Alright D'Shai time to... What in shaolin are you doing?
Uh, its called reading... a book.
I can see that, smartypants. What exactly are you reading and why don't I see the usual pop-ups?
I graduated to words, but Dick and Jane are boring. Spot has potential, besides this one has glossy photos. Its called... What's this word?
"A."
Oh, its called "A History Guide to Dayton Ohio."
How wonderful. Didn't you go over that kind of thing in elementary... Oh, never mind. Dropout.
No way, I was drafted. Anyway there are a lot of interesting facts in this book.
I'm going to hate myself in the morning for this... Like what?
Well like page 3 for instance says that this is the birthplace of flight.
Some people might disagree with that (Hi, Rel!), but that's pretty well known. Anything, well, obscure?
Well, you know the man who invented post it notes?
Which one, Art Fry or Spencer Silver?
...
Well?
Neither one ever lived in Dayton.
Astonishing.
Well how about this fact on page 527, "Dayton is the home of the Estevez family."
Like Emilio?
And his father Martin.
The guy on West Wing? Cool. What about his brother?
Doesn't say. Well here's the Tip of the Day. "If you can dodge a wrench, you can dodge a ball."
Didn't we already talk about using movie quotes for the Tip of the Day?
Allright, allright: "If you use a gag often enough it becomes funny."
Whatever
that might mean...
*****
"Barrel is to Monkeys as _____ is to Kobolds:
A. Hat*
B. Sword
C. Murder
D. Sword (I like swords)
E. Sword-chucks
*(of 02 know no limit!)
***
Theo frowned involuntarily as he and his friends approached a pair of competent looking dwarf guards flanking the base of the stone path leading up to the keep. So far, their ‘escort’ of hooting and yipping kobolds had stopped them from receiving any real interrogation about their business with their master, but the weathered priest didn’t believe for a moment that the unruly mob would stay unruly if Meepo continued to follow Aurora. The crowd had already proved cowardly on one occasion, and with the effect that the little Dragon Keeper had on his kin gone, he supposed that it wouldn’t be long before the dwarven overseers moved in to break it up.
“Do you think this will work, Ander?” he asked the woodsman who walked lightly beside him.
“It’s got to. I’m out of ideas.”
“How encouraging,” Ashrem hissed from behind the two men.
Theo ignored the sour remark. “Well this one seems to be working well enough, lad,” he said, clapping the younger man on the shoulder. “Meepo’s mob has gotten us far enough that I think we can handle it from here.”
“Brother Theo, ‘here’ has arrived,” said the feloine from behind. “This ‘mob’ has begun scattering already.”
A quick look by the priest proved the scout right: the crowd of kobolds had thinned considerably, and he could see more of the mob deserting as they closed on the keep. As if sensing that their escort might abandon them completely before the companions could make it to the rocky foundation, Ander quickened his pace, leaving Theo hard pressed to keep up with the young man’s longer stride.
“Aurora,” the woodsman called toward the young woman, who walked side by side with Meepo a half dozen paces in front of the priest, “rein in Meepo during this one. I don’t want a repeat of the first time he talked with the dwarves when we’re this close to the Master. He’s been good so far…”
The little kobold stopped in his tracks and turned toward the young man, his eyes wide. He pointed at his chest. “Meepo good?”
For a moment the group halted in shock. Theo broke the relative silence all the while staring at the kobold, “When did our little friend learn to speak the King’s Speech, Aurora?”
“I… I don’t know, Theo. He’s never said anything in Torian to me before!”
“Well he certainly has now, lass.”
“We have not the time to discuss newfound linguistic capabilities at this juncture,” growled Ashrem. “One of the guards is coming to investigate.”
Theo looked up in time to see one of the two dwarven guards posted at the path to the keep trundling toward them, calling out in its grinding voice. Meepo bounded out to meet him, growling in what Theo assumed to be the dwarven tongue.
For long moments, kobold and dwarf babbled back and forth, until Aurora said, “We might have some trouble. I think the dwarves want some proof that we are who we say we are.”
“How are we going to do that?” asked Pack from below.
Aurora answered, “Meepo’s been telling them we’re from the south – I think that the dwarves think we’re claiming to be the ones we fought right before we fought the tree.”
“What did Balsag say about them?” Pack said, as if trying to remember something just on the edge of his memory, “Oh right! He said that Belak, Erth and some other had come down to ‘find out why the kobolds were behind schedule in getting their master sap from the demon tree.’” The bard spoke the last with a harsh growl, as if imitating the bugbear’s guttural voice.
“Good,” said Ander. “Aurora, have Meepo tell them we have the sap. That should get us through.”
Theo watched as Aurora moved toward the arguing dwarf and kobold. Meepo broke away from the conversation with a gesture, and ran to meet the sorceress. After a quick conversation, both returned to their respective places. “Meepo already told them we have the sap. The problem is that the dwarf wants to see it, and won’t take no for an answer. Meepo’s been trying to tell him that only the Master can see it, but the dwarf won’t budge.”
“Like Durnan after you hide his wooden leg when he’s taking a nap?” asked Pack.
Theo chuckled despite himself, “Probably more like Abil when a farmer asks for a tax extension.” The priest ruffled the small bard’s hair. “And as I recall, the good shopkeep caught you despite hopping on one leg.”
“In any event, our ‘well laid plan’ seems on the verge of collapse,” Ashrem huffed as he glanced around. For a moment, Theo thought that the feloine was looking for other guards he might have to kill:
so refined, yet so bloodthirsty. Reminds me of some of the ‘nobility’ back in Tor…
“Maybe I’ve got something we could use,” Pack said, as he shrugged off his rucksack and began rummaging. Theo and his young friends crowded around the halfling as he did so, shielding his actions from prying eyes. One of Pack’s hands flew up holding one of Wishbone’s Brews, “does this look like tree sap to you?”
“No,” said Ander from Theo’s left. “Needs to be thicker. Anyone else got anything like that?”
“I might,” said Theo. His hand dropped to his belt pouch and he fished out a small jar of black, brackish liquid.
“What’s that?” Pack asked making a face.
“Liniment,” Theo said. “For my knees.” He waited a moment as his younger companions stared at him. “For when it rains!” A moment more passed. “Well, will it work or not?”
“Oh, yes. It’ll work,” Ander said, obviously holding back a tiny snicker.
“Don’t laugh, lad. You should be so lucky when you’re my age as to only have your bones creak during a rain shower.” Theo stepped forward and held up the jar. When he did, Meepo shouted and hopped, pointing back at the priest as if to say ‘I told you so’.
When he saw the black sludge of the jar, the dwarf waved the companions forward and then through his makeshift checkpoint. And while both guards gave Theo and his friends a hard look as they passed, neither of them did more.
Theo and his friends played the same scene two more times on their way up the rocky pathway that circled the base of the keep: each time Theo produced the jar the guards waved them past until they reached the gates of the keep proper. There the priest saw four more rough looking dwarves and he reached for the jar, but before he could produce it the guards parted as yet another dwarf, this one dressed in what looked to Theo as the robes of a clerk of some sort, walked out from the gate.
Meepo approached this clerk and began babbling in dwarf speech. Theo expected to have to go through the motions of producing the ‘sap’, but after only a few words, the clerk motioned for the group to follow as he moved quickly back into the keep. Meepo lagged behind him long enough to whisper to Aurora and then scampered after the dwarf.
While they moved after the clerk, Aurora whispered to the group, “Meepo says we’re being taken to the Master. He says he was told the Master was expecting us.”
“That does not bode well,” said Ashrem in near silent tones.
“You have that right, friend,” said Theo, trying to be quiet as well. From the look on both Ander’s and Ashrem’s faces he had to assume that he hadn’t succeeded.
“We’ve got company,” Ander said. His voice matched the feloine’s when he spoke. “Guards coming from left and right.
Theo glanced from side to side, and was greeted by the sight of a pair of well armed dwarven guards coming in to flank them from either side. They wielded halberds, and looked like they were familiar with their use, but instead of attacking, they took up escort positions in front of and behind the group. Together, the caravan moved through the torch and moss lit keep: a reception hall, a banquet hall, and a library that had a spiral staircase.
Theo looked around as he moved. While the halls were pristine – he supposed they might have never been used - the library looked ‘lived in’. Books were strewn about the tables and well padded chairs, and desks lit by candlelight were covered by papers of all sorts. Theo noticed a strange yet familiar smell about the place, something that tugged disturbingly at him from long ago, but before he could place it the train of friends and dwarves had passed through the chamber and into a stairwell that led up, then down, and then up again.
Flight after flight of stairs disappeared under Theo’s heavy stride until the priest lost count of the doorways they passed.
I hope someone is getting all this, he thought,
a man could get lost in here. Then suddenly, the stairwell ended at a brace of huge stone doors. The doors were intricately carved with sigils and glyphs unfamiliar to the old man, though they filled him with the same sense of disquiet that the library had.
The guards took up positions on either side, while the clerk faced the door, opened his arms, and spoke softly, “
Baa-ramyu!” The door groaned for a moment, as if in protest, and began to open, stone grinding on stone. Theo mouthed the clerk’s word silently, committing it to memory.
The dwarven clerk stood aside and motioned the group into the chamber beyond with a bow. Almost unthinkingly, Theo led the way into the well lit chamber beyond, his mouth slightly agape at the sights inside.
The square room’s smooth stone walls and ceiling were polished to a glossy charlie sheen and lit with alternating braziers and patches of moss placed evenly throughout. The floor was equally polished, though its stones, each easily one of Theo’s double paces wide, alternated between white and black in a gameboard pattern. In the back of the room a small alcove, complete with an open curtain, stood empty save for a waist high table and a set of what looked like brackets or hanging rods sticking out from the wall. Along every wall were tables, desks, and benches full of loose parchment, scrolls, books, vials, basins, and flasks. It looked every bit the wizard’s sanctum, as if pulled directly from every tale Theo had heard as a child.
Hunched over one of these tables sat a bent, robed, and hooded figure. “
Baa-ramyu!” it said in a voice nearly as deep as Theo’s own, and the stone doors closed behind the company. Uncomfortable moments passed as the stone hinges ground, until the door finally closed with an audible click. “I have watched you since you have come to my city,” the figure said in perfect Torian while continuing its work, “and I understand you claim to have something that belongs to me. Is this true?”
Ander traded concerned glances with Theo, until the older man moved his head ever so slightly,
As good you as anyone, lad.
“We have the sap,” Ander lied.
The figure, the Master, stopped whatever work it had in front of it, but did not turn. “And from that I must assume that Belak is dead. That would be the only way that fool would fail me.”
“Belak is dead,” Ander answered, “as are his twig beasts.”
“Twig beasts? Interesting…” The Master paused for a moment. “I suppose you’ll want Belak’s payment as well?”
“No, we want double.” Ander held out an empty hand toward Theo, and the priest deposited the jar in his olive skinned palm. “Otherwise you don’t get your sap.” As the jar changed hands, the older man caught a look of barely contained panic in the eyes of the woodsman.
The Master turned, “Then let us finish this business so that I may get back to work.” He moved slowly toward the group and let drop his hood. “One thousand gold coins, of various minting. Agreed?”
Theo heard the jar crash to the ground as the woodsman let it slip from his fingers while Aurora gasped and Ashrem growled. Pack, for once had been struck speechless.
Theo stared daggers at the Master’s eyes. Eyes set in the shaggy head of a fully horned ram. The same eyes that Theo imagined watched as his wife died.
Demon!
As one, Theo and his companions cried out, “
NO!” and the battle was joined.
*****
Next time:
More silliness!
Hey! I'm not silly. I'm zany!
You're not zany, you're the last kid picked in gym class.
...
No! Not the eyes! NOT THE EYES!
Next time:
More zaniness!
