Before the gnome lost his temper completely everyone had a moment in which they all believed that the wish would end. Lester, in fact, was pulling for this to happen almost as much as he imagined the gnome was. Once the gnome was free then he could spend the rest of the afternoon trying to find his brother's grave.
The idea of being keen to find the grave of his beloved sibling was not sitting well in Lester's head. It was almost impossible to separate the notion of someone having a grave from the notion of someone being, well, dead. Whenever that particularly unpleasant idea came around on the carousel of Lester's thoughts he reminded himself of what a remarkable and tricksy individual Chester Topping was. Lester wouldn't show much surprise if this whole thing hadn't been cooked up by Chester and Loki working in tandem.
Still, a gravestone. Surely even having a gravestone was an ill-omen. It might not be alchemy but it was certainly witchcraft.
"Oh... bother it!" the gnome cried eventually. The little sprite ran up to the base of the skull rock and gave it a hearty kick. "Owww!" the gnome cried. "That hurt."
"Kicking a gigantic rock generally hurts," Eos said. "That's why it never took off as a pastime."
"I should be free!" the gnome shouted. "This is it, the loop is closed, the journey is ended, the adventure has concluded, so why can I still feel the wish? Why am I flopping around, bound to the people who freed me? Why am I not allowed to make my own way in the world?"
"It would seem," said Rebecca gently, "that we may have misread the small print, so to speak."
"No!" the gnome replied. "No! I reject that completely, utterly, the terms of the wish were quite plain. Rachel wanted to leave the Skull Garden so that they could go on an adventure and he could see all that the world could be. That's what she said. Now I am aware that the phrase 'see all that the world could be' does leave some room for interpretation but the powers of mischief are not usually that particular."
"Not usually," said Rebecca, "but sometimes, sometimes there is something that they are waiting for, something that will just cross the last 't' or dot the last 'i'."
"Maybe," Lester said, without really knowing which part of his mind was providing the words, "the term used is tied to something James should see. Maybe when James feels that he knows all that he needs to know then he will have seen all that the world can see."
Everyone was looking at Lester. The gnome scowled.
"That," he said, "sounds exactly like the kind of stunt the forces of mischief like to pull." The gnome swivelled his eyes to fix on James, quiet now, still not as steady on his feet as he should be. "So what is it that you feel you're missing out on?" it asked. "Come on now, out with it, let's show you what you need to see so I can clock off."
"I... I don't know," James said.
"You have to know!" the gnome wailed. "Folk. Honestly, I am going off the lot of you. Born as babies, dying arbitrarily, don't know what you want, or where you're going, or how you feel. Why is the world filled with folk?
"Sprites are nice and simple. Pop into existence, do what you do, go where you have to, and then just fade away once your time is done. Why can't folk be more like sprites."
The gnome tramped over to the foot of the Skull Rock and sat down, defeated.
"I'm sorry," James called after him. "I just don't know."
"It's okay," Rebecca said, putting her hand on her husband's shoulder. "You're still confused. Take a moment, take a breath, let the thing you want come to your mind naturally."
James closed his eyes and took a breath. Another few moments passed.
Maybe James wants to know what happened to my brother, Lester thought. He banished the thought immediately as being inherently selfish.
"Maybe," Rachel said. "Dad just wants to know what happened to Lester's brother. I know I do, and dad's been travelling with Lester since we first popped into the market."
Lester held his breath while the others weighed up this suggestion in their minds.
"It can't hurt to find out, can it?" Eos asked.
Lester felt a sudden flip in his guts, like his stomach was trying to pop out of his mouth and run away. They were going to search, it was finally time to search.
"There's only one problem with that plan," James said. "The area we refer to as the Skull Garden is all of the jungle as far as we can walk by day and still be back here by night. If you expand that line so it becomes the radius of a circle and then plot out the area of that circle... I mean, we could be months searching for this grave, if it's even here."
This pessimistic, but unfortunately rational, appraisal of the situation was interrupted by the flopping noise of a rope hitting the side of the Skull Rock.
"Hello!" cried a voice from above.
The unhappy party at the foot turned their gaze upwards to see who had hailed them.
"Frederick!" James called out. "What are you doing here?"
"Oh you know," Frederick replied. "The usual kind of thing, killing giant bats, rescuing princesses trapped inside a crystal along with an entire lost continent, taking in the afternoon air."
Following Frederick down the rope was Phoebe, and above her a young boy that Lester didn't recognise. Above the boy was another young woman that Lester thought he didn't recognise, then from other angles he thought he did.
The four adventurers reached the ground and a general round of greetings and introductions was carried out. Lester was introduced, firstly, to the small boy whose name was Wish Forbetter and then to the mysterious young woman.
"Hello Lester," the young woman said. "How are things?"
Not being the kind of opening one might expect from someone you had never met before Lester was rendered momentarily speechless.
"Found yourself lost in any sorcerer's dungeons recently?" the young woman asked. "James is looking well, distinctly less mousey than the last time we met."
She followed the comment up with a cheeky grin that Lester couldn't help but recognise. He went instantly from speechless to gaping. Eventually he found his tongue:
"Anabyl?" he asked.
"Took you long enough," she said. "Although I have to concede that some water has passed under the bridge since last time I saw you."
"But... you're here, in the Skull Garden and, I mean, what happened?" Lester asked.
"It's a long story, I travelled with Avan Weatherstrong, escaped the Vanishing, trained as a dragon warrior and helped protect the quintessence crystal from evil-doers who wanted to possess its power," Anabyl said. "It was an interesting time. What have you been up to?"
"Um, went to an evil masked ball, then I was chased down a mountain by a troll, got lost in the Undone, helped rescue a mermaid from a witch and now I'm looking for my twin's grave, here in the garden.... my twin's grave... is," Lester managed to recount his recent history, just about.
He couldn't help but note that the full catalogue of events sounded, maybe, more impressive than he'd imagined. This was a thing about adventure, at the time you were just scrambling desperately to survive, only afterwards did you realise that, having survived, your exploits had graduated from terrifying to exciting.
"Sounds like you've kept busy," Anabyl said. "How are you planning to find your brother's grave?"
"Well," Lester sighed. "That's kind of the thing. You see we have no idea where it is, and James was just pointing out how large the garden actually is. If we stay here too long then we will start to forget who we are, or why we came here in the first place. So we need to find the grave before that happens obviously. It could take a long while. Maybe we could think about shift work or something, but I bet the gnome won't be too happy about that."
"Why would the gnome care?" Anabyl asked.
"We think he might not be able to become a full gnome until James sees Chester's grave. It's a wish magic thing," Lester explained.
"Well," Anabyl said, "If I remember correctly you and Chester are twins, are you not?"
"Yes," Lester said. "We are."
"Well, then, maybe in the matter of choosing a grave-site you both think alike, it's worth a try," Anabyl said. "I've got lucky like that on more than one occasion."
This suggestion appeared to Lester to be far too sensible a one to actually work but, because it was so sensible, it was also mandatory to give it a go.
"Okay," Lester said. "Let's have a think. Well, first of all, if I were Chester the whole point of this grave is to hide it so that only I can find it."
That didn't immediately make Lester think of a location. After all, Lester had to admit, he wasn't the most imaginative of people. If he'd have come to this place alone, seeing the gigantic stone column with a skull on the top at the centre, he probably would have headed straight for that. Here they were, for other reasons, there was no grave.
Of course, the idea of putting the grave here did not exactly make it hidden. Unless, of course, the grave was unmarked. If that were the case then it would probably be somewhere here, under the column. In which case, there would probably be some sort of indicator that only Lester would understand, probably on the column, at the bottom.
Lester stalked around the base of the column, searching for something, anything. It didn't take him long to find it. There was an arrow carved into the stone, it pointed North, you could tell because it said 'N' at the top of it. Underneath was the number '58'.
"Here!" Lester said, excitedly.
The others came to join him.
"What does that mean?" the gnome asked.
"It's the orientation course," Rachel said. "I followed it a few times, started really early in the morning. I don't know how far I got. You walk in the direction of the line for that many paces and you reach another rock with another arrow and another number. I got about forty of them before I had to come back, because of the bat."
"But now the bat is dead," Frederick said. "So we can just follow the arrows to the end."
Everyone seemed very excited at this prospect and preparations immediately got underway to start the course. Lester was happy with the explanation but something still seemed off to him. After all, Chester could not know that the bat would be dead when Lester got there.
Chester had to have thought this through. Why would Chester send Lester off running around in the woods like that? For a start Chester and Lester both had one leg longer than the other. They couldn't easily walk in straight lines, they always veered off to the right. Something was wrong with this.
It was only as the party got ready to stamp off north for fifty-eight paces that Lester thought he understood what it was Chester had done.
"Stop!" he cried out before anyone had taken more than two paces north.
Everyone stopped. Lester's heart was beating in his throat at the idea that for once he had worked something out. He was the one with the answer, he was not just some oddball standing on the edges. For the first time since he had started his quest Lester felt like he might have the makings of a hero.
"We shouldn't go," he said. "It's a trap."
"What do you mean?" Rebecca asked. "What kind of a trap?"
"We lived in the garden for years and years," James said. "We never found a trap."
"No," Lester said. "But you did completely forget who you were, or why you were here."
"So?" Rachel asked.
"Think about it," Lester explained. "Someone evil comes here, they find the course, they kill the bat. The bat killing, in particular, is something I don't think I could do. But the evil person they have no problem with it. So they follow the path. Eventually the path is so long they have to rest. So they rest. Then they keep following the path.
"At first they accept the difficulty of the task, after all if Chester's grave was easy to find then it wouldn't be a challenge. Eventually they get annoyed, maybe they give up. If they don't, one day they wake up and, maybe, they can't remember exactly why, but they know they're following the arrows. So they go further.
"Now remembering things gets harder, they can't remember if they've seen arrows before. Eventually they either forget who they are give up and wander away or they keep mindlessly walking in circles lost in a labyrinth of arrows and pacing until they die.
"The whole task is a trap. Chester knew I would know that because the apparent simple task is one that both he and I would be singularly awful at if we were on our own."
"So, what does that mean?" James asked. "That we don't know where the grave is after all?"
"No," Lester said. "It means we know exactly where the grave is, because we're standing on it. The other thing Chester and I have in common is that we're very very lazy. The marker doesn't tell me to go tramping about in the forgetful forest. No, what it says to me is, Chester made a mark, so there must be something here worth marking."
Frederick ruffled in his pack and brought out a small collapsible spade.
"Only one way we're going to see if he's right," Frederick said. "I'll get digging."
Nobody said much as Frederick found a piece of earth that was soft enough and dug straight down. The hole went deeper than a regular grave but after about forty minutes he hit something solid.
"Oh, wow," Frederick said. "That's deep. We could be here until nightfall."
"Oh, no, Frederick," Phoebe said. "Come out of that hole. I think I can help."
"No offence," Lester said. "But I've seen how you help, I don't want to cremate my brother's remains in a massive plasma explosion, I just want to uncover the grave."
"I think I might be of assistance here," the gnome said, rather unexpectedly. He looked about at everyone regarding him, surprised expressions on their faces, and his brow knitted in annoyance. "I'm a gnome people, a gnome? Earth elemental? Really, and I thought you were an educated woman Miss September."
Phobe looked a bit awkward, she had spent many years in Faerie's premier magical academy.
"I just didn't really think about it," she said by way of explanation.
"Why didn't you mention this half an hour ago?" Frederick asked, still sweating from his own exertions.
"I didn't know whether you would find anything," the gnome grumbled. "Not going to put my back out blasting away a big hole in the earth for no reason, now, am I?"
The logic, irritating as it might have been, was irrefutable. The others all stood back and gave the gnome room to work. With very little effort the sprite shifted all of the earth from Chester's grave and even landscaped the surroundings into a sweeping natural curve.
The grave stone was about eight feet long and three feet wide. In the centre of the slab was carved an ornate embossed hourglass, the carving, elegantly swirled around this central motif outwards to a geometric frame about half an inch in around the edge of the stone.
"That doesn't look like it's going to be fun to move," Anabyl said.
"Ah," Lester said. "But you're failing to take into account that this place was designed to be uncovered by a single lazy man with a spade and a couple of days to spare. By the time I'd got down to this on my own I imagine I would be so tired I'd probably just take my spade and have a good old lean, like this."
Lester grabbed Frederick's spade, walked into the middle of the slab and placed it point down on the hour glass. He leaned on the handle and there was a deep and audible click as some hidden mechanism was pressed into service.
The two halves of the grave stone separated along invisible seams and lifted gently upwards to reveal the contents of Chester's tomb. But what was beneath the gravestone and how it brought our friend's adventures to a satisfactory, if not permanent, conclusion, is most definitely a story that I will tell you. Just, not right now is all.
Showing posts with label Gnome. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Gnome. Show all posts
Sunday, 22 December 2013
Sunday, 8 December 2013
Meet The Rummages
"Delighted for you," said the gnome. "Couldn't be more so. Absolutely. Delighted. However, I do feel that the full spectrum of experience associated with the word 'adventure' has now been thoroughly fulfilled. I don't want to appear rude but I have a whole existence to be getting on with. There's a meadow in a quaint little shadow not too far away by bridge and I would very much like to live my life there starting, oh, well, as soon as possible."
"I don't think now is the time, honestly," Eos said. "Can't you see that James is unwell?"
"Unwell?" the gnome said as if he honestly hadn't noticed. The little sprite turned his attention to the former mouse, now a tall man hunched over and sitting on a tea chest being fussed over by Rachel and Rebecca. Lester watched on, not really certain what to think.
"Then there was a morning in winter, my mother had a cold," James said. His words floated up from his chest through the arms he had folded on his knees. His head was buried in this little cocoon, his words having the lilt of delirium. "Porridge on the hob, good boy, helpful boy, porridge is easy. Burned so badly to the bottom of the pan mum had to throw it out. Scrap metal for the scrap metal man. Lots you can do with scrap. Got to be able to melt it, to shape it. Not my department. Call an engineer!"
"He'll be fine," the gnome said. "I have a good ear for mischief. Whatever's happening I think it's temporary."
"You know what's wrong with him?" Rachel asked, turning her full attention in his direction.
Although the gnome had wanted Rachel's whole attention, and everyone else's, not moments ago, now it looked extremely uncomfortable. No doubt it would have been fine to have everyone looking in the gnome's direction to discuss the gnome's requirements and demands. The probem here was that now the gnome had cast himself in the role of advisor, such a role stood in the way of attention to requirements and demands.
Lester had to admit that he could understand that feeling completely. He was awash with unsuitable emotions at the moment. Fear of abandonment, sadness at the meandering aimlessness of his journey, irritation that he had spent so long on a road that provided no more than a diversion from Lester's own concerns, guilt that he felt anything other than concern about James's well-being.
Maybe if he could work his way up to a good session of delirious ranting he would be okay afterwards, Lester reflected. There didn't appear to be any other appropriate way of communicating his own feelings of loss that didn't seem self-indulgent and whiny.
Not that he would have had a problem with being self-indulgent and whiny if that had been a layer in a complex personality, but it wasn't. Lester was beginning to realise that when it came to personality self-indulgent and whiny pretty much summed him up. Oh, and meek, and directionless, and not much use.
Look at the gnome. On the one hand it was here demanding stuff when another person was in dire straits not five feet away. The sprite somehow managed to act as if it was oblivious to this while stamping its foot and carrying on like it was the only being that mattered in the whole of Faerie. On the other hand at least the gnome had some sort of motivational through-line. At least it was a force to be reckoned with.
Lester stood in the corner and didn't know what to think and tried not to be any bother. At least he wasn't any bother. At the same time he was becoming extremely tired of not being any use, either. His head was actually starting to throb at the concept of his own complete irrelevance to everything. On his travels he had met knights and magicians, merchants and royalty, what had he ever been through any of it? He had been Lester who could lend a hand with anything not too difficult.
Lester promised himself that as soon as equilbrium was restored he would rock the boat a bit, he would upset the apple cart. He would make his presence felt. Not so felt that people lost their tempers or anything, just felt enough to make Lester feel less on the edges of everything.
"Uh, well," the gnome said. Lester marvelled that he'd managed to fit all that thinking into the space between the gnome becoming awkward and deciding what to say next. "I can see that a lot of what's happened to James... ah, your father, is as a result of mischief casually melting away some deeper enchantments."
"What do you mean 'deeper enchantments'?" Rachel asked.
"Anything mischievous, I can detect," the gnome said. Although it was plain that there would be a time to talk further on the gnome's wish list, for now he was relishing the role of 'expert'. "But I couldn't tell that your dad was enchanted, not when we first met, he just looked like a mouse. A normal mouse. Oh, yes, he could talk, but that isn't such a big deal, you know."
"So what does that mean?" Rachel asked.
"It means that the magic that transformed James into the mouse was very complex and meant to bind. I'm not entirely sure that he was supposed to forget that he was a man, or your dad, or whatever, but I think that's a separate enchantment, after all, you don't remember much about before being in the Skull Garden either, do you?"
"No," Rachel said. "Honestly, I still don't."
"When we took you there," Rebecca said. "You were very young, I wouldn't be at all surprised if you didn't remember what happened before. I forgot everything while I was in the garden too. I only began to remember when I left, and then, well, I got dispersed."
"So you see," the gnome said, inserting himself back into the conversation, determined to monopolise everyone's attention. "The effects of the garden are slow and deep, but not permanent. I wouldn't advise anyone to remain there for too long, could get tricky."
"So how long before Ja- my dad, is back to normal?" Rachel asked.
The gnome got half way into a shrug before James himself broke into the conversation:
"They were all in the castle when the storm came!" he said. "There was the dragon and the frog. They weren't alone. They thought they were. But the mouse was careful. It stayed out of sight. Mice can hide, best hide, best way to stay out of the way. Not like the man who went to see the master of mischief, no. Desperate man, clever man, but desperate, confused. Needed to find his brother, needed to find a way to his brother, not just a disguise you see... really. Because you can't have two mice. Don't you see? Two mice are always bad. Two bad mice."
James looked around at the assembled group, who were all still trying to unravel this stilted dialogue. All except for Lester.
In the couple of seconds it usually took him to lose the initiative Lester realised that no-one had said anything, further, he realised that he had something to say.
"Are you telling me that I went to the master of mischief?" he asked James.
James's glowing, beatific expression dropped into one of deep disappointment.
"That's what you took from that?" he asked.
"It's me, isn't it? You're not the only one who's had their memory messed with," Lester said. "I am looking for my brother and... the man in the tall hat, he is the master of mischief."
"Oh, yes," the gnome chipped in. "That's the boss, Loki, everyone knows that."
Everyone looked at the gnome.
"Well," the gnome corrected himself, gruffly. "I thought everyone knew that."
"It has to be said," Eos said. "I'm sure there are lots of people who have looked for a missing brother through history. I heard a story myself about a man who went to Loki asking for help with a missing brother. I heard it when I was a girl. That story obviously isn't about you, Lester."
"And in the story," Lester asked Eos, feeling more purpose than he could ever remember having felt before. "What did the master of mischief tell the man to do?"
"Loki sent the man to death's garden with a spade. When he dug the ground he found all of his brother's secrets. I always thought it was a metaphor."
"Are you saying you think my brother is dead?" Lester asked.
"I'm saying that I think the brother of the man in the story was dead," Eos said. "We've already established that it wasn't you."
Lester's scalp had started to tingle as all the elements came together: frequent encounters with the master of Mischief, adventuring with escapees from the garden of death, stories about secrets buried in that garden. It didn't really matter what Eos said, Lester knew what he felt about his recent experiences. Everything was just beginning to make sense and Lester wasn't going to let that stop.
"We need to go to the Skull Garden, right now," Lester said.
"Oh, at last, thank you!" the gnome cried in agreement.
"Lester..." Eos said, the first chiming note of dissent.
"No, Eos," Lester said. "I know what I feel, for once, and what I feel is that my brother is in the Skull Garden."
"If he is then, surely, he's dead," Eos said. "Do you believe that Lester?"
"If he's dead then that's what he is," Lester said. "But if I've learned one thing about Chester these last few months it's that he is a man who is rarely where you thought he was and seldom what he seems."
"I know a way," Rebecca said. "But... should we all go?"
"You have to all go," the gnome said. "I need you there, so I can be free."
"Well, technically that's just me and dad," Rachel said, the little pause where she changed 'James' to 'dad' still noticeable but less so than it had been.
"You don't understand," Rebecca said. "We might forget who we are, that's what the Skull Garden does."
"It's a powerful magic," the gnome said. "But it is built to endure. It would take weeks, maybe months to forget everything completely. You can go long enough to set me free, then you can leave."
"But we never could," Rachel said. "You could not reach the edge before the bat would leave the Skull Cave, it would get us all."
"We can fend off a single bat," Lester said.
"It's a giant bat," Rachel pointed out.
"We've done it before," Lester insisted.
"I think you'll find that was Frederick," Eos said.
"So. What?" Lester asked. "We're going to all just give up? The gnome is enslaved to this wish forever? I never find out what happened to my brother?"
"Now hang on just a minute!" the gnome cried out, anxious at the possibility of never being the master of his own destiny.
"I can get us out," Rebecca said. "I got out before, but I'm worried about James. He hasn't recovered from leaving the garden yet. I think it's the mouse enchantment, he's so confused."
"I think," Eos said. "That we shall have to wait until James is maybe a little better, but at that point we shall ask Rebecca to take us to the garden and then we shall see what is what."
And that is exactly what they did, but what they found when they returned to the Skull Garden for the very last time is a story for another day.
"I don't think now is the time, honestly," Eos said. "Can't you see that James is unwell?"
"Unwell?" the gnome said as if he honestly hadn't noticed. The little sprite turned his attention to the former mouse, now a tall man hunched over and sitting on a tea chest being fussed over by Rachel and Rebecca. Lester watched on, not really certain what to think.
"Then there was a morning in winter, my mother had a cold," James said. His words floated up from his chest through the arms he had folded on his knees. His head was buried in this little cocoon, his words having the lilt of delirium. "Porridge on the hob, good boy, helpful boy, porridge is easy. Burned so badly to the bottom of the pan mum had to throw it out. Scrap metal for the scrap metal man. Lots you can do with scrap. Got to be able to melt it, to shape it. Not my department. Call an engineer!"
"He'll be fine," the gnome said. "I have a good ear for mischief. Whatever's happening I think it's temporary."
"You know what's wrong with him?" Rachel asked, turning her full attention in his direction.
Although the gnome had wanted Rachel's whole attention, and everyone else's, not moments ago, now it looked extremely uncomfortable. No doubt it would have been fine to have everyone looking in the gnome's direction to discuss the gnome's requirements and demands. The probem here was that now the gnome had cast himself in the role of advisor, such a role stood in the way of attention to requirements and demands.
Lester had to admit that he could understand that feeling completely. He was awash with unsuitable emotions at the moment. Fear of abandonment, sadness at the meandering aimlessness of his journey, irritation that he had spent so long on a road that provided no more than a diversion from Lester's own concerns, guilt that he felt anything other than concern about James's well-being.
Maybe if he could work his way up to a good session of delirious ranting he would be okay afterwards, Lester reflected. There didn't appear to be any other appropriate way of communicating his own feelings of loss that didn't seem self-indulgent and whiny.
Not that he would have had a problem with being self-indulgent and whiny if that had been a layer in a complex personality, but it wasn't. Lester was beginning to realise that when it came to personality self-indulgent and whiny pretty much summed him up. Oh, and meek, and directionless, and not much use.
Look at the gnome. On the one hand it was here demanding stuff when another person was in dire straits not five feet away. The sprite somehow managed to act as if it was oblivious to this while stamping its foot and carrying on like it was the only being that mattered in the whole of Faerie. On the other hand at least the gnome had some sort of motivational through-line. At least it was a force to be reckoned with.
Lester stood in the corner and didn't know what to think and tried not to be any bother. At least he wasn't any bother. At the same time he was becoming extremely tired of not being any use, either. His head was actually starting to throb at the concept of his own complete irrelevance to everything. On his travels he had met knights and magicians, merchants and royalty, what had he ever been through any of it? He had been Lester who could lend a hand with anything not too difficult.
Lester promised himself that as soon as equilbrium was restored he would rock the boat a bit, he would upset the apple cart. He would make his presence felt. Not so felt that people lost their tempers or anything, just felt enough to make Lester feel less on the edges of everything.
"Uh, well," the gnome said. Lester marvelled that he'd managed to fit all that thinking into the space between the gnome becoming awkward and deciding what to say next. "I can see that a lot of what's happened to James... ah, your father, is as a result of mischief casually melting away some deeper enchantments."
"What do you mean 'deeper enchantments'?" Rachel asked.
"Anything mischievous, I can detect," the gnome said. Although it was plain that there would be a time to talk further on the gnome's wish list, for now he was relishing the role of 'expert'. "But I couldn't tell that your dad was enchanted, not when we first met, he just looked like a mouse. A normal mouse. Oh, yes, he could talk, but that isn't such a big deal, you know."
"So what does that mean?" Rachel asked.
"It means that the magic that transformed James into the mouse was very complex and meant to bind. I'm not entirely sure that he was supposed to forget that he was a man, or your dad, or whatever, but I think that's a separate enchantment, after all, you don't remember much about before being in the Skull Garden either, do you?"
"No," Rachel said. "Honestly, I still don't."
"When we took you there," Rebecca said. "You were very young, I wouldn't be at all surprised if you didn't remember what happened before. I forgot everything while I was in the garden too. I only began to remember when I left, and then, well, I got dispersed."
"So you see," the gnome said, inserting himself back into the conversation, determined to monopolise everyone's attention. "The effects of the garden are slow and deep, but not permanent. I wouldn't advise anyone to remain there for too long, could get tricky."
"So how long before Ja- my dad, is back to normal?" Rachel asked.
The gnome got half way into a shrug before James himself broke into the conversation:
"They were all in the castle when the storm came!" he said. "There was the dragon and the frog. They weren't alone. They thought they were. But the mouse was careful. It stayed out of sight. Mice can hide, best hide, best way to stay out of the way. Not like the man who went to see the master of mischief, no. Desperate man, clever man, but desperate, confused. Needed to find his brother, needed to find a way to his brother, not just a disguise you see... really. Because you can't have two mice. Don't you see? Two mice are always bad. Two bad mice."
James looked around at the assembled group, who were all still trying to unravel this stilted dialogue. All except for Lester.
In the couple of seconds it usually took him to lose the initiative Lester realised that no-one had said anything, further, he realised that he had something to say.
"Are you telling me that I went to the master of mischief?" he asked James.
James's glowing, beatific expression dropped into one of deep disappointment.
"That's what you took from that?" he asked.
"It's me, isn't it? You're not the only one who's had their memory messed with," Lester said. "I am looking for my brother and... the man in the tall hat, he is the master of mischief."
"Oh, yes," the gnome chipped in. "That's the boss, Loki, everyone knows that."
Everyone looked at the gnome.
"Well," the gnome corrected himself, gruffly. "I thought everyone knew that."
"It has to be said," Eos said. "I'm sure there are lots of people who have looked for a missing brother through history. I heard a story myself about a man who went to Loki asking for help with a missing brother. I heard it when I was a girl. That story obviously isn't about you, Lester."
"And in the story," Lester asked Eos, feeling more purpose than he could ever remember having felt before. "What did the master of mischief tell the man to do?"
"Loki sent the man to death's garden with a spade. When he dug the ground he found all of his brother's secrets. I always thought it was a metaphor."
"Are you saying you think my brother is dead?" Lester asked.
"I'm saying that I think the brother of the man in the story was dead," Eos said. "We've already established that it wasn't you."
Lester's scalp had started to tingle as all the elements came together: frequent encounters with the master of Mischief, adventuring with escapees from the garden of death, stories about secrets buried in that garden. It didn't really matter what Eos said, Lester knew what he felt about his recent experiences. Everything was just beginning to make sense and Lester wasn't going to let that stop.
"We need to go to the Skull Garden, right now," Lester said.
"Oh, at last, thank you!" the gnome cried in agreement.
"Lester..." Eos said, the first chiming note of dissent.
"No, Eos," Lester said. "I know what I feel, for once, and what I feel is that my brother is in the Skull Garden."
"If he is then, surely, he's dead," Eos said. "Do you believe that Lester?"
"If he's dead then that's what he is," Lester said. "But if I've learned one thing about Chester these last few months it's that he is a man who is rarely where you thought he was and seldom what he seems."
"I know a way," Rebecca said. "But... should we all go?"
"You have to all go," the gnome said. "I need you there, so I can be free."
"Well, technically that's just me and dad," Rachel said, the little pause where she changed 'James' to 'dad' still noticeable but less so than it had been.
"You don't understand," Rebecca said. "We might forget who we are, that's what the Skull Garden does."
"It's a powerful magic," the gnome said. "But it is built to endure. It would take weeks, maybe months to forget everything completely. You can go long enough to set me free, then you can leave."
"But we never could," Rachel said. "You could not reach the edge before the bat would leave the Skull Cave, it would get us all."
"We can fend off a single bat," Lester said.
"It's a giant bat," Rachel pointed out.
"We've done it before," Lester insisted.
"I think you'll find that was Frederick," Eos said.
"So. What?" Lester asked. "We're going to all just give up? The gnome is enslaved to this wish forever? I never find out what happened to my brother?"
"Now hang on just a minute!" the gnome cried out, anxious at the possibility of never being the master of his own destiny.
"I can get us out," Rebecca said. "I got out before, but I'm worried about James. He hasn't recovered from leaving the garden yet. I think it's the mouse enchantment, he's so confused."
"I think," Eos said. "That we shall have to wait until James is maybe a little better, but at that point we shall ask Rebecca to take us to the garden and then we shall see what is what."
And that is exactly what they did, but what they found when they returned to the Skull Garden for the very last time is a story for another day.
Sunday, 14 July 2013
In Which Saeed Comes To The Brink Of Forever
Saeed travelled alone across the Turnaround Bridge, through the rainbow mist, on to destinations unknown. The one thing he was reasonably clear on was that he was travelling on toward his final destination, a reconciliation with his mother, a chance to apologise for the wrong that he had done.
Obtaining the price the Keeper of the Way had demanded, the seal of Kalico, master of the Patchwork Market at Bridgetown, had been hard enough. Saeed had seen many things in the execution of his tasks, experiences he was storing away carefully within his head in preparation for the time when he would once again see his mother.
He hoped that this time would now be close at hand for, overall, Saeed felt that his mind was becoming very full indeed. If much more happened to him on the road there was a chance that he might forget things that had happened to him and that would not be a good thing at all.
The way across the Turnaround Bridge was long, the bridge itself was narrow at the start. As it continued out through the strange coloured mists that surrounded him the bridge changed in shape, until it was clear that this way was not a single bridge but, apparently, many bridges strung together through a vast, indistinct void.
The bridge continued on for such a distance that Saeed began to feel a little concerned. There was no indication whether the other side of the bridge was close at hand, or whether he'd even got halfway across. There was just the narrow path through nothingness, no end in sight.
Eventually the bridge broadened, a ramp carried Saeed up onto a wide suspension bridge. He still had not reached the opposite side and he began to detect other people wandering through the mist.
The people were dressed in a variety of outfits. Some Saeed recognised, some he did not. All were walking parallel to Saeed, across the bridge and on to the other side. Saeed did not see one person attempting to cross the other way.
Before long the number of people had grown quite large. Saeed could not identify himself as a lone traveller, instead finding himself enfolded within a shuffling throng, all walking in one direction, all looking about at their fellow travellers in some confusion.
"I was not expecting to meet so many people on this path," Saeed said to the closest person to him, an old man, a gnome sat upon his shoulders.
"Many seek Luminis," the man replied. "Few gain entrance."
"I know you will think this to be a strange admission," Saeed said. "But I did not know this path lead to a place called Luminis. All I know is that it is a place I must be."
The older man smiled.
"That is probably not uncommon," he said. "I am just acting as a guide for my friend here," he indicated the gnome. "He has lost his purpose. He must find a new one or return to the source."
"I think it's been time enough for Splinterflame," the gnome said cheerily. "I imagine that it is my time to return whence I came, beyond the Central City, into the heart of creation itself."
"I'm afraid I am not very educated," Saeed said. "I do not really follow what it is you are saying."
"Education does not matter," the older man said. "All that matters is what the gatekeepers decide."
"I see," Saeed said. "Well, I hope that they decide in my favour."
"All do," the man said. "There's really no way to tell until you get to the walls."
"Look!" came a cry from the front of the crowd. "There it is!"
The crowd instantly hushed, all conversation dying upon every tongue. Every one looked up and out towards the distant horizon, still wreathed in the indistinct lightly-hued mists.
Then, the mists broke, far in the sky the black shapes of tall spires became visible, the colour overhead went from a varied patchwork of different shades to a clear and brilliant blue. The heat of a bright sun washed over the crowd.
A few steps further on and tall walls of large dark brick became visible, a few steps further again and the party crossed the far side of the bridge, stepping from a wooden floor to a white brick path winding through an expansive green valley towards an enormous structure built into the dark wall up ahead. The spires that had been the first visible sign of Luminis were the only part of the enormous city beyond the dark walls that could be seen from the path.
A ramshackle settlement had been erected at the foot of the wall. None of the structures that made up this encampment looked permanent or particularly safe for the inhabitants. There were a few proper tents and permanent caravans but alongside this were poorly built shacks constructed out of loosely piled rocks or pieces of discarded wood.
As the crowd passed by, walking on towards the gigantic archway at the foot of the enormous gatehouse of Luminis Saeed looked about himself trying to assess what kinds of people lived in the settlement at the base of the walls. There were many people from the bridge crowding in all about him but Saeed caught glimpses of goblin traders and many people who looked like the beggars from the streets of Afsana where he had grown up.
As the archway loomed closer Saeed began to worry that he had not questioned where the Turnaround Bridge would send him, just that it would bring him closer to his mother. Of course, his mother had been taken by death. Was this a place of the dead?
Luminis did not look like any paradise that Saeed had ever imagined, and if it was, who were all those dwelling in the shanty town? Were they the sinful? Was that the judgement that was to follow? Would Saeed's own guilt at his thievery prevent him from gaining access to this celestial city?
Saeed found it hard to believe that he was standing before the entrance to paradise. Much aside from anything else why would the righteous have to walk past the wicked to cross the threshold to their reward? If they saw others suffering and did nothing then how righteous were they anyway?
Much apart from these challenging concepts Saeed could feel sun on his face, a slight breeze blowing in from the mountains to his left. He did not feel dead, he did not remember dying, so this could not be a land for the dead or a place of ultimate judgement.
Maybe Saeed was wrong but he believed that whatever Luminis was, it wasn't a land of the dead. He would have an opportunity to find out shortly, because he was about to pass through the arch into the gatehouse and out of the sun-filled valley.
On the other side of the arch was a huge courtyard with a gigantic polished marble floor. It reminded Saeed of the Caliph's Palace at Afsana but colder, the structure had a feeling of officiousness that he associated with the Patchwork Market more than any part of his home city.
All around the courtyard were a number of narrow doorways, standing at each doorway was a strangely dressed usher in a little round hat, a blue jacket, a white shirt and straight blue trousers. Saeed had never seen such an outfit before. The closest thing he had seen was Joshua's clothing but that had been more dark and serious. The bright blue and white of these uniforms made the ushers look a little like clowns.
Even so they motioned for members of the throng to come forward and step through the doorways, and people were going. As the crowd kept moving forward and out to the side so Saeed drifted closer to a doorway. As he reached the threshold the usher looked Saeed in the eye and said.
"Go along until you reach an open doorway, then go right inside, first one you see."
The usher reached out a white-gloved hand and guided Saeed into the passageway before he had time to object or ask any questions.
For the first time on his journey Saeed began to feel afraid. He had embarked upon his journey without fear, he now realised, because he had thought of his eventual goal as being fairly straightforward and obvious. He had seen his mother die, the angel of death had told him where to begin his journey, that step had lead to the next, had lead to the next, had lead... here.
This strange, long, cool, dark stone corridor, like so many he had already seen, with closed doors ranged against the right hand wall. In the distance he could make out the triangle of yellow light demarcating the first open door upon the route.
There were people already gathering behind him. Saeed stepped forward before he had the time to consider whether he wanted to keep walking forward or not. It occurred to him that the time to turn away had already happened at a time when he would never have considered it. He hadn't been allowed to back away for some time now.
Given no choice, his stomach yawning with a hollow dread he could not name, Saeed walked along the corridor towards the square of light. He reached the door quickly and peered over the threshold. Sat inside the room beyond the door was a young woman dressed like some of the more monied residents of the Patchwork Market, in a plain but elegant dress that came down towards the mid point of her calves, her feet wrapped in pointy soft leather boots.
The young woman's fair hair was gathered in a precise knot on the crown of her skull. She wore jewelled earrings and a single ring on her left hand. She did not appear to be wearing make up.
"Saeed Ibn Abihi?" the young woman asked. "Please, come in, sit down."
The woman motioned to a chair opposite her position. In between them, slightly off to one side was a tea set that reminded Saeed of Joshua's house.
Saeed stepped inside and sat down. The woman went over and gently closed the door, then she returned to her seat.
"Really, there's no need to look so frightened. This is just a little chat about why you've come to Luminis. If I decide entering the city would be in your best interests then there won't be a problem."
"I must say," Saeed said. "I did not really know that I was coming to Luminis. I did not even know such a place existed. I merely knew that this was a step upon my journey to be reunited with my mother."
"You believe your mother is here?" The woman asked. She picked up the tea pot. "Tea?"
"No, thank you," Saeed said. "I really don't know if my mother is here, the Keeper of the Turnaround Bridge took a price from me and when I crossed the bridge this is where I found myself."
"Have some tea, dear," the woman said. "It will relax you. You look like you need to relax."
She poured Saeed a cup of tea, then she picked up her own cup and sipped from it.
"So your mother might not be in Luminis?" the woman said.
"I think the Turnaround Bridge uses magic to determine the destination of the traveller," Saeed said. "I don't think it would have sent me here if I didn't need to be here."
"Ah but it's old magic," the woman said. "Deep magic. This whole place is the product of some of the oldest and deepest magic that exists. I think it is without doubt that you do need to enter the city. The question then becomes whether you should enter now, today."
"I am really just looking to apologise for a lie I told to my mother," Saeed said. "That is all I want in the world."
"And if you get all that you want in the world," the woman said. "What then?"
"I... don't know," Saeed said. As he sat, sipping at the tea he didn't want, considering questions he hadn't wanted to consider a great sadness reawakened in Saeed. He had diverted the pain, looking ahead to his goal but the woman's questions had brought to him a great realisation. When Saeed met his mother again it would be an apology and a farewell. Things would never be as they once had been.
"Then maybe you need to know," the woman said. "This is a place people come to learn, Saeed. A place they come to become what they must be to do the things they must do. Nobody has come here to deliver an apology. I am afraid I cannot approve your entry into the city. It has been lovely to talk with you though. When you're ready go through the door in the back corner."
She indicated a door visible over her left shoulder before sipping, silently, at her tea. She did not speak again.
Saeed didn't know what to do or say. Should he argue back? The woman's logic did not appear sound, what if his mother was in Luminis? What if this was the end of Saeed's journey and he was being turned away?
On the other hand, what if she was right? What if this was yet another step along the road, a road that may not include a stop in Luminis? The only problem with that was the thought of what to do next. Saeed did not know another way onwards.
"So," he said carefully, "when it is my time to enter Luminis I should come back to this place?"
"There are many ways to enter Luminis," the woman said. "Today this was the route chosen for you."
"Chosen by whom?" Saeed asked.
"By the source, the powers of the weave, the aspect of fate," the woman said. "That is how the Hall of Entrance works."
"Well," Saeed said, standing up. "Thank you for your time. I am sorry that my case failed to meet your expectation for entry to the city."
"There will be other days," the woman said. "You must understand that it is nothing personal."
"I do," Saeed said. "Thank you."
Saeed moved around the table with the tea set and out through the door at the back. The door lead into a corridor that stretched on for a long while before making a couple of sharp left turns and eventually depositing Saeed back outside the walls of Luminis to the rear of the shanty town.
"A thief I am," Saeed muttered to himself, looking about the shacks and mud paths that defined the shanty town. "So like a thief I must enter this city."
Saeed did not know if the young woman in the Hall of Entrance had intended to imply that Saeed could just walk outside and try to gain entrance to the city of Luminis by other means but this was what he had taken from her explanations. Saeed walked through the shanty town, instantly feeling more comfortable about his surroundings.
Looking about himself Saeed determined that, despite the modesty of the encampment, this was not as miserable a place as such dwellings tended to be. The wood and metal of the shack construction was usually quite clean, free from evidence of erosion by the elements. The doors to many of the shacks stood open and homey little spaces were visible within. These accomodations were sparse but not spartan.
Some residents had book shelves, others shrines, others displayed works of art or musical instruments. This did not appear to be a place of desperation, merely a stopping point, something like a travelling market or a festival encampment.
The people of the shanty town moved back and forth around Saeed, about their business. Eavesdropping upon their conversations Saeed determined that, rather than discussing hunger, poverty or hardship, their minds were occupied with matters of philosophy, aesthetics and mysticism.
This was a place more curious than the enigmatic city within the mighty walls beyond. A hastily erected community of intellectuals that sat below the mighty dark stone walls of Luminis. Presumably these were others who had come through the Hall of Entrance and been turned away.
Saeed was perplexed. He was a thief, he was reasonably confident that he could find an opportunity to steal into Luminis if he looked hard enough. These men and women were scholars, what was the purpose of their encampment? The young woman had told Saeed that all who were ready could enter Luminis via the Hall of Entrance. If you were not ready, according to the administrators, you had to seek another way in. Sitting in shacks discussing the nature of reality did not appear to be in anyone's best interests.
Before he could think further upon this matter the opportunity he had searched for presented itself. Saeed had learned long ago how to spot an opportunity. He had also learned that if you didn't take an opportunity as it came up the door could often close.
He could see a small fringe of the encampment was packing itself up. A man in uniform was shouting orders to a number of other men in uniform, of various shapes and sizes. They were packing up their dwellings and pulling sacks of clothes and supplies onto their back.
"The prince is waiting, he can't wait forever," the man was shouting. "His advisors have worked long and hard to lift the blockade and now he must enter the city with his guard protecting him. Hurry! Hurry!"
The men in uniform were too busy to pay much attention to Saeed as he moved through their encampment. They failed to question him when he located a trunk filled with parts of the guards' uniforms. No one cared when Saeed donned a uniform and then, dressed in black breeches and tunic, a fine mail tabard and a pointy metal helmet, began to assist in the packing of the encampment.
Before long pallets were loaded and packs were worn upon the soldier's backs. Saeed himself was carrying a heavy pack containing some kind of ground meal. The guards formed a column and marched towards the entrance hall, Saeed in their midst.
The process of taking the opportunity had occupied all of Saeed's mind for the time until the column of soldiers he had joined began their march into the city of Luminis. As the army marched to the right of the entrance hall and through a large opening that had not been there a few hours before Saeed had an opportunity for his own doubts and fears to catch up with him.
Before they quite could he spent some time scanning the rest of the shanty town for signs of others trying to breach the gap in the walls of Luminis. A few intellectual types stood by, watching the prince's guard enter the city, but no one seemed ready to cheat the system the way that Saeed was.
Of course, if anyone was cheating exactly the way that Saeed was Saeed would probably not know about it, that was the core of his plan. He had one final opportunity to wonder whether what he was now doing was for the best or not. He was a thief, his existence revolved around obtaining his desires by stealth, not always entirely in sympathy with the wishes of others.
Was this really how he should continue his life? What was he to do otherwise? At the moment his conscience was clear because his skills were in the service of a loftier goal, and his own personal code meant that, should he be asked, he could not help but be honest. As the young woman had said to him in the Hall of Entrance: what would come after?
Maybe going into Luminis was a mistake, he had been refused entry already. All he knew was that he had no where else to go and nothing else to do right now, so this was what would have to be. Maybe, he considered as he marched on through the breach to enter Luminis, he would have to think about some ways to change that.
This he did, among many other things that happened to him within the walls of Luminis, but all those are stories for another time.
Obtaining the price the Keeper of the Way had demanded, the seal of Kalico, master of the Patchwork Market at Bridgetown, had been hard enough. Saeed had seen many things in the execution of his tasks, experiences he was storing away carefully within his head in preparation for the time when he would once again see his mother.
He hoped that this time would now be close at hand for, overall, Saeed felt that his mind was becoming very full indeed. If much more happened to him on the road there was a chance that he might forget things that had happened to him and that would not be a good thing at all.
The way across the Turnaround Bridge was long, the bridge itself was narrow at the start. As it continued out through the strange coloured mists that surrounded him the bridge changed in shape, until it was clear that this way was not a single bridge but, apparently, many bridges strung together through a vast, indistinct void.
The bridge continued on for such a distance that Saeed began to feel a little concerned. There was no indication whether the other side of the bridge was close at hand, or whether he'd even got halfway across. There was just the narrow path through nothingness, no end in sight.
Eventually the bridge broadened, a ramp carried Saeed up onto a wide suspension bridge. He still had not reached the opposite side and he began to detect other people wandering through the mist.
The people were dressed in a variety of outfits. Some Saeed recognised, some he did not. All were walking parallel to Saeed, across the bridge and on to the other side. Saeed did not see one person attempting to cross the other way.
Before long the number of people had grown quite large. Saeed could not identify himself as a lone traveller, instead finding himself enfolded within a shuffling throng, all walking in one direction, all looking about at their fellow travellers in some confusion.
"I was not expecting to meet so many people on this path," Saeed said to the closest person to him, an old man, a gnome sat upon his shoulders.
"Many seek Luminis," the man replied. "Few gain entrance."
"I know you will think this to be a strange admission," Saeed said. "But I did not know this path lead to a place called Luminis. All I know is that it is a place I must be."
The older man smiled.
"That is probably not uncommon," he said. "I am just acting as a guide for my friend here," he indicated the gnome. "He has lost his purpose. He must find a new one or return to the source."
"I think it's been time enough for Splinterflame," the gnome said cheerily. "I imagine that it is my time to return whence I came, beyond the Central City, into the heart of creation itself."
"I'm afraid I am not very educated," Saeed said. "I do not really follow what it is you are saying."
"Education does not matter," the older man said. "All that matters is what the gatekeepers decide."
"I see," Saeed said. "Well, I hope that they decide in my favour."
"All do," the man said. "There's really no way to tell until you get to the walls."
"Look!" came a cry from the front of the crowd. "There it is!"
The crowd instantly hushed, all conversation dying upon every tongue. Every one looked up and out towards the distant horizon, still wreathed in the indistinct lightly-hued mists.
Then, the mists broke, far in the sky the black shapes of tall spires became visible, the colour overhead went from a varied patchwork of different shades to a clear and brilliant blue. The heat of a bright sun washed over the crowd.
A few steps further on and tall walls of large dark brick became visible, a few steps further again and the party crossed the far side of the bridge, stepping from a wooden floor to a white brick path winding through an expansive green valley towards an enormous structure built into the dark wall up ahead. The spires that had been the first visible sign of Luminis were the only part of the enormous city beyond the dark walls that could be seen from the path.
A ramshackle settlement had been erected at the foot of the wall. None of the structures that made up this encampment looked permanent or particularly safe for the inhabitants. There were a few proper tents and permanent caravans but alongside this were poorly built shacks constructed out of loosely piled rocks or pieces of discarded wood.
As the crowd passed by, walking on towards the gigantic archway at the foot of the enormous gatehouse of Luminis Saeed looked about himself trying to assess what kinds of people lived in the settlement at the base of the walls. There were many people from the bridge crowding in all about him but Saeed caught glimpses of goblin traders and many people who looked like the beggars from the streets of Afsana where he had grown up.
As the archway loomed closer Saeed began to worry that he had not questioned where the Turnaround Bridge would send him, just that it would bring him closer to his mother. Of course, his mother had been taken by death. Was this a place of the dead?
Luminis did not look like any paradise that Saeed had ever imagined, and if it was, who were all those dwelling in the shanty town? Were they the sinful? Was that the judgement that was to follow? Would Saeed's own guilt at his thievery prevent him from gaining access to this celestial city?
Saeed found it hard to believe that he was standing before the entrance to paradise. Much aside from anything else why would the righteous have to walk past the wicked to cross the threshold to their reward? If they saw others suffering and did nothing then how righteous were they anyway?
Much apart from these challenging concepts Saeed could feel sun on his face, a slight breeze blowing in from the mountains to his left. He did not feel dead, he did not remember dying, so this could not be a land for the dead or a place of ultimate judgement.
Maybe Saeed was wrong but he believed that whatever Luminis was, it wasn't a land of the dead. He would have an opportunity to find out shortly, because he was about to pass through the arch into the gatehouse and out of the sun-filled valley.
On the other side of the arch was a huge courtyard with a gigantic polished marble floor. It reminded Saeed of the Caliph's Palace at Afsana but colder, the structure had a feeling of officiousness that he associated with the Patchwork Market more than any part of his home city.
All around the courtyard were a number of narrow doorways, standing at each doorway was a strangely dressed usher in a little round hat, a blue jacket, a white shirt and straight blue trousers. Saeed had never seen such an outfit before. The closest thing he had seen was Joshua's clothing but that had been more dark and serious. The bright blue and white of these uniforms made the ushers look a little like clowns.
Even so they motioned for members of the throng to come forward and step through the doorways, and people were going. As the crowd kept moving forward and out to the side so Saeed drifted closer to a doorway. As he reached the threshold the usher looked Saeed in the eye and said.
"Go along until you reach an open doorway, then go right inside, first one you see."
The usher reached out a white-gloved hand and guided Saeed into the passageway before he had time to object or ask any questions.
For the first time on his journey Saeed began to feel afraid. He had embarked upon his journey without fear, he now realised, because he had thought of his eventual goal as being fairly straightforward and obvious. He had seen his mother die, the angel of death had told him where to begin his journey, that step had lead to the next, had lead to the next, had lead... here.
This strange, long, cool, dark stone corridor, like so many he had already seen, with closed doors ranged against the right hand wall. In the distance he could make out the triangle of yellow light demarcating the first open door upon the route.
There were people already gathering behind him. Saeed stepped forward before he had the time to consider whether he wanted to keep walking forward or not. It occurred to him that the time to turn away had already happened at a time when he would never have considered it. He hadn't been allowed to back away for some time now.
Given no choice, his stomach yawning with a hollow dread he could not name, Saeed walked along the corridor towards the square of light. He reached the door quickly and peered over the threshold. Sat inside the room beyond the door was a young woman dressed like some of the more monied residents of the Patchwork Market, in a plain but elegant dress that came down towards the mid point of her calves, her feet wrapped in pointy soft leather boots.
The young woman's fair hair was gathered in a precise knot on the crown of her skull. She wore jewelled earrings and a single ring on her left hand. She did not appear to be wearing make up.
"Saeed Ibn Abihi?" the young woman asked. "Please, come in, sit down."
The woman motioned to a chair opposite her position. In between them, slightly off to one side was a tea set that reminded Saeed of Joshua's house.
Saeed stepped inside and sat down. The woman went over and gently closed the door, then she returned to her seat.
"Really, there's no need to look so frightened. This is just a little chat about why you've come to Luminis. If I decide entering the city would be in your best interests then there won't be a problem."
"I must say," Saeed said. "I did not really know that I was coming to Luminis. I did not even know such a place existed. I merely knew that this was a step upon my journey to be reunited with my mother."
"You believe your mother is here?" The woman asked. She picked up the tea pot. "Tea?"
"No, thank you," Saeed said. "I really don't know if my mother is here, the Keeper of the Turnaround Bridge took a price from me and when I crossed the bridge this is where I found myself."
"Have some tea, dear," the woman said. "It will relax you. You look like you need to relax."
She poured Saeed a cup of tea, then she picked up her own cup and sipped from it.
"So your mother might not be in Luminis?" the woman said.
"I think the Turnaround Bridge uses magic to determine the destination of the traveller," Saeed said. "I don't think it would have sent me here if I didn't need to be here."
"Ah but it's old magic," the woman said. "Deep magic. This whole place is the product of some of the oldest and deepest magic that exists. I think it is without doubt that you do need to enter the city. The question then becomes whether you should enter now, today."
"I am really just looking to apologise for a lie I told to my mother," Saeed said. "That is all I want in the world."
"And if you get all that you want in the world," the woman said. "What then?"
"I... don't know," Saeed said. As he sat, sipping at the tea he didn't want, considering questions he hadn't wanted to consider a great sadness reawakened in Saeed. He had diverted the pain, looking ahead to his goal but the woman's questions had brought to him a great realisation. When Saeed met his mother again it would be an apology and a farewell. Things would never be as they once had been.
"Then maybe you need to know," the woman said. "This is a place people come to learn, Saeed. A place they come to become what they must be to do the things they must do. Nobody has come here to deliver an apology. I am afraid I cannot approve your entry into the city. It has been lovely to talk with you though. When you're ready go through the door in the back corner."
She indicated a door visible over her left shoulder before sipping, silently, at her tea. She did not speak again.
Saeed didn't know what to do or say. Should he argue back? The woman's logic did not appear sound, what if his mother was in Luminis? What if this was the end of Saeed's journey and he was being turned away?
On the other hand, what if she was right? What if this was yet another step along the road, a road that may not include a stop in Luminis? The only problem with that was the thought of what to do next. Saeed did not know another way onwards.
"So," he said carefully, "when it is my time to enter Luminis I should come back to this place?"
"There are many ways to enter Luminis," the woman said. "Today this was the route chosen for you."
"Chosen by whom?" Saeed asked.
"By the source, the powers of the weave, the aspect of fate," the woman said. "That is how the Hall of Entrance works."
"Well," Saeed said, standing up. "Thank you for your time. I am sorry that my case failed to meet your expectation for entry to the city."
"There will be other days," the woman said. "You must understand that it is nothing personal."
"I do," Saeed said. "Thank you."
Saeed moved around the table with the tea set and out through the door at the back. The door lead into a corridor that stretched on for a long while before making a couple of sharp left turns and eventually depositing Saeed back outside the walls of Luminis to the rear of the shanty town.
"A thief I am," Saeed muttered to himself, looking about the shacks and mud paths that defined the shanty town. "So like a thief I must enter this city."
Saeed did not know if the young woman in the Hall of Entrance had intended to imply that Saeed could just walk outside and try to gain entrance to the city of Luminis by other means but this was what he had taken from her explanations. Saeed walked through the shanty town, instantly feeling more comfortable about his surroundings.
Looking about himself Saeed determined that, despite the modesty of the encampment, this was not as miserable a place as such dwellings tended to be. The wood and metal of the shack construction was usually quite clean, free from evidence of erosion by the elements. The doors to many of the shacks stood open and homey little spaces were visible within. These accomodations were sparse but not spartan.
Some residents had book shelves, others shrines, others displayed works of art or musical instruments. This did not appear to be a place of desperation, merely a stopping point, something like a travelling market or a festival encampment.
The people of the shanty town moved back and forth around Saeed, about their business. Eavesdropping upon their conversations Saeed determined that, rather than discussing hunger, poverty or hardship, their minds were occupied with matters of philosophy, aesthetics and mysticism.
This was a place more curious than the enigmatic city within the mighty walls beyond. A hastily erected community of intellectuals that sat below the mighty dark stone walls of Luminis. Presumably these were others who had come through the Hall of Entrance and been turned away.
Saeed was perplexed. He was a thief, he was reasonably confident that he could find an opportunity to steal into Luminis if he looked hard enough. These men and women were scholars, what was the purpose of their encampment? The young woman had told Saeed that all who were ready could enter Luminis via the Hall of Entrance. If you were not ready, according to the administrators, you had to seek another way in. Sitting in shacks discussing the nature of reality did not appear to be in anyone's best interests.
Before he could think further upon this matter the opportunity he had searched for presented itself. Saeed had learned long ago how to spot an opportunity. He had also learned that if you didn't take an opportunity as it came up the door could often close.
He could see a small fringe of the encampment was packing itself up. A man in uniform was shouting orders to a number of other men in uniform, of various shapes and sizes. They were packing up their dwellings and pulling sacks of clothes and supplies onto their back.
"The prince is waiting, he can't wait forever," the man was shouting. "His advisors have worked long and hard to lift the blockade and now he must enter the city with his guard protecting him. Hurry! Hurry!"
The men in uniform were too busy to pay much attention to Saeed as he moved through their encampment. They failed to question him when he located a trunk filled with parts of the guards' uniforms. No one cared when Saeed donned a uniform and then, dressed in black breeches and tunic, a fine mail tabard and a pointy metal helmet, began to assist in the packing of the encampment.
Before long pallets were loaded and packs were worn upon the soldier's backs. Saeed himself was carrying a heavy pack containing some kind of ground meal. The guards formed a column and marched towards the entrance hall, Saeed in their midst.
The process of taking the opportunity had occupied all of Saeed's mind for the time until the column of soldiers he had joined began their march into the city of Luminis. As the army marched to the right of the entrance hall and through a large opening that had not been there a few hours before Saeed had an opportunity for his own doubts and fears to catch up with him.
Before they quite could he spent some time scanning the rest of the shanty town for signs of others trying to breach the gap in the walls of Luminis. A few intellectual types stood by, watching the prince's guard enter the city, but no one seemed ready to cheat the system the way that Saeed was.
Of course, if anyone was cheating exactly the way that Saeed was Saeed would probably not know about it, that was the core of his plan. He had one final opportunity to wonder whether what he was now doing was for the best or not. He was a thief, his existence revolved around obtaining his desires by stealth, not always entirely in sympathy with the wishes of others.
Was this really how he should continue his life? What was he to do otherwise? At the moment his conscience was clear because his skills were in the service of a loftier goal, and his own personal code meant that, should he be asked, he could not help but be honest. As the young woman had said to him in the Hall of Entrance: what would come after?
Maybe going into Luminis was a mistake, he had been refused entry already. All he knew was that he had no where else to go and nothing else to do right now, so this was what would have to be. Maybe, he considered as he marched on through the breach to enter Luminis, he would have to think about some ways to change that.
This he did, among many other things that happened to him within the walls of Luminis, but all those are stories for another time.
Sunday, 9 June 2013
Lester and James In The House of Secrets
"How long is it until noon bell?"
James sighed. He had never realised before how impatient Lester could be. He had no way of knowing the precise time but it couldn't be more than half an hour after mid-morning bell. Lester had already asked his question five times.
"What's the problem?" James asked him refusing to say 'five minutes less than the last time you asked' again. "Yes, we have to stay still, but it's not the most tedious environment in the world. There's hustle and bustle, the various colours and shades of a dynamic market town. It could be much worse."
"That's your opinion," Lester said. "We have to wait here for ages and do nothing. That's not right."
"Well, what else could we be doing?" James asked. "Neither of us can do magic and neither of us are really cut out for cage fighting. Even if they had a rodent league. I don't think I'd be very good. I don't like the thought of hurting anyone, even a mouse."
Lester took a look about, at the market in the square, at the archway that housed the market bell, at the streets of Steephill Fell laid out beyond the market.
"We could spend a little more time looking for the trader's wagon," Lester said. "After all no one will be making a bronze mark within the next twenty minutes, probably."
"Phoebe told us to stay here," James said.
"Well, so?" Lester said. "She doesn't own us. We're free agents."
"That's a bit of a change in attitude," James said. "A couple of days ago it was yes Phoebe, no Phoebe, three bags full Phoebe."
"Three bags full of what?" Lester demanded, his annoyance somewhat undermined by the random thing he had chosen to identify as the source of his annoyance.
"Wool," James said. "Like in the nursery rhyme, you know, yes sir, yes sir, three bags full... one for the master... one for the dame... and one for... the little boy... down the... you don't have any idea what I'm talking about, do you?"
"Don't worry," Lester said. "I've met a lot of strange people, you're not the strangest. You're just a bit crazy and you make up new words and it's like you talk in a completely foreign language sometimes. It's really kind of endearing, in a way."
"Well, anyway," James said. "I had received the impression that you had a bit of a fancy for the irritable witch, what's changed?"
"I don't know," Lester said. "Well, I do, I think Cobb likes her too and I can't compete with that. Besides, when we met Princess Butterstone I realised, well, I just like pretty girls, any pretty girls without any sort of discrimination; particularly the ones armed with dangerous weapons... is that weird?"
"A thousand teenage boys with internet connections would tell you no," James sighed. "As for the rest of us..."
"There you go again," Lester said, "talking complete gibberish, what's an 'into net'? And what does one 'connect' it with?"
"The internet," James said. "You know, the computer network, with all the pictures of naked ladies, and people arguing about Star Wars, and the emails filled with spam and malware?"
"I was with you right up to 'the'," realising that needed qualifying, Lester qualified it: "the first one.".
"Now that you come to mention it," James said. "I had noticed a distinct lack of technology in these parts. I think I'm quite angry. I'm the wrong species, I'm lost in the wrong world and I've lost my daughter." James stopped. There was a period of heavy silence. "Oh," James said. "My."
"You're talking about Rachel, aren't you?" Lester asked. "Rachel is your daughter."
"I don't like this," James complained. "My head's like a house full of stuff, but it's all in the wrong rooms, the settee is in the bathroom and the oven is in the garage. Every so often something suddenly goes back where it's supposed to be but all that does is make the rest of it seem even more confused." James felt the hideously heartbreaking cute of tiny mouse tears at the corner of his tiny mouse eyes. He couldn't give into the terrible sentiment of the mental image. "Hang it!" he said loudly. "You're right Lester, Phoebe's not the boss of us, let's go look for that wagon."
"Okay," Lester said, a smile spreading across his face. "Let's do it."
They started the rebellion small wandering in a broken circle around the fringes of the market and poking their head down a few of the streets always keeping the archway in sight. They'd already taken a look around the market when it was opening up so they opted, instead to have a quick walk about Steephill Fell proper.
It didn't take them long to find the high street where a number of more permanent shops were set up selling all the things the modern resident of the Crossway Realms could wish to buy. There was everything here from gentleman's outfitters to suppliers of magical trinkets, to shops crammed full of curios from far off Kingdoms.
Further along the main thoroughfare were a number of smaller shops and the road splintered into a number of specialist arcades, one for cobblers and tanners, one for dealers in fresh vegetables, one for fishmongers and one for tradesmen specialising in the repair of various items.
A little further along still and the road changed its nature to become more residential, interrupted by the presence of the odd tavern. It was while taking a cursory glance around these streets that James noticed the trader's wagon.
At least, he presumed it was a trader's wagon. It was a tall covered wagon painted in bright colours and bearing the legend 'Riseandshine & Titsadaisy - Goblin Merchants'. Beside the wagon was a nine foot tall metal statue of a man. That feature seemed a bit out of place, stood, as it was, in the gutter. James decided he had better things to worry about, such as catching up with his freshly remembered daughter.
"Lester," he said. "I think we may have found what we're looking for."
Lester turned to look at the wagon.
"Well, technically I'm looking for my brother," he said. "And I only have the word of a strange man in a tall hat that this is the way to find him. That does look like what you are looking for, though, yes."
"Well, come on then," James said, refusing to feel guilty about Lester's brother for the time being, "let's get over there."
Lester crossed the street and walked up to the wagon. As he approached the statue it surprised James by turning out not to be a statue but, in fact, a man made out of metal. Another piece of furniture dislodged itself in James's mind and slotted into a space that allowed James to understand its nature. This metal monster was an iron golem.
Golems were rare now, although once there had been an age when golems were widespread, many had since been smashed or melted down. There were many stories about golems and the problems they could cause because of their nature.
"Not so fast," the golem said, appropriately enough in quite a deep, slow voice. "This wagon is private property."
"Oh," Lester said. "I'm sorry, it's just it... well, we're looking for the owner is he about?"
"Mr Riseandshine is currently out on business," the golem replied.
"Oh, okay," Lester said. The trail end of the remark left James in no doubt that his companion was rapidly running out of conversational road.
"It's not really Mr. Riseandshine we wish to speak with," James said. "It's Rachel, the little girl he's travelling with."
"There's nobody here," the golem said. "Just Felix. Felix just watches the cart. Says 'Not so fast' if people come near. That's Felix job. Security."
There was a motion from the direction of the wagon, James looked over to see what had moved. The flapping wings and giant golden eyes set every rodent nerve in James's little mouse body alight with a keen instinctive pain. Without even thinking James scrambled forward and dove into Lester's top pocket, where he crouched in the darkness waiting for the vision of the death's head to fade from his retina.
"You can tell the mouse not to worry," said a voice that James didn't know. "I haven't been hungry ever since I died."
"Who are you?" Lester's voice asked.
"I am Micras Whitney," the other voice replied. "I live in the model castle in the back of the wagon. I am travelling with Tabarnas and Rachel."
His tiny rodent heart still thumping like a drum James risked poking his head out of the pocket to look at the monstrous form of the white owl perched on the edge of the wagon. Even knowing that this was a spirit form the creature was still terrifying to James's eyes.
There was a part of James that knew he was not a mouse, or at least was not meant to be a mouse. Right now, however, he was scampering about in a mouse body, with a mouse nervous system. This meant that his only thoughts regarding owls were running and hiding and desperate prayers about avoiding death.
"You know where they are?" James asked, sticking to the point, trying to control the quaver in his voice.
"Eos, she's a mermaid, she told me that they were going to the fishmonger's alley," Micras said. "Some kind of trouble."
That gave James something else to worry about. His daughter was in danger from fishmongers, something he didn't even really have a frame of reference for. This was the problem when parts of your identity were both old and new at the same time and then new information came in concerning the things that you hadn't even sorted out in your own head yet.
"When was this?" James's mouth said ignoring the sleet of nonsense that was happening in the rest of his mind.
"It was just after evening bell, yesterday," Micras said.
"That's over twelve hours ago!" James said. "You haven't seen any sign of her since then?"
"Tabarnas, Eos and Gerda, he's the other Iron Golem, they went off together, nobody's been back since," Micras said.
"Lester, you've got to take me to the fishmonger's alley, right now," James said.
"Yes, I will," Lester said. James got the impression that things were moving a bit too fast for Lester but that couldn't be helped, every tiny ounce of James's little mouse body was desperate to find his daughter and make sure she was safe. Vagueness and confusion would not be tolerated.
"Um, bye," Lester said to the golem and to Micras as he hurried back out onto the main street and up towards the entrance of the fishmonger's alley. They headed up the alley with the strongest briny smell emerging from it and found it lead into a quaint covered arcade that contained a number of fish stalls all offering a variety of seafood for sale.
"Now what?" Lester said.
"Ask someone," James said desperately. "I would but this isn't the time for 'oh, a talking mouse' and all that rubbish, please, Lester."
To be fair to him Lester finally got over James's panic and methodically went from stall to stall asking if anyone had seen a little girl, a goblin merchant, a mermaid or an iron golem. Right at the back of the alley there was a final stall that appeared to be offering a wide variety of pickled seafood in various glass jars. The stink from this stall was particularly strong and, as such, it was alone at the end of the alley opposite a dead blank wall of stout stone bricks.
Lester approached the old man tending the pickle stall.
"Excuse me," he said. "I don't suppose that you've seen a little girl come this way? Or possibly a goblin-"
The old man held up his hand for silence. Lester stopped talking.
"I'll tell you as I told the rest," he said. "She went through the magic door yonder." He pointed at the wall opposite the store front. "I said to her, be careful, you'll slip through the door if you mess about there, she didn't listen."
Lester looked at the wall and then back to the pickled fish merchant.
"Magic door?" he said.
"How do we get through?" James cut in no longer caring about the inevitable talking mouse comment that was bound to follow.
"You play patty cake with the bricks," the merchant said, fixing James with a serious stare. "The door opens, as I understand the thing it will take you where you need to go."
"Well, that's handy," James said. "Because I need to find my daughter."
"I didn't see no mice go through there, but then mice are small," the merchant said.
James couldn't be bothered to explain.
"Lester, let's move," he said to his companion.
"But," Lester said. "Magic door, does it work both ways?"
"I've seen people come out from time to time," the merchant said. "Never the same as went in."
"Lester," James said, trying his utmost to make his tone of voice dangerous, this continued not to work.
"Phoebe said..." Lester began.
"Phoebe said what she said because she assumed we would have to travel further to catch up with the trader's wagon," James replied quickly, hearing the impatient grate to his tone of voice. "We've found the wagon and the only thing standing between me and my daughter now is you and a game of patty cake with a wall. Don't argue with me Lester."
At this point Lester could very well have said: 'Or you'll do what? Poop in my shirt pocket?', but he didn't. It was one of the few occasions that James was glad that Lester constantly appeared to be about three moves behind everyone else.
He dutifully stood and patted the wall whilst reciting some rhyme about bakers. Upon completion of the first couplet the next slap turned into a swish as Lester's hand passed straight through the apparently solid brickwork of the stone wall.
"Door's open," said the merchant behind them.
"Go on," James said. "Walk through."
Lester paused for just a moment but then he stepped towards the wall and on through the stone bricks. James didn't know how the experience might have affected Lester but his ears popped and his paws went numb. The temperature of the atmosphere suddenly dropped from comfortable to cold. The light levels sunk dramatically.
For a few moments it was impossible to see anything in the gloom but eventually James's eyes adjusted. They were in some sort of cellar, lit only through thin slits cut into the top of the walls below the ceiling.
"I'm getting a sense of deja dungeon," James said. "How about you?"
Lester instantly turned one hundred and eighty degrees and pressed his hand up to the wall at his back. He played patty cake with the wall. It stubbornly remained a wall.
"Well," Lester said. "We're stuck here now, I hope you're happy with yourself."
"Lester," James said. "My daughter could be here, wherever we are. We are travelling towards my daughter. I don't really care about the operating methods of magic one-way doors."
"I'm just saying," Lester grumbled, "I don't like places like this."
"It's a dungeon," James said. "We've survived worse. Come on, you're on your way to being a seasoned adventurer. This is your second dingy castle in a week. Let's check the rest of the place out, see what kind of evil doer buried grumpy witches in this place. Your next crush might only be six feet of loosely packed earth away."
"You're not funny," Lester said. "Not at all."
"So shut me up by taking in the sights," James insisted.
Reluctantly Lester wandered out of the bare stone room they'd arrived in and down a number of even murkier corridors until he found a set of steps leading up. The ground level was less damp than the cellar, but that just meant it reeked of age and dust. Lester walked from empty room to empty room, occasionally discovering the remains of some forlorn item of furniture but no evidence of anything alive.
"What is it with the empty places?" Lester asked. "Mountain strongholds, weird stone houses, why can't we ever go anywhere nice?"
"The town was quite nice," James pointed out. "The one we just left, not the witch burny one. The Patchwork Market's a fun place to be, very vibrant."
"And then we leave," Lester said. "And come to a place like this. Oh, what's that?"
In a small room behind the remains of a kitchen Lester had spotted an hourglass resting on a shelf. There was a small metal plaque screwed into the wall above it. Lester approached the artifact to read the plate. Engraved into the metal was a short message:
Come, spend an hour and visit with us.
"What do you suppose that means?" Lester said.
"You've clearly never played a point and click adventure," James replied. "It means turn over the hourglass."
"I think I understood half of that," Lester said, reaching out for one of the wooden rods that formed the hourglass housing.
Before his fingers made contact there was the sound of breaking glass from a room behind them. Lester withdrew his hand as if his fingers had been burned.
"It wasn't me!" he protested.
"No, and it wasn't me either," James said. "So that begs the question, who was it?"
"So, what?" Lester asked. "Am I turning the hourglass or not?"
"Not before we find out what that noise was," James said. "Come on let's go back."
Sighing, Lester turned away from the hourglass and went back into the body of the house. Crossing the kitchen and a corridor they found the source of the glass breakage. Lying on the floor, surrounded by broken glass and tangled up with the snapped shaft of a broomstick was a figure James recognised instantly.
"You!" James said to the gnome. "What are you doing here?"
The gnome looked a little confused, he turned his head to the left and to the right trying to get his bearings.
"Oh," it said. "It's you, the nervous mouse."
"Yes," James said. "The nervous mouse. So how come you're here in this mysterious house."
"Well," the gnome said. "I'm always only allowed to travel within a certain range of either you or the little girl who made the wish," the gnome said. "For a while there you were separated by a vast distance, but now you're not. I think this broomstick has brought me back to within an acceptable proximity of both of you."
"You mean," James said breathlessly, "that Rachel is nearby?"
"Must be," the gnome said. "About as close as I was brought to you. I think this broomstick was from The Office. I don't like those guys. They're bossy."
"She's here!" James rejoiced, "she's within about thirty feet of where the gnome landed. Lester, we've got to find her, now."
"I got the message," Lester said.
The three of them ran around the house and out into the grounds surrounding it calling out Rachel's name. There was still no sign of her. They stood in the garden of the house, beside a neatly tended garden, outside the window the gnome's broom had crashed through and looked around hopelessly.
"I don't understand," James complained. "Your magic is broken," he addressed the gnome.
"Impossible," the gnome said. "There are few things in the world which are properly impossible but for my magic to be broken in this instance is one of them."
"Then where is she?" James asked.
"Hey," Lester said. "What's this?"
"Is it another hourglass?" James asked.
Lester wandered away from the house down onto the lawn and across to a simple stone sundial mounted on a column. A parcel was sitting on the dial face, wrapped in brown paper, tied up with red string.
"That's funny," Lester said. "This looks like one of the packages that... oh."
Lester picked up the parcel. Printed on it in neat block capitals was:
FAO LESTER TOPPING
"This is identical to the packages my brother used to send home," Lester said. "Absolutely identical."
"Well, but-" James was about to object to Lester enthusiastically untying the package but having just had a brush with fresh hope himself he checked his skepticism for the moment.
Inside the package was a small bottle of yellow liquid and a note. Lester opened the note and read it out:
"'Dearest Brother'." He paused and smiled. "That's me, oh wow, this is incredible," Lester paused again before continuing to read. "'I'm afraid I am short on time so must be brief. Keep the potion safe, you will know when you need to use it. Turn the hourglass in the pantry and continue on your journey. I will make contact again when the weave permits. Your Loving Brother, Chester Topping Esquire.'"
James looked up into Lester's face, the young man's eyes shining with tears.
"Well," James said. "Are we going to do it? Turn the hourglass?"
"Of course," Lester said. "If Chester said to do it then we have to."
So they did, but what happened next is a story for another time.
Sunday, 17 March 2013
Avan Weatherstrong In The Land Of Frogfellow
 |
| ...a cone of orange light issued from the gem. This must be the dragon magic Frederick had warned him about. |
The land of Frogfellow used to lie in one of the outlying regions of the shadow realms. As we all know these places are rich in magic and, for this reason, they have a short life expectancy as kingdoms go.
Frogfellow was a classic example of a far shadow kingdom. It sprung up almost overnight, as if it had simply been dreamed into existence. This is, in all probability, too close to the truth of the matter to be quite comfortable for most of us. The kind and wise Lord Frogfellow ruled over his land. He was a man so generous and good-hearted that no one ever mentioned how closely he resembled the amphibian for which he was named.
A wide mouth, flat nose, big eyes and green pigmentation afflicted all the older Frogfellows. It stopped short of being too great of a burden upon his children. In fact the two princes and the three princesses that Lord Frogfellow called his children were bonnie and blithe. So much so that a churlish commentator may have called into question their parentage.
The thing about dreams, and the far shadows is that they are quite closely associated. The far shadows, the fringes of the weave, are reality's sketchpad. A kingdom of frog-people was the least of the wonders that could be observed there.
The delightful shadow kingdoms present attractive targets for conquest. Usually they catch the eye of some mean-spirited warlord or unpleasant sorcerer. This is because they esxist along seams of pure magical energy. They shape the mischief, solidifying it.
The more and more unstable reality becomes, the purer and more powerful the magic available to be harnessed. The down side of this is that in these places it is possible to have an unfortunate and fatal accident. At the edges the unwary are consumed by the crucible of all creation with worrying ease.
Most practitioners of magic like to settle in the middle shadows where magic is so controllable as to be almost boring. The edge places are for the wild, the dangerous, the insane and the foolhardy. Such an individual was Seditas Wolfjaw.
One could add to Wolfjaw's list of undesirable personal qualities selfishness, gluttony and sloth. A sorcerer of no little notoriety Wolfjaw was on a perpetual quest for the next big score. Like many sorcerers he had turned his eye to the Far Shadows. He sought out a relative island of peace in the chaos and his eye settled on Frogfellow. Filled with dire confidence he rolled in on the attack.
If truth be told Frogfellow did not put up much of a fight. It was a small kingdom. As such it had concentrated on mercantile prosperity as its priority. It was a leader in the manufacture of waterproof textiles and vegetarian foodstuffs. The palace had staff, including a guard, but no real army. A single wicked sorcerer with enough power to do real damage could stride in to little opposition. It was a minor working to turn the entire royal family into proper frogs.
Seditas Wolfjaw took control of Frogfellow. Its happy citizens were quickly chained up and put to work as slaves. The major industry of Frogfellow became the production of high price magical ingredients. The type used in powerful dark magic potions, tinctures and philtres. To this day genuine Frogfellow pickled amphibian eyes attract prices of 10,000 gold pieces a jar. This is nothing to be proud of but can still give a goblin merchant the vapours.
However, no amount of gold could justify the suffering of an entire kingdom. It was only a matter of time before the weave delivered a hero to liberate the good people of Frogfellow from the evil oppressor.
Such a hero came in the shape of Avan Weatherstrong. It is not clear whether he was travelling outward toward the edges or inward away from them. Whichever way he was going the brave and wise prince had travelled far and wide since leaving his family home. He had already dealt with a good deal of darkness along the way.
Hearing stories of Frogfellow's unfortunate fate Avan Weatherstrong determined to help if he could. He arrived in Frogfellow early one morning. The prince rode his horse through the empty streets of the capital city towards the royal palace.
He was disturbed to find that, although there were many frogs hopping about in the palace, there was no sign of Seditas Wolfjaw. Avan Weatherstrong had assumed the evil sorcerer would live in the royal chambers after his victory. Instead the palace was full of pond life but there was no sign of wicked magical practitioners.
Avan knew that if he did not locate Seditas Wolfjaw in daylight he would have to leave disappointed. At night an evil sorcerer's power grew to its zenith. Daylight weakens dark magic considerably.
The prince searched the palace for any sign or clue indicating where he could find Wolfjaw but none was in evidence. As the day grew towards noon Avan sat upon the edge of the fountain that formed the palace garden's centrepiece and sighed.
"I don't know Marvel," he said to his horse. "I thought that finding Seditas Wolfjaw would be the least difficult part of this quest. This is turning out to be trickier than I thought."
If Marvel had any thoughts on the matter then we shall never know them. As Avan Weatherstrong finished speaking, a young man and a gnome fell into the fountain behind him with a mighty splash. The pair were locked in hand to hand combat as they hit the surface of the pond.
The impact, wave of water and frenetic energy of the fighters was enough to cause Avan to leap up in surprise. A tide of startled frogs exited the fountain and hopped off in every direction.
The soaking brought the fight to a stop before Avan had to wade in and pull the pair apart. The young man and the gnome sat breathless, water dripping from their noses and looked about them in amazement.
"Where are we?" the young man asked.
"I told you not to tweak my nose!" the gnome complained. "I'm not aligned yet, serious chaos magic. Mischief, I tell you, mischief."
"If you didn't want your nose tweaked," the young man complained, "then why did you sign up for cage fighting?"
"Are you saying that I can't partake in whatever activity I would choose to because of my inherited traits?" the gnome asked. "Because I think you'll find that's discrimination."
Avan Weatherstrong felt that the argument had the potential to continue indefinitely if he didn't weigh in. He cleared his throat. The boy and the gnome looked up at him, surprised expressions on their faces, as if they had not noticed the prince before.
"Oh," the young man said. "Hello."
"Yes," the gnome said. "Greetings. Apologies for the rude maner of our entrance but _somebody_ finds it hard to follow simple instructions." The gnome glared in the young man's direction.
"How was I supposed to know?" the young man complained. "If you had said something like: 'Please don't tweak my nose. It could result in sudden, inconvenient teleportation'. I might have listened more closely."
"_I_ didn't know what would happen, that's what chaos magic means," the gnome responded grumpily. "You are a very stupid boy."
"Knight!" the young man cried. "I am a knight. I have the scars to prove it."
"Would either of you like a hand out of the fountain?" Avan asked, loud and firm enough to cut through the disagreeable atmosphere a second time.
The young man gratefully accepted a hand up. The gnome showed a stubborn independence, wriggling his way out of the fountain by himself. Once the two of them were back on dry land they sat in the noon sun and tried to dry off.
"So, if you don't mind me asking," the young man said to Avan. "Where are we? And what's with all the frogs?"
"This is the kingdom of Frogfellow," Avan explained. "Unfortunately it is in the grip of a wicked sorcerer who has turned the royal family into frogs."
The young man knitted his brows, as if puzzled by something. He looked on the point of making a statement and then shook his head, changing his mind.
"Oh, okay," he said. "Something familiar about that but I can't quite remember it. I'm Frederick, uh, Sir Cobb, this here is, um, a gnome."
"Yes," the gnome said. "A gnome. I'm quite a new gnome, that's why I don't have a name yet."
"I am Avan" Avan said. "Pleased to meet you Sir Cobb and gnome. Could I ask how you ended up in the Frogfellow's fountain?"
"Well," the gnome said. "As I explained, I am quite a new gnome, not even three days old. As such I am quite brimful of chaos magic. My creator still hasn't reached the end of her wish, because she was fool enough to wish for 'an adventure'. If she'd wished for, I don't know, a palace full of frogs, for instance, we'd be done by now. I could have resolved myself into an elemental or something. As it is I have to remain dangerous and unstable until the wish has run its course."
"So you transported Sir Cobb and yourself here?" Avan asked.
"Not deliberately!" the gnome objected. "This idiot tweaked my nose, it's quite sensitive, my nose. I could tell that something would happen if he tweaked it. I told him not to."
"We were fighting in a cage match!" Sir Cobb objected. "Didn't you see the sign? 'No Holds Barred' that's not 'No Holds Barred Except For Nose Tweaking'."
"You were cage fighting?" Avan said hauling the conversation back on topic. "That, excuse me for saying, doesn't sound very knightly."
"Well, it's the world we live in," Sir Cobb shrugged. "I've rescued three maidens, killed a vampire and taken on a couple of lizard men. I also retrieved property from a bandit king but none of these jobs pay terrifically well. Being a knight these days isn't what you'd call a secure living. I have to supplement my income somehow, most major towns and cities have a cage arena. It's not my choice of activity but I won't be much use to anyone if I starve to death, will I?"
"I suppose not," Avan said. "I'm sorry to hear that you're having such a tough time of things, noble knight. I'm afraid that you may have found yourself in a little trouble. This kingdom is in thrall to an evil sorcerer. I had come here to face the villain but he is in hiding until nightfall. Unless I can find him I will have to retreat. You don't want to still be here after the sun goes down if I cannot defeat him."
For the second time Sir Cobb looked puzzled at Avan's words. He scratched his head, stood up and had a good look around.
"There's just something so... so... familiar about this," he said. "It's beginning to annoy me now."
"I'm afraid I cannot help you with that," Avan replied. "As I said, it would probably be best for you if you were just to leave. I must hunt for the sorcerer a little longer but I will have to abandon the search myself if I cannot find him."
"Well, I could help, it's kind of my sworn duty," Sir Cobb said. "Besides, I have nothing better to do for the time being. Perhaps, if we rescue this royal family they will hire me as a guard for my faithful service. That would certainly help with my reputation."
"It's your choice, good knight," Avan said. "But I will not lie to you this is a far shadow kingdom and magic here is powerful. I only consider myself worthy of the task laid before me because I know a little of the mystical path myself. You will have to follow my lead if you choose to stay."
Sir Cobb nodded.
"I understand," he said. "Then I shall do as you require, Sir Avan, and I will be pleased to fight at your side."
"Oh, terrific," the gnome said. "And what am I supposed to do? I have absolutely no desire to face off against an evil sorcerer. Between adventurous young ladies and nose-tweaking idiots, I almost wish chaos had never spit me out."
The gnome was so outraged he disappeared in a puff of light blue smoke. The vapour filled the air with the scent of cinammon.
"I didn't mean to tweak his nose," Sir Cobb said to Avan.
Avan just nodded.
"Come on then, Sir Cobb," the prince said, not wanting to risk those choppy conversational waters. "Let us be about our business."
"Oh, yes, of course," Sir Cobb agreed. "Where should we start? In the palace?"
"I have already searched the palace," said Avan, "there is no sign of the sorcerer in there."
"Oh, that's curious, isn't it?" Sir Cobb said. "You'd think he'd have got straight into the master bedroom with his feet up after he'd done his wicked work, wouldn't you?"
"Indeed I did," he replied. "Now I do not know where to go. The capital city here in Frogfellow is large, the alleys are numerous and narrow. Even with an extra pair of hands I cannot hope to cover the whole city in time."
"It is a pickle," Sir Cobb said. "What's the name of this fellow we're after anyway?"
"Seditas Wolfjaw," Avan told the young man.
Sir Cobb's mouth dropped open. He stared at Avan.
"Are you making some kind of a joke?" he asked.
"Why would I joke?"Avan asked, a little irritation slipping through in his tone.
"Because... well... " the young knight appeared to be lost for words. "What did you say your name was again?" he asked eventually.
"Avan," Avan replied. "Avan Weatherstrong." He paused, sighed and then said. "Prince Avan Weatherstrong, youngest son of the sixth Lord Weatherstrong."
Sir Cobb's eyes were like saucers, his jaw was slack. The news had been too much for the young man. He slumped, sitting on the edge of the fountain, looking at the floor.
"Tell me you're joking," he said eventually, not looking up from the floor. "Please tell me you are trying to make a fool of me."
"Why," Avan asked, running short of patience, "would I want to make a fool of you? I am Prince Avan Weatherstrong. What has that to do with you and whether or not you are a fool?"
"Because Avan Weatherstrong is in the old stories," Sir Cobb said hopelessly. "You're a legend. You're the main reason I ever wanted to become a knight in the first place."
Avan felt his own brow knitting. Thankfully, for both himself and Frederick, Prince Weatherstrong knew much of the world's strangeness. He knew of chaos magic, and gnomes. He was also wiser than to question the strangest stitches of the great weave, so he took this news in his stride.
"I am afraid that things are what they are, Sir Cobb," he said gently. "Sometimes the great weave winds threads into strange patterns."
"But... but..." Sir Cobb said, Avan could now see, with the lad close to tears, that Frederick was really little more than a boy. "I've not just travelled to a far away kingdom." The boy's voice was filled with despair. "I've fallen into the past. I've fallen into a story!"
"So it would appear," Avan said. "We had best make sure that the story has a happy ending."
"Oh," Frederick said, for a moment too surprised to be unhappy. "But it does! Well it did! I mean... I've ruined the story. I'm not in it, I mean, I wasn't in it. Although I am now."
"Tell me what happened," Avan said calmly. "In the story you heard."
"Well, it turns out that near to the capital city is a cave, an old dragon's lair, by a twisted tree. You find Seditas Wolfjaw has set up home there. He has trapped the dragon's soul within a jewel and a mighty battle ensues. You both unleash sorcerous power at one another in a mighty wizard's battle. You transform each other from form to form until you manage to transform Wolfjaw into a snake. You see, he has turned you into a mongoose, you snap his neck... At least, that's what the story said."
Avan smiled and sat down for a moment beside Frederick.
"I don't think that is what will happen today," Avan said. "I do not have the sorcery of transformation."
"Oh, sorry," Frederick said. "Have I messed everything up?"
"I did not have that power when I came here," Avan said. "I guess that by your time some... embellishments may have crept into the story. I do remember seeing a twisted tree as I approached the city, I guess that will help us find the sorcerer. If he has transformation sorcery then we shall have to be very careful in our approach."
And careful they were. With Frederick's help the two of them found the old dragon's lair and crept inside. The enormous cave system was dark and cold, not at all a welcoming home. Avan Weatherstong could sense the powerful magic that had infused the rock. He knew that Wolfjaw had made this his home for reasons other than comfort.
Deep within the twisted tunnels there was evidence of the sorcerer's presence. They found a smaller chamber that contained chairs and a table, along with other oddments. The bric-a-brac attempted to turn the damp cave into some sort of a home.
The cave was silent, there was no visible sign of the sorcerer. Avan could feel the presence of dark magic near at hand.
"It doesn't look like anyone's home," Sir Cobb said.
"Don't be so certain," Avan replied. "I can feel him, nearby, maybe even watching. Seditas Wolfjaw," Avan called out, "show yourself!"
"Two foolish knights," came the haughty tones of the sorcerer's voice. "I am honoured indeed to have such esteemed company in my humble abode on this day."
"He's wearing a cloak of invisibility," Avan told Frederick. "Pay close attention to anything. You can't see someone in one of those things but they still have an effect on the things around them."
"Usually true," Seditas Wolfjaw replied. His voice echoed around the cavern, appearing to surround them. "Except when the wearer can also fly!"
There was a swishing noise and something hard struck Avan in the chest. The force picked him off the floor and carried him backwards into a wall. He struck the wall hard and felt the wind leave his chest. He fell dazed to the floor wreathed in the sound of Seditas Wolfjaw's wicked laughter.
"Ah, knights, a diversion for a sorcerer such as I," Wolfjaw crowed. "You shall die today, but it is no shame to fall before one as mighty as Seditas Wolfjaw."
"Frederick!" Avan called out pulling a small glass ball from his pack. "Breath in deep and hold it, until you can see me again."
He threw the ball at the floor and it shattered, filling the room with a thick white smoke. Avan took his own advice inhaling before the ball landed. He hoped that Frederick was good at following orders. He thought it was only the sorcerer he could hear hacking and coughing his way through the billowing clouds.
As visibility was restored there were three figures revealed, all covered in a thin coating of white dust. Avan's smoke bomb had the side effect of covering things this way when deployed in close quarters. Avan drew his sword and ran at Seditas Wolfjaw.
"Do not presume!" Wolfjaw shouted. The sorcerer lifted his arm. Clutched in his right hand was an enormous cut gem. He pointed the gem in Avan's direction. A cone of orange light burst forth, forcing Avan to dodge at the last moment. This must be the dragon magic Frederick had warned him about.
The battle was still one-sided. Even though Wolfjaw was now visible the gem's transformation magic beam appeared to have no limit to its power. Wolfjaw just fired repeatedly not allowing Avan to find his feet. Eventually Avan realised he would tire, and then he would fall to the sorcerer's magic.
As he dodged and rolled, trying to prevent himself from ending up as a mouse or a housefly Avan saw Frederick. The boy snuck up behind the sorcerer clutching something in his hands. Wolfjaw appeared to have forgotten him.
Avan wanted to warn the young man back but that would be too dangerous. He just had to trust that the boy knew what he was doing. Maybe he could try to give him a hand.
"You will not defeat me, Seditas Wolfjaw!" Avan called. "It is only a matter of time before your fate is sealed."
The sorcerer appeared to be the type of egotistical buffoon who would have to respond to such taunts. Never was this more true than when he appeared to have total victory within his grasp.
"Bold words, coming from a man so close to exhaustion," the sorcerer said. "Let's see how bold your words come out when I have turned you into a lap cat!"
No one got to find out what kind of lap cat Avan Weatherstrong would have made. At that moment Frederick flipped the object in his hands over Seditas Wolfjaw's head. It was a flat gold disc, a frame around some sort of picture or...
Seditas Wolfjaw sensed movement above his head, he looked up and gasped in horror.
"My mirror!" he screamed out, it was the last thing he screamed before his body was consumed within the frame of a holding mirror. It landed, face down, on the floor of the cave, Seditas Wolfjaw trapped inside.
"I, uh, have seen that kind of mirror before," Sir Cobb said. "I thought it might help out."
Avan Weatherstrong, out of breath from jumping and rolling, gave Sir Cobb a sweaty grin.
"You, sir knight," he said to the young boy, "are far more than you appear to be. Come on Sir Frederick Cobb. You are adrift from your own days, you have saved my life and I should see you safely home."
And that Avan Weatherstrong did, after a few more adventures but these are stories for another day.
Sunday, 3 March 2013
Why Tabarnas Had To Rehome An Owl
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| Tabarnas, Rachel and Micras were looking down on a toy castle. |
"So that's it, is it?" Rachel asked, her tone was harsh. "You're just going to make her produce rainbow grease for you, like a slave?"
Tabarnas jumped. He had been wondering how on earth he was going to find Rachel. It was job enough to locate stock that didn't move in the stacks. How one was supposed to find a lost and frightened little girl was a problem he had not even begun to consider the answer to.
"Oh, young lady," Tabarnas said. "You mustn't sneak up on old people like that, I might have had a heart attack or something."
"Would have served you right if you had you mean old slave driver," Rachel replied. "I thought you were nice."
"I don't know where you got that idea from," Tabarnas said. "I'm a goblin merchant, as a breed we're not noted for our bon homie."
"Your what?"
"Er, sorry, foreign words trip from my tongue. I speak business in every language, you see... Because I'm a merchant, not a slave driver, a merchant."
"So you're going to let the mermaid go?" Rachel asked.
"I'm not going to 'let' her do anything, she's her own fish person, she is mistress of her own destiny."
"Well, good," Rachel said. "I knew you wouldn't be a big old meanie about it. So how are we going to help her?"
"Help her?" Tabarnas asked, a puzzled look upon his face. "We? Young lady-"
"Rachel," Rachel interrupted him.
"Rachel," Tabarnas said. "You seem to be the victim of a misunderstanding. Firstly, 'we' are not, uh, 'we'. There is you and there is me. That is how things work in the market. Secondly, and for the very same reason, I am not helping anyone. I will render services in exchange for remuneration, of course. But if I went around doing things out of some fuzzy headed do-gooder notion that wouldn't make me a good merchant now, would it?"
"You told me a story, that was nice," Rachel pointed out.
"You didn't enjoy it much, as I recall," Tabarnas replied.
"It was a nicer thing to do than standing around here being a nasty old grumpy guts like you're being now," Rachel said.
"Has anyone ever told you that you are impossible?" Tabarnas asked her.
"Only James and..." Rachel ran to a stop. "Oh! James! Did you rescue James?"
"Ah, now, there was a small problem..." Tabarnas began but it was too late, Rachel had begun to cry.
"Oh no," she said. "James, you lost James. This is all your fault!"
"Now I think that's a little unfair-"
"No, you're right..." Rachel said.
"Well, I'm glad-"
"It's all my fault, me and my stupid wish!" Rachel sat on Tabarnas's step stool and dissolved into floods of tears.
Tabarnas didn't know what to do or how to feel. He had been a goblin merchant his entire long life, over half a millennium at this moment. He bought, he sold, he bartered, he did stock taking, accounts ledgers and paid his dues to the Merchant's Guild. The only thing that Tabarnas did that was not the action of a goblin merchant was collect as many amusing stories as he could. He packed them into the corners of his brain that were not occupied with matters of trade.
Being confronted with a disconsolate little girl who had lost her talking mouse was not a situation that he had any idea how to remedy. He wondered if Cressie would be able to do any better. He swiftly came to the conclusion that, in fact, she would in all probability make things worse rather than better. Cressie had no spare corners in her mind, the whole mind was merchant from top to bottom.
Before Tabarnas could unpick the predicament any further matters were taken out of his hands. The soft and lilting sound of a beautiful melody washed over the small yard between the tents on the pitch. The song had no words but appeared to be, at one and the same time, choral and coming from a single throat. The song was soothing as it was beautiful and came from the throat of Teleosti, the mermaid.
Rachel stopped sobbing and looked up at the mermaid in wonder. For just a moment the thrust and bustle of the market appeared to recede and a placid atmosphere of calm came over the scene.
The song ended and Teleosti smiled down at Rachel. Rachel stood and went over to the mermaid's tank.
"Your voice," Rachel said. "It's so beautiful."
"Thank you," the mermaid replied. "So are the feelings of love you have for James. I can only sing a song so beautiful when something pure and joyful inspires me."
"Oh, you mean I..." Rachel couldn't finish what she was trying to say.
"I was singing your love for James, Rachel," the mermaid said. "That should keep you strong while you find him again."
"Oh it will, it will!" Rachel said. "Thank you so much... oh, I don't know your name."
"I am called Teleosti," the mermaid said. "But my friends call me Eos, you may call me that, if you would like to. I haven't made any new friends since I began the quest to find my people's lost treasure, so a new one would cheer me up right now."
"Oh, yes, of course Eos, we can be friends, of course! I've never been friends with anyone but James and now I have two new friends in one day, Eos and Tabarnas."
"Ah..." Tabarnas said. He felt that it was incumbent upon him to point out, once again, that he was a goblin merchant. For which reason he did not have friends, only customers.
Rachel and Eos looked over to him, both appeared much happier than they had been for the entire rest of the afternoon. Tabarnas saw no business value in ruining a good mood, indeed bad moods were well known to sour business.
"The market will be closing soon," Tabarnas said. "I suppose, Rachel, that we had better find somewhere for you to stay."
"I thought you didn't help people unless it was for money," Rachel said, a smirk at the corner of her mouth.
"We can... work something out... in the morning," Tabarnas said. "First of all we had better tell Cressie. I don't think you will find her to be as soft a negotiator but we can hardly hide you away from her now, can we?"
"I suppose not," Rachel said. She did not sound like she was looking forward to meeting Cressidia again, which marked her out as something of a wise child.
The two of them stepped towards the flap at the rear of the stall. Before they could go inside the fluttering shape of a glowing white owl flapped out of the stacks. It flew over to land on the edge of Eos's tank.
"Hooo! Thought you could get away from me did you, vandal!" the owl said to Rachel. "Well, no such luck, my head rotates all the way round and my eyes can spot a mouse three miles away."
"So," Rachel said. "If James is less than three miles away, you'll be able to spot him. Oh, but you're not to eat him."
"Whooo is James?" the owl said. "And why would I find anyone for you? You uncouth child!"
"Nobody in this place is very polite or particularly nice," Rachel complained. "Except for you Eos, and you're not from around here originally."
"Why should I be nice to the person who destroyed my home?" the owl asked.
"I did no such thing!" Rachel objected. "I've never even seen your smelly home. I wouldn't destroy it anyway."
"Oh no?" the owl shot back. "Not even when your good friend the gnome pointed out that you could get outside instantly if you just damaged some stock?"
"Oh! No!" Rachel said, her hands flying up to cover her mouth. "You were inside that doll's house?"
"It was not just a doll's house, I will have you know," the owl said. "It was a genuine _haunted_ doll's house, you tipped it onto the floor as if it didn't even matter."
"You did what?" Tabarnas cried. Until now he had been too confused by the owl flapping about to put the whole thing together. The understanding that this troublesome little girl had cost him stock sparked outrage in his heart. Add to this the fact that the item was an authentic haunted doll's house and the outrage almost grew greater than he could bear.
"I got lost, in your stupid stacks," Rachel said, unrepentant petulance written across her face. "The gnome came back and reminded me about the anti-vandal charm that set the troll loose. I just thought it was a doll's house."
"But... it was... haunted..." Tabarnas said, his head was spinning, it was his turn to sit on the step stool.
"You've still got the ghost," Rachel said. "Although, if you sell him we're back to slavery again. I am surprised at you, Tabarnas, I thought you were just a merchant."
"I knew it was haunted," Tabarnas said. "I didn't know what by, the thing was only a foot and a half tall and it had three floors."
"I was for sale!?" the owl objected. "Micras Whitney is not for sale to anyone, at any price, dead or alive," it announced. Then, more quietly: "In this case, decidedly dead."
"Well, looks like I did you a favour," Rachel said. "If you'd sold that haunted doll's house you would have sold Micras along with it, and that would have been bad karma."
"Bad what?" Tabarnas asked.
"Karma," Rachel said. "James told me about it, it means if you do bad stuff then bad stuff happens to you."
"But I wouldn't have known," Tabarnas said. "Apparently neither would the owl."
"It is true that I had become very comfortable in my lodgings," Micras agreed. "But this is no excuse to sell them. And me along with them."
"I don't even remember where we got the silly thing," Tabarnas grumbled. "Probably in one of Cressie's job lot acquisitions. Sorry for the inconvenience everybody."
Tabarnas most certainly did not mean that last sentence, and he knew that everyone present knew that he didn't either. He didn't care.
"Well, it looks like now you've got to find three of us somewhere to stay," Rachel said. "Me, Eos and now Micras as well. You should be more careful about what you keep in your stock room. Magic mirrors full of trolls, haunted doll's houses. Who else do you have back there that you don't even know about?"
"Look!" Tabarnas said, tapping his cane upon the ground sharply. "This is Riseandshine and Titsadaisy Goblin Merchants. It is not Riseandshine and Titsadaisy Flop House and Mission For The Dispossessed. I think I've just about had quite enough for today."
"Well, the sooner we rehouse Micras and find me a bed the sooner we can get on with tomorrow," Rachel said brightly. "I'm sure tomorrow will be better. Besides it can't be that hard, you must have another doll's house somewhere in that stock room, it's massive."
"Not that I know of..." Tabarnas said, thinking hard. He had to admit that the child was talking sense. If they could re-haunt something else then the ghost owl would be happy. They could finally put this awful Tuesday behind them and move on.
A memory resurfaced from the story telling parts of Tabarnas's mind. The memory's subject happened to cross reference with a stock item so it was close to hand. Tabarnas could remember almost every item of stock attached to a story.
"I think I have the place, just the place," Tabarnas said. "A curiosity that I am not intending to sell and it will be just the thing."
"I'll be the judge of that," Micras said. "But very well."
"The best part is that I think we'll be able to give Rachel a bed in the same place. Maybe we can talk to Cressie about the whole thing when she's in a better mood."
Tabarnas could tell that no one who had met Cressidia would possibly have held out any hope of her being in a better mood ever. Right now there were more pressing matters to deal with so nobody said anything.
"Now, before we go in," Tabarnas said to Rachel, "you just remember to stick by my side in the stacks. I can't have you junking stock because you keep getting lost."
"I'm sorry Tabarnas," Rachel said. "It won't happen again."
"You see that it doesn't," Tabarnas said as they made their way into the stall. They ducked through the gap in the display shelves that formed the entrance to the stacks. "We're already in enough trouble as it stands."
"I thought there was no 'we'," Rachel said. Tabarnas was dismayed to see the return of the insufferable smirk to the girl's face. "I thought," she continued uneccessarily and with far too much smugness, "that there was just 'you' and 'me'."
"Yes, well," Tabarnas said. "We will definitely be having a conversation about the matter in the morning for now... where was the blasted thing? Let me think, second right, third left. Behind the storage bin for winged sandals and other lightly enchanted footwear, yes, here it is."
Tabarnas, Rachel and Micras were looking down on a toy castle. The model was remarkably detailed, not to say quite odd. The castle had a rounded wall, a gatehouse, a traditional wizarding tower, a grand hall and a few outbuildings. In the courtyard an intricate and beautiful model garden had been created. From the tallest point of the main building a metal pin carried a red flag bearing the device of a frog wearing a crown.
"There is a most fascinating story about the castle upon which this model is based," Tabarnas said proudly. "It's another story of the great prince Avan Weatherstrong. You see, he was travelling in a far away land. One where the entire ruling family found themselves transformed. Turned into frogs by the evil sorcerer..."
"Tabarnas," Rachel said. "Another time. Right now, this looks fine for Micras, if he likes it." She looked up at the owl.
"It will do," the ghost said not committing to anything.
"I don't see what it does for me, though," Rachel said.
"Ah, well, you see, that's where you fail to understand the precise nature of the artifact. Now, do as I do, carefully."
Tabarnas put his finger onto the top of the flag pole and intoned:
"In the name of the Grand Frogfellow Clan, bid me entry to this monument erected in your honour. Created so that none would forget the acts of Seditas Wolfjaw until this world should end."
Tabarnas loved the strange falling sensation, the tingle of well-applied sorcery accompanying the transition. Whenever a new volume of collected stories came into his possession he would make his way to the garden of the model Caer Frogfellow. This was where he would secret himself away to read.
He knew that Cressie would take a dim view of such activities. So, he had concealed the model carefully in a part of the stacks reserved for the storage of low value unsaleable tat.
Tabarnas did not have much of a chance to feel clever about what he had done because within moments Rachel was at his side in the garden. Micras, being a ghost, didn't need the model's magic to transfer scale.
"Impressive, don't you think?" Tabarnas beamed, positively glowing with pride. "You are now standing in my favourite item in the whole world."
The model garden was stunning in its detail. The ponds were made of polished glass and the hedges crafted from tiny pieces of wood. Each bore a mark indicating they had been hand carved by pixie workmen. The castle was a remarkable piece of work.
The large frog statue mounted on a pedestal in the central fountain was perfect in every detail. The giant frog's right leg draped across a recumbent wolf. The symbol of Frogfellow's eventual victory over the sorcerer Seditas Wolfjaw. It was one of Tabarnas's favourite stories and he burned to tell it right away.
"If you're thinking of launching into a story," Rachel said, gauging his mood perfectly, "don't. I've had a long day and I need some sleep. I assume you're going to tell me that the castle is an exact replica inside, so I will be able to find a bed."
Tabarnas deflated.
"Yes, just so," he said. "It really is a fine story, the tale of How Avan Weatherstrong Defeated Seditas Wolfjaw."
"The last story you told me about that prince he was fighting a wolf," Rachel said. "One wolf story in a day is quite enough."
"He wasn't a wolf," Tabarnas complained. "He was a sorcerer, he just happened to be called Wolfjaw, it's just a surname, like Riseandshine. I'm called Riseandshine, I'm not the sun."
"So, once I've slept and I want to leave," Rachel said, ignoring Tabarnas's hope that she would allow him to tell the story. "How do I manage that?"
"Just curtsy to the frog statue and thank him warmly for his hospitality," Tabarnas explained. "I bow because I'm a man, women curtsy."
"What if I want to bow?" Rachel said.
"Do what you like," Tabarnas said, irritable that his storytelling ambition had been thwarted. "It'll work or it won't."
"There's no need-" Rachel began but she got no further.
"Tabarnaaaaas!" the greatly amplified and terrifying voice of Cressidia rang out. From their low position it sounded like the mighty battle cry of an enraged giant. "There's a market keeper here to see you, something about a troll and property damage."
"Oh, fiddlesticks!" Tabarnas said feeling his heart sink in his chest.
"Looks like you'd better thank the frog for his hospitality," Rachel said. "And I'll see you in the morning."
Which she did, at which point there were more problems to solve, but those are the subject of another day's tale.
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