those their names?" Roland asked, with apparent surprise. ****************************************************** "Oh please, Uncle," I scoffed impatiently. "Don't play coy with me. I am reasonably certain that you were the so-called Fat Pilgrim in the Diving Suit, and you asked Fuma for the Boon of Wisdom." 1Image: 0828rolandstare Marshal Roland fixed me with an intense stare. "Who told you that?" he asked. "Who would you guess it was?" I evaded. "I don't care to theorize on such scant evidence," Roland sighed. "Please, Nephew, this is not the time for games. Just tell me." "Well, the mer-folk described to me the two previous Pilgrims," I admitted. 2Image: 0901twirl "But more importantly," I continued, twirling my whiskers for emphasis, "the information was confirmed by a, shall we say, very famous, very private, very powerful, and very beautiful femme. When she wasn't snuggling me, of course." 3Image: 0901uhhuh "Uh huh," Roland grunted. "Well, I'm not entirely sure who that could be ... did this mysterious femme mention me by name?" "Er, well, no," I admitted. "Neither Pilgrim was mentioned by name, but all the evidence points to it being you. The Boon of Wisdom would be so useful for your job, and you being the Pilgrim would explain why you're so good at being Grand Marshal, as well as you knowing about the Birthplace to send me on the quest in the first place. Are you saying it wasn't you?" "No, I am not saying that," Roland sighed. "I was just hoping that my Great-nephew hadn't just referred to Lady Fuma in such irreverent terms." 4Image: 0901fatboy "In my youth," Roland continued, "far longer ago than I'd care to admit now, I happened upon the legend of Irenaeus' Birthplace, and resolved to find it for myself. After quite a bit of difficulty, I managed to obtain a suit of Submersible Armor. Beastly uncomfortable, but it did allow me to walk on the river bottom without drowning. I met one of your mer-elves but was unable to communicate with him, as the armor was impervious to sound as well as to Elfmind. I found the menhir and met the Lady. I chose the Boon of Wisdom from the three she offered, and she bound me with a geas to protect the realm, safeguarding Faerie and its people from evil. Which Boon did you choose, and what obligation did the Lady place on you?" "I chose Luck," I stated. "And she geased me to correct the Mistake." "Mistake?" Roland exclaimed with a start. "What Mistake?" "I don't know. She just said 'the Mistake' and that I must try to correct it, or face the Netherhells." "This is extremely troubling," Roland muttered grimly. "I'm also concerned that you may not have been as discreet as I'd hoped. How many people, exactly, know of your Quest?" ***************************************************** 1Image: 0906counting "Hmm," I thought, as I tallied up the witnesses. "Fred and Ethel and Finnia, the mer-elves ... Rivermaster Izzie the Inswiminator, and via him possibly other members of the Frolic Club ... Watch Cadet Theronmyathus ... maybe Evil Lieutenant Mara Supial ... the monk at the Birthplace Shrine ... Sir Ravenmad ... one of your Ixies ... a deranged albino bard ... Agent O'Possum of course ... Detective Glenholm Webb might have deduced it ... SALV Chetsweeks of the Vulpitanian Embassy found out somehow ... several souvenir merchants ... apparently the Aldermen of Athstead know all about it too, since they tried to have me killed ... let me see, who else ... oh yeah, Yolanda was there, and -" 2Image: 0906losesit "GREAT FUMA'S EVER-FRAGRANT RUMP!!!" Roland bellowed. "Give me the list of everyone who doesn't know; it's probably shorter! I'm surprised you didn't publish an announcement in the Royal Gazette while you were at it! Nephew, you have GOT to learn how to be circumspect! You've lived a sheltered life up til now, but the Unseelie are not playing games! You have to protect yourself, and the Empire's interests! Discretion does not mean casually blabbing your secret plans to everyone you meet. It means the opposite of that!" "Well how was I supposed to find the Birthplace without talking to anyone about it?" I retorted defensively. "I expected you to use the comb to guide you there," Roland snapped. "Not to ask everyone you met for directions." "It may not be all bad," I suggested hopefully. "I managed to convey to most of the people there that I was a bit of a bumbling fool." "One must wonder how you ever managed to do that," Roland quipped scornfully. "It means that very few of the witnesses took me seriously," I insisted. "Except for the Aldermen, who, as I said, tried to have me killed. But the only people who know about my encounter with Fuma are the mer-folk (whom nobody ever talks to) and Estvan Silverbrush, who seemed to already know about it anyway." "Estvan was there?" Roland asked, surprised. "What was he doing? Did he say why he came?" "He said he was doing Fuma's bidding, and that the Gazer monks had sent him. He was only too happy to get away from home; did you know the Vulpitanians married him to Yolanda the changeling?" "Remarkable," Roland muttered, half to himself. "Could that old fox be at the back of all this? What's his involvement?" "Uncle," I intruded into the Marshal's thoughts, "I ingested a large amount of chokeweed before touching the menhir. Could my vision of Fuma have been a hallucination caused by that, or maybe by some sort of vapor issuing from the spring there?" "IMPOSSIBLE," Roland snapped. "Fuma's manifestations are NOT due to hallucinogenic vapors. Where did you even hear that? I was sealed inside the Submersible Armor, so there's no way I could have been exposed to anything in the water, nor to any Elfmind or standard magick. And I nibbled a single stranglewort leaf before diving - not enough to have any noticeable effect. Fuma's appearance had to have been caused by none other than the Lady herself." "How high is a roebuck?" I asked suddenly, out of nowhere. "What?" Roland responded, his train of thought abruptly derailed. "I, um, I suppose it varies according to the individual. Why do you ask?" "Detective Webb asked me, and I thought the question might have some significance," I shrugged. "But, changing the subject, Kings' brothers are discouraged from siring children aren't they? But I like to, ah, sport with the ladies, if you know what I mean ... do you have any advice on how to handle that?" "Just don't 'sport' with any skunk ladies and you'll be fine," Roland remarked with a dubious expression. "Stick with females of other species; you can't sire children on them. ..nor on males, obviously, if you happen to be into that sort of thing." "I am most definitely not into that sort of thing," I declared with some vehemence. "But I am being bothered by that Ixie of yours; I think she is called Ladybird or Ann Ominous? Her flirting crosses the line into harassment. Is there anything that can be done about that?" "I've never heard of such a thing happening before. I'll have a word with her about it." "Uh ... while we're on the subject of Sport," I awkwardly segued, "are there any lovers of yours that I should stay away from? I mean, I wouldn't want to intrude on your relationships, and forewarned is forearmed .. and so on .." "At this stage in my life there is no need for you to worry about that," Roland answered coldly. 3Image: 0911howcome "Very well then, Uncle," I wryly remarked. "To return to the previous topic; if you had wanted me to use the comb to find the Birthplace, you could have said so." "Part of the purpose of a Quest is to test your ingenuity," Roland retorted sternly. "You are supposed to find a solution on your own. It's NOT meant to test your ability at following instructions. And stop twirling your whiskers; it's a very unsavory habit." "Sorry," I said, quickly bringing my hand away from my face. Had I been doing this all the time and not been aware of it? The next few seconds seemed to drag on endlessly as my great-uncle and I stared at each other. I could see the disapproval in his expression. By Fuma, this was even more uncomfortable than when he was interrogating me after the Ferifax Arch explosion! ***************************************************** Finally I couldn't take it any longer. "Please, Uncle," I beseeched. "I'm completely bewildered by all these events and all this information! For the love of Fuma, can't you just tell me what is going on?" "If I knew that, I wouldn't need to tell you," Roland remarked. "But perhaps a review of the facts will help us discover something we've overlooked. I'll start with a bit of history, since these are things you probably don't already know." 1Image: 0911howdoo "When I went to Athstead in search of the Birthplace, Estvan Silverbrush appeared and offered me his assistance in the Lady's name." "Hold on!" I interrupted. "What's all this you were saying about discretion and Quests being tests of mettle, when it turns out Estvan helped you too, just like he helped me?" "Unlike you, I told no-one of my objective. Estvan seemed somehow to already know everything about it. He was dressed in such a ridiculous outfit, and he acted so strangely, I was ready to dismiss him as a madman. To this day, I am not entirely ready to rule out that possibility ... however, he demonstrated to me that he was incredibly powerful, so I decided it would be best to humor him. Later I learned that he is incredibly ancient; he's one of very few survivors from the Long Ago, and unlike the others, he shows no signs of age or decrepitude. He claims that a group of lowfolk once worshiped him as a god, and I have no reason to doubt that. Even back in his heyday, elves did not lie." "I suspect Estvan was a Pilgrim to the Birthplace soon after it flooded," I interjected. "Fuma described the first pilgrim as a 'scoundrel in fishy guise' and said he had received the Boon of Power. The mer-elves also described the first Pilgrim as one in a fishy disguise, and Fred said he thought Estvan looked familiar ... but Estvan stated that he had never seen mer-elves before." "I suppose he could have gone to the Birthplace and been observed without seeing the merfolk himself," Roland mused. "But this means he would have visited the Birthplace not all that long before I did, because the Athafon changed course near the end of my great-grandfather Carl's reign. Before that event, the Birthplace was not submerged; there would have been no merfolk, and no need for a fishy disguise." "It makes me wonder why Fuma only mentioned two pilgrims," I interjected again. "Wouldn't lots of people have visited the Birthplace when it was above water, during the centuries between Irenaeus and Carl?" "Perhaps it became more important to Fuma after it flooded," Roland suggested. "The extra difficulty of access might serve to make each visitor that much more special. But, to return to my story: I thought the Lady's geas to protect Faerie might have something to do with the Gaps. Thin spots in the fabric of Faerie had been detected in my grandfather Otho's reign. Some of them took the form of invisible, impassible obstacles, sometimes described as 'chunks of frozen air' which, when examined, gave off no magickal resonance - not even the faint residual magick that pervades all of Faerie. Some of them grew and worsened until they became holes in the realm, in which nothing existed. Sizeable chunks of Faerie simply weren't there anymore. It was suspected that one of these might have caused the Athafon to change course, but it was never officially observed. During the reign of my father, Sartorius, the Gaps seemed to heal - and the few elves who knew about them quickly forgot them. But a new problem began to manifest. When my brother, Adler, ascended to the throne, one of his first acts was to take a census of the Empire. Despite (as far as we could tell) a still-healthy amount of venery, it seemed elves' birth rates were dropping and our population was declining. Meanwhile lowfolk were breeding copiously and overrunning parts of their world which we used to claim as our own outlying territory. We also discovered that magickal ability, once common among us, was becoming rare." 2Image: 0911plans "This was when Egdelwon Klive came to us from Vulpitania with a plan for combining the vital essence of lowfolk with that of our changeling offspring, to infuse Elfkind with new vitality. My brother and I were horrified at the details of the plan, which involved sacrificing the swaplings and trapping their souls in the thaumaturgical mechanism of the Arch. Adler, inspired by ancient tradition, instead opted to pursue a lowfolk Interbreeding Initiative - but the results were, shall we say, less than desirable. Later during his reign, the spots of 'frozen air' began to be observed once again. After my brother died and your father, Gawain, became King, the Vulpitanian once again presented his plan. Gawain had always been quiet and rather ruthless, if I may be frank in my assessment of him. He approved the plan, and work began on the new Ferifax Arch. Egdelwon was killed in a rather suspicious magickal accident, and his son Evan took over the project. The rest, I think you know." "Sir Evan and SALV Chetsweeks both intimated to me that producing half-elven crosslings was just the means to a more sinister end," I added. "At first glance it looks like an attempt to discredit the Imperial throne," Roland theorized. "As a gesture of trust, Gawain himself married a noble skunkess who had undergone the crossling treatment. As promised, she proved fertile, quickly producing a healthy son. Estmere is strong and, er, vivacious, but again, if I may be frank - and these remarks must never be repeated outside this room - he seems a bit dull-witted, and he has absolutely no magickal power. Queen Persephone was spirited away by persons unknown soon after his birth. The case has never been successfully resolved, though there is a conspiracy theory regarding an organization called 'The Sisterhood' which I would be most inclined to believe, if there was a shred of solid evidence in support of it." 3Image: 0911ohmavis "Poor Gawain had always been unlucky in love. He had a passionate fling with a ballerina when he was still the Crown Prince, but she became a target for a group of religious fanatics and ended up requesting, on her own behalf, that the Court officially banish her from Faerie. Nobody knows what happened to her after that. Later, after the loss of Queen Persephone, Gawain became deeply depressed - eventually falling for the charms of your mother, Mavis, who had rather suspiciously (or providentially, depending on your perspective) been assigned to the housekeeping staff of the Royal Private Quarters. You were born as a result of that tryst. Mavis argued vehemently against sending you off to be a changeling; I think the King's affection for her was as much a reason as her logic in securing Royal permission to raise you here in Faerie." I nodded at this but said nothing. "And now, here we are," Roland concluded. "There is a crossling on the Imperial Throne, the full-blooded Elfish Bastard has been legitimized and bears a geas from Fuma to correct 'the Mistake' (whatever that means), and a new Gap has been observed on the Eastern road, not far from the capital." ********************************************* Super-Sized Info Break! The preceding conversation with Roland Sartoriusson generated lots of questions regarding the Imperial Succession, so let me edify you as best I can with an official list of High Kings of Faerie, gleaned from the chronicles, ballads, epics, and lays. Before Irenaeus there were no High Kings. Elves lived in chaotic savagery in a semi-legendary time known as the Long Ago. The region around what is now known as Albric Tor was inhabited by the fierce Balemist tribe of skunk-elves. Their chief Waftvapr and his wife Obnoxia gave birth to Irenaeus, who would grow up to conquer the surrounding lands and become the first Emperor. He was known variously as Irenaeus Lacktail (in honor of losing his tail early in his career of conquest) or Irenaeus the Bloodthirsty (in honor of his personal conduct.) Irenaeus begat Athanasius through his wife Aelfhilde of Frostheim. Athanasius was known as 'the Intemperate' mainly because of his personal habits. Athanasius begat Yngvar the Cunning. Yngvar was devious and sneaky. Yngvar begat Thorwald the Cautious. Thorwald was extremely neurotic and insisted on having the most thorough and complete information before making any decision. He codified into law the ancient Elvish custom of truth-telling. He also established the Office of Definitive Veracity with its spies and its scrying-towers, in order to obtain that elusive Thorough and Complete Information which he so fervently desired. Thorwald was perhaps TOO cautious; he died without fathering an heir. His wife ruled as Queen Regent for a while. Some historians flippantly refer to her as Greta the Feminine, the fourth-and-a-half Monarch of Faerie. Eventually she married a nobleman named Svengalius of Persoc Tor. Svengalius and Greta begat Lotharius the Skeevy, who ascended to the throne as soon as he came of age. His reign was not noteworthy. Lotharius begat Roland the Dutiful, another in a series of bland Emperors during an epoch historians refer to as the Dull Ages. Roland begat Carl the Adequate. An unconfirmed Gap is suspected as the cause of the river Athafon changing course and flooding the ancient village of Aethstad near the end of Carl's reign. Carl begat Otho the Negligent. The Gaps were officially observed for the first time during Otho's reign. He did not seem to care. Otho begat Sartorius the Dissolute, and the Dull Ages came to an abrupt end. Sartorius squandered the resources of the Empire on a life of nonstop debauchery, and most of his nobles were happy to emulate him. No Gaps were reported; very little of lasting worth was accomplished, except for perhaps the beginning of a series of illustrated scrolls and codices chronicling the imaginary adventures of Jane, the Lowfolk Femme. According to legend, Sartorius himself wrote the script for the first issue. Sartorius begat Adler the Prudent. This wise and capable king was pretty much the exact opposite of his wastrel father. He got the Empire back into shape and began acquiring new territory - this time by treaty rather than by military conquest. Adler I began his reign by taking a census of the Empire - by which he discovered precisely to what extent the Elfish population was declining. He launched the ill-fated Lowfolk Interbreeding Initiative and officially promoted the old Changeling practice of swapping children with the lowfolk. Adler I dissolved the Office of Definitive Veracity due to a lack of qualified staff, and incorporated its function into Military Intelligence under the command of his equally capable younger brother, Grand Marshal Roland. Gaps began once again to be observed late in Adler I's reign. Adler I begat Gawain the Quiet. Taciturn and moody, this king accepted the sinister Vulpitanian Changeling Intitiative designed by Egdelwon Klive, officially mandating that children be sent away as Changelings. Gaps continued to be seen sporadically during Gawain's comparatively brief reign. He was assassinated via a very slow-acting poison. Gawain begat Estmere by his wife Persephone, who mysteriously disappeared soon after the Prince was born. She was a half-elven Crossling (the result of the Klives' pernicious process), meaning that her son bore mixed blood of a heretofore unknown nature. Gawain also begat a pure-elf bastard, Adler Young (that's me!), as the result of a tryst with a house servant named Mavis MacFogg. And that's pretty much where we are right now in the story. Now, anyone casually perusing this list might conclude that the lineage of Irenaeus ended with Thorwald. That isn't quite right, even though historians commonly refer to the sequence of the first four Kings as the "First Empire" as if it were somehow discontinuous with the dynasty that followed afterward. First off, it is erroneous to assume that just because only one heir can inherit the throne, that each Emperor only had one son. Despite the apparent tidiness of the official list of succession, most of these Kings actually had numerous brothers and sisters who were either assassinated or shunted off into duchies and military sinecures far from the Capital. (This of course does not take into account an unknown number of illegitimate offspring, who were ignored because - unlike in my time, when elves were distressingly infertile - back in the old days there were plenty of legitimate heirs to choose from.) Svengalius of Persoc Tor was a cousin of the royal family, very far down the list of potential claimants to the throne. Queen Greta herself was also related, and was higher on the chain of succession - i.e. had a better claim to the throne than anyone else, bolstered by the fact that she was the Emperor's widow. Marrying Svengalius was a way of securing the dynasty. I'm sure you lowfolk are familiar with the concept of royal inbreeding, since you borrowed from us the notion that nobility must marry other nobility. After a few generations they are all blood kin to each other. Also, I should point out that Svengalius never became High King. He was the Royal Consort. Queen Greta remained Regent until her son Lotharius came of age. My mother was not descended from the Irenaeid line, as far as anyone knows. If it could have been proven that she was related, then my father would have been permitted to marry her, and I would have grown up as a legitimate Duke instead of a Bastard. There were additional questions about whether Unseelie parents produce Seelie offspring, which indicates than many of you are still Not Getting It about Seeliness / Unseeliness. Heredity plays a very small role in defining an elf's moral character. In general, one is most likely to resemble one's parents in this regard, but it's not always the case. Technically an elf cannot choose his or her alignment, however an Unseelie elf can decide to behave in a morally 'good' way. It does not work in the other direction, though. As I think I've said before, you cannot do wicked deeds and be Seelie. ****************************************************** 1Image: 0921iknow "UNCLE!" I declared with sudden energy. "THERE REALLY IS A SISTERHOOD!" Marshal Roland leaned toward me with an intense stare. 2Image: 0921oops "Oh, um, er," I floundered. "That is, what I meant to say was ..." "If you know something, lad, best tell me right now," Roland stated with an eerie, menacing calm. All the secrets I had been hiding for so long came bursting out in a flood of relief. "According to Sir Ravenmad, the Sisterhood was founded by Desiderata. My mother told me that Sheila na Gig, the apostate, is their current leader. She and Utica the Huntress studied together at Sheila's School of Wiles when they were younger. She all but admitted to me that the Sisterhood put her in the palace to seduce my father, and also that they conspired to get rid of Queen Persephone. Utica was using her wiles on Estmere in order to prevent him from breeding. Their plan was to eventually put me on the throne. They have agents everywhere, and they may be in league with the F.E.L.F. but apparently the two groups are not entirely in agreement, because the Ferifax Arch was not supposed to be blown up." "Do you have proof of any of this?" the Marshal asked. "It's all true," I insisted hotly. "What are you insinuating? Elves do not lie!" "I know that, but Thorwald's law also requires solid evidence," Roland grumbled. "You don't have any, do you? I didn't think so. You see, I've heard lots of rumors and reports like yours, but nobody ever has so much as a speck of tangible evidence." "What about Utica's hunting trophies?" I asked. "Aren't those evidence?" "Proof only of the Huntress's perverse mastery of Wiles," Roland shrugged. "Nothing about them points to the existence of a shadowy Sisterhood." I momentarily reflected on the possibility of my own Wiles being evidence of the Sisterhood, but that didn't seem like the kind of proof that would hold up in a Court of Law - and besides, I wasn't going to voluntarily admit my Wiliness to anyone! "What about the letter they planted in Dame Chitterleigh's apartment?" I asked. "And speaking of that ... who was it that tipped you off about it? The timing of that seemed highly suspicious to me." "As I told you, I was informed by an Ominous Orse. The letter mentioned F.E.L.F. but said nothing about the Sisterhood." "What is F.E.L.F. anyway?" I asked. "On the way to Athstead I heard some elves speaking favorably of that organization." "The Free Elves Liberation Front is a ragtag anti-Imperial group," Roland sighed. "They believe that the Empire is Fuma's Mistake and that elves should live wild and free as they did in the Long Ago. Their mission is to topple the Empire and break Faerie up into an unruly chaos of independent tribal states." "You and Estmere may be in danger from them ... and the Sisterhood ... if their goal is to put me on the throne, then as long as I am alive ..." I trailed off with a nervous look at my Great-uncle. "This is a danger that already existed," Roland shrugged. "What you're telling me changes nothing in that regard - but any information you can share will help us better to formulate a plan of defense." "I suggest doing thorough background checks on Estmere's floozies - I mean, Cabinet Ministers," I urged. "Something about them seems very suspicious." "The same thought has already occurred to me," Roland agreed. "I'm in danger too," I continued. "The Vulpitanians wanted to kill me - and probably still do, but Estmere legitimizing me put a hitch in their plans, since apparently part of their treaty requires that they NOT assassinate Imperial royalty. Alice Chetsweeks was in Athstead when I was there, and I don't know why. ... for that matter, the Master of Elfhame has been showing up everywhere I go, too. Why is that?" "I asked him to keep an eye on you," the Marshal admitted. "Agent O'Possum, as you observed, is really not very good." "WHA?" I boggled. "Yes, yes, I had an inept agent assigned to you in order to distract you from the real watchers. At the time, we thought you were up to no good. I still don't know why your pockets were full of dried mushrooms - the same kind of mushrooms that were used to poison King Gawain." "I found them in the Hall of Ancestors," I insisted. "Mom sent me there to find the Old Crow's monument. You know it couldn't have been me! The poison was given 18 years ago!" The Marshal scowled at me thoughtfully but said nothing. "Does Lemmy know he was just a decoy?" I asked, after getting my breath back. "No. But speaking of agents, did Mavis mention any of the Sisterhood operatives? That might give us a new avenue of investigation." "Well, when she was talking about the Old Crow, she mentioned that the agent sent out to find him was also working for the Sisterhood," I recalled. "Did she?" Roland mused, with a mysterious eyebrow movement. "Very interesting. I shall look into that. But for now, it might be a good idea for you to go investigate that new Gap on the East road." "Do you have any idea what's causing the Gaps?" I asked. "Is there any pattern to their timing or geographical distribution?" "There is no pattern that my people were able to detect," Roland stated. "The Gaps seem to occur at random." "Could they be correlated to fluctuations in magickal energy?" "The only thing magickal about them is their total lack of magick." "Is it possible that the missing pieces of Faerie are being shifted to another plane of reality? Are there corresponding holes in the lowfolk world?" "We don't know if the Gaps are shifted to another plane, because we have no way of observing them from that hypothetical plane," Roland explained. "But we do know for certain there are no matching Gaps in the Low world. We have had to go there in order to travel around the Gaps in Faerie. You really should go and see it for yourself, Nephew. Maybe you'll notice something I and my investigators have overlooked. I shall arrange a chaise to take you to the site; you'll find it waiting outside." I walked down the hall toward the street door, where I encountered Lemmy coming in the other direction. He didn't look well. "I'm heading out to inspect the Gap on the East road," I told him. "Do you want to come along?" 3Image: 0921section8 "Honestly, Your Grace," Lemmy groaned, nervously wringing his hat, "I need to get checked out by the Alienist. I think I'm cracking up." "How do you mean?" "I've started hearing voices," the possum whispered dramatically. I shrugged and left Lemmy to his worries as I stepped outside onto the street. I saw a nice, fast-looking military chaise parked by the curb. The driver tipped his cap and I climbed aboard. 4Image: 0921yoohoo As soon as the vehicle started moving, I heard a buzzing by my head, and a familiar voice murmured, "how fareth my Prince this day? Art thou going on an important mission? May I accompany thee? Anything thou desirest, thou hast but to ask it of me ... if it is in my power, I'll do it. Especially if thou desirest it passionately." Wow. The Ixie's lines just kept getting cornier and cornier every time I saw her. ******************************************************* At this point I decided I'd had just about enough of whatever little game this Ixie was playing. I was going to call her bluff. Either she would stop pestering me, or .. well .. I guess I would find out what it was like to tussle with an Ixie. Sure, she was kind of skeevy, but I couldn't deny I was curious. It was unlikely that she could do anything worse to me than Sheila na Gig did. Plus who knows, it might be fun! "Sure, you can tag along," I said, with a Roguish Twinkle in my eye. "If you're good, and if you can tuck that ovipositor of yours away somewhere out of sight, I might have some special use for you later." 1Image: 0921ohjoy "OHHHH!" the Ixie squealed with a tiny shiver of delight. "Be still my heart! Mayhap he doth not despise me after all! I beseech thee, do not get my hopes up for naught - but instead for naughty! Use me as thou wishest, my lord; I am thy servant and thy plaything!" I pondered for the briefest of moments the fact that I had come on this mission unarmed. Sure, I had my bow, and it had proven to be lethally effective against bandits .. but I still wasn't carrying any arrows, and now I didn't even have a comb! The Ixie buzzed happily in loops around my head as I stepped down from the chaise and surveyed the scene of the Gap. 2Image: 0921lookwho "Well, begorrah!" Estvan exclaimed. "Look here who it is! Tis the fresh-minted Prince Adler his own self! How's the Hand business going for you so far, me boyo?" 3Image: 0924thishat "Pretty much all that's happened so far," I explained, "is that I've spoken to the King and his personal ministers, and I've gotten my Regalia of Office, which consists mainly of this ridiculous hat. It's enchanted in such a way that apparently I can't get rid of it." "I do believe that's a First Empire relic," Sir Ravenmad enthused. "Might I be permitted to examine it, Your Highness?" "I don't see why not," I shrugged, handing the hat to the be-feathered eccentric. "What brings you out here, if I may ask? It seems we're always meeting by the strangest coincidences." "It does seem that way, doesn't it?" Ravenmad chuckled. "Occasionally, when I grow weary of the bustle of urban life, I like to wander the pastoral countryside of Faerie and bask in the beauty of its fields and meadows, its quiet sylvan glens and rolling hills. Plus, I heard Master Winterbough was returning home, and I wanted to give him a proper send-off, perhaps a retirement party at his ancestral hall... OH MY! There's a secret message encoded in this hat!" 4Image: 0924ravenreads "IT'S SIMPLY DANDY," Sir Ravenmad read. "SERVING THE KING" "YOU'LL FIND IT HANDY" "TO WEAR THIS THING." "THERMA-SHAVE" "What does that mean?" I asked. "I'm not sure," Ravenmad admitted with a shrug. "But in all likelihood -" ***************************************************** 1Image: 0924preposterous "Balderdash!" Estvan exclaimed, snatching the hat away from Sir Ravenmad and handing it back to me. "You'll not be fillin' the lad's head with your fabulistical blather, Lucian! Had good King Thorwald not made an exception for Fiction, you'd not be an elf at all, at all!" "You wound me, sir," Ravenmad pouted. "That you can say that after what we've been through -" "FICTION!" Estvan snapped. Meanwhile, the Ixie took an opportunity to fly up to Yolanda and zip annoyingly around the vixen's head while sticking out her tongue and making rude noises. 2Image: 0924ewwabug "EWWWW!" Yolanda squealed. "It's that nasty bug thingy! Get it away from me, Pooky! Yuck! Make it stop! Get it away!!" "Is Yolanda all right?" I quietly asked Estvan. "She seems a bit on edge." "Not to worry, Princeling," Estvan announced. "Tis just her time o' the month." "POOKY!!" Yolanda shrieked indignantly. "Time o' the year perhaps I should have said," Estvan continued with a sigh. "Ixie!" I commanded. "To me! Stop harassing that vixen." The Ixie flited back and resumed orbiting my head while humming happily to herself. "Master Winterbough, what are you doing here?" I asked. "Uncle Roland told me you retired." "I did," the Master murmured. "I was on my way home when I was stopped by a large Gap blocking the road." "Are all of these elves with you?" "No. I think Sir Ravenmad might have been following me, but the Silverbrushes were already here." "You're still carrying that ham," I observed. "I thought the curse, or whatever it was, had worn off by now." "It did," the Master of Elfhame explained, "but I think the after-effects may stay with me for a long time, perhaps the rest of my life. I've developed some rather powerful Hamomantic techniques which I thought might be useful for investigating this Gap, so I brought out the ham to use it. There wasn't much else for me to do at the moment, seeing as the road home was obstructed." "That makes sense, I guess," I acknowledged. "So where exactly is this Gap? I don't see it." 3Image: 0924kuhara "It has diminished in size since I arrived," the Master informed me. He nodded toward a gray-robed figure across a field. "Doctor Kuhara is .. um .. probing what's left of it with her clyster." "THAT IS ABSOLUTELY *RIDICULOUS*, MY DEAR!" Estvan shouted at the Doctor. "KEEP IT UP!" "When did she get here?" I asked. "Kuhara was already here along with the Silverbrushes when I arrived," the Master replied. Well, now it was time for me to do some investigating! Time to show these weirdos the power of the King's Right Hand! I decided to try a bold magickal experiment and summon Bucephalus to me. I would be an awe-inspiring sight, riding up to the Gap on my noble steed and conquering it with mighty Magicks! This was definitely a Good Idea!! 4Image: 0924summoning "Mighty Bucephalus, best of ants!" I declaimed in a powerful voice while the Ixie cheered me on. "I invoke, conjure, and summon you to me now!" **************************************************** >>BUCEPHALUS appears!<< 1Image: 0924bucephalus "Very impressive, lad," Estvan scoffed. "And what exactly was it you were plannin' to do with your little toy ant, now?" If this were some kind of game wherein one's vital statistics were mapped out on a chart, my ESTEEM characteristic would have been dropping rapidly at this moment. I could almost hear the "whoosh" of a stat bar getting smaller. 2Image: 0924stride I meekly cleared my throat, stuffed Bucephalus into my Elfintory, and turned toward the open meadow. With cheeks burning and ears down, I strode purposefully in the direction of the supposed Gap ... 3Image: 0924bump ... and smacked face-first, at full Striding speed, into an unseen obstacle. The next thing I knew, I was lying on the ground. My nose was bleeding, and Doctor Kuhara was standing over me, brandishing her clyster and whispering something I could just barely hear. 4Image: 0924imfine "NO THANKS," I squeaked in alarm. "THAT WON'T BE NECESSARY! REALLY, I'M FINE!!" ******************************************************** 1Image: 0924whatsthat "HEY WHAT'S THAT?" I yelped, grateful for the distraction as I pointed toward a mysterious figure lying in the grass. 2Image: 0930hamheal Before I could do anything about the recumbent form in the grass, the Master of Elfhame was by my side, pressing his ham against my face. "If I had some bacon then I could really show you something," the Master muttered quietly. "But this should at least stop the bleeding. Nice apport, by the way. Very few elves today can conjure an object out of thin air. I was impressed." "What did I run into?" I asked, as a savory hammy aroma filled my nostrils. "I didn't see anything there." "It was probably frozen air," the Master explained, "a phenomenon often encountered in places where a Gap is forming. I once came across some near Elfhame, but it seems that, ah, engaging in acts of venery near the phenomenon will cause it to dissipate." Master Winterbough took the ham away from my nose. The bleeding had stopped. 3Image: 0930nudgenudge "Hey, did you hear that, Doctor?" I schmoozed, nudging Kuhara with my elbow (by Fuma, she was tall!). "The Master may have cured my nosebleed, but perhaps there is still a way you can make me feel better AND heal the Gap at the same time." Kuhara smiled - or at least the lines on her mask seemed to smile - and she whispered something about a sensual colon cleansing ... at least I thought that was what she said ... 4Image: 0930ow Suddenly I heard a loud zapping sound, and white-hot pain shot through my ear and across the side of my head! ****************************************************** 1Image: 0930scolding "How darest thou!" the Ixie scolded. "Flirting with other femmes right in front of me! Verily, and forsooth, no-one shall enjoy venery with thee until I have had my turn!" "Okay, okay!" I appeased. "I didn't dow you felt dat way." I sniffed distractedly before realizing that my nose was bleeding again, very copiously. Master Winterbough sighed and pressed the ham against my face. "Whad'th Kuhara doig here eddyway?" I mumbled around the mass of salted pork. "Add da Silberbrushes?" "Appraised I was, by the monks, of a new Gap of considerable size, right here, blockin' the King's own highway," Estvan explained. "And it's invitin' the good Doctor along I was too, on account of her unorthodox methods. Hudalaleigh, lad, now that you're the Hand as well as the Grand Marshall in Training, perhaps you'd care to lend an ear or two to me wee little proposal as regards establishin' a special division, a team of experts, perhaps along the lines of a Fraternal Order, or a Royal Society maybe? I've already though of a cracking name for it..." "The name is stupid," Yolanda pouted. "And so is the society. I can't be a member, but I get dragged along on all the missions anyway?" "You're welcome, and more than welcome, to stay home, me dearie," Estvan gently suggested. "But I have talents of my own to contribute to the cause!" Yolanda insisted. "Other than preventin' me from usin' o' the magick, what can you do?" Estvan demanded. "Stand around lookin' pretty? Sure, and Kuhara can do that - PLUS something useful, as well!" I could tell that Yolanda was about to erupt into full-blown fury, so I quickly interrupted: "What about that body lying in the grass?" "Begorrah, lad! It's completely forgettin' about that, I was! Sure, and the thing was lying so still, it slipped me mind altogether! You're the ranking authority here, so lead on, Your Highness." 2Image: 0930approach Everyone gathered behind me as I cautiously approached the mysterious figure. I heard a quiet "pook" as the Master of Elfhame disappeared and reappeared just beyond where the figure was lying. 3Image: 0930dropham "FUMA'S STRIPES!" the Master exclaimed, dropping his ham. "IT'S -" 4Image: 0930itsalive The ham landed on the figure's shins, and as soon as the preserved meat touched it, the figure sat up with a lurch and a drawn-out gasp. *************************************************** 1Image: 0930twitch The thing-that-looks-like-Sir-Evan-Klive turned its crazed yellow eyes on me and began to twitch in a manner most unsettling to behold. "Sure, and he's a snappy dresser," Estvan remarked behind me. 2Image: 1008ghlbtsk The Thing-that-looks-like-Evan-Klive emitted a wheezing gurgling sigh. It almost sounded like words, but it was not in any language I recognized. "Is he saying something?" I asked of nobody in particular. "Maybe I should try using Elfmind on him." "Bad idea, boyo," Estvan muttered, putting a hand on my shoulder. "Undead elves are a bad thing. Sure and his mind may be an empty void, and it's sucked in you'd be if you tried to probe it." "What about talking to him?" you ask. "No ham, er, I mean harm in that, as far as I know," Estvan shrugs. "SIR EVAN!" I shouted at the gurgling figure. "Is that you? Are you okay? Have you been dead? Were you in Fuma's Embrace? What was it like on the other side?" 3Image: 1008cringe The Klive-Thing cringed and whimpered pathetically. "Whoah," I gasped. "Maybe he was in the Netherhells. I didn't think about that." "Most insensitive of you, lad," Estvan remarked. "But it's not jumpin' to conclusions you should be, at all at all." "Well, he was an Unseelie villain," I pointed out. "Look at him. He looks so pathetic, I almost feel sorry for him. There must be something we can do. Hey, didn't we meet his ghost in the inn on the way to Persoc Tor on the first day of Winter? He was haunting a ham, and then Yolanda ate a slice of that ham, seeming to become possessed by something afterward ... and then Master Winterbough got a dose of the ham curse after a magickal mishap between Yolanda and the Ixie. Maybe you guys are carrying parts of Sir Evan's spirit, and you could somehow transfer that back to him?" "Forget it," Yolanda snapped. "I'm not getting close to that creepy thing." "Unlike the ham, his carcass was not properly preserved," the Master called from where he had withdrawn back among the trees. "He reeks of decay." Suddenly the Klive-Thing noticed the ham in his lap. 4Image: 1008lookathat The Klive-Thing ravenously devoured the ham in a most un-elfly display of appetite. I don't think even my great-uncle Roland could have tucked in with such gluttonous savagery. Everyone stood and watched in dumbfounded amazement as the half-dead fox gobbled up the ham. ****************************************************** 1Image: 1008hambone The Klive-Thing panted lustily around the bone clenched in his teeth, and grined at me in a way that sent chills down my spine. Doctor Kuhara whispered something about what was needed after consuming such a meal. She pushed her way through our group, and strode confidently toward the Klive-Thing. With her clyster at the ready, she pushed the grinning ghoul over with her foot and rolled him onto his stomach ... 2Image: 1008grisly "BEGORRAH," Estvan exclaimed. "Not even I was ready to see that." I turned away in disgust, while Sir Ravenmad stared in what I assumed was shocked amazement. Somewhere behind me, I could hear Yolanda throwing up. "Are you all right, my dearie?" Estvan asked, solicitously. "I'm not sure," Yolanda groaned. "Why must that quack use her clyster on everything?" "Tis her schtick, is all. Sure and it's remarkably effective in most cases." 3Image: 1008ahhh I had to admit, once the treatment had been administered, the Klive-Thing looked remarkably relaxed. He lay prostrate in the grass with a contented expression on his face. His breathing was smooth and even, and it appeared that his condition had been stabilized. Well then! Now that that had been dealt with, I could turn my mind to other matters ... such as the Gap, which was the reason I came out here, and which I still hadn't actually seen ... and also ... "IXIE!" I snapped. "I told you that you might earn my favor if you were good! I do not appreciate you attacking me and scolding me like some sort of harridan." 4Image: 1008badixie "Many regrets, My Prince," the Ixie chirped, not sounding contrite at all. She flitted in front of my face and wiggled her rear. "I have been bad, and must needs be spanked. Be not gentle; I deserve thy harshest discipline!" I decided not to even dignify that with a response. "Yon Master of Elfhame mentioned venery as effective proof against Gaps," the Ixie continued, suggestively. "Mayhap now's the time to honor thy promise and put that theory to the test?" "That may be something the King would want to look into personally," I postulated, thinking of the floozies in his Cabinet. "Besides, I don't see any Gap here now. Where is it? What happened?" ************ 1Image: 1013whatgap "You walked into a chunk of frozen air a few minutes ago," the Master of Elfhame reminded me. "That was the last remaining trace of the Gap. When I first arrived, it was large enough to stretch through this field and across the road - and it was dark enough to be seen clearly. However, it was shrinking rapidly as Doctor Kuhara probed it with her clyster ... and the Silverbrushes ... well, I don't know what they were doing, but the Gap seems to be gone now." "Venery, Estvan?" Sir Ravenmad askede skeptically. "Out in the open, with bystanders looking on? At your age? Frankly, I'm surprised." "Sure, and it's nobody was being venerated," Estvan protested, "although, what if they were? It's a married elf I am now! Anyhow, it's known that Gaps respond best to foolishness. What's expected to work against them is never as effective as the most absurd experiment. Kuhara's efforts made the difference this time. Next time, who's to say?" Meanwhile the clyster-wielding anteater, brimming over with confidence, solicitously offered Yolanda her medical assistance. 2Image: 1013imfine "No thanks," Yolanda snarled, shakily wiping her face. "I'm fine. Get away from me with that thing." "What about Sir Evan?" I asked. "As far as anyone knows, his body was lying here the whole time. He may be connected to the Gap somehow, or at least he was here when it formed. Maybe if I did a psychometric reading on him, it would reveal information about the formation of the Gap?" "Never do psychometry on people, lad," Estvan warned. "Not the living, the dead, nor especially the undead. You open yourself up to some very unpleasant consequences, to be sure." "Well, at any rate, we should bring him back to Headquarters for study," I insisted. "I'm sure Marshal Roland has some experts who will know what to do with him." "Do you think it's safe to bring that - that thing with us?" Yolanda asked nervously. I looked at the Klive-Thing lying in the grass, burbling idiotically and grinning like a fool. "He looks harmless," I reassured Yolanda. "Give me your leash, if you're still carrying it." "Sure and I thought that was our special thing," Estvan exclaimed in dismay as Yolanda reluctantly produced the collar and leash from her Elfintory. 3Image: 1013leash I carefully put the collar around the Klive-Thing's neck and fastened the leash. Klive grinned and chuckled quietly but showed no other reaction. I was debating with myself whether I wanted to search his pockets or not, when a voice called out: "UNHAND THAT VLUPTIANIAN CITIZIN!" 4Image: 1013unhand I looked up in surprise to see Ambassador Sweatcheeks waddling imperiously across the meadow, with Alice Chetsweeks following grimly behind him. "THAT 1 ISNT UR PROPERTY," the Ambassador declared. "Could bee his onely crime is pining 4 the fjords of his homeland! Its posatively unfare what your doing 2 him! How dare U try combining his essance with teh Zombie Ghosts of Duke Winterbough?? AND U, Esteban! I am suprized 2CU here with this rabble! Whats you're deal??" "Huh??" Everyone in my group murmured uncomfortably. The Ambassador's Vulpitanian accent was so thick, I could barely make out what he was saying. ***************************************************** "ENUFF BLATHER!" Sweatcheeks bellowed. "Release him N2 oure custardy at once, Prince Alder, or face a Diplomantic Incadent! SALV Chetsweeks, take charge of teh prisoner - I MEAN REFUGEE FROM IMPERIAL UNJUSTICE!" 1Image: 1013drag Not sure what else to do, I handed over the leash to Alice, who took it and solemnly dragged the former Sir Evan Klive toward the Ambassador's waiting coach. The Klive-Thing whimpered pathetically but did not resist. "I guess I won't be seeing that item again," Yolanda sighed as the Vulpitanian secretary walked away with her leash. (line) While everyone was distracted: 2Image: 1013bonetake The Master of Elfhame quietly picked up the well-gnawed ham bone and tucked it carefully inside his cloak. (line) Everyone watched as the foxes climbed aboard their coach, and it rumbled off in the direction of Albric Tor. "Well, now that the road seems to be clear, I'd best resume my journey," the Master of Elfhame stated quietly. "I was hoping you would come back with me to the Capital and file a report on the Gap," I protested. "No offense, Your Highness, but I'm retired," the Master explained. "Unless you, as Right Hand of the King, are ordering me back to Albric Tor, I'm riding with the Royal & Imperial Mail, and it cannot be delayed any longer." I sadly shook my head and indicated for the Master of Elfhame to resume his homeward journey. "I shall accompany you, Master Winterbough," Sir Ravenmad declared. "I haven't been to the Vale of Elfhame in quite a long time. It's a lovely, peaceful place to write, and I'm feeling inspired by these latest events. Plus there's the matter of your retirement party to see to ..." The two of them toddled off over the hill, and a few minutes later I saw a mail coach - followed by what looked like a hearse - rolling away up the road. "We'll come with you back to Albric, boyo," Estvan stated, clapping his hand cordially on my shoulder. "But, er, I seem to have lost our conveyance while experimenting with the Gap." "He threw the whole thing in there," Yolanda explained. "Ant and all. I don't know what he was thinking." "Ah, but you came here in something, did you not?" Estvan asked me cheerily. "We'll just pile into that!" "I came in a chaise," I explained. "I don't think it will hold all of us." The driver confirmed my prediction. "Nothin' doin'," he declared. "This 'ere rig carries two. Maybe three in a pinch, but no more." "That's not a problem," Estvan acceded. "Put the femmes aboard this contraption. I can Pook on ahead, and it's sure I am that His Highness can figure something out. Maybe conjure up a trim little gig to go with that ant you summoned earlier?" With a cackle and a wink, Estvan vanished in a POOK of displaced air. 3Image: 1013chaise "Now that's a bit of all right!" the driver declared, once he was ensconced in the chaise, with Yolanda and Kuhara on either side of him. "See yer back at HQ, guv." With a touch of his cap and a flick of the reins, the chaise whisked off down the road. Now I was alone, somewhere along the East Road, with an Ixie of the Ominous Orse. 4Image: 1013ohgoody "This is it, isn't it?" she hummed gleefully. "Our moment hath come at last! Oh rapture! The time for restraint is past! Thou must turn into an ixie to fly back to Albric, mustn't thou? Just be sure thou hast a hard, smooth carapace and promise me thou'lt not be gentle!" ********************************************************** 1Image: 1015shouldi Hmm. I paused for a moment to consider my options while the Ixie wiggled excitedly in front of me. I was tempted to just start walking, but the creature obviously had her hopes up. She was not going to accept many more excuses, and she did not seem the type who could be distracted with music and flowers. The longer I tried to put her off, the more pushy and annoying she was likely to become. I could try some mean tricks to frighten her, but she had already demonstrated a level of spunk - not to mention a troublesome electrical zapping power - which suggested to me that this would be a Bad Idea. Plus, I had no idea what potential her covered Eye might contain, if she had inherited its Curse from Yolanda. Okay then. I realized that I was going to have to do this eventually anyway. Might as well get it over with. With a proper application of my Wiles training, perhaps I could turn this problem into an asset. It wouldn't be bad having a skilled Secret Agent "in my pocket" as the saying goes. I transmogrified into an ixie, and the Ladybird lunged hungrily toward me ... (line) _A little while later_ 2Image: 1015grreat I was buzzing through the air toward Albric Tor after leaving the Ladybird in a blissful stupor, tucked safely away in a hollow log. She would probably find me again, once she awakened, but for now I was on my own. What an invigorating experience! I decided I would definitely have to do that again sometime. It was something like a cross between lovemaking and fighting; the Ladybird had clearly had some training in Wiles and body-magick, but I was able at last to conquer and subdue her. By all rights I should have been exhausted after such a workout, but I felt positively energized! I was ready to take on the world! Yessirree, when I got back to GHQ, I was going to ask my great-uncle for more leads to investigate these Gaps. 3Image: 1015gap As I flew up over the next rise, I stopped short at the sight of the Vulpitanian coach and my army chaise stalled on the road. Everyone seemed to be standing around, staring at what looked like a dark, swirling fog-bank. I transmogrified back into myself, and walked cautiously toward the group. 4Image: 1015klivegrab As I drew closer, the Klive-Thing suddenly darted out from under the coach and grabbed onto my leg. He whined pathetically and refused to let go. I staggered toward Yolanda and Doctor Kuhara, dragging the half-dead fox with me. ******************************************************** Suddenly there was a POOK, and Estvan appeared. 1Image: 1015whatsup "Cushlamochree!" Estvan exclaimed. "What's the bloomin' holdup? Sure and it's only so many sweet rolls I can sit and watch Rollie eat before I start wonderin' where in the Netherhells me wife and companions could have got to!" "Another Gap, Pookie!" Yolanda explained. "It opened up right in front of us! We can't get through!" 2Image: 1015itspeaks Suddenly the Klive-Thing opened its mouth, and out came an eerie hollow-sounding voice - but with a familiar cadence ... "Tell me what's happening, Your Highness," the voice murmured. "I might be able to assist from here." "BEGORRAH!" Estvan exclaimed. "Westersloe, me boyo, tis most impressed I am! I've not seen the likes of this in centuries! How is it ye've managed to pull off such a feat?" "All is ham," the Klive-Thing mysteriously intoned. "There's a large Gap blocking the road back to Albric Tor," I explained. "It seems to have formed very quickly. Are you in the Netherhells, Sir Evan? What's it like over there?" 3Image: 1022durr "No, this is Corporal Winterbough," the Klive-Thing murmured. "I am using the ham bone as a sympathetic connection to Sir Evan's body. I can communicate with you, but I can't see anything. Either the connection is incomplete, or his vision is clouded by ham." "Can you make him let go of my leg?" I asked, hopefully. "Alas, no." "An idea occurs to me," the Master/Klive continued, "If all is ham, then the Gaps must be not-ham. What is the opposite of ham?" "I have no idea," I shrugged. "I'm going to get a closer look." 4Image: 1022examine I dragged the clingy Vulpitanian semi-corpse over to the roiling wall of fog. The Gap was eerily silent, almost as if it were absorbing sound. It also seemsed to be slowly expanding; as I stood there, I noticed it get a tiny bit closer to me. "What happened when you sent your ant into the Gap?" I asked Estvan. "Nothing," he replied. "The ant was lost to our sight, and did not return at all, at all." "I wonder if the Gap extends below the surface of the ground," I mused. "If only I had something to dig with." *********************************************************** "Sure, and it's not meanin' to alarm you I am, lad," Estvan mentioned, "but this Gap appears to be curvin' around us." "Perhaps some venery is in order?" I suggested. "Tis unlikely to work this time, since we're expecting it too much," Estvan sighed. "Still, tis worth a try. Come, Yolanda me lass. I'm thinkin' the Vulpitanian carriage might be a good place for us to work." 1Image: 1022howboutit I sidled (as smoothly as I could with the Klive-Thing clinging to my leg) up to Dr. Kuhara, who was diligently probing the Gap with her clyster. "It might be time to try a different approach, Doctor," I insinuated. "Would you care for a bit of venery? For the good of Faerie?" Kuhara whispered that her clyster technique had proven effective, and it would be most efficient if she continued to devote her attention to it, especially considering that Sir Evan's body was available and seemingly eager for venereal use. "Let me break this connection before you attempt that," the voice of Master Winterbough urgently requested. "Don't worry," I assured him. "I have no intention of doing such a thing." 2Image: 1022itsgotme Suddenly SALV Chetsweeks called out, "IT'S GOT ME! I can't pull my arm back! I'm stuck!" "OH GRACIOUS FUMA," the Ambassador squealed. "LOOK! Teh Gap has us surrounded! I new we shouldn't of came hear! We should of just let sleeping Vulps lye, but NOOO, it was 2 dam inportant 2 R cause! We just HAD 2 come out hear & get teh Klive! And now were goin 2 DYE!" 3Image: 1022tellme I rush-stumbled over to the panicking Ambassador and grabbed him by his sash. "What are you talking about?" I demanded. "Why did you have to get Klive's body? Why now? And how did you know it was here in the first place?" "I cant face Fuma with this on my contience," the Ambassador bawled. "Ill tell U everthing! Teh contracters locked his mind N a ham. Not oure idea! We told them deal wiht it, an thats what they came up with. Then teh idiots lost track of teh ham!" "Your Excellency," Miss Chetsweeks snarled as she tried to pull her arm free. "Stop talking, Sir! Calm yourself!" "We neaded him out of teh picture but not compleatly dead," the Ambassador continued. "SHUT UP, SIR!" Alice bellowed. Suddenly the Gap closed around us, and everything went gray and silent. ***************************************************** Image: 1027psychedelic I don't know exactly how long the Gap engulfed us. I had no awareness of the passing of time; no awareness of my body; just a series of absurd scenarios flitting through my mind... ****************************************************** 1Image: 1027wherearewe When my consciousness returned to normal I realized I was standing in a clearing in a forest, with Ambassador Sweatcheeks, SALV Chetsweeks, and Doctor Kuhara. This place looked remarkably like the tulgey wood outside the gateway to Albric Tor. "FUMA HAV MERCY!" the Ambassador wailed. "We fallen rite out of Faerie compleetly!! Oh Fuma, 4give me all my sins. Lowfolks gonna kill us all 4 sure now!!" "Confession is supposedly good for the soul," I prompted. "Calm yourself, Your Excellency!" Miss Chetsweeks barked. "There is no cause for alarm, and certainly no reason to reveal state secrets to His Highness Prince the Right Hand Adler Young! We are extremely unlikely to be murdered by lowfolk!" "How can U know that, SALV?" the Ambassador whimpered. "U havent herd teh stories! When I was a kit, my gramma told me ALL about teh lowfolk! Their monsters I say!! So B4 I die, Prince Alder, I half too tell U about teh arch and oure sinister plans -" 2Image: 1027nervegrip Suddenly Alice grasped the Ambassador's shoulder, and he fell unconscious. "What did you just do?" I demanded. "Vulpitanian Nerve Pinch," Miss Chetsweeks curtly explained. "It's a very simple and harmless Body-magick." "But he's your superior!" I retorted. "Ambassador Sweatcheeks' superiority to me - or to anyone - is debatable," Alice sniffed. "Anyway, I acted in his own best interests. He was clearly hysterical, and needed to be put to sleep before he did himself an injury." I scowled and tried to read the Ambassador with Elfmind, but I couldn't pick up anything from him. I also noticed that the Klive-Thing had let go of my leg and was lying motionless on the ground. Was he re-dead perhaps? Oh, if only I could Pooka Vanish away from this place and these people ... but alas, I still didn't know how to Pook! Thinking about Pooking made me think of Estvan. Did he fall through the Gap as well? I looked around and espied the Vulpitanian coach among some nearby trees. I scampered over and knocked on the door of the coach. There was some scuffling within, and Estvan poked his head out the window. 3Image: 1027knock "Begorrah, lad," he growled, "don't you know Fuma's commandment, 'If the coach is a-rockin..'?" Oh dear! It was extremely gauche to interrupt elves while they were engaged in the Labors of Fuma! "I'm sorry, Uncle," I wheedled, attempting to soothe him by using the honorific address he had given himself when we first met. "It's just that we've fallen through the Gap and we seem to be in the lowfolk lands. Your magickal expertise is needed." "Pooky," Yolanda murmured from inside the coach. "Come back and finish what you started." "Sure, and it's a few minutes I'll be needin," Estvan informed me. "Then it's glad I'll be to help find out all about where we are and so forth. But, cushlamochree! not right this second!" 4Image: 1101hello I returned to the inert Klive-Thing and squatted down next to it. "MASTER WINTERBOUGH!!" I yelled. "OR SIR EVAN! ARE YOU THERE? CAN YOU HEAR ME?" There was no response. ************************************************** I wasn't sure what else to do, so I thought of mushrooms and slunk into the trees to scout around our location and perhaps figure out where we were. I had been to the lowfolk world lots of times, back when Estmere and I used to sneak out to play pranks on the lowfolk. It seemed so long ago ... There was no official protocol for dealing with this world, though the generally accepted practice was to play magickal tricks on the lowfolk while being careful not to engage them directly. These creatures were dangerous! A few paces through some dense brush brought me to another small clearing, where I saw my Army chaise and its driver. I un-mushroomed and approached him. 1Image: 1101driver "What happened?" I asked him. "Don't rightly know, guv'nor," the driver shrugged glumly. "One minute we was on the East Road, and the next minute we was 'ere." "Any idea where here is?" "I suspect it ain't Faerie. It don't smell right, if you get my meanin'.." "Would you care to come with me and scout out our surroundings?" I invited. "Sorry, Yer Highness," the driver declined. "My orders is to stay with this 'ere chaise and not to leave it except in dire emergency. No offense, but recon ain't an emergency by my reckonin'." I couldn't find fault with his logic, so I re-mushroomed and crept off through the undergrowth. A few minutes later I came across a dank, mossy ravine that looked eerily familiar. There was no sign of inhabitation. The entrance to the cave was blocked with thick cobwebs. Feeling a sudden chill, I decided it might be best to return to where I had left the other elves in my group. 2Image: 1101pickacard I made my way back, where I beheld an unexpected scene. Ambassador Sweatcheeks and the Klive-Thing were both lying on the ground, unconscious (in Klive's case, perhaps dead.) Yolanda was angrily pouting about something. Her attitude indicated that she was stubbornly refusing to take part in whatever anyone else was doing. Dr. Kuhara appears to be covered in some sticky substance, and is extremely discomfited by that fact. SALV Chetsweeks was standing stock-still and staring at something off in the distance. I couldn't figure out what she was looking at with such apparent fascination. Estvan was having a bizarre conversation with the strangest-looking creature I had ever seen... "Pick one," Estvan grinned. "Look at it carefully, but sure and don't let me see it." 3Image: 1103sappy I approached the Doctor and tactfully inquired: "What's that sticky gunk all over you?" She whispered dejectedly about sap and the need to revise certain theories regarding the bowels of trees. 4Image: 1103earth2alice I turned to Alice Chetsweeks and attempted to follow her gaze into the forest. I still couldn't make out what she was staring at so intently. "Hey!" I whispered, waving my hands in front of her face. "Hel-LOOO! Miss Chetsweeks! What are you looking at?" She just stood there, ignoring me. How rude! ***************************************************** I cast a suspicious glance at the weird hairless ape which Estvan (in true Elfly fashion) seemed to be attempting to mystify. I assumed this was one of those rare creatures known as "yew-men". It was hideous! I was fascinated yet repelled. I couldn't help but stare, but I was disinclined to get any closer to it. 1Image: 1103begone Suddenly the yew-man turned away with a snort of impatience. "I've no time fer this critterfolk foolishness!" it grumbled. "I gots ta find me missing sheep ere nightfall." "But, but," Estvan protested. "Sure, and this is your card!" "Find that sheep and I'll be impressed, fox-man," the yew-man declared. "Otherwise leave me be. ... and so help me, if I find you've eaten her ..." The yew-man left the threat unfinished as it stomped away into the forest. 2Image: 1103amscray "Adler!" Yolanda whispered urgently as she grabbed my shoulder. "Those things give me the creeps! I hate the lowfolk world. This place stinks! I want to get back to Faerie. Pooky can stay here and play god if he wants to, just take me back home now, please!" "Well, I have to find out exactly where we are first," I explained. 3Image: 1103treetalk Yolanda followed me to the edge of the clearing, where I consulted with some trees. "Ah yes," I stated with some satisfaction. "We are where I thought we were, quite a distance away from the Gate to Albric Tor. It will be a pretty long hike; there aren't any good roads through this forest, so neither the Vulpitanian coach nor my chaise will do us much good." "How do you talk to the trees?" Yolanda asked. "Is that something any elf can do? Pooky won't teach me any magick..." I thought momentarily about the Crossling program and the loss of power among Elves, and I was tempted to keep mum about all of this so I could keep thinking of myself as a special individual, the only genuine elf of my generation, etc. etc. but the truth was that Yolanda didn't go through the Ferifax arch. It was blown up by saboteurs the day before the ceremony. So theoretically she should be able to hear the Voice of the Forest. On the other hand, I was slightly disturbed at how touchy-feely she had gotten all of a sudden. Not only was you still a bit spent from my encounter with the Ixie, there was the matter of Yolanda's husband to consider. She was MARRIED, for Fuma's sake! To a very powerful magick-user! Besides which, I still remembered how annoying she had been when I was dating her. 4Image: 1113letsgo "It used to be something any elf could do," I told her. "You could try listening to the forest and see if you hear anything. Now's not the right time for me to try teaching you, because we're in a bit of a crisis, what with being lost in the lowfolk lands and all. I want to get back to the portal before some lowfolk king comes along and captures us." "They don't actually do that," Yolanda informed me. "At least I've never heard of a king coming out into the woods by himself, looking for elves." "That's a little reassuring," I admitted, "but you can't actually rule out the possibility." "I'm just as eager to get back as you are," Yolanda insisted. "Are you sure there aren't any other portals? Maybe one closer? We could split up and search for it..." "That's a phenomenally bad idea," I pointed out. ************************************************* 1Image: 1113pooralice At that moment, Ambassador Sweatcheeks got up and started yelling again. "OH NOES!!!" the Ambassador wailed. "SALV Chetsweeks! Speek 2 me! Alice! This is terirble! Were DOOMED w/out you'r help!" "What's the problem?" I asked, grateful for the sudden distraction. "Why is she standing motionless and thrashing her tail around like that?" "MALFUNCTION," the Ambassador yowled. "Oure most valuable asset in teh field is now nothig more then a expensive statue! We cant get a coach thru this woods, so theres no way 2 bring her back 4 repares." "We can make stretchers for Miss Chetsweeks and Sir Evan," I suggested. "R U CRAZY?" the Ambassador howled. "Firts, Chetsweeks ways a ton! Shes supper heavy! Plus making stuf takes time, an makes noise, witch draws lowfolks attention! We got 2 get out of hear! But if I leave her, I dare not go back home. Wat do I DO?" Before I could explain that I had seen Lemmy carry SALV Chetsweeks in his arms on at least one occasion, suddenly the Ambassador lunged forward and yanked the vixen's tail off! Alice kept standing completely motionless, but the tail whipped and flailed around vigorously in the Ambassador's hand. 2Image: 1113gaaah "She can tell me!" the Ambassador declared, brandishing the still-thrashing tail at Yolanda. "Begorrah!" Estvan exclaimed. "Sure and it's never I've actually seen one of those up close." "GET THAT THING AWAY FROM ME!!" Yolanda shrieked. "Not so loud!" the Ambassador squawked. "Pleeze, SALV Cognomena-Silverbrush, your our onely hope! U have 2 carry her! Let her attach 2 teh base of you're tail an borrow you're body 4 a wile! I promise it wont hurt a bit!" "NO!!!" Yolanda screamed. "Hudalaleigh, instead of assaultin' me wife, how about usin' this spare carcass which nobody seems to be occupyin' at all, at all?" Estvan suggested, pointing at the Klive-Thing on the ground. "Two birds with one stone, as they say." "SALV Chetsweeks wont like that," the Ambassador whined. "It's either the corpse, or carry her yourself," Estvan summed up grimly. The Ambassador reluctantly rolled the Klive-Thing over and stuck Miss Chetsweeks' tail into the corpse's pantaloons, just above Sir Evan's own tail. The tail twitched a few times, then the corpse sighed, rolled over, and slowly stood up. 3Image: 1113unacceptable "This is absolutely disgusting," the Klive-Thing muttered. "Your behavior will be going into my report." "Pleeze, I had 2 inprovize!" the Ambassador wheedled. "Now, what do U sudjest we do?" "We are NOT leaving my body here," the Klive-Thing growled. "I know! But its heavy, and we cant use teh coach!" "The coach is also too valuable to leave behind," the Klive-Thing grumbled. "Mr. Silverbrush! Can you teleport objects back to Faerie?" "Ach, t'would be a stretch, it would, just to pook meself back," Estvan explained. "Now I could pook me own self to the portal from here easily, but a whole coach? Tis difficult, that is. Sure, and it might not work at all, at all, and then here I'd be, exhausted and useless from the effort, and another body to carry." "I refuse to abandon it," the Klive-Thing stated emphatically. "My driver won't leave the chaise either," I chimed in. "What if we shrunk the coach and the chaise, and put them in our Elfintories?" "Begorrah, they'd still weigh as much, lad. Sure and you can't carry a coach in your pocket." "We could shrink them and then lash them to the backs of the ants," I suggested. "The coach has a team of two, and my chaise has one. That should be enough to carry both vehicles and Miss Chetsweeks' body." "Not a bad idea at all, at all," Estvan grinned. "With your help, the two of us should be able to manage it neatly. Perhaps we'll find my ant and carriage too; they should be not too far away ... though now I think of it, probably they lie in the opposite direction of the portal." Even taking into account the Klive-Thing's determined insistence that Miss Chetsweek's body not be shrunk, we managed to reduce the size of the coach and chaise, and distribute the load among the three ants. My driver agreed to tend to the animals (apparently Alice had been driving the Vulpitanian coach) and take the lead, once I indicated to him which way to go toward the portal. Ambassador Sweatcheeks followed the ant team, with the Klive-Thing looming behind him. I followed Klive, with the Silverbrushes behind me. Doctor Kuhara insisted on bringing up the rear. 4Image: 1113parade "The ground looks somewhat familiar," I observed, to nobody in particular. "But the trees are wrong..." "Were doomed," the Ambassador whined. "Any 2nd now, lowfolk pirates R gonna find us and take us hostage 4 wishes." "Shut up, sir," the Klive-Thing croaked. "Shush, all of you," Estvan hissed. "Sure, and I hear something." "I think I hear it too," Yolanda whispered. "Is that the Voice of the Forest?" "Tis something following us," Estvan explained. "THIS IS IT!" the Ambassador yelped. "Theyll nevar take me alive! SALV, U may halve 2 kill me if it comes 2 that." "It will be my pleasure, sir," the Klive-Thing growled. "Until then, keep quiet." "Get some offensive spells ready, lad, and come with me," Estvan thought at me, pointing toward some dense bushes with his shillelagh. The two of us crept silently forward ... Estvan parted the undergrowth with his stick ... ***************************************************** 1Image: 1113baa "Help!" the young sheep-person bleated from her hiding place. "I'm lost in the woods! Do you know the way back home?" I took a cautious step back. I was quite familiar with all the ballads in which lowfolk, through a combination of deceit and dumb luck, managed to get the better of their Elfin betters. Those stories never ended well for the elf! Everyone knew, no matter how weak and bumbling the lowfolk may seem ... they were incredibly dangerous! 2Image: 1120rarr Suddenly I exploded in an outburst of fear and resentment. "Why am I the one who has to solve everyone's problems?" I kvetched. "It's not my responsibility! You got yourself lost, you can damn well get yourself UNlost! What makes you think you deserve toys and help and directions from the likes of us? Why can't you just leave us law-abiding elves alone?" "You're Elves??" the sheep bleated, wide-eyed. "Nice going, boyo," Estvan thought at me. "Best stand aside and let me handle this, before it's any worse you can make it." 3Image: 1120nowlass "Och, that's right, lassie," Estvan cackled madly as he lunged toward the cringing sheep-girl. "And if ye can guess me name, then it's a wish I'll be grantin' ye!" "I wish I was home," the sheep bleated sadly. "I wish Bill wasn't looking for me." "Guess first," Estvan insisted. "Wishes after. And ye can only have one. Wish, that is. Sure, and ye may guess as much as ye like." 4Image: 1120ohnoes "OH FUMA!" Ambassador Sweatcheeks panted. "Oh Fuma, Oh Fuma, Oh Fuma! By teh whiskers of Saint Reynard, it knows were Elfs! It sees us! Estvan has it guessing oure names and of coarse its gonna guess n thin detsroy us all!" "Calm yourself, sir," the Klive-Thing growled, "or I'll do it for you." "Is your name Estvan?" the sheep girl guessed. "Ach, now, that's cheatin'," Estvan complained. "Sure and the Ambassador just told you, so now you have to guess me FULL name." I wanted no part of this, so I stepped over toward the Vulpitanians. ***************************************************** 1Image: 1120moldygrump "So, um ... what's it like being in the partially deceased body of Sir Evan Klive?" I asked. "Repulsive," the Klive-Thing grumbled. "This carcass is rotten and foul, and only just barely functional. This is by far the most disgusting thing I've ever had to do." "Maybe I could use Gramerye to, um, freshen it up a bit for you?" I offered. "Thanks, Your Highness, but there's no need to waste your strength on me," the Klive-Thing demurred. "I just had a much better idea." With a grumbling snort, Klive lurched over toward where Estvan was taunting the sheep girl to guess his middle name, and Doctor Kuhara was politely offering her an enema to soothe her mind and balance her humours. 2Image: 1120therethere Ambassador Sweatcheeks looked even more frightened without Klive standing next to him, so I amble up and clapped a friendly hand on his shoulder. "Buck up, Your Excellency," I chummed. "Can't be as bad as all that. It's only one lowperson, after all, and a young one at that." "Teh worsest kind!" the Ambassador gasped. "I tell U, wear DOOMED." "Say, what can you tell me about - " I started to ask, when a sudden shriek of terror interrupted me. "GET THAT THING AWAY FROM MY DERRIERE!" the sheep girl bleated in outrage. I assumed at first that she was talking to Kuhara, but as I turned to look, I saw the doctor step back in surprise as Klive lunged toward the young lamb ... the half-dead fox pulled off one of his tails and jabbed it under the sheep's skirts as he toppled forward into the dirt ... 3Image: 1120thatsbetter The sheep girl gasped and twitched a couple of times as her fox tail thrashed excitedly ... then she blinked, exhaled calmly, and said, "That's much better. Young, fresh, healthy, female .. yes, this will do nicely for now. You may lash that musty carcass to the ant with my regular body, please." 4Image: 1120whatisthat "What IS that thing?" I thought at Estvan. "Did I hear you correctly when you insinuated you had heard of something like this?" "Aye, lad, I have," Estvan replied. "But sure and I thought it was little more than a legend. Tis said there is a creature called a Scuti or a Tailipo which can steal a person's body and drain the life out of them. Never would I have believed it until now." "What do you know about these Tailipo creatures?" I inquired. "Not much at all, at all," Estvan admitted. "As I said, little did I think they even existed until now." "If they're not elves, does that mean they don't obey Thorwald's laws?" I speculated. "Could be," Estvan shrugged. "Who's Saint Reynard?" I asked, in a sudden non-sequitur. "Hudalaleigh, he's a legendary figure among foxes, and is regarded as the patron saint of Vulpitania," Estvan grinned. "Interesting you should mention him, for one of his legends relates how he saved an elf possessed by a Scuti by gettin' him roaring drunk on brandy and leadin' him up into the mountains where he got buried under an avalanche. The combination of cold and liquor numbed the creature and St. Reynard was able to remove it." "What did he do with it after that?" I asked. "Who knows?" Estvan winked. "The story doesn't say." "Are all of the Scuti fox tails, or ... might there be skunk ones too? How would I know if I saw one?" I queried, nervously. "Sure and I don't know what varieties there may be, but you should regard with suspicion anybody who has two tails," Estvan recommended. ****************************************************** "I've got to find out something," I said aloud as I stalked toward the sheep girl. 1Image: 1126hnnng Before Estvan could say anything, I walked up behind the sheep and sent a quick, piercing jab of Elfmind to forcefully intrude upon her thoughts and memories. I got a quick glimpse of the Yew-man calling her "Bowpeep" ... something about the Albric Tor Gateway ... and then nothing. "What are you doing, Your Highness?" the sheep asked suspiciously. "Don't spy on me with Elfmind!" I backed away, rebuffed, and turned my attention to the Ambassador, who was waddling toward me after helping (supervising) Kuhara and my chaise driver secure Klive's carcass to one of the ants. The portly Vulpitanian beckoned me closer. 2Image: 1126psst "Yr Highness, we half too get Alice away from that lowfolk," the Ambassador whispered. "If shes off teh wagon then no telling wut will happen. Theres Unseely & then thres just plane BAD!1! We cant take that lamb back to Faery, her lifes in dagner & there wood be serrious reaper cushions." 3Image: 1126exult While the Ambassador was talking, the lamb twirled around and stretched luxuriously. "AAHHH!" she sighed giddily. "After using that mecha-body for so long I'd forgotten what it felt like to be ALIVE! This one's young enough, it might be time for me to settle down and lay some eggs..." She trailed off into a paroxysm of giggling and hugging herself. "Odear, its worser then I thought," the Ambassador groaned. "All her promises R instently out teh door! HEY!" he shouted to the sheep, "were supposed 2 had a DEEL!" 4Image: 1126ohdear This situation was becoming more and more troubling. It seemed that lowfolk (at least some of them) no longer respected elves. I doubted this could have anything to do with the Gaps in Faerie, but it did add insult to injury. What was going on with Miss Chetsweeks? Could the Scuti be behind all the mystery about the Vulpitanian plot and "Fuma's Mistake?" What about Estmere's weird attraction for ungulate women? I couldn't let this lowfolk lamb into Albric Tor, for multiple reasons - but my brief Elfmind glimpse indicated that she already knew about the portal; its location if nothing else. I didn't feel at all equipped to handle any of this, let alone the official responsibilities which would await me once I got home. If anything so far could be called a "Mistake" it would have to be my brother's decision to appoint me Grand Marshal! ************************************************* As I stood there, locked in panic, I was dimly aware of Miss Bowpeep twirling giddily around and laughing like a maniac. "LOTS of eggs!" she giggled. "And to do that I'll have to mate! Yes! Lots and LOTS of lovers! This body has her best years ahead of her! Oh, I don't know when I've felt so young and alive! I think I'm going to have to ditch that contract and change my name back from Chetsweeks ..." 1Image: 1202plzhelp "OMG!!1!" Ambassador Sweatcheeks wailed, snapping me out of my fugue. "She wont listen 2 a thing I say! Do U not apresciate teh enormity of this situaiton?? Shes dagnerous in this state! Pleez, Yr Hiness, U hav 2 help us! Use yr seductive Mojo 2 distract her!" "Uh ..." I hesitated. "OH PLZ," the Ambassador pleaded. "We totaly know U has teh Mojo, U tried 2 use it on Alice earleir but her prosthetic body was immune! Now shes gone organic, U can seduce her! Its teh onely way 2 stop her!" "Ambassador, that is a lamb," I pointed out. "Even if I had this 'Mojo' you speak of, I certainly wouldn't use it on a child." "GTFO!" the Ambassador insisted. "Alice is way older then U." "That may be so, but the body she's using is younger. I won't do it." 2Image: 1202grrarr Suddenly the Yew-man came crashing through the underbrush! "What in blazes is all the ruckus?" he demanded. "What are you people doing with my sheep? Why do you have a miniature carriage and two dead foxes strapped to a team of ants?? And what is that doctor lady doing to them?? So help me, if you've laid a finger on Bowpeep, I'll ..." 3Image: 1202shutup "EVERYBODY JUST SHUT UP!!" I yelled. "We need to get back to Faerie! We don't care about your sheep; she found us. Nobody asked her to tag along. In fact she's been nothing but an inconvenience! Alice may have taken over her body, but since she's not an elf, I don't care. Take them both; it's not our problem." "IS TOO," the Ambassador interjected. "Zip it, Your Excellency," I commanded. "I'm taking charge here. We are going to leave the lowfolk to sort out their own mess, and we are heading back to the gate right now!" "Elves?" the Yew-man bellowed. "You're bloody ELVES?? WHAT HAVE YOU DONE TO MY BOWPEEP??" "Were doomed," the Ambassador whimpered. "It wasnt nice knowing U." 4Image: 1202billshot 5Image: 1202peepshot Suddenly, with a soft "thwip thwip" sound, Miss Bowpeep and the Yew-man went limp and toppled to the ground. A cheerful voice called "Hudalaleigh!" from not far away, among the trees. *********************************************************** Wow. This situation got out of control faster than I would ever have expected. It reminded me of the incident with the bandits on my journey to Athstead ... but it couldn't have been me this time! I didn't have Irenaeus' tail comb anymore, and besides, if I had drawn my bow, wouldn't I still be holding it afterward? 1Image: 1209vitals I felt a bit disoriented. I was almost tempted to ask Dr. Kuhara to check on my state of health, but I opted instead for a cursory self-examination. I checked my pulse and tried to remember my name, the date, and where I was. Everything seemed ... well, not normal, but okay. Once I finished checking on myself, I decided it might be appropriate to examine the lowfolk for any signs of life. Those shots looked lethal. 2Image: 1209careful I knelt down next to the Yew-man and noticed that he was still breathing. I was about to examine him further, when Ambassador Sweatcheeks rushed up to me. "WATE!" the fox exclaimed. "B carefull, Yr Highness! No telling how dagnerous those thngs can bee! And 4 Fuma's sake, dont get 2 close too Alice, shes gone completley bonkers!" 3Image: 1209badtail The Ambassador reached under Miss Bowpeep's frilly skirts and yanked out the Scuti, which writhed sluggishly in his hand. "Im ashamed of U, SALV," he scolded the creature. "You're reputation 4 discapline is totaly shot now! Its gonna take a long time 2 regain teh Councils trust & UR gonna have 1 netherhells of a hangover L8er. I better put you safely away from any moar butts 4 teh time bieng, untill U sober up." While the Ambassador stuffed the woozy scuti into the shrunken-down Vulpitanian coach, a voice amid the trees declared: "HUDALALEIGH!! A double kill!" I wasn't sure whether to dash into the brush toward the voice (and the presumed source of the arrow shots) or flee in terror from this bow-wielding menace. Since it hadn't shot any more arrows, I decided it must not pose a threat to me and my party, so I calmly pulled the arrow from the Yew-man's head as I stood up. The arrow had a soft flexible cup instead of a barbed point at the end. 4Image: 1209zomg I was pondering the significance of this discovery when I heard a cheerful whistling accompanied by a crashing in the underbrush. I saw the fern-headed tip of an elfin longbow bobbing above the bushes ... and then a pair of pointy black ears ... "ZOMG!!" the Ambassador yelped in delight. "ITS SAINT REYNARD!!1!" ******************************************************* 1Image: 1209notsaint "Hoodalolly, tis not quite a saint I am," Estvan chuckled as he emerged from the bushes and struck a pose. "But sure and the comparison is flattering indeed! Adler, me lad, if you'd be so kind as to give me those arrows? Sure and they weren't so easy to make, and it's holding on to them I'd like to be, just in case they're needed again." "What are these?" I asked, as you pull the other arrow from Miss Bowpeep and hand them both to Estvan. "Tis elf-shot," Estvan cackled gleefully. "One of the Elvish Arts, to be sure! It looked as though the situation was bound to get ugly, so I pooked a short distance away and dredged me old artillery out of me Elfintory. As the Irenaead says: With our elfin bows we shot them / though they charged with sword and axe / the day was won, the High King got them / when we halted their attacks. Many's the year since last I used elf-shot, and glad I am to know I've still got the knack." "What did it do to them?" I inquired. "It's not too worried you should be, especially over lowfolk. Sure, and right now they're both happily dreamin' of shrimp. And now, if you'll excuse me .." 2Image: 1209elfishways Estvan knelt and scooped up Miss Bowpeep in his arms. "Quick for the Gateway!" he chortled. "What in Fuma's name are you doing??" I demanded. "Begorrah, lad, when you've elf-shot a lowperson, it's obligated you are to play some manner of prank on them," Estvan grinned. "I was thinkin' we could set her to spinnin' gold for a few days, and then release her back into the woods fifty years later." "Absolutely not!" I objected. "We don't have time for all that! There's an urgent crisis back home, and I'm strongly opposed to the idea of bringing more lowfolk into Faerie right now." "Aw, it's no fun you are," Estvan pouted. "And might I add, it's not a very elfly attitude you're showin'. Ach, well, I suppose we could just stuff both of 'em into a hollow log where they'll wake up after a decade or two." "We've got to leave them," I insisted. "Things are going wrong all around us and we need to get back." "And why is it do ye think that things are goin' wrong?" Estvan snapped. "Sure, Elves have grown weak because they won't take any time for fun, and they won't take time for fun because it's weak they are! Tis a vicious cycle. No wonder the lowfolk don't respect us anymore! If it's ever helpin' the realm ye hope to be, then me boyo, you'd best learn to start actin' like a proper Elf!" "All right," I acquiesced. He did have a point. "But make it a quick one. And we really can't take them with us. There's too much going on." "Sure, and that's the spirit!" Estvan grinned. "What shall we do?" Estvan and I started brainstorming prank ideas. 3Image: 1215giggles After a few minutes we were both stricken with fits of giggling. "So," I guffawed "we'll swap their clothes, dye the sheep's wool blue, and tie them to a chair with their feet in a pond ... and in their pockets we'll leave a note about Elf-gold having been donated to a cathedral in their name, and they have to find which one before the bishop tries spending the gold and excommunicates them." "Hudalaleigh!" Estvan gasped. "It's as full of ideas as Jack O'Napes you are, lad! Why ever did ye not want to do this?" "I have no idea," I snickered. "Sure, and we might not have enough time to drop off the gold at a cathedral, though," Estvan mused regretfully. "We could maybe have Doctor Kuhara examine them instead," I suggested. 4Image: 1215tailipoke "Sure, and that just doesn't seem as funny," Estvan shrugged, as he glanced over at Kuhara. The Doctor was curiously poking at the Scuti stuffed inside the miniature coach. I could hear curious whistling and indignant squeaking; I wasn't sure which of them was making which sound. The puzzled "GRONNK" came from the ant ... "HAY!" the Ambassador barked. "Get awway from that!" *********************************************************** A little while later, we disposed of the lowfolk and made our way at last to the Albric Tor gateway. 1Image: 1215gate "That's odd," I observed. "Somebody's camping in front of it!" 2Image: 1219whoops The bird, upon hearing our approach, hastily stuck his writing quill into his cap and tucked his notebook under his stool. "Who are you and what are you doing here?" I yelled indignantly as we entered the stone circle that surrounded the gateway. 3Image: 1219greetings "Greetings, honored lords and ladies," the bird intoned as he stood and bowed, with a flourish of his cap. "I am Percy le Gobelet, your humble servant. I hold all Elves, and the Court of Faerie in particular, in the highest esteem. I was told to expect a Royal party matching your description ... more or less. You yourself can be none other than the Prince Adler Young. I regret I do not have the honor of knowing your companions." "Sure, and who was it that told you to expect us?" Estvan asked, loudly enough to drown out the Ambassador's terrified whimpering. "It was a large skunk, regally rotund. He said his name was Roland." Percy fetched his notebook from beneath his camp stool and opened it to a particular page, which he held up for us to see. 4Image: 1219mugshot "Forgive me; it is not the most accurate likeness, but he looked something like this," Percy said, pointing to a drawing on the page. "I think I know him," I admitted. "It looks like my great-uncle, the Grand Marshal. How did you happen to meet him?" "I have been here for a fortnight, studying the stones, and one evening suddenly he was there. He told me to expect you, and to tell you that you have been away far longer than you think, and that your brother has made a, er, Fuma-blasted mess of things. His words." "How long ago was this?" I asked in alarm. "As I said, I have only been here a fortnight. The great skunk visited me three days ago." "Could have been any amount of time back home," Estvan pointed out, "due to the unpredictable temporal slippage twixt Faerie and the low world." "We'd better get back right away," I suggested. "I don't like the sound of that message." *************************************************** "There is one slight problem," Percy piped up. "The portal does not seem to be working." "So you've tried it, have you?" I asked, with a dubious scowl. "It leads to a tiny underground chamber - not to an enchanted kingdom," Percy admitted unabashedly. "There are slabs of stone engraved with spiral patterns and some empty burial niches, nothing more." 1Image: 1219inside I leaned into the portal and peeked directly into the chamber underneath the scrying tower. "Well, it seems to be working properly now," I announced, as I stepped back outside. "Let's get going. I don't want to lose any more time." 2Image: 1219mayi "May I come with you, Your Highness?" Percy wheedled. "It has been my lifelong dream to visit Faerie." "The portal must be set up to work only for elves," I mused. "However, we could use a pigeon to go out ahead of us and draw ... attention ..." "I'm a turkey," Percy explained, "but it would by my honor to do whatever's required of me, Your Highness." "Very well, you may come along," I consented. "But stay close, otherwise you won't get through the gate." 3Image: 1223hooray "Oh goody goody goody!" Percy cackled. "At last I will have plenty of authentic material for my book on the geography and customs of Faerie!" Hmmm. The bird seemed a bit too eager. I wondered if maybe I shouldn't have relented so easily. "And you have to pay a forfeit," I added hastily. "Anything," Percy gushed excitedly. "That quill in your cap, the one you were writing with ..." I began. 4Image: 1223doop "DOOF!" Percy exclaimed as a small arrow thwacked into the back of his head. ************************************************* "HEY!" I protested. "Who did that? As messed-up as things already are, what difference could one lowfolk bird make?" 1Image: 1223noway "Cloud B all teh differance in teh world!" Ambassador Sweatcheeks exclaimed. "Taht guy was a lowfolks SPY, their totaly untrutsworthy! Esteban isnt teh only 1 who knose Elfshot! I cant just stand bye wile U bring undezirable forreigners N2 oure precious relm of Ferrie!" "I wanted to know if that quill was one of his own feathers," I sighed, as I rolled the unconscious Percy over to his camp stool. Estvan and I quickly put the bird's feet into a bucket of peat, wrote a few pages of nonsense in his notebook, and filled his pockets with smoked herring and Elf-gold so he would have something to ponder when he woke up ... Then we all proceed into the gateway. 2Image: 1223bootup As soon as we were through the gate and standing in the chamber under the scrying tower, SALV Chetsweeks' eyes opened and she emitted a soft musical chime. "OOH!" the Ambassador exclaimed. "Good, shes booting up!" Ambassador Sweatcheeks loosened the straps holding Alice, and she slithered off the back of the ant onto the floor. She lay there in a tangled heap for a few seconds, making muffled clicking and whirring sounds, then slowly stood up and said "sis calibration." With a satisfied chuckle, the Ambassador turned and opened the door of the miniaturized Vulpitanian coach. He pulled out the Scuti and eyed it skeptically through his monocle. The Scuti hung almost motionless except for a listless swishing of its fluffy white tail-tip. "Serves U rite, LOL," the Ambassador scolded. "I hope we all lerned a little lessen 2day." He poked the Scuti into a hole in the back of Alice's suit. The vixen made more whirring sounds and then said "log N.I.D. verified." "I should probably report to headquarters," I said, thinking aloud. "Or maybe I should let the Court and Cabinet know I'm back. Either way, the rest of you have no reason to be with me ... except you Vulpitanians. I would like to invite you, Ambassador, and Miss Chetweeks, and the body of Sir Evan Klive, to the main reception room of Imperial GHQ." "I must return 2 my embacy!" the Ambassador protested. "They must B missing me bye now!" "You can do me the honor of accepting my invitation, or as Right Hand of the King I can command you to appear," I clarified. "N that case, we will B grudginly attend," the Ambassador smirked. "However, SALV Chetsweeks is not ambulatorry yet." "Well then, wait here," I instructed. "I want to go up onto the porch and have a look around before anybody opens that door." 3Image: 1223lookout I ascended the spiral staircase and looked out across the scrying tower porch. It seemed even more overgrown and dilapidated than it was the last time I had seen it. I gazed out toward the walls of Albric Tor. Were those the tops of decorative shrubs? They seemed to be pruned into strange and artistic shapes, but I couldn't quite make out from here what they were supposed to be. I wondered what kind of changes Estmere had made to the realm during my absence. If my great-uncle described it as a "Fuma-blasted mess" then I could only imagine what sort of tomfoolery was going on. I suspected (and halfheartedly hoped) that the palace would be staffed entirely by semi-nude ungulate femmes. What else could my brother have gotten up to? Depleting the royal cellars? Wasting the entire treasury in a wild fit of Sartorius-like profligacy? It really depended on how long I had been gone. I tried to reach out to Marshal Roland via elfmind, but it didn't work. "Fuma's mercy!" a voice exclaimed from below. "Prince Adler! Is it really you? Long time no see!" 4Image: 1223itsyou I looked down and was surprised to see Lemmy standing on the ground, smiling up at me. He was definitely not the elf I would have expected. "Agent O'Possum!" I exclaimed. "What brings you here?" "Old Marshal Roland left standing orders to come by here periodically and look for you," Lemmy explained. "Grand Marshal Theronmyathus will want to know you're back. Everybody is going to be so glad to see you!" "Theronmyathus is Grand Marshal?" I asked in astonishment. "Yeah, the realm couldn't wait any longer for you to re-appear, so the King appointed him to the post. Youngest elf ever to make General in the history of the Royal & Imperial Army, so of course he was the natural choice to take over after old Rollie retired." "Holy Fuma!" I exclaimed. "What else happened while I was gone?" "Well, I got married, for one thing," Lemmy grinned. ****************************************************** "Whoah," I exclaimed, momentarily at a loss for words. "How long exactly have we been gone?" "It's been about twenty years," Lemmy shouted back. "I suppose a lot of things have changed," I yelled. "You bet they have," Lemmy hollered. "The economy is struggling because all of the Gaps have pretty much isolated many of the provinces, slowing down Imperial administration and making trade difficult if not impossible. We've even had to resort to growing our own food here at the Capital. A lot of elves have moved away, out into the country, and Albric Tor is pretty thinly populated now. King Estmere has decreed Clothing-Optional Fridays to help keep up morale, but it hasn't been very effective. The people want him to marry; they think it'll put vitality back into the Empire, but royal maidens are scarce, and .. well .. the King likes 'em with hooves." "So Theronmyathus is Grand Marshal now," I bellowed. "That takes a load off my mind, honestly. He's perfect for the job." "He sure is," Lemmy boomed. "And everybody is one hundred percent behind him, in all the various agencies he oversees. Every promotion he's earned has been based entirely on merit. He's racked up a lot of achievements and demonstrated exceptional ability." "What rank are you now?" I loudly inquired. "Still Agent Inspector Third Class," Lemmy barked. "What about my great-uncle Roland?" I shrieked. "How's he holding up?" "He accepted Master Winterbough's invitation and moved up to Elfhame," Lemmy yelled. "Last I heard, he was working on a book and was actually in better health than he's had in a long time due to the wholesome food and the bracing mountain air. He goes on a lot of walks, apparently. Hey, would you mind coming down, or opening the door so I can come up? I'm getting hoarse from all the shouting." "Is the door locked?" I asked. "Yeah, it is." I climbed down the stairs and opened the door. As far as I could tell, it wasn't locked, but everyone else shrugged and muttered about not being able to open it. 1Image: 1230slydevil "So you got married, eh, you sly scoundrel," I chuckled, elbowing Lemmy in the ribs. "Who's the lucky girl?" "You remember Mara, the former Watch Lieutenant from Athstead ..." "HER??" I blurted. "But isn't she Unseelie? She tried to kill us!" "She's a good elf now," Lemmy grinned. "Completely reformed. It's a pioneering program devised by the Vulpitanians to help reduce our prison population and integrate criminals back into society as productive citizens. Mara was one of the first test subjects. All she has to do is wear a false tail that monitors her movements ... she and I have been so happy." I was not sure what to say. A false tail?? Turning the Unseelie Seelie? I knew what this sounded like, but I didn't want to be the elf who suddenly showed up and ruined my best buddy's domestic bliss. "Any kids?" I finally managed to squeak. "Not yet, but we're working on it," Lemmy said proudly. "We're hoping Fuma will bless us soon." 2Image: 1230toodloo "Wile all this dose sound Xtreamly charming," Ambassador Sweatcheeks interrupted, "SALV Chetsweeks & I have inportant things 2 do. & 1st we must honor an engagemt @ teh Faerie GHQ. If youll re-enlarge oure carriage well B on oure way." The Ambassador gently guided a somewhat dazed-seeming Alice toward the carriage as Estvan and I worked to return it to its normal size. "C U @ head quarters yr Highness," the Ambassador grinned as they climbed aboard and rumbled off toward Albric Tor. "Shall we go?" I asked the rest of my group. 3Image: 1230wellwait "It's waitin right here we'll be," Estvan declared. "From the sound of things, I've a feelin you'll soon be needin the portal - and us - quite soon, quite soon." Doctor Kuhara sat down with a heavy sigh and leaned against the wall of the scrying tower. "Aw, Pooky," Yolanda pouted. "I wanted to go shopping at the Capital." "Sure, and you heard what the possum said, dearest," Estvan quipped. "Trade is down and morale is low. They're growin' their own food, so sure it is there won't be any fancy goods for sale at all, at all." "You go right ahead with your old comrade there," Estvan continued, turning back to me. "We'll be right here when you come back." "Head on back to GHQ," I told my chaise driver with a shrug. "I'm going to walk back into town with Agent O'Possum. It will give us time to catch up on everything that's been happening." 4Image: 1230iknowher As soon as we had walked out of earshot of the tower, a large-ish insectoid shape zoomed out of the shrubbery and buzzed around us. "Stay back, Your Highness," Lemmy growled, pulling a flyswatter out of his coat. "Let me handle this." "Hold on, Lemmy," I protested nervously. "I, um, I think I might know her." *********************************************************** "These creatures are VERMIN!" Lemmy exclaimed. "What possible relation could you have to one of them?" "Settle down!" I objected. "It looks like she's trying to tell us something." 1Image: 1230tellimpop "That's right, Father," the Ixie chirped indignantly at me. "Now that thou hast returned, thou canst tell this oaf and all the other dastardly Elves that they dare not treat us so disrespectfully! Are we not of royal blood?" I would have very much liked to have been at the gates of the Albric Tor fortifications at that moment. I would have liked to have been just about anywhere other than here, contemplating almost any other information than the news I had just received. But alas, here I was, and that had just happened. FATHER??? Did this Ixie really just call me "Father?" Surely that must have been a quaint figure of speech. These creatures still said "thee" and "thou" after all; it probably meant nothing. "When you call me 'Father' do you mean ..." I started, hesitantly. "My mother was Ann of the Ominous Orse," the Ixie answered. "I was conceived when she and thou engaged in a bout of amorous wrassling, twenty years agone." Suddenly my mouth went dry. I desperately needed a drink ... but in my present state I doubted that I'd be able to keep it down. I wished I knew how to do Pooka Vanish. Anything to get away from this awkward situation! But alas, the only time I had ever pooked, it was involuntary, due to extreme distress. There was no way to perfectly re-create the conditions that allowed me to - "Now that thou art returned, Messire, my sisters would dearly like to meet thee," the Ixie chirped. "Our mother told us much about thee, and I see that she did not exaggerate." 2Image: 0104pook Suddenly I wasn't there. Lemmy, still brandishing his flyswatter, looked around in surprise. 3Image: 0104howmany "Good idea, Daddy-O," the Ixie chirped. "Now we may converse without yon Possum listening in." "You ... you pooked along with me?" I asked, feeling queasy. "Of course. All of thy daughters possess magickal talent far beyond the ken of ordinary Ixies." "How many," I asked, dreading the answer. "How many daughters do I have?" "A few dozen at least," the Ixie replied casually. "I haven't counted them." "Any sons?" "There were a few at first, but our males do not live long." "Wait! Wait a minute!" I objected. "How is this even possible? I mean, your mother was an Ixie and I'm a skunk-elf. There's no way we should have been able to reproduce." "Thou hadst turned thyself into an Ixie for the love-making," my daughter grinned. "And tis said, 'The naughtier the venery, the more Fuma will bless it.' To hear our mother tell the tale, thou twain wert quite naughty indeed that day!" "I find this hard to believe," I protested. "How do I even know you're telling the truth? Ixies aren't bound by Thorwald's laws, are they?" "I am half elf," my daughter haughtily insisted. "Therefore must I speak at least half truth." "Where's your mother?" I demanded. "I need to hear this from her before I'll even start to believe it." "Our dear mother is dead," my daughter sniffed sadly. "Ixies are short-lived creatures indeed. It is hoped that I and my sisters will have greater longevity; our brothers all lived double the normal span." "I'm going to have to acquaint myself with all these details," I sighed, "but I really need to get back to town, check in with the Marshal and my brother the King, all that stuff. Care to tag along?" "Long have I dreamed of this day," my daughter chirped excitedly. "I would be pleased to accompany thee. However, my kind are not exactly welcome in the city. If I may disguise myself as a fashion accessory?" She landed on my jacket and closed her shell over her back. "Everyone is totally going to notice you there," I whispered. "They'll not." 4Image: 0104oddbadge Suddenly, as if by magick, the shiny insect seemed to blend into my uniform. Even knowing she was there, I found it extremely difficult to notice her. "Wow. You might be related to me, at that," I acknowledged. "What's your name, by the way?" "We all of us answer to 'Ladybird'" she replied, with Elfmind. "That will do for now." ELFMIND! She just used Elfmind! This was definitely no ordinary Ixie. As far as I could tell... (Last images of 2014 in this post! 2015 begins, and we inch ever closer to the point where new commands can be issued.) ******************************************************** I strolled around a bend in the path, and found myself at the South Gate of Albric Tor. 1Image: 0104bushy The portcullis was up, which was not at all unusual - but the guard posted at the gate looked like ... a shrubbery wearing a helmet and a chainmail shirt, and with a jury-rigged wooden arm loosely holding its pole-axe. The streets were eerily empty. I spied a few elves wandering here and there about their business, and a small scattering of stalls in the market square, but nobody hailed me as I made my way to the General Headquarters building. 2Image: 0104marshaltheron "Ah, your Highness Prince Adler," Theronmyathus croaked as soon as I entered the building. "Good to see that you've returned. Please tell me something about these Vulpitanians who claim to be here on your invitation. I've got Former Ambassador Anton Sweatcheeks, Dangerous Agent Alice Chetsweeks, and an unidentified corpse .. all three of whom are stinking up my lobby, and I'd like them gone as soon as possible." "Former Ambassador?" I asked, surprised. 3Image: 0104sacked "ITS TRUE," the ex-Ambassador wailed, clutching a paper with the remains of a Vulpitanian seal still clinging to it. "I was AWOL 4 20 yrs & they replaced me, plus they want back rent 4 Alice & teh coach, otherwize its Absconding w/Vulpitanian State Property. On top of witch, they demand Alice B returned so she can bee Troubleshot &, & .. they want my meddles back & my monicle too! I CANT HAS MY MONICLE?!?!? O PLZ, anything but that! I tell U, Prince Alder, Im almost better off not going back at all! Wattle I do??" 4Image: 0110owe2much "Oh dry up, SALV Sweatcheeks," I blurted insensitively. I was getting more than a little tired of the portly fox's constant drama. "What's so great about a monocle that everybody can tell isn't a corrective lens at all, and a bunch of cheap costume medals?" "Their teh regalia of my offics," the Vulpitanian wailed. "Marx of repsect among Vulptianians. Loosing them wood B 2 loose my honor & self respect Ntireley! But I cant afford 2 pay teh fees. Oh whoa is me!!" ********************************************************* An idea occured to me. This might be my opportunity to get some answers at last to the questions that had been puzzling me. I leaned close to the former Ambassador and whispered in his ear: "Perhaps I might be able to pay your debts so you can keep your regalia, in exchange for some information.." 1Image: 0110grateful "I CAN HAS MONICLE??" Anthony squealed excitedly. "O yes yr Highness, what do U want 2 no?" "Not here," I shushed. "We'll settle the details later, in private." "How much do you owe, anyway?" I asked. "Only around 50 zillion silver bars," Anthony replied. "Shouldnt bee much to a air of Irenaeus." "FUMA'S MUSK!" I yelped before I could stop myself. "That is quite a hefty sum! How did you ever amass such a debt?" SALV Sweatcheeks merely hung his head shamefully, and didn't answer. "Marshal Theron," I segued, sill reeling at the size of the former Ambassador's debt. "I believe I have twenty years' back pay owed to me?" "You believe incorrectly, Your Highness," Theronmyathus replied. "Salaries are reckoned by time actually spent, not time elapsed due to temporal slippage between worlds." "That hardly seems fair," I protested. "And besides, this whole situation is backwards. Lowfolk are supposed to be abducted to Faerie, to find that one day here was twenty years back in their world. It isn't supposed to happen the other way around." "Clearly it does," the eagle shrugged, "and my treasurer is not responsible for the random vagaries of transit between the worlds." "Well then I still have one day's pay coming to me, don't I?" I persisted. "You would if you were actually in my employ, Your Highness. But technically you are not under my command, and members of the royal family do not draw Army salaries simply for existing." "What about my stipend?" I protested. "I am supposed to receive an allowance from the Crown!" "You'll have to take that up with the Secretary of the Exchequer," Theronmyathus explained. "Not my department." "Its hopeless! Im outta here!" former Ambassador Sweatcheeks groaned as he turned toward the door. "Better 2 die N teh lowfolk lands with my honor & my monicle, then 2 live N shame N Faerie w/out it!" "Hold it right there, Your Former Excellency," I snapped, grabbing the chubby Vulpitanian by the scruff of his neck. "I invited you here to explain your actions at the Gap to the Marshal, prefatory to me delivering my own report." 2Image: 0104marshaltheron "That happened twenty years ago," the Marshal croaked imperiously. "Army Intelligence is no longer interested in your case. We know all we need to know about the Gaps. Fall into one, you land in the lowfolk world. The Gaps have split the realm, requiring travel through the low lands to get to most of the provinces. Terribly inconvenient, but there seems to be no solution, so we're making do as best we can." "I noticed that the Capital is nearly deserted," I stated. "Are the Gaps the sole reason for the Empire's decline?" "No," the Marshal replied sternly. "There has also been ... Moral Decay." He gave me a piercing look which I couldn't quite decipher. "Were my eyes deceived, or did I see a bush in a hauberk guarding the gate when I arrived?" I asked. "You saw truly," the Marshal replied. "The Shrub Knights perform a valuable service, filling out our thinning ranks - and they do it for very little pay, without complaining." Another icy glare. "Are we just about finished here, Your Highness?" Theronmyathus continued. "I do have a multitude of other matters requiring my attention, and I want these foxes gone from here as soon as possible." "Not back 2 teh embasy!" Anthony whimpered, clutching at my sleeve. "Theyll fine me out teh wazoo if I dare show my face their!" 3Image: 0110finefine "I, for one, am in favor of returning to the Embassy," Miss Chetsweeks declared. "My duty is to Vulpitania. Tikki tick." "But weren't you listening when SALV Sweatcheeks read that letter?" I implored. "Vulpitania has decreed that you're to be shot!" "Trouble-shot," Alice clarified. "It's harmless, a bit like being elf-shot but more .. beneficial. You see, they've received a report of my unfortunate mishap in the lowfolk world, and are afraid my body may be malfunctioning. But it's unnecessary. I feel fine. Beep." "What a lovely badge you're wearing, Your Highness," Alice continued after a brief pause. "Where ever did you get it? Bzz tock?" "WHAT THE??" Marshal Theronmyathus shrieked as he lunged toward me and grabbed the Ixie off the front of my jacket. 4Image: 0110caughtyou "A SPY!" the eagle declared angrily. "Quick, someone bring me a large jar! And it doesn't have to have holes in the lid!! We're going to find out why you're here, pest, and why you would dare sneak right into GHQ disguised as an ornament on the King's own brother!" "HELP!" my daughter squeaked in dismay. ************************************************** Now this was going too far! I was the Prince and Right Hand of the King! If the Grand Marshal wanted to treat me insolently, well I was a grown Elf, I could shrug it off. But now, he was threatening my (ostensible) offspring? THIS WOULD NOT DO. I pulled the Hand hat and its accompanying wand of office out of my elfintory. 1Image: 0110unhandher "UNHAND MY .. um .. IXIE!" I commanded. 2Image: 0115unhand "I MEAN, LET HER GO!" I bellowed as I saw Theronmyathus grab one of the Ixie's arms and start to pull. "Your Highness, I realize that when you left, Marshal Roland was still employing these creatures as informants," Theronmyathus croaked, without letting go of my daughter. "But we've since uncovered their treachery. Prince Roland thought they served only him, but the Ixies were spying for everyone! This deceitful little monster should be destroyed immediately." "Marshal, if information regarding the Gaps was the only thing I discovered, I'd hardly need to waste my time talking to you about it," I snapped. "I invited these Vulpitanians here because they have information relevant to current threats to the realm, not just the ongoing threats that have divided the empire into pieces. If you would prefer to be left to your own business then I'm perfectly willing to go out and solve the Empire's problems on my own, so you can continue sitting comfortably in the capital in your fancy uniform. Now give me my Ixie back, before I get properly angry. I found her on my way back into town, and I wish to er, question her about what's been happening while I was away." 3Image: 0115bow "As you command, Highness," Theronmyathus croaked with a formal bow. I couldn't really tell because of his gravelly voice, but it almost sounded like he was choking up with emotion. He released the Ixie and she fluttered up to my shoulder. "If I may offer a bit of advice," the Marshal continued after a brief pause, "don't rely on any information that Ixie gives you unless you can independently verify it. And avoid confiding any sensitive information to her." Hmm. In light of this cautionary warning, I began to wonder anew if this creature really was my daughter. It seemed extremely unlikely, if not impossible, and I was not sure whom I could confide in nor how I could seek verification of her claim without seeming insane. 4Image: 0115elfmind "Your mother had magickal zapping powers," I thought at the Ixie. "How come you didn't shock the Marshal to make him let go of you?" "I did not want to reveal to him the full extent of our abilities," she replied. "How was Alice Chetsweeks able to see you when nobody else could?" I wondered. "That one is not an elf," my daughter theorized. "Her perception is not so easily fooled." ******************************************************* 1Image: 0115mole "Here you are, sir," the Mole Changeling muttered as he bumbled into the room, carrying a half-empty jar of pickled onions. "It's the first jar I could get my hands on after you called for one, sir." "Thank you Sergeant," Theronmyathus croaked, "but as it turns out, the jar won't be needed after all. Plus, and I realize I didn't specify this, but an empty jar would have been preferable." "Just as well you didn't need it then, sir," the mole chuckled sheepishly. "I also did some quick calculation, and based on the current exchange rate, fifty Vulpitanian zillion silver bars -" "What have I told you about listening in on people's conversations?" Theronmyathus chided. "Sorry sir. Bad habit, I admit, but I thought the information would be useful. Zillion silver, you see, is a special Vulpitanian alloy -" "I thought a zillion was a type of container?" Theronmyathus interrupted. "No, thats a wazoo," former Ambassador Sweatcheeks chimed in. "When U has a large amount of zillion, U keep it ina wazoo." "Yes, well, as I was saying, sir," the mole continued, "at the current rate, fifty zillion silver bars would come out to exactly 23 Imperial gold coins and three coppers." "Oh, I should be able to raise that without much trouble," I exclaimed. "If it was bazillion bars, taht wood B a differnt matter," Anthony confided. Suddenly everyone flinched as a strident voice rang out from the entryway! 2Image: 0115newambassador "How longk, Marshal, are you plannink to delay ze rightful surrenderink of Vulpitanian property?" the uniformed vixen demanded. "Vee haff had reports already of ze Prince's party returnink to Faerie, unt yet ze tings zat belonk to us, zey haff not yet showed up at our Embassy! ZO! I, Supreme Ambassador Lady Viceroy Alberta Chessvick, fairest of ze fair unt slyest of ze sly, haff come in person to fetch zem! SALV Alice Chetsveeks unt ze body of SALV Evan Klive, zese tings belonk to us, unt I vill be takink zem now!" "All these Vulpitanians are to remain right here until I say otherwise," I commanded. "So says the Hand of the King!" "Your jurisdiction does not extend to matters of Vulpitanian sovereignty, Highness," the Ambassador declared. "What about me?" Anthony Sweatcheeks asked hopefully. "U need me back @ teh embasy 2, rite?" "PFUI!" the Ambassador snorted. "All ve need from YOU, SALV Sveatcheeks, is ze return of your regalia." 3Image: 0115lookylook "Zo, vhy ve need zat junk is somezink of a mystery," she continued. "Chust look at how fancy MY monocle is! Unt zese medals! Zey are much shinier unt golden zan your old ones, unt check out zese ribbons, aren't zey lovely? Your regalia is almost vorthless, but ZO, Vulpitania does not giff avay trinkets for free! Return zem to me at once, SALV." With a heavy sigh, SALV Sweatcheeks slowly unpinned the medals from his sash .. he removed the monocle from his eye and carefully wound the cord around it, then placed everything in the Ambassador's outstretched hand. "Now, SALV Chetsveeks, hoist zat corpse unt follow me back to ze embassy!" "Happy 2 oblige, clack tap," Alice responded cheerily as she hefted Sir Evan's carcass off the floor and trotted out the door after the Ambassador. 4Image: 0115baww "Welp, thats it," Anthony sniffled. "My career is over, Im ruined, they demoted me to SALV, my life mite as well B over ..." "I thought you already were a SALV," I replied, putting a comforting hand on his shoulder. "No, I wasnt a Simple Abject Lowly Vassal B4 2day," the Vulpitanian sniffed. "I mite as well go away 2 teh lofolks land & change my name 2 Andy Dugal & hide out til I die of neglect." "I promise I'll buy you a monocle and then you'll feel like a new elf again," I stated reassuringly. "But before I can do that, I have to meet with my brother, the King!" "It will be difficult getting in to see him before his afternoon debauch, er Cabinet Meeting has ended," Theronmyathus croaked ominously. **************************************************** 1Image: 0122vixens A sudden thought occured to me, and I turned to watch the Vulpitanians as they walked out of the building. The eyes of Alice Chetsweeks' Scuti stared balefully at me, but I was relieved to notice no eyes on Ambassador Chesswick's tail. "So the Ambassador is at least a real elf," I muttered, partly to myself and partly to SALV Sweatcheeks. "They really do look a lot alike. Could she be the model they based Alice's body on when they built it?" 2Image: 0122dasraciss "OMG U R SUCH A RACIST," Anthony exclaimed indignantly. "All foxes look alike 2 U, is that it? & than U wonder Y teh skunks Empire is so disliked." "Disliked?" I asked, intrigued. "NVR MIND," Anthony blurted. "Just upset about my demotion is all. 4get I said anything." "Marshal Theron," I said, turning toward the perpetually scowling eagle. "I wish to keep former Ambassador Sweatcheeks here until I have a chance to properly interview him." "Your Highness, I really don't -" the Marshal croaked. "Put him up in my old quarters, you know, the old supply closet? And make sure he's fed and comfortable." Theronmyathus bowed stiffly in acknowledgement of my orders. "You just relax," I said reassuringly to SALV Sweatcheeks. I briefly considered hugging him, but settled for a friendly pat on the back instead. "Everything will work out, and I'll get you a new monocle, you can rest assured of that." I motioned Theronmyathus to come closer so I could whisper something to him, since I wasn't sure he could use Elfmind - and I wasn't sure I wanted him to know that I could use Elfmind. "Alice Chetsweeks is a mechanical construct piloted by a creature called a Scuti or a Tailipo," I informed him. "And these creatures are being used to help rehabilitate Unseelie members of society," the Marshal replied. "I personally do not like them, but the Empire is officially grateful for this assistance from our Vulpitanian allies during this time of crisis." I was a little surprised at this, and it threw me off balance. I decided to take a risk and ask: "Has there been any news of my mother, Mavis MacFogg?" "Still a traitor to the Realm and still untraceable, along with the arch-intriguer Utica," Theronmyathus croaked. "I would like to catch either or both of them, but our resources are stretched thin. Until I can make it a priority, those two will remain elusive." I was not sure how I felt about this. "Well then, I guess it's time for me to call on my brother the King," I declared. "Meeting or no meeting, I need to see him, and he probably needs to see me." I was tempted to make a big entrance and announce my arrival with magickal Signs and Portents like some raging elf of the Long Ago ... but alas, I still hadn't mastered that degree of power. It would probably be counter-productive anyway. My mother had always told me to be subtle. "Avogadro, escort His Highness to the palace," Theronmyathus said to the mole sergeant. "The .. the P-palace?" Sergeant Avogadro stammered nervously. "I know the way," I retorted. "I do not require an escort." "As you wish, Highness," Theronmyathus replied with a bow. I wandered out of GHQ and back onto the avenues and alleys of Albric Tor. I still couldn't get over how quiet it was! There was hardly anyone around. Suddenly I rounded a corner and almost bumped into Brother Matthew coming the other direction. 3Image: 0122bromatt "Fuma bless us!" the badger bellowed jovially. "Look who it is! The Prince himself! I'd heard a rumor you were back in town! Long time no see, youngster!" I dutifully removed my hat as the monk grabbed me in a friendly headlock and gave me a vigorous Benedictio Interphalangeal. "I'm headed up to the palace to see Estmere," I explained after he was done. "Is there, um, anything I should know about?" "Quite a robust and strapping buck, is our young King," Brother Matthew guffawed. "Remarkable enthusiasm for practicing the Sacraments of Fuma, day in and day out. But ... well, I hate to criticize, but he's missing an important element of the Mysteries: The element of Fertility! Twenty years of his frolicking with celebrants unsuitable for producing an heir has taken a bit of a toll on the Empire's morale. Say, if you're going to see him, could you perhaps drop a few hints that it's high time he settled down and married a nice Mephitist princess? You're his brother, maybe he'll listen to you." "I'll see what I can do," I answered, vaguely. I bid farewell to Brother Matthew and continued on my way to the palace gate. I found the entrance guarded by an elf on one side and a shrub on the other. 4Image: 0122sirbush "Let me pass," I demanded. "I have business with the King." "I dunno. Meeting in progress. You'll have to talk to my superior officer," the elf guard replied sleepily, pointing at the shrub. "You're kidding," I retorted. "Nope. Seriously. He outranks me." "Let me in," I said to the shrub. "I'm the King's brother and Right Hand." The shrub's leaves rustled, and I heard a reply in the Voice of the Forest: "His Majesty is in the midst of his afternoon Cabinet Meeting." "I've been gone for twenty years, and it's imperative that I see him," I insisted. "I'm not taking no for an answer." "Very well, but keep your voice down. And lose the hat. You look ridiculous." I thought this was ironic coming from a bush with a hauberk and helmet, and a pole-axe shoved into its branches, but I recalled that the last time I saw Estmere, he had told me to get rid of the hat. So, I took it off and stowed it in my Elfintory. The gate swung open and I entered the Palace precincts. ************************************************************ I passed through a garden where ungulate women were basking in the sun, nibbling the vegetation, cavorting in pools and fountains. Some were dressed, some were not. They seemed to have little regard for their clothing, whether it were wet or dry or present or absent. Inside the palace the air was dark and cool with mingled odors of food and drink, spices, perfume, and pipe-weed smoke. A female gazelle reclined on a divan and languorously plucked melodies on a zither. A lithe elkess trotted away, giggling, down a corridor. There were lascivious paintings on the walls and licentious sculptures in niches everywhere. The floors and furnishings were festooned with haphazardly cast-off items of gauze and lace. I would have been upset if I had thought my own hereditary wealth had been squandered on this decadent opulence, but since I never had any treasures and didn't realistically stand to inherit anything, I could hardly begrudge what my brother had spent in turning the palace into a seraglio. "Look there, Sire!" my Ixie chirped from her perch atop my head. I had completely forgotten she was there! 1Image: 0122looksire "If I look where you're pointing and I see another naked doe, I'm going to be upset with you," I warned her. "No, Sire, there's a glint of gold," she insisted. "I think some coins have been dropped 'neath that settee." I looked, and sure enough, there were some coins under the furniture. I sifted around through the litter on the floor and found more. I proceeded to diligently search the entire room, even turning over the cushions on the chairs and sofas. In addition to some very interesting stains, I discovered a tidy pocketful of loose change, amounting to the sum of 23 gold, 3 copper. The exact amount of SALV Sweatcheeks' debt! What were the odds of that happening? If I had any doubt that Fuma had blessed me with Luck, those doubts were now dispelled! As I neared the Cabinet Chamber, the smell of pipe-weed grew stronger, and I heard muffled sounds of .. debate? .. coming from within. I started to get nervous. After twenty years of riotous living, what dreadful changes may have been wrought in my noble brother? I imagined him fat, inebriated, utterly dissipated, a blubberous parody of his former self. I was not at all sure that I was ready to handle such a revelation. Maybe, I thought, I should just stay away, so I could always remember Estmere the way he was ... NO! I came here to see him; he needed me! Faerie needed me! Steeled in my resolve, I warned my Ixie to stay out of sight, and placed my hand on the handle of the door. "The brandy shipment goes DOWNSTAIRS!" Estmere snapped as soon as the door opened. "What are you even doing up here?" "I'm not delivering brandy," I replied, peering through a fog of pipe smoke. "Adler?" Estmere's voice asked after a brief pause. "Is it really you, little bro? Approach, and let me get a look at you." 2Image: 0122estmereherd I stumbled forward through the haze. A few yards into the room, suddenly the clouds parted, and THERE HE WAS. The King lolled casually on a bench, surrounded by the Floozies of his Cabinet. He seemed to have grown some inexplicable sideburns (perhaps in homage to our ancestor Sartorius) and he had put on a little weight ... but I had to admit he looked a lot better than I expected. He looked pretty darn good, in fact, and he was gloriously attired in some sort of glittering, be-jeweled Royal Regalia. The Floozies regarded me with cool interest as Estmere slowly puffed on his pipe, then removed it from his mouth. "You haven't changed a bit, dude," he said finally, after looking me over. "Exactly the same as the last time I saw you. Been a while, hasn't it? Pull up a chair, take a load off, tell me what the heck you've been up to all these years. You want anything? Food? Drink? Smoke? Floozie? You just name it, bro, it's yours in like two shakes of a lamb's tail." Counselor Lana Lynne grinned and wiggled her tail to illustrate Estmere's statement. "Doris!" Estmere called, clapping his hands briskly. "Refreshments for my long-lost brother!" A leggy blonde doe sashayed into the room, carrying a plate of bonbons. She bowed politely and then sat on my lap. "You're cute," Doris purred. "Would you like a bonbon?" "Sure," I replied hesitantly, reaching for the plate. Doris playfully pulled the plate out of my reach. "Nuh-uh," she giggled. "Let me." "Dude, let her feed you one," Estmere insisted. "They're delicious." I reluctantly opened my mouth, and Doris placed a bonbon on my tongue. It was delicious ... smooth and creamy and melty .. it tasted like Persoc Tor peaches. "I get those specially made," Estmere explained proudly. "So, tell me what you've been doing for the past twenty years!" 3Image: 0129bonbons "It hasn't been twenty years for me," I explained. "I went out to investigate a Gap on the east road, and it engulfed me. I landed in the lowfolk woods and had to find my way back to the Albric Tor gateway. It only took a few hours." "So you don't have any awesome adventures to tell me about?" Estmere asked, somewhat disappointed. "That's kinda interesting about the Gap, but .. really? Nothing else happened?" "I've only been gone for an afternoon, and now I come back to find everything has changed," I reiterated. "You still look really good, by the way. The years have been extremely kind to you." "My Cabinet has been extremely kind to me," Estmere said with a grin as the Floozies giggled demurely. "It is one of the blessings of Fuma to keep an elf young. You should try it, Bro. It will do you a world of good. I'm sure Doris would be happy to assist." "You bet I would," Doris whispered huskily, with a Wily little wiggle to emphasize her sincerity. Suddenly I was feeling Very Uncomfortable! "Have the Vulpitanians developed new kinds of automata?" I asked abruptly. "Ones that can imitate all different breeds of elves?" "Dude, that kind of stuff was made illegal back in our grandfather Adler's time," Estmere informed me. "Nobody would dare work on such unethical and dangerous projects nowadays!" I didn't think I could continue this conversation with all these Floozies listening in. Who knew what dark masters they might be serving? "Hey Estmere," I thought with Elfmind. "Can you hear me?" "You okay, Bro?" Estmere asked. "You look like you got a cramp or something." "No, it's just ..." I floundered. "I'm not accustomed to having so many hot ladies around." "I remember what that was like," Estmere chuckled. "Do you need to be escorted to your chambers now?" "No, I'd like to talk to you .. um .. privately. Without so many people listening in." "Dude, anything you can tell me, you can tell them," Estmere insisted. "All I'm gonna do as soon as you talk to me, is tell them exactly what you said anyway. There are no secrets here. My Cabinet and I share everything. EVERYTHING." "Okay, well, in that case, here goes," I sighed. "Your Majesty, the Empire is in a sorry state. Trade has declined .. morale has slumped .. elves have abandoned the Capital in droves.. the Army is so short on soldiers they have armed bushes and posted them on guard duty! As our King, you are the living embodiment of Faerie." "And ...?" Estmere prompted. "Well, Your Majesty, the people are saying it's time for you to wed. And I am inclined to agree. Faerie needs a Queen. The Imperial throne requires an heir." 4Image: 0129bluh "UGH!" Estmere retorted. Dodie and Lana leaned in protectively toward him. "Skunk dames are so GROSS! They're fat and grouchy and they smell bad. They aren't like ungulate babes at all. Mmm, hoof-girls are so slender and graceful .. they're vegetarians, you know .. I love the way they move, and the clack their hooves make on the floor, and they have a herd mentality so you can keep a whole bunch of them and they don't mind .. It's like I've always said, 'A hoof in the hand is worth two in the ...'" Estmere kept talking, but his voice was drowned out by a stronger voice coming in via Elfmind. "An excellent proposal, Your Highness," Secretary O'Doe thought at me. "It was not suitable for any of us to broach the subject of marriage." "Now that you're back we can proceed to Stage Two," Counselor Lynne added. "Tell him about King Adland's daughter." ********************************************************* "... and besides which, there aren't any eligible skunk maidens of suitable rank to marry the King, so there!" Estmere concluded triumphantly. "I have to marry nobility, and there aren't any options among the nobility." "Before I left, I had word that Caer Adland was seeking an alliance," I informed my brother, having just been reminded of this myself. "Perhaps they are still interested. I'm told that King Adland has a daughter. She would, of course, be a Princess..." "An ungulate princess?" Estmere asked, suddenly interested. "I believe so, Sire, since the ruling family of Caer Adland is ungulates." I paused as Lana Lynne sent me more information. "You okay, dude? You've got that pained look again." "Not accustomed to this," I explained, patting Doris's knee. "Now then, I have it on good authority that Princess Edessa is extremely tall .. ridiculously tall .. an antelope .. dark brown with curly hair and stripes on her face .. long straight pointy horns .." 1Image: 0129dreamy "WHOOAH, she sounds awesome," Estmere drooled. "Esty," Dodie O'Doe pouted. "I mean, Your Majesty, you're not considering marriage, are you? What's gonna happen to us if you get married?" "I may have to turn all you Floozies out," Estmere mumbled dreamily. "Maybe my brother will take you in. We'll see." 2Image: 0129jester "Beware Caer Adland wiles!" a squeaky voice declared from across the room. "Why would Adland want to marry his daughter to a skunk? This union can produce no heir! She just wants to get her claws into you -" "Claws?" Estmere howled, suddenly overcome with laughter. "She has hooves, you silly creature!" "MEADOW??" I asked, horrified. "Isn't she terrific?" Estmere hooted, wiping a mirthful tear from his eye. "She's just so ridiculously tiny, everything she says sounds hilarious!" "You have planted the seed, Adler. Leave the rest to us," Secretary O'Doe thought at me. I'd had all I could take. With everything else on my mind, now there was this to deal with. GREAT FUMA! Sisterhood operatives in the King's cabinet, just as I had suspected! Some days it just didn't pay to get out of bed. And as if this weren't enought, there were at least half-a-dozen other things urgently requiring my attention. I rather brusquely shoved Doris off my lap and stood up. "Sire, I need to be excused," I blurted. "Can't stand it any longer, eh?" Estmere winked. "Very well. Doris, escort Prince Adler to the Hoffmann Suite." "Can Meadow come with me?" I asked, as innocently as I could. 3Image: 0204egad "YOUR HIGHNESS!" the mouse jester shrieked indignantly. "I am NOT a Floozie, and I am NOT yours to simply use as you please!" "Yeah Bro, that's totally gross," Estmere chimed in. "You could take your pick of my herd, all except my main two of course, and here you're asking for Meadow?? EWW." "Do not speak to the mouse," Secretary O'Doe thought at me. "She is not one of us. She cannot be trusted." "You're with the Sisterhood, aren't you?" I thought back. "Where's my mom?" "Mavis has removed herself from the possibility of being observed," Counselor Lynne explained. "We assume she is well. For now, just continue acting natural and playing your part." "Dude, you've got that pained look again," Estmere observed. "You totally need to release some tension, little Bro. I am officially ORDERING you to go with Doris to the Hoffmann Suite." 4Image: 0204escort I followed the slinky doe out of the Council Chamber and down a corridor. I did not feel good about what had just happened. I had been duped by that blasted Sisterhood! I played right into their hands, er, hooves, and they had my brother right where they wanted him! I remembered my mother telling me that the plan was to prevent Estmere from fathering an heir, because he was not a true elf, something about a disaster to the Empire, blah blah blah ... but Fuma blast it, he was the King and he was my brother, and I felt I owed him a certain duty. Maybe there was a way for him to breed - I seemed to have been able to reproduce with an Ixie, if what my so-called "daughter" told me was true. All I had to do was figure out how I did it, and then help Estmere accomplish the same feat, hopefully without it getting totally creepy... I had a feeling that there would be no way to avoid this whole situation turning simply awful. *************************************************** "You're going to love the Hoffmann suite," Doris cooed cheerily, interrupting my dismal reverie. "It's like full of pillows and mirrors and music and visionary paintings of King Estmere, and of course there's the special Bicycle which was a gift from Vulpitania, it was invented by a fox named Hoffmann, did you know that? and that's how the suite got its name ..." As the doe babbled on, suddenly a thought occured to me! 1Image: 0204findzandar "Ladybird!" I thought at my Ixie, who I assumed was still somewhere nearby. "Before I left, there was supposed to be a changeling named Zandar Skönk, who was meant to be betrothed to Estmere. I think the fate of Faerie may rest with her! Do you think you and your sisters could find her for me?" "Ixnay, Sire," my daughter replied. "Zandar is safely out of the way at present, and tis best for the plan that she NOT be found til well after the King is wed. Thou'llt need to journey to Caer Adland soon, so tire thyself not overmuch 'pon Hoffmann's strange Cycle nor in frolicking with yon Floozies! For now, I'll away and give thee some privacy." "Wait," I thought at the Ladybird before she flew away. "Do you work for the Sisterhood?" "Sometimes" she replied. Huh. I hadn't expected her to admit that. "Can you take a message to Meadow Grainmaster, the Court Jester?" I asked. "Sorry, Sire. We don't deal with her kind," my daughter retorted as she flitted away down the corridor and out a window. Great. So, now the mouse - whom I suspected may have been one of Marshal Roland's secret agents - thought I was some kind of pervert. Oh well, she already had a low opinion of me, so how was this any worse? She was a jester now, not an Agent. No reason to fret. I pondered the possibilities of perhaps transmogrifying a skunkess into an ungulate, or maybe turning Estmere into a stag for the purpose of producing an heir. I suspected that transmogrifying someone else was probably a lot trickier than transmogrifying myself. I was going to have to learn a lot more magick and practice obsessively before attempting such spells on royalty... "We're here," Doris interrupted my musings with a coy giggle. "The Hoffmann Suite." I was greeted by a swirl of colored light and sitar music - and also by Herbalist Extraordinary Caravaggio - when the door to the Suite swung open. "I hoid ya was comin so I tought I'd show yez aroun da place foist so's ya don't hoit yerself on dis crap," the tortoise explained. "Never mind all da music an da tacky decor, dat's just His Majesty's peculiar tastes an it ain't got nuttin ta do wit how dis equipment woiks." "Great Fuma ..." I gasped. "Those paintings! They look like they're watching me." "Dey probly are," Caravaggio advised. "Dere's a space behind dat wall where yez can peep out tru da eye-holes. An dat big mirror over dere, on da udder side it's a big window. Dis whole joint is crawlin wit Floozies, an some a dem gals is truly depraved. Actually dat's da main reason fer dis Suite in da foist place: Ya gotta be in top physical condition ta keep up wit dis many frisky dames." I followed the Herbalist into the room, glancing apprehensively around at the walls as we went. "Free weights," Caravaggio continued, pointing to a pile of metal doodads on the floor. "Pick em up an set em down. Lift wit yer legs, not wit yer back. Chin-up bar. Bench press. Climbin' steps. Dis pulley an tackle is fer whatever. An here, o course, is da centerpiece. Da Hoffmann Cycle." 2Image: 0211hoffcycle "What in the world is it?" I asked. "Bicycle. From a lowfolk woid dat means 'two wheels'." "I only see one wheel," I observed. "Right yez are," Caravaggio agreed. "So I dunno, gotta be some kinda Vulpitanian nonsense, a joke or sumpin, but what ya do is, ya get on dis seat an ya woik dem pedals wit ya feet, an ya ride it." "Ride it where?" I asked. "It don't actually GO nowheres," the tortoise explained. "But it's fulla some kinda Vulps magick what makes ya tink yez travelin ta all kinda crazy places." "Don't give in to astonishment when you're riding that thing, Your Cute Highness," Doris advised me. "It can really blow your mind if you don't know what to expect. You'll see all kinds of things you never imagined before." "Yeah, well, I've told yez pretty much all I can tell yez," Caravaggio summed up. "So now I'll just excuse meself so yez an ya lady friend can have a good time. Just take it easy an don't get injured." "I'll hold you so you don't fall off the Hoffmann Cycle," Doris offered after the Herbalist left the room. "No way am I riding that thing," I declared. "It sounds totally stupid." 3Image: 0211cuddle "You're tense," Doris sighed as she twined her arms around me. "Let me help you relax." I was almost offended at this Floozie's amateurish use of Wiles. "What's your story?" I asked her. "How did you end up a part of my brother's harem?" "I have a degree in Applied Quondam Botany from Persoc University," Doris explained as she snuggled against my neck. "I came to the Capital looking for work, but there aren't many jobs to be had. Fortunately I'm pretty and I have hooves, so the King's talent scouts offered me a position here. Otherwise, I dunno, I guess I'd be scratching out a meager living on some dirt farm, or begging in the streets. Or renting out my body for a lot less than I get here. It's a rough world these days." "What in Fuma's name is Applied Quantum Botany?" I asked. "Quondam," Doris corrected. "It's highly technical. Do you really want to talk about that, or would you rather see the trick I can do with my tongue?" I was considering the possibilities as Doris's hooves wandered a bit lower, but then a pair of Floozie servants walked past in the passageway on the other end of the Suite. 4Image: 0211overhear "Life is pleasant enough here at the Palace," I heard the sheep saying, "but what about the state of the Empire?" "I got a letter from my folks," the oryx replied, "hinting that things are even worse than they seem." "I don't have time for this foolishness," I snapped, pushing Doris away. "I've got an Empire to save. Give me those bonbons and return to your quarters, or wherever it is you go when you're not on duty." "I don't please you?" Doris sniffed. Oh great. Here came the Crocodile Tears, a basic first-level Wile. This was kid stuff!! "There's nothing wrong with you that a few stiff drinks wouldn't fix," I told her. "But I have more important things to do, so run along! Oh wait, is there anything else to eat besides bonbons?" "We have marshmallow pie," Doris wailed, wiping her eyes. "I'll pass," I decided. Who in their right mind would bake a sore-throat remedy into a pie? Clearly, there was more wrong with Estmere's administration than met the eye. *********************************************************** I left the Suite and wandered around the Palace, asking directions from various Minor Floozies I passed, until I found the Map Room. This room did not seem to get much use. The furniture was dusty. 1Image: 0211map At the center was an elaborate relief map of all of Faerie. It radiated a subtle magickal aura, probably from spells that kept it constantly updated. There were little models of all the cities and towns in the land ... it looked like the rivers actually had water in them ... various provinces were shown in different colors; I wasn't sure what the colors meant, but the effect was quite lovely. I could have stood there looking at this map for a long time, relishing its intricate detail, but I was on a mission! There was no time to tarry! I found Caer Adland on the map. I wasn't sure of the scale, but it looked very far away. If these gray patches were Gaps, then it would seem that all roads from Albric Tor to Caer Adland were blocked. To get around the Gaps would require a sojourn in the lowfolk lands ... unless ... YES! It looked like there was a water route that would enable me to remain in Faerie the whole way! All I had to do was get a small packet boat, float down the Rill until it connected with the Athafon just above Athstead, and then ride it all the way down to Caer Adland. I had never traveled by boat before; it would be an adventure! An adventure called for stalwart companions! I hustled back to GHQ and requested Agent O'Possum be detailed to accompany me. The Marshal's office granted my request with surprising alacrity, and not half an hour later, Lemmy and I were strolling the riverside docks. "Now, Mara expects me back in a week," Lemmy reminded me for the twelfth time. "So none of these crazy twenty-year excursions." "I'll do my best to keep to the schedule," I assured him. 2Image: 0211rivermaster Suddenly a cloaked figure stepped into our path! "Your Highness," the intensely staring, mysterious otter declared, "if you're traveling by river, you are going to need my services." For a moment I was tempted to just turn around and leave. There might be a simpler way to solve the Empire's problems; one that didn't require an arduous journey to Caer Adland. But then again, an elf without adventures was like .. like .. an otter without swim trunks! "Rivermaster Izzy?" I exclaimed. "You're looking, um ... healthy. And still wearing your swim trunks, I see." "In my business, one must be ready to get in the water at a moment's notice," the otter replied mysteriously. "This cloak is not only my mark of office, it is also supremely functional." "Badge of office?" I reiterated. "What exactly is your business these days?" 3Image: 0217buffgruff "I am His Majesty's official Booty Inspector along the river channels," Izzy declared sternly. "I can sniff out contraband wherever it might be hidden, and it is my duty to ensure that all proper tariffs and duties are paid. I know this river like the back of my ... HAND. Used to be in the Frolic Club, you know. I AM NOT A PIRATE! I don't know what you've heard, but it isn't true. Nor am I a dark servant of Iku-Turso. I am simply attuned to the river, its currents and smells." Something under Izzy's cloak sneezed. "What was that?" I asked, suspiciously. "What was what?" Izzy snapped. "Who ever heard of a sneezing arm?" Knowing what I knew about the Scuti, I could not simply shrug this off. Suppose the otter was possessed by one of them? Izzy would definitely bear watching ... "Follow me to my boat," Izzy suggested. "And stay close. These docks may appear deserted, but there are unsavory and Unseelie characters lurking everywhere down here." We followed the Imperial Booty Inspector down the pier to the most ramshackle-looking boat I had ever seen. .. actually this was the first boat I had ever seen up close. I had always imagined them sleeker and more orderly than this. Izzy's boat looked like the builders changed their minds several times before finishing it. 4Image: 0217shouldthat "Is that supposed to be leaning like that?" I ask, pointing at what might have beeen a mast, or a ladder, or maybe just a misplaced support beam. "No," Izzy replied. "But it does not impede the functioning of this vessel. There aren't any good shipwrights around these days .. and besides, this craft particularly suits my specific needs. You couldn't build such a perfect Booty Inspecting vessel on purpose no matter how hard you tried." I could not help but acknowledge the truthfulness of this statement. "I suppose you have a similarly mismatched crew of unlikely oddballs and misfits," I theorized romantically. "My budget generally doesn't allow me to hire a crew," Izzy stated. "And the Juniper will only hold five elves plus myself. I usually sail her alone, and conscript extra hands as needed. Speaking of which: It is not my policy to carry passengers. You and your bodyguard will have to earn your passage by rowing." "ROWING?" I asked indignantly. "I'm the Prince and Right Hand of the King!" "In today's Faerie everybody works, Your Highness," Izzy explained. "Even royalty. However, if you don't like rowing you could always earn your berth as my cabin-boy..." "I guess I'll row then," I quickly decided. "Very well. Go below and grab an oar," Izzy ordered. "We'll be casting off in a few minutes." ********************************************************* 1Image: 0217estmerehere I stumble into the hold and found a bench. As my eyes adjusted to the gloom, a voice said "Hey Bro. Small world, huh? What are the chances?" "ESTMERE??" I yelped. "What are you doing here?" "I gave my Cabinet the slip as soon as you left, and came down to the docks," Estmere admitted. "I gotta get to Caer Adland and check out my potential bride-to-be. Guess you had the same idea." "Your Highness, please let me handle this," I pleaded. "I can make all the diplomatic arrangements and bring the Princess back to you." "No way, Bro. Some things have to be done in person. I wanna see her before any kind of deal is made." "Well, it looks like we will be sitting right next to each other for a while," I observed "So why not tell me how the Empire has been and what you've been doing for the last twenty years." 2Image: 0221kingreflects "The Empire seems to be doing fine," Estmere mused. "If all the healthy young ladies I've seen are any indication ... hmm ... oh man, those twins from Licksburg ..." "Did I mention that Estvan Silverbrush and I pranked some lowfolk while we were away?" I interrupted my brother's lecherous reverie. "Dude, I thought you said you didn't have any adventures," Estmere retorted. "Well, pranking lowfolk isn't an adventure," I pointed out meaningfully. "At least, it USED to be considered standard practice." "So, wha'd you do?" Estmere asked, eagerly. "There was a yew-man and a sheep girl," I began. "Was she hot?" Estmere asked with increased interest. "She was like twelve years old. Anyway, Estvan elf-shot both of them, so we dressed them in each other's clothes - the sheep was wearing a very frilly outfit - and tied them to a chair in the middle of a pond. And then there was some nerdy bird outside the gate. The Ambassador elf-shot him and we put his feet in a bucket of peat, filled his journal with nonsense and his pockets with fish." 3Image: 0221guffaw "Dude, that's hilarious!" Estmere guffawed. "Man, I wish I had been there! You really do know how to have a good time. I mean, Floozies are fun in their own way, but they don't know much about things that are really cool. I'm honestly sort of stoked to be away from the palace and out doing something with my little Bro. I hope you appreciate how much freedom you have, dude." I was somewhat abashed by this admission. I didn't know quite what to say. "Hey Adler," Estmere said after a pause. "What are the odds that Princess Edessa will need rescuing from some villain right about the time we get to Caer Adland?" "I have no idea," I replied, somewhat puzzled by the odd specificity of the question. 4Image: 0221avast "AVAST THERE YOU LUBBERS!" Izzy yelled from his position at the helm. "Let's have a little more rowing and a little less conversation! There's a treacherous sandbar ahead and I'm not going to have this be the first time I get stuck on it! We need speed! SPEED!! Put your backs into it and ROW, you swabs!!" "I don't think you should speak that way to the K-" I started. "SSSH, dude, I'm incognito," Estmere stopped me. "Stashed my crown away for a reason, Bro. This is like, a Top Secret Mission, man!" "WHAT WAS THAT?" Izzy called from the helm. "Yes sir," I answered lamely. ***************************************************** "Don't sweat it Bro," Estmere panted as the two of us frantically worked our oars. "I mean, yeah, DO sweat it, but man, you gotta appreciate the simplicity of good old physical work. And by the time we get to Caer Adland, you'll be totally ripped! And I'll bet the horny babes down there will be all about gettin them some Adler if you know what I mean." I was too frazzled to respond to this. My heart was pounding and I could hardly catch my breath. "FASTER!" Izzy commanded. "There's a colony of very ugly reptiles ahead and we need to get out of their territory as quickly as possible." After a frantic burst of speed, we passed the alligator-infested waters, and there was a lull during which Izzy let us rest and catch our breath. I decided to try summoning one of my supposed "daughters" to find out if there was anything she could do to help me. "Ladybird!" I thought. 1Image: 0221contact "Right here, Pops," she thought back at me. That was quick; she must have been following this boat! "Have you been following me?" I asked. "Of course. Tis one of our sworn duties to keep a watch over thee. I mustn't be seen, so I shan't stay long, but know this: Thou'rt not alone aboard this vessel." "I know that. My brother is right there, and Lemmy and Izzy are somewhere abovedecks." "Not what I meant. And trouble awaits thee further down the river. That's all for now. Catch thee later, Daddy-o!" "ROWERS!" Izzy yelled from just outside the hatch. "Supper time! Come on up to the mess." "Where?" I asked. "The whole ship looks like a mess to me." "The dining room, you pert & perky little smart-ass," Izzy growled. 2Image: 0221cheflemmy I reported to the dining room, where Lemmy ladled out two steaming bowls of hot viscous goop for Estmere and myself. "Dude, what is this?" Estmere asked, with a note of horror in his voice. "It smells like garbage!" "Lemmy, is this even actually food?" I asked the possum sternly. "I'll have you know, it's an old O'Possum family recipe," Lemmy said defensively. "My mother used to make it all the time. Although, I didn't have some of her ingredients on hand, so I had to improvise..." "How did you get to be ship's cook while I ended up rowing in the hold?" "Because I asked the captain what other jobs were available," Lemmy replied. "I'm a legitimate Stewmaster," I pointed out. "I should be cooking and you should be rowing. We are trading places NOW, before you kill somebody with this slop." Lemmy was about to voice some sort of counter-argument when Izzy bellowed "FULL STOP! FULL STOP! We've got some sort of emergency ashore! Cast out the anchor and ready the gangplank!" "Ahoy the ship!" a suspiciously familiar voice called out up ahead. "Might you be headin' for Caer Adland with royal skunks aboard at all, at all?" 3Image: 0221hitchers "Fuma's Eyes, look who the captain is," Estvan cackled. "Sure, and it's maybe I should be the one flashin' a bit o' leg, me dear." Yolanda giggled and lowered her skirt. (line) MEANWHILE, hidden amidst the cargo: 4Image: 0221stowaways ************************************************* "Permission to come aboard, Captain Kersploosh," Estvan called out. "This is an official Booty Inspecting vessel on Imperial business," Izzy answered sternly. "By what right do you signal us and thus delay our mission?" "By the right of the Random Encounter," Estvan replied. "And whatever else might be convincin' you, because basically, me lad, we intend to come aboard." "I'm tempted to sail on and just leave them there," Izzy grumbled. "That's Estvan Silverbrush," I informed him. "He will just pook on board if he wants to." 1Image: 0226rummage "Sure, and we've gotten off on the wrong foot," Estvan called, extending his right foot by way of illustration, and rummaging inside the leg of his pantaloons. "If it's booty ye need to be inspectin' then sure, it's a load o' booty I've got right here!" He suddenly pulled out a preposterously large wad of rumpled scrolls and codices. "Hudalaleigh!" the old fox cackled. "Tis a trove of back issues of Hoof Fancy, the quarterly digest of ungulate beauty!" "Dude, let them on board!" Estmere urged. "Och, and here's one of Stag Party, how ever did that get in there?" Estvan exclaimed with feigned surprise. "Very well, you may come aboard," Izzy sighed. "Give us a moment to maneuver closer to shore and lower a gangplank." "No need," Estvan grinned as he pooked next to us and dumped the pile of paper onto the deck. "Here's the booty for your inspection ... oh, and I suppose it's lowerin' a gangplank you'll have to be after all, for me dear wee wifey." "No he won't, Pooky," Yolanda quipped from behind him. "Cushlamochree!" Estvan exclaimed. "Now when was it you learned to Pook, me dear?" "I dunno," the vixen shrugged. "I guess I just picked it up from being around you." 2Image 0226stagparty Meanwhile, Izzy had perfunctorily sifted through the pile of scrolls and pamphlets. "I'm going to have to confiscate this one," he announced, sternly scrutinizing the pages of Stag Party. "But you can have the rest of them back." "Sure and it's not really needin' em I am," Estvan sniffed. "SWEET!" Estmere exclaimed, pouncing on the pile of literature. "We'd best get back underway," Izzy announced. "Rowers, return to your stations." "Hold on!" I objected. "We haven't eaten our supper yet! Lemmy prepared some inedible slop -" Lemmy harrumphed in disagreement, but I continued talking. "- and it doesn't make sense for him to be Ship's Cook anyway! I should be the cook; I'm a genuine Stewmaster!" "He really is," Yolanda testified. "If you haven't had his stew, you should. It's amazing." "Fine," Izzy shrugged. "Mr. Opossum, give Adler the cook's hat. You're now a rower. We'll drift with the wind and the current until after mess. But then, you row!" "Now then," I announced over Lemmy's sullen objections, "I'll need about half an hour to whip something together, after I've dumped out Lemmy's slop and thoroughly scoured the pot .." "Absolutely not," Izzy countermanded. "We are very tightly provisioned, especially with all these extra passengers." (He scowled at the Silverbrushes.) "I can't permit any food to be thrown away. You'll have to put it to some use." 3Image 0226stewpuzzle "That's going to be a challenge," I said, musing on the possibilities as I strolled towards the galley. "At least let me help," Lemmy beseeched as he followed me. 4Image 0226yipe Suddenly Yolanda let out a startled yelp. "IZZY!" she exclaimed. "What's the idea, grabbing me? I thought you weren't into that kind of thing!" "I'm not," Izzy protested, abashed. "This hand of mine sometimes acts on its own volition." Before that thought could be pursued any further, a piece of the ship's railing suddenly broke off and sailed up into the rigging, where it spun around and crashed down on the other side of the ship. "What's going on?" everybody yelled. "Are we sinking?" "No, no, remain calm," Izzy announced. "It's just the Juniper reconfiguring itself for the treacherous waters ahead." "Izzy, where exactly did you get this ship?" I asked. "Remember Iku-Turso, the giant fish I fought? Well, a passing trader offered me a tidy sum for the remains of its carcass after you left. He wanted to pickle it and sell it as a delicacy in the Southlands. I helped him load it on board, and not a hundred yards downstream, his barge sank with all hands - barely a stone's throw from shore. I dove down at that spot and found a deep hole full of wreckage from many different eras, which I raised by means I'd prefer not to discuss, and it became the unusual craft you're standing on today." I looked quizzically at the otter, as a chunk of the foredeck spun away and splashed into the river in front of us. Then I turned and proceeded into the galley, to begin the puzzle of what to do with Lemmy's inedible slop. ********************************************************* Meanwhile, in the hold: Image: 0226sameoutfit The loud crashing of the reconfiguring ship drew Meadow and Doris out of their hiding places behind the crates. "FLOOZY!" Meadow hissed as she confronted the doe. "CLOWN!" Doris sneered. "How dare you come aboard the ship that Cute Prince Adler is on, and wear the same sexy outfit that I'm wearing!?" "How dare YOU wear a Covert Operative's uniform, to which there is no way you're entitled?" Meadow snapped. "I am here on official business, safeguarding the King." "Estmere? Is he on board too?" Doris gasped. "I can't let him see me! He'll put me to work! Not that I mind," she added hastily, "it's just that I've heard .. isn't venery aboard a ship unlucky or something?" Meadow simply wrinkled her nose in disgust. "Anyway, we should like, team up," Doris suggested enthusiastically. "I've only ever seen you in your jester outfit, which doesn't do you justice AT ALL. Girl, you've got to strut! You actually fill out that bodysuit pretty well, and we would make a totally hot bodyguarding duo. Whadda you say?" "I don't see that I have much of a choice at the moment," Meadow sighed. ******************************************************* Without warning, Yolanda suddenly turned and vomited over the railing. "Begorrah! Again, me love?" Estvan retorted. "I'm just seasick, I think," Yolanda groaned, wiping her mouth. "Sure, and we've hardly moved," Estmere observed. "And what about this mornin' wneh you were ill, and it's safe and dry on solid land we were? Come here and let me check on somethin' I've long suspected." 1Image: 0226thump Estvan placed his ear against his wife's abdomen and thumped her belly experimentally with his finger. After a few moments he stood up and announced with some satisfaction: "I believe it's pregnant you are, me pet." 2Image: 0303gulp "Pr ... pregnant?" Yolanda stammered. "How is that even possible?" "Well," Estvan chuckled, "perhaps a qualified Doctor could be explainin' it better than I. Sure, and we left Kuhara at the scrying tower, but I've no doubt that if we look hard enough -" "NO ANTEATER DOCTORS," Yolanda snapped. "As you like, me pet," Estvan crooned soothingly. "But it's sure I am, as sure as I'm an elf, that it's pregnant you are." 3Image: 0303whosthedaddy "Congratulations," Estmere said, looking up from his magazine. "Who's the father?" "Ochone, tis a good question, that," Estvan muttered suspiciously. "IT'S MY HUSBAND, OF COURSE!" Yolanda yelled indignantly. "Boring," Estmere yawned and returned to his intent perusal of Hoof Fancy. 4Image: 0303proudpapa "Hudalaleigh!" Estvan cackled. "Tis a father I am! Blessings of Fuma upon us all! Hoo hoo! I wonder if it's a boy or a girl? Maybe I could take a peek on the wee one with a bit of Elfmind ... or why not use a touch o' the Gramerye to hasten the gestation so I can meet the youngster sooner? Och, I can hardly wait at all, at all!" "YOU'RE NOT GOING TO DO ANYTHING WEIRD TO OUR BABY," Yolanda shrieked. "All right, all right, macushla," Estvan appeased. "I'll be leavin nature to its course, o' course. Calm yourself, now. Remember your condition." ****************************************************** Estvan wandered restlessly up to the helm, where Izzy was steering the ship. 1Image: 0303backseatpilot "Me wife is pregnant," the old fox announced. "Good for you," Izzy replied. "It's a precious cargo you're carryin' now," Estvan pointed out. "So steer gentle. Watch out for rapids. Keep to the deepest channels and sail crosswise from the breeze." "I know how to pilot this boat," Izzy retorted. "Why don't you go back aft and do whatever it is you Breeders do?" (line) Meanwhile, in the galley, I was still puzzling over what to do with Lemmy's cauldron of putrid slop. This was turning out to be quite a challenge! "I just don't have what I need here in the pantry to do this properly," I muttered. "Apples. Apples would help a lot, but I don't have apples." "SEE?" Lemmy interjected. "That's why I had to make do with what was available. I'm really not a bad cook." "I wonder how hard it would be to catch some fish?" I mused. "Hmmm... I wonder if there might be apples in the hold. Maybe I could apport some ingredients, or ... I bet Estvan could ..." "Now that's cheating," Lemmy protested. "You have an unfair magickal advantage over me." "If I didn't have to use your slop as a base, there wouldn't be any problem," I exclaimed in frustration. Lemmy looked hurt, and was about to say something, when Yolanda suddenly burst into the room. "IS DINNER READY YET?" she barked urgently. 2Image: 0303omnomnom Without waiting for a reply, Yolanda grabbed the cauldron of slop and started greedily devouring it. "Adler, this is way below your usual standards," she grunted in between mouthfuls. "I haven't even started working on it," I declared. "You .. you're eating that putrid slop that Lemmy made!" "See? Somebody likes it," Lemmy stated, with an air of triumph. "Hey Bro," Estmere said as he ambled into the galley. "When will supper be ready?" "Whoah," he added, noticing Yolanda with her face in the cauldron. "It's not going to be for a while yet," I admitted. "Although now it will be sooner than I thought, because it looks like Yolanda has just solved a problem for me." "Whatever, dude. Listen ... I'm going down below for a while, and I don't wish to be disturbed," Estmere sighed. "Man, I really miss my Floozies." "We've only been gone for a few hours," I pointed out. "I KNOW, dude," Estmere wailed in frustration, "and it's already driving me CRAZY! Can't hold out any longer, dude! That's why I gotta go below and 'Take care of something' if you know what I mean." "Riiight," I acknowledged, uncomfortably. "Well if you get a chance, look and see if there are any apples stored down there." "Will do, if I think of it," Estmere shrugged. "Catch you later, Bro." I watched my brother with a bit of concern as he hurried down the hatch to the hold. Those Floozies had really gotten him Wiled-up to the limit! Maybe I could add a little something to my stew that would help ease his mind a bit before we got to Caer Adland. Couldn't have him acting this way in front of his prospective bride! (line) MEANWHILE, in the hold: Doris and Meadow were eating apples out of a barrel they found, when they heard Estmere stumble down the ladder. "Quick! Hide!" Meadow hissed. "Somebody's coming!" Doris ducked behind some stacked crates, and Meadow scurried in after her. The mouse peeked carefully over the top of a crate, to see who it was that had interrupted her Covert Operative snacktime. "Fuma's Claws!" Meadow whispered. "It's the King!" "Estmere?" Doris whispered back. "What's he doing down here? Move over and let me see." Image: 0303lookylook "EWWWW," Meadow whispered. "OOOOH!" Doris concurred. ************************************************************** 1Image: 0309tummy "Ooooh, I don't feel too good," Yolanda groaned, clutching her belly. "That grody stew isn't settling. Maybe the baby doesn't like it ... or maybe it's the Baby-Making Gnomes forging my offspring on their anvil with their tiny little hammers. UGH." "Where on Fuma's green earth have you been gettin' your information, dearest?" Estvan inquired. "I doubt it's gnomes at all, at all. Probably that corset you're wearin' is too tight. Come here and let me help you unfasten it." Estvan unlaced the back of Yolanda's bodice and it popped off like a weasel jumping out of a box, leaving her standing there in her shift. 2Image: 0309howcouldyou "ESTVAN SILVERBRUSH!" Yolanda bellowed. "I thought I told you not to do anything weird to our baby!!" "Sure, and I didn't do anything, macushla," Estvan protested as he bent down to peer at Yolanda's enormous belly. "This is quite strange, it is. No count of weeks accounts for your bein' this far along. Tis quite mysterious." (line) Meanwhile, in the galley I was washing out the kettle and getting ready to start making some decent stew. It was a good thing Yolanda devoured all of Lemmy's slop! Now I didn't have to try to make something edible out of it, which probably would have been a futile endeavor. "Anything I can do to help?" Lemmy asked hopefully. "Nothing I can think of," I replied distractedly as I mulled over possible recipes in my head. With a sigh and a shrug, Lemmy trudged out onto the deck and approached Izzy. "Hey," the possum initiated. "I think we might have met briefly in Athstead, but we haven't been properly introduced. Agent Inspector Third Class Lemuel O'Possum, O.I.F." "Captain Bertrand 'Izzy' Kersploosh," Izzy muttered. "Rivermaster and Imperial Booty Inspector." 3Image: 0309bells "Do you hear bells?" Lemmy asked, turning toward the sound. "Hey, it looks like there's an old ruined temple on the river bank over there." "Oh Dear Fuma," Izzy grumbled desperately. "Ignore it. We need to keep moving! Where are my rowers? WHY ISN'T ANYBODY ROWING??" 4Image: 0309faketail Back in the galley, I opened a box labeled "SPICY STUFF" only to find it crammed full of mangy white fur. I panicked for a second as I pulled out what looked like a bedraggled Scuti, but it was only Izzy's fake Irenaeus tail. Why would he keep this thing in a misleadingly labeled box stowed in the back of a cupboard in the galley? I shrugged and put it back. There really was a surprising lack of ingredients here in this kitchen... Taking stock, I had rice and flour, a little bit of salt, lard, oats, onions, carrots, half a lime ... I found a dusty clay jar with a dried apple in it. Hmmm. Now this, I might be able to do something with. ******************************************************* I dropped the apple into the cauldron where my broth was starting to heat up, and commanded it with Gramarye to get bigger. 1Image: 0309bigapple Damn it. This was starting to get a bit frustrating. I hadn't been in the kitchen all that long, really, but it was starting to feel like an eternity. I couldn't understand why I was having such a hard time. Making delicious stews seemed easy when I did it in the Ferifax Festival kitchen - and again at the inn on the road to Persoc Tor. Was there something about cooking on a ship which was making this more difficult? I stepped out onto the deck to get some fresh air. Maybe I just needed to pause and clear my thoughts, and then a grand stew would come to me. 2Image: 0316boldchef I inhaled deeply of the clean river air, and concentrated on positive thoughts. I was a White Elf of the line of Irenaeus! I was capable of handling any adversity life might throw at me! I brandished my stew spoon stoically and reminded myself of Wise Professor Skunk's advice from his book _Adrift!_ "If you run out of food on board a ship, try to catch fish. If you can't catch any fish, eat your clothes. When you run out of clothes, draw straws to determine which of the crew will be eaten first." Actually that wasn't very useful in this situation. I cleared my mind and gazed out across the river. It was quite peaceful here, with the gentle tolling of a temple bell ringing out over the calm greenish water ... 3Image: 0309spicemerchant "Excuse me sirrah, click," a stranger interrupted my reverie. "I can tell by your hat that you must be the ship's cook, whrr. I have quality spices and edible ingredients for sale, cheap. Bzzz. Everything one copper to the pound; you cannot beat that price, blip." "You look familiar," I declared, staring intently at the merchant. "Do I know you?" "It is extremely unlikely that you'd recognize me, bzt," the merchant replied. Hmmm. What did Wise Professor Skunk say about buying food from strangers in _Safety at the Market_? "When dealing with a reputable merchant, ask him if the food is poisonous before buying any of it." "Are any of your wares poisonous?" I asked. "They could be if used properly beep," the merchant replied. "How many people do you need to kill?" "None," I answered, flustered. "I want non-poisonous ingredients." "I have those too bzt," the merchant explained, perhaps a bit crestfallen. I tried to use a low-level scrying on the sacks and crates in the merchant's boat, to get some idea of what was available ... but apparently the goods were packed in scry-resistant containers. That was an odd level of security for a traveling spice merchant. "Do you have parsley, sage, rosemary, and thyme?" I asked, formulating a recipe in my mind. "Are you going to Scarborough Faire? Ding?" the merchant inquired. "No, Caer Adland." "In that case, yes. I probably have those things, tick tick, and if I do the price will be one copper piece per pound." "How can you stay in business with such low prices?" I asked suspiciously. "I deal direct with the consumer," the merchant answered. "Also deliver the goods directly on board your ship. Blip." The merchant paused, considering his(?) inventory for what seemed like an inordinately long time, then emitted a pleasant chime and opened one of the sacks. 4Image: 0316babystuff "A box of spices, sir," the merchant declared. "Pay no mind to those other items; they are for something else entirely. Ticki-tick." ******************************************************* MEANWHILE, in the hold: "What's he up to now?" Meadow whispered as Estmere reached into a sack and scattered barleycorns across the floor. He produced a pair of castanets from his Elfintory and began clacking them languidly. "He's commencing the Dance of Frustrated Desire," Doris replied, her eyes misting up. "I must go to him." 1Image: 0309tugowar "Are you crazy??" Meadow hissed, tugging at Doris's sleeve. "You'll blow our cover!" "Unhand me, mouse," Doris rebuked. "My King needs me. I must stop him before he commits an act that is Offensive to Fuma." After a brief, quiet scuffle, Meadow landed a Super Secret Covert Operatives' Nerve Pinch on Doris's shoulder, and quickly dragged the unconscious doe farther into the hold, behind another few rows of cargo. 2Image: 0316estpeek "Must be RATS!!" Estmere whispered as he peeked cautiously over some crates. ********************************************************* Meanwhile, abovedecks 1Image: 0316omnom Yolanda stumbled back into the kitchen, looking for something else to eat. She was feeling unaccountably ravenous. Spying the enormous apple in the cauldron, she started tearing off hunks of it and stuffing them in her mouth. The apple was warm and mushy and appallingly bland, but Yolanda couldn't stop eating it... 2Image: 0316preggers A few minutes later, Yolanda staggered back out onto the deck, clutching her belly. "POOKY!" she wailed. "DO SOMETHING! My tummy hurts BAD, and no matter how much I eat, I'm still hungry! Haven't you learned anything useful in all your years?" "Begorrah, lass, it's nothin' I'm knowin' about the birthin' of babies at all, at all" Estvan muttered as he curiously scrutinized his wife's swollen abdomen. "All I can say for certain is what a midwife told me once. She said 'Mr. Silverbrush, get out of here right this instant!'" "I feel like I'm gonna explode," Yolanda groaned. Meanwhile, across the river, the tolling of the temple bell was getting more insistent, as a canoe full of darkly-robed figures pushed off from shore. As it got closer, chanting could be heard on the breeze: "IA! IKU-TURSO FHTAGN!" the words repeated over and over again. 3Image: 0316takewheel "AAARGH!" Izzy yelled. "These are treacherous waters, where the Rill joins the Athafon! The Aethstad ruins are just ahead! I need rowers! Damnation, I'll have to do it myself! You, Possum! Take the wheel!" Lemmy didn't even have time to stammer a reply before Izzy had vanished belowdecks in a swirl of cape. 4Image: 0316fastlemmy Suddenly the ship started moving at an alarmingly unexpected speed. "FIVE DEGREES TO PORT!" Izzy bellowed from the oar room. "What?" Lemmy whimpered. "TURN!" ************************************************************ 1Image: 0316lurch I lost my balance (and my chef hat) as the Juniper lurched violently beneath me. "I SAID PORT!!!" Izzy shrieked. The ship lurched and shuddered several times and then finally came to rest in a mostly upright position. I could hear Izzy bellowing somewhere down below decks as I grabbed the railing and attempted to pick myself up. 2Image: 0323spicedelivery I hadn't even gotten to my feet before the merchant was asking me, "Where do you want the ingredients, beep?" "What in Fuma's name are you doing?" I demanded. "Free delivery, as I mentioned earlier, click." Meanwhile, Lemmy dashed quickly to the captain's cabin, grabbed a glass and a decanter of something that looked like port wine, and then hustled down the ladder to the rowers' hold. 3Image: 0323glassofport "Here you are, sir," Lemmy said ingratiatingly as he poured a glass and offered it to Izzy. "YOU EMBECILE," Izzy growled. "You were supposed to steer to port! That means left! The ship's left, not your left! Now you've run us aground, in the worst possible place under the worst possible conditions." "I'm sorry, I didn't -" "GET OUT OF MY SIGHT!!" Izzy yelled. Lemmy scurried back up the ladder. "Useless, the lot of them!" Izzy ranted loudly. "I've got to get us off this sandbar, and apparently I've got to do it myself since the only person willing to help me is totally incompetent! So what if I don't know our current heading? So what if I can't see where we're going? The important thing is to get this ship moving! Like RIGHT NOW!!" He tugged heroically on the oars and the Juniper wallowed fitfully in the mud of the shallows where she was stuck. 4Image: 0323lemmydrinks Meanwhile, Lemmy slunk off to the galley, where he sat down with the bottle of port and proceeded to sulk. "Pardon me for not knowing nautical directions," he grumbled in between drinks. "I'm a Snoop, not a sailor." ***************************************************** 1Image: 0323estmope Estmere trudged up on deck from the cargo hold. He looked glum and dissatisfied. "Man, this trip is a real drag so far," he complained to whoever might be listening. "The mood down in the hold just wasn't right .. and what's with all the yelling and the ship shaking and whatnot?" Just at that moment, Yolanda let out an agonized wail. "Whoah," Estmere exclaimed. "A lady in distress, sounds like. Maybe I should investigate." He turned and moseyed toward the sound. "Hudalaleigh! Your Maj - I mean .. man .. hey, uh, you man!" Estvan exclaimed upon seeing the King. "Just the elf I wanted to see." "What's up, dude?" "I wonder if you might grasp me dear wife under the arms and so help her to remain upright for a bit? Sure and she's really strugglin'..." 2Image: 0323helpyolanda Yolanda leaned against Estmere as he supported her, and Estvan gazed thoughtfully at her expanding belly. "Not that I know terribly much about childbirth at all, at all," the old fox mused, "but this seems a bit ridiculous. Fairly certain I am, that it's not supposed to do that. I wonder if perhaps your eye-curse, along with your encounter with that Ladybird and your eatin' of a hearty servin' of Iku-Turso fillets - not to mention a ham haunted by the ghost of a Vulpitanian thaumaturgist - could have anything to do with this. Aye, I'm thinkin' it could be possible..." "I can't tell whether I'm starving or sick," Yolanda groaned. "Might it be that me own seed is just that potent?" Estvan wondered aloud. "Nah. Tis never had that effect before." "WHAT DO YOU MEAN, BEFORE??" Yolanda snapped. "Oh come now, dearie," Estvan chided. "It's thousands of years old I am, and well we both know that we're not each other's first love. Be that as it may, tis still a bit disturbing it is, to see you suffer so. Tugs at the heart-strings it does. Sure and I'd like to help you, but I'd not like to tamper with the baby. Perhaps if I made you bigger in proportion to your disproportionate abdomen..." "NO WAY," Yolanda protested. "I'm huge enough already." 3Image: 0323pookborn Suddenly, with a small "POOK" Yolanda's belly diminished, and a chubby fox kit appeared on the deck in front of her. "Estvan!" Yolanda scolded. "You said you weren't going to do anything weird to the baby!" "Cushlamochree!!" Estvan exclaimed. "Sure and I didn't do a thing, dearest. The wee one must have done it herself! How precocious! And look, she already has her fur and her eyes are open." "What do you mean?" Yolanda asked, confused. "Duh, even I know that babies are born bald, with their eyes closed," Estmere explained. 4Image: 0323babysalv Suddenly the spice merchant lunged into the midst of the group and deftly placed a tiny monocle in the infant's right eye. "Behold, SALV Silverbrush, click," the merchant declared. **************************************************************** Meanwhile, in the hold Meadow debated with herself whether to reveal her presence and help with the fracas on deck (of which she can hear muffled snippets) or remain in hiding so as to effectively and Covertly guard the King. Image: 0323doeinabox "Mmmm," Doris moaned sensuously as she awakened inside a large crate full of cotton where Meadow had dumped her. "Oh, Your Majesteeee ... I'm in the Snuggle Box ... with clothes on, for some reason ... won't you come and help me out of here? Anybody? Dodie?" "SHUSH," Meadow shushed. "You're not at the palace! Get a hold of yourself!" ********************************************************** 1Image: 0328drunklemmy Suddenly Lemmy burst out of the galley, waving an almost-empty bottle and raving semi-coherently. "I'll show YOU wha's port an wha's not port!" he yelled belligerently. "Have you been drinking?" I asked. "Here, let me see that bottle." "S port," Lemmy slurred. "Here y'go, have some." 2Image: 0328notport I sniffed the bottle curiously. "This is Worcestershire sauce," I explained, hardly believing it myself. "Thass ridiculous," Lemmy protested. "Who ever heard of a guy gettin' drunk on Worsheshtersheshtershire Shaush?? You think I don' know port when I taste it?" I gave Lemmy a pitying look but said nothing. "PFFF," he objected with a vague wave of his hands, then turned away and leaned woozily against the side of the cabin. I realized with a start that I had let Lemmy distract me from watching that spice merchant, who was acting in a Very Suspicious Manner... 3Image: 0328stoprighthere I turned to see the merchant backing slowly away from Estmere and the Silverbrushes, with a plump fox kit cradled in his(?) arms. Where did the baby come from?? "HEY YOU!" I commanded. "Stop right where you are! What are you doing with that baby? You're no spice merchant! I demand that you tell me who you are and your real purpose on board this ship!" 4Image: 0328behold The merchant took off his(?) spectacles and I gasped in sudden recognition! "ALICE!!! My old flame!" Lemmy wailed as he swooned and collapsed on the deck in a dead faint. "HAH! click," Alice Chetsweeks laughed triumphantly. "So now you realize who I am! Well, fear not, Your Highness, for I am not here for you today! bzzt I am simply an errand-runner, but your doom is nevertheless being wrought by these events. The child I carry is destined for the glory of the Vulpitanian Republic! Blip!" "That's mine!" Yolanda insisted. ******************************************************* "SALV Silverbrush, if you would be so kind?" Miss Chetsweeks prompted the baby. 1Image: 0328salvattack The little vixen turned toward the elves gathered on the deck, grinned, and giggled merrily. Everyone reeled before a sudden onslaught of Irresistible Cuteness! The most insidious Wile of all!! How could this new-born kit have already mastered it so thoroughly? 2Image: 0328googoogaga "Oh DUDE, she's SOOO CUTE!!" Estmere gushed. "What a Simply Adorable Little Vixen!" "Och, sure and that's my girl," Estvan squeaked proudly. "Just look at her cutesy-wootsey widdle paws!" "And the way the light glints off her tiny little monocle!" Estmere squealed. "It just makes you want to cuddle her and stuff her with cookies!" "*YOU GUYS!!*" Yolanda barked. "That weird unpleasant Vulpitanian person is absconding with my baby!! Estvan! Do something!" 3Image: 0328spare "Calm yourself, me pet," Estvan stated coolly, regaining his composure. "Vulpitania was owed something of this nature, so it's better and best to be lettin' it go. Sure and they'll not harm her at all, at all. Besides which - and don't go advertizin' this about - it appears we've got a spare." Estvan pointed at Yolanda's still-swollen abdomen and then put his finger to his lips in the universal sign for "SHHH." 4Image: 0328pardonme Miss Chetsweeks stepped calmly but quickly to the deck rail, where she met the group of robed cultists climbing aboard. "Excuse me beep," she said politely. "Excuse me." "Pardon me." "Ladies first." "Sorry, was that your foot? click" "Quite all right." "Excuse me." "Good day." "Good day, tick tick." "I knew this day would come eventually!" Izzy exclaimed as he suddenly came rushing up out of the rowers' hold. "The fiends have caught up with me at last and are aboard my ship!" *********************************************************** 1Image: 0328fierceizzy "Do your worst," the otter growled, "but you are NOT going to harm this child." 2Image: 0328cultists "We wouldn't dream of harming the Child of Omens!" a cultist declared. "Merciful Turso, what you must think of us, Captain!" "Wow, I can't believe I'm actually aboard the Sacred Bark," another cultist muttered reverently. "And look! It's the Hand! That is the Hand, isn't it?" "Not now, Jerry." "We bring gifts to celebrate the blessed birth," another cultist continued. "Special herbal cigars and a jug of our best Abbey Cider." "Hudalaleigh! Now that's more like it," Estvan cackled. "Come, gentlemen, and let us mark this joyous occasion with the proper solemnities! Mister, um, skunk sir, would ye be so kind as to fetch some glasses from the galley?" 3Image: 0328fishy I leaned casually against the rail to let the monks pass as Estmere hurried into the galley to get glasses. There was definitely something fishy about these guys. 4Image: 0407thehand "The Hand! The Hand!" the monks chanted reverently as they knelt and genuflected around Izzy, waving their disturbingly rubbery arms. "All hail the Hand of Iku-Turso!" Izzy sighed and reluctantly held his right hand aloft. The nostrils in his palm flared proudly, and the monks exclaimed in admiration. *********************************************************** 1Image: 0407ouch "Actually, I'm a Hand too," I declared, as I walked up behind one of the monks and trod deliberately on his tail. "The official Right Hand of the King." "OW!" the monk replied. "How wonderful for you! Could you please go elsewhere and not interrupt while we pay our reverence to the Hand? This is a solemn event!" "All right, you guys have seen the Hand," Izzy said, bitterly. "Will you get off my ship now?" "We must stay and witness the birth of the Child of Omens!" "Great," Izzy moaned. "How long is that going to take?" I strolled over to where Estvan was standing. "How can you stand there and be so cool after that Vulpitanian agent just stole your baby, and these fishy weirdos are fawning over the next one?" I asked. 2Image: 0407sknows "Och, sure and I've sired many a kit in my time," Estvan said thoughtfully as he watched the monks worship Yolanda. "But it's never a proper father I've been to any of them at all, at all. A busy elf's got no time for the raisin' of whelps! Tis called to a higher purpose I am! Vulpitania was owed its due, for all that. But sure, the one that was taken away by the lovely mechanical toy there, she's going to be exceptional, she is. Might have to check in on her some time ... but this other one now - adoration of piscatorial monastics notwithstanding - it seems a bit more ... average. I'm not sensin' a great deal o' power in it at all, at all." "Dude, weren't you working on making supper a while ago?" Estmere asked me. "I'm starting to get, like, pretty hungry." 3Image: 0407whenslunch "I ran into some unexpected difficulties in the kitchen," I explained. "But if Alice Chetsweeks actually delivered any spices at all, I might be able to whip something up now. There doesn't seem to be anything else for me to do at the moment." "You don't need to cook!" one of the monks jovially proclaimed. "We've brought plenty of provender! Everyone on the Sacred Bark is entitled to celebrate with us as we anticipate the Blessed Event! We've got salted tarragon cakes and salted horseradish! Salted cider! Salted cigars!" 4Image: 0407saucepossum "What about this guy?" a monk asked, kneeling next to Lemmy. "He's out cold." "Let's wake him," another monk suggested, gently slapping Lemmy's face. "Nobody is going to want to miss the celebration." "KNOCKITOFF!" Lemmy snarled drunkenly, waving his hand in the air. "Can'tchoo guys tell when a guy is playin' possum, he dozen wanna be dishturbed?" "Wow, he's really pretty thoroughly marinated," the first monk observed. "Do you suppose he knew we were coming, and did it as a gesture of hospitality?" "Doubtful. Land folk, as I understand it, do not think that way. He sure smells good though. I can't imagine him doing this for any other reason." "Maybe we should take just a little nibble, to be on the safe side. That way we can say we tried, but we won't have eaten him if somehow that's not what he meant. I mean, I'd hate to be rude or come across ungrateful, you know what I mean?" ******************************************************* Meanwhile, in the hold Image: 0407dorisport "Aww, they're having a party up there," Meadow moaned. "I can smell tarragon sweetcakes and horseradish, and it's making me SO hungry..." "Look what I found in the bottom of this crate!" Doris whispered excitedly. "A bottle of port wine!" ************************************************************** 1Image: 0407telegram "Psst, hey. Hey Dad," my Ixie daughter whispered to me. "I've got an urgent message for thee." "Let's adjourn to someplace a bit more private," you suggest. "How about I take you in the galley?" 2Image: 0416ixiehuh "Uh ..." the Ixie stalled. "Sire, even if we were the same size, that is not something I am into. Besides which, I am thy daughter! Though I am pleased to know thou art every bit as frisky as our mother told us." "What in the Netherhells are you blathering about?" I retorted. "For Fuma's sake! Is EVERYTHING kinky to Ixies? I just want to go to the ship's galley so you can tell me your news without anybody else overhearing! Or seeing me standing here, using Elfmind right out in the open with an Ixie!" 3Image: 0416messymess I stalked brusquely over to the galley hatch, and then stopped in momentary amazement when I beheld the ruins of the giant apple I had left in the cauldron. (line) Meanwhile, back on deck: 4Image: 0416badtaste "Are you bitin' me?" Lemmy demanded angrily. "Yes, just a little," the monk replied. "How does he taste?" the other monk asked. "Nowhere near as good as he smells," the first monk admitted reluctantly. "Actually he tastes pretty bad." "Aaahhh, yer full of it," Lemmy snarled. "I'm delicious." "No, you're not," the monk answered. "Spit him out," the other monk advised. "You tried a tiny sample, and that's all that good manners require." "PFEH," Lemmy spluttered. "You jerks are nothin' but jerks. If yer gonna insult my taste then go 'way an' leave me 'lone." *************************************************** Meanwhile, Estmere and Yolanda were merrily feasting with the monks. "This stuff is all pretty good," Yolanda observed, "but it's making me really thirsty." "Have some more salted cider!" a monk offered enthusiastically. "Do you have anything that isn't salty?" Yolanda asked. "Certainly not!" the monk replied indignantly. "I'll take another one of those tarragon sweetcakes, dude," Estmere requested. "And put an extra slice of horseradish on it. Man, I love me some horseradish." "We grow them along the riverbank," the monk proclaimed proudly. "I dare you to eat an entire one without stopping!" "Hand it over, dude," Estmere demanded boldly, "and stand back!" 1Image: 0416horseradish About halfway through the horseradish, Estmere's eyes started watering. "Whoah," he muttered. "This thing is really strong. I'm definitely gonna need a glass of something unsalted." "Get me some too if you find any," Yolanda requested. (line) Meanwhile, back in the galley: "So, what's your news?" I asked my daughter. "An urgent message from Albric Tor," the Ixie declared. "The King and his Fool have gone missing." I scowled at the Ixie for a few seconds. "I thought it was urgent," I muttered. "You flew all this way and distracted me from the fishy monks' party, to tell me that my brother is missing from the capital?? I already know that!! He's on board this very ship with me!" "And his Fool, Sire," the Ixie reminded me. "Meadow is missing too?" I pondered. "Okay, I guess that might have been worth knowing. I wonder where ... could she be following him?" "That I could not say," my daughter shrugged. "But I should also tell thee that further down the river is a swamp - my tribe's homeland - known as Gladsome Antglade." "You mean ... the fabled domain of ..." I stammered in mixed awe and terror. "The Duchess of Daisies, yes," the Ixie acknowledged. "She is real." I shivered as I recalled tales of the Duchess of Daisies which my mother and other ladies of the Court told me when I was a little elflet... 2Image: 0416amoment "Beg Pardon, Your Highness," Estvan said as he poked his head into the galley. "It's not interruptin' anything am I? I only thought, seein' as everyone's distracted with one thing or another, now might be a good time for me to be teachin' ye some magicks that will be needful for you to know." 3Image: 0427heyestvan "In peace, greetings, the semi-legendary Estvan Silverbrush," the Ixie chirped excitedly. "It is a great honor to meet thee. Perhaps thou'lt demonstrate a secret spell known only to Fuma's most sincere devotees?" "Sure and it's married I am," Estvan replied dubiously. 4Image: 0427fumasakes "ESTVAN!" I exclaimed, lunging forward and grabbing the old fox by the shoulders. "You've gotta teach me some way of hiding or disguising myself, for we're headed directly into Gladsome Antglade and the lair of -" "The Duchess o' Daisies!" Estvan yelped. "Fuma preserve us! It's best I teach you Pooka Vanish then, lad, and quick so I can get off this cursed ship sooner than soon!" ********************************************************* INFO BREAK! According to legend, the Gladsome Antglade was once a temperate highland where tea was grown. The Antglade nobility resented the Mephitist government's strictures against Unseelie practices such as enslaving other elves, and eating lowfolk. Even worse crimes are whispered of in some of the stories. During the reign of High King Yngvar, the Duchess of Daisies led her people in open rebellion against the Empire. This rebellion was viciously put down, as was the Antglade itself - literally. Mighty magicks were used to turn prosperous tea plantations into miserable swamp ... and there amid the reeking fens the Duchess was said to lurk still, imprisoned as long as the Empire shall endure, but ever ready to perpetrate wickedness on anyone foolish enough to trespass in her domain. ********************************************************* In the hold: 1Image: 0416drunkdoris "I shay we go on up there an' join the party!" Doris suggested enthusiastically, waving the nearly-empty port bottle for emphasis. "You seem to have partied plenty right here in your box," Meadow retorted. "Now SHUSH, somebody's coming!" Estmere stumbled down the ladder, murmuring "HAH HAH HOT!! Oh man oh man oh man, there's gotta be something to drink in one of these crates! WHOOO it feels like the inside of my skull is peeling off!" "That's strange," Meadow whispered to Doris. "The descendants of Irenaeus are well-known for their love of spicy food. Odd that Estmere can't handle it..." "He has a very sensitive tongue," Doris whispered with a knowing grin. Estmere began rummaging through the crates in the hold, and the two femmes crept further back into the shadows. 2Image: 0427hotnuts "Mount Kodak hot lava flavored spicy pine nuts??" Estmere wailed as he examines the contents of the tenth crate. "No, no - AHH - this will not do at all! I would settle - HOOH - I would settle for a handful of oats at this point - YOWW - or some cheese. Gotta be cheese down here somewhere!" 3Image: 0427bigrat Estmere turned suddenly at the sound of a scuffle behind some crates. "That's gotta be one of the biggest rats ever," he mused. "But where there's rats - FFF - there's probably cheese..." 4Image: 0502cheese "All right!" Estmere exclaimed as he fortuitously pulled a large wheel of cheese out of a box. "At last! Cheese! It looks smooth and white and creamy .. this should be just the thing." He took several huge bites out of the cheese, and chewed with gusto. 5Image: 0502hotcheese "HOT CHEESE!!!" Estmere wheezed in agony. "WHY, FUMA? WHYY???" ******************************************* 1Image: 0427assuage "Calm thyselves, good sirs," the Ixie assuaged. "If thou stayest to the deepest river channels then thy chances of meeting the Duchess are slightly less than fifty-fifty. And take heart in this: Thy ship is run aground, so mayhap thou'lt never reach the Antglade after all." 2Image: 0502disdain "Dost thou really not know any offensive magicks?" the Ixie asked me disdainfully. "I can do fart noises and bad smells," I pointed out with some pride. "I mean for attack," the Ixie retorted. "For smiting enemies." "You can smite enemies with bad smells," I insisted. "But, um, I've done a battle-haze type of thing with a bow, where I killed three bandits in two seconds. I'm just not sure how I did it ..." "Huh. Some father thou art," the Ixie sniffed contemptuously. "Pray, proceed with your education whilst I go see if there be any real men aboard this vessel." 3Image: 0427hooray Suddenly the ship shuddered, and with a grinding, popping sound it lurched steeply to one side. "What's going on?" Yolanda yelled. "And where's the ladies' room?" "The Juniper is reconfiguring itself for these shallows, and we'll soon be underway again," Izzy answered reluctantly. "And the poop deck is aft. That means toward the rear of the ship." "HOORAY!" the monks cheered. "Soon we will arrive at the Birthplace! The Birthplace! The Birthplace!" The Juniper heaved itself off the sandbar and scudded smoothly out into the channel, where it began to drift along at a brisk pace. 4Image: 0502thouman "Thou!" the Ixie declared as she landed on Izzy's shoulder. "Thou virile he-beast art truly hunk enough to satisfy me!" "Uh .." Izzy replied dubiously. "What exactly are you supposed to be?" ***************************************************** Back in the galley, Estvan calmly elucidated the principles behind Pooka Vanish. "Sure and tis like an apport," the old fox explained. "Remember when you conjured your wee toy antie out in that field? Like that it is to Pook, save you apply the magick to yourself rather than an external object. Relax, think calmly, construct the formula with Gramerye in your mind, and then when you're ready -" 1Image: 0502clothes My clothes pooked across the room, leaving me bare and a bit chilly. "It's gettin' ahead of yourself you are, lad," Estvan remarked drily. "That technique is better used on wanton lasses .. or on yourself when in the presence of wanton lasses .. but present company hardly counts, I'm thinkin'. No, no, me boyo, stay right where you are. Sure and ye've magicked yourself into this predicament, so it's magick ye shall yourself out of it. When you've pooked your clothes back on, then and only then we'll continue." I concentrated on my clothes and tried to magick them back onto my body, but they simply flapped around me and then blinked away off into a corner, or into a cabinet, or into the stew cauldron - with Estvan cackling quietly to himself the whole time. (line) MEANWHILE, ON THE POOP DECK: 2Image: 0502privacy Yolanda squatted over a hole in the deck while a few of the monks peered over the stall partition. "Can I get a little privacy??" Yolanda snapped. "It's really hard to do this with people watching. As if you guys weren't creepy enough already." "We must be on hand in case of the expected," one of the monks cheerfully insisted. "We are rapidly nearing the Birthplace." "Birthplace! Birthplace!" several other monks answered from across the deck. 3Image: 0502plop Suddenly Yolanda gasped, and something splashed into the water behind the ship. "What in blazes was that??" Yolanda asked in surprise. "I told you so," a monk declared. "Fret not, dear lady. One of our order has already dived in to retrieve it." "He is born! He is born! He is born!" the monks chanted excitedly as they clustered around the starboard rail. 4Image: 0502packitin "WILL YOU GUYS KNOCK IT OFF WITH THE CHANTING!" Izzy bellowed. "I'm trying to steer this ship, and you are really getting on my nerves!" "Very forceful and commanding," the Ixie stated with approval. "Hesitate not to lay into them with a belaying pin if necessary, my sweet." "You knock it off too," Izzy muttered. ***************************************************** The monks stopped chanting and started ululating, as one of them climbed over the rail and held aloft a squirming pink object. "Behold the Blessed One of Iku-Turso!" the monk declared. "Captain, a basin and some swaddling clothes, if you will." "Is that another baby??" Izzy exclaimed. "They're just popping up like mushrooms today!" With an exasperated sigh he left the helm and hurried over to the galley. "COOK!" Izzy snapped. "I need some towels and something to put a placenta in!" 1Image: 0502ohmy "Oooh," Izzy continued, after noticing my unclothed state. "Oh my .. what exactly, um, are you two doing in here?" "It's teachin' the youngling some magicks I am," Estvan chuckled. "And begorrah! he's bungling it most hilariously." "Mind if I watch?" Izzy asked hopefully. "More the merrier, lad. Pull up a seat, for he may be at this a while." 2Image: 0502pookaway Suddenly I found myself standing on the deck outside the galley, with my clothes on. "Sure and that's the way tis done!" Estvan called out approvingly. "With practice you'll be able to do it under less duress." "Drat," Izzy muttered. "Well, anyway, grab some of those dish towels and that big bowl, old-timer. Your other kit has been born." "Hudalaleigh!" Estvan crowed. "Let's go see the little beastie then, shall we?" Once the newborn had been toweled off and properly swaddled, the apparent leader of the monks tucked a jar full of placenta under his arm and ushered his flock down the ladder and into the water. "Our task is complete," the monk stated proudly. "We've helped the Blessed One into the world, and now we must return home, to continue our regular devotional practice while we await Developments. Pardon our inattention to pleasantries, but at this speed every minute takes us farther from our Abbey, and it's already a pretty long swim back. Smell you later, my brothers and sisters!" With a quick salute, the monk dropped from the railing into the water with a heavy splash. 3Image: 0502pieta "Those guys weren't so bad after all," Yolanda murmured as she stood in the prow of the Juniper, cradling her infant son in her arms. "What did oo fink of de nice fishy-men, huh, widdle sweetums?" "Sure and we're not callin the lad Widdle Sweetums," Estvan grumbled as he peered thoughtfully at the baby. "And it's my sincere hope that the monks of Iku-Turso didn't give him some heathenish name..." 4Image: 0508pleasant "At last!" Izzy sighed contentedly. "Those monks are gone, and maybe now that they've finally greeted their messiah or whatever, they won't pester me around this part of the river anymore. ... yeah ... this is nice ... smooth sailing from here to the -" ****************************************************** Suddenly a strident, high-pitched voice shrieked: "EEEEEEA-LAAAA!!!!" 1Image: 0502yeehaw And a compact, speedy-looking ant cart shot off of an embankment overhanging the river right in front of the ship. It seemed to hang there, suspended in time, slowly floating through the air in a descending parabola toward the opposite bank. I didn't even notice Estvan pook away, so riveted was my attention on the flying cart. Would it reach the other shore, or would it land with a mighty splash in the river? 2Image: 0508aghast "Oh for Fuma's sake!" Izzy groaned as he saw the ant-cart go shooting off the bank just ahead. "More weirdness? What is that thing?" "A bad sign," the Ixie explained. "Tis the Boy Dukes' racing cart." Izzy gulped nervously and tightened his grip on the wheel. 3Image: 0508agog Yolanda and I stared agog at the cart as it floated through the air above the river. It seemed to flicker through the sky, hovering impossibly and revolving as it flew slowly overhead. There must have been some pretty powerful magicks involved! The ant team touched the opposite bank with its forelegs, and it looked like the cart was going to land successfully ... But then with a sudden loud CRACK! the shafts broke, and the carriage landed in the river with a mighty splash, leaving the ants dry on the shore. 4Image: 0508boydukes A pair of quaintly-dressed skunks climbed out the windows of the sinking cart and waved cheerfully to us as the Juniper floated past the scene of the wreck. There appeared to be a set of fancy pajamas, or .. something .. lashed to the roof of the cart. I couldn't quite make out what it was. "Don't ignore them," Izzy warned through clenched teeth. "We can't afford to be rude. Wave politely, but don't say anything. I repeat, DO NOT speak to them." ****************************************************** 1Image: 0508dagnabit Back on the other shore, a raccoon in a luxurious robe rushed up to the top of the embankment and shook his fist furiously. "DAGNABBIT!!" he yelled. A scrawny-looking fox wearing suspenders and no shirt ambled up behind the raccoon, and started making a horrendous racket with an instrument that looked (and sounded) like a lute stuffed in a sack with a bunch of broom handles. "You confounded Boy Dukes!" the raccoon shouted. "One o' these days, yo crimes is gonna come back on ya! You hear me, Bodb? You too, Matholwch! ONE O' THESE DAYS!! DAGNABBIT!! Th' Duchess ain't gonna be pleased one bit." The raccoon turned away disgustedly and walked back into the woods, beckoning his accompanist to follow him. The Juniper drifted lazily along. The river widened, the current slowed, the air grew warm and still. Yolanda's kit started crying. 2Image: 0508fussy "Where's Estvan?" Yolanda asked frantically. "Usually when he pooks away somewhere, I can follow him - but for some reason I can't pook! And this baby is making SO MUCH NOISE! What in the world is wrong with it?" "Maybe he needs to be changed," I suggested. "Meaning what exactly?" "Little babies .. uh .. poop and pee on themselves, and when that happens they need to be cleaned up and have fresh clothes put on them." "Merciful Fuma," Yolanda gasped. "He wouldn't! He wouldn't crap himself all wrapped up in his little blanket, would he?" "He might. Take him back to the poop deck and check." Yolanda hurried aft, but returns a few minutes later. "No poops, thank heaven," she sighed. "But he still won't shut up!" "Well then he's probably hungry," I theorized. "Oh. Okay. Can you whip up some beef stew for him?" "Uh .. do you honestly not know what babies eat?" I asked skeptically. When Yolanda gave me a blank look, I leaned close and whispered it to her. "ADLER!" she gasped. "You've got to be kidding. No? You're serious. I thought boys had to be a lot older before they were allowed to do that!" "Take him to the galley to nurse him," I advised. "You won't be disturbed there." (line) LATER, AS TWILIGHT DEEPENED Estmere came up from the cargo hold, lugging a mysteriously clinking box. "I found a case of fizz!" he exclaimed. "My taste buds are a little off today, so I can't tell if it's peach or persimmon, but dude, it tastes good either way. You guys want some?" "And by what right are you distributing my cargo?" Izzy demanded. "Everything down there is contraband seized in the performance of my duties as Booty Inspector, and is technically the property of the crown." "Yeah, and since I'm the King and my bro here is the Prince, I'm exercising my royal prerogative and claiming what's legally mine," Estmere retorted. "We are gonna drink us some fizz, and we're gonna drink it now. You want one?" "Sure," Izzy sighed. Estmere handed the captain a bottle just as Lemmy staggered up to the rail. "What are we drinking?" the possum asked. 3Image: 0508fizz So, there we were, standing at the fore rail of the Juniper, sipping PeachSimmon Fizz (blended in Vulpitania) and watching the Gladsome Antglade swamp drift slowly past. The only sounds were the gentle splashing of the river against the prow of the ship, the soft swigging and fizzing of our sparkling beverages, the distant croaking of frogs and droning of insects, and an occasional yelp from the galley as Yolanda nursed her infant son. "YOW!" she barked. "I think your name should be Little Nipper! Now stop that!" Estmere guzzled down his third bottle of fizz, and let out a royal belch. "Nice one, Your Majesty," Lemmy grinned. Suddenly a soft, lilting voice spoke from somewhere nearby, on the water: "Howdy y'all. Our aunt mama, the Duchess, would surely like to meet you folks." "Are you ... HER?" I asked uncertainly. 4Image: 0516karen "Ain't sure who you mean," the voice replied. "I'm Karen the Boatperson, and I'm here to ferry yall over to Antglade Station to meet the Duchess." ***************************************************** "How many of us is 'yall'?" I asked nervously. "There's quite a few elves on board this boat." "Sister-cousin Her Grace only wants to meet the Royal Skunks," Karen answered. "That squallin' baby and its hollerin' mama can stay behind. And we don't have no need for Captain Kersploosh." I could hear Izzy's sigh of relief over the sound of the frogs and the muffled squalling of Yolanda's kit. "What do you mean, Royal Skunks?" I asked cautiously. "I mean the two of you, the King and his brother." "How do you know I'm the King?" Estmere demanded suspiciously. "You're dressed like The King," Karen replied. "Plus that tall fella back there called you Your Majesty just now." "Welp, she's got us," I shrugged. "I guess we better go with her then." "Says who?" Estmere retorted. "I'm the King! Since when do I answer to a Duke or a Duchess?" "Since you entered the Antglade, Your Majesty," Karen informed. "This is the Duchess of Daisies' domain. Her will is law in this swamp." "The Duchess of ..?" Estmere whispered, looking almost worried for a moment. "She's real?" "Guess we better go," I reiterated. "Where Prince Adler goes, I go," Lemmy insisted. "Fine, but ain't no food or beverages permitted on my ferry boat." "Finish 'em up, gentlemen," Estmere ordered. "And then let's be off." Lemmy and I gulped down the rest of our fizz, and then clambered down into Karen's ferry. She guided the vessel by nudging along on the river bottom with a pole. Our progress was slow but unerring as we glided among dense shadowy hummocks and knobbly trees. Eventually we arrived at a rickety-looking pier. "The Station is just around the bend, up that path," Karen explained. "You can't miss it. It's a double-wide ... and the only place that's lit up this time of night." She turned and poled her barge silently away into the darkness. I shrugged and turned toward the path. We rounded a bend and beheld ANTGLADE STATION 1Image: 0516antglade "Fuma's Teeth!" I declared. "Those are some of the biggest trees I've ever seen! And the magick emanating from this place is tremendous. It feels .. really .. OLD." "I'll say!" Estmere exclaimed, pointing to a squat object next to the entryway. "Check it out, dude. They have an old Persoc-Itoome cooler! That stuff was banned by grandpa Adler. I wonder if there are any old bottles still in there?" Estmere opened the cooler and looked inside. "No such luck," he muttered, disappointed. "The chilling magick is still working, but it's full of nails and meat." "Well, let's go inside then," I sighed, squaring my shoulders and standing up as tall as I could. "Just be careful! You remember the stories about the Duchess." We arrived in a modestly-sized Hall with some chairs and tables haphazardly arranged. The suspenders-wearing fox we had seen earlier was lounging in a corner, making a racket with his bizarre stringed contraption. At one end of the Hall, on a high dais, was an elaborate throne with an overhanging roof. Seated within, concealed by dark shadows, was a figure ... 2Image: 0516duchess "Howdy folks!" the shadow said in a clear, melodious voice. "I sure do appreciate yall comin' on such short notice. I'm the Duchess. My idiot son-cousins done gone and stole my Regalia so I'm afraid I ain't decent for company .. but they oughtta be showin' up any minute now to explain theirselves. While we wait, why not help yourself to some good ol' Gladsome Antglade hospitality! There's schnitzel n waffles, which my cook whips up fresh any time of day or night. I got sponge cake and caked sponge, and you just gotta try our national drink." A cross-eyed squirrel in an apron emerged from a side door and handed each of us a cold pickle jar filled with pale yellow liquid. "Don't eat or drink anything," I whispered to my companions. "That rule only applies to lowfolk," the Duchess insisted. "All our consumables are safe for elves and you won't be compelled to stay nor do nothin peculiar if'n you try some, if that's what you're worried about." "Okay ..." Estmere conceded as he ambled toward the buffet. 3Image: 0516hospitality "Do get some gravy, Your Majesty honey," the Duchess suggested. "Schnitzel n waffles just ain't complete without it." "HOO! This stuff is pretty good!" Lemmy declared after taking a sip of the liquid in the jar. "What is it?" "That there is Usquebaugh," the Duchess answered proudly. "Made right here in the Antglade." "Yeah, but I mean what IS it?" Lemmy asked, taking another sip and licking his lips. "Several grains," I replied, taking a cautious sip and swirling it around in my mouth. "Mostly barley, along with ... I don't know, some sort of marsh grass ... and a touch of lightning." "Pretty impressive tastebuds you got there," the Duchess observed. "I'm sorry, what?" I said irritably. The fox playing the bag-lutes was really starting to get on my nerves. "I can hardly hear you over the noise that guy is making." "All right, Cletus," the Duchess sighed. "I told you before not to play that thing in here. Our company don't like it." "Ain't they got no taste in music?" Cletus retorted. "That wasn't music," Estmere scoffed. "Them thar's fightin' words!" the fox barked. "King or no King, I defies you to do any better!" "Anybody could play better than what you were doing, dude," Estmere declared. "I'm not even a musician but I bet I could whup you." "Well here's another set o' baglutes, big shot," Cletus snapped. "Pick 'em up an' let's see whatcher made of!" 4Image: 0516duel The room was filled with a cacophonous jangling racket as the two of them started playing at once. "BOYS! BOYS! Take that noise into the other room! I can't hardly hear myself think," the Duchess shrieked. "SAKES! Cletus, I'm warnin' you, yer cruisin' for another dunk in the pond if'n you don't settle down right quick." Estmere and Cletus adjourned into another room, still glowering at each other. A few seconds later I heard muffled baglute music coming from next door. ************************************************************ "Salmonella!" the Duchess bellowed. "Salmonella Moonbeam, getcher little fanny in here and play somethin' nice for our guests!" 1Image: 0516blahslady A female possum scurried in, bowed before the Duchess, then sat down and started singing the Blahs in a clear, sweet voice while accompanying herself on a lap dulcimer. Lemmy made a strange noise in his throat and sat down heavily on a nearby stool. I waved my hand in front of his face but he continued to stare, enraptured, at Salmonella Moonbeam as she sang a mournful Swamp Blahs. "Now that we're alone, relatively speaking," the Duchess chuckled quietly in my elfmind. "You may approach the throne." "M - me, Your Grace?" I stammered nervously. "Yes, yes, Adler Fitgawain, it's you I wanted to see. Now come here. I won't bite - most likely." 2Image: 0516prophecy "What I hear, you aim to correct the MISTAKE," the Duchess hissed, leaning forward out of the shadow of her throne. "Is that right?" 3Image: 0523uhh I paused while considering how to answer. I had to be careful! If the stories were true, she could turn me into a schnitzel with a snap of her fingers, and then eat me! "What mistake do you mean, Your Grace?" I asked nervously. "That's the name of a heretical proposition, and I wouldn't want to misunderstand -" "Fuma's Mistake!" the Duchess snapped. "Your doggone fancy-pants Empire is Fuma's Mistake. And I hear you're the one's set about to make things right again." I had absolutely no idea how to answer this. I couldn't help but be distracted by details of the Duchess's appearance. Where did the clothes she was wearing come from, if her nephews (sons?) had stolen her Regalia? Why were her eyes such an eerie, blank whiteness? How did she even know about my divinely appointed Quest? 4Image: 0523charmed "Just 'cause my Regalia is missin don't mean I got nothin at all to wear," the Duchess replied. CRAP! She was reading my thoughts! "This here's just somethin I threw together. It ain't what I would consider decent for company, but at least I ain't naked. Do you like it?" I nodded my head noncommittally. "My eyeballs is blunked out due to the immense power shinin' out of em," the Duchess continued. "Also from drinkin' lots of Usquebaugh. And I knew about your quest because far from bein' blind, I can see more'n most elves can. What else do you wanna know about me, Adler Fitzgawain?" ****************************************************** Meanwhile, back on the boat 1Image: 0523eshasit Estvan pooked into the hold of the Juniper. He was completely soaked with river water, and was clutching a set of very wet and oddly frilly long-johns. "Sure and she won't try anything as long as I've got this," he chuckled nervously to himself. 2Image: 0523whoru "Who are you?" Doris asked from behind a crate. "CUSHLAMOCHREE!" Estvan yelped in surprise. A flock of startled beetles erupted from his tail-fur. "Tisn't nice, dearie, at all at all, to sneak up on an old elf like that!" ******************************************************* "Do you," I stammered, acting on a sudden hunch. "Do you have any connection with a young skunkess named Zandar Skönk?" "Interested in that gal are you?" the Duchess snickered. "What do you want her for? Not to marry your royal brother, I hope." I shook my head. "OOHHH," the Duchess grinned lasciviously. "She's for you. I see. The Sisterhood wants to perpetuate Irenaeus's line through you, 'cause somethin' ain't quite right with ol' Estmere. You got them Vulpy-folks to thank for that. But there's a problem, you see. It's against my interests for either one of you boys to sire an heir. Unless .." She paused thoughtfully. "On the other hand, an alliance might be just the thing. The King ain't no proper elf, but you ... you got potential. Moxie. Not bad lookin' either. So why waste your time on small potatoes? If'n you want to marry a noblewoman, I got nobility out the wazoo. That there'd be a right powerful union, no doubt about it." "What's that commotion?" I blurted, grateful for the sudden distraction of twanging and loud crashes from the next room. "Sounds like the baglute battle's gettin a mite heated," the Duchess remarked. "HEY! YOU FELLERS QUIT WRECKIN' UP THE PLACE, AN' TAKE THAT FOOLISHNESS OUTSIDE!" I heard loud stomping, then a door slammed and all was quiet. I took the opportunity to glance quickly around the room. 1Image: 0523poorlemmy I hadn't even realized that Salmonella Moonbeam had stopped playing her dulcimer. She and Lemmy were sitting stock-still and staring into each other's eyes. It looked like my so-called bodyguard was going to be useless ... as usual. Suddenly there was more twanging and crashing, followed by high-pitched yelling and some grisly cracks & thumps. 2Image: 0523consarned "Hmmm," the Duchess growled suspiciously. "That don't sound quite like the usual baglute duel. Somethin' is amiss." 3Image: 0523varmints A few seconds later, Cletus crashed into the room. He rushed forward with a limp and a swollen eye, and perhaps a few more teeth missing than he'd had before - but I couldn't be certain about that. "Trouble, aunt-cousin ma'am!" the fox yelped. "Some insane gerbil plumb leaped outta the swamp an' whaled the tar outta me! An' look at what the varmint done to my baglutes!" 4Image: 0523wrath "YOU IDIOT!" the Duchess screeched. "THAT WAS A IMPERIAL AGENT! Git after 'em, you numbskull! Wake up Rothko an' tell him to ready the wagon! This here is a SWAMP-WIDE ALERT! Surround their ship! Cut off all getaway routes! So help me, if'n they exscape I'll have your mangy hide for a lute-bag! Where are them damn boys with my Regalia???" ********************************************************* I lunged toward the door, preparatory to making a mad dash ... 1Image: 0530dontgo ... but suddenly the Duchess was right next to me, with one arm around my shoulders, poking me in the chest with a sharp but dainty claw. "Where you goin' sugar?" she purred. "It ain't polite to scram without sayin' a proper farewell, specially when our conversation was just gettin' started. Don't pay no mind to all that brouhaha out there. My folks'll handle it. You'n me's got thangs to discuss. Now, I know what you're thinkin... But take a good look at me. Can you honestly say that I ain't as purty, nor mayhaps even purtier than any of them young thangs back in Albric Tor?" I honestly could not say so. "And if you'n me was to get together, just think how powerful our offspring'd be. The glory of Elfkind would be restored in one fell swoop. Or a whole buncha fell swoops, if you get my meanin," she chuckled lasciviously. I looked around desperately for help from Lemmy ... 2Image: 0530dulcimer ... but the only trace of the possums was Salmonella's dulcimer lying on the bench where she had been sitting. "Wonder where them two run off to?" the Duchess murmured, echoing my thoughts. "Maybe they had the same idea we're havin." "I really, uh," I stammered, trying to think of a Wile that would gracefully extricate me from the Duchess's clutches. "Why are you so twitchy?" she asked irritably. "I'm startin' to think maybe you don't like me." I tried to suppress my mental images from the stories of elves being skinned alive and lowfolk being baked into pies. "I'm just worried about Estmere," I admitted truthfully. "He and Cletus were out there when the, uh, gerbil attacked, and Cletus looked pretty roughted-up, so I want to make sure Estmere is okay." 3Image: 0530looksee With a sudden flourish, the Duchess produced a glowing crystal orb which hovered just above her outstretched hand. "His Majesty looked like he could handle hisself in a fight," the Duchess opined. "But if you're that concerned, let's have us a look-see at the situation." She swept the orb gracefully across in front of her body, and then held it up in front of my face. "Oh go ahead and look," she snapped testily as I made a determined effort to avoid looking into the crystal. "It ain't a soul trap or nothin like that. Fuma's sakes, I don't know what kinda stories yall tell about me back at the Tor, but I declare, most of 'em ain't got much basis in facts." 4Image: 0530itsmeadow I looked into the scrying orb and beheld Meadow Grainmaster - dressed like a Covert Operative instead of a Jester - fighting savagely with a quarter-staff, and administering a significant amount of pain to a ragged assortment of swamp denizens. "That's Meadow!" I exclaimed. "I always THOUGHT she was an Agent! She must have stowed away on board the ship! None of us had any idea that she was with us. There couldn't have been any intention of spying on the Antglade, since it wasn't our intention to come here." "Yall had to pass through here on your way to Caer Adland," the Duchess pointed out. How did she know our destination? She must have been snooping in everybody's Elfmind from the second we entered Antglade Station. "True, but we meant to stay to the river channel, not to come deep into the swamp to your home," I explained. "Ain't spyin' I'm worried about," the Duchess muttered. "Yall already know all my dirty secrets anyway, judgin by the stories you've heard." "Well, we're not here to sabotage," I continued. "Again, no plans to come this far into the Antglade. Meadow is only acting to protect the King. She probably saw his baglute battle with Cletus as a potential threat." "I ain't sure who's threatenin' who," the Duchess sniffed. "But all this uppityness is gonna have to be neutralized." "You know that we are high-ranking and influential elves," I reminded her. "Any harm - nay, any inconvenience which we encounter as a result of you or your people could lead to a Diplomatic Incident. Can you risk more trouble with the Empire?" "What Empire?" the Duchess scoffed. "Seems to me like I've got the Empire right here in my clutches. I get rid of the last of the Irenaeid line, what's the Empire gonna do? Send some bushes to attack my swamp? Not likely. Who'd even have the authority? Your new Grand Marshal don't have the girth nor the gumption of ol' Fat Rolly. He thinks he can win by quotin' the Rule Book at me. HAH! So you see, with the Empire dissolved your quest'll be done and you can stay here with me. Or you can go home to Albric Tor. With me. Or if you don't want me you can go to the Netherhells with your brother. Whichever way, the Mistake will have been fixed and the Gladsome Antglade will rise again." ********************************************************* "The Mistake," I squeaked, trying to keep the Duchess talking so I could think of something to do. "What makes you so sure the Empire is Fuma's Mistake??" "Irenaeus seemed like a good tool to spread the Goddess's word," the Duchess answered thoughtfully. "But as the skunks of Albric Tor gained power, elves everywhere else lost power. We became less free the more they organized us. In the Long Ago we was wild and terrible and we was happy. Lowfolk worshiped us and we ruled the two worlds. But now? There ain't hardly no difference twixt an elf and a lowperson no more." Suddenly the door clattered open, interrupting the Duchess's monologue. 1Image: 0530dukes The two skunk-elves from the flying ant cart stood sheepishly in the entryway. One had his hands in his pockets and the other was nervously wringing his hat in his hands. "BODB!! MATHOLWCH!!" the Duchess bellowed. "You two really done it this time! Fun's fun, but yo' childish pranks have done gone too far! Where is it??" "We don't know, sister cousin ma'am," the one with the hat answered timidly. "What do you mean, you don't know?" the Duchess hissed suspiciously. "What I mean is, the cart sunk in the river. We got out and had us a good laugh, and then we dove back in to fetch it ... and it weren't there no more!" "HOW COULD YOU IDIOTS LOSE IT??" the Duchess screeched. "YALL KNOW HOW IMPORTANT THAT THING IS!?!!" "We had it lashed down secure, aunt mama," the other elf answered sulkily. He pointed at me. "That feller was on the boat, he saw the whole thing." "Who else is on board your ship?" the Duchess demanded, squinting at me with her shining blank eyes. "Aside from Estmere and Lemmy, there's Rivermaster Izzy, and the Silverbrushes, and I guess Meadow but I didn't know she was aboard." "The otter coulda swum down there and stole it easy," the Duke with the hat suggested. "I got that Booty Inspector all figured," the Duchess answered with a shake of her head. "I don't think he'd be dumb enough to - wait, did you say Silverbrush?" "Yeah, Estvan and Yolanda and their baby - though, come to think of it, Estvan pooked away right at the moment -" 2Image: 0530essstvaann "ESSSSTVAAANNNN!!!!" the Duchess screamed into her scrying orb. "YOU FUMA-BLASTED SCALAWAG!!" I could just barely glimpse Estvan's grinning face in the orb. 3Image: 0530regalia On board the Juniper, Estvan held the Duchess's Regalia aloft. "Hudalaleigh, Catherine!" he cackled gleefully. "Is it this you're lookin' for? Come and get it, me dearie! Come and get it!" "Great Fuma," Izzy groaned. "You've doomed us all." 4Image: 0606floatingbaby "Uh, Pooky ..." Yolanda called out nervously as she walked on deck with her arms under the swaddled fox kit. "We have a problem." "Begorrah, woman!" Estvan snapped. "Can't it wait? Sure and it's right in the middle of something I am!" "The baby is floating!" Yolanda insisted. "Sure, and it means he's gassy. Take him back inside and burp him. And don't interrupt me again with such nonsense!" ********************************************************* "Hudalaleigh!" Estvan cackled, looking at the Regalia. "What a glad rag this is! Sure and I'm wonderin' how it would look on me ..." "DON'T YOU DARE!!!" the Duchess shrieked, clearly audible across the water despite the considerable distance between the Juniper and the Station. "Och, well I doubt it would fit at any rate," the old fox snickered. "Much too large." 1Image: 0606taunting "Fuma preserve us! Do I spy a loose thread?" Estvan continued, with a merry grin plastered across his face. "Perhaps I should give it a tug! Wouldn't do to be untidy at all, at all!" "KEEP YOUR GRUBBY PAWS OFF IT!!!" the Duchess screamed, with what might have been a note of panic. "Are you crazy?" Izzy howled in terror. "Why are you provoking her? Do you have any idea what you're doing?" "Shush, Captain," Estvan cooed. "I have a plan. Well, a decent part of one anyway. Cushlamochree! Sure and this ratty old garment would make a fine snack for me carpet beetles." (line) Speaking of beetles: 2Image: 0606eekabug Doris was being held at bay in a corner of the hold by an inquisitive stag beetle which hadn't returned to Estvan's brush when he left. (line) "DON'T FEED MY REGALIA TO BEETLES!!" the Duchess wailed across the swamp. "Well if it's wantin' this thing back you are, Catherine, then come fetch it from me," Estvan called smugly. 3Image: 0606checkout "YOU KNOW DAMN WELL I CAIN'T GO OUT WITHOUT MY REGALIA, YOU CARPETBAGGIN' BASTARD!" the Duchess screamed into her scrying orb. "Sure and it seems we've come to an impasse then," Estvan grinned. "Make me a bargain, me lass. What'll you offer me that I want more than this bonnie set o' pyjamas?" While this exchange was going on, I leaned back, sipped my Usquebaugh and admired the Duchess's figure as she hunched angrily over her scrying orb. As she got progressively more upset, her musk became more intense. I was starting to think that maybe a slow seduction was the best solution to this whole predicament... 4Image: 0606noway WHOAH, whoah - wait just a second! What was I thinking?? I quickly put down the jar of Usquebaugh. I needed a clear head right now. I couldn't get involved with the Duchess of Daisies! She was a monster! She was the single most Unseelie elf anyone in the Empire had ever heard of! Plus, just look at her face; she may have had an awesome body, but her face looked almost like a feral animal! Yuck! I briefly pondered the possibility of Pooking away from here, but having just learned the spell, I was afraid you would only Pook my clothes off again - not a desirable scenario, given present company. Plus, I didn't know my way around the Antglade, so there was a danger of Pooking myself into an unpleasant place, or halfway into a wall or a tree ... besides which, the Duchess was probably powerful enough to stop me, even without her Regalia. ******************************************************* Meanwhile 1Image: 0606meadowkicks Just outside Antglade Station, Meadow continued to give the swamp folks a sound drubbing. She thumped a knife-wielding raccoon in the sternum, and he went down, flinging his knives into the mud. "Wow, Meadow," Estmere gasped, between gales of laughter. "I don't even know what you're doing here, dressed as an Operative instead of a Jester, but OH MAN this is the best routine I've seen you do! So friggin' hilarious! Classic!" 2Image: 0606possums "Sounds like a ruckus outside," Lemmy muttered in another part of the Station. "Is that the King? LAUGHING?? Something's not right. I'm supposed to be looking after Prince Adler." "The Prince ain't in any danger," Salmonella cooed as she snuggled against Lemmy's neck. "The Duchess is sweet on him." "That's what worries me," Lemmy said with a shudder. "None of the rest of yall are safe from the Duchess's wrath," Salmonella murmured. "Specially if he spurns her. It'll be bad. Best you stay here with me." Lemmy twitched his ears at a succession of thuds, grunts, and splashes. "Ain't you hot in that coat?" Salmonella whispered. "I'm married," Lemmy gulped reluctantly. "Well your wife ain't here, is she?" ***************************************************** 1Image: 0606youidjits "See the trouble you done caused," the Duchess snarled at her son/nephews. "Everything's gone wrong and now it looks like we'll be gettin' NOTHIN for our troubles, yet again. What do you idjits have to say for yourselves?" 2Image: 0606inbred "S-s-sorry, cousin mama, ma'am," the one with the hat stammered. "We won't do it again." The other Duke just stood there with drool dripping from his mouth. The Duchess sighed and rummaged in her Elfintory. Then she suddenly turned and faced me. 3Image: 0606puppyeyes "Aw please, Adler honey," she wheedled. "Can't you talk some sense into ol' Estvan? He's bein' mean and entirely unreasonable about this." "GAH!" I exclaimed as I recoiled from the Duchess's gaze. "Are those REAL puppy dog eyes?" "Purty please," the Duchess cooed, aiming the eyes right at me. I would have liked to say that I was totally unaffiliated with Estvan, but elves don't lie. "I'm not sure what you want me to do," I protested. "Estvan's the one with your Regalia. Talk to him, not me. He's acting on his own. I had no part of whatever plan he has cooked up." 4Image: 0606eyesfeh "Damn these eyes!" the Duchess snapped, flinging them away. "Never have worked right! Well, I guess I'm gonna have to resort to whatcha might call 'sterner' measures. You're my bargainin' chip now, honey chile." "Estmere and I are not the only remaining scions of Irenaeus," I nervously pointed out. "You can't topple the Empire with one stroke today! Even if both of us were .. done away with .. there are others in the line of succession to take the throne." "I know," the Duchess replied with a calm smile. "Fat Rollie's next, if he's still alive ... and then there's me." "THAT'S PREPOSTEROUS," I blurted before I could stop myself. "You callin' me a liar?" the Duchess hissed. "No," I desperately retracted. "I just, uh, wasn't expecting that." Elves do not lie, so if the Duchess of Daisies said she was in the line of succession, then she must have been in the line of succession. This was BAD. This was SERIOUSLY BAD! The Duchess of Daisies was plotting to take the throne of Faerie! I needed to get out of here right away. "Where you goin?" the Duchess inquired tartly. "I need you to stay so's I'll have somethin to swap for my Regalia." I briefly considered fighting my way out, but I wasn't quite desperate enough to try something as foolishly suicidal as attacking the Duchess of Daisies. My heart raced in terror. Could this be the end of my quest? Would I end up in a marshy grave next to my brother, out here in this infested swamp? Or, even worse, would I be baked into a pie and served with grits? The only thing I could think of to do right then was to reach into my Elfintory and pull out Bucephalus. I quietly cuddled my old childhood pal while the Duchess was distracted, peering into her scrying orb. Something about the toy ant calmed me, and I started thinking more clearly about my predicament... ********************************************************* THE DUCHESS?? HOW CAN THIS BE? An info break, courtesy of Wise Professor Skunk. 1Image: 0613succession The current line of succession runs thus. Prince Adler wasn't even on the list before the King legitimized him, but after that date he became second in line for the throne. After him is Prince Roland, the King's great-uncle. Due to a number of unfortunate deaths during the reign of King Gawain, the next most eligible claimant to the throne is Catherine O'Daisies, the daughter of King Athanasius' youngest sister. After the Duchess would be her eldest son/nephew Bodb, followed by his brother/cousin Matholwch. Only skunks may rule from the throne of Albric Tor. Adler's Ixie daughters (if his daughters they truly be) are not eligible. 2Image: 0303keepitclean Permit me to elucidate further: Duchess Catherine O'Daisies is the only living grandchild of Irenaeus the Conqueror. Her mother - a sister of king Athanasius, whose name, as far as history records, was Judy - was married to a well-liked cousin of the High King (we assume he was well-liked because he could just as easily have been assassinated rather than exiled to a comfortable sinecure), and hustled off to rule the recently conquered Duchy of Gladsome Antglade. There in that mountainous, remote, tea-growing country they were left pretty much to their own devices. In retrospect it seems clear that there was a strong Unseelie tendency in that part of the family. About midway during the reign of Athanasius' son Yngvar "the Cunning" (Yngvar ruled for a remarkably long time. It is said that he played dice with Death on several occasions, and furthermore that he cheated, and in this way secured great longevity ... however I digress.) Midway during Yngvar's reign, public outrage at the stories coming out of the Antglade led the Emperor and his High Council to issue decrees outlawing some of the most heinous practices. The offended Antgladers continued their Unseelie ways, in defiance of the Imperial will. This was followed by the regrettable Tea Embargo, which was unpopular on both sides of the debate, and led the Antglade to secede from the Empire and declare itself an Independent Realm. Yngvar disagreed, and a bloody war was fought, the result of which was that the Gladsome Antglade was transformed from lofty mountains into a dismal swamp, and travel in and out of the province was severely restricted. These restrictions were eased by later Emperors, but the Antglade has never recovered, neither culturally nor economically. It is part of the Duchess of Daisies' legend that over the centuries she has bred with every male skunk-elf within her domain ... multiple times. The ties of kinship between her and her nephews/sons/brothers-in-law is so complex it would take an entire series of lengthy monographs to fully explore it. For now, we only need know that Bodb and Matholwch are descendants of the Duchess, as well as of each other and of themselves, and thus their blood is undoubtedly Royal - but their aunt/cousin/mother precedes them in order of succession. How did she rise so high on the list? Royal skunks, over the centuries, have become less and less fecund, so there are fewer and fewer heirs. Various older nobles on the list have recently been taken to Fuma's Embrace. Prince Guillaume, Viceroy of the Southlands and former Grand Marshal of Faerie, had been an emergency reserve candidate for millennia (he was a pikeman at one of Irenaeus' last battles, and was the distant maternal uncle of King Adler I) but he died of extreme old age during Adler the Prudent's reign. Near the end of Adler I's reign there was a brief crisis during which the whereabouts of then-Prince Gawain was unknown. Earl Larsen was summoned to the capital, being next in succession after the Prince at that time ... but later, during the opening years of Estmere's reign the Earl met with an unfortunate hunting accident involving a carelessly placed punji pit on his estate. His children are not in line for the Throne, as the Earl had rather recklessly married a commoner. The Skönks of Skeorle Tor were another offshoot of the Irenaeid line originating with a Royal Sibling sent off to a province on the far Eastern frontier during the reign of Roland the Dutiful. The Skönk patriarch, Zebulon, was reportedly knifed by a local brigand with the unfortunate name of "He-Ma'am" near the end of the reign of King Gawain. A few years later, during Estmere's reign, the rest of the family was wiped out in a freak boating accident - including two sisters picnicking on shore and one cousin who had stayed home with a case of the Vapours. Only one daughter, Zandar, remains unaccounted for; she was a Changeling in the lowfolk world when her family perished, and she did not return to Faerie at the appointed time. ******************************************************** On the deck of the Juniper: 1Image: 0613stopit Izzy grabbed the front of Estvan's vest and shook him. "ARE YOU INSANE?" the otter yelled, panicking and furious. "Don't screw around with the Fuma-Flippin DUCHESS OF DAISIES! If it was just you I wouldn't care, but you are endangering my whole ship with your foolishness! Do you have any idea who she is??" "Begorrah, I've every idea who she is," Estvan muttered indignantly. "But is it any idea you're havin' who I am? The situation is well in hand, so unhand me and let me handle it. Sure and you've nothin' to worry about at all, at all." 2Image: 0613bigbeetle "ESSSTVAAAN!" the Duchess's voice screeched out across the water. "Get that monster away from my Regalia! If even one thread is missin' there won't even be enough left of these Imperial skunks to eulogize!" "Leave it, Bessie," Estvan commanded. "You're not to be eatin' that. Yet." (line) Meanwhile, in the swamp somewhere near Antglade Station: "Not enough left to eulogize?" Estmere repeated. "Dude, that sounds ominous." "It may be an empty threat, Your Majesty," Meadow reassured him. "Or it may not. Stay close. No telling when the next batch of hooligans will pop up." "Hey, what's that?" Estmere asked, pointing at something glinting in a hollow between some tree roots. He stooped to pick it up. 3Image: 0613soda "SCORE!" Estmere yelled. "It's an unopened bottle of Persoc-Itoome! Sweet!!" (line) Back aboard the Juniper: "POOKY!" Yolanda yelled from the galley. "The baby is floating around on the ceiling and I can't reach him!" The infant corroborated this statement with a sirenlike wail. "Throw a flour sack over him and pull him down!" Estvan snapped. "Fuma's sakes, vixen! Now's not the time to be botherin' me with such stuff!" A few seconds later there was a rattling sound followed by a tinkling chime. "Uh, Pooky ...?" Yolanda called. "What did I just say??" Estvan retorted. 4Image: 0613grrr "Havin' domestic troubles, Estvan?" the Duchess sneered. "I can make all that go away - PERMANENT LIKE!" "Sure and you'd have to come out here to do that," Estvan yawned. "So stow the blarney and make me a serious offer. I'm willin' to swap this eyesore -" he waved the Regalia "- for the return of all the elves who were aboard our boat, and safe passage out o' the Antglade." ******************************************************** Meanwhile In a cozy secret compartment somewhere inside Antglade Station: Image: 0613possumplay "Good idear, sweetie, playin' possum," Salmonella giggled. "Now you can tell the wife, if it ever comes up, that you wasn't a active participant..." (line) In the hold of the Juniper: 2Image: 0613HALP "GAH!!" Doris screamed, as the advancing stag beetle crowded her ever tighter into the corner. "Get it away!! Somebody HELP MEEEE!!!" ******************************************************** "It ain't funny!" the Duchess snarled at the two Dukes, who were chuckling for some inappropriate and unfathomable reason. "I oughtta skin you two alive fer this here screw-up. It's 'cause of you that consarned fox is a-gonna cheat us out of our birthright AGAIN!" 1Image: 0613whyant The Duchess turned to me, as if to ask me something, and suddenly recoiled in alarm. "What in the Netherhells is THAT for?" she asked, eying Bucephalus suspiciously. Suddenly I felt calm. My head was clear. "I don't understand the logic behind your expressed desire to topple the Empire and take over the throne," I stated. "You can't have it both ways." "I only wanna topple the Empire if I ain't rulin' it," the Duchess scowled. "But if I gets to be Queen or Empress then I'll be able to change thangs to suit me. Then I reckon the Empire won't have to fall. Unless I really do want the Antglade to rise again. That depends..." 2Image: 0613persuasion "Let me tell you something that may be of interest to you," I insisted. "I had a vision of Fuma at the Birthplace Shrine of Irenaeus. She placed a geas upon me. My task is to correct the Mistake, whatever that is." "I know, and I'm tellin' you, the Mistake is the Empire." "Well, if that's the case then our objective is the same. You need to release me and my companions so we can go on with our mission. The sooner I finish my work, the sooner both of us will get what we want." "You're goin' South to find that half-blood a wife!" the Duchess snapped. "How is that underminin' the current administration? Huh?" "Estmere loves ungulates," I pointed out. "The plan is to marry him to King Adland's daughter. This union will produce no heirs." The Duchess stared at me. Her expression was a mix of skepticism .. and .. something else .. (line) 3Image: 0613spy (line) Suddenly Estmere crashed through the door and galloped furiously across the room, with Meadow scampering close behind. 4Image: 0613gangway "Your Majesty! Wait!" the mouse protested. "NO TIME!" Estmere yelled. "STEP ASIDE, LADY! GANGWAY, BRO!" he bellowed, pushing the Duchess and me aside. "THERE'S A FLOOZY IN DISTRESS AND NOTHING'S GONNA KEEP ME FROM HER!" ******************************************************** Aboard the Juniper: 1Image: 0619tinkle "Hey!" Estvan barked as a mysterious liquid dribbled down from above, onto the Regalia. "HEY!" the Duchess squealed. "YOU DONE THAT ON PURPOSE!" "Begorrah, I did no such thing," Estvan protested. "Confound it, vixen!" he snapped at Yolanda. "Can't you keep that child under control for ten minutes? Sure and you're messin' up our chances for gettin' out o' here." 2Image: 0619aloft "Pooky! This kid is really difficult! I need some help with him!" Yolanda wailed, slightly louder than the shrieks of the irritable kit. "Sure and his swaddlings are wet. Change them." "HOW?? I'm hanging on for dear life here!" Suddenly a madly gibbering Doris crashed through the hatch and stumbled across the deck. "Who in the Netherhells are you?" Izzy started to ask, as Bessie the beetle scurried over to greet the newcomer. 3Image: 0619biggerbug "YAAAAAAAAHHHH!!" Doris screamed. "Excitable lass isn't she?" Estvan remarked. "Where do you even keep a beetle that size?" Izzy asked. "Quite simple it is, once you've understood the basic principles," Estvan started to explain. 4Image: 0619vault Suddenly with a grunt and a bound, Estmere vaulted over the ship's rail and rushed grimly toward the sobbing, hysterical doe. ********************************************************* 1Image: 0619rescue "Everything's all right now, baby, your King is here," Estmere murmured in a husky voice as he grasped Doris's shoulders and pulled her close to him. "I don't know how you wound up here, but as long as you're with me, I won't let anything harm you." "Oh, Your Majesty ..." Doris sighed dreamily. "Sure and I doubt you'll want to be around for this next part," Estvan whispered to Izzy. "Guess I'll go help me wife for a minute or two." (line) If I had any question where my brother was headed in such a hurry, those questions were answered by the sounds coming out of the Duchess's scrying orb. 2Image: 0619likeisaid "Great Fuma Almighty!" the Duchess exclaimed. "That's ... why ... that ain't decent!" "See what I mean about him and ungulates?" I stated smugly. "I sure do," the Duchess answered in a slightly awestruck tone. "I ain't been loved like that in a long time." I pondered grimly some of the stories of Antglade atrocities as I watched the two Dukes scurry mindlessly around the room. "ROTHKO!" the Duchess yelled. "Getcher stripedy tail in here, you ornery cuss!" There was a crashing clatter somewhere in another room, and the black-robed reeve came rushing in. 3Image: 0619letemgo "Escort these here elves back to their boat," the Duchess ordered. "Swap 'em for my Regalia and bring it back quick as you can. Ooyay ownay utwhay ootay ooday." "What?" the reeve asked. "Protocol Seven," the Duchess hissed. "OHHH, gotcha," the raccoon replied with an exaggerated wink. "I'll never be man enough to satisfy her," Meadow mumbled dejectedly. "What's wrong with her?" I asked of nobody in particular. "Oh just a little bit of a curse," the Duchess replied carelessly. "I meant it for your brother the King but it musta hit her instead. Should wear off in a day or two. She'll be fine." (line) In the stern of the Juniper: Captain Kersploosh leaned against the tiller, stalwartly ignoring the sounds of venery coming from the foredeck. Bessie the beetle approached, clicking sympathetically. 4Image: 0619poorizzy "What am I even doing here?" Izzy sighed to the friendly beetle. "I could have stayed in Athstead. I would have been Top Frolicker by now. I could've been a tour guide and had a nice, quiet life. Damn those royal skunks for being so pretty..." ****************************************************** "Meadow is into femmes?" I asked skeptically. "It was a Male Inadequacy curse intended for your brother," the Duchess reiterated. "Surprised it had any effect on her at all, honestly." "What's Protocol 7?" I asked. 1Image: 0626shoo "That's fer me to know and you not to find out," the Duchess snapped. "You young'uns are too fulla questions. Get on outta here now. Shoo! Rothko, take 'em down to the dock an' get Karen to ferry 'em back to their boat. Make the swap as stipulated by the Protocol." I was tempted to ask for some boon or parting gift, but the mood just wasn't right. I didn't need anything, anyway, and whatever the Duchess of Daisies would give me would probably be an unpleasant surprise. (line) Aboard the Juniper: 2Image: 0626takebaby The baby Silverbrush's squalling had diminished to a mild grumbling as Estvan swaddled him in a fresh blanket and handed him to Yolanda. "Sure and that's all there is to it," Estvan explained. "And I've rigged a tether so as long as you hold onto this, he won't float away." "How often am I gonna have to do that?" Yolanda asked, dreading the answer. "As often as he soils himself," Estvan chuckled. "And o'course don't forget the dirty cloth will be needin' to be cleaned." (line) 3Image: 0626moxie Estmere Gawainsson drank his bottle of PERSOC-ITOOME as soon as he found it in the swamp. Where else do you think he got the vim, the vigor, the PERSOCKITY VITALITY that propelled him so quickly to the rescue of a fair floozy in distress? "Duuuude, this stuff is awesome," Estmere murmured as he waved the empty bottle around. "I gotta find me some more of this, man." 4Image: 0626ahoy "Hey up thar!" the Reeve hollered from Karen's barge. "Listen up, you low-down gray bellied damn Imperial scalawag! I gots yer Prince and yer not-so-secret Operative, an I'm here to make a deal fer Her Grace the Duchess's Regalia which you done took hostage and treated in a most disrespectful and ungentlemanly Imperial-type manner!" "Sure and the Regaila's intact," Estvan answered over the rail. "What do your prisoners have to say for themselves?" "I'm fine," I called. "I'm alive, if you can call this living," Meadow groaned. "Throw me the Regalia an' I'll throw you the hostages," the Reeve yelled. "If'n I can," he added under his breath. "Sure and are you sure that's how the Protocol works?" Estvan asked. "Whadda you know about that?" the Reeve demanded. "What is it you're knowin' about it?" "NOTHIN! I mean ... I ain't tellin you nothin! Do we got a deal or don't we?" "I want the Prince and the mouse aboard this ship first, and I'll give you the Regalia just before we cross the boundary of the Antglade," Estvan declared. "That ain't Protocol Seven!" the Reeve protested. "Is it?" "ROTHKO YOU IDIOT," the Duchess's voice wafted across the water. "Seven," Estvan announced. "Sure, and would that be the one where you chuck the hostages into the river and have your ferry-bird fly the Regalia back to the Station at top speed so Katherine can come out in all her glory to face us while we're floundering, still in her territory, to put a diabolical whammy on all of us? That wouldn't be Protocol Seven would it?" "Um ..." Reeve Rothko cogitated. "Could be. I ain't too sure now." "Well, look at it this way, me boyo. This ship is driftin' along with the current, and we'll soon be out o' the Antglade. The only way I'm lettin the Regalia out o' my possession is if those elves you're holdin' hostage are aboard this ship with me. If you'd like to dawdle you're more than welcome to, but we both know Antglade folk can't cross that border. Tis a bit of a mystery what would happen if the Duchess's Regalia were to leave the Antglade. Sure and I'm rather curious to find out." "DAMN IT ROTHKO," the Duchess called. "LET THE PRISONERS BOARD THEIR SHIP AN' QUIT WASTIN' TIME!" Estvan and Izzy lowered a rope ladder. Meadow and I quickly climbed aboard. "Okay, now gimme the Regalia," Rothko demanded. "I'll hand it over just before we leave," Estvan explained. "Sure and I don't want Catherine to have this pretty outfit while we're still in her domain." "ONE OF THESE DAYS, ESTVAN, YOU'LL SLIP UP," the Duchess hissed across the swamp. "Doesn't look like the day is today, me dearie," Estvan quipped. "At all, at all." *********************************************************** 1Image: 0626heymeadow "Glad to see you're okay, Meadow," Doris grinned cheerily, clutching a piece of sailcloth around herself. "I guess our cover is blown now, huh? If I had known it would be like this, I would have come out on deck sooner!" "Please," Meadow wailed, turning away from the loosely-draped doe. "Don't look at me. I can't even get it up, and it's ... it's TINY!" "HEY!" Rothko yelled from the barge. "What's a-goin' on up thar? We is gettin mighty close to the border! Gimme the Regalia like you said! Quick before we run out of room!" Estvan looked at Izzy, who nodded in confirmation that the Juniper was indeed about to cross the boundary of the Gladsome Antglade. "All right, CATCH," Estvan yelled as he hurled the Regalia over the rail toward the Antglade barge. 2Image: 0626catch "Hey! Whoah! That's a dirty trick! Why you dagnabbed -" the Reeve spluttered while he waved his arms to catch the fluttering Regalia. He managed to snag it just before falling into the river with a reluctant splash. "And don't you never come back!" he yelled at the Juniper as Karen hauled him back aboard her barge. 3Image: 0704byebye "Dagnab! Rassafrass! Grlk!" the Reeve spluttered as the Juniper drifted away. He attempted to shake both fists simultaneously, and fell into the river again. "ROTHKO!" the Duchess hollered through the swamp. "QUIT SCREWIN' AROUND AND BRING ME MY REGALIA!" Estvan chuckled merrily and waved goodbye to the fuming raccoon. (line) Inside Antglade Station: 4Image: 0626melonhead "Lady's mercy, that was a close call," the Duchess sighed. "Much as it pissed me off, I gotta admit they handled that whole thing remarkably well. I sure do hope that young'un wasn't flim-flammin' me about his intentions. Once I get my Regalia back I might see if there's a way I can sorta like help him do what he said he was doin'." "DAMN IT BOYS!" she yelled at the Dukes, as Matholwch started laughing uproariously and Bodb started bellowing incoherently. "HOW MANY TIMES DO I GOTTA TELL YOU ..?" *********************************************************** Meanwhile In a storage room inside Antglade Station: Image: 0626possums "Seems like it has gotten awfully quiet all of a sudden," Lemmy said, opening one eye. "I guarantee It'll get noisy again real soon, sugar," Salmonella sighed. "Now that you've quit playin' possum, that is. Your wife sure is one lucky gal." ********************************************************* 1Image: 0626hudalaleigh "HUDALALEIGH!" Estvan crowed. "What a satifyin' caper that was! Pulled it off with flyin' colors, we did! By a combination of improbable luck an' skilful strategizin, sure and we hoodwinked the Duchess of Daisies her own self! It feels blessed good to have passed unscathed through her dominions yet again! Hoo hoo hoo, I wish I could've seen the look on her face! Och, we carried it off perfectly! Not a detail out o' place as far as I can see! Sure and it was a fine job on everyone's part and we can all be proud of our elfly feats this day." "That was a crazy, risky stunt you pulled," Izzy growled. "You imperiled the lives of everyone aboard this vessel." "Nonsense," Estvan protested smugly. "There was no chance of retaliation from the Duchess as long as I had her Regalia. Sure, and there's only minimal risk as long as you use your noodle. Which reminds me of the last time I had dealings with Her Grace Catherine..." 2Image: 0704whereslemmy "Hold on a second," Izzy interrupted. "Where's Lemmy?" "Lemmy who?" Estvan replied suspiciously. "Lemmy, the possum agent who came aboard with Prince Adler. He left on the barge with the two Royal skunks, and I didn't see him return from Antglade Station." "MERCIFUL FUMA!" I gasped. "He must still be there! I didn't see him once the fracas started, what with the baglute music and Meadow beating people up, and the Duchess trying to seduce me. Poor Lemmy! He's not magickal, and he's sort of inept ... we've got to go back and get him!" "Oh no no no," Izzy and Estvan sid simultaneously. "I daren't go back right now," Estvan continued. "Not after this, now that Catherine has her Regalia and her dander is up. Sure and it'll be too dangerous. Perhaps on our return trip, after she's had some time to cool off and those two idiot son-cousins of hers have another chance to steal it." 3Image: 0704ixiesays "Fret not about yon possum," an Ixie interrupted, landing on Estvan's nose. "Verily he's in a better place now." "Cushlamochree! She's killed him," Estvan exclaimed. "Not so. The Agent hath found sanctuary in the embrace of an amorous possum dame." "That must be .. what was her name .. Salmonella," I conjectured. "They were making eyes at each other just before everything went nuts." "Wait a second," Estvan muttered suspiciously. "How is it you're able to leave the Antglade, wee bugling?" "My sisters and I may live in the Antglade, but we are not from there," the Ixie explained. "We are not subjects of the Duchess. Nor are we technically elves. If thou'rt curious, Master Silverbrush, thou mayest study me. I know thou art quite an authority on beetles, and we share certain similarities with those creatures which I'm sure thou wilt find fascinating..." "Sure and I think I hear me offspring squallin' for me," Estvan blurted abruptly, brushing the Ixie from his snout. He started to sing a hasty lullaby as he scurried across the deck toward the galley. "Hush little baby, and don't throw a fit Or I'll have to swap you for a lowfolk kit. And if that lowfolk kit is rude He'll probably be much better stewed. And if that lowfolk stew tastes bad, We'll throw it out and we won't feel sad..." I was a little startled at the Unseelieness of the song, but Estvan vanished into the galley before I could hear the rest. "Welp, I think Doris and I will be heading down to the hold for a while," Estmere announced with a sort of noisy fake-casualness. "Please do," Izzy scowled. 4Image: 0704shoo As the voyage continued, I didn't hear the sounds of venery as much as I thought I might, but at one point I did hear Estmere yell "SHOO!" after which Bessie the beetle came buzzing hurriedly out of the hatch from the hold. ******************************************************** Not much happened as we continued down the river. At one point we had to negotiate a series of locks in a canal which bypassed a long stretch of rapids and a huge waterfall on the Athafon, but even I had to admit it was only interesting for the first hour. While on the canal, Captain Izzy exploited a lull in Doris & Estmere's activities to take stock of the ship's provisions, and realized that there was scarcely enough to get us to Caer Adland. Estvan said this was no cause for worry as long as he was aboard, because his Elfly powers included the ability to apport a sumptuous feast any time one was needed. The food he conjured up did taste pretty good, but the whole mood was spoiled when the roast chicken exploded. After that, everyone was looking forward with some trepidatio to a lean and hungry fortnight, but then the Juniper encountered a crew of pirates. Izzy performed his required Booty Inspecting duties on the pirate's cargo, and was able to confiscate enough provender to see us comfortably the rest of the way down the river. There was another minor crisis when Izzy demanded the return of the topsail, and Doris protested that she didn't have anything else to wear. Estmere chuckled that this wouldn't be a problem until we actually got into port at Caer Adland, and the two of them disappeared into the hold again. Estvan offered to apport one of his wife's old dresses for the doe to wear, much to Yolanda's chagrin. 1Image: 0704consolation Meadow moped under the influence of the Duchess's curse for several days, lamenting to anyone who would listen that Estmere was everything she would never be. Hugging Bessie seemed to comfort her, as did Izzy's solicitous reminders that these things occasionally happen to everyone, and all it takes is being with the right person and one will find one's vigor and virility miraculously restored. All in all, it was a restful voyage. We drifted with the current, occasionally with sail-powered assistance, and there was little to do but catch up on my sleep. The day after exiting the canal, Estmere seemed to become obsessed with Persoc-Itoome Fizz. He ransacked his Elfintory, muttering to himself about how he could really go for another bottle, really NEEDED one ... but all he could find was his crown, and back issues of the monthly codex Hoof Fancy. I never knew that publication had been around for such a long time. I also noticed, with some perplexity, that Estmere had kept the set of baglutes from his duel with Cletus the fox. While everyone else was resting, Yolanda seemed to get more worn-out and haggard. At one point she tied the baby's tether to the starboard rail, but Izzy complained that it was causing the ship to list steeply to port, so Estvan tied the baby to the spare anchor and told Yolanda to go lie down. 2Image: 0704retinue And so, fourteen days later, Estvan and Doris finally got dressed and came out on deck. His Majesty's fur was brushed, and he was wearing his crown. I put on my King's Hand regalia (reluctantly, at my brother's request.) Meadow seemed to have mostly returned to normal, and she joined the King's retinue at the ship's rail as the Caer Adland dockhands tied up the Juniper to the pier. 3Image: 0704kingadland A frazzled-looking antelope rushed onto the dock, wringing his hooves. It took me a moment to notice his robes and crown, which meant that this must have been King Adland himself! "Welcome to Kir al-Adland," he called out fretfully. "We have been expecting you, but we had hoped it would be sooner. You've come at an upsetting time, most upsetting!" *********************************************************** "Am I correct in assuming that you are King Adland himself?" I asked cautiously. It never hurts to be sure. 1Image: 0710honk "Indeed I am he!" Adland exclaimed, inexplicably cheerful all of a sudden. "What was that?" I interrupted. "Something honked just now." "Twas a goose," Adland explained. "These docks are infested with them. But to return to introductions: I am King Adland Tulani of Kir al-Adland, the tenth of my name since the days when cute little Irenaeus was a guest here. My, my, sir, you are the very image of him. Related perchance? Only why do you have a huge glove on your head?" "I am Prince Adler, a descendant of Irenaeus," I answered. "And the hat is a mark of my office as Right Hand of the King. But, Your Highness, what is it you were saying about a calamity of some sort?" 2Image: 0710howawful "Has your Royal Hairdresser died?" Doris piped up. "How terrible!" 3Image: 0710hair "Troubles seldom come singly. Yes, Desi Ray passed away untimely a few days ago," Adland sighed. "How did you know? Is my coiffure somehow amiss? Ah well, no matter. While perhaps a peril to my scalp, the loss of Desi is hardly a palpable threat to the realm." 4Image: 0710notzombies "Great Fuma!" Estmere exclaimed in alarm. "Tell me it's not ... it couldn't be ... a local festival gone horribly awry, elves displaying their bravado by baiting wild orthodonts in the street, only to be overrun by hideous undead cattle bringing plague and all manner of infliction wherever their accursed claws alight?" *********************************************************** 1Image: 0710saywhut "Great Auk, I hope not, Your Majesty," Adland remarked hesitantly. "The awfulness of that scenario makes our actual calamity seem mild by comparison! Where in the Shining Land did you come up with such a story?" "Sorry, I can't think clearly right now," Estmere stammered. "The air is redolent with the scent of beautiful ungulate femmes..." At the mention of hoofed damsels, Meadow emitted a muffled groan of despair. "Ah yes," Adland affirmed. "The reason for your visit, and, indeed the calamity of which I spoke! My fairest daughter, Edessa, has been taken!" "Begorrah! Have ye tried raisin' the taxes at all?" Estvan inquired suddenly. "I admit, it had not occurred to me," Adland remarked thoughtfully. "Did you say 'Great Auk' just now?" I asked, latching onto the least consequential detail of King Adland's conversation. "Indeed I did," the monarch replied. "I am a follower of the Way of the Great Auk. It is the majority religion here by a slight margin, but fret not. We honor Fuma, and there is an opulent Mephitist cathedral here, should you wish to attend services during your stay. My city is also host to significant congregations of Gnostermongers and Cretins, if your religious tastes run that way." "Did you also say that Princess Edessa was TAKEN?" I inquired. "Alas," Adland sighed. "Tis so, I fear. That heathenish sorceror, King Bremor of Spain, has whisked her away to his domain." "Spain? Where's that?" "I understand it is a realm of the lowfolk world." I was so shocked by this that I was momentarily speechless. "Ah well," I finally managed to squeak. "What of your other daughters then? It's not absolutely necessary that we get the fairest..." 2Image: 0718correction "Ignore my bro, Your Majesty," Estmere interrupted. "Though he may be my Right Hand, occasionally he does not speak entirely for me. If your fairest daughter is in peril then, dude, it is my noble duty to rescue her!" "That's good," Adland affirmed. "Because I don't have any other daughters." "Not even one in the oven, so to speak?" I asked, incredulously. "None cooking at all, Your Handship," the King replied. "Then why did you refer to her as your fairest daughter??" "Because she is. But enough of that for now," Adland continued. "Your offer to rescue Edessa pleases me. Come! You must be tired and filthy and barbaric after your long journey. Come to the palace and bathe; cleanse yourselves to some semblance of civilized elves, and let me treat you to a sumptuous feast the likes of which you have never seen." "Hudalaleigh!" Estvan cackled. "Sure and there's nothing like Southlands hospitality!" "This is a Royal invitation only," Adland pointed out. "The rest of you will have to shift for yourselves. Though I suppose I can have some of my guards escort the floozy to my seraglio." 3Image: 0718disallowed "Huh?" Doris quipped. "Surely not even a barbarous Northern skunk would be so gauche as to bring one of his own floozies with him when he comes courting my daughter," Adland reasoned. "Therefore I must assume that she is meant as a gift for me." "Begorrah, what's this at all?" Estvan demanded, indignantly. "Me wife is in sore need o' help with this floatin' baby, and certain it is I am in sore need of a sumptuous feast! What has become of Caer Adland hospitality? Sure and I knew the third Adland, and it's generous he was ..." "Indeed," Adland sniffed. "Our legends relate how he was bilked out of a fortune by a wily fox named Estvan Silverbrush." Estvan blinked at this and then shrugged. "Tis true enough. But he lost fair and square!" "My guards will escort you and your so-called family to the nursery," Adland replied sternly. "Don't touch anything on the way there, and do NOT shed beetles on the carpets. Now then, Your Majesty, Your Highness, if you would follow me?" 4Image: 0718palace Adland personally conducted us through winding alleys, up a hill, and into his sprawling, airy palace. There were sunny courtyards and shady vaulted porches with gentle breezes wafting through them. I gawked at the exotic Southern architecture, and was completely oblivious to anyone who might have been sneaking along behind me, whispering and chuckling to himself... King Adland finally led us to a large covered porch with a long pool in the center of it. Rose petals floated lazily on the surface of the water. "Here you may bathe until you start to smell nice," Adland suggested. "The servants will then bedeck you in diaphonous robes and guide you to the feasting hall where we may disport ourselves and discuss the intricacies of your rescue plan for my daughter." *********************************************************** 1Image: 0718bath Adland left us at the pool, where I reluctantly disrobed and climbed in. The water actually felt really good. It was just the right temperature, but I couldn't relax with my brother right there at the opposite end. Though it seemed my presence wasn't bothering him at all... 2Image: 0718ohyeah A slim gazelle femme approached Estmere and asked if he would like her to assist him in getting clean. "Oh dude, would I EVER!" Estmere enthusiastically responded. I looked around the bath chamber while trying to ignore the gentle splashing and giggling at the other end of the pool. Carved at the base of a pillar I spied an inscription in Old Elvish which I could just barely decipher: "WAFTVAPR ET OBNOXIA IV-EVER" For some reason (maybe the bath attendant reminded mr of her) I started thinking of Utica. It didn't seem that Estmere was thinking of her, considering how incautious he was being. I wondered where Utica was now. Could she be here somewhere in Caer Adland? This had been her home, originally, after all ... but the message she left for me had indicated that she and my mother had fled far away, where they couldn't be found. 3Image: 0718ohno My thoughts were interrupted by a slim gazelle boy who asked solicitously if I needed any help cleaning my hard-to-reach places. I had to think about this for a moment. What were the possible diplomatic ramifications? Blast it, Estmere was the one who had studied Statecraft, but there was no way I was going to interrupt his "bathing" to ask his advice right now! 4Image: 0725rubadub "Fine," I sighed reluctantly. "You can scrub my back." The bath attendant sat on the edge of the pool and started gently scrubbing my shoulders with a sponge. If only Izzy were here; this seemed like the kind of thing he would be able to handle - and then I'd be able to discreetly slip away while he was handling it. But Izzy seemed to have disappeared almost as soon as we landed. Come to think of it, I didn't see Meadow either, after King Adland showed up at the docks. Maybe they went somewhere together? But what possible interests could they have in common? I felt incredibly awkward, sitting here while this other elf scrubbed me. It was a creepy sensation; I felt almost as if I was being watched - but a glimpse across the pool showed that Estmere and his attendant weren't paying the slightest bit of attention to me. "You have really nice fur," the gazelle boy observed. "I'm totally jealous. Mine is always so rough. I can't do a thing with it... Say, you're really tense. My sister and I are trained in relaxation techniques. If you'd like, I would be more than happy to -" The pleasant warmth of the water .. the scent of roses and whatever else was floating in the pool .. the gentle scrubbing on my back .. I was starting to feel really relaxed .. I briefly glimpsed Estmere and his attendant strangely entwined as I closed my eyes .. my attendant eased into the water next to me, and the sponge started to move a little lower .. ********************************************************** "OKAY THEN," I blurted, suddenly jumping out of the pool. I can recognize a Wile when I see one! The nerve of these people, trying such amateurish tricks on me! "I am ready to dry off, and no, I don't need help with that." "As you wish," my attendant shrugged. He pointed toward a louvered door. "Enter that chamber and pull the cord. Air will blow through and dry your fur." (line) A little while later, Estmere and I were dry and dressed for dinner. 1Image: 0725robes "Dude, these robes are freakin' sweet!" my brother enthused. "Totally awesome for lounging around in the summertime. I gotta find out who makes these, and get me some to take home." "I sorta wish there was some underwear to go with it," I complained. "Seriously Bro, lighten up," Estmere chided. "Underwear would like totally ruin the breezy comfort of this outfit." "I think mine is too big," I continued. "And that drying chamber fluffed my fur so much it's not laying flat under here, and I'm all itchy." "Yeah dude, like underwear would really make THAT better," Estmere remarked sarcastically. "You shoulda let your attendant rub some conditioner on you." I decided to drop the subject. Some other servants arrived at that moment to lead us to the banquet hall. We were conducted to a room similar to the one we had left, except instead of a pool in the center, there was a low table with pillows strewn all around. King Adland was already there, reclining at one end of the table. "Whoah," Estmere exclaimed. "That's the biggest coffee table I've ever seen. Dude, where's the chairs?" "You skunks and your quaint customs," Adland chuckled. "I don't know how you manage to keep healthy. Here, we recline at the table. It stimulates the appetite and promotes proper digestion." Estmere and I approached the table at the places indicated by the servants. I arranged pillows until I was in a position roughly similar to King Adland's: Lying on my left side, propped up on my elbow, with my right arm free to reach the table. Servants began bringing in dishes. There were dozens of small cups and bowls, each containing an amount of one specific thing. There was a bowl full of peas, a bowl full of figs, a bowl full of rice, a bowl full of salt, and on and on. "You look confused," Adland observed. "The Great Auk teaches simplicity in all things -" "Simplicity?" Estmere exclaimed. "Dude, there's gotta be like a hundred little dishes here." "True, but each thing is itself in its simplest state. We do not combine ingredients into chaotic stews and concoctions as your undisciplined Northern cooks do." "Your daughter is in 'S Pain?" I asked, changing the subject. "Sounds like a dreadful place to be kidnapped." "Well, 'kidnapped' is perhaps too harsh a word," Adland hedged. "Edessa unfortunately bumbled into Bremor's clutches while trying to navigate a route through some Gates, and he .. perhaps feeling a bit too comfortable due to the lenient diplomatic relations we permit him to enjoy with Faerie.." "You have relations with lowfolk?" I gasped, horrified. "Mainly economic intercourse," Adland clarified. "The Gaps, as you know, are a great hindrance to trade. King Bremor is an enthusiast, deeply interested in what I think his people refer to as 'Matters Occult'. It seemed only natural therefore, since the Gaps tend to drop us in the lowfolk world anyway, to trade information for tangible goods. We were getting the best of the bargain, but it seems Bremor had treacherous intentions after all." "That's lowfolk for you," Estmere scowled. "Can't trust any of 'em! But don't worry dude, I said I'd rescue your fair daughter, and by Fuma that's what I'll do!" "Brother," I insinuated quietly. "What if, when they call her 'fair' they mean that she is equitable, in other words that she would be a good judge..." "It is true," Adland concurred. "Edessa's wisdom and sagacity are widely lauded in the surrounding realms." "But how does she look in judicial robes?" Estmere inquired hopefully. "Extremely hot," Adland stated matter-of-factly. 2Image: 0725reports At that moment a servant rushed in and leaned close to King Adland, whispering in his ear with a suspicious sidelong glance at me. "Really?" Adland replied. "All of them? Floating, you say? Oh yes, actually, I saw it earlier. And you don't know where she is now? Interesting. Well, continue the search. She must be in the palace somewhere." "It seems the Silverbrushes caused quite a scene in my seraglio," Adland addressed Estmere and me after the messenger left. "Everyone was all agog over that floating kit of theirs. All of the femmes got into a debate over the proper care of gassy infants, and your floozy used the opportunity to make her escape." "My apologies, Your Majesty," Estmere said, abashed. "Honestly I didn't even mean to bring her at all, but she stowed away on my ship. I'll gladly recompense you for whatever trouble she causes." "Tut tut," Adland tutted. "I admire a spirited floozy. Having to chase them adds a bit of fun to the venery. I've no doubt she will turn up eventually." Before the King could say anything else, another servant came in with a large covered dish. "Ah," Adland boomed, clapping his hooves. "We don't usually have meat at my table, but in honor of our heathenish omnivore guests, I've had the kitchen roast a peasant - er, pheasant. This will be quite the treat." 3Image: 0725doily "Wait just a moment," Adland paused, eying the dish suspiciously. "What's that sticking out underneath the lid?" "It looks like a lace doily," I observed. "Very fancy, dude," Estmere approved. "Never before have my cooks garnished anything with a doily," Adland muttered darkly. "Such frills are not in keeping with our philosophy. I have strong misgivings concerning this." 4Image: 0725outrageous "BY THE BEAK!" Adland thundered as he lifted the lid to reveal Bessie the beetle underneath. "A diabolical substitution! This smacks of the kind of low japery that passes for cunning among those of a vulpine persuasion! CAN ANYONE CONFIRM FOR ME THE EXACT WHEREABOUTS OF MISTER SILVERBRUSH??" The King's outburst was interrupted by a cackling "Hudalaleigh!" that echoed around the room. "Now then Adland, me boyo," the voice continued. "Sure and perhaps that'll teach you to be more respectful of your elders and betters. Out o' respect for your gracious forebears, you'll note that she's not on the carpet. Hoo hoo!" ************************************************************ 1Image: 0801displeased "This dish displeases me greatly," Adland declared as he replaced the lid over Bessie. "Saddle my ant and bring me my jodhpurs! It is time for a fox hunt!" "I'm really sorry about all this, Dude," Estmere apologized. "Estvan Silverbrush also kinda invited himself along, although I've gotta admit we probably wouldn't have made it here without him. Anyway, since he came here with me I feel sorta responsible for his actions, so let me help you track him down." "Your offer of aid does you great credit," Adland remarked. "However I've a feeling your particular skill set would be better utilized in seeking your wayward floozy." "Dude, I can TOTALLY do that," Estmere said with a grin. "Consider me on the case!" Estmere got up from the table and hurried out a side door. Some servants came in with Adland's hunting clothes, and he strode out after them, with nary a word of dismissal to me. How rude! 2Image: 0801sigh As I reclined - all alone - at the table, I listened to muffled shouts and crashes and trumpet blasts coming from various parts of the palace, and I pondered the reason I had come to Caer Adland in the first place. The whole point of this excursion was to obtain Princess Edessa as a bride for my brother ... but she had apparently been taken prisoner by a lowfolk potentate, which greatly complicated matters. Estmere rashly offered to rescue the Princess, but he seemed to have great difficulty staying on-task as long as there were floozies around. When I thought about how the rescue could be effected, and by whom, I began to realize the inevitable. I was going to have to do it. And there wass no way I was going to do it in these clothes. I needed something comfortable and dignified to wear if I was going to be rescuing princesses today! I knew without even looking that the Hand hat would have magickally returned to my Elfintory, but finding my familiar green suit was another matter. Oh well, one more elf hunting for something around the palace wasn't going to look out of place ... 3Image: 0801getready "HUDALALEIGH!" Estvan exclaimed as he pooked onto the table next to me. "Tis a fine day's work, sure, and more fun than I've had in many an age! They'll be rememberin' this day for years to come! I've left -" He was interrupted by a loud crash followed immediately by Adland bellowing "WHO LEFT THAT THERE?" off in the distance. "Och, he's found it already," the old fox chuckled. "Speakin' of finding, here's your clothes. You'll be needin' them soon enough, says I. Oh, and there's a pheasant now in me debt, which may prove useful .. or not, as the Lady decides. Whisht, whisht, me boyo, get changed! I'll turn me attention to this sumptuous repast and just you let me know when you're decent, for it's plans we need to be makin'!" While I changed out of my robe and back into my green satin suit, Estvan uncovered Bessie. The beetle crawled up his arm to perch on his head while he enthusiastically examined the array of small dishes on the table. 4Image: 0801sonowwhat "Well?" I asked as I smoothed down my jacket. "Have you got some sort of plan?" "Mumf," Estvan replied around a mouthful of food. *********************************************************** "King Adland mentioned that his kingdom is engaged in commerce, of a sort, with the lowfolk," I mused. "Could this be Fuma's Mistake?" "Doubt it," Estvan muttered. "Sure and I'm still not sure this 'Mistake' is Fuma's own doing, but if it was, it couldn't be Adland's because he follows the Auk." "I guess that makes sense," I granted. "Still, lowfolk are involved, and I must confess I know very little about them." "Sure, and you know how easy they are to lure into the woods," Estvan pointed out. "As long as you don't let them get the upper hand, why, dealin' with lowfolk is safe as houses!" "But what about Estmere?" I asked. "Now that he's King, is it even allowable for him to leave Faerie?" "Sure and he'll have to," Estvan declared. "It's you'll have to do the most of the work, but sure and it's him that'll have to do the final rescuing. You can't win a princess by proxy at all, at all. Tis the King's arms she must swoon into when the time comes." "Actually," he continued after gulping another handful of food, "this caper bein' in the lowfolk lands works greatly to our advantage. I know some tricks from the Long Ago - I was an amateur god for a while, did ye know that? - anyway there are magicks, seldom heard of now, which are effective against them but quite useless here in Faerie." "What was it like being a god among the lowfolk?" I asked, cleverly postponing the truly vital issues at hand. 1Image: 0808iwasagod "Hudalaleigh, what times those were," Estvan sighed wistfully. "Sure, and me followers could be persuaded to do almost anything for me. Twas fun when I had them offerin' me virgins as a sacrifice, and when that got old I asked for the first-fruits .. especially fresh eggs and young rabbits .. cushlamochree, tis hard to beat the hearty simplicity of lowfolk rabbit & eggs. Thinkin' about it makes me hungry all over again." Estvan absentmindedly picked up a bowl and popped something from it into his mouth, then started coughing. "What about the magick?" I asked. "What spells work on lowfolk, and why on them but not on elves? Are you all right?" "Sure and I think somethin' might've gone down the wrong pipe," Estvan wheezed, wiping a tear from his eye. He handed me the bowl of food. "Try these. It's interested I am to know what you think of them. And please do take off that ridiculous hat. I can't take you at all seriously when you've a giant glove on your head." I removed the Hand hat and stuffed it into my Elfintory. I took the bowl from Estvan and looked at the bright red peppers within. I picked one up and took a bite. "Pretty good," I said, chewing reflectively. "A little spicy, I guess, but yeah. That's all right." "Hmm," Estvan grunted thoughtfully. "Well, it's not sure I am at all as to why some of these magicks work on lowfolk but not on elves. Could be because lowfolk are not at all magickal, they've no defense against it." "By that logic it could work on some elves nowadays," I remarked, biting into another pepper. "Mayhap," Estvan mused. "One of your most basic weapons is, of course, Elfsong." "I already know that one," I interrupted. "I've used it to lure lowfolk into the woods back when Estmere and I were kids." "Good on you," Estvan chuckled approvingly. "Then you know that whereas Elfsong makes elves feel wistful, it places lowfolk completely under your thrall as long as you keep singing. Now then, in addition, I've discovered a certain charm of Gramerye which, if you have it written visibly somewhere about your person, makes you invulnerable to lowfolk physical attacks." "Hey, now THAT sounds handy," I acknowledged. Estvan handed me a slip of paper with the secret phrase written on it. "Keep that in your Elfintory and use it before heading into danger. Now then, you already know how to transmogrify and do a bit of a Pooka Vanish. You'll find that in the lowfolk world these feats are much easier than they are in Faerie - again, I've no idea why - and furthermore, you'll be able to do them TO the lowfolk if ye should wish." "Neat," I interjected, munching another pepper. 2Image: 0808ahair "For a more active defense, it's needful that ye learn Elfshot," Estvan continued. "Elfshot will stun lowfolk insensible and put them under your control for a short while. You can make a magickal arrow out of practically anything long and thin: A splinter o' wood, a pine needle, one o' your own hairs ..." "I think I've done that one," I interrupted. "With some teeth from a comb. Except I don't know how I did it. And I used it to shoot elves. And they, um, died." "Begorrah, that's unusual," Estvan observed. "Sure and it may have been somethin' other than Elfshot. Pay close attention now, and I'll show you how tis done." "Can't you come with us and teach me on the way?" "Ochone, lad, this is something you and your royal brother must do yourselves," Estvan insisted. "Just the two of you, with no hangers-on interfering. Which reminds me, it's disguised you'll need to be. Can't show up at Castle Bremor as an elf King and Prince. Far too obvious. Sure, and I'll have to teach you a Glamer as well, to conceal your identity." "What about the, um, you know, the time thingy?" I asked. "Last time we were there for a day and a night, and when we got back it had been twenty years! Estmere can't be gone from his kingdom that long! The Duchess of Daisies will take over!" "Aye, that's a good point," Estvan replied with a nod. "But sure, I discovered during me own sojourns in that land, that time and space are interrelated. We lost much time because we fell through a gap and had to travel a goodly ways back to the Albric Tor Gate. If we could have re-entered Faerie at the exact same location we had left it, then the elapsed time on both sides would have been closer to equal. Hmmm, how much is it you know about Gates? I suppose a quick explanation of that is in order as well, then..." (line) MEANWHILE in the corridors of Caer Adland: 3Image: 0808seenhim "Ods bodkins!" King Adland grumbled. "This fox is far more cunning, crafty, and annoying than our legends even begin to suggest! The only traces of him I've been able to detect have been rather unpleasantly rigged to lie in ambush for me. YOU!" he bellowed, suddenly turning and pointing at Meadow, who had been following him down the hallway. "Have you perchance seen hide, hair, or other spoor of our vulpine quarry?" "Er ..." Meadow stammered. "No, Sire, I've not detected him at all since you began the hunt." "Drat. Well, he shall undoubtedly show himself when we least expect it. Stay close!" Adland stalked down the hallway, and Meadow silently ducked into a side corridor. (line) And elsewhere in the Caer Adland palace corridors: "There you are!" Estmere exclaimed as he rounded a corner and spied Doris hiding behind a large urn. "That was totally easy. Finding this Princess is gonna be a cinch!" "Your Majesty," Doris gasped after Estmere's passionate kiss. "What's to become of me?" "Sorry babe, but you'll have to serve in Adland's harem for now," Estmere admitted reluctantly. "It's like, a matter of Statecraft. But I'll try to ransom you somehow. Maybe claim you as part of the dowry? We'll see." 4Image: 0808founder "DUDE!" Estmere yelled at maximum volume. "I like totally found the runaway floozie and am heading back to the banquet hall now!" "Head on back to the seraglio, babe," he whispered to Doris. "I'll see you later." (line) "That's me cue, lad," Estvan said upon hearing Estmere's announcement. "They'll be comin' back any minute so I'd best be away. Remember what you've learned!" ****************************************************** 1Image: 0808bestedme A short while later, Estmere and Adland arrived simultaneously in the banquet hall. "Dude," Estmere said with surprise at the sight of Adland. "Indeed," Adland muttered darkly. "It seems that Mister Silverbrush has bested me. I shall not underestimate him again, but for now I deem it best to give up the search. At least one of us found our quarry. Where is the floozy now?" "I persuaded her to return to the seraglio," Estmere stated. "You won't have any more trouble with her." "I observe, Prince Adler, that you've changed back into your traveling clothes," Adland observed. "Yes, I think we should embark on the Princess Edessa rescue mission as soon as possible," I explained. "Whoa, dude, first we gotta at least examine her room and search for clues," Estmere declared. "Why?" Adland asked dubiously. "We already know she's being held by King Bremor of Spain." "No offense, dude, but any additional info could be important. Better to have checked and not found anything than to be like halfway to Spain and then be all 'OH CRAP IF ONLY WE HAD CHECKED FOR CLUES FIRST.' You know what I'm sayin?" "No, I do not. But Edessa's room is this way, if you feel you must search it." "I do feel that, dude." I accompanied my brother into the Princess's boudoir. Our search turned up very little in the way of useful evidence of anything, though we did find a trunk full of gauzy, billowing gowns, as well as numerous pots of perfume, paint, hoof & horn polish ... "Check this out," Estmere said triumphantly, handing me a card with the motto "VISIT SUNNY IBERIA" printed on it. "Hmmm," I mused. "That might be important. You should hang onto it, just in case." 2Image: 0808aclue Bessie began buzzing and chattering excitedly as she pulled something out from under the bed. "Dude, how'd that enormous beetle get in here?" Estmere asked indignantly. "What's that she's got?" "Here now, give it here, that's a good girl," I chided as I picked up the beetle and tried to take the object away from her. She didn't want to let go at first, but I grabbed her thorax with both hands and Estmere yanked the object free. "Well, what is it?" I asked. "Is it a secret clue written in code or something?" 3Image: 0808whataclue "No way dude," Estmere breathed reverently. "It's a way better clue than that. Now I'm feeling really inspired to go rescue this Princess babe. Like, right now, bro. Let's go DO this!!" "Wait a sec .. Hey Bro," Estmere continued as an idea occured to him. "Could you do that thing where you use a personal item to track somebody, like you did that time when we were looking for ... you know who? We could totally track Princess Edessa that way, dude." "Assuming this even belongs to the Princess," I cautiously qualified. "I am certain that article is hers," Adland snorted grumpily. I took the item of clothing and got into a psychometric trance. 4Image: 0815psychobra "Dude, what do you see?" Estmere asked eagerly. "Describe her to me." "I see a very, very tall antelope femme. She has her father's hair but her mother's graceful figure, and long straight horns," I murmured hypnotically. "That's her," Adland stated flatly. "So this is her bra then," Estmere declared triumphantly. "Yes. I said so approximately five minutes ago." *************************************************** 1Image: 0815byfumaweshall "Fret not, King Adland, dude," Estmere proclaimed. "As Fuma is my witness, I shall rescue your fair daughter from the sinister clutches of king what's his name from wherever." "Bremor of Spain. And I wouldn't call his clutches sinister, exactly. He hasn't even asked a ransom yet." "Elves pay no ransom to lowfolk!" Estmere bellowed. "Someone fetch me my royal jumpsuit! Bring me a sword and a fast ant! And Bro, better give me back that bra for safekeeping. I'll hold onto it til we need it." "Royal jumpsuit not a good idea, Brother," I cautioned. "We are going to have to go in disguise. Bremor will be on the lookout for elves attempting to rescue the Princess." "Any weapons you carry will have to be well concealed in Elfintory," Adland advised. "And no ants, I'm afraid. The lowfolk of Spain ride horses." "WHAT?" Estmere and I both asked simultaneously. "And the horses LET them?" "These horses are quadrupedal beasts," Adland explained. "Riding ferals around?" Estmere boggled. "That ... dude, that's weird." "That's lowfolk for you," Adland shrugged. "The idea of disguises is a good one. My staff can help you assemble the necessary accoutrements." "We could go as Irenaeus and Jack O'Napes," I suggested, blurting the first thing that came to mind, without thinking it through. "We should go as Irenaeus and Bucephalus," Estmere rejoindered. "I would have to be Irenaeus, because my fur is white." "Think again, Bro," Estmere muttered darkly. 2Image: 0815grumpyadland "Both of you think again," Adland interjected. "Dressing up as famous elves is as bad, if not worse, than going completely undisguised. You'll need to come up with something that wouldn't look out of place in lowfolk Spain." "True, but we know nothing about it," I pointed out. "Do you have a guidebook we can consult? What's the weather like there?" "It is hot, and the rain stays mainly on the plain," Adland sighed. "Bremor fancies himself a great patron of art and culture, so something that appeals to his aesthetic fancy would most likely get you into his palace. As for the rest, my Ladybirds go to and fro twixt here and the low lands all the time. They can tell you more. Now, you must excuse me. I'd like to wash before this glue hardens and I find myself permanently be-feathered." Adland rang a small gong on his way out, and moments later an Ixie flitted into the room. "Greetings, Pop," she buzzed cheerfully. "What dost thou wish to know?" (line) 3Image: 0815sillyclothes A little while later, we had passed through the Caer Adland gate and were walking through the forest of lowfolk Spain. We had disguised ourselves as touring Bards. "Remember, if it ever comes up, we must imply that you are Sir Oreo the Bag-lutes Master, and I am your singing servant Blanc-Mange," I reminded Estmere. "Dude, that's awfully close to lying," Estmere complained. "I'm not a Bag-lutes Master. I barely know how to play the dang thing." "Arguably, that maketh thee a master at it, Majesty," the Ixie pointed out. "I am fairly certain Bremor hath never heard nor seen one, so how's he to gauge thy technique?" "Maybe so, but this outfit is ridiculous. I look like Estvan Silverbrush, for Fuma's sake! Bro, didn't you cast a glamer to disguise us? How come I've got to wear these silly duds?" "The glamer reinforces our disguise," I explained. "But it works best if you're actually wearing one." "Well okay, but if you don't quit giggling, I'm gonna punch you. My singing servant should be more respectful of my dignity, dude." I composed myself just as our group emerged from the woods onto the side of a road. "Give me the Princess's bra," I demanded, "so I can figure out which direction we need to go." "Cheese it, dude," Estmere responded. "Somebody's coming. Let's ask them for directions." At that moment a horse-drawn cart rattled into view around a bend in the road. I tried not to stare in astonishment at the pathetic creature pulling the vehicle as I stood, waiting for it to approach. As the cart got nearer, I saw that a tall blond-haired rabbitess was driving, while another figure lolled lazily among an assortment of bundles in the back. 4Image: 0815zazacart "Hail, fair dames," I called out, imitating the lowfolk manner of speech as indicated by my Ixie daughter. "Knowest thou the way to yon King Bremor's yon palace, prithee withal?" "Tis up the road that way," the rabbitess replied, jerking her thumb over her shoulder. "We've just come from there." "Drive on, Hester," the other person said insolently. "A powerful Olera hath no time to stand and gossip on the roadside with common entertainers." Estmere and I silently watched the cart roll out of sight. "That was a really beautiful skunk lady in the back of that cart," I murmured wistfully. "Did you see her?" "Yeah sure, I guess," Estmere grumbled. "But dude, we're not here to scope out lowfolk babes. We're here to rescue an elvish Princess, and the castle is this way!" I shrugged, turned, and followed my brother down the road toward Bremor's castle. ******************************************************** 1Image: 0823lookback I paused and looked back as Estmere continued determinedly down the road. Could that skunk woman have been Zandar Skönk? No way; the chances against that kind of coincidence were astronomical. Besides, as I recalled from what my mother told me, Zandar had been a Changeling out on the far Eastern edge of the Empire. What in the worlds would she be doing here, of all places? Still, if the lowfolk world contained such examples of skunkly pulchritude as that, it was little wonder that the elves of old found it hard to resist the temptation to come here as often as they did. The extent of your experience in the lowfolk world up til now had been when Estmere and I were much younger, using Elfsong to lure hapless victims into the Tulgey Wood outside Albric Tor. My training (shudder) with Sheila Na Gig took place in the lowfolk world as well, but that was in her cave - not out and about at large in the world itself. I also spent that day wandering, when the Silverbrushes and the Vulpitanians and I all fell through a Gap, but I had never done anything like this: Actually going to a lowfolk settlement to face them on their own turf! Even with all the tricks Estvan showed me, I was still feeling apprehensive. In the old stories, elves seldom fared well in encounters with lowfolk! While I was strolling along, lost in thought, I heard a yelp up ahead of us, and somebody yelling "STAND AND DELIVER!" I pulled my bow out of Elfintory and ran forward. 2Image: 0823whoadude "Whoah," Estmere said a few seconds later, looking at the bandits strewn all over the road. "Where did you learn to shoot like that?" "Utica taught me." "Aw man ... did you have to mention her??" Estmere groaned. "Sorry," I shrugged. "Are they dead?" he continued, after looking at the bandits for a few seconds more. "I don't think so," I replied. "I used Elf-shot on them." "I dunno, Bro. They aren't breathing. We should probably mosey on outta here." 3Image: 0823naderiath "This incident reminds me," I interjected. "I have some wards that we should wear to ensure our safety. No telling what other perils we may meet before we even get to the castle. Here, tie this around your hat band so the words are visible." "Dude, I already feel like enough of a wuss in this frilly get-up without walking around wearing a ribbon that says 'Don't hurt me.' How's this gonna help? If I saw somebody wearing this, dude, I'd feel OBLIGED to slug him." "It's Gramarye," I explained. "Lowfolk won't be able to harm us while we wear it. And quit complaining about your costume. Adland's Minister of Fashion said that you look like a fine Iberian gentleman." "Well I feel like a fancy Iberian floozy," Estmere complained, tugging at his lace collar. "Trust me, you aren't even half as pretty as that skunkess who passed us in the cart," I assured him. My brother slugged me on the arm. (line) Skulking in the bushes: 4Image: 0823topful Covert Operative Meadow Grainmaster was on a dangerous mission, protecting the King in the lowfolk lands! ************************************************************ Nothing else of interest happened on our way to the castle. We passed fields, herds of cattle & sheep, a small stream, a dilapidated mill ... it was all very quaint and charming but not particularly interesting. 1Image: 0823guards The castle was well-fortified. It wasn't as big, and definitely not as fancy as Albric Tor, but what it lacked in proportion it made up for by being in good repair - and by being fully garrisoned with personnel who were NOT potted plants. I saw bowmen on the battlements. Pikemen standing on the parapet. Two guards with pole-axes on either side of the gate. "More skunks?" one of the guards remarked. "The Olera just left us this morning after finishing the King's horoscope." "After wringing all the gold she could get from him, more like," the other guard muttered. "Verily these stink-cats must ever move thither and yon about the countryside, for none can stand them to abide in one place for long." Apparently skunks were not rare here. I decided to ignore the insult - for now. I had often wondered about the Yew-man, a fantastical creature that was found only in the lowfolk lands. For a long time I thought they were a legend until I saw one in the woods that day I fell through a Gap. Now might be a good chance to find out more about them... "Hail thee, forsooth!" I called out to the gate sentries. "Hast espied any Yew-men sithens yon yesternoon, mayhap?" "YECCCH," one of the guards replied. "We repel those hideous creatures with excessive force should one dare approach the stronghold. But who art thou, and what business brings thee to King Bremor's door?" "Let me do the talking," I thought to Estmere with Elfmind. He flinched and looked around as I continued, aloud, to the sentry: "Hast not heard tell of Sir Oreo, Baglutes Master, and his sweet-singing servant Blanc Mange?" "Nay," the guard answered bluntly. "Peradventure perchance they twain stand before thee then," I replied cautiously. "And marry, pray, who's to gainsay else? La! Fie! Folly!" "Thy master seemeth over-quiet," the other guard remarked. "Tis said, the great Sir Oreo bandieth but few words. But soft! A demonstration mayhap is in order! Hit it, oh Baglutes Master!" 2Image: 0823gatesong Estmere started squeezing the bag and a cacophonous jangling began. I yodeled a bit of Elfsong in roughly the same key that Estmere was playing. "Enough!" one of the guards declared. "Thou singest well enough, pretty squire, but thy master's playing confoundeth every concept of music which I hold dear." "Tis weird," the other guard remarked. "Verily, the King will love it." "Thou speakest true," the first guard chuckled. "Very well! Come with me, bards or whatever thou may be." 3Image: 0823ahorse The guard opened the gate and ushered us through into the entryway. Another pikeman came up and indicated for us to walk in front of him, into the inner courtyard. Estmere and I both cringed in alarm at the sight of a feral horse standing stupidly just inside the portcullis. "Hast never seen a horse before?" the guard asked skeptically. "Where we live, folk ride ants," I answered without thinking. "Thou'rt from Eire then?" "That general area, aye," I replied, recalling dimly that this was the name of the lowfolk realm outside the Albric Tor gate. "How camest thou all the way here without seeing horses?" the guard asked wonderingly. "Most of our journey was afoot," I explained. "Pardon us. We are simply not used to the sight of such beasts." "Knowest any Eirish elf-lore?" the guard asked. "King Bremor is dearly fond of elves, he is." 4Image: 0829crafty "If your King is fond of elves, dude, he's going to be very fond of us," Estmere chuckled mysteriously. "What meanest thou?" the guard asked curiously. "Pay no mind to my master," I stammered. "He is thought by many to be ill-spoken. I oft-times do the talking, and the singing, whilst he play 'pon yon bag-lutes." (line) (The next section parallels the rather inaccurate lowfolk re-telling which is classified as "Child Ballad no. 60" for those of you who like to follow along at home.) ******************************************************** 1Image: 0829whinny We were ushered through another large door, into a long, lofty chamber with a long table down the middle of it, and a throne on a dais at the far end. The horse followed us in, nipping at the back of my tabard with its teeth and neighing idiotically. "Away, fell beast!" I hissed as I jumped up onto the table to get away from it. 2Image: 0829bremor "By the Prophet's Beak!" King Bremor bellowed. "What's a horse doing in my hall? Great Auk! Why is that fellow standing on the table? Explain thyselves, varlets!" I was momentarily flustered, and Estmere used the opportunity to exclaim: "My servant is insolent, thou royal dude. No matter how often I slug him, his attitude never be-seemeth to improve-eth. Hast anyone on staff who can perchance whippeth some sense into him?" I stared horrified at my brother while King Bremor grinned and exclaimed "Indeed I do!" Estmere looked back at me and winked coolly. "MISTER KEMPE!" Bremor bellowed. An enormous swine in a leather jerkin lurched into the room. "Mister Kempe, remove Esmerelda from the hall." The swine stomped ponderously over to the horse, which whinnied desperately and looked at me with what would be a pleading expression if it wasn't a dumb beast. Mr. Kempe grasped the horse around its midsection and hoisted it off the floor. He carried the animal, kicking and snorting, out through the door, then trudged back in, casually dusting off his hooves. "Now, Mister Kempe," Bremor sneered. "Thrash this impudent fellow who is standing on my table!" I considered using Pooka Vanish to get away, or maybe taking a wild chance on transmogrifying this gigantic thug ... but any use of magick would instantly give away my elfish identity, and greatly complicate our mission! Estmere watched with a calm smirk as Mr. Kempe advanced toward me and clenched his fist. It looked like I was going to have to take a beating for the good of the Empire... 3Image: 0904clobberin I had no idea why Estmere did this, but I was definitely going to get him back for it. I glared coldly at my brother as Mr. Kempe glowered at me and cocked his arm for a punch. I could feel the swine's fetid breath in my face as he silently regarded me. "Well?" Bremor bellowed. "What art thou waiting for? Get on with it! Pummel him!" "Can't," Mr. Kempe grunted. "Why not?" "Says on his hat not to hurt him." "A Gramerye charm?" Bremor instantly deduced. "Thou! White-furred one! How didst thou obtain this?" 4Image: 0904musicwile Before I could answer Bremor's question, Estmere - who had used the distraction to move closer to the throne - broke out into vigorous cacophony on the baglute. *********************************************************** The Kempe suddenly got a shifty look in his eyes, as if he had suddenly figured out a loophole. He grinned, closed his eyes, and balled up his fist... Could he ignore the Gramarye charm if he couldn't see it? I had to act fast to defend myself! After quickly checking to make sure nobody else was paying attention, I whispered a bit of hastily-composed Gramarye to keep the big brute occupied: "Leather breeches, itch, itch, itch!" 1Image: 0912itchy Mr. Kempe started scratching and tugging awkwardly at his trousers, hopping up and down in a manner that seemed to be almost in time with Estmere's music ... thereby creating the illusion that Estmere's playing actually had a rhythm to it. Or maybe the beat I was hearing was coming from the door, which sounded like it was being kicked. Muffled neighing and whickering suggested that the horse was raising a ruckus outside in an effort to re-enter the hall. This seemed a bit odd, but what did I know about feral horses? I had plenty to think of, without worrying myself over this weird equine. By this time I had realized that Estmere pulled his little stunt to provide a distraction, knowing that my magickal ward would protect me from harm .. but still it was a mean trick, and I was going to have to get him back for it somehow. At the moment, however, he was keeping the lowfolk royalty spellbound. "What is this?" Bremor yelled over the racket. "It soundeth like a dozen rag-pickers fighting in the street over a pile of discarded crockery!" Estmere continued playing. "It soundeth like a bunch of minks in a sack with a broken harpsichord!" Estmere kept on playing. "Bard, I suggest thou releasest whatever blighted creature thou hast in that bag, and let it fly away," Bremor quipped loudly. Estmere played on. 2Image: 0912wistful "Bremor, dear, it isn't that bad," the Queen sighed inscrutably. "Actually it reminds me of home." "Thou LIKEST that atrocious cacophony?" Bremor asked incredulously. "I did not say that. But it does remind me of minstrels who would come playing traditional songs from the Antglades." "THOU! BARD!" Bremor bellowed. "Knock off that noise for a moment and tell me, is that an elvish instrument thou art playing?" "It is," Estmere replied. "Sell it to me!" the king demanded. "Name thy price, only sell me this bag-of-lutes so that I may play it to delight my wife ... IN BED." 3Image: 0912sass "Nay, thou royal dude," Estmere replied smugly. "Thou shouldst like, sell me thy wife, for verily she'd be way more satisfied-eth with me!" "Great Fuma's ever-fragrant rump!" I swore quietly to myself as I sidestepped the unpleasantly-writhing Kempe. I wanted to get away from him before he caused a scene ... although it might serve as a distraction from my tactless brother, who seemed to have completely lost his mind. Either way, it was probably best to get away from Mr. Kempe, and the door, which sounded like it could be kicked down by an enraged horse at any moment. 4Image: 0919outrage King Bremor sat there with his mouth hanging open for what seemed like a really long time. Everything happened in slow motion as I rushed to my brother's side. Estmere chuckled and said "Name thy price, dude. Elves do not lie." "And neither do we," I exclaimed hurriedly. "Tis a pretty custom is it not? Men of Eire are reputed to be well-steeped in elfly lore! A song, milord!!" The last bit I yelled desperately, with a meaningful glance and a nudge at my brother. Fortunately he took the hint. He squeezed the lute bag and it began to jangle tunelessly. ******************************************************** 1Image: 0919elfysong I warbled out the ballad of the Wayward Maiden as best I could, while sending an Elfmind message to Princess (Queen?) Edessa. "Meet your ardent suitor King Estmere of Albric Tor," I thought at her. "He's come to rescue you from this lowfolk oaf and make you Queen of Faerie." 2Image: 0919suspicion Edessa leaned forward, suddenly very interested in our performance. "I like not this song," Bremor growled irritably. "In fact, methinks something be highly suspicious..." I kept singing, throwing in an extra dose of Elfsong to soothe King Bremor. 3Image: 0926jaccuse "CEASE THY WARBLING!" the monarch bellowed. "Thinkest thou canst call me a lowfolk oaf to my face and then lull me with Elfsong? My wife is a Princess of Faerie and I am hep to thy tricks!" Oh crap, did I sing my Elfmind message out loud?? "Way to go, bro," Estmere muttered disdainfully. "Everything was going fine and you had to louse it up. I knew the Wayward Maiden didn't have verses about lowfolk oafs in it." "ELF SPIES!" Bremor shrieked. "Edessa is here by her own choice and thou'llt not steal her away from me!" I dismiss the first idea that popped into my head (apporting King Bremor's trousers to some distant location). It was simply too silly. I had to think of something else, and quickly!! "GUARDS!" Bremor hollered. "Get in here and arrest these villains twain! GUA-" 4Image: 0926elfshot For a second the room was eerily silent except for the quiet twanging of my bow string. "Dude," Estmere whispered. "Did you have to kill him?" "He's not dead," I snarled grumpily. "But I've had enough of this nonsense. Grab the girl and let's get out of here." ********************************************************* 1Image: 0926cryfoul "O FOUL UNSEELIE WIGHT!" the Kempe squealed from the other end of the table. His eyes bulged in horror as he pointed a trembling hoof at me. "DISGRACE! TREACHERY! MURDER MOST VILE!" 2Image: 0926badhorse Mister Kempe's monologue was cut short by the horse kicking in the door, which knocked him unconscious and pinned him to the table. The horse reared up on its hind legs and neighed maniacally. 3Image: 0926letsaway "I wasn't quite ready to leave yet," Edessa sighed, "but it appears the decision has been made for me. All of this seems uncannily familiar somehow ... but never mind that. We must away, and quickly! Esmerelda will take us back to the Kir al-Adland Gate." "Hi," Estmere purred. "I'm Estmere." "We're not ... riding that beast are we?" I asked nervously. I was sorely tempted to Pooka Vanish out of here and leave my brother to clean up the mess ... "On come on bro, don't be such a wuss," Estmere scoffed. "Anything that's got hooves, I can tame it! Seriously, how hard could this be compared to an ant?" 4Image: 1003giddyup My brother bounded forward and leaped onto the back of the feral horse. The horse stood there and snorted angrily. "Dude, um, where are its spiracles?" Estmere asked as he prodded the horse's sides with his heels. ********************************************************** 1Image: 1003howcome "So, what exactly brought you to the lowfolk realm if their king didn't kidnap you?" I asked Edessa. "Bremor is a scholar and great appreciator of magickal lore," the Princess answered. "He has one of the best libraries in the two worlds, so I came here to study." "You LEFT Faerie to study magick?" I asked skeptically. "My father's court doesn't place a high value on lore, and the Great Auk has never been too keen on magick," Edessa replied. "What is your brother doing?" "Honestly I'm not sure," I replied as I watched Estmere bouncing on the horse's back, whistling and poking it in various places with his finger. "Not that it isn't amusing to watch, but we need to be on our way," Edessa remarked. She waved her arms in a peculiar manner ... 2Image: 1003getoffme ... and the horse turned into a horse-elf! "GET OFF ME YOU FOOL!" she bellowed. "You've ruined my mistress's situation here already; you needn't disgrace me any more than you already have! The guards will soon be on high alert and we must needs be away from here!" "My apologies, madam," Estmere said with a courtly bow, after dropping off the mare's back and quickly regaining his composure. "Had I known who you really were, I would have asked permission before mounting you." "Save it for your floozies, skunk-king," Esmerelda whinnied. "Everybody gather around me and hang on. If you fall out of the circle I'll leave you behind." 3Image: 1003whoosh The mare cast a spell and suddenly we were hurtling through space at a terrifying speed! I fell down and grabbed Edessa's ankle to keep from being blown off of the circular patch where our group was standing. "WOO HOO!" Estmere hooted. "This is awesome!" It only took us a few minutes to be whisked back to the clearing in the woods near the Caer Adland gate. "What was that?" I asked as I dusted off my clothes and tried to straighten my hair. "Rapid Transit," Edessa answered. "It's far more effective than Pooka Vanish over long distances, but alas, I can't cast it very well. My hoofmaiden Esmerelda is an expert at it though, which is why I disguised her as a beast of burden and brought her with me..." 4Image: 1003whosthis The Princess trailed off as we approached the gate and spied a familiar-looking person snooping around it. "Who's this douchebag?" Estmere asked. *********************************************************** 1Image: 1010giggles "Dude," Estmere chuckled. "What if his name is Feather McDuster?" "Bird Ferguson," I giggled. "That's a funny name." "Peckerhead .. um .. O'Beakly," Estmere snorted. "Actually his name is Percy le Gobelet," I recalled. "That one's more odd than funny," Estmere opined, waving his hand indecisively. 2Image: 1010dotdotdot While my brother and I were busy making fun of him, Percy politely raised his hand to speak. We ignored him. 3Image: 1010courtly Estmere turned, took Esmerelda's hand, bowed, and kissed her hoof. "My Lady's lovely servant," he schmoozed. "Consider me your servant. I am bewitched by your beauty as well as by the sweet magicks you used to get us here so quickly. You have my thanks." Esmerelda whinnied girlishly and batted her eyelashes. I was a little disgusted by this amateurish display. I was about to say something, when I was interrupted by someone yelling "AVAUNT!" 4Image: 1010posse I turned to behold a group of variously-armed guards from Bremor's castle, led by a hound dressed like a wizard. "Surprised, Elf?" the wizard scoffed. "Well thou should'st be!" "Expected'st to stupefy my liege and whisk away through the aether, Scot-free?" the wizard continued. "NAY, thou treacherous varlet, for Bremor's capital is a veritable seat of learning for Arts both dim and dark! Thou'rt not the only ones who can Rapidly Transit, heh heh, and now thy doom is at hand. But I'll not risk what is rightly my lord's in this encounter. Lady Edessa Tulani! To me! Leave yon villainous elves and stand safely behind our battle line." "Aw crap," Edessa sighed. "Sorry, guys." "What are you doing??" I hissed as Edessa started walking slowly toward the band of guards. "I sort of .. led them to believe that knowing my name would give them power over me," she sheepishly admitted. "But it doesn't," I pointed out. "Yeah but they don't know that, but I gave my word, and I'm kind of obligated..." "WHY do elves DO that??" I screeched. "Every time we get among the lowfolk it seems like we lose all common sense!" "You don't understand," Edessa said reproachfully. "It was extremely amusing at the time." "ENOUGH CHATTER!" the wizard bellowed. "Wicked elves, prepare thyselves to meet thy doom!" ******************************************************** 1Image: 1010sketcher Percy hunkered down behind one of the gate stones, and pulled out his sketchbook. This was a rare opportunity to witness elves in battle! He had a duty to record this for posterity! (line) The only record of this epic fight is found in The Sketchbook of Percy le Gobelet, from which the relevant material has been excerpted. 2Image: 1010chaarrge I seemed to hear thunderous battle-music as if hundreds of shawms and bodhrans were playing in the air all around. With a fierce cry, the noble Skunk launched himself toward his foes. 3Image: 1010dodgem With uncanny agility he dodged and twisted, avoiding arrows and quarrels as if they were standing still, frozen in the air. 4Image: 1010whamme He flew at his enemies faster than they could see, pummeling them with his naked fist in utter contempt of sword, mace, or pike. ******************************************************** 1Image: 1010copout A few seconds later, Estmere glared at me over his shoulder from his crouching Attack Position. "Dude!" he panted. "Seriously bro, what is your deal?? I was just getting warmed up! Do you have any idea how frustrating that is?" "We need to get back to Faerie," I mutter coldly as I clutched my bow. I was not in the mood for any more shenanigans! (line) Lurking nearby: 2Image: 1010meadowpeeps Meadow observed the fight from the bushes. She had been ready to spring into action to defend her king, but before she could even move, the battle was over! Between Estmere's barbaric ferocity and my ruthless efficiency, she started to begin to think she wasn't needed... (line) I suspiciously surveyed the area one more time before tucking my bow back into Elfintory. 3Image: 1010onward "Now, ladies, shall we?" Estmere asked as he linked arms with the two femmes and strolled toward the gate. "That was quite a display of machismo, Your Majesty," Edessa purred admiringly. "What an elf you are!" Esmerelda whinnied. An odd thought struck me. The male bath attendant back at Caer Adland seemed to know some Wiles. Perhaps I should investigate this further when I returned to Caer Adland. There might be connections to the Sisterhood .. or .. hmm, somebody did try to have me kidnapped and brought here twenty years ago, after all. Or maybe I'll avoid investigating that... Either way, I had to return to Faerie, so you step toward the portal. 4Image: 1019glom "Take me with you!" Percy le Gobelet implored as he lunged forward and glommed onto my leg. "How in the Netherhells did you recover so quickly?" I snarled in surprise. ************************************************************* 1Image: 1019safetyhat "After our last encounter, I did some research," Percy cackled proudly. "I sought high and low for a thaumaturgical crafter who could make for me an Elf-shot resistant beret." He held the beret up and pointed at it. "It cost me a pretty penny, but it was well worth it! Now I can -" 2Image: 1019doop Percy stopped abruptly as I shot him again. He slumped to the ground and commenced making soft burbling sounds. 3Image: 1019udontneedme "Fuma's Whiskers!" Meadow exclaimed. "You guys don't need me at all, do you?" "Miss Grainmaster??" I flinched. "What are you doing here?" "That's the same question I'm starting to ask myself," the mouse replied glumly. "I was trailing you in order to protect the King, but you've been able to handle every situation with speed and efficiency. It's making me start to question my usefulness." "Tut tut," I tutted reassuringly. "I'm sure the Empire still needs you. Let's get back before Estmere gets into trouble, eh?" We stepped through the portal ... 4Image: 1019ruhroh ... and found ourselves still standing in the Spanish woods on the other side. I could still hear Percy le Gobelet burbling. "What happened?" I asked. "Why aren't we back in Faerie? Why didn't it work?" "Oh dear, oh dear," Meadow murmured nervously. "This is not good. Something must be blocking it on the Faerie side." "Could be, but what?" I asked, worriedly. "Antagonistic forces might have taken over the region," Meadow mused. "Or ... or ... I never thought I'd consider this preferable, but perhaps our costumes are barring our passage..." *************************************************************** 1Image: 1024thatstupid "That is utterly preposterous," I mused aloud. "First you express worries about your usefulness when it's clear you are very competent, then you make an absurd statement about our clothes blocking the portal. Maybe we should swap outfits just to see if that would make a difference?" "Interesting," Meadow sneered. "When presented with the opportunity to see me naked, you instead ask to wear my clothes. Would you like me to take you shopping when we return to Caer Adland?" 2Image: 1024dangit "That's not what I meant," I growled. "I was trying to point up the ridiculousness of what you were saying - and I don't care about seeing you naked." "Uh huh. The long hair is beginning to make sense now, Your Highness." "It's a fine, traditional elfly hairstyle!" I insisted. "Irenaeus himself had long white hair, and you'll never find a more masculine elf than him!" "Right. Well, since we were unable to pass through to Faerie, SOMETHING must be interfering with the Gate. It is known that some portal Gates can be tuned to filter out certain items, and our clothes may have been rejected because you're dressed like a lowfolk person -" "So was Estmere!" I interrupted. "And I'm wearing a Covert Operative suit," Meadow continued, ignoring me. "But now that my cover is pretty much completely blown, the suit's no good anymore." "That still sounds really dumb," I grumbled. "But if you insist on passing through naked, I'll go first." "I shall go first," Meadow correctede. "We don't know what's on the other side, and you are technically royalty so I have to try to protect you." "We'll go through together," I stated with finality. "Fine, but leave your clothes here. If they are the cause of the problem, we won't be able to take them with us." 3Image: 1024arrival We walked through the gate only to be confronted by the spectacle of my brother lolling in the undergrowth with his arms around Esmerelda and Princess Edessa. All three of them were nude. "Bro! You made it!" Estmere called out cheerfully. "And, heh heh, it looks like you had the same idea we had. One of those freaky Gaps started to form right in front of the Gate just after we came through. I remembered hearing that venery will sometimes make them go away, and there was some time to kill while waiting for you to show up ... Though I dunno about your selection there, dude. Is that Meadow? What's she even doing here?? But oh well, I guess in an emergency any elf's better than a lowfolk chick, am I right?" 4Image: 1024pushybush Before I could compose a response to my brother's insensitive remarks, a bush behind him started rustling. I had not noticed this bush a moment ago ... but it would have been very difficult to overlook, since it had an old-fashioned helmet perched on its upper limbs, and a spear stuck in among its branches. "Dude, your timing sucks," Estmere scowled. The bush rustled some more. There was no breeze. "Does anybody here speak Tree?" Estmere asked loudly. ********************************************************** "I know the Voice of the Forest," I reluctantly admitted. "Well then, dude," Estmere offhandedly commanded. "Take care of this." He gestured vaguely toward the rustling bush. "Just a second," I insisted. "I need something to wear." I concentrated my will on an apport; I wished to conjure up some CLOTHING! 1Image: 1101banana Well. A banana suit. I supposed that was what I deserved for trying to pull something randomly out of the aether. Didn't Estvan tell me that apports had to come from somewhere? If you don't know where an item is, it's very hard to magickally retrieve it. The Bush Knight rustled accommodatingly and extended a branch with some good medium-sized leaves. "That's awfully kind of you to offer," I replied. 2Image: 1101leaves On closer inspection, those leaves looked like Poison Oak. Just what was this Bush up to? "I'm afraid I would have a hard time assembling those together into a garment .." I muttered evasively. 3Image: 1101ugotclothes "Not dressed yet, Your Highness?" Meadow squeaked impishly. "What are you waiting for?" "HEY!" I exclaimed, pointing at the dress Meadow was wearing. "Where'd you get that?" "You should know, Prince Adler," Edessa piped up, "that an elvish princess never travels without bringing several changes of clothes. And my hoofmaiden is an excellent seamstress, so she can alter my garments to fit as needed." "Yours is ready," Esmerelda neighed happily. 4Image: 1101gown "Quite flattering, Your Highness," Meadow squeaked, barely stifling a chuckle. "Dude, you actually look pretty classy in that," Estmere guffawed. ********************************************************** 1Image: 1110caledonia Acting on a sudden inspiration, I used Gramarye to persuade the dress into a significantly more manly form. This was similar to something Irenaeus was said to have worn during one of his Northwestern campaigns. I reconfigured the banana suit into a sporran, to stunning effect. "Sweet, Bro," Estmere murmured approvingly. "Now then," I declared, with newfound confidence. "Let's find out what this Shrub Knight wants." 2Image: 1110reports As soon as I squatted in front of the bush, it extended a bundle of papers clutched in a dry branch ... and the Hand hat appeared on my head. "Dude!" Estmere chortled. "I thought you got rid of that thing." "Must be Official Business," I muttered dejectedly. It was difficult to make out some of what the bush was saying, but I relayed its message as best I could to the King. "Apparently his regiment hasn't been paid in a while," I paraphrased. "And if something isn't done soon there will be a ... what? An uprooting and shedding of leaves? I'm not sure what that means but it doesn't sound good. They want water, bonemeal, and more pollinators provided immediately. Also there's something about a scroll-swap with the Vulpitanian Premier .. and a huge backlog of Security Reports which the Right Hand of the King is supposed to approve every day, but which have been neglected for the last twenty years. Great Fuma!" "Sounds like you've got your work cut out for you, Bro," Estmere chuckled. "But, um, I can handle that scroll swap for you since it sounds like you already have your hands full." 3Image: 1110secret Suddenly one of my Ixie daughters poked her head out of the Shrub. "Relay this not unto thy royal brother, Sire," she thought at me with Elfmind. "Tis for thy mind only. The Shrubs have been compromised by forces not exactly friendly toward thy dynasty." "Who?" I thought back. "I cannot say more at this time. Ask thyself: How came a shrub all this way from Albric Tor? Seek what is behind it pulling the strings. I further caution thee to beware the Vulpitanians. Also the Duchess of Daisies is on the war path; twere best not to tempt her wrath by returning through the Antglade at this time." 4Image: 1110alldressed Before I could thank the Ixie, my brother interrupted. "Dude, I hate to break up your intensely official conference with that bush .. and I'm like REALLY sorry the venery session seems to be over. I think we all got dressed prematurely, and we might ought to reconsider that decision, because .. well .. check that out." He pointed at something behind me. *********************************************************** 1Image: 1110newgap I turned to look, and beheld the grey smudge of a Gap re-forming in front of the Gate. "Once venery has been used on these things, it doesn't work a second time," I explained. "We'd better get away from here as quickly as we can." 2Image: 1110tracks The Shrub Knight rustled anxiously as we all proceed calmly but swiftly away from the scene of the developing Gap. As I mused on the meaning of my daughter's warnings, I noticed a series of wires leading from under the bush off into the undergrowth of the surrounding forest. 3Image: 1117foxblind I looked along the ground, following the wires with my eyes until I saw them disappear underneath a cleverly-constructed blind. I thought I recognized a familiar set of ears and stylish bangs peeking over the top of the blind. "Please do not engage her in conversation," Corporal Hyacinth rustled plaintively. "Best just pretend she's not there. This situation is uncomfortable enough already." I shrugged and moved on, disregarding the fox lurking behind the screen. 4Image: 1117fresh "Nice outfit, Your Highness," Meadow squeaked huskily. "Is that a banana-shaped sporran, or are you just happy to see me?" "It's a sporran," I replied. Was Meadow using Wiles? I couldn't understand why she would, but it certainly seemed like that was what she was doing. ********************************************************** "When we return to Albric Tor," I explained loudly for the benefit of all, "we must find a different route than the one we took to get here. I fear we may have angered the Duchess of Daisies, and it is probably not safe to cross through her realm again." "You came through the Antglade?" Princess Edessa asked, with a hint of admiration in her voice. "That was very dangerous!" "Totally worth it," Estmere schmoozed, with a smoldering glance at the Princess. "But we have to return to Caer Adland before we can even think about going home. We've got to, like, let Adland know that his daughter is rescued and stuff. But even before that, I insist we stop for a rest and some refreshment at a tavern. I'm pretty sure I saw one at the edge of the forest when we were heading out." "That would be Ibrahim's Place," Esmerelda stated. "Good ale and excellent roasted chickpeas there." (line) 1Image: 1117papers After arriving at the tavern and getting settled at a table, I accepted a sheaf of papers from Corporal Hyacinth. I decided I might as well use this time to get some work done. I tried to tune out the sound of a bard playing across the room as I scanned the top page of tiny, closely-packed script. "Great Fuma!" I exclaimed after looking over the first few sheets. "If I'm reading this right ..." "I wonder if it might be time for a career change," Meadow interrupted. "I have Covert Operative skills, but nothing I can really use as a reference. Plus, I've done so much Operative work, I'm really getting tired of it. Dame Chitterleigh can vouch for me as a housekeeper, but again that's something I've done. I've never tried Floozy work, but recently I've gotten a new perspective on it, and the more I think about it .. could be an interesting change of pace .." I let out an amused snort but managed to stifle further laughter after noticing that Meadow seemed to be serious about a career change. 2Image: 1121suspicion My vanity tempted me initially to believe that Meadow was acting this way because she was genuinely attracted to me, but that was the first trap that males always fall into; it was what gave the Wiles their power! My training had taught me that females were never spontaneously attracted to males without some ulterior motive. Normally they had to be persuaded or tricked into venery. Since I had done no deliberate seduction on Meadow, these Innuendos and Coy Glances could only mean one thing: She wanted something, and was attempting to use Wiles to manipulate me. The question now was: What was she up to? 3Image: 1117notwhy Suddenly my concentration was broken by the sound of my brother yelling. "THAT'S NOT WHY THEY CALL IT THE BLAHS, YOU OVERGROWN LIZARD!" Estmere bellowed at the bard. "You are totally showing disregard for Thorwald's Edict!" Gracious Goddess! Estmere had all but accused the bard of lying! These were Fighting Words! (line) On the other side of the room: 4Image: 1121barmaid "Ma'am," the barmaid insisted. "Tables are for paying customers." "Away!" SALV Chetsweeks hissed. "You are jeopardizing my Operation! Click!" "If you don't buy a drink I am going to have to ask you to leave." "Fine," the Vulpitanian pouted. "Bring me a flagon of oil. And make it dark! Beep." ****************************************************** Estmere confronted the alligator Bard. "I said I GUESS that's why they call it the Blahs," the bard grumbled. "Don't play semantic games with me!" Estmere protested. "You have enough information at your disposal to make such guesses a reckless and irresponsible handling of the truth!" "Under any other circumstance I would hafta demand satisfaction," the bard said calmly, in a gravelly voice. "But I can see by the crown on your head that you is royalty and spillin' your blood would be a crime. Shall we settle this thing like gentlemen?" "BARD BATTLE," Estmere confirmed. "And may Fuma bless the victor." "Since I'm the one being challenged I take my right to go first," Elfin John said with a bow. 1Image: 1121eflinjohn He strummed his tiny four-stringed lute and began to sing: "Goodbye normal jeans. Now I got my polka-dot trunks. I would have liked to've worn you But you didn't fit. So I threw you out much long before The denim got broken in." 2Image: 1121challenge "Enough!" Estmere snarls as he started to inflate his baglutes. "Stop trying to distract everyone with irrelevant nonsense! Your old pants - if they exist, which I doubt - have nothing to do with the origin of the Blahs! Prepare yourself for a veritable Breeze From the Antglade!" A horrible, nigh-deafening cacophony erupted from the bag. It was truly the worst sound I had ever heard. Most of the tavern patrons, along with the alligator bard, beat a hasty retreat out the front door. 3Image: 1121tunecrisis The Shrub Knight shook miserably and dropped leaves before the sonic onslaught. Papers blew out of my hand and fluttered across the room. My eyes watered, literally stung by the sour notes in the air. "Hold me, Your Highness!" Meadow wailed as she grabbed onto me. "I want to be caressed one last time before I'm taken up to Fuma!" 4Image: 1121victory Princess Edessa stumbled forward through the noise and frantically clutched Estmere's shoulder. He stopped playing. "You have conquered, O King," Edessa panted. "Now give it a rest." "THAT WAS AWESOME!!" Estmere yelled. "I cleared the room, like INSTANTLY!" "Indeed, your playing has improved," Edessa added. ****************************************************** Quietly, while everyone was distracted: Image: 1121gather SALV Chetsweeks gathered some of the scattered papers. ******************************************************* 1Image: 1121flirtyflirt "So then," I said, dusting myself off as my ears stopped ringing. "If you're serious about taking up a new career, I could use a personal assistant." "Would I be working directly under you?" Meadow asked, with a roguish eyebrow wiggle. "You would be answerable to me, yes," I clarified. "Do you take dictation?" "That depends on who's giving it to me," Meadow answered, leaning against me and biting her finger coquettishly. Wow, Meadow was either really out of practice with her Wiles, or she just didn't care about subtlety. "Well, there's a lot of work to do," I continued. "We have to sort through all this paperwork. It looks like Marshal Theronmyathus has been promulgating a series of ever-expanding regulations, working his troops past the limits of their endurance, and multiplying paperwork like .. like .. something that multiplies rapidly." "Mushrooms?" "I guess. But we may find ourselves in conflict with the Marshal because I am going to have to curb his activities and bring him back within the bounds of reason." "I never liked him all that much anyway," Meadow sniffed. "There could be a fair amount of travel involved," I pointed out. "I'm used to that." "Danger." "Same old, same old." "Weirdness." "Bring it on," Meadow said with a lusty grin. 2Image: 1130disarray "These papers seem to be in disarray!" I exclaimed with dismay. "Let's go somewhere quiet and I'll help get you all straightened out," Meadow suggested, as she grabbed my arm. "That might not be necessary," I observed as I looked around the room. "It appears that SALV Chetsweeks has helpfully gathered up all of the papers for me." (line) Meanwhile, in a different place: 3Image: 1121nyeheheh A mysterious figure's monocle glinted wickedly as she stared into a scrying sphere held in her hand. "Zis mouse is acting very peculiar," she said, loudly, to the sphere. "Keep ein close eye on her, und of course ze young Adler as vell. Schtudy zese papers you haff picked up und zee if zere is anyting interesting in zem. Und if ze bush giffs you any more problems ... BURN IT." ************************************************************ TIMESKIP At this point in the first telling of the Ballad, my Forum readers seemed to grow impatient. They wanted to skip ahead to the "next interesting bit," in blatant disregard of the interesting things that were happening at this very moment. 1Image: 1130fireworks We skipped over the budding romance between Meadow and myself. 2Image: 1130earmuffs We skipped over B.B. Crooker, aka 'Elfin John' and his wacky Blahs-based antics. His bard-battle rematch with Estmere shall forever remain the stuff of dim, half-remembered legend. 3Image: 1130vulps We skipped over the tragic details of the Shrub Knight's distress. We forgot about Hoofmaiden Esmerelda, and never even talked about the two Vulpitanians playing Frontgammon in the corner. ************************************************************** JUMPING AHEAD TO: Albric Tor, an unspecified time later. 1Image: 1207rulebook I was sitting behind my desk in the official office of the Right Hand of the King. A Vulpitanian Frontgammon board and dice cup rested on the desk in front of me. Meadow Grainmaster twined her arms around me affectionately as I tried to puzzle out the rules of this game from an old copy of Wise Professor Skunk's Basics of Vulpitanian Frontgammon. I had tried initially to learn the game from Former Ambassador Anthony Sweatcheeks, but it turned out he was horrible at it. "It was awfully nice of Queen Edessa to bring this book from the Library for me, but I still don't understand why the fourth stone moves differently from the others," I muttered. "Nor why you're not allowed to just open the board and play on it." "Frontgammon is a mental game, darling," Meadow sighed. "Actually seeing the board would ruin its mystique. If the delegates want to play, just leave it to me. I used to be the best player outside the Republic." Every few days Meadow surprised me with another of her many skills. I had not yet had any cause to regret hiring her on as Personal Assistant and Floozy to the Right Hand of the King. She brought a lot of experience and enthusiasm to the job. Meadow seemed to genuinely enjoy working in the public sector, and would probably have been willing to serve me even if I hadn't used some of my strongest Wiles on her. Yes, I used Wiles on her ... because it never hurts to be sure. No, I did not teach her any Wiles ... because that would be crazy. Anyway, thanks to her tutoring, I at least knew the basic rules of Frontgammon, and would be able to talk about the game with the delegates from Vulpitania - who were said to be well-known tournament champions back home in the Republic. 2Image: 1207salute Grand Marshal Theronmyathus stepped into my office (which had no door) and snapped off a crisp salute. "I have the reports you requested, Highness," he croaked, placing a scroll and a folder full of papers on my desk. "You might want to disentangle yourself from your Floozy and try to act professional. The Vulpitanians are here. My staff will be watching closely every move they make, and may I again express my thanks to you for supporting me in that regard." "Elves do not lie," I said, reciting an old Imperial proverb. "But a Vulpitanian can never be trusted." (line) I thought back on how these Vulpitanians had been invited to Albric Tor in the first place ... It wasn't long after the Royal Wedding. Theronmyathus had been gathering intelligence from all the Gap-free places in the Empire that could still be reached. There were undercurrents of grumbling which did not bode well. "I'm afraid marrying Edessa hasn't appeased the populace very much," I explained to Estmere. "The Gaps are still spreading, and people are complaining that you've chosen an unsuitable bride." "Dude, Edessa is TOTALLY suitable," Estmere protested. "She's like a legit princess and smokin' hot too! What more do the people expect??" "They're saying you should have married a skunk." 3Image: 1207thppt "AW, SICK," Estmere spluttered. "Maybe YOU should marry a skunk! I know all about your taste in women, bro. You and Meadow: Totally GRODY, dude! Besides, like the only eligible lady skunk of royal blood is the freakin' Duchess of Daisies, and if the people want HER for their queen then they are totally nuts." "There might be other candidates that could be found," I suggested, thinking of Zandar Skönk, who was presumably still at large in the lowfolk world somewhere. "Dude, I already have a queen. It's a done deal. If some skunkette shows up wanting a royal mate, well, you'll have to marry her yourself. That's my final word on this." "There's a concern that you and Edessa can't produce an heir," I added. "I've got people looking into that," Estmere said, mysteriously. 4Image: 1207floozies Later, on my way out of the Palace, two of Estmere's Cabinet Ministers cornered me. "The King has made his decision," Lana Lynne whispered menacingly. "All that needs be said, has been said. The Sisterhood does not want you to bring this matter up with him again. Two Vulpitanian experts on Fertility Science have been invited. Welcome them in your role as Right Hand and Chief Diplomat. Under no circumstances should you mention the missing Changeling." ******************************************************* Back in the present: 1Image: 1207vulps The two Vulpitanians entered my office. Both were dressed in black. The male wore spectacles and carried a briefcase. The female clutched his left arm and surveyed the room with a haughty air. "Greetings," the tod said formally. "I am Rotnev Nidab of Upper Vulpitania. This is my mate and partner, Nexivydah Semos. Do you play Frontgammon?" he added, noticing the accoutrements of the game on my desk. "I've been trying to learn," I admitted feebly. "How nice," Nexivydah sneered, licking her chops as she inspected Meadow. "Look, Rotnev, dear, they've provided refreshments. Doesn't she look tasty? You certainly can't fault Imperial hospitality." "I'm afraid Miss Grainmaster is my assistant and not an hors d'oeuvre," I pointed out, using some of the fancy terminology I had learned since returning to the Court. "What a pity," Nexivydah sighed. "She looks like she'd go perfectly with plums and cheese." "Do you perhaps have a bottle of Three-and-a-Half anywhere about?" Rotnev asked hopefully. "Much to my chagrin, the Gaps have interfered with trade between the Capitals and Elfhame," I admitted regretfully. "I've got some Persoc Peach Schnapps around here somewhere, if you're interested ... but the only Three-and-a-Half I know of would be in His Majesty King Estmere's private stash." "I'll wait then," Rotnev sniffed. 2Image: 1214haveaseat "Please, sir, madam, do sit down," Meadow said obsequiously as she slid a few chairs into position. "Make yourselves comfortable." The Vulpitanians sat. Nexivydah jumped back up with a yelp. She examined the seat of her chair for a moment, and then sat back down. 3Image: 1214atack "Just look, Rotnev dear, what the Morsel put in my chair," she said, holding up a shiny brass tack. "That's a classic," Rotnev said with a snort. "I see our hosts have been doing their research. I applaud your efforts to make us feel right at home. It's just like vacationing in Lower Vulpitania." "Permit us also to extend a gesture of .. what's the word?" Nexivydah declared. "Goodwill," Rotnev whispered. "Ah yes, goodwill. Please accept this as a token of our official diplomatic esteem." She pulled a greyish-brown loaf-shaped object out of her Elfintory and placed it on my desk. 4Image: 1214fruitcake "Thank you," I murmured, as Meadow and I stared at the object. "What is it?" "It's a Vulpitanian fruitcake," Nexivydah replied. "According to tradition they are handed down from one generation to the next. It has many uses." "Well, thanks again," I said as I carefully moved the fruitcake off my desk and placed it atop a filing cabinet. "So," I continued. "As I understand it, you're here to present your research to the Imperial Committee for Population Concerns. Do you perhaps know Sir Evan Klive, the previous emissary to that post?" "I am familiar with his father's research," Rotnev admitted. "Actually I've always been a great admirer of Egdelwon Klive. We were all disappointed by his son's failure, and I can assure you that I intend to succeed where Evan fell short." "Does your work involve using lowfolk in a similar way to the Klives' Ferifax Arch design?" I asked. "I've based my designs on a similar principle, but as I understood the invitation my mate and I received, our focus is to be on the Royal Couple; helping that - if you'll pardon my saying so - mismatched pair conceive a child." I nodded, unsure what else to add to that. ****************************************************** "But enough business for the moment," Rotnev added, with a grin. "I can't bear to see a Frontgammon board and not play! Would you indulge me in a match?" "As I said, I don't really know all that well -" I started. "To make it more interesting, how about some stakes?" Nexivydah interrupted. "If Rotnev wins, we get your little Morsel there. If you win, you get ... me." I blinked at the vixen in astonishment. "Not for keeps, of course," Rotnev added. "Just for a few days, for fun. And I promise I won't let Nexy eat your friend." "Really, I'm afraid I would offer you no challenge whatsoever," I stammered. "You should play against Meadow. She's much better at the game than I am." Suddenly I felt a pricking at my Elfmind. 1Image: 1214think "Take them up on their challenge, Sire," one of my Ixie daughters thought at me. "If they get rid of Meadow, it will ease thy relations with thy brother's Ministers." The Ixie brought up a valid point. I had gathered that the Sisterhood did not approve of Meadow, and Estmere's high-ranking Floozies (aka Cabinet Ministers) had made it clear that they didn't like her being so close to me. The Ministers seemed to have gotten a lot scarier since Estmere married Edessa... The Ixie's presence reminded me of my own experiences with cross-species fertility. Also of the Mer-elves who apparently had some sort of secret breeding technique which I told myself I was going to investigate, but never did. I thought again that I really should do some research into these matters, and see if my findings tallied with Rotnev Nidab's theories. It was important for Estmere to produce an heir, but I didn't want to place him and his wife in any unnecessary risk. "Tis extremely important that the King thy brother produce no heir of his own blood," the Ixie reminded me. "Remember what thy mother told thee. The Sisterhood is watching. Also, ask thyself why Vulpitania is so willing to help. And keep thy Elfmind guarded. They will be trying to spy upon thee." The Ixie flitted away, out of sight. "Very well," I sighed. "Let's play, I guess." 2Image: 1214yourmove Rotnev narrowed his eyes and leaned toward me with a look of intense concentration. "Your move," he whispered. I rattled the dice box and set it down. I could not see the dice inside, and consequently had no idea what number I had just rolled. "Eighteen," I declared. "Just enough to bring my Green Cat out into the Square of Becoming." 3Image: 1222astonished Rotnev stared at me with his jaw agape. "There's," he stammered, "there's no such piece and no such space on the board." "Are you sure about that?" I asked smugly. "We can open up the board and take a look, if you like." "No, no!" Rotnev exclaimed hastily. "It is extremely poor etiquette to open the board, especially a fine-quality Vulpitanian model made by Srehtorbre Krap, such as I see this one is. It contains a magickal space similar to an Elfinitory. If we were to open it, the contents might explode into the room ... or we all might get pulled into it ... no, Your Highness, I'll take your word on your opening move. Though I thought you said you were an inexperienced player?" "I've read a few books about the game, and Meadow has coached me," I confessed. "But I don't really know all the finer points of strategy." "You're certainly starting off like a seasoned pro," Rotnev remarked with a satisfied chuckle. "This will be a challenge after all. I'm going to have to take the game much more seriously now." 4Image: 1222competition Despite the fact that I had important things I should have been doing, the Frontgammon game dragged on and on. Rotnev and I each tried to distract the other, to make our opponent forget what was happening so we could move pieces and rearrange the board. The game got increasingly harder to keep track of as we both started making up crazier and crazier moves. It took a great deal of concentration (as well as helpful suggestions from my Ixie daughter via Elfmind) to put up a plausible front of seriously attempting to win. I of course intended to lose, since Meadow and I had agreed beforehand that we would take advantage of any pretext to insert her as a spy in the Vulpitanians' quarters. What we knew about this pair, Nidab and Semos, indicated that they were just the sort of decadent Unseelie elves to propose such a wager. And, after my experience with Sir Evan Klive, I paid close attention to the potential secrets hidden in their names. These two were definitely not to be trusted! *********************************************************** Interminably later: I was starting to get exhausted. It shouldn't have been this hard to lose a game of Vulpitanian Frontgammon! But I had to make it look good, or else they would get suspicious. Eventually Rotnev shook his head and leaned back in his chair. "It seems neither of us has any more possible moves," he said, with a regretful sound between a sigh and a laugh. "We have reached a Double Gordian Impasse. Truly this has been the most satisfying game I've played in years." 1Image: 1222stern "Rotnev, my dear, you did not win," Nexivydah growled suspiciously at her mate. "And you did not lose either. How is it that a Frontgammon champion was unable to achieve the desired outcome?" "I'm sorry, my love," Rotnev shrugged. "The Prince plays like a Vulpitanian. This is all I could manage against him." "I suppose the wager counts for naught then," I shrugged. If Meadow wasn't going to be spying on these foxes in their boudoir, well, I still had a backup plan. "It's getting a bit late," I added, with a glance out the window. "There's just enough time to introduce you to Their Majesties Estmere and Edessa, before I show you to your quarters." "If you'll follow me," I stated, rising from my seat, "I'll conduct you to the Royal Audience Chamber." We all filed out into the corridor. "What's the history of Frontgammon?" I asked, making conversation to speed up the walk from my office to the Audience Chamber. "Legend tells us that it was invented by Saint Reynard as a way to distract a savage tiger," Rotnev explained. "Does anybody know what's actually contained in the board case?" I inquired. "That is one of the great mysteries of the game," Rotnev sighed dreamily. "I hope you haven't attempted to investigate. Stories abound of elves who have met with dire misfortune after tampering with their Frontgammon boards." 2Image: 0102follow "What exactly is a Gordian Double Impasse?" I thought at my Ixie daughter. "And what did Ms. Semos mean by her remarks at the end of the game?" "The Gordian Impasse is a way of acknowledging thy opponent's skill without conceding to him the victory," the Ixie explained. "Tis probably best thou takest it as a sign of respect from the Vulpitanian. The vixen, however, believed that her mate was supposed to either win or lose the game. She is displeased that he declared a tie." "Hmm," I mused thoughtfully. As we walked, I pondered the present state of the Empire. Interestingly, the Cabinet Ministers had turned out to be honest and capable administrators. Dodie O'Doe regulated palace expenditures with an iron hoof - so despite the dramatic slump in trade caused by the expanding Gaps, and the apparent extravagance of Estmere's court, the Royal coffers had been hardly affected at all. But I also knew that the Ministers were Sisterhood-affiliated Floozies .. it seemed the Sisterhood was everywhere, along with an unknown number of other shadowy organizations, each with its own sinister agenda - not to mention the devious Vulpitanian operatives who had just arrived. I also knew that the Ixies had a reputation of untrustworthiness, that they would spy for anyone who could persuade them; would their filial affection for me, their father, overrule their inherent avarice? Just in case, I had a plan of my own to keep them distracted while the pair of foxes were in town. "Keep a close watch on these Vulpitanians," I thought at my daughter. "I want to know if either of them is host to a Scuti." (line) 3Image: 0102bonsai I also had a spy planted in the Vulpitanians' quarters. Agent Bonsai was trained in the art of espionage, and I was hoping he (she?) would garner some useful information during their stay. (line) 4Image: 0102allhail We arrived in the Audience Hall, where Estmere was lounging on Sartorius' old throne (which he had pulled out of storage because, as he said at the time, "Dude, it seats four!") The King had his two top Ministers on either side of him, and was dressed in the bathrobe which he had adopted as his official Regalia. I whispered silent thanks to Fuma that today, at least, the robe was tied shut. "The Vulpitanian research team," Dodie said, looking at the day's schedule. "Slightly behind schedule." "Right on time for the afternoon debauch!" Estmere grinned. "Somebody fetch the Queen from the library, and we can get started. I presume you two swing?" "Your Majesty," I interrupted, horrified. "Rotnev Nidab and Nexivydah Semos are here for highly technical thaumaturgical research. I don't think they want -" "Nexivydah, that's a cool name," Estmere interrupted. "Never mind my bro here; he has really lame ideas of what's fun. Just tell me straight up - what do you need from me?" "Ahem, well, the nature of our mission is to investigate the possibilities of cross-species fertility for Your Majesty," Rotnev explained. "We could use a sample of Royal seed, to get started on our research," Nexivydah chimed in. "Dude, no prob," Estmere grinned with a magnanimous gesture. "I can whip up some for you right away." "WELL I'LL BE ON MY WAY THEN IF YOU'VE GOT YOUR PROCEDURE ALL WORKED OUT," I announced hastily. (We have broached the 2016 images with this post, and the Day of Up-Catching draws nigh.) **************************************************** Meadow and I scurried rapidly out of the room and down a side corridor. "I know the Vulpitanians are bound by the terms of the Treaty not to assassinate Imperial Royalty," Meadow muttered. "But I still don't feel right about this." "Me neither," I admitted. 1Image: 0102doorflooz I rounded a corner and was surprised to see Sir Ravenmad standing in the hallway, watching Floozies going in and out of the door to the baths. "His Majesty certainly does like to surround himself with beauty," the poet sighed as he turned to address me. "Sir Ravenmad, what brings you here?" I asked. "Believe it or not, I began to tire of the hustle and bustle of Elfhame." "Elfhame has hustle and bustle?" I asked, surprised. I had always thought of the place as something of a remote backwater. "It used to be quiet, but now it's busy compared to the Capital." "HOW did you get here despite all the Gaps?" "Oh, the Master and his mate are quite knowledgeable in the lore of Faerie Gates. They plotted a route for me, and here I am. The Master sends his regards, as well as this -" Sir Ravenmad pulled a stoneware jug of Elfhame's famous persimmon brandy out of his cloak. "He could not come himself, because things in the Vale are a bit ... weird right now." I pulled the cork out of the jug and took an eager whiff. 2Image: 0111sweat "UGH!" I gagged. "This brandy smells really, really off. I think there's something wrong with it." "Wait. I may have given you the wrong jug," Ravenmad explained, taking it back and handing me another. "Try this one." I uncorked the second jug and took a sniff. Ahh, yes, this was the stuff! The aroma was sweet, strong, fruity and extremely boozy! I tucked the jug into my Elfintory for future enjoyment. "So, what exactly is going on in the Vale of Elfhame that prevented the Master from coming?" I asked. 3Image: 0111weirdness "As I mentioned, there was hustle," Sir Ravenmad elaborated. "As well as bustle. Not to mention a fair amount of hurly-burly. Westersloe VI's experiments with magickally enlarging Elfhame frogs have finally taken a surreal turn. The frogs became sapient and started pulling bizarre pranks, somehow generating pictures of their victims in the process! That, and all the new Winterbough grandchildren - no less than three different species, mind you - getting underfoot, finally convinced me it was time to leave. But the Master himself could not extricate himself from his familial duties at this time." "He has three different species of grandchildren?" I asked. "Pardon me, Your Highness," Meadow interrupted. "I think I shall assume my guise as Towel-Maiden and go eavesdrop on the Floozies in the baths. It's possible some valuable information could be gleaned from their conversation." "That's not a bad idea," I concurred. Meadow scurried through the door into the baths. 4Image: 0111transmog After a moment's thought, I excused myself to Sir Ravenmad, and as soon as he resumed watching the door, I transmogrified myself into an Ixie. "Father, just what exactly art thou up to?" my daughter inquired. "I'm going to sneak into the baths and do a little reconnaissance of my own," I replied. "There are many matters requiring thy attention, and I don't believe this is one of them," my daughter glowered. "Hey, this is an excellent opportunity," I protested. "I can't risk passing it up. I have every reason to believe the Floozy Baths are hot .. er, um, a hotbed of Sisterhood activity. While I'm checking out this lead, how about you go investigate those Vulpitanians? Remember to check them for Scuti." My daughter flitted off with a snort of disgust. I thought of mushrooms as I waited for a floozy to come along, and then flitted through the door as she opened it. ***************************************************** Image: 0111inthere A few minutes later, Sergeant Avogadro came bumbling down the hallway. He carried a carpetbag carefully in front of him. "Excuse me," he said, squinting through his spectacles at Sir Ravenmad. "Have you seen Prince Adler anywhere around?" "I believe he's gone in there to do some snooping," Ravenmad stated, pointing at the door. "The Floozy Baths?" Avogrado gulped. "Oh dear. Well, I guess I'll just have to try to catch up with him later." **************************************************** 1Image: 0111dazed A few hours later, I made my way out of the palace. I learned a lot while spying in the Floozy Baths. Not much of it was relevant to the current diplomatic situation, but it was highly edifying nonetheless. "Father! Sire!" my daughter squeaked as she buzzed up to me. "Come quickly! Agent Bonsai hath been compromised!" 2Image: 0111banzai Following the Ixie, I rushed to the courtyard under the window to the Vulpitanians' quarters. Agent Bonsai was lying on the flagstones. His (her?) pot was shattered, and soil had spilled out. "Are you all right, Agent?" I asked frantically. "I have failed you, master," the small tree gasped in the Voice of the Forest. "The cursed foxes must have realized my purpose. I have brought disgrace to my family name and I ask that you chop me to splinters immediately." "No! You can be re-potted!" I insisted. "What happened?" "The foxes began to fight amongst themselves. The female one picked me up and threw me at the other. Please end my humiliation or I shall die of shame." "What did they fight about? Were you able to learn anything?" "All that this worthless one was able to discover before utterly losing my honor is this: The female one's rank is Scheming Amoral Lascivious Vamp. The male is a Scientific Alchemical Lucent Visionary. They complained that the King's sample contained too few homunculi for their purpose, and that in order to retroactively create a sire for His Majesty, they would require more. The male one insinuated that the SALV had never had trouble acquiring samples from subjects before. The female one declared that if the SALV had helped her instead of fooling around with a Dik-Dik they might not be having this conversation. After that there was gekkering, and then I was thrown like a common piece of crockery." Hmm. The Dik-Dik to which the vixen must have been referring was a particularly exotic Floozy who came from a land far to the South of Caer Adland. Her small stature had always given me the creeps .. and it said something about SALV Nidab if he was giving her his "attention" earlier. I wasn't sure exactly what it said about him, but it definitely said something. "Wait, so Ms. Semos is a Vamp?" I asked. "I thought those were mythical. How is she able to move about during the daytime? Should we be worried about her stealing the King's blood as well as his seed?" "A vamp is a seductive adventuress, sire," my daughter corrected me. "Like a Floozy but with a great deal more autonomy. I doubt the Vulpitanian drinketh blood - at least, not as her main source of sustenance." "It still wouldn't hurt to have extra garlic added to her meals," I mused. "Better safe than sorry." "If you have all the information you need," Agent Bonsai whispered, "I beg that you let me expire with honor." "Certainly not, Agent!" I retorted. "There's no honor in abandoning your duty simply because of an embarrassing mishap. You're the best plant for the job. If I lose you, I'll have to assign Agent Ikebana to take your place!" "That bungler will bring great shame to the whole department!" Agent Bonsai gasped painfully. "Exactly! Which is why you need to show some backbone .. er .. tough bark, and pull yourself together! Did the foxes give any indication where they were going next?" "This lowly one got the impression that they were settling in for the evening. They had ordered supper to be brought to their room before they began squabbling." "Hmm," I pondered. "Their disagreement may have been a ruse to get you out of the room. No point re-assigning you to this job if your cover is blown. Ixie, can you -?" "Some of my sisters are already watching," my daughter interrupted. "And I believe Ms. Grainmaster is also on the case." "If this one is to continue in your service," Agent Bonsai pointed out, "it might be best not to let my roots dry out." I scooped up Agent Bonsai's broken pot and scattered soil as best I could, and carried him (her?) back to my office, where I carefully placed the small tree in a fresh pot. I hung a violet heart-shaped medal on the side of the new pot. "What does the bauble resembling an animal organ signify?" Agent Bonsai inquired. "Consider it a badge of honor," I suggested, "indicating that you suffered an injury in the line of duty, but did not let it stop you. Now then... Let's think about what the Vulpitanians are up to. Obviously they are here in answer to a Royal Summons to help the King conceive a child so that there will be a Royal Heir .. but what's in it for them? Vulpitanians are not known for their altruism; the Unseelie only do things for their own benefit. So, what's the Vulpitanian angle? Are they going to maybe make the Heir a fox? Will that benefit the Republic in some convoluted way?" 3Image: 0118realization "They did not say they were creating an heir for the King," Agent Bonsai pointed out. "They said they were retroactively creating a Sire for him." I stared at the Agent for a few seconds as this sank in. "Can .. can they DO that?" I asked, aghast. "*HOW?*" "I know not." the tree replied. "Tis insidious enough to be a Vulpitanian plan, sire," my daughter observed. "And if they can somehow alter time, or tamper with the King's physical nature so that he is not Gawain's son, then he would not be the legitimate High King of Faerie." "Fuma's Teeth!" I gasped. "He's already part lowfolk because of Evan Klive's experiments with the Ferifax arch. If the two SALVs can pull off some sort of retrograde corruption of his heredity, then .. it would seriously destabilize the Empire! They've got to be stopped!" "Honestly sire, it soundeth like a highly improbable long shot to me," my daughter replied, with an unconcerned yawn. "Nevertheless, I can't allow them to proceed with this plan un-sabotaged. There's got to be a way to contaminate their samples to make them unusable! Maybe I could replace them with my own ..." "Why place thyself in needless danger?" the Ixie asked worriedly. "Sergeant Avogadro was supposed to be bringing me some materials which would actually be useful in this situation," I mused. "I wonder what's keeping him?" (line) 4Image: 0118missagain ******************************************************* My cogitations were interrupted by the sight of Mara Supial-O'Possum barging into my office. She stood in front of my desk, glaring at me and fidgeting anxiously. 1Image: 0118mara "Your Highness, you've got to help me," Mara blurted. "I figure after abandoning my husband in the Gladsome Antglade, you owe me a favor." "What's on your mind?" I asked hesitantly. "The visiting Vulpitanian SALVs have ordered my friend Alice to do something," Mara muttered. "Something wicked and loathsome. And disgusting." Mara's sudden appearance in my office reminded me of Agent O'Possum. I briefly indulged in fantasies of rescuing him from the Antglade, but this was simply not possible. Nobody leaves the Gladsome Antglade without the Duchess's permission (not while she had her Regalia, anyway!) I suppressed a chuckle as I tried to picture Lemmy escaping from the Antglade and living undercover like a real Secret Agent. He was never competent enough to have pulled off something like that. I turned my attention back to Mara. "Let me guess," I declared theatrically as I tried to probe the possum femme's Elfmind. "Your fellow Scuti has been ordered to possess a Floozy in order to collect more material from my brother the King." 2Image: 0125tailipo "Please stop trying to use Elfmind on my host," Mara sniffed as she stroked her luxuriantly fluffy white tail. "It's very discourteous. And before you even attempt it, let me tell you that we Scuti have no Elfmind, so your effort would be wasted. I'll just save you the trouble by explaining everything plainly. Since the loss of my husband, Alice Chetsweeks and I have become very close." "Is she the only other Scuti in Albric Tor?" I interrupted. "That, I cannot say," Mara evaded. "But as you know, her mechanical body is the property of the Vulpitanian Republic, to which she owes fealty. The visiting SALVs have ordered her to exhume the body of King Gawain -" "Whatever for???" I demanded. "To collect a sample from him." 3Image: 0125flip If I was an actor in a low comedy as performed on the Persoc Tor stage, I would have turned a sudden backflip at this revelation, to the accompaniment of rapid slide-whistle glissandos. However, in keeping with my dignity as Prince and Right Hand of the King, I merely cringed and horripilated in my chair. "That's," I stammered. "Is that even possible??" "Alice will have to attach herself to the corpse and take over its functions," Mara explained with a shudder. "This is a thing that is utterly reprehensible to us." "Why doesn't she simply disobey the order?" "That is not an option," Mara sighed. "The Vulpitanians own her. But: If you were to apprehend her in the act of desecrating a Royal tomb, and put a stop to it before she must go through with this horribleness ... well ... we would be in your debt." This new piece of news was making me wonder just what the Vulpitanians were up to. What did they mean by "sire" when they said they were creating one for Estmere? I would have liked to have asked Agent Bonsai for clarification, but now was not the right time - not with Mara Supial-O'Possum standing right there in front of me. 4Image: 0125finally Sergeant Avogadro poked his head into the doorway. "Ah, there you are, Your Highness!" he exclaimed. "I've been looking all over! Er, is this a bad time?" ******************************************************* "Your timing is excellent, Sergeant," I beamed. "Please come in." Avogadro entered the room and placed the bag on my desk. I wondered whether Mara's story might be false, but could I really afford to take that chance? For now, it was safest to assume she was telling the truth. "What exactly do you mean when you say that you and SALV Chetsweeks are 'close'?" I asked her. "Without Lemmy around, I've been getting .. lonely," Mara admitted sheepishly. "Even if I wanted to discuss this in detail, there isn't time right now. She has embarked on her mission and is in the Hall of Ancestors as we speak!" I made a quick decision. There was still time to take care of one other matter before heading out to deal with Alice. 1Image: 0201openbag "Ah, excellent," I exclaimed as I opened the carpet-bag. "Good work, Sergeant." "What -" Mara gasped. "What is THAT??" "Merely part of a traditional Irenaeus disguise from the souvenir shops in Athstead," I explained, as I lifted out a false skunk tail and a white wig. "I'm going to have to move ahead with this ruse immediately," I continued, pulling a few bottles of powdered ingredients from the bag. "Which means I must ask you to perform this task, Sergeant." "M - me?" Avogadro stammered nervously. "It will be simple," I reassured him. "All you have to do is put on this disguise and go to the kitchens. When you get there, insist on tasting the Vulpitanians' food, and then demand that these ingredients be added. If anyone challenges you, state that this is done with the authority of the Right Hand of the King and an acknowledged Stewmaster .. which will be true, since I am authorizing it." "I, er," Avogadro protested. "You'll do fine," I insisted. "Ixie, accompany Sergeant Avogadro and assist him on this mission." 2Image: 0201disguise Avogadro reluctantly donned the wig and the false tail, pocketed the bottles of ingredients, and shuffled out, followed by the Ixie. "And what are those?" Mara asked, pointing to some wooden objects still in the bag. "Ancient Mephitist fertility charms," I explained, snapping the bag shut and stuffing it into a desk drawer. "They were requested in advance by the Vulpitanians as being possibly relevant to their research. Now then! I'm off to the Hall of Ancestors to stop your 'friend' from doing something horrible. Are you coming along?" "I, er, shouldn't," Mara said with a shudder. I locked my desk and hurried out of the Administrative Building, down the hill, and out the South Gate toward the field where the Hall of Ancestors stood. 3Image: 0201hurry "Ah, Your Highness," Sir Ravenmad greeted me. "Sorry, Sir Ravenmad," I blurted as I rushed past. "No time to chat! I've got to stop some villainy which may already be in progress!" 4Image: 0201whyuhere "Is there anything I can do to help thee, Sire?" an Ixie asked as she flitted alongside me. "What are you doing here?" I snapped. "I told you to go with Avogadro!" "I, Sire?" the Ixie asked, perplexed. "Nay, it might have been one of my sisters." "For Fuma's sake," I grumbled. "Just how many of you are there?" "Oh, a score at least," the Ixie shrugged. "I need a way to tell you apart from each other. At the moment I have naught but vague assurances that the Vulpitanians are being watched (and especially checked for Scuti) and that Avogadro is receiving Ixie assistance on his mission to the kitchen!" "Worry not, Sire. We are keeping track of everything," the Ixie asserted. "I myself have nothing else to do at present but to accompany thee, if I may." "I suspect you'll tag along whether I ask you to or not," I grumbled. "Fine, but try to stay out of sight." ****************************************************** 1Image: 0201stopthat I stalked into the Hall of Ancestors and beheld Alice Chetsweeks lifting the lid of my father's sarcophagus. "STOP RIGHT THERE!" I commanded. "It is a violation of Imperial law to desecrate the mortal remains of a Noble elf!" "Thank Fuma, click," Alice sighed with evident relief. "You arrived just in the nick of time, Your Highness." I quickly donned my Hand hat to make everything official, and declared: "SALV Alice Chetsweeks, I place you under arrest. Anything you say can be used against you." 2Image: 0208arrest "I appreciate you arriving to stop me from doing this, beep," Alice sighed, "but you are of course aware that a Vulpitanian citizen cannot be tried in an Imperial court. You may take me into custody, but nothing more. Bzzt." "Then I shall take you into -" I began. "LOOK OUT BEHIND THEE!" my Ixie yelled suddenly. I turned to behold Mara Supial-O'Possum creeping stealthily up behind me, with a wicked-looking implement clutched in her hands. Almost instantly, without thinking, I deployed a Defensive Wile! 3Image: 0208subdued Mara slumped to the ground in a swoon. Her fluffy white Scuti detached itself from her backside and writhed drunkenly, coughing and spluttering. "What did you do to her, tick?" Alice gasped. "Just a bit of body-magick," I explained. "The secret Orgasmic Touch. Mara will be fine; she just needs to sleep off the effects." Alice knelt and gently picked up Mara's wheezing Scuti. "Poor thing, click" she cooed. "We are not really equipped to deal with that kind of physical shock." 4Image: 0208allies "How well do you two, um, know each other?" I asked as I stared - with some repugnance - at the white Scuti's nasty little snout. "Well enough, whirr," Alice evaded. "That's a highly personal question." "What exactly was she -" I started to ask. "I'm sorry this happened, Your Highness," Alice interrupted. "Beep. I am indebted to you for providing me an excuse not to carry out my orders from the visiting SALVs. Furthermore it seems you have unexpected abilities .. how you happen to know high-level Sisterhood techniques is a question I'll refrain from asking, but it's clear you have the loyalty of some surprising, if perhaps unreliable allies. Click. For now, we seem to have arrived at a stalemate. I'll go along peacefully if you still intend to take me into custody." ********************************************************* Lurking just out of sight: Image: 0208onlook "The hurly-burly and brouhaha that surrounds Prince Adler is seldom tiresome..." ********************************************************* I reached over and picked up the pair of clippers Mara had been carrying. "Now what was she planning to do with these?" I wondered aloud. 1Image: 0215gulp "She was going to snip off your tail and place her Scuti on you, click," Alice answered bluntly. "That much should be quite obvious." I gasped as a sudden chill washed over me, and I quickly locked down my Elfmind. "I told her it was a reckless plan, but then again it would be greatly .. beneficial to us if we had control of a member of the Royal Family," Alice continued. "Beep. It was worth a try, and it might have actually worked had your Ladybird not warned you. I don't know how you secured that creature's loyalty, but I would advise you not to trust it, Your Highness. I can tell you from my own experience that the Ixies of the Ominous Orse will betray their allies and their employers for little or no reason, entirely without warning. Bzzt." I glanced around quickly but I didn't see my Ixie daughter. 2Image: 0215confess Mara sighed and drowsily raised her head. "It was all the Scuti's idea, Your Highness," she murmured sleepily. "The two of them plotted this together. Do that thing you did on me again and I'll tell you everything." The opossum femme slumped back to the floor and fell asleep. "My orders from the visiting SALVs, and my repugnance concerning the same," Alice insisted, "were very real. Blip. This created the opportunity to attempt my friend-mate's bold stratagem." I thought over the matter as quickly as I could. Desecrating a Royal corpse was a crime, but I didn't think it could be interpreted as an Act of War. Vulpitania was a client state of the Empire. The visiting SALVs were here as guests of the King, and they would surely insist if pressed that the desecration was required as part of the research they were doing, which - again - was commissioned by the King. If anything, Estmere would probably commend their initiative in getting things done without bothering him about the details. It might have been simplest if I could have killed SALV Chetsweeks .. I would've been justified, since they did try to attack me .. but considering that Alice was mostly mechanical, I wasn't sure if I would be able to kill her, even if she didn't put up any resistance. Should she fight back .. well .. in the past she had shown signs of being very physically strong. I also didn't know much about Scuti, including how to destroy them. "It will be best for you to take me into custody, click," Alice interrupted my thoughts. "If I am left at liberty then I will be obligated to carry out my orders from SALVs Nidab and Semos." "I'm not sure what to charge you with," I explained. "I don't think your attempted act of desecration is, in itself, enough to justify holding you. I could charge you with assault and conspiracy because of this.." I brandished the clippers meaningfully. "But as you know, Vulpitanians cannot be tried in Imperial courts. So you would be back in the same predicament and your friend would have to face justice on her own." "Perhaps if I defect from the Vulpitanian Empire and seek asylum?" Alice hypothesized. "Bleep. Could you then place me in protective custody?" "That might work ..." I murmured thoughtfully. "But I can't leave Mara here. She's an Unseelie criminal; that's the whole reason your 'friend' was placed on her in the first place. As soon as the afterglow wears off, who knows what kind of villainy she will try to perpetrate? So, um ... place your Scuti on her, and we'll stash your mechanical body behind these tombs until we can come back for it." "No," Alice refused. "I will not abandon my body; it is far too valuable, and I have paid dearly to earn the right to pilot it. Click. Plus, the ecstasy of possessing a living, organic body is too great. I know now that I cannot trust myself when in that state of euphoria. Plus, it is a thing deplorable to us, to take control of a body claimed by another Scuti. And what's to happen to my friend-mate if my body is 'stashed' and I am piloting hers? Will we stash her in a tomb as well? So you see, there are many reasons to object to your proposal. Bing." I looked around again for my Ixie, hoping perhaps to send her out to bring backup, but she was nowhere to be seen. "I can carry Mara if you will carry my friend-mate," Alice suggested. "That sounds like a trick," I remarked. "She is still woozy, tick tick, and she will agree to behave. Carry her in your hands, like this, and she will not be able to bite you even should she want to." "Oh .. kaay .." I reluctantly agreed, as I tucked the pair of clippers into my Elfintory. "But first I want to secure my father's sarcophagus." I placed a few defensive wards on and around Gawain's tomb. I also considered camouflaging it, perhaps altering the inscription to make it harder to find, but the magick residing in the Hall of Ancestors would not allow that kind of tampering. 3Image: 0215careful Alice handed me the white Scuti, and scooped up Mara's semi-conscious body. I gripped the loathsome furry creature just behind its head, the way one would hold a poisonous snake, with my hands extended as far away from my body as I could reach. "Gently now, Your Highness," Alice admonished. "If you harm her, then I promise you will know what it means to have an enemy. Bzzt." (line) In the shadows: 4Image: 0208onlook "How interesting," Sir Ravenmad mused from his hiding place. "This seems to suggest that the fabled 'Sisterhood' does indeed exist .. and furthermore that the Prince, the Ixies, the Vulpitanian agent, and possibly the Scuti are all somehow associated with it. Yet they do not seem to be in accord. I wonder what motivates all these disparate factions. This could be the germ of my next great intricately plotted epic masterpiece... However, I came here seeking an altogether different form of diversion. Once they've left, I shall be able to visit the Coronation Chamber in privacy." ************************************************************ I wasn't sure exactly what would have been accomplished if the Scuti had been able to take control of me, but it certainly wouldn't have been good. I kept a respectful distance behind SALV Chetsweeks, holding the white Scuti as far from me as I could, so I could keep an eye on both of them. I glanced around for another ambush as we left the Hall of Ancestors and headed back into Albric Tor. My Ixies would have been especially useful right now, but I could see no trace of them. "Why would SALVs Nidab and Semos want me to be under Scuti influence?" I asked Alice. "They didn't, beep," the vixen explained. "I was ordered to collect a sample from King Gawain. The ambush was our own idea; nothing to do with the visiting SALVs." I was a little skeptical of this response, since I knew that the Scuti "rehabilitation" program had been a Vulpitanian idea, and why would they assign a white skunk-tail Scuti to an opossum? "And your intentions were..?" I prompted. "Do you really need an explanation of all the reasons why it would be advantageous to control an influential member of the ruling elite? Click?" "Well, what happens now?" I continued. "Tell me what exactly you want from me, and what you have to offer in return." "I want to be free of Vulpitanian control," Alice stated bluntly. "I want to keep the exquisite body they built for me, tick tick, without the obligation to follow their orders. I wish to be autonomous. I want you to help me defect from the Republic and grant me asylum here in the Empire. Protect me from my former bosses." "And what's in it for me?" I asked. "I shall serve you, bzzt. Not as a slave, but as an employee. I'll do your bidding - within reason. I am built to be useful in many kinds of circumstances. Click. Plus, I also have information. I can tell you about my Vulpitanian masters and their schemes." 1Image: 0222dreamy "And I'll serve you too," Mara murmured drowsily. "Preferably in a more intimate capacity, if you have any Floozie positions available." "Tsk, click," Alice sighed disapprovingly. "I fear you've ruined this body for my friend-mate." I could not conceal a bit of pride at the effectiveness of my Wiles on the opossum femme. 2Image: 0222ugh My smug reverie was interrupted by a soft chirruping from the Scuti in my hands. It wriggled lazily and leaned its head back to look at me. It grinned toothily and batted its little eyelashes. YECCCHH, what a disgusting little monster! I hurried back to my office with my group of unofficial captives. I carefully stuffed the Scuti into one of my desk drawers and locked it, while Alice deposited a still-drowsy Mara in my guest chair. 3Image: 0222avoreturns SALV Chetsweeks was standing by the doorway, doing something to her elbow, when Sgt. Avogadro arrived. He looked exhausted. "The disguise worked unreasonably well, Your Highness," he reported breathlessly. "As far as I can tell, everyone assumed I was you. I don't understand what I was doing, nor why it was necessary for me to wear a disguise, but I carried out your instructions and added the ingredients to the Vulpitanians' meals. I also discovered that you may be in danger from an assassination plot." "What makes you think that?" I asked, slightly alarmed. 4Image: 0222dagger "This," Avogadro answered as he turned around to show the hilt of a dagger stuck in his back. "FUMA'S MUSK!!" I exclaimed. "I didn't see who did it," Avogadro sighed. "They struck and were gone before I could turn around, but I can only assume they attacked because they thought I was you." *********************************************************** Somewhere Else: Image: 0222schpies The pale light from a scrying orb glinted off of two monocles. "Zo! You see, zis is vot it looks like ven a plan comes togezzer," the taller figure declared. "LOL," the smaller one replied. "But Auntie, the Scuti failed and the assassin struck the wrong target." "Did zey?" the taller figure asked cryptically. "Vell, just remember, liebchen, it is alvays best to have ein backup. Und, vhen Plan B fails zen zere is Plan C und Plan D, und zo on..." *********************************************************** 1Image: 0229helphelp "We've got to get him to the Herbalist Extraordinary right away!" I declared urgently. "Help me carry him!" "My arm is messed up, click," Alice explained. "I think carrying Mara did something to it. I can't bend my elbow." "MARA!" I yelled. "Get up and support the Sergeant under his other arm! We must get him to the Herbalist Extraordinary before it's too late! SALV Chetsweeks, you walk in front of us." "You don't trust me, beep?" Alice asked innocently. "Of course not," I replied. Mara sluggishly grabbed Avogadro's other arm and we all lurched out into the hallway. (line) In the desk drawer: 2Image: 0229drawer "I'm just inspecting them .. for His Highness .." the Ixie explained lamely as the white Scuti glared censoriously at her and the ancient Mephitist fertility totems which I had stashed in this drawer earlier. (line) Supported between Mara and me, Avogadro was able to stagger to the Herbalist Extraordinary's office. 3Image: 0229consultation "Hmm," Caravaggio muttered as he examined the dagger hilt sticking out of the Sergeant's back. "Dis looks pretty bad, all right. Does it hoit?" "Not as much as I would have expected," Avogadro wheezed. "Welp, I'm afraid I can't do nuttin for him," Caravaggio said with a shrug. "Fuma's grace!" I groaned. "How much time does he have?" "Dat, I couldn't say fer sure," Caravaggio shrugged again. "Couple a centuries maybe, if he eats right an' don't chase too many skoits." "What do you mean ...?" I asked, somewhat perplexed. "Ya see, da reason I can't do nuttin for him is because dis guy ain't wounded." The Herbalist pulled on the dagger and it came away from Avogadro's body with a sickening wet SHLURRRP. 4Image: 0228gagdagger "Dis here ain't nuttin but a cheap gag wit some tomata ketchup an' a simple Gramerye ta make it stick on." "VULPITANIAN!" I exclaimed, with a sudden realization. "Either that, bzzt, or someone who wanted to make it look like a Vulpitanian job," Alice pointed out. "We are going to have to investigate," I decided. "Since Sergeant Avogadro was disguised as me, clearly I was the intended target of this hit. If the assassin realizes his mistake, he might come back - or if not, he will surely move on to his next target, which could be ... anybody!" "Are you sure you didn't see or hear anything that could provide us a clue as to your attacker's identity?" I asked Avogadro. The mole shrugged and shook his head sadly. "Wait a second!" I exclaimed. "Where's your costume tail? Did the assassin take it?" "I couldn't say for certain, Your Highness," Avogadro stammered. "I'm sure I had it on before the attack, but I didn't really notice when it disappeared. They might have taken it, or it might have fallen off while I was struggling to get to your office afterward." "Go retrace your steps and see if you can find it," I ordered. "That thing wasn't easy to acquire. If it's missing, I want to know for sure whether it was taken or just lost - and if taken, then we can start working on figuring out why." Avogadro saluted and hurried out. I wondered where Meadow was and how she was doing. I certainly could have used her help right about now, but she was probably in the middle of an intense stakeout of the visiting Vulpitanians' quarters. Perhaps later I could mosey over that way and see if I could find her .. ******************************************************** 1Image: 0229hussymara My train of thought was completely derailed when Mara stuck her tongue in my ear. "Now that the emergency is over, my Prince," she purred, "it's time to unwind and relieve some stress, don't you think?" "Don't you think you're taking some undue liberties?" I replied. "I don't care," Mara chuckled. "I'm sticking to you like glue from now on. My Scuti made me feel placid and relaxed, but I've never felt anything as good as what you did back there in the Hall of Ancestors." "I can't watch this," Alice grumbled, followed by a strange gear-grinding noise. (line) Elsewhere: "Ach du lieber," the tall fox exclaimed as the image in the scrying orb flickered and turned to static. "Zat blasted device ist playink up again! Hermann! Turn up der lights! Ve vill conduct our business no lonker in der shadows! Vulpitania Vincit!" 2Image: 0229spider The lights came up. SALV Chesswick shook the scrying orb and scowled into it. "Vell, zis ting is all farshimmelt," she sighed. "I suppose ve vill have to contact Tech Zupport. Vhere is der manual?" "IDK, Auntie Alberta," SALV Silverbrush replied. (line) And in the desk drawer: 3Image: 0307wellusee "My father, the Prince, Adler Young, the one who stuffed thee in here," the Ixie in the drawer blustered nervously, "will surely be back any moment to deal with thee and retrieve these carvings..." 4Image: 0307eek "GYAAAH," the Ixie continued as the white Scuti languorously uncoiled itself. *********************************************************** Back at the Herbalist's office 1Image: 0307flatno I twisted my head around to glare at Mara. "NO," I told her, sternly. She simply snickered and nuzzled against my neck. "Your lips may say 'no' but my instincts say 'yes'," she murmured. 2Image: 0307malfunction "Hey youse guys," Caravaggio interrupted as he waved his hand in front of Alice's face. "So okay, da mole in da wig wasn't no medical emoigency, but dere is sometin definitely wrong wit dis broad. She seems ta be completely spaced-out, an I ain't never seen smoke come out of a elf's ears like dat before." "She's not a real elf," I explained. "She is actually an automaton piloted by a Scuti, and I guess her mechanical body must be malfunctioning." "Elves don't lie," Caravaggio shrugged. "Which is a good ting, because uddawise I wouldn't believe a woid of what youse just said." "Actually SALV Chetsweeks is under arrest pending her application for asylum," I added. "Could I trouble you to go fetch some guards to take her into custody?" "No trouble," the herbalist declared, and ambled out into the corridor. A thought suddenly occured to me. Now was as good a time as any to take advantage of Mara Supial's apparently friendly mood! "Say, Mara," I segued. "Who was it that hired you to kidnap me, back in Athstead when you first met Lemmy and me?" "They didn't hire me to kidnap you," Mara replied. "The job was to kill you. You're not still mad about that are you? I don't hold a grudge against you for surviving and getting me arrested and sentenced to a life married to a lunkhead like Lemmy, with a mind-controlling parasite latched onto my ass. My very luscious ass. Hint hint." "No, um, no hard feelings," I stammered. "But who hired you to do that job?" "I don't know. It was an anonymous hit. They sent one of those Ladybugs with instructions to make the deal. I was doing all right managing bandit gangs in Athsteadshire .. but the money she offered was too tempting. It was 'Payment Upon Completion' so of course I never got paid, and I never found out who the bug's boss was ..." "Huh," I remarked, slightly disturbed at the casual way Mara could talk about this while continuing to grope and cuddle me. "Do you mind letting go of me and sitting down over there?" "No," she replied, without loosening her grip. "Fine," I sighed. "In that case, hold me up so I don't fall while I try to get a reading from this dagger hilt." 3Image: 0307ahoof I grasped the object in my hand and went into a psychometric trance. I saw Caravaggio pulling the dagger off of Avogadro's back ... I got a sense of Avogadro's stumbling journey to my office from the scene of the attack ... I reached further back ... I got a glimpse of a hoof-hand holding the dagger, and beyond that .. nothing. Whoever attacked Sergeant Avogadro was skilled enough to cover their tracks by magickally erasing from the dagger's psychometric aura every trace of themselves and anything else from before the attack. Who had that kind of skill? Now I was even more worried than I had been before. (line) In another place: 4Image: 0307pat "Is this it, Auntie Alberta?" SALV Silverbrush asked as she hefted a large ream of papers. "Ya, dot looks like it," SALV Chesswick replied, patting the younger vixen on the head. "You are such ein goot, helpful kit! Zis is vhy you are your Sly Auntie's Little Valedictorian!" ******************************************************* Caravaggio returned to his office with two castle guards. "This vixen is under arrest," I informed them. "Charged with MEDDLING. She also seeks asylum from the Vulpitanian Republic. At the moment she's not functioning, so you will have to carry her to jail. Take care; she's very heavy. Also exercise caution, because her tail is a Scuti. Although it has promised not to attack, the creatures are about as trustworthy as lowfolk. Do not turn your back on it." The guards tipped Alice onto her side and carried her out of the room. I let out a small sigh of relief. There was one thing taken care of. Now ... I couldn't get loose from Mara's amorous embrace. Thinking about mushrooms wouldn't help, not while she was latched onto me. If I could get away for second, then you might be able to disappear, but otherwise I was unfortunately stuck with her. Caravaggio tried to help me pry her off, to no avail. "Dis beats anyting I ever seen," the turtle explained with a shrug. "Well I can't wait around any longer," I groaned in exasperation. "There's a plot afoot, and I think I need to advise my brother of the potential danger he might be in. Guess I'll just have to take Mara with me." I lurch-stumbled across the palace grounds while Mara clung to me, drunkenly giggling. 1Image: 0307sandwich Estmere was having dinner in the room he had designated "The Eatatorium." He looked up from his sandwich as I approached, and eyed Mara dubiously. "Dude," he exclaimed around a mouthful of bread and cheese. "What's this? I dunno about your tastes, Bro. I mean, yeah, at least she's taller than Meadow, and yeah she seems to be like totally into you, but MAN! A possum?? That's sick, dude. I'm tryin' to eat here! Come on! I don't even know how much lower you can get than this, dude. Maybe a reptile? Yeah, eww, GROSS. I swear Bro, if you ever come in here with a gator lady..." "No chance of that, Your Majesty," I sighed wearily. "Mara's attachment to me is due to an unfortunate chain of circumstances, and I have absolutely no interest in reptilian females. But I didn't come here to talk about my choices in venery partners .. which isn't what this is anyway, I'd like to point out. But anyway, what I'm trying to say is, there may be an assassin at large here in the palace." "Dude!" Estmere exclaimed. "What makes you think so?" "I sent an elf disguised as myself to run an errand, and while he was carrying out my orders somebody stabbed him in the back." "Whoah, DUDE! How's he holding up? Did you take him to Caravaggio right away?" "He's fine. It turned out to be a Vulpitanian joke dagger." "Um, Bro," Estmere sniffed with a disdainful look. "What makes you think this was an assassination attempt? If nobody was hurt, I mean .. it doesn't sound all that dangerous. Those Vulps love their pranks, everybody knows it." "Well, the thing is, the assassin probably thought they were attacking me," I pointed out. "And furthermore, it wasn't done by a Vulpitanian. I did some psychometry on the fake dagger, and whoever did it knew enough magick to completely remove every trace, except for the fact that they had HOOVES." "Well that really narrows it down," Estmere remarked sarcastically. "That's just the thing, Brother," I insisted. "I think this was done to send me a message. I think it was done to intimidate, to let me know that someone is lurking among us, someone with bad intentions. I do not trust the visiting Vulpitanians, and furthermore I feel I must tell you that there is a secret cabal of ..." 2Image: 0314lanaglare "DO NOT TELL THE KING ABOUT THE SISTERHOOD," Lana Lynne commanded via Elfmind. "I mean, there might be a conspiracy ..." I continued lamely, ".. of hoofed miscreants .." "And do you, like, have proof of this?" Estmere asked skeptically. "No," I admitted. "But it's highly likely." "We have the situation well in hand," Lana continued as she glared at me over her sandwich. "This so-called 'assassination' was not our doing. We shall look into it and find out the who and the why, and we will take whatever measures are necessary. We want the SALVs to complete their task, and we want you unharmed. If you wish to keep any of your friends safe, make sure they do not interfere with our plans. I'm thinking specifically about the mouse." "It would help if I knew what your plans are," I thought back. "Dude, are you okay?" Estmere asked. "All of a sudden you look ill." "Not here," Lana replied. "You obviously lack subtlety and there's too much of an audience. Lose the possum and meet Dodie - ALONE - in the Floozy Baths. I know you know where those are. She will answer all your questions." (line) In the Vulpitanians' quarters: 3Image: 0307sample "Ah, very good. Thank you," Rotnev Nidab grinned as he held out his hand to receive what the Ixie had brought. "A tuft of fur?" Nexivydah sneered as she looked up from her beakers and test tubes. "This sample is smaller and much dryer than what we asked for." "The vixen was apprehended, and this is all I had time to get," the Ixie replied tartly. "It will do," Rotnev assured her. "And it seems I was right to plan for a backup." "One point for you, dear," Nexivydah remarked sarcastically. "Now pay the creature and let's finish this step of the process. Our supper will have gotten completely cold by now." (line) Somewhere else: 4Image: 0314readmanual "First ve must find der Reset Svitch," SALV Chesswick muttered as she read from the manual. "Auntie, just FYI we need to actually have the automaton B4 we can do any work on it," SALV Silverbrush reminded her. ******************************************************* Outside, on the street: Image: 0314family "Don't worry your pretty head, macushla," Estvan cackled. "Sure and it's this time we'll be gettin' to visit with our own dear daughter for certain." "But Pookie," Yolanda interjected. "Aren't you forgetting the restraining order?" "Tush! That only applies on Vulpitanian territory. When she leaves the Embassy, it's in the Mephitist Empire she'll be, and sure and that's when we'll see her - and I've a feelin' it'll be soon, me pet. SOON." ************************************************************ As I excused myself from the Eatatorium and dragged Mara along with me down the hall, I had an interesting idea. I didn't think I would be able to put it into practice, because I hadn't observed Scuti closely enough to be able to transmogrify myself into one. Plus, the idea of biting a person at the base of their spine and latching onto their rear end sounded EXTREMELY unappealing. But, I couldn't help but wonder .. when a Scuti possessed a victim, did the Scuti become privy to everything its host knew? There was a pair of Scuti I was on semi-speaking-terms with now. Maybe I could ask them. 1Image: 0314gotloose Anyway, the transmogrification idea was inherently a good one, so I shifted into my Ixie form. It seemed to get easier every time I did it! "HEY!" Mara screeched. "NO FAIR! Without your sensual influence, I'm gonna turn back to a life of crime!" "I need to take care of some business. Alone," I informed her as I flitted about, dodging her attempts to grab me. "Return to my office and wait for me. If I find you there when I return, then I will use my, er, Magick Touch on you." "Reward for good behavior, eh?" Mara replied dubiously. "Okay. Elves don't lie, so I'm gonna hold you to it!" I buzzed away toward the Baths as Mara turned and trudged toward my office. 2Image: 0314bathdodie I found Minister Dodie O'Doe relaxing in a corner of the Caldarium in the Floozy Baths. The normally busy room was completely empty except for her and myself. "So, Lana decided it's Need-to-Know time, huh?" Dodie sniffed. "It's probably safer at this point to keep you in the loop. At least that way you can't accidentally foul up our plans. Well then, what do you want to know?" (line) At the Detention Center: 3Image: 0314jar SALV Alberta Chesswick debated heatedly with the guards. "I don't care whezzer zat creature vants to defect from der Republic," she barked. "It is ein prisoner by its own volition. Keep it as long as you like until der issue is sorted out. BUT der mechanical vixen is Vulpitanian property und I vant it returned AT VONCE!" (line) In my office: 4Image: 0314smolder Agent Bonsai nervously observed sounds of a scuffle, followed by wisps of smoke rising from the desk drawer. ************************************************************** 1Image: 0321smokealarm Mara Supial returned to my office to behold wisps of smoke rising from my desk! Mara was not especially fluent in the Voice of the Forest, but she got a sense of anxiety being transmitted from Agent Bonsai. She tensed up and glowered apprehensively at the smoke. (line) In the Floozy Baths: 2Image: 0321explain "What exactly are the Sisterhood's goals as they pertain to Estmere and myself?" I asked. "We intend to prevent the King from siring an heir," Dodie replied coolly, "so that when he vacates the throne, you can take his place. Faerie needs to be ruled by a true scion of Irenaeus." "What exactly does vacating the throne entail?" I inquired suspiciously. "Fuma will gather the King into Her Embrace when the proper time comes." "The 'proper time' for Estmere's Embrace wouldn't happen to be determined by the whim of the Sisterhood, would it?" I asked sternly. "Assassination is so inelegant," Dodie sniffed disdainfully. "We wouldn't resort to that unless we were desperate. And we're not desperate." "Were you desperate twenty years ago when my father, Gawain, was poisoned?" I retorted. "An eighteen-year delayed poison is hardly a weapon of desperation," Dodie smirked. "However, that was not done by us. Gawain had many enemies." "Someone in the F.E.L.F. perhaps?" I guessed. "Can you honestly tell me the Sisterhood had no connection with them?" "We partner with various entities and organizations when their goals align with ours. Favors are traded for favors. We can hardly be blamed for their occasional lack of decorum. All that mattered to us at the time was that the Ferifax Arch be destroyed before you or Zandar could pass through it. We needed you kept pure." "I was almost killed by Vulpitanians! TWICE!" I exclaimed. "Almost," Dodie pointed out. "But they failed. And were dealt with appropriately." "Alice Chetsweeks is still a free vixen. How is that 'dealt with' exactly?" I fumed. "Has she tried to kill you recently?" Dodie asked rhetorically. I was a bit disturbed by the casual way Secretary O'Doe could talk about all of this. Was my brother in real, immediate danger or not? On his deathbed my father did, after all, command me to protect Estmere... "Okay, I get that you've manipulated Estmere into liking only ungulates, so he can't produce an heir," I theorized. "So then what are SALVs Nidab and Semos doing here? Surely their work is not directed toward letting Estmere live out his natural span?" "We may not have time to wait," Dodie noted grimly. "Gaps are multiplying and Faerie is falling apart. The Vulpitanians are here ostensibly in answer to the popular demand that the King sire an heir - which if he were truly a proper elfin king, might heal the realm. However, if Estmere's tainted lineage continues, it will spell the doom of the Mephitist Empire. The two SALVs are completing the work of genealogical sabotage which Egdelwon Klive began two generations ago. If their scheme works, it will re-write Estmere's parentage and unmake his claim to the throne." "Won't it affect me the same way?" I asked. "No, because you are a full-blooded elf. Estmere's mother was a Crossling from the Ferifax Arch, making him vulnerable to this process." "Why would the Vulpitanians do this?" I demanded. "They don't seem all that interested in the Imperial succession; in fact I get the impression that they would prefer to completely overthrow the Irenaeid dynasty so they can proclaim Vulpitanian independence." "That's what they think they are doing. This is precisely what makes them so easy to manipulate," Dodie answered smugly. "Vulpitanians love meddling and scheming. Give them a chance to do some sabotage, make it as cloak-and-dagger as you can, throw in a little bit of financial reward, and you'll have them practically eating out of your hand." "Can you honestly say that your plans are going to facilitate the restoration of Faerie and the correction of Fuma's Mistake?" I inquired. "Our success will absolutely restore the realm of Faerie," Dodie affirmed. "I'm not sure what you mean about Fuma's Mistake, but if that is the Church's present anti-magickal policy, then when you are Emperor you will be empowered to change that." "It's getting late," Dodie observed. "We'd better wrap this up. Is there anything else you want to know?" "Where is my mother?" I asked. "I'm not sure who would know the specific answer to that," Dodie sighed. "Mavis took her 'disappearing' very seriously, with the idea that if nobody knows where she is, then nobody can tell anybody where she is. The only information the Sisterhood has is this: She went into the Lowfolk world." (line) In another place: 3Image: 0321ohauntie "O YEA!" SALV Silverbrush squealed with delight as she managed to get an image to come in on the scrying orb. "I HAXX at teh scry tech!" The orb showed a strangely skewed view of the Detention Center. SALV Chesswick and one of the guards were visible, where they were presumably standing over Alice Chetsweeks' mechanical body. "It's not my call, lady," the guard was insisting, with the lazy insolence of a low-ranking lackey. "We were told to keep this thing here, and the orders come from a higher authority than you. So if you want to collect your so-called 'property' you're gonna need to get a duly authorized requisition from the Right Hand of the King." "Oh Auntie," SALV Silverbrush groaned as she stared into the orb. "Pwned by an Imperial amateur! He's giving you teh old Bureaucratic Runaround! Oldest trick in teh book! How could you let him do that 2 U??" (line) In my office: Mara crept cautiously around behind the desk, and yanked the drawer open. 4Image: 0321ghastly The possum jumped back in horror as a few of my (badly weakened) security wards flared up, and a hideous half-singed creature lunged out of the drawer! The Ixie dangled like a gruesome puppet at the end of the Scuti's snout. "Help me, Mara!" the Ixie squeaked, waving her arms spasmodically. "The Prince locked me in here with this maniacal insectoid who tried to burn half of my fur off, and she's got to be the least suitable host I've ever encountered! You're so perfect Mara, please let me ride you again! Just for a little while? I promise I'll let you do whatever you want, and you won't even notice I'm there." 5Image: 0321verederhand Scuti, Ixie, and Mara all turned to look as SALV Chesswick leaned into the office doorway. "Vhich von of you jokers is der Hand of der King?" she demanded angrily. (This was the last episode posted before the MSPA Forums crashed. Next post is the new episode which I had prepared that week.) **************************************************** After the interview with Dodie O'Doe was over, I snuck out of the Floozy Baths. I was sorely tempted to stay in my fake-Ixie form to snoop and let off some steam by playing pranks around the Palace, but this was no time for silly japery. The information I had just received was weighing heavily on my mind. I probably should return to my office. I transmogrified back into my true Elfly form and trudged wearily in that direction. As I walked, I sighed heavily and pondered the current situation. Much against my will, it seemed that the Sisterhood had involved me at the heart of a treasonous plot to overthrow the rightful King. Their argument that Estmere was not really the rightful King of Faerie sounded only half-plausible ... Elves do not lie, so it must be true ... but still I didn't feel entirely convinced. If only it were possible to solve this problem with simple, straightforward Magicks .. but if it were, then surely I - or someone - would have done so by now. If only I knew where Estvan Silverbrush was at the moment. He would know whether something like this had any chance of working, and he would have the power to pull it off, too. Even if I agreed with the Sisterhood's goals and opinions (which I didn't .. not completely) it seemed extremely chancy to rely on Vulpitanians as such a key component of the plan. The foxes would ever have their own secret agenda, and it seemed clear to me that they could not be trusted. I briefly indulged in fantasies of skipping out of town and leaving this whole mess behind. As justification for these thoughts, I wondered about the possibility of mass evacuation of Albric Tor. Such action wouldn't really be necessary though - not unless Winter were to come unexpectedly. 1Image: 0328hethehand I arrived at my office to behold Ambassador Chesswick glowering at me, and Mara pointing at me casually. "There's the Hand of the King," Mara said. "Right there. Him." "I need ein reqvisition form to get some Vulpitanian property out of detention," SALV Chesswick informed me. "All right, all right," I grumbled as I circled around my desk. 2Image: 0328aghast I leaned over to open a desk drawer when I noticed one of my Ixies standing there, with a huge fluffy white ... tail?? ... attached to her tiny derriere. "GREAT FUMA'S WHISKERS!" I exclaimed, as the horror of what I was seeing sank in. "What have you done to that poor Ixie?? Release her at once!" The Ixie merely stood in a sassy posture, stuck out her tongue, and blew a tiny, high-pitched raspberry in my direction. "The same rude and insolent creature as ever," Mara remarked. "It ought to be ashamed, but I can assure you, it isn't." 3image: 0328ohsister "GREAT AUK AND MIGHTY TEG!!!" she continued, aloud, upon seeing her sister ensconced on the Scuti's snout. 4Image: 0328vengeance The second Ixie attacked the Scuti with crackling electrical Magick, whereupon it released the first Ixie. The two of them then started buzzing angrily around the fluffy creature, zapping it mercilessly while it cringed on the desktop and emitted a miserable high-pitched keening sound. "HEY!" I shouted. "STOP THAT! I need the Scuti unharmed! QUIT IT! There will be unpleasant repercussions if you don't knock it off!! CEASE! DESIST! That's an order!" The Ixies flitted out the window, leaving the Scuti on my desk. Grayish smoke rose from its fur. I assumed it was still alive because it was emitting ragged, wheezing breaths. I was tempted to examine it but I wouldn't have known what to look for. 5Image: 0328papersplz "Ahem," SALV Chesswick coughed, stepping forward with her hand outstretched. "Der papers, please." "Mmmrrr," Mara purred, nuzzling up next to me. "Time to give me the reward you promised, since I was a good girl and came straight back here to your office." *********** (This was where the MSPA Forums crashed in March 2016. I spent all summer reconstructing it on Tumblr, and when the recap reached this point, I started running the Ballad properly again on Eagle Time Forums, using Tumblr as a mirror with reader comments removed. If this text file is well-received, and if there is demand enough to justify doing the work, I'll compile the posts from that point up til the "now" of whenever I finish doing that into another large digest like this. THOSE episodes at least, I *do* have archived.)