Chapter 1

Altering

It was a rather pathetic little tower. The round structure rose about three stories off the ground-the bare minimum to really qualify as a wizard's tower-made of rough-hewn stone held together by some crude mortar. Said something about the inhabitant, I guess. The simple fact that Mr. de Long resided in a genuine wizard's tower at all said something about both the arcane power and the wealth at his disposal. But having such a small one, with such sloppy workmanship... this was not the mark of a man with a high degree of self-respect or moral fiber. Made him look like the sort of guy who wanted what he wanted now, who went and got himself a tower the moment he had the resources to be able to afford to raise one, instead of having the patience to wait until he could obtain a truly good one.

The sort of guy who would try to hire a guy like me, I thought as I strode through the smoking remains of what had once been his guards. Conjured creatures, elementals mostly. Not a soldier in sight. That, and the genuine wizard's tower made of cheap materials, made him look like he had more mojo than money. And yet he'd made it known that he desired my services, and I don't come cheap. And it goes without saying that I do not accept payment in magic of any kind. With one exception-there always is one, you know-but it was early on, and I'm not likely to ever need that again. At least I hope not.

Curiouser and curiouser. Whatever it was he had his sights set on, it must be a real prize.

I stepped up to the tower in the early morning light, and laid a hand against it, feeling the tingle of the wards and fundaments he'd worked into the stone. There was a wooden door nearby. I could have knocked, but that's really no way to make an entrance. In my line of work, it helps to be a bit flashy sometimes. So I reached into my pack and got a few pieces of kit out. A pouch full of steel spikes, with a drawstring that I tied to my belt. A climbing hammer with a laniard which I tied around my wrist. I hoped I wouldn't need them-it would make too much noise, and be too obvious. Better to have it and not need it, though... And the last thing I grabbed was some chalk dust. I hung that pouch around my neck, on a laniard long enough to reach my stomach, then got some all over both hands for traction.

Turned out I didn't need the pitons after all. The stone was rough and poorly cut, and there were plenty of places to find fingerholds. Free climbing's pretty scary stuff, but I'd done it before under worse conditions. Took me about half an hour to make my way up to the top of the tower. I pulled myself up and over one of the crenels running along the edge, being very careful not to touch anything made of metal or glass. The stone was safe, but up here at the focus of the tower was some serious magic that even I didn't want to screw around with.

There was a trapdoor near the edge, about a third of the way around from where I'd come up, with a metal bar coming out of the stone to either side and a crossbar between them. The end of a ladder, then. OK, time to make an entrance. First things first, though. I stowed the climbing gear back in my pack, then pulled out a specially-marked waterskin. A sharp smell, acidic but not unpleasant, wafted out as I uncorked it; I wasn't carrying water inside, but some pretty strong vinegar. I used it to wash the limestone powder off my hands, then shook them dry. You show up wearing chalk dust, someone might know you're a climber. You show up smelling like vinegar... they just get all confused and figure you must have Twisted your way up somehow. It's funny. Even where real magic exists, even among people that use it and know what it can and can't do, people still resort to superstition rather than rationality to explain things that don't make all that much sense at first glance.

Though, to be fair, the Twist was hardly a well-understood magical principle. It's difficult to study something, afterall, when the only known practitioner-if the word even applies-has both motive and means to avoid scrutiny whenever possible.

Anyway, away with the vinegar waterskin, and out with the probe and knife. There was a pretty simple lock on the trapdoor; it only took a minute or so to work my way around. Sure, it was overlaid with some heavy warding-remember the bit about more magic than money?-but, well... you know. And so I was in.

And so was the resident wizard. Robert de Long ran into the upper room right as I was climbing down the ladder. He didn't look much like what you'd expect of a wizard. You know, tall, slender, old, long white hair and beard, big flowy robes, floppy hat and magic staff, and an air of authority about him. But no, this guy was a bit on the shorter side of medium height and kinda stocky, looked to be in his early 30s, had dark brown hair with a sizeable bald spot encroaching on it, still in his pajamas, with an air of panic about him. He held out a hand towards me and shouted "ab duraznak!" and a big wind flared up in the crowded upper room.

This was some pretty serious wind, really. Strong enough to blow a guy my size back up the ladder and off the roof.

I just stood there and let it swirl and eddy around me until it blew the trap door closed instead.

He scowled and called out "tura froyu!" next, holding out both hands.

"You really shouldn't d-" I tried to warn him, I really did! He didn't listen, though.

Poor guy. The bolt of lightning he called up slammed into me. It tickled. Made me shiver a little. He, on the other hand... well, on the bright side, that bald spot wasn't going to be a problem for him for some time to come. His hair went instantly white and started growing before my eyes. It eventually stopped, about two feet long, straight, and very thick, a perfect Merlin hairdo. All that was missing was the beard.

He didn't wait for it to stop growing, though. "What did you do to me?" he just about screamed in my face.

"I didn't do it, technically," I said. "And do you treat all your guests this way?"

"What do you m-" The wizard stopped, then stepped forward, conjuring up a ball of light to get a better look at me. He sniffed slightly as he started to notice the scent of vinegar on me, and gave me a quizzical look. "You can't be Paul Twister," he said slowly, hesitantly. I hadn't given my name, but who else would I be? "You're a child, not an archwizard!"

Well, one out of two isn't too bad, considering the circumstances. I'm not, and never will be, an archwizard.

"Paul Twister, at your service," I said as cheerily as I could. "And I'm nineteen years old. That's well past enough to be counted a man in this kingdom." Well, techinically I was closer to thirty, but try telling my body that. I haven't aged a day since I got here, near as I can tell. In fact, I shudder to think it but I might have even gotten a bit younger, physically.

"But..." I could see the wheels spinning in his head. The great Paul Twister's adventures were already legend. The bards first started singing about my wild exploits maybe five years back, and there'd had to have been some time before then to accomplish stuff worthy of bards singing about. Subtract X from Y, carry the 1, round off to two decimal places, take the square root and dip it in root beer, and the only conclusion to reach is that the numbers just didn't add up. I decided to take pity on the poor shlub before be gave himself an aneurysm.

"The Twist turns as it wills," I said, and he nodded, as if it made any sense at all. A line like that can get you out of all sorts of reasonable questions, if you know how to use it.

"Very well," he said. "I was expecting to meet with your herald, or perhaps even to have you come to my door, but... I suppose the Twist turns as it wills." He sighed, his shoulders slumping slightly.

"Even so," I added with my best sage nod. Wow. This guy thinks I have a herald? Half the time I can hardly even afford to hire a freaking pageboy! But whatever. "I understand you wished to engage my services? Something about a seal?"

He nodded, then brushed at his still-growing hair with irritation. "It's below. I've recently acquired an... item of great power, but it is locked away behind a magical seal." Wow again. He already had the thing, and it's right here with him? Easy money! Usually they send me in to retrieve the item myself, from behind whatever seal or ward its owner guarded it with. If only all my jobs were like this!

"And upon discovering that the seal was beyond your... not inconsiderable capacity, you decided to seek out a specialist." There's no harm in a bit of flattery every once in a while, especially if you've just humiliated someone by total accident. It can really help smooth ruffled feathers. "Very well, I'll have a look at it. There is, of course, the small matter of my fee."

The mage nodded. "Come with me."

De Long led me down to the second floor, to a small room with a stone table and a mirror on the wall. He had me wait a moment, then came back dressed in a proper wizard's robe. He carried a bulging coin pouch, which he tossed on the table in front of me. I dumped it out, finding it a rather heterogeneous mix of gold, silver, copper, and tiny gemstones. Enough to live comfortably on for a year, if I was a commoner, or a month or three if I was me. Unfortunately, I'm me.

I ran my fingers through the money avariciously, hoping that's what it would look like. A greedy mercenary caressing his newfound wealth. I felt a bit of a tingle for a brief moment when my fingers passed over a few of the precious stones. Clever. They were stones of lesser value, which I would be less likely to spend quickly than the coins, and less likely to trade in for money quickly than the more expensive gems in the lot. He's not the first to have tried to spy on me that way, though.

I bit a few of the coins for show, and pulled out a loupe from my pack to examine the gems, as if I had any clue what to look for. What I had was reputation, and that itself was enough to ensure he wouldn't cheat me. Robert de Long may be a cheap little toad of a man, but he was a toad, not a weasel.

"Very well," I said, scooping the payment back into the pouch. "This appears to be in order. If you could call for a witness?"

If I hadn't been looking for it, I would have missed it. His eyes widened just a little at that. He was nervous. Then he went all smooth and oily. "Oh, that should not be necessary, Great Twister. I'm certain you can appreciate the value of discretion at times?"

I inclined my head in a polite nod. "I certainly can. So if you could call for a witness... discreetly?"

He sighed when he got the point, then walked over to the mirror and cleared his throat. "O mirror, mirror, on my wall, to Brian Eckart I do call." I bit my lip to keep from snickering as the mirror clouded over, then shimmered into a reflection of a distant hearth after a few moments. Another wizard came into view. I turned my head so he wouldn't get a good view of my face.

"Robert! What's this all about, calling me so early in the morning?" He sounded more puzzled than annoyed.

"My apologies, Brian. I simply needed a Witnessing. With regards to the seal."

"Then that there..."

Robert nodded. "I do pledge this pouch, containing payment in the value of three hundred delin, to Paul Twister as payment for services rendered, namely the removal of one magical seal."

Not turning my head towards the mirror, I responded. "I do pledge the removal of the seal from the item in Robert de Long's possession, in return for this pouch and the valuables contained therein."

Brian's voice came from behind me. "I do so witness."

"Thank you, Brian," Robert said. And that was that. I had my etheric witness, about the only guarantee I could get against any number of things that could go wrong. Now I just had to take care of the seal.

He led me down the stairs to the base of the tower, then opened a rather heavy wooden door to a staircase descending further. A bit odd, but he wouldn't the first wizard to put a treasury in the basement of his tower. I knew that firsthand; I've extracted items from a few of them in my day. We came to another heavy door, and he opened it, but what met my eyes was no treasury!

It was a dungeon. Dank, smelly, with cells made of iron bars. Large enough that the dim magelight he carried didn't illuminate the whole place, but I could only see one prisoner. A woman, held against the wall by chains binding her wrists and ankles. A fifth chain connected the wall to a thick iron collar around her neck. Didn't look comfortable at all. As we drew closer, I felt anger bubble up within me. She looked like she might have once been pretty, and had she been in better shape, the whole "slave girl dressed in tattered rags that barely cover anything" look might have really done something for me. But when she looked like she hadn't bathed in weeks, her long hair all scraggly, her body covered in filth, sores, and half-healed cuts and bruises, the only passion looking at her aroused was wrath. I may be a scoundrel and a thief, but I'm no monster.

I clenched my teeth and counted slowly to five. "You said you had a thing with a seal on it. Not a person." I forced myself to be calm. A contract backed by etheric witness cuts both ways, afterall, and brings some complications with it that even I could not easily ignore.

"Well," he huffed a bit defensively, "I would think that three hundred delin would buy me the services of someone discreet enough to overlook such trivialities. The seal is on the back of her neck."

He walked over to the door to the woman's cell, and pulled out a heavy iron key. In the magelight, I could see that there was a very mystic-looking device, about seven feet tall, set up in the next cell over. Whatever power was sealed within her, he wanted it for himself, and that must be the way to extract it. Wouldn't do to get it too close to me, though, so he'd probably moved it.

The woman, who had appeared to be unconscious and barely breathing, suddenly opened her eyes and looked up at us. She snarled and shook the chains, and she had this intense look in her eyes. It was a bit scary, and very much out of place on someone who'd been chained up as long as she obviously had. "It will never be yours!" she said in a defiant sob that was more forlorn hope than true conviction.

Robert just laughed and stepped into the cell with the two of us. "We shall see," he said. Then, to me, "go ahead."

I wondered what her story was. Then again, I probably didn't want to know. It would most likely depress me. I started thinking fast. No way this was going to end well, but was there a way to pull off some good kind of bad ending?

As I stepped forward, she looked at me, and it's like she knew. There was just something in those intense eyes. I had never seen this woman before in my life, but she understood the Twist. "Stay away from me!" she sobbed. "Please!" The defiance was gone, and in its place was real.. fear? No, not exactly. Worry.

Not like there's much she could do to me, though, all chained up like that. I moved in close, then reached out and turned her head. She fought me, and it killed me to do it, but not fulfilling that contract would be a Very Bad Thing. No matter what else happened, the seal had to go. I leaned in, ostensibly to examine the dimly-glowing yellow and blue swirly pattern on the back of her neck, barely poking out above the iron collar. Let de Long think I needed to study it. The less mages understood about the Twist, the better. But the real reason was not to get my eyes close to her, but my mouth.

"I'm a friend," I murmured quietly. "No harm will come to you at my hand." Then I placed two fingers against the seal, and let the Twist do its thing.

I felt the tingle of magic, fighting the Twist, trying to crawl up my fingers. Whatever this thing was, it's strong! No wonder de Long couldn't break it. But then the magic Twisted back upon itself. There was no heat, but after a few moments a burst of smoke abruptly rose from her neck, and the seal was gone. The prisoner arched and cried out, and suddenly I had to jump back as a pair of large, white, feathery wings erupted from her back!

Gods, spirits and demons! Had he been holding a freaking celestial captive? That's like trying to get yourself a pet dragon by putting a leash on one while it sleeps!

Well, at least the seal was broken. That meant the contract was fulfilled, and I had no further obligations to de Long, and thus no reason not to do what I did next. I turned, crouched, and sprang, my shoulder taking him in the gut and slamming him against the bars of the cell.

"Ooomf!" He gasped and wheezed. "What are you doing? This is treachery! We had a deal!"

I growled at him in my most menacing tone of voice. "I am altering our deal. Pray that she does not alter it any further." Yeah, I know. No one in this wretched kingdom is gonna get a reference like that. But it made me sound all badass, which is what I was going for.

The angelic woman was struggling against the chains. I looked around, and noticed something very interesting. The door to the next cell was open. Aha! I gave de Long a hard punch right in the gut, then stepped away, slipping through the cell door and slamming it. Then I hurried into the next cell over and laid both hands on the device. It didn't smoke or spark, or melt or anything interesting, but I felt the Twist, and then I heard the iron chains snapping as the celestial's strength returned to her. Suddenly the dungeon was flooded with a much brighter illumination. I looked over at her, and had to hold a hand up to shield my eyes; she was shining like a stadium light! A loose white robe covered her flawless skin, long, shimmering silver hair flowed down to the middle of her back... and as she held up both hands in front of her, a blade of pure light and fire coalesced into her grip.

Robert tried to frantically conjure up some sort of spell to defend himself. I turned and walked out the cell. "I'm gonna... just look around, OK?" I said to no one in particular, walking as quickly as I could to the far side of the dungeon. I didn't want to watch what came next.

There was a quite unmanly scream, which suddenly became a gurgle, and then a thud and the bright light illuminating the room got a whole lot less bright. I heard someone rattling around, picking up the metal key ring and unlocking the cell. Only then did I turn around to face the Celestial woman.

"You shouldn't have done that, Twister." she said rather sternly. "I placed the seal upon myself. I delivered myself into bondage, and when the time was right, when I knew the full extent of his meddling in dark forces, I would have released it."

Seriously? She's an undercover angel-cop and I just blew her investigation? Some sort of winged Bastila Shan? Figures. "My apologies, m'lady. I guess you know who I am already. I was bound to release the seal under an etheric contract, drawn before I knew that the seal lay upon a person and not an object of some sort."

She nodded. "I suppose I cannot blame you for that." She stepped forward, towards me. If that sword was still in her hands, I might have been good and worried. I wouldn't lay odds on the Twist's power to nullify it before it cut off something I wouldn't want to lose. Even so, I was a bit nervous.

"You know me, it seems. May I know your name, m'lady?"

She smiled. When a pretty girl smiles, it's beautiful. But when a hot angel-girl radiating light in a dark room smiles at you... it'll just about blow your mind. I couldn't help it. I stared. I almost missed what she said. Almost, but not quite. "I am Aylwyn," she intoned, three of the loveliest words I've ever heard. "And... I thank you for rescuing me, my gallant hero." There was a bit of a mocking twist to her lips that just made her that much hotter as she stepped towards me again. And then she was leaning in and kissing my cheek, and the way it felt...

Wow! Where can I find myself another imprisoned celestial girl to rescue?

"I intend no offense, but I sincerely hope we never meet again, Paul Twister. Trouble follows in your wake." And then the light around her grew brighter, and brigher, until I was forced to look away... and then the light was gone, and so was she.

Bah. Girl who willingly does stuff like this, and she wants to stay out of the trouble I bring? I've never been mixed up in anything half so ugly as what de Long had done to her. She seriously needs to reexamine her priorities!

I turned and headed out of the dungeon, then back to the second floor. I'd had jobs go bad on me before, but never like this! This was a real mess, and I didn't know what all I could do to clean it up. But there was one thing I would need to do right away.

"O Mirror, mirror, on the wall, to the local Archmagus I do call." Thankfully, the Twist didn't operate by voice. As long as I stood back, it should work fine. I turned my back before the connection could solidify.

"Robert?" a man's voice asked.  It sounded vaguely familiar, but the last thing I wanted to do was get into a discussion with some high-ranking wizard, especially one who knew me!  "You are not Robert. Who is this?"

"My apologies, Sir Archmagus. I am Paul Twister, and Robert engaged my assistance on a... sensitive matter."

The voice sounded a bit taken aback.  "And where is Robert? Why are you speaking to me over his mirror, Paul?"

"Well, I'm sure if Mr. de Long could speak to you right about now, he would, but that's difficult to do when you're laying face down on the floor with a smoking hole in your chest. He was involved in stuff he really shouldn't be. I'm no mage, but... well, you know that I know some things about the workings of magic." The archmagus remained silent, and I continued, choosing my words carefully. "He hired me under etheric contract to break a seal, witnessed by one Brian Eckart. I was led to believe it was a seal protecting a magical artifact of some sort. It was actually upon a woman, who he was holding captive in a dungeon beneath his tower, under deplorable conditions." That right there would have gotten him in big trouble with the Circle, had he still been alive. The magi were supposed to be a force for civilization in the world, a light in the darkness. Slavery was a huge no-no. "Under the terms of my contract, I released the seal. I'm not sure if he knew what he had there, though, but it proved too dangerous for him. The seal was hiding the woman's true form; she was a being of great power, such as I have never seen before. I would not care to speculate as to her nature-that would be more the province of mages than of any training I have had." All technically true, of course, as I've had no training. You have to be careful on a conversation like this. They have spells that can detect lies, but I didn't want them to know everything. Knowledge is power, and, aside from a few ridiculously specific applications of the Twist, it was about the only power I had in this world.

"She said her name was... something odd to my ears, something that sounded like 'Leilwen,'" (again, technically true, and it's been a while but I think that name actually comes out of a fantasy story, so it should be right at home in a place like this,) "and then she thanked me for freeing her, and disappeared. I'll be taking the payment owed me for breaking the seal, but beyond that I am leaving with nothing that was the rightful property of Robert de Long while he lived. You'll probably want to send someone over to... do whatever it is you do to take care of abandoned wizards' towers."

The archmagus tried to respond. "Paul, this is a most-" but I was already out the door. I didn't come up there to have a conversation with him. And if he was going to send someone, or drop by in person, I didn't want to be around to answer questions. So I made my way down to the ground floor and slipped out the door, then off into the woods, with one more pouch in my pack than I'd had before.  Despite the ugliness, things had actually gone a fair bit better than my usual jobs.  Well, better for me, at least.  If only all jobs were this easy! And if only all jobs got me a kiss from a pretty girl at the end!

And somehow, I couldn't help but think I'd see Aylwyn again.

Why else would she have told me her name?

2: Clark

Chapter 2

Clark

Wizards often prefer their solitude. Magic has a pretty decent reputation around here, due in no small part to the magi and their rather heavy-handed approach to "internal affairs," but it still tends to give a lot of people the creeps. When you pick something up and let go of it, it falls to the ground, and you're so familiar with that that it just feels right. It's something you don't even question. But when a mage picks something up and lets go of it, it might very well stay right there until he's ready for it to fall to the ground, or even start moving around in ways that everyone knows it shouldn't, even though they never had Newton here to lay down the law. So wizards, particularly those powerful enough to have their own towers, tend to live a bit apart from civilization, to avoid interference both mystical and societal.

On the other hand, wizards are humans too. (Well, most of them around here are, at least, and most of the rest are half-human.) That means they need to eat, and they have to provide for all the same basic needs as the rest of us. And like most of us, they solve that by relying on civilization. Someone else grows food and makes clothing, and wizards purchase it in return for money, which they obtain through applying their skills in some way that someone else finds useful enough to pay for, since that's generally easier than conjuring up food and clothes for yourself. But the upshot is, they can't afford to live too far away from people. So they tend to strike a bit of a balance.

Robert de Long lived about four miles out of town. A decent hike, particularly when it's all woods, with no actual roads leading to the tower. It was getting on towards noon by the time I got back to the inn I was staying at. I made my way to the common room and inquired about lunch.

"Ah! Mister Kent! I hope you find our town agreeable, thus far?" The innkeeper had a warm smile as I walked in, hoping to earn himself some tips of course.

I nodded. "No need to be formal, George. You can just call me Clark. I've actually been out in the woods this morning, more than around town per se."

His brow furrowed slightly. "For your... research?" he asked.

Yep, that's me. Clark Kent, traveling scholar, under a royal grant to investigate some potential new medicinal herbs. At least, that's who they know me as here. In other parts of the kingdom, I might be recognized under names like Peter Parker, Wayne Bruce (turns out that sounds better here than the other way around), Robin Locksley, Anthony Stark (no one goes by "Tony" here) or Diego de la Vega, with a variety of cover stories.

Why the silly names? Context. They don't sound silly to people here, and in case anyone else from back home ends up here somehow, hearing a name like that would make them more likely to want to meet me. Much easier than me finding them, right? Especially since I wouldn't probably even know they're here. So, get them to come to me.

That, and I'd really rather not have any magi learn my real name. Names have power, and the Twist doesn't make me invincible. So here, I'm Clark Kent.

"That's right," I nodded. "I found some rather interesting moss growing out among the trees off to the north, so I'd say it's been a productive morning."

The innkeeper raised an eyebrow. "I should hope you didn't venture too far to the north of town." He leaned in and lowered his voice conspiratorially. "There's a wizard living out that way, in a big stone tower."

"A wizard? You don't say! Well, I didn't see it. Must not have gone the right way. What's this wizard... what's his name, by the way? And what does he do?"

The innkeeper shook his head. "Gets up to all manner of unnatural workings out there. Hight Robert de Long, but they call him Black Robert." How original. Well, they're peasants, not literary geniuses. Can't expect too much from them. "They say back in Keliar and thereabouts, wizards are good people who help everyone, but out here... you best keep your distance." He moved closer and dropped his voice even further, looking back and forth. "Why, I hear he even went and hired that Paul Twister fellow, to kidnap a maiden and bring him her still-beating heart with his black arts."

So much for my sterling reputation.

"Oh, dear!" I said. "I'll have to stay clear of there. Perhaps this afternoon, I'll do my research in the woods to the east instead?"

He nodded. "That might be wise, Clark." He wandered off to the kitchen to get something for me to eat.

Ah, rumors. They'd heard de Long wanted to hire me, but for obvious reasons he hadn't said why, so human nature was left to fill in the rest. And apparently what they were filling it in with around here was none too complimentary. I'd have to do something about that.

* * *

The place was a bit livelier by the time I got back in the evening. (The downside to using a royal research patent as a cover story is that to pull it off, you actually have to have a royal research patent, and then you're expected to produce results, even if you obtained it fraudulently. So I was out in the woods all afternoon, looking for interesting herbs and having no idea what I was doing. Fun.)

The common room of the local inn doubled as the local tavern, as many do. So I wandered in and found a fair number of people talking, eating, drinking, and, most importantly, listening to the performance of a bard. The guy was tall and slender--enough so to make me want to get a close look at his ears, just to be sure--with light skin and fair hair, and he was playing some sort of pipe-thing I wasn't familiar with, in between singing. It sounded good, though, and he had a nice voice.

When there was a lull, I called out to George and tossed him a gold three-delin mark. "Everyone drinks free tonight for as long as this lasts, courtesy of the King and the Masters of the Royal Academy!" A raucous cheer went up, followed by good-natured calls for more ale, wine, mead or whatever else. When he asked what I'd be having, I shook my head. "I'm fine," I said. "Quenched my thirst in a stream off in the forest not long ago. I could do with some roast potatoes and rabbit, though."

You know how they say, "in the land of the blind, the one-eyed man is king?" Well, when you're trying to get everyone in the room drunk, you usually also want to stay sober yourself.

"Ho! Sir Minstrel!" I called out to the bard as he rested. I tossed a silver coin across the room to him. Not too much, but not so little as to insult him.

He caught it out of the air with nimble fingers, and executed a slightly mocking bow. "And what would our generous patron wish to hear this evening?"

I grinned. "Just call me Clark." I chewed on my lip for a few moments, thinking. "I've always been partial to the Lay of Paul Twister. Do you know that one?"

"Five versions of it, sir."

I laughed and raised an eyebrow. "Is that so? Erm... the one where he sneaks into a dragon's keep to rescue a princess, but finds that the dragon tricked him, and she was being held in another castle entirely."

He blew across the pipes and twiddled his fingers, drawing a playful tunelet from the instrument. "That scene figures in three of them," he said dryly, much to the amusement of the patrons.

They already wrote my favorite scene out of two versions of the song? That was one of the best parts! I should know; Peter Parker co-wrote the number with the bard who first popularized it!

"Bah! Just pick one and play!" I scowled, which made the other patrons laugh even more. I sat and waited for my meal while the minstrel played. It was a lighthearted tune, essentially casting Paul as a classic Trickster archetype who outwits corrupt nobility, greedy merchants, and scheming mages, but is in the end outwitted by a dragon. The poor princess ends up having to effect her own rescue, leaving her rather unimpressed and our poor protagonist with no reward! When writing it, I borrowed liberally from a variety of mythologies back home--from Loki and Coyote, to Puck and Robin Hood, to the Marx Brothers and Bugs Bunny--and mixed in distorted versions of a few of my actual exploits that had gone wrong enough to attract some notice, all set to proper Geiselian anapestic tetrameter for optimum whimsicality. And then, of course, the bards got at it and started adapting the tales to suit themselves, and their audiences of course.

This bard was good. By the last chorus he had the crowd laughing and singing along raucously, mostly off-time and off-key, but clearly enjoying it. I laughed as hearty as anyone by the time he was done, then applauded and tossed him another silver. "Bravo! Old Twister's always good for a laugh. Go, wet your throat." I gestured over at the bar to him. "And then..." I paused for a moment, hesitating a little, giving the crowd a few moments to quiet down and let the anticipation build. "I don't suppose you know 'Breeze over Eliaar Lake?'"

Guffaws went up around the room at my wildly inappropriate request for a haunting, tragic ballad of impossible love, far better suited to a concert hall than a beer hall. It only got louder when the minstrel tossed the coin back to me. I did my best to act surprised, fumbling the catch and dropping it awkwardly to the floor, to further laughter. "I suspect, good Clark, that you've had too much to drink... or not enough," he replied dryly, before calling out for another glass of wine.

Another patron tossed him a coin, coupled with a request for a rather raunchy song about what a certain nobleman's wife and the captain of the guard got up to while he was away on royal business. The minstrel took a drink, then pocketed the coin and started to play, breaking the awkwardness of the moment and getting everyone back into a good mood. I made sure to act suitably abashed, and tried to make up for it by singing along with the chorus just as loudly--and badly--as anyone else in the room.

After a few more requests, the bard begged off any more performing for the night, claiming his voice needed a rest. He wandered over to the bar after cleaning his pipes and wrapping the instrument in thick cloth for safe-keeping. After a few drinks and some chatting with the innkeeper, he dropped by my table next. "You've certainly put the crowd in a happy mood tonight, Mr. Kent."

I ran my right thumb over the base of my middle finger reflexively, just making sure I had my ring on before he got too close. "If a town's going to show me hospitality, I may as well return the favor," I said nonchalantly. "What brings you by Brighton? I suppose George has already told you all about me." I hadn't been the one to give him the name "Kent," at least.

He just smiled. "On my way to Millersford, to visit the baron about a possible patronage. This seemed a better place to rest for the night than at the side of the road."

I nodded. "Fair enough." Though really it wasn't. Millersford was a few days' journey from here, but if you were to draw a map of the kingdom, Brighton would be pretty close to the corner. It's not really "on the way" from anywhere to Millersford, unless you're coming from a border fort... or further. But I suppose we all have our secrets, don't we? "I came in late," I noted absently. "I never did catch your name." I glanced over at him, checking the side of his face, but he was wearing his long, full, straight hair forward far enough to completely cover his ears.

The bard smiled amicably. "Patrick Hill," he replied. Then he lowered his voice slightly. "I should say, you ought to be a bit more discreet. Paul Twister may be a bit of a folk hero back west, but out here he's not nearly so well-liked. Stole from the wrong people a while back. And you're not in the sort of genteel company you're clearly used to keeping, though to your credit, you adapt quickly enough." I smiled at him and was about to respond, when he looked straight into my eyes and shook his head slightly. "That is what I should say, isn't it?" he continued dryly. "Instead, I'll simply say, congratulations on your performance tonight. You're a better actor than most, Mr. Kent. I'm not sure what you meant to do tonight, but I don't doubt you accomplished it." He gave me a little smirk and got up, heading over to other tables to converse with the patrons and swap gossip.

I just shook my head and fought back a wry half-smile at the mild rebuke. I probably should have known better than to try to pull a trained actor all unwitting into an act. If I'd known how good he was at the outset, I wouldn't have done so in the first place. Ah well, even a great trickster gets outwitted every once in a while. He was wrong about one thing, though. I hadn't accomplished what I'd meant to. Hadn't got around to it yet, while he was still playing, and there was no way I was going to go gossiping and spreading new rumors about Paul Twister with an unusually observant bard who'd already "made" me hanging about! So I stuck around for a few minutes longer, then headed up to my room.

I spent a while counting out the money from de Long's pouch, separating the coins from the gemstones, marking things down in a ledger book and checking various figures. After expenses, savings and a few important investments, I estimated I had enough left over to live on for about two months. Coincidentally, it was about two months until I had any major obligations to fulfill, back in the capital, and maybe two weeks' travel time between here and there. So, what was I going to do with the next month and a half of my life?

I lay down and pulled the blanket up around my shoulders. I'd figure that part out tomorrow.

3: Academy

Chapter 3

Academy

I slept well that night, eventually. It took more than an hour for sleep to find me. The way Patrick very quietly let me know he knew I wasn't quite on the up-and-up had spooked me. I spent about an hour fighting the urge to bail, to flee for my life. Living here, I'd developed a well-honed instinct for paranoia that had saved my life more than once, and profoundly embarrassed me more times than it had saved my life. But, you know, the whole "life-saving" thing makes up for it, on balance.

Eventually I reasoned that there was no evidence whatsoever that he was anything more than an unusually observant minstrel, or that he had any sort of ill intentions towards me, told my paranoia to shut up and go away, and went to sleep. Turns out I was right about that, but in hindsight, I probably should have listened to my paranoia anyway. Or maybe not. Had I left that night, I'd probably have never met Sarah, or caught up with my old friend Gerald, or gotten involved with the whole April hunt mess, which turned out to be my first... well, you'll see. Wouldn't want to get ahead of myself.

Anyway, the next morning I still didn't know what to do next. So I figured I'd try the old fallback, Stark Academy. It was a branch of the Royal Academy, founded by the eccentric, somewhat reclusive Anthony Stark (that's me, remember?) in the remote outpost of Tem's Falls. Tem's Falls was a tiny little village about two days' journey to the north of the capital, back before the Academy set up shop there. It was set along the River Owail, near where it plunged into a canyon about half a mile deep, hence the name. The soil was decent, but the river was flowing way too fast--and in too dangerous of a direction--to make river transport practical, which sharply limited its growth potential as a pocket of civilization.

Turns out copious amounts of fast-flowing water are great for turning waterwheels, though, and that's got all sorts of useful applications, as Mr. Hoover showed all the fine folks back home. That, and a good-sized limestone quarry--the key ingredient in cement--conveniently located nearby, made Tem's Falls the ideal place to set up shop.

And it also turns out that, as fun as it might sound to be a high-priced mercenary thief in a magical world, living without the trappings of civilization really sucks! And so does having powerful wizards who want you dead. Heck, truth be told I want Paul Twister dead too. On balance, the guy's been more trouble than he's worth. So I needed an exit strategy. After saving up enough ill-gotten gains to purchase a bit of respectability under a cover identity, about three years ago I went looking for a patron, pitching a very simple concept: cement.

They've got cobblestone roads all over the kingdom, but riding in a carriage--as nobles and royalty often do--over cobbled roads can be a very unpleasant experience. A brief demonstration to one of the more receptive minor nobles, involving applying a nice, even top layer of cement to a twenty-foot stretch of one of his roadways and letting him feel the difference as he road onto and then back off of it, was enough to convince him to sponsor an institution for research into more economical production of cement, and from there the idea spread. And now the King's Highway is being slowly paved by Royal Engineers, using material and techniques researched at Stark Academy.

I have no illusions of raising this place to a 21st century standard of living, or even a 20th century one. I'm no Connecticut Yankee, just a Seattle Geek who happens to know a few things about the way things work. And once we got enough attention to get ourselves the prestigious association with the Royal Academy, I started branching out. For example, I know that spinning a magnet around inside a coil of copper wire produces an electric current. But how strong of a magnet? How big does it have to be, and how fast does it have to spin, before you get anything useful? Does the size of the coil of wire relative to the magnet matter? Does the number of loops in the coil matter? We're rediscovering all these things from first principles at the academy, which puts us firmly in the early 19th century.

But anyway. I decided to head back to Tem's Falls, which was about two weeks away. I had a fair amount of coin on me, enough to purchase travel rations for myself and my two horses--it's always a good idea to take two on a long trip. That way you can switch when the one you're riding gets tired. You make better time that way. I got three weeks' worth of food, just in case, and set out, but not before watching out the window to make sure that Mr. Hill had left. I didn't feel like running into him again. That was another factor influencing my decision: Brighton to Tem's Falls is a completely different journey than Brighton to Millersford.

It was a rather uneventful couple of weeks, which is my favorite kind. I saw a handful of royal knights patroling the roadways, passed a few trvelers, both going my way and heading in the opposite direction, and didn't get waylaid by any bandits. Two weeks without shaving earned me that most venerable of disguises, a beard. Anthony Stark wore one; Paul Twister and most of my other aliases did not.

The village had grown some in the few months I'd been away. Perhaps inspired by the long line of waterwheels erected by the electrical research department of the Academy, someone seemed to be in the process of constructing a second mill, and off at the edge of town as I rode in there was a smithy that I hadn't seen before. More houses too, and more outlying farmland under cultivation. It was getting to the point where it might be more appropriate to call it a town, rather than a village.

Wow, I thought to myself. How many guys back home can say they've been responsible for the creation of a college town?

Not that Stark Academy was a college, per se. Yes, it was an adjunct to the Royal Academy, and some nobles did send their sons here, much to my chagrin, but our primary purpose was research, not education. Developing new knowledge, rather than spreading old knowledge.

I got my horses stabled, then walked over to the administrative building. It was fairly small and unassuming, except for the large stone letters carved over every doorway. I've never really gotten the hang of the local alphabet, but I knew what they said: the motto and mission statement of the academy.

EXPERIMENT
PREDICT
TEST
OBSERVE EVERYTHING
MEASURE EVERYTHING
DOCUMENT EVERYTHING
FAILURE IS ITS OWN SUCCESS

"Evan!" I called out as I entered the administrative building. "I've had another dream!"

"Mister Stark?" I heard footsteps coming down the corridor, and then Evan Tranton, the Dean of Stark Academy, strode into the lobby. If he was surprised to see me back so soon, he didn't say anything. It may be named after me, but Evan runs the place. I'm just the eccentric visionary who provides direction and purpose for the academy, in a rather literal sense. Anthony Stark claims that most of his revolutionary ideas are things that came to him in dreams. "What was this one about?" He had a quill and inkpot in one hand and a scroll in the other, ready to take notes at a moment's notice, just in case I started spouting another crazy idea before getting settled in. It had happened before.

"No, no, Evan." I waved my hand at him dismissively. "Let's go into your office." I walked with him down the hallway and sat down by his writing desk. Once he'd gotten seated, he looked over at me.

"I had a dream," I said, "in which I was riding in a carriage, on a cobble road, but the carriage was moving smoothly and not jostling. I marvelled at this, and called for the coachman to stop. When he did, I climbed out and looked at the wheels, and behold! The axles were not connected to the body of the carriage as ours are, with a solid, firm mounting, but rather with a piece of steel such as I have never seen. It was as if someone took a thumb-thick staff of solid steel, and wound it like a coil of wire!" I held up one finger and traced a helix spiral in the air. "It would flex and return to its shape, like a bow, and when the wheels jostled, the coil flexed to absorb it so that the body of the carriage would not feel the movement!"

Evan looked up from his note-taking, a dubious expression on his face. "Solid steel, wrapped like a coil of wire, that bends and holds its shape like a longbow." His tone indicated that he thought I was mad, or at least he'd like to, if only my mad dreams didn't have such a history of leading to useful realities.

"Exactly!" I said. "Only, not a tight coil like we use with the waterwheels. There was space between the coils. Like this." I held my fingers a couple inches apart.

He nodded, indulging my wild fantasy for a moment as he took down the information. "Very well. But I know of no steel that can bend and hold its shape as you describe, sir."

I returned the nod. "Well, I did see a new smith in town as I rode in. Can we have him experiment with new alloys? Mix things into steel, see what he can find. Try..." aww crap. I just realized I have no clue what spring steel is made of. Then I got an idea. If I couldn't give them the formula for spring steel, then maybe... "Do we have any chromium?"

The administrator cocked his head to the side, looking at me quizzically. "Chromium, Mr. Stark? I don't believe so. I could send for some from the Royal Engineers, though I truly doubt that such a brittle metal would give a yielding steel."

I nodded at him. "I know. But... chromium just feels right. We should try other things too, but please get the smith some chromium."

He sighed. "Very well, Mr. Stark. Chromium it is."

"All right. And what's our budget like? I really have a good feeling about steel. Is there any way we could hire some Guild smiths to work for the Academy directly, as researchers?"

His eyes widened slightly at the thought of the expense such a venture would entail. "Smith researchers?" He closed his eyes and started touching his thumbs to his fingers, as if counting in his head. "Perhaps," he said after a moment. "We may be able to hire two, or perhaps three, without overextending ourselves, but this would limit research in other areas. I'll have to speak with the clerks to be certain." He opened his eyes again and looked at me. "But I'd like to have some evidence that this is a worthwhile venture first."

OK, if Evan's gonna pull out the E-word, I know it's time to back down. Evidence has always been a core value at the academy, at my insistence. He's always been a bit leery of my "dreams," and I can't blame him. Though in all fairness it sounds a lot less insane than telling him the truth about where I'm getting these ideas from. "Fair enough," I conceded with a nod. "But there's enough budget to hire the new smith to work on chromium and other experimental alloys for steel?"

He nodded back. Compromise accepted. "There is, Mr. Stark. We should be able to have preliminary results--whatever they may be--within ten days."

"Very well." I relaxed, sitting back in the chair somewhat instead of the earnest, leaned-forward posture Anthony always adopted when discussing new ideas. "Have there been any new developments around the Academy that I ought to know about?"

It turns out that there were a few minor things, plus one that I had been waiting three years for someone to stumble across. One of our researchers in the electrical division had found a way to use two metal plates and a specially-prepared acid bath to hold energy obtained from the magnet turbines, and release it later. That had been one of my very first "dreams," I'd shared, though I had no idea as to the specifics of it. And now, three years later, we'd finally invented the voltaic cell!

I hurried over to see his work. "Oh, this is a true marvel!" I enthused. "Storing the Force Electric in bottles of acid!"

The researcher was a short fellow with a full, red-brown beard by the name of Joseph McConnel, who was rumored to have some dwarvish ancestry. Ugh. I hope they don't end up following the same path here as with the inventor of the voltaic cell back home. It just wouldn't sound right to walk into a store and buy some 9-connel batteries! "Aye, I suppose it is," he mused. "Though--and please don't take this wrongly, Mr. Stark--but we've still to see a practical use for this Force Electric. Giving people a shock when they touch a plate can be good for a laugh, but it won't grow food or erect a house!"

I nodded slowly. "That's true. But I've been thinking." I clasped my hands and leaned forward slightly, adopting my trademark "earnest Anthony" pose. "You can put the Force Electric into your bottless... and then pull it back out again. You reverse the process, see?"

He gave a little nod. "That's true," he said, though it was clear he didn't quite follow.

"Well," I continued, "where does the Force Electric come from?"

"From the wheel and the wires and the lodestone... aha!" I saw the light come on in his eyes. "You think we can reverse that as well? Use the Force Electric to turn a lodestone attached to a waterwheel?" Then he grinned, and I knew he was starting to put things together. "Or just any wheel! A spinster's wheel, or a carriage wheel! Perhaps even a millstone. Can you imagine a mill with no river, Mr. Stark? Driven by McConnel Jars, taking their power from a river miles away?"

I like this guy! He's got vision. I give him the slightest little nudge towards the electric motor and he's dreaming up electric cars! Can't say I care for the name McConnel Jars, though, but hey, you can't have everything. "Well, let's not get too far ahead of ourselves," I said. "We've got no evidence yet that it's possible to create such a device, just a theory that it should exist."

He frowned a little when I brought him back to reality. "Aye," he agreed grudgingly. "Well, we'll have to look into it."

The next two weeks went by pretty normally for the academy. I spent most of my time fluttering from one project to the next, offering advice, listening to ideas, observing experiments, and helping to settle a few disputes. Even researchers and engineers trained in strict empiricism have egos, and they can get into arguments about the strangest things. It always surprises me how often the things they're arguing over are theoretical, but not so theoretical as to be out of reach, so that I end up settling things by suggesting that they run an experiment and see whose idea of "what would happen" turns out to match reality.

I even put in an appearance or two at the Magical Research Division, a small stone tower, not much larger than Robert de Long's--though much better constructed--across the river from the rest of the town and the Academy. I didn't stay long, though. The magical ring I wore to suppress the Twist was nowhere near foolproof, and the last thing those researchers needed was havoc like that breaking out in their laboratories. (Plus, the last thing I needed was to be exposed like that!)

But the true momentous occasion was towards the end of the second week. The smith had been experimenting on chromium, and as expected he didn't manage to produce any particularly bendy alloys. But one morning, an apprentice sought me out, carrying a wooden bucket filled with water.

"Mr Stark! Have a look at this!" On the bottom of the bucket was a small, shattered fragment of shiny steel.

I grinned when I realized what I was looking at. "How long has that been in that bucket?"

"Overnight, Mr. Stark, and before that it was sitting around in the open for a day. And it--"

"--it hasn't rusted," I said. "Now tell me truly, who was it who noticed this?"

"'Twas me, sir. I saw it had sat out and not grown rust. The Master said to sink it in the bucket for a night, to test it and help it along."

I smiled at the youth. "Well done on both of you. Come along with me?" I had him follow me to my quarters, and wait inside while I retrieved something. "You can pour out the water now," I said, making sure to retrieve the new steel fragment. "Let's head back to the smithy."

We walked over together, and the youth introduced me to the Master, a tall, broad-shouldered fellow by the name of Thomas Franklin. He was busy beating a glowing bar of iron into some shape--looked like a horseshoe. "Mr. Stark!" Apparently knew who I was, which was good.

"Mr. Franklin. It seems you've made quite the discovery. Steel that doesn't rust?"

"Aye. I thought you were looking for longbow steel, but it seems this may be an even greater find."

"You may be right, Mr. Franklin. Thank you for sending the sample over to me. Your apprentice tells me he was the first to notice it was not growing rust, and you were the one who thought up testing it in a bucket of water. Is that so?"

He nodded. "Even so, sir. The lad's a bright one."

I smiled. "That's good to here. You two are just the sort of people I'd like to see more of around here." I pulled out the coin pouch I had retrieved, and dug out three gold two-delin coins. "A reward, from the Academy, for your discovery. Four for you, and two for your apprentice." It was a handsome reward, around half a month's earnings for him, and probably more than that for the lad. They held out their hands, but I closed my fingers around the gold. "In return, I'd like to know exactly how you crafted this sample of steel, in writing. Can you do that for me?"

His brow furrowed as he thought about that for a moment, then he frowned. "You wish to buy the secret off of me at such a low price, sir, and spread it abroad from your academy? I know what I could get for steel that grows no rust!"

I nodded, trying to keep an amicable smile. "Oh, I've got a good idea of it myself," I agreed. "I also see how small your smithy is. If you were the only supplier, you could set a high price, but there's precious little of it you could make." Time to apply the screws a little. Wave the stick, and then offer a carrot. "Especially without the Academy's help supplying chromium, right? On the other hand, if you work with us, we can help you improve your facility. More forges, more apprentices to work them. We would publish the discovery under your name. Franklin Steel, the steel that grows no rust! Should you share your knowledge rather than hoard it, it would bring you prestige within the Smiths' Guild. You'd be seen as an honored master. A discovery like this could revolutionize your industry!"

And one more stick, just to be sure. "Or, we could speak with another smith. It took you little enough time once you had the idea of experimenting with chromium-alloy steel. I doubt it would be so difficult to duplicate your results. But I'd prefer to work with the man who discovered it first. The decision is yours, sir."

He scowled, but in the end he had to concede my point. "Very well, Mr. Stark. Send one of your scribes over."

I gave him my brightest smile. "You'll not regret this, Mr. Franklin!" I dropped two of the gold coins on his anvil, and pressed the third into the apprentice's palm.

I walked back over to the administrative building, looking for a scribe. Evan greeted me as I walked in, looking like he was just on his way out. "Ah, Mr. Stark. There you are. There's a man here from the Bards' College to see you."

"Send him to my office, then." I wondered what a bard would want with us. News of the McConnel Jar might have gotten around by now, but it's not the sort of thing most people would be interested in, until we started producing practical applications. "And can we send a scribe over to the smithy? Mr. Franklin's managed to create a chromium-alloy steel that doesn't rust, even submerged in water."

Evan laughed teasingly at the news of the fortuitous discovery. "But does it bend like a bow, Mr. Stark?"

I shook my head. "No, but he ought to keep trying with other metals. We'll find something that works, I still believe that."

I walked off down the corridor, to my office, then stiffened slightly at the sight of the man slouching slightly in the chair in front of my desk. It was Patrick Hill.

OK, gotta keep my game face on. I don't look like Clark Kent. I don't talk like him. I don't walk like him. And I don't know this man sitting here. Deep breath, let it out slowly. "Good morning, sir. What brings you to Stark Academy?"

He just flashed me an impish little grin. "Stark, is it? I thought it was Clark."

Well, crap. So much for my game face.

"Oh, don't look so crestfallen. You've got a lot of people fooled. You really ought to feel proud of that. But you're in the business of information and knowledge here, and that's what brings me to your academy today. You see, a man with two names could just as easily be a man with three, or perhaps more."

I narrowed my eyes. "What are you talking about, Mr. Hill?"

Then he said the words that changed the course of my life forever. "Unless I'm very much mistaken, you're from quite a ways from here. I bear news from your home... Paul. From the distant kingdom of Denver."

4: Hill

Chapter 4
Hill

At the risk of sounding like a bad pop song, never had something so wrong felt so right. Denver is not my home; heck, I've never been there in my life. It's also not a kingdom. And I'm really not sure the word "distant" applies, at least not in the conventional sense.

Oh, and of course Paul's not my real name.

And yet, what he said meant exactly what it's supposed to mean. Someone has heard of me. Someone understood what the names I chose mean. Someone from back home.

But who? I shut the door tightly, then looked at Hill with the most level expression I could muster at the moment, trying not to let my astonishment show. "You," I said slowly, "are not from Denver."

"True," he said, a slight smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth. "I understand it's quite a difficult journey, and harder still to return."

I raised an eyebrow. "You know someone who's returned from here?"

The bard shook his head. "No. Apparently it's quite hard indeed," he remarked dryly.

"OK, what do you know?"

He gave me an infuriating little grin. "It's not what I know that's important," he said, "but what I believe. Your kingdom, Denver... it is not of our world at all. You are of the Drift, are you not?"

The Drift. It was a legend I'd heard a few times. From what I'd been able to piece together, wherever I am now was connected to Earth at one point, long, long ago. They have stories, faded to legend and myth but still recognizable if you knew what you were listening to, about ancient Babylon, Egypt, Persia, Rome, and so on. But nothing about the Crusades, the Black Plague, the Renaissance, and so forth. At some point, over a thousand years ago, whatever it was in our world that held all of the magic just... drifted away somehow. It works both ways, really. From what I've seen and learned in my travels, I think that a lot of ancient legends of mystical realms--Eden, Olympus, Avalon, Shangri-la, Faerie, El Dorado--derived from times when our world had direct communion with this one. And here, from their perspective, it's our world, the Stonelands, the Drift, that separated from theirs.

And apparently the separation was not quite perfect. At least two people had crossed over, somehow. And the less people here knew about the truth of the matter, the better. I shook my head. "The Drift is nothing but an ancient myth. Not even proper lore for a self-respecting bard to concern himself with."

Hill raised an eyebrow. "That's not what April says."

A name! Now we're getting somewhere! "Who is April?"

"An old friend," he replied, biting his lip, seemingly thinking about what to tell me. "She is a powerful sorceress in another kingdom, with some rather unique talents. And when she heard of Clark Kent and Wayne Bruce--I assume that man is you as well?--she told me that those names were a code. They were borrowed from the lore of her people, tales of great heroes who hid their true identities behind false names. She said it could only be that a man from the Drift wished for any compatriot to know that he was here, while obscuring the truth from any who did not know the code."

I nodded slowly. "I'm glad to hear that she understood. And why did she not come to seek me out herself?" If she's such a powerful sorceress-well, first off that would mean she's nothing like me. I don't work magic; I break it. But if she was, she really ought to be able to come meet me instead of sending a bard.

Hill closed his eyes, and a brief look of sadness crossed his face. "She is strong in magic," he said, "but not in health. Where you are barely more than a child, she is an old woman. Her arts have preserved her life far beyond the span of most humans, but she is not immortal."

Barely more than a child? Bah! Stupid teenage body! Stupid being stuck in a form that... doesn't... age?

Woah.

Maybe this April was like me afterall.

"So why didn't you tell me all this the first time we met?"

He gave me a "are you stupid?" look. "In the middle of a crowded tavern?"

I rolled my eyes. "Fair enough. So, your friend April sent you to find me, and... do what? Tell me about her? Is that all?"

"And tell you a message," Hill replied. "I am April O'Neil, and you must be as the Angel Michael to me." He cocked his head to the side a little. "That makes me wonder. Is her name a code, as yours are?"

The words tickled my brain a little, but nothing came to mind. "I'm sorry, I don't recognize it," I said. And what's all that about the Angel Michael? As in Michael, the Archangel? From the Bible?

But no, he didn't say "archangel," just "angel." If that's what I was meant to think of, she'd have used a wording I would recognize.

Then it clicked. Translation problems. People here didn't speak English, no matter how I heard it. It was a bit disorienting to talk to people sometimes, because their lips moved wrong for the words I would hear. It was like watching a bad kung-fu movie sometimes. Somehow--something about the magic of this place--we just understood each other. But if the name April gave for the angel wasn't English in the first place...

...wow, that took me back. I looked up as it all fell into place. "Wait. Yes, I think I do know the lore. Tell me, your friend April, is she happy here?" Where I had chosen the names of superheroes, she had picked a chronic damsel in distress.

Hill nodded, immediately. "Very much so," he said. "Why?"

"Because that's not what the code means. She feels like a prisoner, and she believes that I am the person who can rescue her."

"As the Angel Michael?" Hill asked dubiously.

I sighed. "He's not an angel. It's... a long story." And not one a bard should go spreading lore about! Though the concept might be a bit too silly for me to have to worry about that anyway. "So, she wanted you to bring me back with you?"

He nodded. "She said that when I had told you that, that you would come to her."

And part of me wanted to. The impulsive, thrillseeking part that was still a teenager, the side of me that enjoyed being Paul Twister, wanted to drop everything and set out on an adventure to go meet the mysterious April O'Neil. If she thought I could rescue her, and her imprisonment was simply being here--clearly Hill didn't think of her as a prisoner-then she thought I held the key to getting back home!

Clearly she didn't know enough about me, then. I don't work magic; I break it. I shook my head. "I'm sorry, but she was mistaken. I have obligations here at the Academy, and in the capital, and various other places throughout the kingdom. As much as I would enjoy it, I simply don't have time to go travelling to... wherever she is, right now. It's a long journey, right?"

Hill sighed. "She said you would be willing to help," he muttered.

"And I am," I said. "If she can come here. If not, tell me where I can find her, and I'll come when I have time. But right now, I don't. Tell her, though, that she has my word that I will come to visit her before a year is up."

"A year?"

"It's the best promise I can make, Mr. Hill."

He narrowed his eyes at me suddenly. "I could expose you. I know your secret."

Wow. Blackmail? That's unexpected, and it smacked of desperation. And it's kind of silly--but then again, desperate acts frequently are. "And I could call for the guards, tell them that you came here to extort me, and it would be ten years before you saw your friend again." I paused a moment to let the counter-threat sink in. "But I won't. Right?"

The bard closed his eyes and sighed. "...right."

A flash of intuition came to me. "April is more than a friend to you, isn't she?"

He winced, almost as if in pain, and I understood. The charming minstrel seducing the fair maiden was one of the oldest cliches in the book, even here. But Hill had managed to get it backwards. He had fallen for her, and she didn't know, and she had obliviously sent him out on a quest to fulfill her deepest desire: sending her home. And even when he understood, he still wanted me to come. To make her happy, no matter what the consequence to him would be. Having been a geek in high school, I could definitely empathize.

"I see," I said softly. I waited until he opened his eyes, then met his gaze. "Count yourself happy," I advised in a low, soft tone. "She won't be leaving anytime soon. But, if it's what you truly want, I will come, when I can. Just tell me where to find her."

He sighed and took out a small piece of parchment and a thin stick of charcoal. I held up a hand to stop him. "Wait." I moved around to sit behind my desk, and prepared some parchment and a quill pen and inkpot of my own. Ugh, nasty things. Someday I'm going to have to have someone around here invent a ballpoint pen. "Say it to me, I'll write." Last thing I needed was an address in the local script!

He gave me an odd look, then shrugged. "Very well. City of Tary, Kingdom of Anduin. O'Neil Manor, on Shade Pine Road, overlooking the river." Yeah, there's no way I'd make it that far in anything less than a month. Probably longer; that's about a thousand miles from here, a serious trip even if I had a car! Like Denver, it's a distant place I've heard of but never been to.

"You have come a long way," I remarked. "How did the news of my alter-egos reach Anduin?"

"It didn't," he said. "But it reached her. Magi have their own lines of communication." He looked at what I had written on the parchment, and chuckled softly. "It's true, then. You are of Denver. You write in the same secret script that she uses."

Well, I wasn't about to disabuse him of his misconceptions. Knowledge is power, and he had entirely too much knowledge about me. And if he was friends with a sorceress from back home... that was just kind of creepy. We don't have magic back home. Although, it's interesting to see that she lived in a manor, and not a tower. She sounds like quite the remarkable person. Hopefully I'll be able to find some time soon to make the trip, even if all I'd be doing was letting her down about my inability to work the magic she needs.

Hill slowly got to his feet. "Thank you, Paul Twister. You are a better man than I had hoped."

Well, there's a backhanded compliment if I've ever heard one! "That, or a better actor than you'd expected," I said with a crooked grin. "You're welcome to enjoy the hospitality of the Academy for a day or two before you leave."

He nodded. "I think I will," he said as he turned and headed for the door.

Wow. This morning, my most pressing cares in the world were figuring out how to get spring steel invented, and keeping the idea of monopoly rights from taking hold at the Academy. And now... this. What I'd been hoping for for the last ten years had actually happened, and it turned out to not be what I wanted at all!

Figures.

5: Unexpected Companion

Chapter 5
Unexpected Companion

Hill stayed the rest of the day, putting on a performance in the evening for the students and researchers. I still don't like the guy, but I have to admit he did a good job. He's a heck of a musician, whatever else may be said about him. He decided to leave the next day, and I ran into him on his way out of the Academy. I'm not sure why I did it, but I told him to tell April one thing that would give her hope: "Live long and prosper." It just felt right for some reason.

He seemed rather bemused by the statement, and asked me what that was a code for. I told him that it was nothing more than what it sounded like, a simple benediction, and that it was a line from a famous theatrical work, which anyone from Denver ought to recognize. For a brief moment I considered teaching him the associated hand gesture, but I thought better of it.

I was almost ready to leave too, so I retrieved the gemstones I'd received as part of my payment for the last job from the mages at the Magical Research department. I'd left them at the tower to have them infused with magical energy, a process that worked a lot better if it could be done slowly. Paul always demanded at least 50 delin out of the 300 be in the form of precious stones, because there were things I needed the little power-batteries for. I took two of the smaller stones and used some very delicate jewelers' tools to set them in my ring-it needed a constant source of energy to replace the power lost to the Twist-and kept a few more in my pouch as replacements, then deposited the rest in the room in my special vault in the back of the stables. I'd had that room very heavily warded and protected by cunning traps, built "so even Paul Twister couldn't get in," and everyone at the academy knew better than to go in there. (The one student who had been dumb enough to try had scared the idea out of everyone else, hopefully forever, when he ended up turned into a horse. Took the mages three days to reverse the curse.)

I hung around a few more days, looking over a few projects, providing some minor insights, but mostly I stayed out of the researchers' way. I know a few things about science, but I'm really not much of a scientist, or a creator at all. I may know intellectually that stainless steel is made of steel and chromium, but I don't know the first thing about making steel, so instead I got a guy who knows how to make steel and said 'try putting some chromium in there," and let him take care of the parts he's good at. So my job at Stark Academy mostly involves a lot of me staying out of people's way, and that's why I tend to be away from it for long periods.

So instead I spent most of my time at the Academy with the students, particularly in the physical disciplines. Being Paul Twister can be pretty demanding on the body, and the Twist means I can't use magic to augment my abilities, so I have to be able to do all my own stunts, by myself. I've always been in decent shape, but no one ever mistook me for a big hulking football-player type back home, or for a sellsword or royal knight here. No, in high school I ran track and played baseball, the Sport of Nerds. Never made higher than JV on either team, but I did all right for myself. (Having strong, fast legs definitely comes in handy on some jobs, though I've never really had any need to swing a bat or catch a fly ball.) But anyway, while I was here at the academy, I practiced the martial arts.

The term might sound strange, considering that the magical world I'm stuck in-or at least this part of it-has a decidedly European/Western Fantasy flavor to it, but keep in mind that the name of the term comes from Mars, the Roman God of War, counterpart to the Greek Ares. It's not just kung fu and karate. I sparred with the students in fencing and unarmed fighting, competed with them in races and obstacle courses, and managed to hold my own in archery. I just didn't have the brute strength to draw a serious longbow, but I did well enough on smaller bows.

They didn't let us train crossbowmanship, of course. That's a freaking scary weapon that can punch a hole the size of my fist in a solid steel breastplate. Only soldiers are legally allowed to possess one.

Paul has two, carefully hidden in safe houses among other gear. I practice with them very privately, just in case. I've brought them along on jobs a grand total of three times. I haven't had to fire them either time. I hope I never do. Ugh. Just the thought makes me queasy. Even a gun can be used to just disable someone, if you really know what you're doing, but I don't think it's possible to put a crossbow bolt in someone and not end up with a huge, bloody mess.

Speaking of guns, that's one thing Anthony Stark will never have one of his funny dreams about: mixing charcoal, brimstone and saltpeter and seeing what happens.

But anyway, I practiced fighting mostly to keep my body in shape, not because I got in a lot of fights. I don't, but the few times it has happened, I've sure been glad I knew what I was doing, so that's sort of a side benefit. But I had somewhere I needed to be, so after a few days I told Evan the Academy was his (as if it wasn't already, even while I was present, but it's part of the "eccentric visionary" persona so I have to say it) and headed off late in the morning.

It was about a two days' ride to the capital, and that's if you've only got one horse. You have to take it easy with a horse. They get worn out carrying around 200 pounds of human-plus-whatever-else-you're-hauling, just like you or I would. (Just not as quickly.) With two horses, you can spread the burden out. You still have to slow down when the first one gets worn out, but not nearly as much, and I figured I could get there by sundown the second day.

I kept to the cement-paved road alongside the river for the first day, then made camp. If I set out early the next morning, I ought to reach the King's Highway before noon, and from there it would be just a few hours to Keliar. I thought about Hill and April as I lay there. They'd been on my mind the whole day. Something about his story just didn't add up. He described her as being all old, that her health was failing in her advanced age. How had a guy in the prime of life fallen for a girl like that? Sure, some guys are into older women, and there's nothing wrong with that, but there's a point at which it gets ridiculous. And from his description their pairing is a bit on the far side of that point. Even if he was a good deal older than he looked--and I swear he must wear his hair like that just to frustrate people who want to get a good look at his ears--it didn't quite feel right if she was long-lived too.

There was something else that felt wrong about his story, but I couldn't quite put a finger on it, and it had been driving me up the wall ever since he talked to me. There was a missing piece, something I needed to know but didn't know, and I didn't even know what it was! As a guy whose only real advantage in life is information, (yeah, I'm serious; the Twist is a curse as far as I'm concerned, not an advantage,) having something important that I didn't know hanging over me like that was driving me nuts.

But finally, sleep began to overtake me. And suddenly, in that muzzy state somewhere between lucidity and dreams, it hit me. "Magi have their own lines of communication." That's what Hill had told me. And if she could have heard of me all the way in Anduin... I tensed all the muscles in my arms and chest suddenly and forced some adrenaline into my system. I'm not sure exctly how it works; it's a trick I've been able to do ever since I was a kid. But the end result was that I was wide awake. You get an insight like that at a time like that, you don't want to let yourself fall asleep and forget about it. I quickly dug through my pack for my writing case and scrawled a note to myself: "Find out what local mages know about April." I hoped it would be legible enough to remind me in the morning; it was too dark to write by and see what I was doing, and our electrical research at the academy wasn't far enough along yet that I could get someone to invent the lightbulb.

Then I sighed and crawled into my bedroll again and tried to get back to sleep. It took a while, but eventually I did doze off.

I probably shouldn't need to point this out, but I was all alone. Aside from the horses tied outside near the riverbank, I was the only living being around bigger than the insects I could hear buzzing and chirping their usual nighttime symphony out beyond the walls of my tent. Specifically, there wasn't anyone in my tent with me. More specifically, there was not a pretty girl with me. But I probably shouldn't need to point this out. And normally I wouldn't. But the next morning wasn't normal.

Guess what I woke up next to the next morning?

There was something soft and warm and snuggly pressed right up against me, and felt a lot like bare skin and soft hair. And it was moving very subtly back and forth, in a rhythm very similar to my own slow breathing. And then I realized that I could feel warm air moving gently against my cheek, again, just like breaths.

I was immediately freaked out. OK, no, I take that back. My first reaction was... well, you can probably guess. Stupid teenage body! Stupid raging hormones! But my second reaction, my first rational one, was fear. Either I was being set up to be robbed by a pack of bandits--setups like this have been known to happen in some parts of the kingdom--or a nymph had somehow found her way into my tent, and my bedroll, without even waking me up! And this close to the capital, I wouldn't bet on it being highwaymen. Awww crap.

No one really knew where nymphs came from. They're incarnate nature spirits, bound to natural features--bodies of water, forests, mountains, stuff like that--in some sort of symbiotic relationship. They take the form of amazingly beautiful women, they never wear anything to cover themselves with, and they tend to be very sweet and affectionate towards visitors to their domain, particularly visitors of the male variety. Very affectionate. It's not a coincidence that the term "nymphomaniac" is based on them.

Problem is, as much as they may look like a beautiful girl, they're not human. They're a thing of nature, and they lack a real understanding of human priorities. What they do to men who end up in their domain is completely natural and innocent... and has been known to leave them dead from exhaustion because the poor nymph doesn't know when to quit. There are worse ways to go, I suppose, but I've still got a bunch of living left to do, thank you very much!

It could be even worse. I opened my eyes and looked over, trying to get a good look at my unexpected companion in the dim light. If she had crimson skin and black hair, I was going to have to grab her and--hey, get your mind out of the gutter! Half-nymphs do exist, and if the other parent was a demon, what you get is a succubus. They're a lot like nymphs, only minus the whole "innocent" part. And the only thing that would protect me if I'd somehow attracted a succubus's attention--and I wouldn't put it past a few wizards I've had dealings with in the past to sic one on me as an assassination attempt--would be to try to conciously invoke the Twist and hope it did something that disabled her long enough for me to get away. And it worked by physical contact.

But no, the girl laying next to me had skin-colored skin (the light was still too dim to really tell how light or dark, but it definitely wasn't a deep red,) and light blue hair. And a bunch of very inviting curves that I forced myself not to look at for too long, lest it weaken my resolve. Blue hair. River spirit, most likely.

What in the world had caused a naiad to wander into my tent at night, snuggle up with me like this, and then just... fall asleep? I was still in my nightclothes, and I certainly didn't feel like I'd been molested in my sleep. And from everything I heard, that's not how an encounter with a nymph was supposed to happen! Not that I was complaining, of course. (Or, well, not the rational part of me, at least. Stupid teenage body!)

She must have felt me moving, because she stirred slightly, snuggled against me more closely, and gave a happy little sigh right in my ear. Then her eyes opened, and she gave a soft, pleasant little giggle. "Hello!" she said, as if this wasn't anything out of the ordinary. (And maybe for her it wasn't?)

I wasn't about to wait around for her to try and seduce me. Being rational is awesome and all that, but I'm rational enough to know my limits, and I knew if I didn't get her away quickly, this would end in a whole lot of fun that abruptly ended in a whole lot of not-fun, and as fun as that might be at first, it's not worth the tradeoff. So I needed to be grumpy and hostile. "Who are you, and what are you doing in my tent?" I asked, grabbing her wrist firmly to ensure she wouldn't be able to use any magic to get to me.

She giggled again, as if she found the situation amusing. "I'm Alira," she replied, her voice light and girlish and innocent. "I'm the spirit of this riverbank. Why are you making camp in my home and then acting surprised when I accept the invitation?"

This riverbank? the intellectual part of me asked. That's a pretty vague term, and I couldn't help but wonder exactly how far her domain extended.

Another part of me was wondering about much less decent subject matter. I told it to shut up and leave me alone.

"I must apologize, Alira," I said, going all formal-like. Wild spirits in general tend to have a lot of appreciation for respect. "I was not aware that this riverbank had its own nymph, or I would not have entered your domain unbidden."

Her face clouded at my words. "Why... what did you do to me?" she asked, looking slightly worried.

"What do you mean? I didn't do anything to you; I've been asleep all night." What did I do to her?! I should be the one asking that question!

"Who are you, visitor?" Uh oh. I didn't like where this is headed.

"My name is Anthony Stark," I said. I hadn't shaved yet, so for the moment at least that's still who I was.

She shook her head. "No it isn't." How in the world did she know that?

"It's the name I'll give you. Is your True Name really Alira?" Of course not; that would just be stupid on her part. Nymphs may tend to lack the same sense of perspective as humans, but they're as intelligent as any sentient race. Heck, I've even heard that there was a dryad enrolled at the Royal Academy!

"That's still not your name," she insisted. "Something's wrong inside of me. My desire... isn't there!" She looked confused and worried.

Woah. So that's why she just snuggled up and drifted off with me! I must have Twisted her in my sleep, when she first touched me. (I always slept with the ring off, just in case I ended up needing to defend myself against magic in the middle of the night. It's happened before.) I was relieved, bordering on ecstatic. Never in my life had I been so happy to hear a beautiful girl tell me she did not desire me!

She looked at me with wide, fearful eyes. Holy crap! She must be just as scared of me, of what I could do to her, as I was of her! "Are you the one they call the Warper?"

No, I'm the one they call the Twister. Close enough, though. I've made up enough names for myself; it's not beyond possibility that some people I've never met have come up with a few of their own. I brushed two fingers across her cheek gently, trying to comfort her. The one thing I really did not want to see was this beautiful creature crying. No way that would have ended well, no matter how I responded. "I haven't heard that name before," I admitted, "but yeah, I... think that might be me." OK, now that that's out in the open, best to resolve things quickly. "It's not permanant; you'll get your desire back. You should go take a swim in your river. The warping won't last too long."

She sniffled slightly and looked up at me. I was grateful that it wasn't very light yet, or I might have seen the tears that were almost certainly there in her eyes. "You promise?" she asked, in a almost-afraid-to-be-hopeful tone.

I nodded. "I promise, Alira. You'll be back to normal before sundown." And with no me around to take care of her "desire" once she got it back. I turned and reached for my pack. "Here," I said, pulling out the pouch where I kept the infused gemstones. "To show there are no hard feelings." I poured the tiny stones-about half a dozen of them-out into my palm, and then picked out one. An aquamarine. The magic didn't actually make them glow, but it did make them a lot more shiny and sparkly, making it easy to tell them apart in the dim light. Luckily, for reasons I hadn't figured out yet, they were safe for me to touch without my Ring. It seemed that the Twist did not disrupt or discharge stored magical energy; it only Twisted actual active magical effects. "This will go well with your hair," I said, pressing it into her palm.

Spirits were well-known to appreciate things of magic crafted by mortals as gifts, and, stereotypical or not, giving jewelry to a pretty girl just felt right, even if it was as a sort of weird token of non-affection.

Alira gave me a slightly shy smile as she closed her hand around it. "Thank you," she whispered. Then she closed her eyes and leaned in before I could react, brushing her lips gently against mine. It wasn't a very hard or aggressive kiss, but she let it linger for a few seconds, and... wow, it felt nice. A little bit too nice, in fact.  A little bit too lingering. And then, just as I was right at the point of surrendering, tangling my fingers in her hair with one hand and using the other to pull off my nightclothes and let nature take its course--missing nymphly libido or no, I really doubt she'd have had any problem with reciprocating my desire if I'd tried for her--she suddenly pulled away. While I was left panting and slightly disoriented from that kiss, she quickly scampered out of my tent, leaving me with a very memorable image of her from the rear.

Stupid teenage hormones! I took a deep breath and counted to ten. Then I carefully counted to ten minutes, before finally getting out of the tent myself and starting to break camp. Alira was nowhere to be seen, but just to be safe, I made sure I was a good two miles away before going down into the river to wash myself that morning.

It was a good thing I'd written down my insight of the night before, because the morning encounter had driven it completely out of my mind, and I didn't remember about it until after I arrived in Keliar.

6: Capital Offence

Chapter 6

Capital Offense

I made it in to Keliar without any further trouble, around midday. I stabled my horses, then stopped in at an apartment owned by Mr. Stark to rest for a while. Even when you've been doing it for years, riding a horse for an extended period can be really tiring! I ate the last of my trail rations, shaved, and rested for maybe half an hour, but then I had stuff to do.

First I headed out to a handful of different couriers around the business district, discreetly dispatching packages to various parts of the kingdom. Most of them contained money, packed in sawdust so they wouldn't call attention to themselves by jingling. Different alter-egos of mine owed money to different people for various reasons--maintaining one cover identity is expensive enough, let alone six--and a good portion of my earnings from the last job went to keeping current on them. Afterall, the less reason I give anyone to start poking around and looking too deeply into any of my identities, the better. Hill was proof of that!

By the time the money stuff was all taken care of, it was getting on towards evening. One more courier to send off, with a quick inquiry to the Magi, then it was showtime. I headed back to my apartment to put my game face on--literally. Small, carefully shaped wooden prostheses in my mouth to alter the shape of my jaw, theatrical putty to make my nose and forehead a little bit more prominent, black dye for my hair, a careful application of powdered coffee beans to my skin to give it a darker tone, and I came out looking like a totally different man. I headed off to the Drowned Rat, a seedy little tavern down by the docks, for my appointment.

I didn't know why someone had put the word out months in advance that they wanted to hire Paul Twister. Maybe they just weren't sure it would reach me quickly? But whatever their reason, they had requested this meeting, and I had bills to pay. I walked in to the dimly-lit room, and quickly started to breathe through my mouth. The scent of unwashed bodies was almost palpable. Lovely. Men sat around rough wooden tables, drinking and chatting, and a few of them had what appeared to be honest-to-goodness tavern wenches sitting across their laps, leaning into them all flirtatious-like.

I asked the bartender where I could find the back room, where I had been instructed to meet my newest benefactor. The burly, sweaty man squinted at me. "It's in use," he grunted.

"I know," I replied, as pleasantly as I could. "I'm supposed to be meeting a colleague there. He said to mention the tail of a serpent?" The password must have worked. Kind of dumb, but at least it wasn't "swordfish". The bartender nodded, then pointed me to the room.

I walked through the door and found the small room much more brightly lit than the main one. About half of the floor space was taken up by a wooden table, with three lit candles burning surprisingly bright. There was a man seated at the table, wearing what looked to be a rather heavy robe of a dark greenish color. He wore a fairly thick brown mustache above his upper lip, but aside from that there was no hair anywhere on his head, not even eyebrows or lashes. And maybe it was the light, but his skin looked caramel-colored. And I mean that literally. Back home, when we say "caramel colored skin" it usually means "pretty Latina girl," but actual caramel isn't just brownish; it has a noticeable yellow-orange tint to it. So did this guy's skin, and that's not something you see every day. Or... ever, really.

He looked up at me when I entered, but his eyes, the same deep green as the robe he wore, didn't quite focus on me right. He hadn't even said anything yet, and he was starting to give me the creeps already! Everything about him was just a little bit wrong, a little bit unnatural. "Greetings, Paul Twister," the man said, and a little shiver passed through me. Even his voice was kind of off, just a little bit hollow. I really didn't know what kind of person was sitting there, but my instincts were telling me he was something else, masquerading as a human. "Please, take a seat."

I sat down hesitantly, one hand sliding down to finger the hilt of the dagger I had concealed in one of my boots. Though if worse came to worse, I wondered if I actually might be more effective simply touching him? But for the moment, no treachery had occurred, so you have to still play by the rules. Assume good faith, or at least pretend like you do. "You wanted to speak with me?"

"My mistress did," he said in that strangely hollow voice, looking at me and through me. "I am but a... conduit, of sorts." He looked down, almost as if he was looking through the tabletop. "You will not need the dagger. You are in no danger here, unless you fail in the task that my Mistress has assigned to you, and should that be the case, the danger would not be from me. I pose no threat to you." The calm, matter-of-fact way in which he said that made my skin crawl. It was not exactly an emotionless monotone; he spoke with some inflections, but they were subtly wrong inflections that didn't rise and fall the way his speech should have. Either whatever was at the other end of the "conduit" had some serious trouble framing their words, or he was using a language so strange that it was throwing whatever magic there was translating everything for me for a loop somehow. His lips didn't move in sync with the words I heard, but I was so used to that that I didn't count it as particularly strange anymore.

"I haven't agreed to any tasks yet," I pointed out, looking him in the eyes. He looked back up at me, but again his eyes didn't quite meet mine correctly.

"My mistress finds this irrelevant," he stated with infuriating calm. "Something of great worth was stolen from her. Your services are required in returning it, as it would be... unfortunate should she have to retrieve it herself."

I cocked my head to the side a little. "Unfortunate how?"

A creepy smile tugged upwards at the corners of the man's lips. "My mistress," he said simply, "is known in your kingdom as Ryell."

OK, that explains a lot! Ryell was a reclusive golden dragon of immense power. An uneasy peace existed between mankind and dragons, sort of a stalemate situation. Ever since the rise of the Magi, it was generally understood that there were no dragons in the world who could stand against a determined effort to kill one of them, but that in most cases such an effort would cause so much collateral damage (before being successful) that it would not be worth it.

"I see," I said, a little bit shaken. "What was stolen, then?"

"A shed scale from her tail," the man said. "When you find it, it will have the appearance of solid gold but the strength of iron, curved, smooth on the outward side and rough-textured on the inward side. It will be about as large as your open hand, and half again as thick."

Wow! That's a lot of gold... or whatever the golden dragon's scales are made from. I've heard that dragon scales are highly prized by alchemists and artificers because the dragon's body produces substances that cannot be created by any other known process. And yet, if she had shed it...

"I'm afraid I don't understand. Why would a single discarded scale be considered 'of great worth' to your Mistress?" I know I don't have any particular fondness for my own cut hair or nail clippings.

"Why is it considered of great worth to your magicians?" the conduit-man responded.

Well, that's a non-answer if I've ever heard one, but that's probably the best I'd get out of him. "Fair enough. So who do I need to retrieve the scale from, and where would I find them?"

His response was about the last thing I'd have ever expected. "In two days, the burglar who stole her scale away will be in this city, seeking a buyer. It will be purchased by one Fiona Khal, of the Magi. She will keep it close for some few days, before attempting to use it for her magics in a way that would damage the scale. You are to retrieve it from her before that time."

I blinked slowly at him. "Wait a second. It's just some adventurer carrying the thing around right now, and you or some other conduit can't just ambush them?"

The man shook his head. "It is to be retrieved after Fiona Khal has purchased it." The more I talked with this guy-or the dragon pulling his strings, or whoever it was I was talking to-the less I liked him. He could be infuriatingly short on explanations and useful details.

"All right. So the adventurer has a deal with Khal to sell artifacts to her?"

"No. The two have no existing relationship. She is simply the one who will purchase the scale from him."

That kinda threw me even more. "Your Mistress can foretell the future?" Prophecy could be a very dangerous thing to mess with, afterall.

He shook his head. "No; she simply sees what is, as it lays before her. Fiona Khal is the person who is to purchase the scale. You are the person who is to retrieve it."

So... no except yes. Yeah, that's perfectly clear. "If you say so. Once I have it, what do I do with it?"

The man pulled a scrap of tattered brown-gray cloth from a pocket of his robe, and set it on the table. It was folded, and looked to be about large enough for a bandanna if it were laid out flat. "Wrap this around it, and it will be returned to my Mistress."

I held up my hands in a defensive-style gesture. "I'm not sure you want me messing with teleportation enchantments..."

"I do not, of course," he said in that wrongly-inflected voice. "This is but a simple scrap of old, worthless cloth. Touch it. You will see that there is no magic in it. It is nothing but a thing that my is familiar enough with to attune to her will. The enchantment, as you put it, is in her, not in the cloth."

Well. It seemed Ryell had everything all figured out! "All right," I said slowly, picking up the cloth. As promised, I didn't feel anything Twisting against my fingers. "And once it's done, where will I meet you for payment?" Usually I demand the cash up front, of course, but there were enough extenuating circumstances in this particular case that I'd be willing to make an exception.

"Are you not paid at the time of hiring?" the man asked, looking at me curiously. OK, nevermind then.

"Well, yes, that's how I normally operate," I admitted.

"Good. My Mistress believes that this should suffice as compensation." He pulled something else out of the pocket of his robe and laid it on the table, and I felt like I ought to make like a cartoon character, with my eyes popping out of my head and a big AOOOGA horn sound effect for good measure!

Sitting before me was the largest sapphire I had ever seen. It was uncut, a slightly dull blue in appearance, a lumpy, amorphous blue rock, but I'd seen enough gems to know what it was I was looking at. Now, in case you're not familiar with jewels, and think that "a big gemstone" is like something out of a cartoon, large enough to sit on like a stool, allow me to disabuse you of the notion. This rough sapphire was about half the size of a chicken's egg, and that's freaking enormous as gems go! I'm no jeweler, but my first quick estimate of its worth was somewhere in the 8000-10000 Delin range. Maybe even more than that. (Not to mention its potential applications as a battery for magical energy!)

I didn't even have to ask if Ryell thought she could trust me with a treasure like that before completing the job, nor was I about to mention how this was more than an order of magnitude more valuable than my usual going rate-not to mention probably more valuable than the hypothetical price I could get from selling the scale itself! If the dragoness had a slightly different sense of priorities, that was fine by me! I forced myself to stay calm. "Yes, that would... suffice," I said, trying not to look too overwhelmed. "I'll get the scale back."

The man nodded silently, and I got up and left. There really wasn't much more to say, now was there?

Once I got out into the cool night air, I had to blink a few times and shake my head. Something was wrong with me in there. It had been subtle enough that I hadn't noticed it until I got out of it, but there had been something clouding my mind in some way. I didn't ask nearly enough questions, and I'd walked out of the meeting carrying dragon treasure as a token of promised service, even after being told straight-up that the dragon was able to attune her will to familiar objects, and use her magic to influence them remotely, without there being any enchantments on them for me to Twist off. And obviously (well, obvious to me now, at least,) that wouldn't just apply to the cloth! Why hadn't I thought of that before taking the gem? And why hadn't I thought about how I almost certainly wouldn't be able to sell it anyway? Any attempt to sell a stone that large to a jeweler--or to attempt to have one cut it--would attract all sorts of attention that I couldn't afford. Ditto trying to get it charged with magical energy. A battery-stone like that could have enormous potential for me, but not if I couldn't actually get the energy into it. (Not to mention that it would be incredibly foolhardy to put something like that, that a powerful dragon was attuned to, in the room where I kept the rest of my charged stones!)

So the sapphire was worthless to me. I'd been roped in to performing a valuable service, essentially for free. And for a dragon, to boot. She'd somehow clouded my mind into not realizing any of this until it was too late. I'd known for a long time that the Twist didn't make me invulnerable, but even when it failed there was always some sort of warning first. But I hadn't felt a freaking thing in there!

Well, crap. About the only reason they didn't have the phrase "never deal with a dragon, for you are crunchy and taste good with ketchup" here is that ketchup hasn't been invented. I'd gotten myself into a huge mess here. Now what was I going to do?

The only thing I could do, I decided after thinking about it a little. I'd spend the next couple days doing some research, and then complete the job, if only to make sure things wouldn't get any worse.

In hindsight, I really should have known by now not to ever, ever be so foolish as to invoke "things can't get any worse."

7: Unbalanced Scale

Chapter 7

Unbalanced Scale

Needless to say, I spent the next day finding out everything I could about Fiona Khal. I'd heard of her, of course. She wasn't just a mage; she was Court Magus to the Duchess of Keliar, one of the most prestigious positions in the kingdom, and she held the rank of Archmagus for the region, which meant that the magical researchers at Stark Academy reported to her. But some research uncovered some new, more interesting details.

She lived on the Duchess's estate, just a few miles out of town. That was a bit unusual; most powerful Magi had a Wizard's Tower somewhere, but if Ms. Khal had one, no one knew about it. She was somewhere in the neighborhood of 40 years old, and by all accounts a master of the magical arts. Had a reputation for walking out of her chamber at the estate when she had never actually gone in, which suggested there was something really creepy about her, to the rumormongers. (To me, it suggested that there was a teleportation apparatus somewhere inside the suite. Maybe it led to the tower that no one knew about?) And according to gossip at least, she was... well, the word "cougar" isn't part of the local vernacular, but she was rumored to have a quite scandalous attraction to men half her age. Reputedly not much to look at but, like always, that tends to become less important the more powerful you are.

I filed that one away as Plan C. Not really my style, but it was a possibility that might come in handy, to get me into her room at the least. But I'd rather not if I can afford it. I tend to prefer women a bit closer to my own age--which can be a bit confusing since I haven't aged in the last ten years--and, well, there's no delicate way to say this, but a fair bit prettier than Ms. Khal was reported to be. Plus, I'd really prefer not to have the disappearance of the scale linked in the victim's mind with a memorable encounter with the person stealing it. Paul Twister's reputation is built on mystery and misdirection as much as anything else!

But with any luck it wouldn't come to that. By late morning the second day, I was simultaneously putting Plans A and B into action. Disguised as a common page, I made my way to the Duchess's estate. When the guards at the gate stopped me, I held up a piece of parchment, folded over a few times and sealed in wax. "An urgent message for Archmagus Khal," I said, panting for breath as if I'd run the whole way from Keliar. "It's most important that I receive her response posthaste."

The message, of course, was written by me, in English, and meant nothing of any significance. It contained a pair of lines from an old book, one of my favorites growing up: "Beside the forge of Reorx is a tree of surpassing beauty, the likes of which no living being has ever seen. Beneath that tree sits a grumbling old dwarf, relaxing after many labors." It would look like a bizarre cipher to anyone from this world, and if by some strange means she had the magical ability to translate it, it would still mean nothing to her.

One of the guardsmen called for another guard to take the letter. That spoke of a certain degree of professionalism; it would not be a simple task to lure the men away from their post with a Bavarian Fire Drill. That was good to know. Not good, but good that I knew it, at least. I waited for several minutes before the guard came back. "My apologies," he said. "M'lady Khal is not in."

That was also good to know. Meant I'd be going with Plan A instead of Plan B. I stiffened my posture and looked at him nervously. "I was told she'd be here," I mumbled, glancing back and forth nervously. "This message is most urgent!" I chewed on my lower lip, then glanced up at the guard. "I... don't suppose you'd know where I could find her?"

The guard shook his head. "I believe she was going into town today, to the market. If you came from Keliar, you made the trip for nothing." He gave a soft, rueful chuckle.

I harrumphed and turned away. "Well, my thanks then, good sirs. I will have to seek her out there."

Preventing the sale was out of the question. I just didn't have the resources to interfere with a transaction like that, especially on such short notice. And waylaying her on the way back from the city was simply unthinkable. I'm a thief, not a highwayman. The Twist doesn't make me invincible against magic, particularly not the sort of knowledge and skill an Archmagus has at their disposal, and she'd most likely have at least one armed and well-trained guard with her as well. Picking her pocket might be more successful, if it weren't such a large and heavy item that would be practically impossible to lift without being noticed. So the only thing that would work, at this point, would be to let her bring it back, and then swipe it from her room while she was away.

I turned and ran back to the city as fast as I could... at least until I was into a lightly wooded area and out of sight of the manor. I leaned against a tree for a bit to catch my breath, then slowly made my way into the woods, circling around. Here in the middle of a kingdom that had been at peace for quite a while, they hadn't really bothered keeping the trees cut back away from the manor, so I could get in reasonably close without anyone seeing me. Close enough that, with the aid of the little brass spyglass in my pack, I could watch the comings and goings at the manor.

I hung out there for a few hours, munching on some dried meat when I got hungry. I mostly had a lot of time alone with my thoughts, and the more I thought, the less I liked any of this. If the dragoness was familiar enough with the boring piece of cloth I was carrying in my pocket to attune her will to it, wouldn't she be just as familiar with something that had been a part of her own body? This whole job stunk to high heaven, and it was becoming more and more clear that I was being set up for something. But unless I wanted to end up confronting the wrath of a dragon who I'd already seen had some abilities to influence me that the Twist did nothing about, I was kind of stuck on the current course. Figures.

It was late afternoon before I spotted a couple people approaching the manor. The sun was behind me by this point, so there was no danger of giving myself away when I held up the spyglass to get a closer look. One was an older woman in robes, who matched the descriptions I'd heard of Ms. Khal, and the other was a man, a bit on the short side, wearing leather armor with a sword at his hip. She'd be returning from the market now, then. Excellent. Now I just had to wait until the next time she left. The "conduit" had said that she would keep the scale close until she was ready to use it. I hoped that meant "in her room" and not "on her person." Otherwise, things would get complicated.

I was fortunate, at least on this one point. It was less than half an hour before she and her guard left again. She must be a very busy woman! I waited around for a couple hours, to make sure she was a good distance away. The sun was on its way down, and I left my pack there among the trees, just taking the bare essentials along with me... plus the sapphire. Even knowing that I couldn't actually use it for anything, I had spent enough time scrounging for the next job and putting my life on the line that some irrational part of me refused to let such an immense source of wealth out of my hands.

I wore a dark cloak covered in patches and stains of various colors, the next best thing to actual camouflage. It would break up my outline in the dim light, making it harder for anyone looking my way to register a person-shape moving towards them. There was a wall around the grounds, but it was rough stone and not too high, easy enough to climb. An unlocked window at the end of a hallway let me slip inside, discarding the cloak beneath some nearby bushes. I intended to come back for it, but even if I couldn't, it wouldn't be too hard to get another one.

From my research, I had a vague idea of where in the manor I would find Fiona Khal's suite. That's not the same as actually knowing where it is, though, so I skulked around through the manor house, doing my best to keep out of sight. The darkness outside helped, but it also worried me, as there was a good chance that Fiona Khal would be returning to her rooms for the night. Had I waited too long to move in?

I found the Archmage's rooms after a few minutes, about where I'd thought they should be. There were several runes adorning the doorframe, shimmering slightly with their own light, and I didn't doubt that other, less visible wardings existed as well.

Well, that's what they hire me for, now isn't it?

I made my way down the hallway towards the door, then stepped up and placed my hand on the handle, hoping that the Twist wouldn't choose this of all moments to randomly backfire and cause some chaotic effect. The runes set around the door glowed, and I felt the magic Twisting under my hand, and then the light faded. I turned the handle and slipped inside the Archmagus's chambers and started to look around.

After all the worry and stress I'd expended getting in here, the actual theft was pathetically simple. She had a display case filled with arcane-looking artifacts on the far wall, and one of the things inside was a golden object that matched the conduit-man's description. The case's lock yielded to my pick just as easily as its wards yielded to the touch of my fingers, and I slid the expensive glass door open, then pulled out the rag and wrapped it around the golden dragon scale, and a few brief moments later, it vanished with a quiet pop.

I quickly closed and re-locked the display case. In and out in under two minutes, like I was never there. This was going to be too easy!

I really shouldn't have even thought that. It's just tempting fate. Just as I was slipping out the door to Ms. Khal's room, I heard the worst possible thing a thief can hear at a time like that. "Who goes there?"

Crap! It was a guard! I turned, thinking furiously, trying to improvise something. He was a well-built guy in his 30s, with a sword hilt sticking up over his shoulder. I needed a convincing lie, and fast! The only thing that came to mind was, plan D: pretend I went with plan C. I slouched a little as I turned to face the man, trying to look as nervous as I felt and pitching my voice up about half an octave. "Beg your pardon, sir," I said. "Am I in the wrong place? This is where Mistress Khal's rooms are to be found?"

He sighed and stepped forward, a look of exasperation on his face. "No, you're in the right place." he muttered.

I shook my head and smiled confidently. "She told me to await her inside. Said that the door was wa... erm... guarded? Guarded by her magic? I forget the word. But she drew something on the back of my hand and said it would allow me to pass, and it did. I've been here for some time, and..." I lowered my voice, looking back and forth as if embarrassed, "I need to find the privy. Could you direct me?"

He muttered something that sounded none-too-complimentary, though towards me or towards her I couldn't quite tell. "Begging your pardon, sir?"

The guard shook his head. "If she's not here, I'll have to insist that you leave."

Oh, please, sir, don't throw me into that thar briar patch! I put on my most crestfallen expression. "But Mistress Khal invited me," I protested. Then, lowering my voice, I leaned in. "And you know what they say about magic and the Nighttime Arts..." I murmured conspiratorially, adding a decidedly lascivious edge to my tone.

This, of course, only made him even more uncomfortable. "Regardless," the guard said, "without her to vouch for you, you will need to leave."

I slouched my shoulders and hung my head. "Very well," I harrumphed bitterly. "I do hope Mistress Khal is not too disappointed at not finding me when she returns."

The guard just grunted something noncommittal and gave me an ungentle shove by my shoulder in the direction of the front gates. I stumbled a little, then made my way towards the exit, with him following. Right as I neared the door, he seemed to think of something which he really should have noticed from the first: he'd found me coming out of the Archmagus's rooms. "Wait," he said. "I need to ensure you aren't carrying anything of Lady Khal's."

Busted! I didn't actually have the scale on me, but if he searched me he'd find the sapphire, my lockpicks, and a dagger hidden in my boot, any of which would mark me as an incredibly suspicious character. I tensed and turned to face him, thinking fast, trying to figure out a way to talk my way out of this. Nothing came to mind.

"A word, Captain Henry?" A woman's voice came from down the hall, strangely familiar. I looked up, and there, standing in front of a window, gloriously backlit by the setting sun, was Aylwyn, the angelic warrior I had kind-of-sort-of-maybe rescued from Robert de Long's dungeon. She looked every bit as beautiful as the last time I had seen her! But what in the world was she doing here?

The guard turned, and in the instant before he was turned around enough to look at her, her eyes met mine, she scowled slightly, and something passed between us. I'm not sure exactly what it was supposed to be, but I understood three things. She recognized me, she knew she was distracting this guard captain long enough for me to get free... and she was not happy about any of it.

"Yes, m'lady?" he asked. She looked to him quickly, the annoyed expression vanishing from her face so easily, you'd have never known it was there. He was a couple paces away, and I stepped back very softly, then turned and opened the door as quietly as I could and slipped through. From there, it was a quick walk to the gates, and the guards didn't have any trouble with letting me out. Whatever Aylwyn was talking about with Captain Henry, it must be more important than making sure I hadn't stolen anything from the manor!

I was shaking as the stress bled out of me once I passed the gate and began to make my way up the road. Once I reached the tree line, I slipped away into the woods to reclaim my gear. I heard footsteps on the road, and turned to see Fiona Khal and her bodyguard making their way back. Eep! Not good! I quickly made my way through the trees, reclaiming my pack and then slipping into the forest. I almost certainly had only a few short minutes before the missing scale was discovered, and I wasn't anywhere near far enough away for comfort!

There would be guards after me. Maybe even Celestials, if Aylwyn wasn't the only one at the manor. I didn't even want to think what would happen to her, for "accidentally" distracting the guard long enough for me to get away!

As I fled into the darkness of the woods, I couldn't help but wonder what had just happened, and how. Things like that just didn't happen to me, suddenly being bailed out by an unexpected ally, just seconds after being caught flat-footed. And she was a Celestial, to boot. Seriously, all that was missing was the machina! I had the distinct impression that she knew exactly what she was doing, but how could she? She certainly didn't get that information from Ryell; dragons and Celestials were said to be bitter rivals since ancient times. But how else could she have come by that knowledge?

What in the world was going on? I wondered as I made my way into the night as fast as I could. What had the dragoness gotten me involved in?

8: Twisted Plots

Chapter 8
Twisted Plots

How did I ever get mixed up in all this? I asked myself as I fled into the forest. I was just your average geek in high school--well, as average as a geek can be, I suppose. You know what I mean. Then I graduated, got into college, and was on my way to a degree in Computer Science--fat lot of good that did me here!--with a minor in theatre. (That one's actually come in handy quite a bit. I've lost track of how many times my theatrical training, particularly in improv, has gotten me out of a tight spot or even saved my life.) Magic, wizards and kingdoms and dragons and nymphs and whatnot were nothing but books I liked to read.

And then one day, I was just driving to the store, about two miles away, and suddenly I wasn't anymore; I was in the middle of a forest. And I wasn't even going 88 miles per hour! (Luckily, I was doing about 25 or so. Much faster and I'd have smacked into a tree before I could bring it to a stop!) I had no clue what had happened. Neither the GPS nor the radio could pick up anything, and my phone had no reception.

One thing I could tell for sure, once I got out of the forest, was that I was nowhere near Seattle anymore, past or present. You know those really steep hills sloping down to the waterfront that San Francisco is famous for? Seattle has them too. But wherever I was, it was clearly inland, not coastal. I burned a fair amount of my already-limited supply of gasoline heading towards the setting sun, trying to find the waterfront as a way to orient myself. I'm just glad I noticed I was approaching a peasant village before any of the peasants noticed me! I had to ditch the car somewhere no one would find it, and make my way into town on foot. By that point I really needed some food!

A real peasant village, like something you'd see in a movie, but not a camera crew in sight. That's when I really knew I was not in Kansas anymore, so to speak. I introduced myself by the first name that came to mind: Marty McFly. No one knew what to make of my strange clothes; they couldn't decide if I was a young noble who'd gotten lost, or a traveling performer of some kind. Whoever Marty McFly was, he was clearly down on his luck, wandering the roads with no supplies. So I decided to play that role, a minstrel who'd been through some rough times. An older couple had compassion on me, and took me in for a while, sharing their meager home and food in exchange for some rather arduous physical labor as a farmhand, and the occasional song to keep them in good cheer.

That arrangement lasted the better part of my first year here, and over time I got to be in a lot better shape than I'd started out. I didn't learn too much; though. When something's common knowledge, like local geography and political identity, you can't afford to ask questions about it without people starting to have questions of their own about you!

That all changed the next spring, when an actual traveling minstrel from the Bards' College came to town. Some well-intentioned townsfolk told him about me, and of course it didn't take him long to peg me as a fake. But then something bizarre happened. He tried to cast a spell on me that would compel me to speak the truth. I felt something, sort of like an electrical shock, but then I felt something within me take hold of the force acting upon me and rip it apart.

He felt it too, and something went very wrong with his magic. With no warning, his right hand went completely numb and limp, useless. A tragedy, of course, to anyone whose livelihood involved playing instruments! "What is this?" he yelled at me, even more surprised than I was. "You... twisted my magic!" I could see it in his eyes, he was afraid of me.

The problem with fear is that it can make people do stupid things. And when a fearful person is more powerful than you, they can do stupid things that put you in all sorts of danger. So I had to think very fast, especially with a knife plainly visible at his belt. But he didn't go for the knife; he held up his left hand and it started to glow. And that was all I needed. I didn't know if it was a fluke, what had happened to his spell, but he didn't either, and if I wanted to keep him from doing something stupid and dangerous by lashing out in his fear, I had to make him think I was more powerful than him, and fast.

What should I do? What would Paul Cameron, the best acting professor I'd studied under, do if he was in an improv scene like this? He'd follow the "yes-and" principle: agree with what the other person just suggested, and add something to it. And suddenly I had my new role.

"I wouldn't do that," I said, putting on a cocky grin and a laid-back slouch that let anyone watching know I was completely at ease, though there was no one else to witness my performance. My hosts were out in the fields at the moment. "I Twisted away your hand as a warning. The next attempt will cost you your voice."

He backed away a couple steps, instantly dropping the spell he was preparing with a look of abject horror on his face. "Who are you?"

I just grinned at him some more. "I'm Paul Twister." Time for some more quick thinking. Paul Twister broke magic. So why would he be here in some no-account farm village instead of out breaking magic? Obviously because he was in hiding and had gone to ground, and having someone find out would he was here not make him happy. "The real question is, what am I going to do, now that you've found me? I came out here to not be found. I really don't want to have to Twist away your voice so you can't tell anyone about me..."

For some reason, he seemed to calm down at this. He narrowed his eyes and looked at me very closely. "You were almost as surprised as I was when you twisted my magic. You hide it well, boy, but you're making this up as you go along, aren't you?"

Oh crap. I just tried to fight a guy on his own turf, didn't I?

"Why would you be in hiding, a scant three days' travel from the capital? Because you think it's the last place anyone would look. They'd expect you to run to the outer provinces. Or... no. You came from far away, didn't you? There's an odd accent to your voice that I can't quite place, and the villagers say you arrived wearing quite outlandish clothing. You fled, from far away, and you're hiding here because it's the first place you came to where people would take you in. Am I right?"

I just nodded silently, letting him make up my backstory as he went along. It saved me the work of having to do it myself!

"You didn't know about what you could do, did you? And then... you hurt someone? Broke something important?"

I nodded again. If he wanted to show me how smart he was, how well he could cold-read me, I could play along. Yes-and. If I broke magic without realizing it, I had a perfect backstory to draw upon. Something I saw in a movie once; I just had to adapt things a bit.

"I never meant to hurt nobody," I said, talking a little faster than normal, letting it all come tumbling out. "Marie was the prettiest girl in the village. Miller's daughter. And one day, she bats her eyes at me and beckons to me, leads me out behind Old Man Xavier's barn. Pulled me in for a kiss. She was pretty enough, I'da kissed her anyway, but I think she musta learned some trick and tried to ensorcell me into kissing her or something, because when she kissed me, alla sudden she starts trembling and shaking, and then she falls to the ground, like a dead woman." I closed my eyes, taking a few deep breaths. "And... her hair." I looked into the minstrel's eyes for a moment, then closed my eyes and took a deep breath. "She had the loveliest brown hair you ever saw, flowing all the way down her back. But after she kissed me, it grew this white streak down the middle, like a skunk! Just... out of nowhere, in an instant! I never meant to hurt anyone, but her father, he's wealthy 'nuff, powerful 'nuff, he'da had me killed for sure, or locked up so long it'd make no difference. So I ran. Don't even know if she's alive or dead."

I looked down at my feet. "I never meant to hurt nobody. I swear to you." Not my best performance, a bit on the cheesy side, but if you tell someone what they want to hear, they tend to believe you.

I certainly wasn't prepared for what came next, though. He started wiggling his fingers. "Whatever your magic did, boy, it feels like it's dying down. I've a feeling your pretty Marie is just fine." Then he chuckled wryly. "'Paul Twister' eh? You just come up with that on the spur of the moment, because I said you'd twisted my magic?"

I nodded a little. "Names's Paul Cameron, or used t'be. I'd prefer if you didn't spread that around. I still worry about Mr. Logan coming after me for hurting his daughter."

"I'll tell you what," he said, looking at me with an odd gleam in his eye. "You're a smart lad, and you think fast. Your talents are wasted here. You belong in the Bards' College. You're a natural-born performer. I'll sponsor your admission, if you can do a little favor for me."

I raised an eyebrow, cocking my head to the side. "What kind of favor?"

"If you can twist magic around and break it just by touching it..." he paused, as if thinking out loud. "A friend of mine, a fellow bard, recently had a very old, very valuable lute stolen from him. It's in the possession of a rather disreputable wizard, a few weeks' ride from here. I only know a few bits of magic, not nearly enough to stand a chance at getting the lute back, but you... you would be invincible. With 'Paul Twister' at my side, I'd have no trouble retrieving it!"

I scowled at him. "You want to turn me into some sort of rogue? To use my power to steal something?"

"To steal something back," he said. "To return a fellow bard's rightful property. Between that and my endorsement, no one would deny you entrance to the Bards' College. And certainly you'd rather be there than... here. You have gifts, boy. You were meant for greater things than to waste your life as a farmhand."

Yeah, I have a gift for bending computers to my will, and I was meant for a 21st century lifestyle. That's all I ever wanted. But as a bard back home once said, you can't always get what you want. But sometimes... did his offer constitute me getting what I needed? He was right; living here kinda sucked. And after 8 months of this, I was good and ready to go back to college. And if the price of admission was one adventure, questing against an evil wizard, so be it. I thought about it for a few minutes, then took him up on his offer.

To make a long story short, he was wrong about me. Dead wrong, in the grimmest and most literal sense possible. Turns out the Twist doesn't make me invincible, and more to the point, having me around didn't make him invincible. I got away with the lute, and with my life, just barely. He ended up with neither, poor guy.

I made my way to the Bards' College and turned the stolen lute in, and was rewarded with a small purse of silver for my trouble. I told the secretary a short version of what had happened, but somehow, after having traveled with a bard and then seen him die horribly, struck down by lightning out of a clear sky, I just didn't feel like trying to become one myself. Not right then, at least. (I eventually joined up, under the name of Peter Parker, but that's a different story.) So I just told the secretary that my name was Paul Twister, and I left.

I probably should have known better than to tell a tale like that to a representative of a group of professional, itinerant tale-tellers. People have been looking for me ever since, trying to get me to steal something from some wizard for them. Sometimes it's their rightful property. Other times it's not. More often than not these days, it isn't. The Circle of Magi is a relatively new thing, springing up in just the last six or seven years, but it's helped to civilize magic in the kingdom remarkably quickly. But most of the time, I can't afford to be too picky about details like that. I really had no desire to go back to living as a peasant, but getting ahead in the world costs money, and before you know it, you're running through the woods at random. You're laying false trails, climbing trees when they're close enough together to move between them, and wading in icy cold streams, all in the hopes of throwing the hounds you can hear baying a ways back off your scent. And all with an insanely huge gemstone hidden in your pocket and a dragon off somewhere playing with your life. You ever think your life sucks? It's got nothing on mine.

Eventually I made it out of the woods and to a road. I was exhausted and it was late, but I had to keep moving. I made my way to the King's Highway, and from there to the outskirts of Keliar, where I became just another anonymous face. I found an inn and got a room for what was left of the night, and fell asleep right away, glad I had shaken the pursuit. Safe at last.

Boy, was I wrong. I really gotta stop tempting Murphy like that...

9: Inn Convenience

Chapter 9

Inn Convenience

You know what's worse than waking up in the morning after only half a night's sleep? Waking up in the morning after only half a night's sleep and finding out you're in trouble.

The sun was just beginning to rise when I heard something wrong and instinctively came awake and alert. Well, mostly alert. Last night's flight had really taken a lot out of me. I stumbled out of bed and made my way to the window, looking outside. I could see at least three forms moving around. Big, burly men. Fighters of some sort. Guards, mercenaries, maybe even royal knights. Most likely to make sure no one could escape out the window. And that meant someone was about to come through the door.

I might only have moments to spare, and there was no good way to escape. That meant I'd have to talk my way out of it. I briefly thought of posing as Anthony Stark, who had been seen coming into Keliar just a few days before and could reasonably be believed to be here. But I rejected the idea; if there was any way they could positively identify me, my most important cover identity would be compromised, and that could affect the Academy as well as me! But the only other thing that came to mind was the old fallback: stop someone more powerful than you from doing something bad by making them think you're more powerful than them.

I heard voices outside. I figured I had a few seconds before some knight, maybe even the guard captain who'd escorted me out last night, was at the door. I grabbed my pack and dug around in it, quickly grabbing what I needed, then retreated to the corner of the room opposite the door. It was also far enough away from the window that it would leave me in shadow, at least until the sun came up over the course of the next half hour or so. Then I tensed, waiting for the inevitable moment when the door would burst open.

It didn't happen. Something worse happened instead: there was a click, and the lock turned, but I never heard the sound of a key being inserted from outside. And then the door swung open. A tall woman in a long, conservatively cut deep green robe took a step through. The light shone on her face, and I recognized Fiona Khal.

I raised my arm. "Stop right there. You know who I am, you know your magic can't hurt me. And you know you can't get across the room faster than I can loose this." Two huge bluffs, and I could only hope she'd swallow both of them.

She looked over and saw what I was holding in my hand: a wicked-looking light crossbow. I owned two crossbows, but this was not one of them. It was a stage prop, but in the dim light, it definitely looked threatening. Hopefully that would be enough.

The archmagus frowned. "Spare me the theatrics, Paul Twister. There is no tension on that string, and no mechanism connected to the hand crank. And you know as well as I that there are limits to all magic, even your vaunted Twist."

Figures.

OK, time for plan B: tell the truth. "I don't have what you're looking for. The scale has already been returned to the dragon it was stolen from, and to be perfectly frank with you, you should be glad to hear that. It kept her from coming looking for it herself, which I don't think anyone wants."

Khal scowled, which really didn't improve her already-plain face. She wasn't ugly, really, just... not good looking. The expression she was wearing at the moment, though, definitely tipped the balance into the negative side. "You think," she said slowly, in about the most condescending tone of all time, "that I purchased some... bauble, not knowing what it was. You think I could reach archmagus-level skill and knowledge in the arts and not recognize a cast-off piece of Ryell herself. Or perhaps you think that I simply did not think she would value it highly and want it back. And now, you think I have tracked you down to apprehend you and force you to give my pretty, shiny bauble back to me."

She narrowed her eyes. "In any and all such thoughts, you are quite mistaken."

Any and all such thoughts... so she's not here to capture me? Or was I misunderstanding her words? "So then why are you here?"

She flashed me a truly nasty smirk. "To hire you to perform a task, of course. Is that not why people seek out the legendary Twister? Now, will you lower your... ahem, 'weapon,' and allow me in like a proper gentleman?"

O-kay, I didn't see that one coming. "No one's ever accused me of being a proper gentleman, Lady Khal," I remarked. "But since you have me so thoroughly at your mercy... sure. Come in." I set the fake crossbow down and stepped forward, standing at the foot of the bed.

"My," she breathed as I stepped out of the shadowy corner, lowering her voice by perhaps half an octave. "They said you were surprisingly young, but they never said you were handsome!"

That's probably because I'm not. I'm about as good-looking of a guy as she is of a woman, which is to say just basically average. I scowled. "Yeah, that's another thing I've never been accused of. But really, base flattery? From you, in a situation like this? Did the guard even tell you of the circumstances of my visit?"

She laughed, a surprisingly mirthful sound that, for once, didn't sound at all cold or mean. "Indeed he did. That was quite clever of you, I must confess."

There was just something about her face. I looked at her more closely. She wasn't just plain, not simply average... she looked downright boring. Exceptionally unexceptional, if that makes any sense. The kind of face you'd barely have reason to notice. Wait, I'd seen that in a book somewhere. And it made the little hairs on the back of my neck stand up.

"If I may speak frankly, I have also never heard anyone say you were lovely of face." She looked a bit shocked by my brazenness in saying such a thing, but I continued before she could respond. "But they don't actually know, do they?"

She laughed again. I'd say her laugh was her best feature, if it hadn't been for what I was sure she was about to confirm. "No one said you could Twist my magic off from a distance," she replied, raising an eyebrow curiously.

"Why hide behind such an unassuming face? I've heard tales of such people. Assassins, with special magic to slip about practically unnoticed. But certainly that's not who you are..."

She shook her head, raising an eyebrow. "You certainly hear interesting tales! No, I'm afraid it is nothing so dramatic as that. I wear a plain face for a much simpler reason: I am a powerful woman." I cocked my head to the side somewhat, not quite understanding. She saw the reaction and continued. "And specifically, a powerful woman trained in the arts of magic. If you see a powerful woman, and you know she is a woman of great power, and she bears a beautiful face, do you not react to that? Judge her by that? You say to yourself, behold, this beautiful woman must truly be great and magnificent! And you are on your guard.

"Or, say she wears a face that is ugly, and repulsive to look upon. Then, again, you see her and you think, this woman looks like an old witch from the tales I was told as a child. Truly her magic is a thing to fear. I should be on my guard around her! But, if she comes before you wearing this face..." she gestured to herself.

I nodded, getting it now. "The part of you that thinks such things, that makes quick judgments like that, dismisses her. She doesn't look like much; she must not be a threat. Certainly such an ordinary woman could not be such a mighty archmagus as I have heard from the tales people tell of her. Tales grow in the telling, of course; surely what I have heard of her is exaggerated." Then a little light bulb went on in my head, and I grinned at her. "Certainly the great Paul Twister could not be a child, just barely on the cusp of manhood! Perhaps he has done something of note, but much of it must just be a tale someone told. He is of no real threat to me; I need not fear him."

This elicited another charming laugh, and I realized what it was I liked so much about her laughter: unlike her appearance, her laughter was completely genuine and unguarded. "You do understand!"

I did. And if I could get her to think that my youthful appearance was a deliberate trick, and not something I was stuck with, so much the better.

"I must ask," she continued, abruptly changing the subject. "The dead fish you dropped to throw off the hounds tracking you... that was nothing strange. Expected and easily dealt with. But what were the herbs? You scattered something shredded into bits too small to recognize, that drove the poor beasts to distraction like I have never seen!"

Yeah, they were shredded into tiny bits, so that a human handler would never actually notice them. That right there earned her a lot of respect, and wariness. I was dealing with a powerful, intelligent woman who didn't miss much. And if she had samples, I'm sure that with a bit of magic and research, she would be able to reverse-engineer what I had done, so there was no point lying or being evasive about it. So I just shrugged nonchalantly. "Catnip," I said. "Alchemically modified to have a stronger scent, and attract dogs instead of cats."

"Dog-nip!" She laughed and actually clapped her hands together from pure mirth. "That's ingenious! Truly, you make a worthy adversary!" She didn't have to say, an adversary that she had managed to catch anyway.

Something about this still felt wrong. The image of the self-described "powerful woman" who liked to get people to underestimate her just didn't square well with the gleeful magi-otaku currently geeking out over shop talk with me. The laughter may be genuine, as in unforced, but it still wasn't quite appropriate; this persona wasn't as fake as the cheesy, vampy seductress act she'd opened with, but it still didn't quite feel right. One way or another, she was out of character. "You missed your calling, Lady Khal," I said wryly. "You really should have joined the Bards' College." I wondered whether or not she'd take that as a compliment.

"Perhaps," she said, laughing again but not as strongly as before. "But would I have ever risen so high there as I have among the Magi?"

If I hadn't had her being out of character on my mind already, I might have missed it, but there was just something in the way she said that... "You did study with the Bards, didn't you? That's another thing no one talks about..."

She shrugged a little, not exactly conceding the point, but not denying it. "I would imagine," she replied, "no matter how hard I searched, I would not find the name 'Paul Twister' on the rolls of the Bards either."

The implication was clear, so I just nodded. "You wouldn't." And she looked at me with new wariness in her expression. I'd just all but admitted to having studied with them, just as she (maybe) had. People with the sort of understanding of motivation, behavior, and the human heart that you could learn there tended to be formidable allies, and dangerous adversaries, especially if they were in any position of power.

"A worthy adversary indeed," she grinned.

I just looked her straight in the eyes this time. "But you said you're not here as an adversary. You want to hire me for a job, you said. I certainly hope you don't want me to retrieve that dragon scale for you..."

She shook her head. "No, but it does touch on it. Tell me, how do you think I came to have a scale of a great golden dragon in my possession?"

I shrugged a little. "The person I spoke with simply said that the scale had been stolen by an adventurer, and that you would purchase it in the marketplace yesterday. Made it sound as if Ryell could foretell the future. Not sure how much I believe that, but I've seen stranger things..."

Another head-shake. "More likely, Ryell knew of the contract I had with the adventurers who retrieved the scale. If dragons could see into the future, mankind would never have achieved civilization, don't you agree?"

I shrugged again, trying to be nonchalant about it. "Like I said, I've seen stranger things. I figure I'll reserve judgment until I have more facts to work from."

She nodded. "Very well. Believe it or do not. But ask yourself, why would I seek the scale of a dragon, knowing--and I did know--that such an act would provoke her to anger?"

I didn't even need to think about it. "In the hopes of gaining something greater than you stood to lose." Basic human motivation; I didn't even need Bard training for that one.

"Or," she replied, "to avert something even worse. A man may swallow a bitter potion so that a disease does not ravage his body, for instance."

"That works too. So..." I didn't know too much about magic, but I'd picked up a thing or two here and there. "...a material link? For behavioral insurance, or as a means to strike at her first?"

She nodded again. "The former. The last thing I would wish is to provoke a conflict with a great dragon, particularly as I would not emerge victorious. But we believe that she has set her sights on our kingdom, and the lands roundabout. Up until now, she was content to let us puny humans play our little games of Let's Build Society on land she sees as her own, knowing that there was little we could do to resist her, that we were no threat to her. The relationship, such as it was, actually had some direct benefits to her as well. Domesticated sheep and cattle make very convenient meals, for example. But the rise of the Circle of Magi presents a true threat to her power. I believe that she is seeking to pull us down, to interfere with our work."

"So you were looking for a countermeasure?" I asked. "An arms race of sorts?"

She bit her lip. "Arms... race. An interesting expression. I think of it more as a chess match. She threatens our pieces, we move to threaten hers in response, and balance is maintained."

A little shiver went down my spine when she spoke those oh-so-casual words. "Yeah, right up until one side makes a mistake. Then lots of pieces start dying. on both sides. And now you want me to work for you, against her?" I asked, trying not to look too bemused. "It's a strange game, where Black and White both move the same pawn!"

She gave another one of those sweet, musical laughs. "I've always lamented the lack of mercenaries on the chessboard. It would bring whole new levels of strategy to the game!"

"If you say so. Chess was never my game, in truth."

"Oh? And what is 'your game,' Paul Twister?"

I gave her my most lopsided, roguish grin. "Baseball." She didn't know what that was, of course. I wasn't expecting her to. "It's a game of strategy and athletic skill, where one man, potentially with help from as many as three others, must face off against an entire team of nine opponents and emerge victorious. Maybe someday I'll teach you."

"That certainly does sound interesting," she remarked. "But not today. I have twelve guards with me, and you do not have three companions to assist you, nor even one."

Twelve? For little old me? If she'd really wanted to flatter me, she could have just told me that from the beginning! I suppose it made sense, though; twelve warriors and one wizard, come to recruit a single thief to act against a dragon? The concept had an honorable pedigree! "Not today," I agreed. "For now, it seems the order of the day is chess. And I am a gray pawn, neither black nor white, about to be moved yet again?" Keeping her on-topic was way too difficult!

She shook her head. "Not a pawn at all," she said. "A knight, who moves erratically, in a way fundamentally different from any other piece. I think that suits you, Gray Knight."

"Very well. What's your move?"

"Ah, but you speak like the Rook, always moving in such a direct, straight line." The corners of her mouth quirked upward in a teasing smile.

"Only when I feel I'm being led around in circles by a woman I never asked to dance with." There was a bit of an edge to my voice now, my impatience starting to show.

She sighed. "Very well. You remember the angel with the regrettable timing, whose unwitting intervention allowed you to slip away from the manor?"

Hoo boy. It took all my skill to not react to that one. She didn't know that Aylwyn had let me go, or that she knew me at all, I'd imagine. "I remember. What of her?"

"She is a Celestial Paladin, and a liason to the Circle of Magi. She helped come up with the plan for the scale, in fact."

Curiouser and curiouser! She helped come up with the plan that she also deliberately helped thwart? There was something truly odd going on here. There's no way she was working for the dragon... what then? Playing both sides off against each other somehow? "At the risk of repeating myself, what of her?"

"This latest setback to our plans requires a regrouping, of sorts. I have some important materials that must be retrieved, and then sent to Ken'tu Kel. I want you and the paladin, Aylwyn, to deliver them."

Ken'tu Kel. Things just got incredibly serious. Fiona Khal was an archmage, but Ken'tu Kel was the Archmage, the founder and leader of the Circle, which made him just about the last person I wanted to be anywhere close to. If there's anyone who would pose a real, existential threat to Paul Twister, it's a man like him. Also... "That's quite the trip, Lady Khal! I'll admit, I don't keep close tabs on the Magi, but he doesn't even live within the kingdom, if what I have heard is true."

She nodded. "His tower is some few miles outside of Declan."

My eyes widened at that. "The capital of Anduin? Even with good horses, that's easily a month's journey and more! And we would need horses; without me, the angel could fly, but I couldn't keep up." I thought about it for a moment. "Why do you want me along anyway? You don't think a Celestial Paladin can fend for herself on the roads?" Not that I would object in the slightest to taking an extended trip with the beautiful angel under different circumstances, but that was a long time to be away from my interests and obligations here, especially on short notice!

"Against ordinary brigands and highway rabble, certainly. Against agents of a dragon? There, I become less certain." She gave me a frank look. "I see it as only fair. You and she together managed to ruin our plan for defense against the dragon. Unwittingly, to be sure, but you have done it. And now you and her will work to set it right. She has already accepted the burden to be borne; she calls it an act of repentance."

"And you expect to make a penitent thief out of me, Lady Khal? I have other obligations that are not easily set aside at a moment's notice. Plus, I only work alone. The last time I worked with a partner, he ended up dead, killed right before me. He thought I could protect him, just as you are thinking now. Instead, he died and I barely escaped with my own life."

"...and a legend was born. I have heard the tale. That was years ago; you are stronger now, wiser, more experienced, and your partner this time will be much more capable. And you are at fault, and the obligation is on you to make it right."

I sighed. "I don't have any choice in the matter, do I?" I asked, shoulders slumping a little.

"Oh, there is always a choice. You could choose to turn down my offer. This would result in you being taken into custody by the guards, and made to stand trial for your various crimes over the years. But it is your choice to make." The matter-of-fact way she said that creeped me out.

"I see. I suppose I must choose to accept, then. There is the matter of expenses, of course."

She smiled. "People say that you charge the exorbitant fee of three hundred delin for a typical job. Realizing that this is not at all typical, I offer five hundred, of which two hundred delin worth shall be in precious stones. Plus half of any contingencies you may come across on the course of the assignment."

That meant loot. She was offering five hundred delin, plus loot? Plus an extended journey with a beautiful woman. Argh! Stop thinking like that! Stupid teenage body! Stupid raging hormones! Wait... what loot? "Contingencies, Lady Khal?" I had the sudden, horrible feeling that the other shoe was about to drop.

She nodded. "As I said, what I require must be retrieved."

"So you want me to steal something afterall." That's getting back into my comfort zone.

She shook her head. "It is only stealing when the owner is alive." Whoosh, thud. Goodbye comfort zone, hello other shoe. This was now officially getting very creepy very quickly. "I know the location of the lair of a dragon that died of disease. It was many years ago, and there is no risk of contagion to you or to Aylwyn, but the important part is, this dragon was not slain, not by man nor by another dragon. It is likely that the corruptible parts of the body have rotted away by now, but of course not all parts are corruptible. What Ken'tu Kel will need is the dragon's skull." Then she smiled at me, a grim little smile. "And whatever else of value can be retrieved from the lair, of course. Your half will be yours to do with as you please; Aylwyn's half will be shared with the Magi, as she is acting as an agent of the Circle. We would place great value on draconic bones and scales, but of course we also hold more traditional valuables in high regard."

An abandoned dragon's lair? Awesome! But it sounds too good to be true... "If this dragon has been dead for several years, why hasn't the lair already been looted?"

She smiled. "As I said, there is no risk of contagion to you nor to Aylwyn. The same is not true of other dragons; they keep away out of regard for their own lives. But more mortal adventurers would find it very difficult to claim the treasure, as the dragon's lair was in a cave high up the side of a mountain, with no passable trails leading up to it. It is almost entirely inaccessible, except from the air."

I nodded. "But if I had a Celestial with me, and she had some rope..."

"It would become much more possible."

"And once we reach the lair? The big guy's gone, but what other threats would be there to deal with?"

She shrugged dismissively. "Wards and traps, mostly of a magical nature. Nothing that an experienced thief of your skill level would not be able to deal with. Perhaps some wild beasts. It's highly doubtful you'd run into another dragon, due to the disease."

"Very well. And where is the lair located?"

"Along the way from here to Declan, actually. It will take you perhaps two days out of your way."

I thought back to some maps I had seen. "The Ele mountains, then?"

She nodded. "Aylwyn knows where to find it."

I sighed. "Your protestations notwithstanding, it seems I have no choice. When can I expect to receive the payment, and where will I meet your paladin to begin the journey?"

Fiona reached into a pocket of her robe and pulled out a handful of shiny gold coins, handing them to me. Five three-delin marks. "This is to cover supplies; it should be more than adequate. The balance will be paid to you by Ken'tu Kel or an agent of his, upon delivery of the dragon skull to his tower."

I narrowed my eyes at her. "You know that's not how I work." She certainly had done enough research on me to know I always took payment up-front.

"I also know that, as you say, you have no choice. Giving you five hundred delin before any work has been done would give you a choice, and a most unfortunate one at that. Best to avoid such strong temptations, wouldn't you agree?"

I wouldn't, of course, but telling her that wouldn't do any good. "I want your terms under etheric contract, then."

She smiled, recognizing that I was finally going along willingly-for sufficiently low values of "willing," at least. "Done." She retrieved something from another pocket. It looked like a jewelry box, a large one. When she opened it, I saw there was a mirror inside. She set the opened box on a small table in the middle of the room, with the mirror angled upwards, then addressed it. "Mirror, mirror, on this table, Ken'tu Kel, if he is able."

As always when someone invoked a magic mirror, I had to stop myself from snickering. I don't know if the invocations formed silly rhyming couplets in the original language, but the versions I heard always sounded that way.

The reflective surface turned cloudy for several long moments, then resolved into a reflection of a man, looking to be in his late 30s or so. He wore blue wizards' robes, and was a bit on the short side. He was bald, with no beard, but a rather impressive black mustache adorned his upper lip. "Fiona," he greeted her. "What news?" He had a deep, rich voice. Not too low, but smooth and very manly-sounding, in a rather abrupt contrast with his physical appearance. The sort of voice you'd expect to come from the mouth of Prince Charming.

"I have met with Paul Twister, and he has agreed to the terms we discussed, on the condition that the deal be sealed by an etheric contract."

"Very well," the archmagus said. "Step forward, that I may see you." The mirror was at an angle where I could see him probably better than he could see me.

I moved to stand beside Fiona Khal, and looked his reflection in the eyes. "Here I am."

He smiled. "I do pledge payment in the amount of five hundred delin, of which two hundred is to be in the form of precious stones, to Paul Twister as payment for services rendered, namely the retrieval, and delivery to my tower, of the skull of a dead dragon from its abandoned lair in the Ele mountains." He paused a moment, then added, "Less any advance he may be paid by Fiona Khal."

I nodded. "I do pledge the retrieval and delivery of the dragon skull to the tower of Ken'tu Kel in return for the aforementioned payment, on the condition that the information I have been and will be given regarding the skull is sufficiently accurate to enable it to be retrieved." It's always important to leave yourself some wiggle room like that in an etheric contract; otherwise, you could end up magically bound to do something that's not possible.

Fiona nodded slowly. "I do so witness." She brushed her fingers over the mirror, and the reflection of Ken'tu Kel dissolved, returning to a natural reflection of her and me. "Very well. Are you satisfied now?"

"I suppose I'm about as satisfied as I'll get. So when and where is this journey to begin?"

Fiona smiled at me as she began to pack her mirror up again. "Purchase your supplies and make your preparations. Aylwyn will be here tomorrow at first light." She flashed me a playful grin, and actually licked her lips subtly. "It was a pleasure doing business with you, Paul Twister. You are a worthy adversary indeed, or if not, then perhaps a worthy ally."

I rolled my eyes. "Again with the flattery. You'll forgive me if I don't find it particularly flattering."

She just laughed. "A shame. But I suppose I am not exactly... to your tastes?" Then she flashed me a positively wicked grin. "No doubt you would prefer the company of someone taller, lovelier and younger of face, with soft wings to cradle you in an extra-tender embrace?" I could feel heat in my cheeks at the suggestion, especially because it hit way too close to home. She saw, and smiled knowingly. "Were I in your place, I would be most wary of any decision to act on such a preference."

I just shrugged, trying to play it cool. "Of course," I said, as nonchalantly as I could.

She turned to leave, then paused in the doorway, looking over her shoulder at me. "One last piece of advice. Certainly Ryell is not finished with you. I would be most wary of her as well. I have heard that ridiculous song the bards sing of you, Paul Twister. Many of the things they tell never happened, not to you nor anyone else, but the part at the end, where our roguish hero is finally outwitted by a dragon? There is more truth to that than you know. Be on your guard." And then she left, before I could say anything else.

Wow. When she showed up, I thought I'd just gone out of the frying pan and into the fire. Now I was out of the fire and... I don't even know what I was into now, but this was going to seriously suck.

But at least I was signed up for an extended adventure with a beautiful woman who'd kissed me the first time she met me. Fiona's warning notwithstanding, it couldn't be all that bad, now could it?

And besides, I had business to take care of in Anduin as well. These were definitely not the circumstances I'd imagined I'd end up meeting April O'Neil under, but as long as I was going to be in the neighborhood, I may as well pay her a visit...

10: King's Highway

Chapter 10
King's Highway

So, let's see. Ryell manipulated me into thinking that stealing back the missing dragon scale would be the best way to preserve peace in the kingdom, and by "preserve peace" she basically meant "that's a nice kingdom you have there; it would be a shame if something were to happen to it." Then Fiona tells me that she obtained the scale to ensure that nothing would happen to it, and now I went and got myself manipulated into screwing that up, so now she gets to manipulate me into fixing the situation, with some help from Aylwyn. Apparently she doesn't know that Aylwyn and I have already met, nor that she had a hand in helping me escape once the scale had been returned. Three distinct players, all hiding things from each other. (And from me, of course.) And now I had a special delivery to make to Ken'tu Kel, who's pretty much the most powerful mage around. I kinda wondered if he had his own agenda as well.

He did, of course, but I didn't find out about that until later. (Not to mention what Ryell really turned out to be up to!) For the moment, though, all I had to worry about were three distinct agendas, all trying to manipulate me. And I was pretty sure I had gotten neither "the whole truth" nor "nothing but the truth" from any of them. Except possibly Aylwyn, simply because she hadn't actually had the opportunity to say anything deceptive to me yet.

Oh well. We were about to have plenty of time to talk. At least a month in close quarters, and that's if everything went well. So I wondered how long the pristine state of not-being-decieved-by-her would last. I already knew she wasn't a perfect little angel (so to speak) who was incapable of deception, because of what she'd done at the manor.

But for the moment, I had to put all that out of my head and prepare for a journey. I spent the bulk of the day buying provisions, making arrangement for even more money to be sent out to cover expenses if this ended up taking longer than expected, and most important of all, seeing to my horses.

The world I'd found myself in was a lot like something you'd read in a fantasy story in many respects, but one thing that authors tend to get wrong a lot is horses. They treat them basically like a car, except it eats oats instead of gasoline, and occasionally poops at comedically-appropriate moments, or startles or throws its rider at dramatically appropriate moments. But even so, it's essentially a living car.

There are a couple problems with the horse-as-living-car theory. First, the "car" part. Even if it was a car, it would by definition only have a one horsepower engine. Sure, it's not hauling around nearly as much chassis weight--the average adult horse weighs about one-half to one-third what a car does--but even so, it's not nearly as strong as an automobile. And second, the "living" part. A horse is a mammal, like you and me. It isn't powered by a one horsepower engine; it's powered by muscles, lungs and a heart, like you and me. And that means that, just like you and me, it gets worn out pretty easily by physical exertion, such as continuous walking and running, and having to carry a heavy load wears it out even faster. Sure, those muscles, lungs and hearts are a lot bigger and tougher than a human's, which gives them better strength and endurance, but they still get plenty worn out after a hard day's work.

Anyway, the upshot is that it's nothing for a car to do 60 miles per hour, and keep it up all day for several days in a row, from one end of the continent to the other, as long as you keep it fueled. A horse, on the other hand, has to be specially bred and trained for strength, speed and endurance to get you 60 miles in one day, and even then you're not gonna get much use out of it the next day if you do. A sustainable pace over a long journey is closer to 30 miles per day. I had two, so I could ride one and let the other rest, (sort of; it still had to keep up with the one I was riding,) and that, plus the good roads that I'd been try to get set up from my work at Stark Academy, could stretch my sustainable pace to about 40 miles per day... at the price of twice the food. A horse can get most of its food by grazing, but it still needs a fair amount of grain, maybe four or five pounds, every day in order to stay healthy. In other words, enough food to feed two horses for a month's journey would weigh twice what I do, which means the one I'm not riding really doesn't get much relief, at least not at the start of the journey. So instead of packing all the provisions, I'd need to get a small amount of them instead, and resupply at towns along the way. (Which is sort of like stopping for gas, I guess, but slower and heavier.)

So it's not hard to see why cars ended up winning out over horses back home. I know I'd rather have one!  (Yeah, technically I did have one.  But without any gas stations, it may as well not exist.  And it wasn't in Keliar anyway.)

I couldn't help but wonder how we were supposed to transport this dragon skull and whatever other loot we picked up. A dragon skull could easily be about as big as my whole body, if not larger. And a considerable amount of a skull's volume is open space, but other bones and scales don't have that problem, to say nothing of the other contents of a dragon's hoard. So we would need a cart eventually. Maybe more than one, plus additional horses. But for now, just my two horses would be fine.

I consulted a few cartographers, and there didn't seem to be any stretches of more than 50 miles or so between towns along the route from Keliar to Declan, so I decided to keep a stock of 20 pounds of grain on hand, which was good for two days for two horses, giving me a bit of a margin of error to work with. I had no idea what preparations Aylwyn would make, (did angels even ride horses?) but since she was being presented as the one who knew what was going on, I figured she could handle her end of things. I was just a guy being dragged along for the ride in case we ran across any magic that needed breaking.

So I got provisions for myself and my horses, made a few arrangements, and ran across one very welcome piece of news amid all the work. A few days earlier, I'd sent an inquiry to the circle of Magi, regarding the identity of the archmagus who would have jurisdiction in Brighton. I'd had my back turned when I delivered my message regarding Robert de Long's unsavory activities and subsequent death, but now I was starting to wonder who it was I had talked to. I found a message waiting for Mr. Stark at a Royal Post station, informing me that it was a wizard by the name of Gerald Wolf, and providing some brief directions on how to reach his tower, should I wish to.

That put a grin on my face. Gerald was probably the only wizard who I could call a friend without hesitation, equivocation or qualification. Back before the Circle, when I was still new to being Paul Twister, he'd found some good uses to put my talent to, helping a fair number of people in various ways, and he'd been the one who created my counter-Twist ring. It was good to hear that he'd risen to prominence among the Magi; if anyone deserved it, he did. I made up my mind to try to visit him sometime soon; his tower should only be a day or two out of our way, assuming we kept to a reasonably direct route, and it had been several years since I'd seen him. Plus I was sure he'd have some questions about my rather brief message to him the day de Long died, and having Aylwyn along to provide her perspective on what had happened certainly wouldn't hurt.

So that was my day. Getting ready for a long trip, taking care of several details which took pretty much the whole day, then lying awake for several hours trying to get some rest. The night passed way too quickly once I finally got to sleep, and suddenly there was a firm knock on the door to my inn room, jolting me awake. I checked the window, and the sky was still plenty dark, with just the faintest hints of twilight beginning to mark the oncoming day. Ugh. When Fiona said Aylwyn would be here "at first light," I wasn't expecting it to be literal!

"Give me a moment," I groaned out in a voice that was hopefully loud enough to be heard through the door. I rolled out of bed, quickly got dressed, then walked over and opened the door.

I'm not going to bother with any silly cliches about how the mere sight of the tall, winged Celestial standing outside my room took my breath away or anything like that. Instead, I'll simply say that she was the most beautiful woman I have ever seen, and still is, and there she was just a few feet away. She was tall, a few inches taller than me, and I stand at a pretty respectable six feet. (As I understand it, that actually makes her rather petite for a Celestial, but among humans, she was a freaking Amazon.) She had long, silver hair, not like gray hair that old people have, but shimmering silver-white, as if someone had taken moonbeams and starlight and woven them into strands of hair, and they literally shimmered, in her own light.

She'd lit up pretty brightly the last time I met her, but right now she seemed to have the juice turned way down on that particular effect. She was glowing like a night-light, just barely enough that I could clearly see her despite the darkness of the early morning. And her face was just... perfect. I've seen a few girls whose features, carefully cared for and made-up, were sultry and seductive and better at inspiring desire, but for pure, sweet, achingly perfect beauty, nothing beats an angel. (Or at least this angel. She's the only one I've ever met, so... not much of a basis for comparison.) And just barely peeking out from behind her back were two large, very soft-looking wings, covered from base to tip with long feathers that were mostly white with just a hint of creamy light yellow. All she was wearing was a long, white robe that made her look more like a mage than a paladin, and there were no weapons visible on her person anywhere, but I'd seen her conjure up a flaming sword just by holding out her hand before, and so I wouldn't be surprised if she could produce armor on demand as well.

The sight of her had the expected and predictable effects on both my 19-year-old body and my 29-year-old mind, and even though we were in a situation in which we were being forced to work together, which essentially cast her in at least somewhat of an adversarial role, I couldn't think of anything snarky or witty to say. I just stood there, in silence, staring like an idiot for a few seconds.

"Are you ready?" she asked, before things could get too awkward.

And suddenly things clicked in my head. Now that I had a starting point, it was like being handed a script. I could converse again. "Another hour's sleep would be nice," I groaned, injecting a little bit more whiny weariness into my tone than was strictly honest. But only a little; I really was tired!

Another hour's sleep, the baser part of my brain interjected, would certainly be welcome if I had something soft and warm to snuggle up to. Rawr!

Grr. Stupid teenage body! Stupid raging hormones! I told the baser part of my brain to shut up and leave me alone. It didn't listen, of course.

"We have a long journey ahead of us," she said, with a hint of an apologetic smile. "It's best to be off quickly. If you needed more rest, you should have retired earlier."

Figures. Hottest girl around, and she's already picking on me and making me not like her. Just like freaking high school all over again. I sighed, my shoulders slumping. "All right, let's go."

We headed out of the inn, and over to the stables just outside, where I retrieved my horses. Aylwyn didn't have any horses to retrieve. "You plan to walk to Declan with me?" I asked as I led the horses out and got them ready to go. "Or are you gonna fly? Because I'm riding."

She shook her head, a touch of amusement in her eyes. "I plan to walk as far as the King's Highway." And that was all she had to say on the subject. She was not a woman of many words, apparently.

When the horses were ready, I took the reins and walked beside Aylwyn. Neither of us had much to say. The inn was near the edge of the city, and the highway was less than half a mile away, so it wasn't too bad. And once we reached the cement-paved road, the angel smiled and held up her hands, high over her head. "Close your eyes," she said, and that as all the warning I got. About a second later, there was a bright flash of light. I'm sure glad I had my eyes closed, or I'd have been blinded from it! When I opened them again... she had a horse.

OK, remember all that stuff I said about horses being frail mortal creatures just like you and me? Most of the time, it would be right. But I could immediately tell that the enormous beast at her side was anything but frail or mortal, at least not in quite the same way as my horses were. It was a huge mare, the color of her owner's wings, a soft, creamy white from head to tail. She stood a good three hands taller than any horse I'd seen since coming here. (What's up with horses being measured in "hands" anyway, and not in feet like people are, when we have hands and they don't?) Her skin was tight over powerful muscles, and like Aylwyn, her horse shone faintly with its own light.

Figures. She had a celestial horse, one that could probably hold its own against a car. Once I realized what I was looking at, I was a bit surprised to notice that there were not a big pair of Pegasus wings on its back. I just sighed as we both mounted up. "Try and rein her in, so I can keep pace without wearing mine out?" I asked.

She nodded. "Wyntaf will behave herself. She's very gentle and considerate, when I do not need her not to be." That threw me for a few moments, until I wrapped my head around what she was saying. Hooray for double negatives!

The King's Highway ran east-west, and our destination was off to the northeast, so we headed toward the rising sun at a moderate pace. Aylwyn seemed perfectly content to keep to herself, so we mostly rode in silence, except for the rhythmic beating of hooves against the pavement. For the first few hours, things were pretty calm. We'd gotten off to an early start, and we were still in the heart of the kingdom, where there were a lot of towns and villages spaced about a day's journey apart, so we didn't run into many travelers, either on the road or camped beside it. With no streetlights and no headlights, nighttime traffic wasn't really a thing around here. (I'd had light bulbs on my to-do list at the Academy for a while, but first we needed to improve our ability to generate electric power a little bit further before they'd become practical.)

Once the sun was rising in the sky, we started seeing the occasional traveler, mostly merchants with carts. Seeing them, I asked Aylwyn, "so what's the plan? Once we retrieve what we're looking for... it's going to be big and heavy and bulky; too much for horses, even yours I'd wager. Are we going to get some carts at some point?"

"When they are needed," she said with a slight nod of her head.

Well. That explains everything! I tried not to grumble too noticeably. "So are you going to buy them, or just..." I waved my hands in the air, "summon something up? Because the advance that Lady Khal provided for expenses-"

"-will be more than sufficient to cover the cost of even a large cart, and two draft horses or other beasts of burden to pull it."

I shook my head. "Only if you really skimp on the beasts of burden. And then you end up getting what you pay for. I'm not about to take a couple discount horses up into the mountains, and then back down and over a trip of... what will it be? Three hundred miles, something like that? Likely as not, I'd end up with two lamed or dead horses."

She just gave me an infuriatingly calm smile. "You would, if you did not have a companion along who is well-versed in both animal husbandry and the healing arts."

I opened my mouth to object, then closed it again as my brain realized I had no good objection to make. She had a surprisingly good point. That didn't mean I liked it; it felt like cheating. Like when she'd shown up just in time to distract the guard at the manor; it just seemed a little bit too good to be true. "So just to be clear, when you say healing arts, you're talking about Celestial power, laying-on-of-hands, miraculous healing type stuff, right? Not 'bind its wounds, give it some herbs and hope it gets better'?"

"I am," she confirmed with another little nod. "There is little I can do to help a dead horse--or a dead person, for that matter--but if I reach it before that point, my power can maintain and strengthen both the spiritual force of life and the physical processes of health and wellness."

Hmm. That's an interesting distinction to draw. "Unless it's me," I said pensively. "Try and heal me, and I'm not sure what would happen. Most likely nothing at all, but every now and then the Twist goes chaotic and magic backfires in crazy ways. You might end up with one of your wings turning green or something." Then I gave her my cheekiest grin. "Not that that would be a bad color on you..."

She just sighed and looked away in silence, but I was watching carefully, and I could see her torso shaking slightly in what could only be laughter. Once she'd had a few moments to compose herself, she turned back to me. "You would be unable to do many of the things you do, if you did not have some way to suppress the Twist when it is inconvenient."

That made me wonder if she knew about the ring. Afterall, Fiona Khal could easily have found out from her fellow archmage, Gerald Wolf. "You make a good point," I said cautiously, "but many of the situations in which I'd be likely to be injured are ones in which you wouldn't want me to be holding it back, right?"

Apparently that was the wrong thing to say. She turned in the saddle and looked directly into my eyes. "I do not want you to use your power around me at all. The last two times you did, it ruined months of hard work each time! When I said I hoped not to see you again, I was not exaggerating, and I was not joking. I am working with the Magi because they use their magic to build things, to raise people up and help them to improve. But your Twist, it does not build, and it does not improve. All it does is ruin and break things. Chaos follows in your wake, and now I am caught up in it, because you used your power yet again. I go along with it because I must, because it is the least bad option available, but that does not make it a good option. So do not think that I want anything that happens while we are working together on this quest."

Ouch! I'd been getting all bored with her not talking much. That'll teach me to be careful what I wish for! But still, there was something that didn't add up. "Then why did you help me escape?"

"I knew that what was done, was done, and that it could not be undone. I knew that you had been deceived, and I knew that Fiona Khal would return soon. I did not want anyone to take any further hasty actions that could not be undone, before having time to think."

"So... you don't like me, but you still didn't want to see me get hurt?"

"Is that such a strange idea?"

I chuckled a little. "Sometimes, it seems like it is. Though personally, I'm all for it. Seems to me, the idea that you should permit, and even defend, someone's right to say or do things you don't personally like or agree with ought to be regarded as the first principle of civilized society, if for no other reason than that the next time around, you might be the one doing something someone doesn't like, and you'd want them backing you up. Right?"

"Your high-minded talk of principles would sound much less self-serving were we not discussing an act of thievery." Hmph. So much for introducing the concept of the First Amendment.

"From what I'd been told, this was supposed to be an act of retrieval, not thievery. Technically, I think it still was; deciding whether or not it would have been better for the kingdom had Lady Khal remained in possession of the stolen property, rather than having it returned to its legitimate owner, is a utilitarian question, not a moral one."

"If that is how you justify yourself..." she sighed.

"OK, look. You're not the only one who thinks this whole business sucks. At least you know what's going on, you know who you're working for and what side you're on. Fiona compared me to a gray chess piece, being moved around by both players, and you know what? She's right, and I'm starting to get sick of it already. I don't want to be here any more than you do!"

The angel looked a little bit surprised by this. She turned to face me again, looking into my eyes with a strangely intense gaze. "And where do you want to be?"

On some beach, far away from dragons and wizards and kingdoms and magic, rubbing coconut oil all over you and finding out if those sexy wings really are as soft as they look! I opened my mouth, then suddenly shut it when I realized what I was about to say. And I really was right about to say that. It just... came out, except it didn't come out because I caught it in time. But I shouldn't have even had to. "What did you just do to me?" I asked, glowering at her. "I've already had a dragon try to mess with my head; I don't need you to as well!"

She just smirked at me and turned away. "I don't know what you're talking about, Paul Twister. And I would certainly not use my powers to attempt to compel you to speak, if that's what you are implying." She floofed her wings just a little. "Green is not a good color on me, your tastes notwithstanding."

Hoo boy. It was going to be a long journey.

* * *

Turns out it was going to be a significantly shorter journey than I'd expected. Aylwyn wasn't kidding about being handy with horses; she was able to do something to my horses that kept them fresh and strong far longer than they normally would have been. I changed mounts about as often as I would have anyway, but they held up admirably and we made almost fifty miles that day, which is pretty amazing. If we could keep up a pace like that, it would trim an entire week off our trip, maybe even more.

That didn't mean it wasn't still going to be a long journey!

She never had to change mounts, of course. Wyntaf just kept on going and going and going, like some sort of Energizer Horse. We finally stopped for the evening at the local inn for some little village. The sun was on its way down. We could probably have gotten another hour in, maybe a bit more, before dark, but we wouldn't have gotten as far as the next town. We took our mounts to the stables and spent the better part of the remaining daylight getting them properly cooled down and cared for--yes, even Wyntaf, and unlike me, Aylwyn wouldn't allow the stable-boys to help out with her horse--before going inside. She did tip them and ask that all three be fed extra tonight, though, as they'd had a long, hard day and needed their strength. I figured that was actually pretty decent of her, seeing as how she'd been the one drawing all that extra strength forth.

We each got a room. She insisted on having hers be next to mine, which I found a little bit flattering until I realized it was probably so she could keep tabs on me. That was kind of flattering too, but in a different way. She did sit with me to eat, though. I asked the innkeeper for some stew and a leg of rabbit, but I was a bit surprised when she asked for a big steak, if they had any. Turns out they did, plus boiled potatoes and vegetables. I guess I shouldn't have been surprised to see that someone larger than me and living a physically active lifestyle would eat a lot of high-energy food, but I kind of was.

The night and the next morning passed pretty uneventfully, and then we were on our way.

* * *

The next few days were all like that. We didn't talk too much, what with all the tension between us, and our horses ate up the miles at a good pace. We passed plenty of travelers, and a few bands of royal knights on patrol, and we'd rest at an inn each night. It was pretty exhausting, and not just physically. The only thing worse than being all alone is being all alone while you're with someone, if that makes any sense. Finally, on the fourth night, I asked the question that had been on my mind for the last several days. "So what were you doing in that dungeon anyway?"

She looked at me oddly. "What do you mean, specifically?" She knew I already knew the general idea of what had been going on.

"If you're a liason to the Circle, at a high enough level that you're working with the Archmagi, surely De Long would have known about you."

She nodded. "That's not a question..."

"Yeah. I'm thinking it through. You said that you had allowed yourself to be captured. But why was he trying? If nothing else, he must have known that your absence would be noticed after some time..."

"Do you know why I am working with the Magi?"

"Yeah, you said. You like what they're doing. You like how they're trying to build up civilization. It jibes well with the Celestial agenda, so you figured you'd lend a hand. Or someone sent you to. I'm not too clear on the organizational details of the Celestial Paladins."

She nodded, but didn't elaborate on that part of things. "That is half of it. The other half is the agenda, as you put it, that I oppose: that of the dragons. They see your world and your people in much the same way that a farmer views his land and livestock. The past century has been a time of unprecedented peace for the human lands, and certainly that is a good thing, but a good deal of the reason behind it is draconic meddling. Having their livestock kill each other is regarded as undesirable."

"And how does that end up with you in a dungeon?"

She chuckled a little. "Fiona Khal said you spoke like this. Very well, if you must know so impatiently... I had reason to believe that there is a renegade faction within the Magi, who are working with the dragons to undermine the gains that they are beginning to produce. My investigation led me to Robert De Long, but he was not acting alone. Before I could determine who he was working with, he confronted me. He used a great deal of magic to attempt to capture me, and I allowed him to succeed, or to think he was succeeding."

"Why?"

"So that he would capture me and interrogate me. Knowing the questions that a person wants answered can teach you quite a bit about that person."

I grinned at her. "Reverse interrogation! That's... almost devious of you, Aylwyn."

"I do not find your approval a mark of honor," she replied dryly.

"Of course not. So unfortunately, that's about when I showed up, under etheric contract to remove a seal from what he had me believing was a magical item of some sort."

"Again, you seek to justify you disastrous misdeeds at every turn."

"What was it you said to me earlier? 'I go along with it because I must, because it is the least bad option available, but that does not make it a good option.' It's kinda like that with me, all the time."

She just scoffed. "With the fees from the work you are hired to do, you could retire entirely from your career of crime and live in comfort for the rest of your days."

I shook my head. "I don't do it to get rich. I do it for two reasons. First, because a lot of it's already spoken for. Most of that money doesn't actually end up being spent on me, believe it or not, but that doesn't mean I don't need to to keep coming in. And second, setting a high price keeps out people who aren't serious. I don't actually enjoy putting my life on the line so some wizard can have a shiny new toy to play with, you know..."

Aylwyn sighed. "I will not even ask what it is that 'speaks for' your vast wealth. With the fortunes you are reputed to have earned, you could actually be a force for good in the kingdom." She paused, then asked, "did you know that the Magi are working to produce magic mirrors in great quantities? Eventually, they wish for every town hall and village square, every inn and every keep, to have one, that knowledge and information may be shared more easily, and that people in distress may call for aid from their neighbors."

Hoo boy. She could not have given me a more perfect set-up line if she'd tried. I wanted so badly to throw it back in her face and tell her I was the guy behind those nice, hard, smooth roads we'd been making such good time on. But that would bring me more trouble than it's worth. Instead, I just said the first flippant, irreverent thing that came to mind. "Well, unless you find out the project's being run by someone who goes by the name of Alexander Bell, that's really got nothing to do with me."

She blinked. "Who is Alexander Bell? An enemy of yours?"

I shook my head. "Guy from far away, who died long ago. Nevermind. It was just a joke."

"You have a strange sense of humor," she said, looking all bemused.

It was an interesting piece of knowledge, though. I'd known the Circle of Magi were into promoting civilization, but all I had really known about their work was more on the negative side: the sorts of impediments to civilized society that they were working on diminishing or eliminating entirely. This was the first I'd heard of them trying to add something new to the equation and directly promote progress among non-magical society. I'd thought Stark Academy was the only real force for progress around, but here are these guys working to set up a magical telephone network!

I filed it away for future reference. When I got back to the Academy, I'd speak to the wizards in Magical Research. The Magi may have some visionary who came up with the idea of something like this, but I had actual, practical experience with the end product. I might be able to contribute some useful ideas.

Then something occurred to me. "Is it possible," I asked, "for an uninvited third party with a mirror of his own to eavesdrop on an etheric conversation? If it was, I'd definitely be wary of whoever controlled the mirrors..."

She actually looked disturbed by this, as if it had never occurred to her before. "I... not that I know of," she said. "I have no training in etheric theory, but I would like to think that, if such a thing were possible, I would have at least heard rumors about it."

"Unless whoever discovered it wanted to keep it a closely-guarded secret, so as not to lose their advantage." I flashed her a crooked grin when I saw her thinking it over. "Welcome to my world, m'lady."

"Harrumph. Your world is shadowy and chaotic. I will remain in the world that is civilized."

I chewed on my lip a little. This might be a useful opening. "I can tell that this idea bugs you, though. I actually know someone who might be able to get some solid answers."

She shook her head. "We are already on one quest. Let's not invent new ones to distract us."

"It actually wouldn't be very far out of our way at all. Maybe an extra day or so. I've got a friend in the Circle, an Archmage by the name of Gerald Wolf. We're passing not too far from--hey, what's wrong?"

Aylwyn had always been fairly guarded around me, but when I mentioned Gerald, she went positively stone-faced, as if she were exerting a huge amount of willpower to avoid some sort of emotional outburst. When I questioned her, she took a few slow, deep breaths, then said, as levelly as she could, "Gerald Wolf was the Archmagus that Robert De Long reported to in the Circle. Bad blood is known to run deep between him and Ken'tu Kel, and were it not for his exceptional skill and potency in the magical arts, he would never have even been considered for the position he holds. He was foremost of the people I was searching for evidence against when I was captured by De Long." She paused, and took another deep breath, then continued. "And you count him as a friend."

Oh, she did not just go there! "Yeah, I count him as a friend because he's a good person, and I don't have to be a particularly good person myself to recognize that. You guessed earlier that I have some way to deal with the Twist, so it doesn't affect things at inopportune moments. Well, you were right, but I'd never have been able to do that if it wasn't for him. You talk about chaos following in my wake? Well, the only reason I have a wake at all, instead of being the eye of a freaking storm, is my friend, Gerald Wolf! And I'll thank you to remain civil when you speak of him! Simply because he has personal disagreements with someone good doesn't make him evil, and he'd hardly be the first powerful person in history with a treacherous underling."

She bore my little outburst with remarkable patience. In retrospect, I'm really glad we were the only patrons in the common room that night. That was kind of dumb of me, to go shouting about the Twist in a public place like that. "Are you finished?" she asked once I stopped ranting.

I thought about it for a moment, taking a few deep breaths of my own and composing myself. "Almost," I said. "Now, it's been a few years since I've seen my friend. And I think I'm going to rectify that. I'm going to visit him when we get close enough. You're free to come along, if you'd like. Maybe you can look for some sort of evidence against him, if that's what you really want to do. But I'm going to visit my friend and spend some time catching up. Maybe even learn a few interesting things about etheric communication. All right?"

The angel sighed and shook her head. "It really isn't all right," she said. "Somehow I know that this will bring trouble. But I also know that you will bring trouble if I attempt to stop you when you are so determined. So, we will visit your friend, and then deal with the consequences, whatever they may be."

"Sounds good to me," I said, and that was that. I quickly finished up my dinner, then headed up to my room. It was the best night's sleep I'd had since this stupid journey began.

11: Gray Wolf

Chapter 11
Gray Wolf

The first time I met Gerald Wolf, I was still fairly new to being Paul Twister.  It had been almost a year since I first came up with the alias, and most of my time had been spent trying to avoid having to use it.  Thanks to my time as a farm laborer, I was in relatively good shape, but unfortunately that was about the only thing I had going for me, other than the Twist.

I had only a minimal knowledge of local geography, politics, and culture.  I didn't have much in the way of money, I couldn't read or write in the local language, and my only other marketable skills required the invention of the computer or the ballpark before they'd come in handy.  I was a decent actor, but without accreditation from the Bards' College, that wouldn't open too many doors for me, and I'd foolishly thrown that prospect out the window because I'd been a little bit in shock when the opportunity presents itself.  Seeing a person you know get killed right in front of you--especially for the first time--can really do a number on your emotional state.  (And when I eventually did come back and end up getting in a few years later, I never got too far, thanks to my incurable case of illiteracy.  Most subjects I can pick up well enough, but it's basically impossible to learn a written language with zero knowledge of the structure of the spoken language it represents, and I've always heard everything as English since I arrived here.  Maybe a linguist could have done it, but not me.)

I had a car and a smartphone hidden away, a few amazing pieces of high technology that could have turned me into the wealthiest guy in the world if I had any way to actually produce more of them, but they were so high-tech that it would take hundreds of years to reach that point, making them effectively useless.  (A few years later, when the blue jeans I'd been wearing when I got brought here started wearing out, I realized I did have one piece of modern technology that was actually practical enough to be valuable: the zipper.  But it wasn't until Stark Academy came around that I had the resources to get someone to reverse-engineer it.)

So, long story short, picking up some odd jobs as Paul Twister was about the only way I had to earn money, beyond arduous manual labor.  I'd catch wind of a job, contact the guy, hear his pitch, haggle strenuously over prices, and then go break some magic for them, usually so I could "extract" a coveted possession.  You know how it goes.  Gotta eat to live, gotta steal to eat, tell ya all about it when I got the time...

I didn't much like it, though. I had to deal with a lot of really scuzzy types, sometimes as my victims, more often as my employers, and occasionally as both.  But it provided a much-needed source of income, and I got to travel and learn about the world around me.

Turns out people actually found me by my blue jeans.  Dark blue dye was very hard to come by, and the cut of the jeans was quite distinctive, so as my fame began to slowly spread, the "sapphire trousers" somehow became Paul Twister's trademark.  Once I found out about that, it became a very useful thing to know; I could wear them to a tavern if I wanted to be recognized--to drum up some business, for example--or switch to more common peasant clothing to preserve my anonymity.  I also stopped wearing them on actual jobs, and worked to change the reputation a little.  It ended up getting around that the man in the sapphire trousers was Paul Twister's agent, the person you would contact to set up a meeting!  And one day, a man approached me in a tavern, telling me that he was the agent of one Gerald Wolf, and he wished to arrange a meeting between his Master and mine.

I almost didn't take the job.  I'd turned down jobs based on a bad gut feeling before, and the name just kind of creeped me out.  I was half expecting him to either be some sort of lycanthrope, or a vicious predator of the more human variety.  But business had been bad recently and I really needed the money.  I'm sure glad I did, looking back now!  So I arranged to have Paul Twister meet Mr. Wolf in an inn at the edge of town, and with some trepidation, I went to the meeting at the arranged day and time.

When I walked into the back room, there was a rather large man seated at the table.  Well, he certainly didn't look the least bit lupine, or predatory at all, really. A lot of the wizards I've met didn't look much like you'd expect a wizard should.  Gerald was one of the closest to the ideal, though, but... a lot heavier. Imagine if they'd cast Santa Claus in the role of Gandalf, and you'd have a good idea of his basic appearance.  He even wore a red robe, amusingly enough!

"Are you Gerald Wolf?" I asked.

He smiled, a very genuine, friendly smile, the sort of thing that makes a person seem all trustworthy.  The sort of thing that put me on my guard; I'd learned how cruelly deceptive appearances--especially pleasant ones--could be way back in middle school, and living here had only honed that instinct.  "I am," he said.  "And you must be Paul Twister."

"Must I?  There are days when I think I'd prefer to be someone else."

The heavyset wizard laughed.  "As would I!  As would almost everyone, I'd wager, though few will admit to it so freely."

I couldn't help it; I laughed along with him.  "I suppose that's true."

He gestured to himself. "Take me, for example.  Right now, I'm a wizard doing some research.  I'd prefer to be a wizard with a completed theory."

"Is that what you need my help with, Mr. Wolf?"

He nodded. "Have you ever heard of entropy?"

"The concept?" I asked.  Another nod, smaller this time.  That surprised me; that's an unexpectedly scientific term, for a place like this.  "A formalization of the notion of disorder.  The force of decay, the inevitable byproduct of time as it acts upon all things?  That entropy?"  I had no idea what concept he had in mind, but if whatever it is that's translating language for me spits out that word, I'm going to start with the definition I know.

"Well, I wouldn't paint such a bleak picture as that, but that's essentially correct."

I bit my lip, judging that this was probably not the best time to get into a discussion of the Laws of Thermodynamics and how they do paint exactly such a bleak picture as that.  "Very well, Mr. Wolf.  What about it?"

"My theory," he said.  "As you said, entropy is related to the passage of time, among other factors.  The magic of time is something of a specialty of mine, and I've been looking into the relationship between time and decay.  I am very close to a successful means of counteracting entropy entirely."

That sent a chill down my spine.  I mean, I'm no physicist, but I picked up enough in Physics and Chemistry classes to know that entropy is a fundamental component of how natural processes work.  The possibility for unintended consequences if you shut down the Second Law were... I would say "disastrous" but that's really not strong enough of a word.  This guy was poking around deep in "mad scientist" territory, and I was a bit nervous just being around him.

He was also a powerful wizard, and freaking out or doing something impulsive was likely to be hazardous to my health, so instead I just gave him the most level look I could and asked, "Are you sure that would be a good idea?"

That made him laugh again, a warm, infectious, mirthful sound from deep in his belly. "I see you're a much more educated man than your reputation would suggest!  Most people would never consider the downside to tampering with such a fundamental force.  They would only see the obvious advantages."

I shrugged a little.  "It's not a reputation I've worked particularly hard to cultivate," I said, lying through my teeth.  It's always better to get people to underestimate you if you're likely to be in any sort of adversarial relationship with them.  "People just tend to see what they want to see.  If you expect a mercenary who can break magic, that's all you're likely to notice, you know?  But you're the first potential employer who's ever spoken to me of high theoretical concepts."

Gerald nodded.  "Well, what do you think, then?  What ill effects might come of working magic to counter the force of entropy?"

That put me on my guard.  Was he trying to feel me out?  "That depends," I said cautiously.  "It's a very broad subject.  What are you trying to do?"

"Nothing catastrophic," he said.  "Or, nothing with effects that I can foresee as catastrophic, though I've learned that any man, no matter how wise or how foolish, can produce a plan so good that they can see no flaws in it!"  That made me laugh, which got him laughing as well.  "You know it's true, don't you?" he asked, his eyes twinkling with mirth.

I nodded.  Despite myself, I was actually starting to like the guy.  "I've seen many such plans. Some had no flaws, others... not so much.  So, what are you trying to do?"

"Preservation, mostly.  Imagine, if you will, a cabinet with an enchantment placed upon it, such that entropy does not operate within... that decay does not operate within."

Hearing that stopped me cold.  It almost sounded like he was inventing a magical refrigerator!  I'd always known, intellectually, that people here were just ordinary people, and were't stupid simply because they hadn't managed to invent the standard of living I was used to, but this was the first time it really hit home that I was in a place where there were people capable of genuine progressive thought on the subject!  This moment was where the idea that eventually became Stark Academy was first planted in my mind.

I chewed on my lip, thinking it over.  "You're either trying to build a better coffin," I said slowly, "or a way to store fresh food, meats and fruits and the like, without needing to pack it in expensive preservatives such as ice, salt or honey."

His eyes widened a little when I said that, then narrowed after a few moments.  "Have you been spying on me?" he asked slowly.  "No one reaches a conclusion like that, that quickly."

Getting caught in a lie can be pretty bad.  Even worse is having someone think they've caught you in a lie when you never actually lied to them.  Of course, no actual lies (real or imagined) had been told here, but he definitely seemed to think I was deceiving him, pretending to be smart because I was acting on insider information, so the same basic idea applied.  And the problem is, when you're caught in a real lie, you can always fall back on the truth.  When you're caught in a truth, though, sometimes the only way out... is to tell a lie.

Or a half-truth, in this case.  "Not at all," I said.  "I'm simply extrapolating from familiar concepts.  I grew up in the mountains, and there was a carpenter who built special ice-chests.  Place ice in the upper chamber, and allow air to circulate freely to the lower chamber, where you'd keep fresh food, not quite cold enough to freeze it but cold enough to stave off decay.  He would sell them cheaply to raise demand for ice, as he ran a business quarrying a glacier up the mountain."

"That sounds messy," Gerald observed.  "You'd end up with pools of meltwater in the bottom of the cabinet, and the ice would constantly need to be replaced."

I nodded.  "But when it keeps meat fresh an extra week longer, people will tolerate the inconvenience.  You think you can do the same, then, without the ice?"

"In a word, yes.  So tell me, what are the dangerous flaws in my plan?  I would like to know if there is anything I haven't thought of."

I grinned at him. "Is that why you wished to hire me?  I've never been asked on as a consultant before..."

He shook his head. "No, but since you seem to be both educated and somewhat passionate on the subject... why not ask?"

"Very well.  My first concern is that many of the processes of decay are processes of life.  When a body dies, it is eaten by worms and maggots.  Meat can grow maggots or mold, and mold grows on bread as well.  These things are small, but they are indisputably alive.  There are enormous things that live in our world--the dragon, the elephant, the mighty ancient trees--things that are much larger than we are.  And then there are maggots and insects and mold, things much smaller than us.  Who is to say that the other, more subtle processes of decay are not also caused by forms of life that are smaller still?  Your anti-entropic cabinet could easily turn out to be a death chamber of sorts."

He looked pensive.  "You are quite the natural philosopher, Paul.  That's an idea I had never considered.  What would you do, to demonstrate a theory like that?"

That made me think a little.  "Well, a lot of the obvious answers are the stuff of cautionary tales," I mused.  "I suppose what I would do, if I had a working cabinet, is place some food inside, and some water in a small, shallow dish, and lock a mouse in with it, and see how well it survived."

He nodded approvingly.  "That's a very good idea, though I'm not convinced by your radical theory that all decay is caused by living creatures."

"Not all of it," I said.  "But it would not surprise me if life were responsible for more than we think.  There is often much more to a situation than that which is readily visible, is there not?"

"Indeed there is," he said, a wry grin tugging at his lips.

"So," I said, trying to steer the conversation back on-topic, "if you weren't looking to hire me for my knowledge of theoretic concepts that you did not know I was versed in, what did you have in mind?"

"Simply put, I am interested in your power, for its own sake.  From the tales people tell of you, I wonder if what you do might not be entropic in nature, disrupting magic by causing it to decay very rapidly."

Well, that's certainly not what I was expecting!  "You want to try to study my power?" I asked.  "Somehow reverse-engineer the Twist?  I can think of two obvious things to do with such knowledge: finding a way to duplicate it, or finding a way to ward against it.  Neither one would be in my best interests."

He responded to that quickly enough that he must have already thought of it and been prepared for me to make that argument.  "Would it be in your best interests if I found a way to ward you against it?  Surely it's not always convenient for you to break any magic you touch, and it is likely to become even less so in the years to come. There are several wizards putting forth an idea that is beginning to gain ground among us, that we should build enchantments that would help ordinary people, and try to make them common.  My food-preserving cabinet is such an idea, or I would like for it to be at least.  But should the ideas of these mages prove successful, day-to-day life will grow increasingly inconvenient for you without some form of protection.  I believe I can devise such a thing, if I was able to study your power.  If there truly are days when you would prefer not to be Paul Twister... this would help, would it not?"

He made a pretty good point.  It had already inconvenienced me a few times.  And I've always been well-aware of the value of knowledge, so I cautiously agreed to work with him.  "All right," I said slowly.  "Then that will be my price.  You devise something to counter the Twist--something I can carry with me, that will not require you to cast it on me in order for it to work.  And any new enchantment, device, or other useful magic that you come up with with my assistance, I may demand one copy of it as payment.  Plus, for as long as I work for you, you will cover the cost of food, rooming, and other basic living expenses, and three delin per week."

I figured that would make him back off; that's a pretty steep rate for what was essentially a job as a test subject.  But he turned out to be quite serious about the whole thing.  "Done," he said.  Then he looked me up and down with a critical eye.  "So long as you swear to me to be fair in your consumption of such basic living expenses.  There is a certain leanness about you, one that does not come from not eating much.  Would I be wrong to guess that you could hold your own, even against a man as large as me, in an eating contest?"

I couldn't help but laugh at that, because it was very true!  "My childhood friends chided me about that," I admitted.  "They said I have a hollow leg."

He frowned slightly, thinking over the unfamiliar idiom. "A hollow... leg?  As if you were storing food there, instead of just in your stomach?  That is an odd joke to make."

"I suppose. But the point is, you're right.  I enjoy food, but my tastes are not extravagant, and you don't need to worry that I will eat you out of house and home.  You have my word."

"Very well," he replied.  "Normally, I would not trust the word of a thief, but you make me think that there is more to you than simply what the rumors tell."

That made me curious.  "What would you have done, had our interview not convinced you of that?"

He shrugged. "I'd have given you a silver piece for your time and sent you away.  But I had a feeling that there would be.  There usually is, in my experience."

That right there, I think, gives a perfect summary of who Gerald is and what he's like.  He's one of those rare people who is genuinely interested in looking for the good in others and helping them to develop it, and also has the resources at his disposal to actually do so effectively.  I didn't really believe it at first, but as we worked together over the next few months, I caught a few glimpses into his personal life and the other things he spent his time and effort on, and I came to realize that beneath the warm, friendly exterior was a genuinely warm and friendly person.

Which isn't to say that everything was happy or easy. This was back when the Circle of Magi was more of a concept in a few wizards' minds than an actual organization, and back before Gerald rose to any sort of prominence. He lived in a simple house at the edge of a small riverside town, and he was mostly known as a kindly healer.  He produced some minor enchantments for various nobles that brought in a decent income stream, but most of his work was devoted to scholarship and helping out in the community. He arranged for me to room with an old widow whose son had gone off to seek his fortune and just never returned, and we carried out our experiments in a rented warehouse.

Turns out he wanted me less as a test subject and more as a piece of lab equipment--a powerful entropy generator.  The more he worked with me, the more evidence we found that his theory was correct.  He had some way of measuring the effects of the Twist, and he calculated that I could apply approximately a week's worth of entropy to most forms of magic over one second of physical contact.  Since most magic wasn't designed to last for several days, this caused spell effects to collapse, and even more permanent enchantments could be dispelled by wearing away at one specific part of them.  He also came up with the first good theory of the strange, chaotic side-effects that the Twist seemed to occasionally generate at random.

Imagine a house that stands strong because it's well-built, but then someone starts tearing down one of its walls.  At some point, the house is going to collapse, but depending on how things fall, it's possible that what you'll end up with isn't a flattened pile of rubble, but something at least somewhat useful as a sheltering structure, though of course not nearly as useful as an actual house.  Apparently magic has a definite structure like that, and when the Twist destabilized it, it could occasionally collapse into something else, with a different, unexpected magical effect.

I tried to pick up some magical theory, which Gerald was more than happy to attempt to teach me, but it never really went anywhere because I couldn't read.  He always found it a bit odd that someone as obviously educated as myself could be illiterate, but I never actually explained it, of course, and I made sure not to write anything in English when he was around.  That would raise more questions than I'd be comfortable with.  But he appreciated the utility of my mind for discussing ideas with, which made our time together a lot more bearable for me.

With my help, he did eventually develop his anti-entropic fridge, but unfortunately it turned out not to be useful.  Turns out my "novel theory" about the biological basis for the decay of food was correct enough that the principles involved were hostile to life itself, and they could cause some bizarre changes in food kept within that could make it harmful over a prolonged period of time.  We did find, though, that iron kept within the box could be preserved without rusting, and without any noticeable damage or alteration.  Some good did come of all that, though; our discoveries on life and decay eventually led him to the principle of omne vivum ex vivo (with a bit of prodding from me) and some very useful advances in the arts of healing.

When we heard of a woman near where he lived dying from an infection shortly after giving birth, I told him that just as no one should take bad food into their body through their mouth, it would probably be a good idea to ensure that unsanitary things are kept out of the birth canal.  He started spreading around the notion that midwives should cleanse their hands thoroughly with alcohol, hot water and strong lye soap before attending to a woman in labor, and postpartum mortality dropped off sharply over the next few years as people put his theory to the test and found out it gave good results.  That felt good, even though I never actually met any of the mothers that this idea ended up helping.

Gerald made good on his promise to find a way to counteract the Twist, of course.  Once he had learned enough, he enchanted a simple silver ring with settings in it for three small gemstones, which he used to power the enchantment that would contain and neutralize the entropic forces.  The gems had to be charged with magical energy frequently, because fighting the Twist used a lot of energy and it could "run down the batteries" pretty quickly, but as long as I fed it a steady stream of infused stones, it seemed to work well.  The trick, of course, was coming up with a steady stream of infused gemstones.  That was just as difficult to do as it sounds, so I ended up using the ring sparingly.

I stayed with him for about seven months.  He'd have kept me longer, but I was getting a little bit restless.  I was still a geek at heart, and working on all this theoretical stuff that was 100% useless to me was like being trapped in a cage while I was hungry, and just outside was a guy grilling hamburgers.  I could smell it, almost taste it, but never actually take a satisfying bite of anything yummy.  He understood, and we parted on good terms.  I didn't end up taking any prototypes of our research with me, though I did come back several years later, once the Stark Academy project was really getting underway, to claim an anti-entropic generator to protect the secure vault I maintained in the stables.  He was a bit concerned when I asked for one with the power to fill a moderate-sized room, but I assured him that I would never use it to store or harm any living being.  It took a bit of persuasion, but he did eventually honor our agreement and prepare one for me.

So I ended up leaving Gerald's employment to go seek learning and knowledge at the Bards' College.  And aside from the one brief visit to acquire some magic for my vault, I never saw him again until the day Aylwyn and I rode up to his tower.

12: Wolf Pack

Chapter 12
Wolf Pack

"Hello, the tower!" I called out as I rode past the treeline. It was midday, and the sky was nice and clear, and so I'd been able to vaguely see the top of the tower from a ways off, but that had been through the tops of the trees we'd been riding through. My salutation went unheard as I realized I'd badly misjudged what I'd seen. Gerald had cut a treebreak pretty far back, maybe half a mile in all directions, and the tower was about eight stories tall. That's the sort of thing that can really play with your depth perception; until I got through the trees, I was expecting something a lot shorter and a lot closer by!

It had to be the busiest Wizard's Tower I'd seen, with outbuildings set all around it. Guardhouses, of course, but also a forge, a windmill, a few warehouses, and even what looked like a handful of homes! It was as if, instead of following the usual wizardly practice of retreating from civilization when building a tower, Gerald had brought it along with him! As I got closer to his private little village, I was surprised to see that there was a small network of roads between the various buildings, and they were paved with cement. As far as I knew, the Royal Engineers had never been out this way.

Aylwyn was staying a good fifteen yards behind me, as if to underscore the idea that she really didn't want to waste time on coming here. Things had been cooler than usual between the two of us for a couple days now. I'm not sure why, but apparently she got somewhat offended when I asked why Wyntaf, being a celestial horse, didn't have wings too. She just looked at me with a slightly shocked expression, as if I'd just made a horribly racist remark about angels, and indignantly pointed out that of course she didn't have wings; she was a horse and was much too heavy to fly. Now, the square-cube law notwithstanding, even I had enough tact to realize that pointing out that she was as well wouldn't be such a good idea, so instead I asked about dragons, which are much larger and heavier than horses. She replied that dragons use the force of their will to bend reality and make it possible for them to fly. And apparently this is nothing like magic, and the Twist would almost certainly not help me much against a dragon's will. But ever since then she'd been a bit huffy. Maybe she was just frustrated by having to explain simple things to me?

Sigh. Sometimes I think I'll never understand magic. Or Aylwyn.

But when she saw all the buildings, she rode up alongside me. "I had heard rumors," she said, "but... look!" She pointed to a tall building, partially obscured from view by the tower. "That's a granary. He really is building his own village." That was the most words she'd spoken to me since the flight conversation.

I shook my head. "I don't know. I mean, what's missing? Look around. Every village needs two things that aren't here."

The angel looked around, then her eyes widened a little as she realized what she was looking at--or more specifically, what she wasn't. "You're right. How can he build a village with no easy access to fresh water, and no cultivated land for food?"

But then we were getting in among the buildings, and there were people approaching. A pair of guards walked up, wearing leather armor, carrying some form of polearm, with shortswords at their hips. Nothing about their attitude suggested that they were hostile towards us, or viewed us with suspicion. Having an angel around probably helped a lot with that. "Greetings, travelers," one of them said.

I smiled. "Good day to you, sirs. I'm looking for Gerald Wolf. Where would I find him at this hour"

"The Archmage is in the tower," the second guard said, "probably at work on some experiment. Should I announce you?"

I nodded. "My name is Paul Cameron," I said, after a few moments. It was the only name for me Gerald knew that wouldn't cause trouble if I told it to the guard. "I'm a friend of Mr. Wolf." I slipped the ring off my finger and pressed it into one of the guards' palms, then closed his fingers over it. "Take this signet to him," I improvised. "He'll know me by it. Give it only to the Archmage and no one else, and if you can't find him quickly, bring it back right away. Can you do that, sir?"

The guard nodded. "I can." He glanced at his companion, and they nodded to each other, then he left, walking towards the tower at a brisk pace.

"I'll show you to the stables?" the other guard offered, looking up at us. He seemed a little bit in awe, mostly of Aylwyn. Yeah, having an angel around really does help when dealing with lawful authority figures!

"Yes, please," I said, dismounting and taking the reins in hand. Aylwyn did the same, and the man led us through the streets. It wasn't far to the stables, and we got a few of the stableboys to help us with cooling down and caring for our horses. Even Wyntaf needed some attention. Turns out she wasn't as tireless as I'd originally assumed. She was a celestial horse--as much bigger, tougher and just generally more awesome than my horses as a Celestial was versus an ordinary human--but she still got worn out after long days of traveling. But we took good care of them, and as we headed out of the stables, I saw a heavyset man in a red robe and a long, white beard waiting patiently outside, with the guardsman at his side.

His face broke into a grin when he saw me, and he tossed the ring at me with a flick of his wrist. I caught it out of the air and quickly slipped it on my hand, then walked over to greet him. And you should have seen the look on that poor guard's face when the great and mighty Archmagus reached out and pulled me into a bearhug all of a sudden! "Paul, my old friend!" he boomed. "What has it been now? Three years?"

"About that," I nodded, stepping back and grinning up at Gerald. "Three years that have been very good to you, it would seem. An Archmage, with a beautiful tower like this? And never a word to me? We've got some catching up to do!"

He glanced over behind me at Aylwyn. Lowering his voice, he murmured in my ear, "I see you found your 'being of great power.' It seems you have a story to share with me as well!"

I just grinned and clapped him on the back. "Let's go inside someplace and talk." I beckoned to Aylwyn to join us. "Aylwyn, this is Archmage Wolf. Have you met?"

She shook her head. "I know him only by reputation," she said, starting to follow as Gerald and I headed towards the tower. She kept her tone carefully neutral, but I already knew that she was rather unimpressed by what she had heard of his reputation. I hoped that actually meeting him would help improve that.

"It's always an honor to meet an angel," said Gerald, nodding his head politely to Aylwyn.

"Have you met many?" she asked as he led us inside. There was a sitting room on the ground floor, with a soft couch and several padded chairs. I can't speak for my traveling companion, but I for one was very happy to have something to sit down on that didn't move under me, for once. Riding a horse isn't a passive thing, and keeping up with its movements without it chafing your legs horribly can be exhausting! I slumped down on the couch, relaxing almost immediately and not caring what anyone thought of me.

"Only one before yourself," Gerald replied, looking my way and chuckling a little. "You've had a long trip, I can see! Are you hungry?"

I grinned at him. "More weary than hungry, really..." Then a thought struck me. "But if you have the right supplies... hmm. Do you have any stores of vegetable oil? The more mild the flavor, the better. I have an idea."

Now Gerald was the one to grin. "Another of your wild ideas, Paul?" He turned to Aylwyn and smiled. "I'm sure he hasn't told you this himself, but have you heard about the concept of Germ Theory that's been making the rounds among healers in the last few years?"

She looked thoughtful, then shook her head. "I've heard the term mentioned once or twice, but I'm not familiar with what it entails. Why?"

The Archmage chortled happily. "Oh, it's a truly novel idea! The theory is that, just as there is life that is much larger than us, and life that is much smaller than us as well, that there is also life smaller still, living creatures so small that they cannot be distinguished by mortal eyes. Creatures small enough to live and breed within our very bodies, like tiny parasites, and that it is these 'germs' that cause disease, and that by knowing their nature as living creatures, they can be killed to arrest the progress of a disease."

The angel nodded slowly. "That is a very interesting theory," she said slowly. "There is probably some grain of truth to it."

Wolf nodded back. "Well, I'm the one who's been spreading the idea around, and the more I study it, the more evidence I find to support the idea. It's led to remarkable advancements in treating illness already! But the thing that nobody knows... the healers got the idea from me, but I got it from Paul Twister!"

I sighed and shook my head a little, laughing softly. "Oh, don't be so modest, Gerald. I only made a few remarks that turned out to be close to the truth. All the research was yours."

He grinned. "Now who's being overly modest? This is a great time in history! We have the Circle, stamping out black magic and saying they will bring improvements in the quality of everyone's life by magical research. And I've heard tales of a mad visionary down in Keliar who's behind these nice roads the engineers have been putting in over the past few years. They say the man thinks he's Ken'tu Kel, except without the magic! He has these wild dreams and tells people to act on them, and strange new things come out. Silly toys, mostly. Smooth roads for wealthy nobles in carriages, steel that doesn't rust, turning water into lightning and storing it in jars of acid, bizarre ideas that do as little for common men and women as the Circle has, really. But there is one man in this whole land who has actually truly improved people's lot in life, and that was Paul, with his theory of germs!"

Wow. I wasn't expecting that. How to respond without compromising myself somehow?

I rolled my eyes. "I've actually met the 'mad genius' you're referring to. Man by the name of Anthony Stark. He's quite a pleasant fellow, when he isn't caught up in another of his wild inspirations. But I think you're being a bit hard on the man. I mean, building better roads itself can be as significant as our research into healing if it helps a man bring fresh food to market more quickly, so it will stay fresh longer. Germ Theory can help to heal a sick man, but would it not be just as good if he never took ill in the first place, because his food is good instead of bad?"

"Perhaps, perhaps," Gerald muttered. "And now you want to cook something with mild oil. Would peanut oil work? I believe we have some stores available." I nodded, and he clapped his hands, and I heard the sound echoing down the corridor, much further than it should have.

"Yes, Mr. Wolf?" a woman's voice asked, out of thin air.

"Jenna, I am entertaining guests, and one of them has an idea for a recipe. Could you accommodate him?"

"Certainly, sir. Give me a moment."

Aylwyn glanced over at Gerald. "So how do you know each other? Paul has only said that you are a friend."

Gerald glanced at me questioningly, as if to ask if I was trying to keep something from her. I just gave a little shrug of my shoulders and nodded my head subtly. He turned back to the angel and smiled. "It was years ago. We spent several months together doing research on magical theory. I learned a good deal from investigating his unusual ability, but a good deal more by simply conversing with him. Don't let his rough tongue deceive you, m'lady; Paul is one of the most intelligent men I have ever met, and well-educated also, though not without some strange ideas."

It was about then that the kitchen-maid, Jenna, walked in. She looked to be in her forties, about average height and a bit on the plump side, but not unpleasantly so. Her eyes widened a little at the sight of Aylwyn, but Gerald had asked her to accommodate "him," so she looked to me. "You have something you wish to cook, sir?"

I nodded and stood. "Paul Cameron," I said. "Can you show me to the pantry?"

"Be careful, Jenna," Gerald teased, his eyes twinkling. "He's likely to eat us all out of house and home if you let him!"

I just sighed and rolled my eyes at him. "I'll make it worth the burden," I snarked. Jenna led me down a hallway and into the kitchen, leaving Aylwyn and Gerald behind to talk. The pantry was off to one side, and I found some decent stores of food in there. "All right," I said, looking things over. "Mr. Wolf said you had peanut oil?"

She nodded, and quickly located a container of it. It looked to be about two gallons in size, and I looked inside and found it mostly full. "This will do. Do you have a pot that will hold all of this, and have some room left over?"

She raised an eyebrow in surprise. "All of it, sir?"

I nodded. "But you will be able to use it again once we're finished. Don't worry about that."

She looked skeptical, but she found a pot. "This would hold it," she said.

"Good. Can you put it on the stove and stoke the fire?" I poured the contents of the jar of oil into the pot. "We need to heat this to boiling, then cool it just a little bit, so it is almost boiling but not quite."

She set about heating the stove up, while I poked around in the pantry. It only took a few moments to find what I was looking for: a sack of potatoes. I brought several of them out and set them on a countertop.

Jenna looked over at me. "Potatoes, sir? I know how to prepare fried potatoes, and it does not require a pot or that much oil!"

I just grinned. "You know one way. I'm about to show you something new."

She nodded, then moved over from the stove, gathering up the potatoes. I was very gratified to see that she took them over to a basin and started scrubbing them thoroughly. Looks like Gerald had instilled good habits of sanitation in her. I was a bit surprised to see what she did next, though: once they had been washed, she retrieved a container of alcohol, poured it sparingly over the potatoes, and then took some tongs, retrieving a hot coal from the stove, and lighting them! It was only a little bit of alcohol, but the stuff burns pretty slowly, and so I watched them roasting in blue fire for several long seconds.

"Why did you do that?" I asked her, curious.

"Master Wolf says that the water washes away dirt, which is clear enough. But then he says that the alcohol and the flame will drive out infections that the water leaves behind." She gave a little shrug. "I know little of his magic, but no one has ever taken sick from eating my food since I began to cook by his rules."

I nodded slowly. A bit unorthodox, but it make a kind of sense. When the flames went out, I asked her for two knives. "All right, the secret here is in the cutting. We are preparing a different kind of fried potatoes. Instead of thin slices, we want square strips, as long as the potato and as thick as a finger." I started cutting to demonstrate, and she caught on and started on one of her own, and after several minutes we had a nice pile of raw potato strips ready.

"These look good," I said. "Now, we want to dump them in the hot oil." It was just beginning to boil, and she did something with the coals to reduce the heat. "Wrap some sort of cloth around your hands first, to protect against splashing." She nodded and retrieved some cheesecloth from the pantry, then gathered up the potato strips. "And I simply dump them in the pot?"

"Yes," I nodded. "But slowly. You don't want to splash the hot oil out, even with the cloth to protect your skin." She slowly poured them in, and I smiled. "Now we wait. They should cook for two or three minutes, until they turn a few shades darker than the oil. Until then, we'll need another pot, of about the same size, but wider at the top."

While she retrieved one, I went into the pantry again, looking for salt. I found some, but it was a fair bit coarser than I'd have liked, so I spent the next few minutes grinding it with a mortar and pestle until we had some nice, fine salt. When the fries were ready, I brought the second pot over, and stretched the cheesecloth she had used over the top of it, to act as a filter. "All right. Now you pour the whole thing into here.

She grabbed some padded gloves for handling the hot pot, and poured the contents through the cloth, and we had a batch of fries! I sprinkled the ground salt over them sparingly, then we both waved plates over the fries, fanning them until they had cooled enough to touch safely. Some of the ones that had been on the bottom of the pot had gotten burned, but the rest looked surprisingly good, especially for a first attempt! I tried one, then had her taste the next one, and her eyes widened just a little. "This is quite good, sir!"

I smiled. "They're called deep-fried potatoes, because they're fried down deep in the oil. You could probably keep from burning them if you had a way to suspend them in the oil so they didn't touch the bottom. Perhaps if you could get a smith to make a basket of metal to hang inside the pot, that would let the oil flow through but hold the potatoes up..." I went about gathering the pile of fries in a big bowl, laving a portion behind for Jenna to enjoy. "I'll take these back to the sitting room."

She nodded. "Thank you, sir." She ate another one, and grinned. "This is truly a fine preparation. The villagers will love it!"

"I'm sure they will."

* * *

Gerald loved them as well. Aylwyn... ate them, about like she ate most things, quietly and without much comment.

"These deep-fried potatoes are a fine thing, Paul!" the portly wizard grinned. "Perhaps not as useful as your theory of germs, but a good deal more satisfying!"

I laughed. "It's an old trick I learned as a child, from Old MacDonald, the farmer down the road." But we had more important things to discuss than food. "I have to wonder, though. Why do you have a village built around your tower? I thought the point of a tower was to isolate yourself somewhat from society."

He nodded slowly. "From ordinary society, perhaps. But this is not your average village. Every person here either has magical talent, or is an immediate family member of someone who does. Ken'tu Kel wants to use knowledge of magic to spread helpful ideas around, but he's too tied to the system of masters and apprentices. I'm trying something new: an academy of magic!"

Well, I wasn't quite sure what I was expecting, but that wasn't it! Wasn't such a bad idea, though. "How interesting! How's it coming so far?"

"Slowly," he said, "but things are going well." Then he surprised me. "I'd like to ask you to give a lecture tomorrow in our Healing Arts class, on Germ Theory."

That kind of floored me. "Tomorrow? Umm... I don't actually know what you've covered already," I protested, the words tumbling out.

"How long would this take?" Aylwyn interjected. "We really should continue on..."

Gerald looked over at me. "Oh, are you involved in something that needs to be done quickly?"

"Sort of," I said. The two of us explained the basic idea of our current quest to him.

When it was over, Gerald looked at me a bit strangely. "If you're working against Ryell," he asked slowly, "...then why are you carrying around a dragon-attuned stone?"

Aww crap!

13: Dragon Stone

Chapter 13
Dragon Stone

The sapphire.  I'd forgotten all about it.  Well, actually I hadn't; not really... I just hadn't thought about it much.  And now Gerald was asking about it.  And the worst part was... it was Gerald.  I respected him, and valued our friendship, far too much to give him the runaround on this or try to fast-talk him.  And that meant I'd have to come clean.

And in front of Aylwyn, too!  Ugh, this just kept getting better.  She looked at me with a horrified expression on her face.  "You're carrying what?"

I sighed.  "When Ryell's agent hired me, he gave me a stone as payment."  I glanced over at Gerald. "Apparently it's attuned to her, like the implement I was given for retrieving the scale?"  I had sort of suspected it was, but suspecting it and having it confirmed by someone who knows what he's talking about are two different things.

"A stone."  Aylwyn's tone was completely flat.  "Why would you accept a stone as payment, in lieu of gold or silver or precious... oh."

I nodded, and opened my pack, reaching in and locating the hidden pocket.  "Oh," I agreed.  "When it looks like this..." I drew out the sapphire and showed it to the two.  "That's why."

Even Aylwyn looked impressed by the sight of the enormous gemstone, and that's no mean feat, but poor Gerald!  I thought for a sec I'd have to scrape his jaw off the floor if it dropped any further.  "The dragon gave you that?" he sputtered after a moment.  "Is that what it looks like?  Gods, spirits and demons, Paul!  No wonder you've been holding tight to it!"  Then he flushed slightly at the realization of what he'd just said in front of a lady, and an angel at that!  "Err... pardon my unruly tongue, m'lady."

Aylwyn didn't seem too offended by the cursing.  "Of course," she said distractedly, then turned back to me.  "You've been carrying that this whole time, and never thought to tell anyone?"

I held up a hand.  "All right, can someone fill me in?  First off, how bad is it?  And second, Gerald, how did you even know?"

"It's kind of hard to miss!" he said, as if it should be obvious.

"Is it?  I had it with me when I was confronted by Fiona Khal, and she never noticed it, and she's an archmage just like you."

Gerald grumbled a little.  "I suppose.  I guess what I meant was, it's kind of hard for me to miss.  Sometimes I forget to consider that all wizards have different areas of interest.  One of mine is the nature of matter and energy, and when you carry something that's been altered and imbued with such a powerful essence, it's like a beacon to someone with the right training."

"Altered how?" I asked.  "Are you telling me that this is not a sapphire?"

"Oh, no," he said, "it's a sapphire.  But on an etheric level, it's something else as well."

"Which brings me back to my question: how bad is this?"

"Here, inside my tower?  Not very bad.  Because of the nature of my research, I've got some strong fundaments imbued in the stone of the tower that will dampen and minimize outside influences.  But out there, in the world?  This could be serious, Paul.  At the very least, Ryell would have overheard and spied upon everything that... well, everything.  Your meeting, your plans, your entire voyage so far!  And if she had wished, she could use the stone as an anchor to project magic upon you.  Causing a horse to stumble at an inconvenient moment, wracking one of you with overwhelming pain right as you're ambushed by roadside bandits, spoiling your food... there are any number of ways that the dragon could use this to subtly cause your quest to fail!"

Well, that's not good!  Suddenly I didn't care how valuable it was.  What I wanted was to get rid of it.  "You said it won't work in here?  Would I be able to leave it in your keeping?"  (Hey Galadriel, you mind holding on to this ring of mine for a while?)

But of course it couldn't be that simple.  His face clouded.  "If you entered the tower with the stone, and left without it, Ryell would know, and she would be quite unhappy.  If I were here alone, I would welcome the confrontation that would no doubt ensue--I could call upon the Circle for aid and we'd finally have it out with the overgrown snake, once and for all!  But I have my students to worry about now.  Even should I succeed in protecting myself and my tower, the damage to the village would be extensive, if not total."

This was starting to give me a headache, and I don't get headaches.  Then Aylwyn spoke up, and said what I was about to say, but with a much less frustrated choice of words:  "So if Paul cannot take the stone because it would endanger our quest, and he cannot leave it here because it would endanger you and yours, what is he to do with it?"

Then a thought stuck me.  "Hard to miss, eh?  Tell me, Gerald, just how obvious is it?"

He gave me a strange look.  "I already said, Paul."

"No, no, hear me out.  Aylwyn, how much advance notice did you have of Fiona's plan for this quest?"

"She told me about it soon after returning to the manor."

"So not much in the way of planning?  Is this the sort of thing she does often?"

The angel's eyes widened a little. "Are you suggesting that she did know about the stone?  That she set this entire mission up, knowing Ryell knew every detail, to distract the dragon somehow?  To feed her false information?"

I nodded as she started to get it.  "I'm suggesting it's a distinct possibility.  Gerald?  What do you think?"

He nodded grimly.  "Khal's a snake," he said.  "That's exactly the sort of game she'd play with the lives of people she considers lesser than herself--which is just about everyone.  She sees herself as Queen of her own little chess board, and she's never truly understood why the most powerful piece isn't the most important one."

Aylwyn bristled slightly, looking as if she was about to say something... then seemed to reconsider.  "Perhaps," she mused contemplatively.

"And you know what's the worst part?" I said as it dawned on me just how bad things were for me.  "I've got to do this anyway.  I didn't trust Fiona and Ken'tu Kel not to try and swindle me somehow, so I insisted on an etheric contract.  And now I'm bound by it."

Gerald nodded slowly.  "I don't think Ken'tu Kel would try to swindle you.  I don't like the man, but I've never known him to be dishonorable in that particular sense of the word."

Aylwyn looked at him curiously.  "It is well-known that you are no friend of the Archmagus.  But your reasons why--"

"--are really my own, m'lady," he cut her off.  "But if you really must know, know this much at least:  not long ago, no one had ever heard of Ken'tu Kel.  Then one day he comes out of nowhere, with more power than he should have ever been able to amass without any of the more established wizards finding out, with a ridiculous name that sounds like something straight out of some ancient saga, and a grandiose plan for getting wizards to all work together to benefit all of mankind--with himself at the head of it, of course.  Anyone who doesn't find that suspicious is not paying enough attention.  I joined up because I could see which way the current was drifting, and I'm trying to do what I can to improve things from within, but let me tell you from an insider's perspective, most of that benefit he's been promising everyone is accruing to the mages of the Circle, not to everyone else."

Woah.  He makes him out to be some sort of cross between a corrupt CEO and a sleazy charity manager skimming off the funds that are supposed to go to helping the starving children.  And that's just the part he's willing to tell when pressed, and there's more he's holding back?

Aylwyn nodded slowly.  "An interesting perspective," she says.  "I wonder what he would say about you."

Gerald chuckled.  "Call me 'a frustratingly short-sighted man too concerned with minutiae to effectively work toward larger, more important goals,' most likely."  His voice changed somewhat as he said that, as if he were quoting Ken'tu Kel's exact words from some earlier dispute.

This was getting sidetracked enough, though.  "Anyway," I said, "now that we know--or at least suspect we know--what's going on, what do we do about it?  Do you have any magical assistance you could provide, that the Twist wouldn't screw up?"

He bit his lip, thinking for a while.  "I have some things that would make good precautions--protection against harm from a sudden fall while scaling the mountain, for example--but in general?"

"No, I was thinking more along the lines of fixing the stone somehow.  You said it's been altered etherically.  Can you change it back?"

Gerald shook his head.  "It's often easier to recognize a problem than to know the solution.  It's like looking at a man and knowing, easily, that he's ill, but not having any knowledge of your Germ Theory to treat him effectively."  Did he have to keep bringing that up?  It's a bit embarrassing the way he gushed over something I'd always taken for granted.  "The power of a dragon's will is not the same as magic, at least not as I know it, and I don't know of any theory that explains how its effects can be duplicated, or undone.  Although..." he trailed off, and I could practically see the wheels turning in his head.  "The ring!"

"What ring?  My ring?"

"No, not your ring, but like it.  I can't undo the dragon's work on the sapphire, but think I could isolate and neutralize it!  You would have to be careful never to touch it, so that it wouldn't disrupt the magic, but I do believe I could do it."

Aylwyn frowned slightly. "What would that do, exactly?" she asked.  "IF you neutralize the stone, would Ryell not see the same thing you worried about before?  It came in to your tower, and then never left?

He shook his head.  "She would still be aware of it; she would simply find it very difficult, if not impossible, to use it to exert her will upon the surrounding area.  And while that would certainly be a provocation, it wouldn't a big enough of one to provoke an attack, I think.  She would simply put some other strategy into play, but we would be ahead for the moment."

"Even though we must still be doing what she knows we will be doing?"

He nodded.  "But now she would be without vital information as to how you're doing it.  Ryell's a very patient creature; being so long-lived gives her a different perspective.  She can afford to sit and wait and plan and scheme for years on end, finding the right way and the right time to put some plan into motion that will bring the greatest reward for the least risk.  If we throw a new degree of uncertainty into her plot, she's likely to back off and come at it from a different angle at some later time."

I considered it for a few moments, then looked at Aylwyn.  "Do you agree?  You know more about the dragons than I do."

She thought about it as well, then nodded slowly.  "I believe he's right."

"I hope he's right," I said.  "All right, Gerald, let's take care of this stone."

* * *

It took him several hours to prepare the magic necessary.  He let us come into his laboratory, at least the outer parts, but he made sure I was wearing my ring and kept us out of certain areas where it would be dangerous to enter--either to us, to his experiments, or both.  In between various setup tasks, I asked him, "I was wondering.  The Circle is preparing a network of magic mirrors for etheric communication."

"Yes, they are," he said.

"If I have a mirror and you have a mirror, I can speak with you.  I can see you, and you can see me."

"Of course.  Where's the question?"

"It's something Aylwyn and I thought of as we were discussing this some time ago.  Is there any way for some other person to see us, without our knowledge or consent, if they have a mirror of their own?"

He looked a bit surprised by the question.  "Eavesdropping?  On an etheric conversation?  That would be very difficult indeed!"

"But not impossible?" Aylwyn asked.

"Well, in theory," Gerald said, "not impossible.  But not the sort of thing anyone would seriously consider doing.  First, it would require that the eavesdropper had a mirror that was identical, in both physical form and the details of its enchantment, to that of one of the participants in the conversation, down to a very high degree of accuracy.  Then, on top of that, to keep his eavesdropping clandestine would require a great deal of concealment magic, which would be difficult to weave into the mirror without disrupting the existing enchantments or disturbing their quality of sameness that allows it to harmonize with the other mirror in the first place."

I nodded slowly.  "That sounds very complicated.  Are there any magi who could create such a thing?  If it existed, it would undermine the integrity of the mirror network."

"Theoretically," he said, "I could do it.  Any of the Archmagi would find it within their grasp, should we be of a mind to, but even for one of us it would take a good deal of time, weeks if not longer, during which we would require physical access to the mirror to be duplicated."

Another nod.  "Sounds to me like the best way for a hypothetical malicious wizard to craft something like that would be to be the one who prepared the original mirror in the first place."

"Do you have any reason to believe that someone is doing that?" he asked, "Or even attempting to?  Even for the Archmagi, it would be difficult, and not always successful I would imagine."

"No," I said.  "Just a thought.  But what one person can think of, so can another."

He just laughed.  "Let us hope, then, that that remains as novel as some of your other thoughts!"

Then another thought crossed my mind.  Magic mirrors.  Magi have their own lines of communication.  "Do you know anything about an Archmage by the name of April O'Neil?"

Gerald set down the tools he was working with and just looked at me blankly for a moment.  "You haven't been contracted to steal something from her, I hope!"

I shook my head.  "No.  So you know her?"

"Know her?  Paul, I'm a bit shocked that you don't!  The woman is a legend, in a very literal sense!  She's been around for hundreds of years, even though she appears to be no less human than you or I.  She's the only mage I know of with a deeper knowledge of the substance of reality and the intrinsic laws of magic than myself.  She worked closely with Ken'tu Kel to help him establish the Circle, and she's been a moderating influence and a check on his power since the beginning.  And when I began to make my research into Germ Theory public, she caught on to it before anyone, and it was largely due to her efforts that it gained acceptance in the magical community so quickly."  He looked at me very seriously.  "I owe this tower and my position as Archmagus as much to her help as to yours, Paul, if not more, and I want you to swear to me that you're doing nothing to act against her."

I held up my hands defensively.  "I swear, I bear her no ill will and I am not acting to harm her, nor do I have any intention of doing so."  That's kind of splitting hairs, but the difference between "against" and "harm" was significant, and by refusing to help with her plan to get home, I was technically acting against her interests.  But Gerald didn't need to know about that!  "I was simply curious.  I recently heard of her, and I was a bit surprised that such a powerful wizard had escaped my attention for so long.  So I thought you might be able to tell me a little bit about her."

Aylwyn looked at me sternly.  "You are being evasive again," she pronounced.

I nodded slowly.  "I'll admit it.  There is more to the story, but that's because it's not my story to tell.  What I can say without breaking confidences is, I received a request from her some time ago, that I pay her a visit.  I don't know exactly why, though, and I'd prefer not to walk blindly into a situation like that.  Is she a person I can trust to not try to harm me?"

"Well," said Gerald, "she did not live as long as she has by being foolish or imprudent.  I would not be surprised if she were wary, even if she did want to meet you, and took certain precautions.  But in general she is an honorable person, and that counts for a great deal."

"That's good to hear," I said, "and your recommendation counts for a great deal."

The conversation moved on from that point, and wound down soon after, since we had to concentrate on a few details.  It was almost like old times, working on a project with Gerald.  Aylwyn seemed content to stay out of our way and observe, occasionally commenting on something, and after a while we had things ready.  It wasn't very flashy or exciting to watch, but even wearing the ring I felt something tingle when he cast the spell.  I noticed Aylwyn shivering a little as well.  Being too close to strong magic being cast is not a particularly pleasant situation if you're at all sensitive to it.

When it was over, he wiped some sweat from his face and held up the stone.  He'd wrapped some extremely fine copper wire around it in an intricate pattern, interlaced with itself almost like a somewhat irregular fishing net, and used that to anchor the seal.  "This should hold for a few months at least," he said, handing it back to me.  "It's not a long-term solution; that stone is still dangerous, and you'll need a way to dispose of it properly eventually.  But it should be enough for now.  I'll be thinking about what we can do with it, if you come back by here on your way back from Anduin."

I nodded, then clapped him on the shoulder and squeezed affectionately.  "Thank you," I said.  "I'll keep that in mind."

* * *

We stayed that night and the next as Gerald's guests.  It gave both us and the horses a well-needed break from the constant travel.  I did end up giving an impromptu lecture to his Healing Arts students.  I couldn't think of too much to say on the subject that they wouldn't already know, so I introduced myself as Paul Cameron, who had been doing research with Mr. Wolf when we stumbled onto the principles involved, and gave a brief overview of the research we had done, sharing some anecdotes from that time.  Then, out of content, I employed one of the most effective time-filling techniques known to man for this scenario: make the audience provide the content.  "Any questions?"

A lot of them were well beyond me, and I had to explain that I hadn't remained active in this field of research.  A few students, though, had some questions I had actual useful answers to, drawing on long-buried memories of things I'd read in books or online back home.  One of the most interesting was a question about the limits of Germ Theory, as there were whole classes of diseases to which the principles seemed to be completely inapplicable.  I asked the student to elaborate, and it quickly became apparent that she was stumbling around in the dark but feeling her way gradually towards the concept of the virus.  I couldn't say too much to be helpful without ending up wildly out of character, so I provided a few suggestions of things to look into that she might not have thought of, and hoped they'd lead her to something useful.

But alas, all good things must come to an end, and the next day, at Aylwyn's insistance, we had to continue on our journey.  We'd be heading more northward than eastward from this point, up into the mountains.  I thought about taking a few of Gerald's anti-falling spells with me, but between the problems that the Twist would cause for it, and the fact that it wasn't exactly an anti-falling spell, but a spell to slow down the moment of impact so it doesn't hurt so much, (he'd essentially invented a magical crumple zone,) and that wouldn't help too much if I fell on a mountain slope and ended up sliding and tumbling downward, we both agreed it wouldn't be as useful as he'd hoped.

He did, however, make sure that we were well-stocked with food and provisions before seeing us off.  So, refreshed and rested, and yet a bit sad to have to say goodbye to my friend again so that I could walk off into what was almost certainly a trap of some kind, I saddled up and rode off with Aylwyn, on towards the lair of the dead dragon.

14: Dragon Mount

Chapter 14
Dragon Mount

Things slowly got better over the next few days. It's not like Aylwyn suddenly went from being all aloof and icy towards me to the friendly, slightly flirtatious version of her I still remembered so fondly from when we first met... but things slowly got better. We actually talked about stuff, for one, which helped a lot.

Having a common enemy helped, I think. I mentioned to her that Fiona Khal had said to me that Aylwyn was already in on the plan, that she saw doing this as "an act of repentance" after her blunder in letting me get away at the manor. She looked at me indignantly and said she had never said any such thing to her, and in fact did not know anything of the mission until after Khal returned from hunting me down. If she had, the angel claimed, she would have gone along with Fiona on the hunt to find me in the first place. And I believed her! Maybe it was just that she was there to present and defend her side and Fiona wasn't; maybe I was a fool and wanted to believe what she said because she was a hot woman being nice to me... or maybe she was telling the truth. Either way, I believed her.

I asked her why she had intervened and let me get away in the first place. Wasn't being a paladin supposed to be about upholding the law? She responded that it was important to be lawful, but more important still to be good. With the timing of my appearance at the manor, I could really only have been after one thing, and if I was leaving, she had judged it highly unlikely that they would have been able to recover it, and she did not see that it would accomplish any good purpose to subject me to punishment over having been made an unwitting pawn of a greater dragon.

That part, I didn't quite buy as easily. Even if every word of it was true, there were plenty of other things I'd done that were worth locking me up for, according to a worldview like that. And the obvious answer--that she'd done it out of gratitude for me rescuing her--didn't quite fit either, since she hadn't actually been all that grateful when I rescued her! But since, at the moment, we had a sort of a good thing going, getting along decently for the first time since our trip started, I didn't really want to mess that up by calling her on it. I figured I could always come back to it once our relationship (such as it was) had had some time to get a little bit stronger.

One thing she was strangely reluctant to talk about, though, was home. Purely out of innocent curiosity, I asked what the Celestial Realm was like, and she just clammed up. Said it was a place beyond the ken of mortals, and that was that. When I tried to push a little, she said that no one knew much about where I was from, either, and I told takes of my childhood from time to time, but they were all lies, and she did not wish to do that. That unnerved me enough that I dropped the subject. Kinda bugged me, though, that she could figure that out.  As a child of the freaking Information Age, stuck in a place like this, I was supposed to be one of the most knowledgeable people in the world! So how was it that people were always going around knowing so much more than me about important stuff?!?

But overall, things were getting better. A few days after our stopover at Gerald's tower, we crossed over into Anduin. Having an angel around really came in handy; the guards at the border took one look at her and waved us through. The roads weren't as nice in Anduin; as much as I'd worked to promote the free flow of knowledge in my Anthony Stark persona, the Kingdom had tried to keep our road-paving techniques within its own borders, realizing that effective, rapid transportation had significant military benefits. Not that we were at war with Anduin or anything, but there are some things some people find too valuable to share, even with friends. Knowledge had gotten out eventually, of course, but they'd been slow to implement it, so a lot of the roads around here were paved in cobblestones instead, when they weren't just hard-packed earth, which made going slower.

We'd been heading generally northeast so far, but once we got across the border we took a more northerly turn, towards the Ele mountains. I didn't know exactly where we were going, but Aylwyn said we were close. We got attacked by bandits once... sort of. Five guys rode up to us on horses, fanned out to surround us, and drew blades and horse bows. Right as they were about to demand whatever it is they were going to demand of us, Aylwyn held out her hand and a brilliant sword of flames and celestial light coalesced into it. The bandits looked at each other very nervously, then put away their weapons, bid us good afternoon about as politely as they could while trembling like that, and rode off in the opposite direction that we were heading.

We stayed at a village not too far from the base of the mountain we were headed to, and purchased a horse-drawn cart, which took a fair amount of what I had left of the expense allowance Fiona had provided. Hopefully I'd be able to resell it once we were done and recoup most of that. Of course, the real problem was that, once we continued on, it didn't take too long for the terrain to become essentially impassable to horses. The mountain loomed before us, and neither of us really wanted to leave the horses and the cart behind right at the moment. So I suggested that Aylwyn would fly up the mountain and scout ahead.

Wow. You should have seen the look on her face.

She turned the most withering glare on me I'd seen in quite a while. "Is that your plan?" she asked, each word practically dripping with anger.

I shrank back a step. "Umm... I kind of thought it was a good plan," I said. "Apparently not? Am I missing something?" Then a thought occurred to me. "Wait. What exactly did you think I was planning for, Aylwyn? Did Fiona tell you something specific?"

She looked at me with suspicion, as if carefully deciding what to tell me. Finally, after a minute or so of thought, she took a deep breath and said, "she asked me to escort you to the lair of the dragon, where you would circumvent whatever magic it had left behind to guard its dwelling-place and retrieve the dragon skull, and that I should be on my guard, that you would doubtless seek for some way to swindle me, escape, and steal the dragon's skull for yourself."

I bit my lip, nodding slowly. "All right. Still not seeing it. What does having you scout on ahead, while we don't have the skull yet, have to do with that?"

She glowered at me again for a few moments, but then her face softened. "You... truly don't know, do you?"

I shook my head slowly. "Know what?" I asked.

She made a little growly noise low in her throat. "If you are deceiving me, Paul Twister..."

I held up my hands defensively. "Whatever this Very Important Thing is, I swear to you I can't see whatever it is you're thinking of."

She looked at me, then nodded just a little. For the first time since I'd seen her in Robert de Long's dungeon, she actually looked a little bit vulnerable. "Asking me to fly up that high... it would weaken me greatly."

I cocked my head to the side. "Really?"

"You truly didn't know?"

I shook my head. "I... sort of thought you were this big, tough angel who's all stronger than any human, and... you know... built to fly?" I gestured rather obviously at the large, white wings covering most of her back.

She nodded. "I am," she said. "In the Celestial Realm. The air is somewhat thicker there, and ambient magical energy is much higher."

"So you need spells to fly?" Not that that really surprised me, but it's always better to pretend you know a little less than you actually do, rather than pretending you know more.

She bit her lip. "Not spells, exactly. There are very few Celestials with arcane talents of any sort. It is more like... breathing. You breathe in air that exists all around you, and it gives your limbs strength. I take in magic that exists all around, and it gives strength to certain less physical parts of my being. It allows me to work as I have with the horses, to soothe and strengthen and care for them. It allows me to heal injuries by guiding a body to follow its own pattern more exactly. And it allows me to fly. But here, there is so little of it that my wings are all but useless." She sighed and looked down. "There are times, living among humankind, when I wish that I could be rid of them, at least for a time. They get in the way and make me clumsy here."

I couldn't believe she'd just said that. Both that she could say something like that, to me of all people, and that she would think that in the first place. "Clumsy? You're kidding, right? You have to be the most graceful person I've ever met."

A hint of a smile tugged at the corners of her lips. "You think that because you only know other humans as a basis for comparison. As I said before, the Celestial Realm is beyond the ken of mortals. There, what I am here would be as graceless as an infant first learning to walk."

"You can't be serious."

She actually stopped and thought about it for a few moments. "I... almost am," she said. "It is somewhat of an exaggeration, but not a particularly great one."

"Well, I'm glad, at least, that you can't get rid of them. They're very pretty." The words just tumbled out. It was nowhere near the worst thing I'd almost said to her over the last few weeks--to the point where I was beginning to suspect her of using some sort of speak-the-truth power to troll me with--but it was the first time the thought had actually made it past my internal censors and out my mouth.

"...what?" She looked almost as shocked that I had said that as I was!

Hoo boy. This is not good. I couldn't really take it back, or pretend I'd said something else, and I didn't have any time to come up with a convincing lie. All I had to go with was the truth of what I had just said. So all I could really do was try and pull a Westen Gambit: double down on the horribly wrong thing that just came out and make the other person believe it obviously makes perfect sense. "Are you really surprised?" I asked. "You can't have lived around here long without understanding that you're considered quite beautiful by local standards. I just happen to find the wings pretty, as well as the more human-like parts of you." I shrugged my shoulders a little, trying to be as nonchalant as possible about the whole thing. (No matter what angle I looked at it from, there was just no way that actually confessing to an angel about your consuming lust for her was going to end well.) "I doubt I'm the only one, really. They're very pretty!"

That actually seemed to put a little bit of fire back into her. "Be that as it may," she said, standing straight, "they are not decorations."

"So... wait," I said, trying to move on. "If you're no good at flying, how are we supposed to get up the mountain? Fiona told me that it's essentially impassable, except from the air, which is why nobody has been here yet, and that I would need your help to ascend. You could fly up, find stable spots, and lower me a rope, or something like that."

Her eyes flashed angrily. "You swear you are not making any of this up?"

I nodded solemnly. "If I am lying, may my eyes never see your beautiful wings again!" I smirked and wiggled my eyebrows at her, and it actually cracked her stony face a little.

She laughed a little, but it was a somewhat bitter sound. "And if you are not, much worse upon her."

"So, you were worried that I wanted... what? To have you fly up there and end up all weakened, and then climb up myself and somehow sneak past you?"

The angel shook her head. "I was worried that you would take advantage of my weakened state to betray me. Attack somehow, rid yourself of your captor, take the treasure for yourself."

This from the woman who managed to scare off five armed bandits without saying a word.

"You seriously think I could...? Wow. You seriously do think I could, don't you? Flying would weaken you that much?"

"You would have a chance, at least," she said slowly. "And where there is a chance for you to accomplish something, you study and plan and come up with a way more often than not.  And you have had plenty of time to study and plan by now."

"Heh. Aylwyn, I think you might have overestimated me as much as I overestimated you. I'm only human. I could probably ambush you in your sleep and you'd still end up taking me apart!" I shrugged a little. "Either way, I don't want you gone. I just want you to... be a bit nicer to me, you know? Especially if your reasons for acting all cold like you have been sometimes is based on lies Fiona Khal told you. And even if I didn't want you around, I'd still need you. There's no way I'm getting any dragon treasure back down the mountain without help, not to mention the open invitation for trouble a cart full would be. If you're not around to chase bandits away, there's no way it ends well for me. My best trick to win a fight is not to get in one in the first place." I paused, then gave a wry chuckle. "Not to mention I've got the distinct impression that if I did anything to harm you, Wyntaf would somehow know and would end up kicking my face in when I got back down here."

That earned me several long moments of consideration, and then a slow nod. "Yes, it's quite possible she would. Very well, so, how will we proceed?"

I thought about it, looking up and down the mountain. "As much as you may not like it, I think what Fiona said to me about the trail being impassable was true. Look there," I pointed, "and there. I'm a decent climber, but there's no way I'm getting up that without a rope, and that means I need someone above to place the ropes. And those are just the parts I can see easily."

She looked, thought about it for some time, then sighed and nodded agreement. "You're right," she said. "And I don't like it. It will take a few days simply to make our way up, because I'll need to rest much more than usual."

I nodded slowly. "Well, I want to get this done and over with as much as you do. We'll want to stay light if we're climbing up, but we'll still need to bring food and water, basic gear, and bedrolls if not a full tent." I took the reins of my horses, then looked over at her. "And then there's the horses. We have to go back to town. There's no way to make it up there and back and leave them here. Even if we left them with enough food for five days, they wouldn't know to ration it over five days of time. And we couldn't tie them to a tree or they wouldn't be able to move around enough to find food and water, but if we let them walk free, they'd run away before we came back."

She sighed and nodded agreement. "I could dismiss Wyntaf, return her to the Celestial Realm until I called again, but even so your horses would need to be cared for. We should leave the cart here, though."

I agreed, and we mounted up again and started the ride back to town. This was going to be tougher than I'd thought! "All right," I said. "I'll do what I can to help, then. Once we get past each tough spot, I'll make camp, prepare some food, take care of the basics, you know? Give you some time to relax and rest." I paused, then decided to tease her a little. "Maybe massage away any soreness in your muscles."

I was kind of expecting some sparks from that--I'll admit I'm not above trolling someone a little once we get on good terms--but to my surprise, she just smiled softly. "That might be nice," she said.

Wow. So either she's teasing me back, or she's just a bit daunted by the task ahead and too weary to snark or snap at me... or things are really looking up. I wasn't sure which it was, but I supposed I'd find out soon enough.

15: On Angel Wings

Chapter 15
On Angel Wings

Flying turned out not to be as big a deal as Aylwyn had worried it would be.  Yes, it was difficult.  Yes, physics were completely against her and she had to burn a lot of magical energy to compensate.  Yes, it left her worn out each time.  But there was one thing she forgot to consider at first:  just like with the larger birds, the most difficult part was getting off the ground.  And we were climbing up a mountain, which meant she could actually get airborne the same way large birds do it.  The funny thing is, I'm the one who's studied physics, but I never even thought of the logical solution.  It just sort of came to her in a flash of inspiration after we'd been looking up at the first sheer cliff blocking our progress, wondering for a good six or seven minutes if we could really make it up.  Then she looked out across where we'd already come from, said she had an idea, and dropped her pack, letting it slide down her arms and off, onto the stone.

I'll admit, it was a bit gut-wrenching to watch her take a running leap off the edge of a cliff the first time she did it.  She sailed out into open space, and then plummeted like... well, like someone who just took a running leap off the edge of a cliff.  And my heart plummeted as well.  I figured she'd gone nuts, and she was done for.  But then she spread those beautiful wings out wide, and her body began to shine with the light of her power being used, and she pulled up and began to fly, and it was one of the most majestic things I've ever seen in my life.

Then she turned and flew towards me, and the broad, radiant, purely gleeful smile on her face... I had a new favorite memory.

By the third time she flew by, I was able to overcome my distraction enough to get my head back in the game.  I tossed her the end of a long coil of rope, and she beat her wings for more altitude, making her way to a ledge almost thirty feet up.  But the rope we'd brought along was more than was long enough.  I took off my pack, carrying our supplies, and tied the other end of the rope to it and to Aylwyn's pack, which had the tent and bedrolls.  Then I lashed the climbing rope to a makeshift harness we'd improvised for me out of some smaller ropes.  Not anything that would be up to code back home, and it would probably hurt a lot if I suddenly fell, but it would at least arrest my progress if I used it right, and that's what matters.

We'd tied good, thick knots in the rope at five-foot intervals, and I had two rope loops to connect the harness to the climbing rope.  From each knot, with my feet atop it, I could reach the next one up without difficulty.  I would tie the free rope above the knot, check to make sure it was secure, and then untie the one below and climb up.  Kind of slow going, but as good a way as we could come up with to ensure my safety.

Aylwyn had secured her end of the rope to a heavy rock, but was still holding on to it near the edge of the cliff.  Neither of us were taking any chances here.  At first, she'd suggested pulling to help me along, but I vetoed that.  I was used to climbing at my own speed, and having the frame of reference I was lashed to move independently of my actions would probably distract me.  Plus, even if she was usually strong enough to do it, I didn't want her to wear herself out any more than the flying already would.  So she just stood there, feet braced against the stone, holding the rope as still as she could while I climbed up the rock wall.

It turned out to be a lot less daunting than I'd thought.  By the time I got to the top, I was sweating hard but not breathing too heavily.  I pulled myself over and up onto the ledge, then untied the rope from my harness and helped Aylwyn pull it up, with the pack attached to the far end.  It was hard work, but it felt good.  We'd accomplished something difficult.  We'd worked together, effectively.

We'd worn her out.  She suddenly sighed and sank down to one knee.  I turned towards her--would have taken a step towards her if she hadn't been right next to me already--but she held up a hand.  "I'm all right," the angel said.  "I just need to rest.  That was exhilarating... but wearying."

I grinned at her.  "Exhilarating.  Yeah.  I think that's the first time I've ever seen you actually look happy like that, you know?  You really were made to fly."

She took a deep breath, and reached up to wipe some sweat from her brow.  "I was," she said.

"But don't ever scare me like that again.  If you'd said you were about to get airborne by jumping from a high place, I'd have understood.  But when you just run and take a leap like that... I didn't have time to think.  I just instinctively thought you were going to crash and break every--"

"I won't," she said calmly, cutting me off, but gently.  "Next time, I'll let you know before I do something risky."  A few deep breaths, then,  "If there is time to, of course."

"All right," I said.  "How long do you think you'll need?"

"Just give me a few minutes.  And some meat."  I rooted around in the pack and handed her some dried beef to get her strength back up.  Then, on a whim, I pulled out a small, flat square covered in wax and handed it to her as well.

"Cheese?" she asked, raising an eyebrow at me.

I grinned and shook my head. "Have a look."

The angel used her nails to peel the protective wax coating off, and her eyes widened slightly when she saw the rich brown color of the substance beneath.  "You, Paul Twister, are a scoundrel, seeking to tempt me with the pleasures of the flesh."  But she bit into it anyway, and her eyes closed as she savored the rare delicacy.  It was another first: the first time I'd ever seen her actually enjoying food.  "Where did you find chocolate?" she asked, a bit incrdulously.

"In Gerald's pantry," I replied.  And then, to forestall any objections, I quickly held up a hand.  "And I paid him good money for it, too.  This stuff isn't rare where I come from, and I really miss it.  It's been about ten years since I've had any.  I thought I'd pick some up, to celebrate once we got the skull."  Then I grinned and shrugged.  "Then, just now, I figured I had a better use for some of it."

She shook her head slowly. "I believe that's the first true thing you've ever said about your home."

I grinned at her, peeling the wax from a square of my own.  "That part's harmless.  It won't get me in trouble if people know chocolate was my favorite food as a kid."  I took a bite, and... oof.  This stuff was not much like my favorite food as a kid; they still had a lot to learn here about the finer points of chocomancy!  Chocolate here was very rare, very dark, and more than a little bitter, only made palatable by mixing a good deal of honey or molasses-sugar into it during production.  Still, it was chocolate, and therefore awesome, even if there was room for improvement.  "So, is it working?"

She loked at me, a bit confused. "Is what working?"

"The whole 'tempting you with the pleasures of the flesh' thing.  It sure looked like you were enjoying that..."  I smirked and wiggled my eyebrows at her teasingly.

The angel scowled, rolled her eyes, and slowly got to her feet.  "Let's keep moving."  There was still a bit of mirth in her eyes, but overall the stoic paladin was back now.  Ah well.  Happy-Aylwyn was fun while she lasted.

* * *

We made good time to the second rope point, and this time I was ready when Aylwyn jumped off the cliff.  I tossed her the rope on her first flyby, and she flew with it up to the next ledge.  This climb wasn't as long as the last one--a bit more than twenty feet--but it was just as tiring because I was still a little bit worn out from the last one.  And Aylwyn definitely needed to rest afterwards.  The sun was just beginning to head lower in the sky, and we probably had a good three hours of daylight left, but I started looking around for a plateau or a cave large enough to pitch the tent, because we just wouldn't make any substantial amount of progress after that.  I didn't find much in the way of caves nearby, but it was only a few minutes before I found an area with a wide open surface, enough to pitch the tent on safely.

I'd have really preferred a cave, simply because caves offer much better protection if it starts to rain.  As everyone who's ever been camping in western Washington knows, waterproof tents... aren't.  And they hadn't gotten around to inventing waterproofing chemicals around here anyway.  Luckily, there weren't too many clouds in the sky at the moment, but that wasn't any sort of guarantee for the rest of the night.

It didn't rain, but it was hard to get to sleep that night.  Probably had something to do with the gorgeous woman laying nearby, literally close enough to touch.  Not that I ever seriously entertained the idea; I knew that would be an incredibly dumb thing to do.  Playful flirtation was harmless enough, but actually making a pass at her, something serious?  No way that would end well.  But it was the first time on this journey that we'd slept without a wall in between us.  The night was quiet enough that I could hear her breathing, and it was driving me nuts.  And it's not like I could go outside and walk around for a while to cool down.  Without flashlights, that would be downright suicidal.

So I lay there, eyes shut tight, trying to sleep, trying to think of anything but her, her hair, her smile, her wings, her... well, the rest of her, the way she shone when she was flying, the things I wanted to do to her, things I wanted her to do to me, the soft sound of her breathing in the darkness as she lay there, unaware of my inner turmoil, and so on.  You can probably tell just how successful I was.  Stupid teenage body! Stupid raging hormones!  (And trying to sleep on hard stone, with only a bedroll as padding, didn't help either.)  Sleep eventually claimed me at some point, but the next morning arrived way too soon.

I groaned as I started to return to conciousness, feeling soreness in my back and neck, and weariness in my head.  "Unnngh," I moaned incoherently.  The sun was up, at least far enough that I could tell it was up from inside the tent.

Aylwyn was awake already, doing what looked like some sort of warm-up exercises in the limited space she had to move in.  "Difficulty sleeping?" she asked sympathetically.  I nodded, and she looked over at me.  "I suppose you are not used to sleeping on hard stone."

Yeah.  The hard stone kept me awake.  Sure, let's go with that.  "And you are?" I asked.  As near as I could tell, she'd spent the last few weeks sleeping on reasonably comfortable beds, just like me.

"I've been trained to deal with discomfort," she said.

"Sure," I said, grumbling a little.  "That, and you can probably use magic to help out.  Not to mention having some extra soft padding on your back that I don't."

She looked slightly horrified by what I'd said.  "You think I sleep laying on my wings, using them as padding?"

"...did I just say something wrong again?"

The angel laughed softly.  "You did," she said, but apparently she was starting to get more used to my ignorant missteps.  "They are actually fairly sensitive, and the bones inside are much more fragile than the rest of my skeleton.  Crushing them between the weight of my body and hard, unyielding stone would be quite painful.  I generally sleep face-down, unlike what I have heard is normal for most humans."

I let out a soft, slow whistle.  "I'm a bit surprised you trust me enough to admit that," I said, only half-teasing.

She shrugged.  "Better that than having to put up with more of your horribly ignorant questions."

Ouch.  I needed some sort of comeback, so I just blurted out, "Well, forgive my imprudent questions, but I must know.  If laying on your back is so painful, how do two Celestials--"

"In flight," she said matter-of-factly, cutting me off before I could finish the question.  "In midair."  But from the twinkle in her eye and the subtly smirky curve of her lips, I couldn't tell if she was serious or putting me on.

It probably wouldn't be a good idea to push the question any further, though.  Time to change the subject.  "So can you show me some of those exercises you're doing?  I... correct me if I'm wrong again, but I assume they're some sort of warm-ups, to limber up and get you ready for physical exertion?  I could really use something like that.  Especially my back."

She nodded slowly.  "You are right, moreso than most.  If you were anyone else, I could use my power to ease your discomfort more directly."

"Like the horses?"

"Yes.  But as I have reason to doubt that it would work at all for you--and as I would prefer not to end up with green wings--something more fundamental will have to suffice.  Your bone and muscle structure is similar enough to my own that I believe I could show you some things that will help."

She wanted to take down the tent first, and then we spent the next half hour practicing stuff, mostly stretches of various kinds.  My back was definitely feeling better by the time it was all done.  We took a quick breakfast of trail rations, and then she helped me into my harness again and it was time to move on.  Hopefully we'd be able to reach the cave by evening.

* * *

There were three more rope points that I had to scale with the aid of her flight.  I know it took a lot out of her, but for whatever reason, she was pushing herself a little harder than usual on the way up.  We made it to the cave just as the sky was starting to color as the sun made its way down, and I could immediately tell it was the cave, and not just a cave; just stepping up to the mouth of it made my skin tingle.

Sundown was probably not the best time to go into a lair like this, but the cave mouth was facing almost due south, so it's not like there was any point where it would have an exceptional amount of illumination anyway.  "I'm going to need light to see by," I told Aylwyn.

I figured she would just light up like she occasionally did, but instead she held her hands over her head, and a ball of light, a little bit larger than a fist, faded into existence.  With a flick of her wrist, she sent it slowly drifting into the cave tunnel, illuminating the open area fairly well.  It seemed to be a fairly straight tunnel, more or less round, about fifteen feet in diameter.  The floor was unnaturally smooth, almost polished, which made sense if a dragon had used this as its way in and out for several years.  I didn't get too good of a look, though; the ball only got about ten yards in before something on the wall glowed a deep blue and the ball of light shattered into a million tiny firefly-sized specks, which quickly faded.

I looked over at Aylwyn.  "All right, I guess that's why I'm along.  Can you light that spot up again?  And get your sword, just in case?"

She rolled her eyes a little at the request and called up another ball of light, but didn't seem to think the flaming sword would be necessary.  Oh well.  As long as she could get it ready fast enough in case something jumped out of the shadows at us, I'd be willing to defer to her judgment and experience in the matter.  In the meantime, I had some magic to break.

The dragon's wards yielded easily enough to the Twist.  I laid my hand on the cave wall at about the right place, then ran my fingers along the stone until I felt something squirming beneath them.  Not that anything was physically moving in the stone; it just sort of felt like that.  There was magic there, and it squirmed and wiggled when my entropic touch started eating away at it, and then snapped and began to evaporate after several long seconds.

"All right, this one's down.  Depending on how it's set up, it may or may not regenerate over time.  So we'll need to be careful on the way back out, but for now we should be safe."

I found and disabled five more, progressively stronger wards as we slowly made our way down the tunnel.  Aylwyn never did need to get her sword out, but I'm sure glad she was along, and not just for the illumination.  The tunnel turned sharply after the fifth bend, and began to widen considerably.  And as I turned to follow it, the rays of light from Aylwyn's ball glittered and shimmered back at me from something just up ahead.  Gold.  Silver.  Gemstones.  And, laying atop the whole thing, a massive bestial skeleton made of some sort of translucent violet-colored crystal.  It was a breathtakingly beautiful sight, and I stepped forward a bit more quickly than was prudent.

Aylwyn suddenly reached out and grabbed me rather firmly by my shoulder, jerking me back.  "Ow!  What is it?" I asked, wincing and rubbing my shoulder a little.

"Look up," she said.

I did, and swallowed hard.  I'd spent so much time looking at walls and the floor, where the dragon had placed its seals, that I'd almost missed what was almost certainly the workmanship of Ryell, since it appeared to have only one purpose: killing somebody who walked in here with the Twist.

There, suspended high in the air all over the roof of the cave, were dozens of large boulders and thousands of smaller stones.  "They're being held up by magic, aren't then?" I asked.

She nodded.  "A moment."  She sat down on the ground and closed her eyes, taking what appeared to be a meditative pose, and stayed like that for a couple minutes before slowly getting back to her feet.  "The entire room is filled with an intricate, delicately-balanced latticework of levitation spells.  It would take very little disruption to cause the entire thing to crumble.  Perhaps as much as would be caused by you walking over to the skeleton."

"Thus placing me in right the middle of the room when the rocks start to fall, and everyone dies.  Got it.  So, can you head in there safely then?"

"I could," she said slowly, "but I would be levitated by the magic, and unable to reach the dragon's hoard."

"And the same would probably happen to me, if I tried to use my ring.  So... only I can get in there, but if I do, I bring the whole thing down around our heads.  That's actually quite clever."

Quite clever, and without any obvious solution.  I hate when that happens!

16: What Goes Up

Chapter 16
What Goes Up

We spent a couple hours fruitlessly banging our heads against the problem (metaphorcally speaking, of course) without much success, and in the end decided to just sleep on it.  We headed back out to near the mouth of the cave, and I found that none of the wards had regenerated themselves yet.  That didn't prove that they wouldn't overnight, though.

We pitched the tent, and I noticed that Aylwyn did indeed lay down face-down.  I hadn't realized that the night before.  It was another long night for me, about the same as the night before, and I got about the same amount of sleep as before, which is to say not nearly enough.

The next morning I felt even worse than the last one.  I awoke feeling sore, weary... and grungy.  It had been two days here on this mountain, with no opportunity to bathe.  Yuck.  And yet, I felt kind of excited.  "Aylwyn," I murmured quietly, because I couldn't see if she was awake yet or not.

"Hmmm?"

"I think I know how to deal with the rocks."

"Again?" she asked wearily, rolling onto her side to face me in the dim light of morning.  I noticed she had one hand against the ground, angling herself a little to keep her weight off her wing when she lay like that.

"No, I think this one will actually work."  I got out of the tent and started looking around, just outside the mouth of the cave.

The paladin followed, looking at me curiously.  "Are you searching for something?"

"Pebbles," I said, reaching down to collect a few.  "Here, help me gather some."

She gave me a quizzical look, but crouched down and picked up a few of her own.  "Why do we need pebbles?"

"To test my theory.  You see, all of those large rocks are floating high in the air... but the treasure isn't."

"You think that the spell is such that small things will not float?" she asked, catching on.  I nodded.  "But what about the dragon bones?"

"The theory's not perfect," I shrugged.  "Maybe the spell has an exception for them, or something.  But I think that in general, small things--or lightweight things--aren't affected by the levitation spells.  But before we act on my idea, we should probably test it."

She laughed softly.  "By throwing pebbles into the chamber and seeing if they rise."

"Exactly."

We gathered up a few handfuls, then headed back down the tunnel, carefully testing for wards again at my insistence.  There had been five before, and we found the first four active again, which is what I'd been worried about.

I deactivated each of them, and we headed deeper, watching carefully to try and find where the fifth one was.  It had been very close to the opening to the treasure chamber, but the further we went, the more frustrated we became.  We couldn't locate it, and it had looked like something particularly deadly if triggered.

Finally, I threw up my hands in frustration as the tunnel began to widen.  "Ryell is toying with us," I said.

"You think the fifth ward is gone?"

I nodded slowly.  "As a child, I attended an academy for youngsters.  They called it the High School, because it was set upon a hill."  OK, I was embellishing a little, but it made for a better story.  "One day, a handful of youths decided to play a practical joke.  They brought three full-grown swine into the main building and released them in the hallway, letting them run wild.  They had taken ink and drawn on the sides of the pigs the numbers 1, 3, and 4.  It took the staff of the High School about two hours to round the three up and get them out... but then they spent most of the rest of the day frantically searching for the one numbered 2 before realizing that was all part of the joke."

"A rather cruel joke to play," she said with a frown.

I nodded.  "Cruel, but effective when what you want is to distract someone and waste their time."  And it did get us to waste our time: even suspecting that the trap wasn't there didn't mean it was safe to not watch out for it.  But eventually we made it to the treasure chamber, and proceeded to test my theory.  We tossed in pebbles one at a time, or in groups.  We tossed them low and hurled them high up at the roof of the cave.  But no matter what we did, every last one of them came falling back down to the ground.

Aylwyn looked over at me.  "It seems your theory holds true.  So what do we do with it?"

"Well, if an ordinary person walked in there, they'd be levitated up into the air and be helpless.  They'd be stuck up there, and probably starve to death.  If I walked in, all the rocks would fall down around me.  But if you walked in there... you'd be levitated, and be able to move around while up in the air."

She nodded. "True..."

"And we know that large rocks float, and small rocks fall.  So the real question remaining is, do you have any way of turning large rocks into small ones?  Such as perhaps using a flaming sword to chop them apart, or even make them explode?"  I was going out on a limb here a little.  I had no idea what her angel-sword could or could not do.  For all I knew, trying to strike a rock with it would cause it to go CLANG and bounce off in a flash of sparks, just like a normal sword.  But I was betting that all the flashiness wasn't just for show.

Unfortunately, she looked at me like I'd just grown a second head or something.  "That was your plan?  I use my sword to make the rocks... explode?"

"That won't work?" I asked.  "What about just cutting them apart?"

"That might actually work," she said, "but it would take days."  Well, at least I wasn't completely wrong about what her sword could do.  "However..." She looked up.  "Here, we don't float.  The spells only begin several feet into the chamber."  She looked up again, considering.  "Stand back."

I took a few steps back, hoping she wasn't about to do something dangerous again!

The angel stepped forward, into the latticework of levitation spells that she had assured me was there.  She gasped softly and raised her arms as she began to float up off the floor, spreading her wings to help her balance.  The spell pushed her up until she was about ready to bump her head against a large boulder, but she put her hands up over her head and pushed herself away just enough that she was able to move around to the side of it.  Then she placed her hands on the side of the rock, flexed her wings, and pushed.

It took a few wing-beats, but the stone reached the edge of the magic and came crashing down to the ground.  I was glad I'd stepped back, because it rolled over towards me before settling against the wall of the chamber.

"Wow," I said, grinning up at her.  "That's actually pretty impressive."

"It will take me some time to clear enough of these away that you can safely demolish the magic." she said.  "And the ones I bring down will almost certainly block the tunnel.  I suggest you go back to the tent to wait.  When I'm done, I'll cut a path through... with my sword."  There was a hint of a mocking inflection in her tone for that last bit.

I shook my head.  "I'll stay safely back, but I'm not going so far back that you'd be trapped if one of the wards becomes active again in the meantime."  I took my pack off and got out some trail rations and a waterskin for her.  "Here, take these."

"Thank you."  She spread her wings and moved off the edge of the magic lattice, drifting back down to the ground next to me to reclaim the provisions.  After looking up, then back at me, she sighed.  "This is likely to take a few hours."

I nodded and went down the tunnel a ways, sitting against the wall and just resting, since there really wasn't much I could do to contribute for the moment.  Almost made me wish I'd brought along a book to read.

A few hours of mostly-boredom-punctuated-by-the-occasional-crashing-rock later, I heard a new sound coming from the now-blocked tunnel, a hissing sound, almost like water being thrown on hot metal, but with a harsher, shrill edge to it.  After a few minutes of the harsh sounds, a line of flame burned through the boulders blocking the tunnel, slowly slicing down through the big, heavy rock until the thing cracked and split in half.

It took a bit more cutting before Aylwyn was able to walk through.  She opened her hand and the sword just sort of... burned out I guess is the best way to describe it.  Like a lighter when you let go of the button.  She was a bit of a mess, all sweaty everywhere, with her robe stained with stone dust in several spots, her long hair all messy and wild.  She was still breathing heavily after all the exertion.

She looked incredibly hot, even more so than usual.  I saw her, and I suddenly wanted nothing more than to walk over there, push her up against the nearest wall, and--

I was on my feet and moving before I realized what a horrible idea that would be.  So I turned just a little so I'd end up standing beside her instead of running straight into her and pretended like nothing had happened.  I looked over her work, with rocks strewn all over the ground in the entranceway.  I could climb over them easily enough to get in, but getting back out carrying heavy stuff... that would be trickier.  I looked up and saw that the ceiling was basically clear of floating rocks, towards our end at least.  It would still make a big mess when it all came down, but it should be safe to trigger the trap now.

Aylwyn seemed to be thinking the same thing.  "Walk to the treasure," she said. "Don't bother looking up, but be alert.  I'll be looking up, and when I say run, you immediately turn and run back here."

That was a bit nerve-wracking, but I did it, walking slowly, breathing deeply, every muscle on high alert.  There wouldn't even be an ominous rumbling or anything; just Aylwyn's word that I had to turn and run.  Even with most of the rocks cleared away from directly overhead, falling rocks could still bounce and roll and pose a great deal of hazard to me, and so here I was, betting my life that my reflexes, and hers, would be quick en--

"Run!"

I turned and sprinted.

Rocks crashed behind me.

The floor shook.

My foot came down on some loose pebbles, and I flailed my arms wildly, then began to fall, face-first, right towards a big rock.

Strong arms caught me, pulled me up onto my feet again, and I found myself quite unexpectedly pressed up against Aylwyn.  Honestly, I'm a bit surprised I didn't bowl her over. She's bigger and heavier than me, but not by all that much, and I was moving pretty fast.  But instead I came to a pretty quick stop and got the wind knocked out of me a little, and didn't bash my head in on a big, hard stone.

After a few seconds of gasping and panting, I stepped back, a little bit embarrassed.  "Thanks," I whispered breathlessly.

She kept a firm grip on my arm until she saw I was steady, then let me go and nodded.  "Of course."  Then I turned and looked at the chamber.  There were big boulders strewn all over, and the treasure and the dragon's bones had been scattered--but somehow, none of them looked to actually be broken.

I looked back at Aylwyn.  "We're going to have to move these, aren't we?"  Those rocks weren't a lethal hazard anymore, but they were still in the way.

She nodded. "Let's get to work."

17: Bones and Scales

Chapter 17
Bones and Scales

"Where are the dragon's scales?" Aylwyn asked.

We stood at the edge of the stone ledge outside the cave, each holding one end of the dragon's skull, preparing to heave the heavy crystalline skull over.  We figured that would be the simplest way of getting it back down the mountain, since the material seemed incredibly sturdy and resistant to breakage, or even chipping, by smacking against stone.  From what I had heard, it was possible to break dragon bones, but it required the application of magic in addition to physical force.

I looked over at her and set down my side of the skull.  "You're right.  Something about this has been bugging me the whole time, and I think that's what it is.  The whole thing's a bit too convenient.  We're looking for dragon bones, and we find them, but no scales.  We're looking for magical protections, and we find them, but nothing that the two of us can't overcome with a minimum of effort."

The more I thought about it, the worse it got.  "That rock trap is clear evidence that someone has been active here, when Fiona assured us that no one, mortal or dragon, would be able to reach this cave safely."  I looked down at the sparkling crystalline skull, shimmering more in the daylight than it had under Aylwyn's summoned ball of light.  "Are dragon bones even supposed to be a purplish translucent color?"

She nodded, surprisingly.  "No, this is consistent with dragon bones.  They are strong, clear crystal, but can contain tints of almost any hue."

Interesting.  "Even so.  I think we've got pretty solid evidence of third-party involvement here.  If I had to guess, I'd say it was another dragon, possibly Ryell.  She wouldn't need to use my sapphire if she already had an attuned object in the lair somewhere."

Aylwyn bit her lip. "You believe this was all an elaborate deception?"

I shook my head.  "Not all of it.  A philosopher once wrote, 'the closer to the truth, the better the lie.'  I think it's something more like the pigs.  1, 3, 4.  Use a little bit of truth to hide the elaborate deception.  Distract your victims, confuse them, misdirect them."  I gave her my best roguish grin.  "It works well.  Trust me."

She sighed.  "I suppose you would be an expert on such things."

I had a hunch that I figured I ought to follow up on.  "You know that thing you did, to examine the magic in the treasure chamber?  Can you do that here?"

"Search for magic here?" she asked.  "On this ledge?"

"On the skull, specifically."

She nodded and sat down, closing her eyes.  It didn't take her long to reach a conclusion, though.  She opened them again almost immediately.  "There is a strengthening spell anchored just inside the left eye socket."

I hmmmed and stuck my fingers inside, feeling around until I felt the tingle of magic and the Twist tearing it apart.  I was half-expecting the whole thing to crumble to dust, but once the magic was gone, there were no other visible effects.  So I looked around and located a good-sized rock, about the size of my head, and handed it to Aylwyn.  "OK, you're stronger than me.  Hit the skull with this, as hard as you can."

She raised the stone over her head with both hands, then brought it crashing down, and the dragon skull shattered.  I crouched down and looked at the jagged fragments, then laughed.  "Rose quartz, it looks like, altered somehow to be more transparent, and strengthened with magic."

"Which, as I'm sure you could easily point out as well, does not necessarily mean that the rest of the bones are also quartz."

So we checked, and they were.  There was also a massive illusion covering the treasure hoard.  Once I dispelled it, we found that all of the gold and silver was actually a slightly harder, silvery metal.  Aylwyn looked at some of it closely, then gasped.  "I think this is... aluminum!" she said in surprise.  "But that is far more rare and valuable than gold or silver.  Why would the dragon disguise it so?"

OK, that really creeped me out, because the obvious answer implied that Ryell knew way more than she really should.  I groaned softly at the revelation.  "Leave it," I said.  "The dragon is playing a joke, and I'm the only one for the next few decades who is likely to understand why it's funny."

She gave me a very strange look.  "If you know about a process to make aluminum less rare..."

"Less rare?"  It was hard not to laugh at that.  "Aylwyn, the stuff's about as rare as sand; it's just extraordinarily difficult to extract from its ores, even with the assistance of alchemy.  I know about a few hints of a process to make smelting it easier, but it's currently infeasible and the subject of ongoing research.  To say anything more on the subject would violate some exceptionally important confidences, so please don't press me.  Just... trust me; this 'treasure' is a decoy.  It's the dragon mocking us, mocking me.  'Look, see this thing which you thought was of great value, and then in truth, it's not.'  It works on multiple levels."

Her eyes widened slightly.  "Gerald Wolf was right.  You are much more than the simple thief you pass yourself off as."

I smirked.  "I must be doing a good job at it, though, if you're just now figuring that out..."

She scowled.  "So why can the dragon know about this great secret research, but I cannot?"

I raised my hands in front of me, palms open, as if to ward off a verbal attack.  "The dragon shouldn't know either, and the fact that she does really worries me.  But right now we have more immediate concerns."

She nodded.  "Such as, is the real dragon's lair higher, or lower?"

"Or deeper." I said.  "Did you get a look at the back of the chamber?"  It was pretty well blocked off by fallen boulders now.

She shook her head.  "No, but you're right.  We should check."

We had to climb over a few rocks and cut a few others apart, but in the end we did find a narrow tunnel leading deeper in.  The floor was worn smooth, just like the entrance, and it sloped gradually upwards.  We checked carefully for magic wards and other traps as we went, but we didn't find anything before arriving at a second chamber.  There was no treasure here; only what appeared to be a dead dragon, its metallic scales giving a dull, coppery reflection in the light of Aylwyn's illumination ball.  Several of the scales sat around loose on the floor, but most of them still hung together over the dragon's skeleton.

Aylwyn examined the thing before us and pronounced it free of magical influences.  I ran my hands along as much of it as I could easily reach, just to be sure.  But this one seemed to finally be the real deal.

"Well, it looks like we've got the real dragon here, not another kandra.  So let's get this one out of here."

She looked at me strangely in the dim light. "What is a 'kandra'?"

I waved my hand.  "A tale I heard once about a creature with very strange bones, that appeared to be something else.  Nevermind."

She rolled her eyes.  "If you say so."  She called up her sword again.  "Let's get the skull."  She began to carefully use the flaming blade to cut apart the scales a few feet down the beast's neck, not taking any chances that she might damage the dragon skull.

Suddenly the entire chamber began to shake, and a horrible noise filled the cavern.  If it was possible for a trumpet to snarl like an angry tiger, it would sound something like that.  The dead dragon began to glow with an eerie purple light.

"Get back!" Aylwyn said in a sharp, commanding tone, and I wasn't about to argue.  I turned and dashed for the tunnel.  When I turned back to look, Aylwyn was shining so brightly I had to hold my hand in front of my eyes, and the dead dragon was standing in front of her, its coat of scales draped loosely over its bones, with no flesh beneath to fill it out.

It gave another of its jarring, brassy roars, and I saw Aylwyn's hair blowing back wildly.  How that was possible when the thing had no lungs left was beyond me, but it did.  She stood her ground, though, holding her sword up in front of her in a defensive pose, one foot slightly back with her weight on her back leg.

It reared back and swiped at her with an immense arm, its sharp, curved crystalline claws flashing at her.  Aylwyn simply stepped back, already in motion, and twisted her sword to the side.  It clashed against the dragon's crystal claws with a loud, ringing whine, like someone was rubbing a wet finger along the rim of some enormous wineglass.

It didn't cut through, though.  The two pressed against each other, the dragon's strength versus the angel's, each trying to push the other back, for a few long, intense seconds.  Then the dragon swiped at her with its other arm.  But again, Aylwyn seemed to anticipate the attack, and she gracefully disengaged, stepping back and sidestepping, apparently trying to get the dragon to overextend itself.  She struck at the arm from behind, producing more ringing but no useful effects that I could see.

The dragon turned to the side--being dead didn't seem to make it any less agile--and opened its mouth, trying to snap at her, but again she sidestepped, apparently trying to head for its tail.

"Can I help?" I asked in a loud voice.  "Is this magic? Necromancy?"

"Stay back!" was the only response I got.  Aylwyn dropped her sword, letting it vanish, and sprinted down the monster's body.  It had to be at least twenty feet long, but it turns out she wasn't going for the tail.  About halfway down, her legs flexed and she leapt up into the air, reaching up and grabbing on to the main bone of the dragon's skeletal wing, swinging up and vaulting onto its back.  It roared and flicked its tail up at her like a whip, but suddenly her sword was back and she turned halfway around, holding it out and beating the tail-slap back.

She dropped her flaming sword again and crawled forward, perched atop the dragon's back, up to its neck.  Then she laid both her hands on it and began to shine so intensely that I had to look away.  I heard a loud clattering, and the light suddenly went out.  "Oofh!"  Aylwyn gasped as if she'd had the wind knocked out of her.

I turned back to see her laying atop a mess of dragon bones and scales, with nothing holding them together anymore, on the floor of the cave.  She was panting for breath as I slowly walked over to her.  "Banish the spirit of the dead," she said between deep breaths, "and the body it animates will fall inert."

"Wow!" I said, holding out a hand for her.  "That has got to be the most amazing thing I have ever seen."  She took my hand and I helped her back to her feet, but just as she was rising in front of me, I couldn't help it.  I grabbed her head and pulled it against mine, kissing her hungrily on the mouth.

Aylwyn... endured it, for a few brief seconds, then gently placed her hands on my shoulders and stepped back.  "Please," she whispered softly, "do not act on your feelings; you will only regret it when we are done here."

It was like someone had thrown cold water on me.  "What?"

"The dragon's influence is strong here," she said patiently, taking another step back.  "It is attempting to tug at our emotions, to sow discord and disharmony between us, ever since we began to climb the mountain."

I blinked.  She thought Ryell was making me all hot for her?  Wait... "Our emotions?  As in, you're feeling this too?"

She shook her head. "No, for me it attempts to inflame a different base passion, anger.  I have been feeling inordinately frustrated and annoyed by every little mistake and imperfection on your part over the last two days."

I looked at her in surprise.  "You certainly haven't shown it!"  If anything, she'd been nicer than ever to me lately.

Apparently that was the entire point.  "Yes, I've gone out of my way not to.  Once we are away from this mountain, once my emotions are my own, I will trust them again, but for now... you would be wise not to either."

Well, no, I was pretty sure I'd been wanting to do that since long before we arrived here, but hey, if she's going to give me an easy way out like that, I'd be a fool not to take it!  "All right," I said.  "I'm sorry.  I'll... try to be more on my guard in the future."

She nodded, seemingly satisfied by that.  "Then I will try to not act on my own feelings in response to what you did," she said with a playful smirk.  That made me shiver a little as I considered the implications of it.  Had all of her friendly, almost flirtatious playfulness over the last few days been an act?  A deliberate overreaction against the dragon trying to get her all angry and make her end up... what?  Smiting me or something?  (Not that I wasn't already a bit smitten, but that's different.)

We searched around a little and found the real dragon's hoard in a side chamber.  It was surprisingly small, actually, when it came to the expected mountains of gold and silver; if we weren't already focused on draconic remains, we could probably have loaded the entire stock of precious metal and gems into our single horse-drawn cart.  The truly interesting part, though, was the artifacts.  Along the back wall of the cave were several unique items, each one masterfully crafted, each unique, and each beautiful in its own way.  Weapons and armor, works of sculpture, wands, staffs and magical devices, a few things that I didn't even know what they were supposed to be, and a few musical instruments, as fine as anything I'd ever seen in my time at the Bards' College.  Any of them could easily be worth hundreds of delin, and there were a few dozen artifacts, all told.

I saw a lute next to a beautiful harp with what appeared to be gold leaf inlaid over its carved frame.  "I don't suppose you play the harp?" I asked.

She looked at me quizzically. "No. Why would I?"

I shrugged. No point in explaining the imagery.  "I play the lute."

"Then bring it along.  I am no judge of such things, but it looks like a fine lute."

"Yeah, I think I will.  What about you?  Is there anything here that interests you?"

She slowly walked along the display of items.  "I already have the only weapon I need, and these suits of armor are all made for people without wings.  The magical implements would be of value to the Circle, but much less so to me personally.  But this..."  She crouched down and picked up a wooden box, about two feet long, one foot deep and a few inches high.  It was made of some rich brown-colored wood, and intricately carved all over with amazingly detailed reliefs of all kinds, from people and animals to trees, leaves and fruits, to abstract symbols to several inches of something strongly resembling Celtic knotwork.  When she picked it up, I heard something sliding around inside, hitting the inner wall with a muffled sound that seemed to indicate that whatever was inside was fairly soft.  "This is fascinating."

"What is it?" I asked as I looked the box over.  "And... how does this open?  I don't see any seams..."

She nodded. "That's the point of the box.  It is a puzzle.  There's some way to use the carvings, to manipulate them, to cause the box to open itself.  It would be interesting to try and find the way.  For example," She pressed her finger against one of the carved fruit, and it sank in slightly.  "This first part is clearly loose.  What the second step is, I don't know."

"Well, whatever it is, it must be worthwhile if the dragon had it in the company of all the rest of this stuff!"  The angel seemed to agree.

We spent the rest of the day hauling things out to the mouth of the cave and figuring out how to transport it down the mountain.  We took several of the larger dragon bones, and they could just be dumped down the cliff, but smaller things like dragon scales, and more fragile items like the artifacts we picked, would have to be transported with a bit more care so they wouldn't be lost or broken.  It was a bit of a tricky balancing act, deciding what to take and what to leave, because the one thing we were both sure of is that we didn't want to make a second trip back up the mountain.  Unfortunately, we didn't find much in the way of boxes, packs, or other containers in the dragon's hoard, which meant that in the end, what we brought down with us was sharply limited.

There was a case for the lute, and I packed as many gemstones as I could into a small compartment on the inside of it, but I couldn't put much of anything loose in the main area without worrying about ending up damaging the lute itself.  We left the weapons and armor behind because they were big and bulky, but Aylwyn gathered up as many of the magical implements as she could easily carry, and we started on down.

Coming down is always easier than going up, even if you have to be careful to make your way down at a controlled speed, and using her wings to glide down turned out to be much less taxing on Aylwyn's strength than flying upwards, so we were back to the ground by sundown.  We gathered up our loot and loaded it into the cart we'd left behind, then both decided we needed to wash off.  There was a mountain stream not far away, and I let her go first, staying back at the cart as she cleaned a few days of sweat and grime off, then I went down into the water and did the same.  It felt a lot better when I came back up out of the water and put on a clean change of clothes.

We spent one more night in the tent, and I was able to distract myself from obsessing over Aylwyn by playing with the lute a little.  It took some work to get it tuned to something that didn't sound horribly out of key, and for a while I just ran my fingers over the strings.  It had been some time since I'd played, but it came back to me easily enough.

"Do you have any song you wish to play?" Aylwyn asked, similarly absorbed in the intricacies of her puzzle box.

I thought about it for a while, until an old melody came into my head, a song I grew up with.  It had been one of my mother's favorites, and I'd never truly understood it as a child, but it was beginning to make more sense as I got older.  I didn't know if I'd be able to do it justice, but it seemed to fit.  "I think I will, if I can manage it.  This might be a little bit beyond my skill level, but I enjoy a challenge sometimes."

I grinned at her in the dim light as I started experimentally picking out notes, trying to find the right point to start.  It was originally supposed to be played on a piano accompanied by a guitar, but they hadn't gotten around to inventing pianos (or even harpsichords) yet, so I'd just have to make do with a smaller set of strings.  "This is a song sung one of the greatest master bards of my homeland," I said as I finally found the right notes and started to reproduce the haunting combination of rhythm and melody, the rise and fall that had always suggested to my mind the imagery of a wheel turning.  "It's a song of love, loss, and the wisdom that time can bring."

She nodded slowly, looking at my fingers as I called forth the notes of the introduction.  Then I reached the verse, and began to sing. 

Looking back
on the memory of
the dance we shared
beneath the stars above...

Aylwyn waited in silence as I played and sang, watching and listening.  I got some of the notes wrong, but I didn't butcher it too badly at least, and the best part of performing something the audience isn't familiar with is that they don't know when you've made a mistake.

Once it was done, she smiled softly at me.  "That is a beautiful song," she murmured.  "Sad, but lovely, and there is much wisdom in it."  She paused a moment, then asked, "where do you come from, Paul Twister, where chocolate is plentiful, aluminum does not impress you, bards compose works in such an unfamiliar style, and well-educated youths are cast out to become thieves in distant lands?"

I just shook my head and packed the lute away in its case.  "If I told you the tale, you wouldn't believe me," I said.  "But maybe, someday, I will anyway."  I yawned, then lay down, and surprisingly enough I was out almost immediately.

The next morning Aylwyn was able to summon Wyntaf back from the Celestial Realm.  The enormous, powerful horse didn't seem to have any objection to pulling a cart, and we made our way back to town to retrieve my horses.  With a bit of our newfound wealth, I purchased a draft horse to haul the cart the rest of the way, and then we were off to the southeast, to finally make our way to the end of this journey.

We had done it.  We'd beaten the dragon's traps and tricks, retrieved the loot, and gotten away from the mountain safely.  We both hoped that the worst was behind us, and that all we'd have to do now was drop our bounty off with Ken'tu Kel and we'd be done.

Turns out we were both horribly wrong...

18: The Cat's Parents

Chapter 18
The Cat's Parents

The next few days were fairly uneventful. I'd purchased a few heavy sheets of canvas to cover the cart with, so no one could easily tell that we were hauling treasure and not something boring like vegetables or timber. As we made our way into Anduin, we started to see patrols of knights more frequently, and we didn't get harassed by bandits. My biggest fear was actually the inns where we stayed each night. We had to leave the cart outside, where curious eyes and hands could get up to all sorts of mischief. And trying to hire someone to guard it would only draw attention to the fact that it contained things we didn't want to see stolen.

After a bit of thought, Aylwyn resolved the issue as best she could, by arranging with the stable-keepers each night to leave Wyntaf hitched to the cart. But she actually arranged it so the horse only looked like she was securely tied to it; in reality, she could easily get free and kick the crap out of anyone prowling around in the back. It wasn't a perfect arrangement, but it worked well enough.

Having separate inn rooms to sleep in again really helped. Contrary to what she'd though, I didn't find myself wanting her any less when we got away from the mountain, but not having the temptation right there made it a lot easier to deal with.

We were about four days on past the mountain when our course took us through the moderately large city of Tary. This is where Patrick Hill had told me that April lived, so I convinced Aylwyn that a short detour would be worthwhile. She agreed much more willingly this time than she had when I wanted to visit Gerald, as she was curious about the long-lived archmage who wielded such influence in the highest levels of the Circle.

Of course, having Aylwyn around would make it a bit awkward to discuss things about home with April. It took a bit of doing, but after a while I managed to convince her that, because I had been invited to speak with April whereas Aylwyn had no actual business with the sorceress, it would be better for me to approach her alone, see what she wanted, and then secure an invitation for my companion to meet her as well. She was suspicious at first, wondering what my motive for wanting to go off and hold shadowy meetings without her was. And the truth is, that's exactly what I was trying to do, so I told her the truth.

"Yes, Aylwyn, you got me. I'm trying to get out from under your watchful eye so I can go meet one of the highest and most trusted members of the Circle, who has invited me to come conspire with her on the subject of performing nefarious works of magic and mischief." When I said that, she scowled at me, but couldn't seem to come up with an objection that didn't sound utterly ridiculous, so eventually she backed down. She would stay behind, caring for the horses and ensuring that we were well-stocked with provisions for the remainder of the trip, while I went to meet the Archmage.

Not that things are ever that simple. It took me almost two hours to find my way to the manor. I had to keep stopping and asking for directions, because the city's streets were all twisty and turny and not laid out according to any sort of logical plan, much less a proper grid. But eventually I found it, a small estate on the edge of town, near the river but well upriver from the warehouse district. There were guards present, so I walked up to the gate doing my best impression of a messenger.

"Good day, sir. Is this O'Neil Manor?"

"It is," the guard I'd addressed nodded.

"I bear an important message for the lady of the house, and it's vital that I deliver it to her."

He frowned slightly. "I'm sorry, young man, but--"

"Sorry?" I puffed out my chest indignantly and began to unleash a torrent of self-important verbal abuse upon the poor man, in my best Sam the American Eagle voice. "This is a vital matter, I tell you, sir! Why, if you cannot let me pass on my recognizance alone, seek her out. Tell her that this is a most urgent message for her eyes only, a message from her close friends Mr. Washington, Mr. Lincoln and Mr. Kennedy. Give her those three names, and she will have you send me in, if she does not come out to greet me herself, sir!"

Unfortunately, he had the most effective anti-social engineering defense of all on his side: reality. "Again, I'm quite sorry, but the Archmagus is not in today. She is away on Circle business."

Bah. Stupid important people, never being around when I'm looking for them! "...oh. Well, what a bother that is. Do you know where I might find her?"

He shook his head. "I do not. She should return in two weeks, though."

There was no way Aylwyn would be willing to delay that long. On the other hand, we were about a week away from Declan, which meant that catching her on the return trip might easily be feasible. I'd need to make sure she would stick around, though, and that meant leaving a reminder that I could be sure would get through. The guards would most likely lose a message that I tried to leave in their care for that long, though. "Hmm... in that case, I don't suppose you would know where I could find Patrick Hill?" It was a bit of a long shot, but if he was around I could probably count on him for this much at least.

To my surprise, the guard nodded. "Mr. Hill should return shortly, if you wish to speak with him."

Wait, what? Return? As in, he lives here? Wow; so he wasn't just a friend of April's; apparently she was his patron as well. Which meant that the excuse he gave me that first night we met about seeking patronage from the lord of another city was almost certainly bunk. What had he been doing, then, apart from looking for an opportunity to speak to me in private? I'd have to ask him when I saw him, then.

"Very well, sir. Thank you. I can wait, if he won't be long," I said, trying not to show too much surprise.

The guard nodded and invited me into the courtyard, where I could rest in the shade of one of several pine trees growing outside the house; he simply asked me to keep to someplace visible, and I nodded. A basic matter of professional courtesy.

I hadn't been waiting long before something interesting happened. Unfortunately, it wasn't Hill returning; it was a girl screaming from inside the manor house. Whatever had happened must have been powerful magic; it made my skin tingle all over, even well outside the building. The guards turned, looking alert, and I got to my feet quickly. Every instinct said "trouble".

Then trouble came running out of the house, as fast as two legs could carry her.

She looked to be about my own age--my apparent age, that is, in her late teens--and she was clearly terrified. But the first thing I noticed wasn't her facial expression. It was her tail.

People with feline features did exist in the world, though there weren't too many of them around. I'd only met a couple in my time here. They had some name for themselves that was apparently quite difficult to pronounce, so most people just called them cat-folk, or occasionally "werecats", though I'd heard that the latter term was considered offensive. Cat-folk walked on two feet, but they were covered in soft fur, had long tails, and had heads that more closely resembled a cat's head than a human's.

The girl before me looked nothing like one of them. If anything, she looked like a catgirl, like someone who had just stepped out of some obnoxious Japanese cartoon or something. She had a tail, and fuzzy, triangular ears sticking out of the top of her head, but she otherwise looked completely human. And completely terrified, looking around in a panic, her tail darting back and forth.

The guard seemed to know her. "Sarah?" he asked, looking concerned. "What happened?"

Seeing a friendly face, she dashed over and pounced him, clinging tight to him as she trembled and cried into the poor man's shoulder. I couldn't make out everything she was saying, but apparently the gist of it was that she had just been minding her own business and then suddenly she found herself transformed and taking on these feline features.

Poor girl. She must have stumbled over something in the manor, some magic that April or somebody had left carelessly lying around--or, possibly, magic that she had placed deliberately to guard something from nosy servant girls?

The guard clearly had no idea how to handle the frantic girl, so I walked over slowly. "That sounds like a curse," I said. "Something happened, and you ended up transformed."

She looked at me, growling slightly in the back of her throat. "Who are you?" she asked, eyes narrowing a little.

I took a step back, trying to look all non-threatening. "A friend," I said soothingly. "I've come to deliver a message... but I think I might be able to help you." I was close enough now to see that under all the freaking out and the panic and the tears, she was actually quite pretty, and that made me want to help her even more.

"What do you think you can do?" she asked curiously, starting to calm down a little. It's always surprising how much social power you can gain in a moment of crisis, simply by keeping calm and making like you know what you're doing.

"I have some abilities in that area," I said. "If you could give me your hand?"

The guard looked at me suspiciously, but the girl--Sarah, apparently--held out a hand to me. I clasped her hand in mine, and immediately felt the magic tingling all over her. So I let the Twist do its work.

That was when things really went wrong.

It felt right at first. I felt the magic Twisting under my touch. But then I felt something I'd never experienced before: resistance. It was almost as if something caught hold of the Twist, and Twisted back. And suddenly I cried out in pain, letting go of her hand and falling to the ground as my head started to feel as if it were about to split open!

Somewhere, some part of me understood that this pain didn't last long, but it felt like an eternity. And when it was over, Sarah was staring down at me in shock as I started to recover. I looked up at her, blinking tears of agony out of my eyes. "I'm all right," I said. But then I realized I wasn't. When I'd said that, my own voice sounded subtly wrong to me. I raised my hands to my head, and was horrified to find that my ears were gone, replaced by cat-ears atop my head, just like she had!

Feeling dread creep over me, I reached back behind me, hoping all I'd feel where my butt was supposed to be would be my butt... nope. I had a tail too, sticking up out of my trousers. The curse had somehow spread to me. I glanced down at my chest briefly, and was relieved to see that I was still a guy, at least.

The guard looked completely freaked out, as if the thing might somehow be contagious, and he quickly took several steps back. Sarah looked like she was about to cry again, when the guard turned and looked down the road, beckoning frantically. "Master Hill! Come quickly!"

Sarah perked up a little when she heard that, actually looking hopeful. She turned and ran to the gate. "Daddy! Help me!" she screamed.

If nothing else had freaked me out so far, that would have. Hearing those three little words ignited a primal fear somewhere deep in my gut. It's just a simple fact of life: there is just no way that being caught with a girl, by her father, while she's screaming for help, is going to end well for you! But then the rest of my thought processes caught up, and I realized who it was she was saying that to, and started putting two and two together, and the fear turned to anger. Between that and the magic and a handful of other things, the only explanation that made sense was that he had told me an enormous lie.

"Sarah! What happened to you?" the bard asked as he came into view, enfolding the terrified catgirl in a protective hug. Then he turned and saw me. "And who is th--" his eyes widened with recognition. "Clark Kent?"

Phew. At least he had the presence of mind to not call me Paul Twister!

I nodded to him. "I've come to see the Lady of the manor, to deliver an important message," I said, sticking to the cover story for appearance's sake, hoping he'd pick up on it and follow along. "Some accident has befallen this girl, and I attempted to use a bit of magic I know to dispel the curse, but it seems to have rebounded upon me." I gave a sheepish little half-smile.

"You know this messenger, Master Hill?" the guard asked.

He nodded. "We've met," he said. Turning to me, he hugged his daughter against his chest protectively. "Come, let's head inside and talk."

I followed him, moving slowly and deliberately since the tail seemed to have a mind of its own, swishing back and forth and playing all sorts of nasty tricks on my balance. I sure hoped that this would wear off soon!

As soon as we were inside, and I'd looked around and ensured that there was no one around, watching, I looked Hill in the eyes. "Who is the mother?" I hissed. (Woah. Why was I hissing when I got angry?)

He looked back at me, nodding. "...my wife."

"The Lady of the manor? The archmage?" I asked in the most accusatory tone I could come up with. He didn't even bother denying anything. "You lied to me!"

Sarah snarled at me. "Leave my father alone," she hissed, her back arching forward just a little.

Hill just hugged her gently, and with forced calmness, he said "I think we all need to sit down, and get properly introduced."

I took a deep breath, then nodded, and he led me to an open room with several couches seated around the edges. He sat in one, with Sarah leaning against him and nuzzling at him a little--I wondered if she normally did that, or if the transformation was bringing out feline behavioral quirks in her--and I sat nearby, where I could look at them easily. I had to turn to the side a little when I sat down, to give my tail some room.

"All right, I should start, as the host. I am Richard Hill, Master Bard, second-grade initiate of the Circle of Magi, and husband of the lady of this manor, April O'Neil. And this is our daughter Sarah." He looked down at her and smiled gently. "Sarah, this is an acquaintance of mine... Paul Twister."

Her eyes widened at that. "The real Paul Twister? From the ballad?" She looked over at me and grinned broadly, then cleared her throat.

Oh I'll sing you the tale of a daring young lad
of his great misadventures, the good and the bad!
Learn his tricks and his follies, if you'll but give eeeeear...
to the Lay of Paul Twister! Come, gather round here!

From behind his daughter's head, Richard rolled his eyes and cast me an apologetic look, laying a hand on her shoulder and squeezing gently. "Yes, that's really him, but I'm sure he's heard the song before," he sighed.

She purred and smiled over at me. "So that's why you thought you could help with the curse," she said, looking all excited. "You tried to use the Twist on it! But... why did it curse you too, then?"

"Why indeed?" I asked. "That is truly a perplexing question."

She turned to look at Patrick. "Why does he say you lied to him about Mom?" she asked.

"He's mistaken," the bard said smugly.

I hissed at him again. "You said that you were--oh. No, you just let me think that, didn't you?" That was supposed to be my trick! Argh!

"Think what?" Sarah asked, puzzled.

Hill smirked at me a little. "That I was but a stricken admirer of your mother's, loving her from afar, that she never knew the depths of my devotion... silly, romantic nonsense. It always surprises me the conclusions some people will jump to when given just a little bit of knowledge."

I nodded, glowering at him. "Indeed."

Sarah giggled at that. "So you tricked Paul Twister? Like the dragon in the ballad?" she said, grinning at her father mischievously.

He looked back at her and nodded, returning the grin, an almost identical expression. She definitely got it from him! "I suppose I did! So, what were you doing when this happened to you?"

"Nothing, Daddy!" she protested. "Practicing the harp, nothing more, and then suddenly a great pulse of magic came upon me, and my head felt as if it were splitting apart!"

I looked at Hill. "She came running outside, hysterical and terrified. I tried to calm her down, and thought I might be able to use the Twist to remove the curse from her, but something went very wrong. I felt the magic Twisting back at me somehow." I paused, chewing on my lip momentarily. "Have you ever heard of anyone else who has an ability like mine, who could have placed a curse such as this on your daughter?"

He shook his head. "As far as I know, your... gift... is entirely unique."

I scowled. "Well then, there's something going on that you don't know about, and neither do I." Then I gasped and grabbed my head as the splitting pain started again, bringing tears to my eyes and making me double over. But it was over much more quickly than the first time, and when it faded, my ears were back where they should be, and the tail was gone. "Unngh," I groaned. "That was not as bad the second time, but it still hurt..."

Sarah looked over at me, then pouted a little. "Why am I not changing back?"

"I wish I knew, Kitten," Hill said.

hiss "Don't call me that, not now! It's like you're saying I'm stuck this way!"

His face reddened as he realized that what he'd said--probably an ordinary, affectionate nickname for his daughter--suddenly held much harsher overtones. "I'm sorry." He looked over to me again. "So Paul, what brings you here today? I wasn't expecting to see you so soon."

"It's a long story," I said, not really wanting to get into it.  I surreptitiously slipped my hand into my pocket, sliding my ring back on now.  Best to keep the Twist inactive, in a place like this, now that the effect had worn off.  "I was passing through on my way to Declan, and I thought I'd stop by and visit April."

"Declan?" He grinned. "Well, not that I'd expect you to want to walk directly into a lion's den, so to speak, but she's visiting Ken'tu Kel to work out certain issues of interest to the Circle. His tower isn't far from there; if you really wanted to speak with her..."

I pretended like I hadn't already known about him. "Thanks, I'll keep that in mind. But can I ask a simple favor?"

He nodded slowly. "What is it?"

"If she returns and she hasn't spoken with me yet, I'll come by here on my way back. Ask her not to go anywhere until I come back around? I don't anticipate this will take too long."

"I think I could do that," he nodded, smiling amicably at me.

"In that case, I should probably take my leave," I said, getting up. "I still have some errands to run before I head on."

He nodded. "May your journey see you safely to its end." He stood as well, and crossed to me, clasping hands with me.

Sarah stood behind him. She took my hand once her father stepped away, flashing me a shy little smile. "Be well, and come back soon, Paul Twister," she purred softly.

I smiled back. "If I can." And then I headed out. I was really glad that the curse had worn off of me so quickly, I mused as I went back to meet up with Aylwyn at the inn. Having to tell her how she wouldn't be able to speak with April afterall was bad enough, but it would have been amazingly awkward to try to explain my transformation to her!

19: Not A Bard

Chapter 19
Not A Bard

They'd been paving major highways in Anduin with cement over the last few years, and it was getting noticeably better as we got closer to the capital. Between that and Aylwyn's knack for getting more endurance out of the horses, we made it to Declan in five days.

I was really getting to like that lute I'd picked up from the dragon's hoard. I didn't know how long it had been sitting around in that cave, but the strings were still in very good shape, and the tone was just beautiful. At the inns we'd stay at each night, I'd introduce myself as Peter Parker of the Bards' College, (I explained to Aylwyn that that was a stage name) and ask the innkeeper's leave to play. That earned me a free dinner each night, and free rooms a couple times depending on the innkeeper's mood. Not that I particularly needed the money now, but spending lavishly when you have money--especially if it's some sort of windfall--is a great way to end up not having money anymore. And besides, performing for an audience is fun!

I tried to get Aylwyn to sing with me a few times. At first she demurred, saying that the music of her people would likely not be well-received in the noisy, unfrefined environment of a tavern hall. But the third night, I pushed a little. We had a good-sized crowd, and I'd been taking requests for over an hour. My voice was worn out, but they were calling for more. So I called Aylwyn over to the hearth. Her eyes widened a little and she squirmed at the request. "I don't think..." she began, but I cut her off.

"Who wants to hear a song of the angels?" I'd already gotten the audience worked up and in a good mood with a bunch of up-tempo, highly entertaining songs, so when I made a suggestion like that, they cheered. "They say an angel's voice can put the greatest bards to shame!" More cheers, and some of the patrons started calling out for her to sing. They got louder when people saw her squirming, clearly a bit uncomfortable from all the attention. It's basic psychology; works every time.

Finally, after it became clear that the calls for her to sing weren't going to die down quickly, she got up from her seat and slowly walked over towards me, glowering at me for putting her on the spot like that. I just grinned and waved my hand around the room, still working the crowd. "There! We have a very special guest tonight, a genuine Celestial Paladin if you can believe it, and a good friend of mine. I asked her a few days ago if she wanted to sing, and she said she wasn't sure you fine folks would enjoy the songs of her people. I say, let them be the judge of that!" They cheered as Aylwyn came over and stood beside me. "So, my friends, without further ado I present the lovely, the magnificent... Aylwyn!"

Her cheeks were burning and she shot me a "you're so going to regret this later" look. I just grinned at her. "Any specific needs for accompaniment?" I asked quietly while the patrons were still cheering.

She gave me perhaps the darkest look I've ever seen from her. "Try and keep up," she challenged me under her breath.

I'm not sure quite what I was expecting, but what she came up with was a strong, soulful anthem, an inspirational tune about Terelon, a legendary angelic hero who overcame great tragedy and personal loss to end up rising to prominence and eventually founding the order of Celestial Paladins. It ran for eight verses, building momentum with each one, and after the third I stopped even trying to play along to it. I don't think anyone noticed. The song ended strong, on a high note that she held for a good forty seconds, long enough to bring everyone in the room to a cheering ovation. Her singing was awe-inspiring, amazing, and a little bit overwhelming.

"Wowwwww," I murmured, low enough that only she could hear. After all her reluctance, pulling out a masterpiece like that with no preparation was worthy of a little teasing at least. "If you'd held that note one more measure, I'd have had no choice but to kiss you again, and without any dragon to blame it on this time!"

She just scoffed and rolled her eyes at me, but I could see she was enjoying the response. The patrons called out for another one, but she begged off, saying she'd had a long journey and she was weary and needed to rest. She headed to her room, and I took up my lute again, singing a few more songs, but after Aylwyn left the momentum was really gone, and things were just winding down. It was less than half an hour before I went off to my own room and drifted off to sleep.

* * *

I was a bit worried that Aylwyn would be mad at me the next morning, but the strong response to her singing had apparently done a lot to improve her mood.

"Where did you learn that song?" I asked once we were out on the road again. "I mean, that was magnificent! You have to have had some sort of training."

She laughed. "That? That is simple oral history. A song taught to children, a primer on culture. I chose it because it was it was easy to sing, but also because it was a tale that always inspired me, that drove me, from a young age, to become a Paladin."

I scoffed and shook my head. "No no no, you're not fooling me with a line like that, Aylwyn. I don't care how awesome angels are compared to humans; there's no way a child can pull off that last verse and then hold a note that long, that strong, at the end!"

The angel nodded slowly. "I have had little choice but to watch you perform over the last few nights," she said, "and you never do the same song exactly the same way twice. You adapt to the mood of the audience. I simply did the same." I looked at her wordlessly, one eyebrow raised, and after a moment, she continued. "My pace was perhaps half again faster than is normally sung, and as befits a song for teaching children, the strength of the verses traditionally remains consistent throughout. It is customary to hold the last note in honor of Terelon's triumph, but generally for four or five seconds."

"And you just sort of... improvised all of that? At a moment's notice?"

She gave me a puzzled look. "Is that supposed to be something difficult? You make similar adjustments to your own music."

"I've been trained as a performer." On two different worlds, but saying that would complicate things.

She smirked at me playfully. "And thus we see that, as you say, angels are awesome compared to humans."

Ugh. I walked right into that, didn't I? "So you've had no training at all?"

"I have had extensive training," she replied. "Just not in that particular discipline. Had a trained Lorekeeper been present last night, they could have brought everyone in the room to tears with a single note."

"Lorekeeper. Is that what you call Celestial bards?"

She shook her head. "It's what we call Celestial Lorekeepers. Bards are a thing of this realm. They use their talents to amuse and entertain. But the office of a Lorekeeper is a sacred one, to preserve the history and culture of my people."

"I see," I said slowly. "So then, what do you do for entertainment?"

She laughed mirthfully, her eyes twinkling as she turned to me and said, "If I told you the tale, you wouldn't believe me. But maybe, someday... I will anyway."

Bah! Using my own words against me like that!

* * *

The fourth night, I talked with Aylwyn about a reprise as we were approaching the town we'd be staying at, and she said she was willing. We found an inn and I walked in with my lute, only to find that someone had beaten me to the punch. There was a bard already present up by the hearth. It was an elven woman in a pale blue gown of some surprisingly smooth and modern-looking material, probably silk. She had a table pulled up to the hearth, and seated on the table was a wooden board holding an array of sparkling crystals, which she was running her fingers over to produce chiming tones that almost sounded electronic while she sang some ballad I wasn't familiar with.

Magic crystals were supposed to be one of the most difficult instruments to master, not only because it required magical talent as well as musical just to use them, but because unlike most instruments, where the sounds produced were purely mechanical in nature--you do this, you get this tone, you do that, you get that tone instead--a major component of what came out of a crystal tune was what the bard was thinking and visualizing at the time. That meant that playing crystals required constant focus; there was no way to learn it well enough that you can just play by rote and let habit take over.

I grinned at Aylwyn when I saw this. "She's pretty good," I said softly. "But her voice just doesn't have the power that yours does."

Aylwyn nodded slowly. "That's true," she said. "Why do you mention it?"

"Just watch." We took a seat at an empty table and waited for the bard's song to wind down. Once it did, I stood up, beckoning to Aylwyn to follow me. "A lovely song, m'lady," I said as I approached. "Would you care to play together?"

That's a question that works on multiple levels. It's not exactly the simple, friendly invitation it sounds like, among bards at least. It's more of a challenge--particularly to a stranger--carrying the unspoken implication that they could do better if they had some help. There's an informal etiquette to these things, and she responded appropriately. "If you can best me at a duel."

Now, this didn't mean pistols at ten paces at high noon, or even swords or daggers for that matter. No, a bard's duel is a much more civilized thing: you each perform one song, and let the audience decide the victor. "Very well," I said. There were three ways we could do this. "Would you like to perform a new song, or let this last speak for you? Or have us go first?"

A smart challenger would choose to go second here, to know what she was up against, and that's just what she did. "Please," she said. "You may play first. My voice could use a brief rest."

The gathered patrons were observing the ritual with interest, so I turned to address the room as I unpacked my lute. "I am called Peter Parker, and my companion is Aylwyn, and we're here tonight to perform a song of the angels, the Tale of Terelon." I had considered trying a name with a bit more panache to it, but I wasn't sure how Aylwyn would react to me messing with her culture, so I just went with something simple and descriptive.

"Just like you did it last night," I said softly to her, and she nodded. I took a few moments to ensure the lute was in tune, then strummed an introduction, hoping I'd be able to pull off a better accompaniment than I had the night before.

It was srill harder than I thought. I'd only heard it once, and as memorable as the song is, that's really not enough time to memorize the whole thing. So I found myself flubbing chords a few times, especially as it gained momentum. But I kept playing, and kept my accompaniment to the background; it was really Aylwyn's voice carrying the whole thing. I really built up the accompaniment at the triumphant ending, though; that part I hadn't been able to get out of my head all day, and I ended it strumming as hard as I could, hoping that the well-crafted instrument could hold the final chord as long as she could hold the note.

It didn't, of course. The humming of the strings died down soon enough, but Aylwyn seemed to notice, and she let her own voice taper off in a near-perfect unity with my strings. That really wowed me; the level of vocal control required to pull that off, especially after you've already been singing for a while, was impressive. Glancing over at my rival, I could see that she was similarly impressed. If it was anyone else, I'd say she looked a bit intimidated, but I'm not sure that's an expression that elves are actually capable of.

"Your voice is lovely," the bard calmly remarked to Aylwyn, "but it is clear that you have not practiced together nearly enough."

Aylwyn nodded. "True," she said modestly. "I am no bard, with years of training in the arts of music. I simply... sing, from time to time."

She smiled at Aylwyn. "You certainly have potential. Perhaps, if you were to train..." She looked up and addressed the room. "That was a beautiful song. But now I, Nulaera, bring my response."

Nulaera began to slowly run her long, slender fingers over the array of crystals on the table before her, beginning to draw a soft, slow, melancholy melody from them. She simply let the music build, flowing slowly through the room over the course of perhaps a minute and a half, waiting patiently. Once everyone in the room was watching carefully, once every eye was on her and all conversation and even eating and drinking had ceased, only then did she begin to sing.

Íludar, the lovely land
that waits for me across a sea
of tears and raging storms,
oh Íludar, I'm lost, cast out,
wand'ring here so far
from my beloved home
until the day that I return, my Íludar.

She was good, I'll give her that. She sang of the beauty of the distant Elven homeland, and we could almost see it. She mourned her separation from those she loved, and the magic crystals wailed her agony. Several of the patrons were openly moved to tears. Me, I was kind of scowling. That's a nasty trick to play; letting your adversary get their emotions all riled up with a powerful anthem like Aylwyn's, and then piggybacking on it with a song like this that's going to drop a massive load of catharsis on everyone.

If we'd been at the Bard's College, I'd have been perfectly within my rights to sabotage her song by jumping in with my lute and turning it into an impromptu duet, adding snarky counterpoints that would make the listeners laugh instead of cry. The other bards would judge you on style, on your skill at such improvisational tasks, and that's something I was always good at. But here, where the audience wasn't familiar with that culture, it would most likely be seen as boorish, so I just held my peace and let her finish her song.

When a bard's duel ends, sometimes it's obvious who's won, just by observing the audience. They really reacted to one song, and not the other. But sometimes, times like this one, it's not so clear. So we called for a vote among the crowd of patrons in the common room, and in the end it was close enough that we decided to both play. Aylwyn even sang a few more of her Celestial oral history pieces, and Nulaera proved quicker than me at picking up on the tune, improvising a harmony on her crystals. This is actually the sort of outcome that most bards truly hope for when they duel. Winning is fun, sure, but when it ends in a draw, when you're able to perform with someone, to both learn learn from each other and build something together, especially when it's a new bard who you're not yet familiar with... there's just a certain simple joy in that, one that you don't find too many other places.

So the last night of my quest together with Aylwyn went really well, right up until things were winding down. When we were both packing up our instruments, Nulaera turned to me with a smile. "That was much more fun than I had expected this night to be," she said. "And I must say I am impressed, Peter Parker. You have a certain depth of appreciation for the profound that I would not have expected from the author of something as whimsical and silly as the Lay of Paul Twister."

Aylwyn looked up when she heard that, looking over at me with a questioning expression. I just sighed and gave her a subtle nod. Her face didn't give away much, but I'd spent enough time with her to know what she was most likely thinking. It probably had a lot to do with disapproving sentiments about someone who would write a song to boast of their own deeds.

I smiled to Nulaera and thanked her, and we exchanged a few more pleasantries before I headed to my room, all the while dreading the inevitable questions from Aylwyn the next day. But there wasn't much to do about that; in the end I'd just have to face the music, as it were.

20: The Lion's Den

Chapter 20
The Lion's Den

Aylwyn made me perform "the song you wrote of your own deeds" for her the next morning, as we got back out on the road. Once I did, she actually seemed more amused by it than anything else. The fact that I had written it, though, was apparently a bit less amusing. "You created this," she mused, "to spread around false rumors of yourself? To make people think that you are some sort of hero, an itinerant righter-of-wrongs?"

I shook my head. "Mostly I just wrote it to entertain people. Most of the stuff in there, there's no truth to it at all, but it's not supposed to be understood as a true story, the way your songs are. It's a bunch of tall tales, intended to make people laugh, and I stuck the name of a mysterious figure that a lot of people were talking about at the time on the whole thing. I'd have probably done the same even if I wasn't the guy behind the titular mysterious figure; it just makes for a good song." There was another purpose to it, of course, the same one that the names I had chosen for my cover identities served, but I wasn't about to go into that with her.

She didn't really seem satisfied by that answer, but that was the best she was going to get. Things were pretty quiet the rest of the way to Declan.

Ken'tu Kel didn't actually live in the city; his tower was a few miles out of town, so we went around and made our way to the seat of authority for the circle. Apparently the Archmagus actually had two towers, each about ten miles outside the city. To the south was a tower that was his personally, and to the north was one that officially belonged to the Circle where they cared for administrative business. Aylwyn knew of this, and she led me to the northern tower. She announced to the guards on duty that she was a liason of the Celestial Paladins to the Circle of Magi, and she was here on official business, with an important delivery that Ken'tu Kel was personally expecting.

To my annoyance, we were sent in immediately. Bah! Why is it important people responded quickly when she makes a grandiose claim like that, when it never seemed to work for me lately? Life just isn't fair sometimes!

We did end up having to wait for several minutes in a lower room of the tower until the Archmage could be located. I couldn't help but be a little bit nervous; here I was in what Hill had facetiously referred to as a lion's den, and even having an angel around to watch my back didn't necessarily make me feel any less nervous seeing as how I was in the headquarters for a bunch of guys who had every reason to hate Paul Twister, about to come face to face with the chief lion himself.

With all that building up all morning, actually meeting Mr. Head Lion was really a bit anticlimactic. He walked in, impeccably dressed in a deep blue wizard's robe, and smiled as he saw Aylwyn. I'd seen him briefly in Fiona Khal's mirror, but in person he was, well, about the same. Short, bald, with a thick mustache and a rich, deep voice. I was sort of expecting there would be something more to him, some sort of presence, some sort of power or personal charisma, as befits the leader of the most powerful group of wizards around, but being there with him was just like... being there with some guy. I was a bit disappointed, actually.

He spent most of the time speaking with Aylwyn. She gave him an account of our climbing the mountain and penetrating the dragon's lair, getting past the traps and the illusions, fighting the dead dragon, and recovering as much loot as we could easily bring with us, to be brought to the Circle and put to good use. Interestingly enough, she didn't mention the aluminum at all; she simply stated that the fake treasure turned out to be made of "a metal that Paul judged to be valueless, and as he made no attempt to surreptitiously gather any, I defer to his judgment in the matter, as an expert on the subject of items of worth."

That was actually kind of cool of her, between that and the way she refrained from giving away any of the more personal details of our journey, the ones that could be used to give the Circle some sort of leverage against me. It kind of made me wonder whose side she was really on; wasn't she supposed to be acting as an agent of the Circle this whole time?

The three of us went out to examine the cart together. I made sure to ask Ken'tu Kel specifically if this fulfilled the terms of my contract to deliver the dragon skull to his tower, as I understood that this tower was not his, personally, and pointed out that if it did not, I'd be more than happy to haul it around to the other side of the city. He laughed and said that that would not be necessary; that the tower was the Circle's but he was the administrator and steward in possession of the tower, and between that and being the head of the Circle, he considered it good enough to fulfill the contract. And, more to the point, good enough to be bound to pay me for it.

We unloaded the dragon bones and scales, the magical artifacts, the gems and the gold, and brought the whole load in to a room on the ground floor of the tower. The Archmage was actually more than generous with me, saying that per the agreement we had reached, half of it was mine, the other half going to the Circle. He took the skull off to one side of the room, and handed me a pouch bulging with gold and a second, smaller one filled with gemstones, in exchange, and then said I was free to take half of what remained, though he would prefer if I left the draconic remains in the Circle's care, as they were of particular value. He cast a few spells of measurement and worked some calculations, and gave me an estimate of a fair value for my half of the dragon bones and scales would be, and offered twelve per cent above that, payable in gold, to leave them behind.

I ended up mostly going for things of immediate value, the gold and gems. I did take the lute, of course, and after Aylwyn gave me a few significant looks, I picked the puzzle box for my own as well. I picked out several of the smaller dragon bones--vertebrae, mostly, and a few teeth and claws--and a few scales, much to Ken'tu Kel's chagrin. I figured I could find some useful things to do with them, particularly with Gerald's help, but in front of the Archmage I just stayed in character as the simple mercenary thief. Anything he valued more than gold had to be worthwhile, afterall!

He surprised me with one thing, though, once we were done dividing the loot and arranging payments. "Paul," the Archmage said in his obnoxiously perfect Prince Charming voice. "I recently received a message from an associate of mine, Gerald Wolf. He told me that he had a brief encounter with you, and found that you were in possession of a very troublesome artifact, a gemstone bearing draconic influence."

I nodded slowly, not wanting to give too much away. It made sense that Gerald would warn Ken'tu Kel of this, but I didn't know what else he might have said, so it was best to play this one close to the chest. "He found a way to neutralize it, so Ryell couldn't use it to project magic against us on the remainder of our journey," I said, "but he seemed convinced that she would already know about our quest. I suspect that foreknowledge was directly responsible for several of the dangers we encountered while upon the mountain."

The Archmagus nodded slowly. "Yes, he said as much to me. He also said that he only considered his enchantment to be a temporary solution at best, and he warned me that I may find it prudent to attempt to revitalize, or even improve upon, his work."

I raised an eyebrow at that. "Did he?"

"He did. But actually, I believe I may be able to go one step further."

That intrigued me. "What did you have in mind?" I asked cautiously. I wasn't about to completely let my guard down around him, but so far he'd dealt fairly with me, and that counted for something at least.

"Archmagus Wolf also mentioned that you offered to leave the stone in his keeping, but he declined, as he believed that such an act would provoke the dragon to anger, and he did not possess the means to effectively mount a defense against any retaliation." Then he grinned at me. "With these dragon bones, I believe that now, here... we do."

"So you'd be willing to take the stone off my hands?"

He nodded. "It would be interesting to study such a thing. If it is personally attuned to Ryell herself, as you and Archmagus Wolf both assume to be the case, it is possible that we could actually use it as a further link to the dragoness, to defend against her directly." He paused for a moment, as if considering something. "I understand that the stone is a quite large, uncut sapphire. Would you be willing to show it to me?"

I retrieved it from my pack, a bit hesitantly. I was glad Aylwyn was still around, watching. "Here it is," I said, taking the stone from my pack, still wrapped in the fine netting that gave form to Gerald's containment spell.

The archmage was impressed. "That is truly an impressive stone," he said. I could almost see the wheels turning in his head. "With this, we could not only form a link against the dragon, but store an immense amount of magical energy within." He looked me in the eyes. "This could be an exceptional weapon against Ryell, Paul Twister, and I would pay handsomely for it in trade."

I chewed on my lip a little. "How handsomely?"

Ken'tu Kel beckoned. "Come..." He led the two of us out and down a hallway, into a heavily warded room that it took him nearly a minute to open the door to. "I hope you appreciate the level of trust I'm extending, simply by revealing the existence of this room," he said to me.

Once I stepped inside, I could see why! The room was a vault! There were artifacts scattered throughout, incredibly valuable-looking things, none of which would have looked out of place along the back wall of the dragon's hoard. "Pick one," Ken'tu Kel said. "The sapphire is worth any of these."

I looked over various things, ignoring whatever appeared to be magical or enchanted, which cut things down quite a bit. I saw Aylwyn looking over the items as well, and after a minute her attention was drawn to one in particular. So I walked over. She was looking at a golden statuette, about two feet high and extremely realistic-looking, of an angelic warrior with his wings, which appeared to be made of silver, spread wide, a shiny silvery sword in his hand. "What's the story behind the statue of this angel?"

Ken'tu Kel looked between me and Aylwyn curiously before responding. "As I'm sure Aylwyn could tell you, this is a likeness of Terelon, the legendary founder of the order of Celestial Paladins. The statuette is one of a series of ten legendary heroes fashioned by James Povent, considered to be his greatest work." That was interesting. I'd heard the name of James Povent a few times before, a sculptor from about two hundred years ago, one of the Great Masters. "The body is solid gold to a great degree of purity. The wings are silver and the blade is aluminum. It's a priceless work of art, which makes it worth exactly the same as your sapphire. It is yours if you want it, but you'd have difficulty carrying it out of here." He was right, of course. The little statuette probably weighed a good bit more than I did! You ever see someone in a movie rob a vault filled with gold bars, carrying them or even tossing them around like they were clay bricks? A real gold bar about the size of a brick would weigh around 30 pounds, and this was several bricks worth of gold.

I frowned slightly at the Archmage's description. "I hadn't heard that Povent worked in gold," I said.

The wizard nodded slowly. "Not ordinarily, but the heroes were a special commission by King Geoffrey III. Most of them still reside in the Royal Treasury of Anduin, but three of them, including this one, have had to be sold to cover various debts over the years."

It almost seemed too good to be true. A treasure like this was worth several times what the sapphire was on the base metal value alone, and much more if you consider the value of the artwork. Then again, the sapphire had quite a bit of "unique object value" as well on its side of the balance sheet, and my life back home had shown me quite vividly the emotional extremes people will go to, considering no price too high in the name of securing themselves against a vast and scary threat. Basic economics, I suppose. We both figured we were getting a great value out of the deal. "Would you be able to procure for me a wooden box that would hold this, filled with sawdust?" That's the other tricky thing about gold and silver: not only are they incredibly heavy, they're also extremely soft and need to be handled with care.

A slow smile curled the Archmage's lips upward. "I believe I could arrange for that."

"And with that, I will have your leave to depart, free and safe?"

He gave me a ever-so-slightly patronizing look. "You have done a great service to the Circle and to me, more than you know. Whatever you may have done against our interests in the past, consider it expunged." A brief pause, then he seemed to think of something. "Though if I were you, I would not consider that a licence to act against us in the future." A wry grin quirked at the corners of his mouth.

I nodded, trying to appear sufficiently contrite and appropriately grateful. "Thank you, Archmage. And if I could ask one last thing? A simple question?"

He nodded. "Yes?"

"On a completely unrelated matter, I have some business to conduct with April O'Neil. I passed her manor on the way here, and was told that she was here, meeting with you, and was likely to remain for several days still. Would you be able to tell me where I could find her?"

Ken'tu Kel winced slightly at the mention of April's name. "It would seem fate conspires against you," he sighed. "We received word a few days ago that there had been a terrible magical accident involving a member of her family, and she cut short her visit and rushed home immediately. If you wish to find her, you'll have to make your way back to Tary."

You know, I really should have expected that.

I sighed. "Very well. As soon as I have this statuette packed safely in a crate, in the back of my cart, the sapphire is yours." And good riddance to the accursed thing! Of course, I'd have the same basic problem selling the statuette as I would have had trying to sell the sapphire. You can't easily find a buyer for something that valuable and unique, and if I tried to do so under the name of one of my aliases, some of whom might actually have the connections to pull it off, I'd be blowing their cover.

Then again, there are plenty of things you can get in exchange for something valuable, other than money, if you have a good enough imagination...

* * *

"So," I asked Aylwyn once we got outside and started heading towards the city of Declan, still on foot for the moment. "What are you going to do now?" As much as I might enjoy further traveling with her, the quest was the only thing keeping the two of us together and deep inside, I knew that.

She smiled gently. "I'll be returning to the Celestial Realm for a few days of rest. After that, I have more to do in my work with the Circle. My investigation into a faction of renegade wizards dealing in dark powers was never resolved satisfactorily."

That made me think. "When I made the contract with Robert De Long, the witness was a man named Brian Eckart, who seemed to know about the situation."

She nodded. "I suspected he was involved somehow, but what I was truly searching for was the person in charge. For a good length of time I suspected Gerald Wolf, though having met him--and having spent some of the time we passed at his residence investigating various matters--I believe that suspicion can be laid to rest. Unfortunately, that leaves me back where I began."

Hmph. And here I'd thought that that suggestion would be helpful. "Well," I thought for a moment. "I suppose this is where we part ways, then?" She nodded wordlessly. "All right. But first, I have three gifts for you."

She looked at me, a bit surprised. "There's really only one thing--"

"The box. I know." I climbed up into the cart and handed it to her. She'd found it quite the worthwhile pastime, and she'd managed to find at least four carvings that did something, though she still didn't have much of an idea as to how it all fit together. "That's the first one. The second..." I rooted around in my pack, gathering a few things up, then wrapping them in a handkerchief. "Here, this is the rest of the chocolate I picked up. Take it; it seems like you enjoyed it more than I did anyway."

She looked a bit taken aback by the unexpected gift. "...and the third?"

I hopped down off the cart and patted the crate. "I saw you eying the statue of Terelon. I'd like to give it over into the care of the Celestial Paladins for safekeeping, to be cared for and displayed as they see fit." Her eyes widened at that, and I held up a hand to keep her from saying anything just yet. "With the understanding that it remains my rightful property, to be returned should I call for it." I figured as long as I had a priceless work of art that I couldn't do much of anything with, why not get an appreciative museum to care for it for me, and make myself a few friends in high places while I'm at it?

Aylwyn looked a little bit overwhelmed as she realized the implications. "This is something you're not likely to have the opportunity to sell," she said slowly, thinking it through, "and it does not seem within your character to destroy something like this, simply to render it into the component metals..."

I nodded. "Your hero's got a good long career ahead of him, inspiring the Paladins. Would you be able to arrange that?"

The angel nodded. "It would be an honor," she said. Then, she took a slow, deep breath. "And I... have three gifts to give you in return."

I blinked a little, wondering just what she had in mind. She was almost certainly making the gifts up on the spot, as part of some desire for reciprocity. "You do?"

She smiled warmly and stepped forward, placing her hands on my shoulders, and then leaning in. "First," she whispered, "a kiss." She placed a soft kiss on my cheek, as she had the first time we met, again just before she departed. And again, it made me shiver and my heart started beating faster.

"Second," she murmured in my ear, then slowly stepped away. Then she did something I never expected: she reached one hand around behind her back, and after a moment a brief wince of pain crossed her face. She composed herself quickly enough, though, and when she brought her hand back around, it was holding a single creamy white feather. "A remembrance." She gently took my hand in hers, pressing the feather into my palm. It was pretty small; about as large as it could get without being too big for me to close my hand around. I kind of got the impression that there was some special significance to it, though she didn't see fit to provide any explanation.

"And third," she smiled, "a favor owed, should our paths cross again at a later date."

I smiled back, but I couldn't resist the urge to tease her a little, at the disproportionate nature of what she'd offered in return. "All that," I grinned playfully, "and it's only worth one kiss?" I leaned forwards and wiggled my eyebrows at her.

She just smirked and stepped away. "You have been very fortunate today, Paul Twister. Do not press your luck." She moved around to the back of the cart and picked up the crate containing the statue--it was heavy enough that even the angel had a bit of trouble lifting it, but that's still a lot more than I could have done, picking up something that big and heavy by herself--and placing it gently across Wyntaf's back. She used some rope to tie it securely to her horse, then turned to me, flashing me one last lovely, brilliant smile. "I will see that this is cared for well. Thank you, for some most memorable days. You did not prove at all to be what I had been expecting."

I nodded, fighting to keep my expression neutral. "Safe journeys," I said. "And I hope our paths do cross again, some day soon."

She began to shine, brighter and brighter, until I had to look away. And then the lights went out, and she and her horse were gone.

And I was missing her already.

* * *

AUTHOR'S NOTE: We're getting close to the end of the story now. Originally, I'd planned for the entire dragon skull quest to only take a few chapters, and for all this and the events of the next chapter to be the first half of the book, setting up the real quest, where an adventuring party composed of Aylwyn, Paul, Gerald, Patrick Hill, and Sarah spent the second half on an epic quest to avert a serious catastrophe and figure out what had happened to April, who had managed to get mixed up in the whole thing and vanish somewhere along the line.

But as the story progressed, it ended up growing in a very different direction, and now instead of being halfway through at this point, things are rapidly approaching the end of the story, and I've scattered enough clues around to give an astute reader a good idea of most of what's going to happen from here on out... but not everything, of course. There are still a few Twists to come, before I wrap this up...

21: Can't Go Home Again

Chapter 21
Can't Go Home Again

The next week was lonely and long and boring. I sold off the cart and the draft horse in the city, and exchanged most of the gold I'd obtained from the job for letters of credit from various reputable moneychangers, or at least the least disreputable ones, which I then folded inside of sealed letters and paid some couriers to deliver to various alter-egos of mine. I'd made arrangements to cover my obligations for a two-month trip, and so far, due to Aylwyn's help with the horses, I was several days under budget time-wise, so I wasn't too worried about getting back late.

I didn't want the feather Aylwyn gave me to get bent or damaged, and that's harder to prevent than you'd think when plastic hasn't been invented yet. I ended up storing it in a hidden compartment in the sole of one of my boots. It may not be as symbolically sweet as keeping it next to my heart, but it would make it very difficult to lose, and it just kind of felt good knowing I'd have a little bit of her with me no matter where I went.

I stayed at different towns and different inns on my way back to Tary. It was sort of intentional and sort of something that just happened anyway, since without Aylwyn around I was moving at a slower pace. I still sang for my supper each night, and I'm a good enough performer that people didn't seem to notice that my heart wasn't really in it. The show must go on, afterall.

It was getting on towards evening the seventh day when I arrived at O'Neil Manor. I was a bit surprised to see five guards on duty at the gate, where before there had only been two. I told them that I was Clark Kent, here to see April or Patrick, and that they'd be expecting me. At least this time, there was no hassle and no runaround. One of them went off inside the manor house, and came back a few minutes later to show me in.

The place was a mess inside! It looked as if the first few rooms had been broken into and ransacked: things thrown all over the floors, furniture broken and oveturned, and so on. I stood there in stunned silence for a few brief moments, then Patrick walked up to me. "I must apologize for the mess," he said with a pained expression on his face.

"What happened here? Burglars?"

He shook his head. "Sarah."

"What? Sarah did this?" I could just maybe picture the cute catgirl getting annoyed and using certain parts of the room as a scratching post or something, but this wholesale destruction just didn't look right. "How?"

Hill sighed. "There was more to her curse than was initially apparent. She was not transformed into a half-catfolk, not exactly."

I bit my lip. "Then what was it?"

"She appears to have become half-human."

I frowned. "That makes no sense."

Hill shook his head. "What I mean is, what the other half is... varies. Each night she goes to sleep as one thing and each morning she wakes up as another. And today she is half-ogre."

I let out a low whistle. "And something annoyed her?"

He nodded wryly. "She's still having difficulty getting used to it. Each race seems to have its own distinct emotional baselines, and she changes too frequently to get used to any of them." He sighed softly. "It's like puberty all over again, but five times worse. I dread what might happen if she wakes up tomorrow as a half-dragon or half-demon."

"And April hasn't been able to do anything to help?"

The bard frowned. "She still hasn't returned, and I've heard nothing from her. I'm beginning to worry."

"She hasn't? Ken'tu Kel told me she headed home as soon as word reached her about Sarah, and that was a week ago."

Hill's eyes widened slightly. "That's news to me. I sent the message to the Circle by mirror, but never received a response. If she'd wanted to return quickly, she would have used the teleportation chamber from Ken'tu Kel's tower, and emerged here instantly."

"Could she have been waylaid somehow?" I asked, thinking about it. "Perhaps whoever placed the curse on Sarah did so to lure her into a teleport and intercept it?"

"A teleport is not a ball thrown through the air, for a third party to snatch away," Hill said, shaking his head. "You are taken immediately to the teleportation chamber at your destination."

"Then either there's a hole in your knowledge of the magic involved, or something's gone very wrong. Either way, you've got two messes on your hands right now. I already know there's not much I can do for your daughter directly, but if there's anything else I can do to help, just ask." Somehow, I doubted this is what she had in mind when she originally sent word that she wanted me to rescue her. Then, looking around, I added, "There's one thing already, at least." I walked over and started manhandling some of the overturned furniture into a proper, upright position.

Hill gave me a grateful smile and moved to help out, which I was happy for because some of that stuff was really heavy! "It's late," he said. "You're welcome to stay here tonight, and tomorrow we will plan what to do."

I nodded. "So where is Sarah now?"

"In her room. When she would not calm herself, I laid her out with a sleeping spell." He gave a weary-sounding sigh. "This is the second time I've had to do that, and I hated it both times. I do hope tomorrow will be a more tranquil day."

He arranged for a guest room for me to stay the night in, and got some servants to see to my horses. He was very interested, though, when he saw the lute case. "You play the lute?" he asked.

"A little," I said modestly. "Perhaps you could show me a thing or two?" I figured after the stressful events of the last couple weeks, a bit of relaxing and talking shop would do him some good. We'd done a fair amount of cleanup work by this point, and I sat down on a couch and opened the case.

"Well, I'm more of a piper than anything, but--" he stopped cold when he saw what I was pulling out, giving me a strange look. "Where did you get that?"

I waved my hand. "It's a long story. Nice lute, though, isn't it?"

"May I look at it? That cannot be what it looks like!"

I nodded and beckoned him over curiously. "All right, what does it look like? Am I missing something?"

He didn't say anything for several moments, just slowly looking it over, turning it to examine different sides. "Paul," he said slowly, "this is not simply a 'nice lute.' It has every appearance of being the handiwork of Unirial himself!" I looked up at him in surprise; Unirial was said to be one of the greatest of the Elven bards of antiquity. If that was true, the lute would have to be somewhere around a thousand years old! "None of his work is known to survive to the present time; I don't know whether to be outraged that you stole such a thing, or in awe that you managed to locate it in the first place! Where did you find such a thing?"

"Like I said, it's a long story. The short version is, it's not stolen; I retrieved it from a dragon's lair, but the dragon is dead now and isn't going to be angry at me for taking it."

He rolled his eyes. "I know you are a liar and a scoundrel, but to claim that you killed a dragon... that is a tall tale even for you."

I smirked at him. "I claimed nothing of the sort, and what I said, precisely as I said it, is true. Please don't press me further on the subject."

"But how--"

I held up a hand to cut him off, seeing as how I really didn't want to explain the abandoned dragon's lair. "Would you like to ask more questions, and annoy me? Or would you like a chance to play it? I'm sure you know a few things about the lute, even if it isn't your principal instrument."

Hill scowled at my blatant attempt to bribe him, a scowl made all the deeper by the fact that it worked. Everyone has their weaknesses, and this was one of his. "Oh, all right." He held it reverently at first, just slowly, lovingly caressing the wooden body in a way that might have made April just a teensy bit jealous if she'd been present. Then he closed his eyes and began to play, hesitantly at first, then slowly gaining confidence in his fingerwork. I didn't recognize most of the tunes he played, and he wasn't especially good at playing them, but there was just something there. He knew what he was working with, and the sounds he drew forth were richer and more beautiful than anything I'd managed to get out of the old lute.

He played and played and played some more, letting out all his emotions for an hour and a little bit longer, wordlessly but still quite clearly expressing the turmoil that his life had been in over the past few weeks. When it was done, and he finally laid it down beside him, there was a tear rolling down his cheek. "Thank you," he whispered. "That's probably the first good thing that's happened to me since the curse fell upon Sarah."

We talked a little bit more, but he didn't really have too much more to say after pouring out his heart like that, and before long I packed up the lute and headed to bed.

* * *

I'm not sure what I was expecting the next morning. I'm pretty sure it didn't involve Hill coming to me with a message written in English, asking what it meant.

Guess what happened the next morning?

It was right after I woke up. The sun was still coming up, and I made my way out of my guest room, looking to see if I could find the kitchen. Instead, I found Patrick Hill looking for me. "Paul? Do you know what this is?" He handed me a piece of parchment. On it were some very unexpected words.

"My dearest Darmok, I am being held captive by the Beast at Tanagra. Please help me. Love, Jalad."

I was a bit baffled by that. "This message is meaningless without the proper context."

"I know that! That's why I'm asking you."

"No," I sighed. "I mean, that's literally what the message means. It's a reference to a theatrical work from the Drift, about a ship's captain who winds up marooned on an island with a stranger. He has magic that allows them to speak to one another, but even though he understands the stranger's words, he can't make any sense of what they mean, put together. Eventually he comes to understand that the other man speaks entirely in reference and metaphor, that everything he says is some sort of allusion to story of his people. And only when he begins to understand this, are they able to communicate and work together. It was quite a good play."

Hill frowned at me. "If all of their language consisted of references to tales, how could they tell each other the tales in the first place?"

I shrugged. "It doesn't have to make perfect sense when the point it simply to communicate the underlying concept. Where did you find this?"

"It was in my bed this morning when I woke, where April sleeps. I think she somehow sent it to me. But why would she send me a message that only you can read?"

"Maybe she knows I'm here?" I asked.

"That could be. But even so, why send a message that makes no sense to you?" He paused for a moment, considering something. "Were there any other memorable phrases from this play?"

It had been quite a while since I saw it. I had to think for a while. "Shakal, when the walls fell. It was supposed to represent failure of some plan."

His eyes widened a little at that. "Come with me."

I followed him down one hallway and up another, until he led me to a room that was empty. Nothing but stone walls. Each wall had something written on it, in the script that I had never managed to pick up.

"About three months ago, April had this room cleared out, and she wrote on each of the walls. Nonsense words." He pointed to one. "This one. It says sha-kal."

I looked at him. "So... what, then? You think we need to tear this wall down? It's a shame you don't have a half-ogre daughter today."

He chuckled a little at that. "I suppose we'll have to make do."

I looked the wall over, to make sure it didn't look load-bearing before we tried anything. Once I was satisfied it would be safe... I had no idea what to do next. "I don't suppose you've got any magic that would make this easier?"

He nodded. "Stand back." He held out his hands, and the stones began to quiver and hum, vibrating at a painful frequency that set my teeth on edge. Hill's face broke out in sweat as he kept up whatever it was he was doing, and then suddenly the wall started to disintegrate into a big mess of pebbles and dust and chunks of smaller stone. It took him about three minutes, all told, to bring it down.

Hill frowned a little. "That was far too easy," he said. "The wall should have been a lot more sturdy than that."

"Unless it was made to come down," I responded.

Inside, there was a staircase headed down, to some sort of basement. A bunch of loose stone had fallen into the stairwell, and we cleared some of it away, opening the door at the bottom of the stairs, then descending further. Hill called up some sort of magelight for us to see by.

At the bottom of the stairs was a chamber of some sort, with little wooden carvings scattered around. They were obviously shaped by some deliberate process, but they didn't seem to be of anything in particular, like statues of people or animals or plants or anything. "Do you know what those are?" I asked.

He nodded. "They're abstract foci. They have spells sealed within them.

"So what do they do? And why would we be led here?"

Hill looked around a little, and found another piece of parchment, sitting under one of the wooden things. It contained another message written in English, and when he showed it to me, my blood ran cold.

"Remember, our gate is down." The word "our" was underlined three times.

He must have noticed the look on my face. "What is this? It's something bad?"

I nodded. "It's a warning, a very dire one. It means we have an enemy, who has an objective, and they are at the point where they believe that all that they must do is accomplish this objective, in any way possible, with no regard for consequences."

Hill looked a little bit annoyed by this. "This is nothing but cryptic riddles, even for you, who should understand them. Why do we have nothing that says who this beast is, who is our enemy that we must defend against? And why send things that you understand, and not me?"

I could only think of one reasonable explanation. "It's encryption," I said. "It's a technique from the Drift, to send messages that cannot be understood except by the person who holds the key, even should they fall into the hands of a third party. She can't take the chance that anyone would be able to intercept and understand it, which means someone with the power to translate this language. It means that she fears that anything she might say privately to you could be understood."

He shook his head. "That can't be," he said. "There is only one person who she knows as well as that, who would have the magic to read the languages, and the knowledge of her to understand private matters."

"And who's that?" I asked, hoping the conclusion I was moments away from jumping to was the wrong one.

Unfortunately, it wasn't. "Ken'tu Kel, the Archmagus of the Circle," Hill said gravely.

I just about saw red there. "So when he told me that she was on her way home already--"

Hill nodded. "He probably had taken her captive." A look of anguish crossed his face as he realized the further implications. "And April prepared for this months ago, but she never said a word to me.

I looked around. "I don't suppose there are any little wooden spell thingies here that will make an explosion big enough to drop that tower around his head? Do you even know what these things do?"

"Some of them," Hill replied. "This one, but it's worthless. It rusts metal. And this one makes a person stronger for a few hours. This one here will keep your hands warm if you hold it on a cold day. They are curiosities, mostly, not the sort of thing one would assault the tower of an archmage with."

"Wait," I said. "These aren't intended for a mage. The only person who can read the messages--the person who would have to be with you for you to find this room--is me. And I don't work magic; I break it." I reached into my pocket and put my ring on. "Here, help me gather these into one place."

We piled them all up in the center of the room. "All right," I said. "You'd better stand back, just in case I'm wrong about this." Hill backed away nervously, and I took the ring off again. I got down on all fours, then plunged both hands deep into the pile of wooden spell-things and let the Twist flow freely.

The wood melted. That's about the only way I can describe it. It flowed like melting wax, becoming one big lump on the floor, then somehow formed up again, into two round balls, one of them about the size of a bowling ball, the other about the size of a ping-pong ball.

"Do you have any idea what I just did?" I asked. I stepped away and put the ring back on, and Hill came over to take a look at them.

"This one," he said, holding up the smaller ball, "is a whirlwind charm. It will create a very small windstorm. No more useful than any of the other trinkets. But this," he frowned, and turned it over, trying to understand what it was. "I haven't seen a spell focus like this before."

That's when I noticed three round holes in it. It wasn't just the size of a bowling ball, apparently! "Try this," I said. "Stick your thumb there, and these two fingers there and there."

He gave me a quizzical look, but did as I directed, and then something happened. The wall f the room suddenly became painted with what appeared to be a map, with bright red circles in two places. It looked like a local map, and one of the circles was around a tower icon just south of Declan. The other was back in the kingdom I spent most of my time in, at another tower, one I wasn't familiar with.

"This is a map," said Hill. At any other time I would have snarked at him for pointing out the obvious, but I held my peace, and he continued. "It looks like locations of all of the wizards' towers belonging to Magi of the Circle are marked here."

"So who lives in this one?" I asked him, pointing at the second marked tower.

"I don't know. And they aren't labeled with names either."

I pointed to one close by. "I do know this tower, though. The owner is a friend of mine. Archmage Gerald Wolf. Whatever's going on, I think he could help. He's know to not be a friend of Ken'tu Kel anyway."

Hill nodded and turned, heading for the staircase. "I'll contact him immediately."

I started following him, then a thought struck me. "Wait. Contact him how?"

"By mirror, or course."

That's what I was afraid he'd say. "Where did April get her mirror from?"

He gave me an odd look. "From some glazier. She did the enchantment herself."

That was a bit of a relief. "So it wasn't made by Ken'tu Kel?"

"No, but it did prove the inspiration for his idea to turn scrying mirrors into speaking mirrors."

Figures. "So then he spent a lot of time studying it, I'd imagine?"

"Yes," Hill said slowly. "Why?"

"In that case, it's very possible that he came up with a way to listen in on any conversations using this mirror. Trying to contact Gerald would not be safe."

He turned and shot me a dark look. "What do you expect me to do, then?"

"Well, I hate to say it, but... I think right now, what April expects you to do is nothing. She expects me to take this whirlwind charm--for whatever inexplicable reason--and find some way to help her. I think you need to take care of your daughter."

Hill fumed at that for a minute or two, then sighed, his shoulders slumping a little. "I hate it," he said, "but I think you're right."

"Also," I said, "prepare whatever you can. If this doesn't work, we're going to need something big and powerful. I'm sure April has left behind a few things you can put to good use. I don't know exactly what or how, just... be ready."

"Ready for what?"

"For anything."

"Oh, you always bring such great comfort into my life, every time you appear, Paul Twister."

I sighed. "Hey, I don't like this any more than you do. Someone's pulling my strings, and that's never been a good way to get me in a good mood. But if she's going to send a warning like that--and there's not too many things I can think of that would be more urgent--we've really only got one choice. Play along and fight back... or lose."

"Lose what?"

"Lose everything.  Lose the game, whatever game it is the enemy is playing, that he thinks he is on the verge of total victory from."

Whatever it was, it seemed really urgent. I grabbed a very quick breakfast, and then I was off, back the way I had come, again. I never did see what it was Sarah turned into that day; apparently she was sleeping late.

I was halfway to Declan before I figured out a good use for the whirlwind spell.

22: None Of Woman Born

Chapter 22
None Of Woman Born

I really should have thought of this before I left. It was a bit obvious once the idea did occur to me. The miniature whirlwind spell wasn't meant to help me; it was almost certainly just part of the message. A big whirlwind, afterall, is a tornado. A Twister.

That didn't mean I couldn't use it for something. I just had a heck of a time figuring out what. The obvious thing was as a distraction. Hill showed me how to activate it before I left, when we were outside. It kicked up a big cloud of dust, but that was about all it managed to do, and then it would have to wait several hours before the spell was ready to be used again. At least, that's what he said; even with my ring on, I couldn't actually get it to work, even days later. It was too bad, too. I eventually came up with a pretty good idea as to what I could do with it.

I didn't waste too much time trying to get the thing to work, though. I was riding hard the whole time, really pushing my horses, trying to match or even beat the pace I'd set making this journey with Aylwyn. By the end of the first day, they were both in very bad shape. I ended up trading them, plus a fair bit of the gold I had on hand, to a farmer for two that were still strong and healthy. He overcharged me horribly. I didn't care. I rode into the night, until I was too exhausted to stay in the saddle, then I pitched my tent by the side of the road and slept for a few hours until the sun came up, and then I did it all over again.

Fiona Khal had been right. I was a Gray Knight, with everyone moving me wherever they felt like on their little game board. Well, I was through with that now; it was time for me to make a move of my own.

Even switching horses out, it took me five agonizingly long days to get to Declan, and I was completely exhausted by the time I arrived. Part of me didn't care that I felt almost dead. Part of me just wanted to find a sword, a cloak and a wheelbarrow and go attack the tower, do anything, whatever it took, to stop... whatever it was Ken'tu Kel was trying to do. But then the rest of me, the rational part, asserted itself. I'd been burning my candle at both ends. I didn't have the strength I'd need for even normal functioning, nor the intelligence I'd require to successfully break in and throw a monkey wrench into Ken'tu Kel's plans, whatever they were. (For example, I didn't even know anything about what it was he was planning!)

So I had two choices. Get an inn room and take good care of myself for the night, wagering that whatever would take him five days could still take him six before he accomplished it, or go charging in blindly right now, and almost certainly get myself killed while accomplishing nothing. And when I put it that way... I picked the inn. I even splurged a little, going out to a public bath house that was about the closest thing they had to a spa around here, soaking in hot water for a couple hours and then ordering a massage. It was very relaxing, and very needed. Didn't help me get to sleep any faster that night, though. I was kept up until late, going over and over the same fruitless frustrations in my head.

I thought I didn't know anything about his plan, but that turned out not to be true. If he was acting directly to accomplish a goal, without fear of consequences, he would squander any resources at his disposal if it would further the objective. Something like a priceless work of art. So he really wanted the dragon bits, and the sapphire, as a part of his plan. And with the way he'd been only too happy to agree to everything so I would take my price and leave, he probably wanted me gone, out of the picture. He saw my power as a threat. He wanted to do something against the dragon Ryell, something so big it would allow him to act without fear of consequences, it involved kidnapping April, and he wanted me kept out of it.

Made sense. It would almost certainly involve some big magic, and I break magic. Tomorrow, I was gonna go break some more of it.

Assuming, of course, that my analysis was correct. That was the problem, though. There was one important piece I had failed to consider, as obvious as it is in hindsight: he had to have known, after I discovered April never made it home, that I would come back, looking for her.

* * *

Anyone watching me the next morning probably wouldn't think I was gearing up to fight a wizard who had every reason to believe he could take on a greater dragon and win. I went around to a few merchants in the city, picking up silly random things. A bag of the finest flour I could find, about as big as my head. A weighted billy club. A few pounds of oats and a small pot of honey. Flint, steel and tinder. A hooded cloak. A sledge hammer. A leather coin purse, which I filled full by trading a few gold pieces for coppers. An assortment of little glass jars of paint, in dark, deep colors. A few ounces of chocolate.

By that time, I was out of money. It wasn't all I'd like to be able to get, but it would have to do. If I couldn't raise an army, I'd have to make do with what I could pull off by myself. Underneath all the rest, all the aliases, the lies and the false identities and the Twist, I was still a geek, with the heart and the analytical mind of an engineer.

Never piss an engineer off. It will not end well.

The only real question was, north or south? I had to guess at that one, and in the end I decided to head south, to Ken'tu Kel's personal tower. If he had taken April and was holding her somewhere, he would want it to be at the place where other people who weren't in on it would be less likely to stumble across her. I hoped.

I loaded up my horse and set out for the tower as fast as it could go. I pushed it pretty hard, and it took a couple hours before the tower came into sight. It was huge, the largest wizard's tower I'd seen. It had to be twelve stories tall, massive around the base to support that much height, and appeared to be smooth-polished marble from the base to the roof. No way I'd be able to climb up that.

The nearest trees were almost a mile back. Too far to get close and sneak in undetected, at least easily, especially since there appeared to be someone on watch at the top of the tower. There were guards down at the base, and they had dogs. Well then, time for the old fallback. I hoped it would work this time.

"Good day, sir," I said to the guard nearest the door to the tower as I rode up. "I bear an important package for the Archmage, from his good friend Joseph Stalin."

The guard looked at me in silence for a few moments, then slowly nodded. "Very well. Come with me; I'll show you to him."

Wow! It's about time that one worked! I got off my horse and put my pack on, walking in behind the guard and looking around as furtively as I could, trying to take in everything. Trying to find where a prisoner might be kept. And trying to find a place that was free of guards, staff, apprentices, or anyone else who might see what I was about to do with the guard and the billy club I was concealing under my cloak. That's not really my style, ordinarily, but I was a bit short on options.

There were just too many people wandering about, though, and I had to do it quietly, without drawing suspicion. So I followed the guard as he led me up to the third floor before finding myself in an empty hallway for the first time. He walked a little bit faster now, and I moved up behind him, reaching my hand in under my cloak.

"Here he is, sir," the guard said, suddenly stopping beside a wooden door and pushing it open.

Inside was a bald man in a deep blue robe. "Ah, Paul. You're right on time. Bring him in."

Suddenly the guard grabbed me, painfully twisting my arm around behind my back and roughly shoving me forward, walking with me into the stone chamber. It was mostly bare, except for the dragon bones scattered across the floor, a stone pedestal off to one side holding a big, brilliantly cut sapphire glowing subtly with magical energy, and a wooden chair pushed up against one wall. There were no windows; a ball of magelight hovering up on the ceiling lit the room.

The guard pulled my pack off and tossed it in the corner, stripped me out of the hooded cloak, and then forced me into the chair, tying my hands behind my back. I tried to struggle, but he was bigger and stronger than me and had better leverage as well. "It was just as you said, Archmagus. He arrived here, pretending to be a messenger, trying to bluff his way in. Said he had a package for you from some man with an odd name."

OK, maybe I'm going to need a new distraction routine.

"Thank you, Charles," Ken'tu Kel said, and the guard walked out, closing the door behind him, leaving me alone with the wizard. "I did warn you. You should not have chosen to act against me."

"You made the first choice," I said. "I'm here for April. Release her, and I'll let you live."

The Archmage scoffed. "Spare me the bravado. There is nothing you can do now unless I will it. In truth there never has been, not since Fiona Khal showed up at your inn room."

"We'll see," I said. "So, what is it you want?"

"Oh, that should not be hard to guess. I merely want what everyone wants of you: I want you to use the Twist, one last time."

One last time? That didn't sound good. "And then you kill me?"

"Then you will finally go to see April." He gave me a chilling smile. "You and she have so many things in common, both wanderers, lost and marooned here, so far from your true homes. It is only right that you should share her fate."

"What do you know about that?"

"About the Stonelands? The world that drifted apart from our own in the days of myth? The world that has forgotten magic, considering it nothing more than children's tales? The world that set aside the path of magic, seeking power and knowledge down a different road entirely? The world that is supposed to be cut off from our own, and yet some very few do somehow make the crossing? I know a great deal about that."

He held up a hand, and the sapphire floated up off the pedestal, slowly moving towards me. "Such a shame," he said with an exaggerated sigh. "After what I had to give to convince you to let me take this off your hands... I must now place it back in them." The gemstone slowly flew up over my head, then a few moments later, I felt it pressing against my palm. I didn't know what his plan was, but I knew it wouldn't be good. I tried to push it away, to squirm out somehow, but Ken'tu Kel was in control of the gem, and it only took a brief moment before I felt the Twist.

And then I screamed. I thought I'd known pain when Sarah's curse rebounded onto me. That was like a mosquito bite. This was pain. Every nerve burned in agony. I writhed and arched my back and cried out, as whatever spell Ken'tu Kel had put into the sapphire burned through my body.

I don't know how long it took. It could have been seconds; it could have been hours. All I know is, it was horrible, it was agonizing... and it eventually stopped at some point. I felt, rather than heard, the sapphire hit the floor behind me as it slipped from my numb fingers. I tasted blood, and then felt it trickling from my nose. My mind was too fried to wonder how long it had been like that. I was shaking all over, and I couldn't stop. I looked up, and everything was blurry, but I saw a man. Something told me he was significant, but I didn't know why. His mouth was moving, but all I heard were indistinct, far-away sounds.

The man walked around behind me, then emerged from the other side, holding something very dark, that almost seemed to suck in the light around it. He slowly walked over and placed it atop a column of stone. There were... things... scattered all over the floor, things that cast shadows all wrong as the darkness given off by the thing on the top of the stone touched them.

Ken'tu Kel. The man had a name. He had an identity, a significance. My head was slowly beginning to clear. The words he was speaking were starting to become coherent again. I was still shaking.

"With enough energy and a proper link, any inherently magical being can be summoned. With enough energy, the gap between worlds can be bridged. But only with a truly monumental amount of energy can anything like this be attempted, to reunite that which has drifted apart."

Those words meant something. I still couldn't quite tell what, though. I saw him open a little pouch, reaching into it and pulling out some sparkling dust, which he carefully scattered in a circle around the dragon's skull and the pedestal.

"The one thing I do not have yet is the security of surety. And now, I will rectify that." He began to chant, holding his hands up, and the dragon skull began to glow. "By your name, I call you. By my power, I summon you. By this link to your mistress, I compel you. Syrixia, Golden Oracle, come forth!"

It just began to become clear to me what he was saying, right as I started to realize that he was not summoning Ryell at all, but rather someone that served her. The dragon's skull glowed brighter and brighter, and then it faded and there was a woman in the center of the circle.

She looked subtly wrong in many ways. Her skin was tinted an almost metallic golden color, she had long blonde hair flowing down her back, but no eyebrows or eyelashes, her eyes were a rich yellow in color, and she wore a long, shimmery green dress that clashed with the gold/yellow color scheme she seemed to have going everywhere else. I thought I could see the hints of fangs poking out below her top lip. She reminded me of something I had seen once before, if only my head would clear.

"These creatures are not bred nor born as you or I," the wizard said, "but grown, like plants, seeded by the dragon's own tears, their nurturing soil her own shed scales. They are extensions of herself, that she uses to expand her power and her influence." The golden woman looked a little bit dazed, but as she began to realize that she was somewhere far from where she had just been, she looked between me and Ken'tu Kel with mounting horror. "And now, this one will tell me the last thing I need to know."

Golden Oracle. That meant something. That meant... my eyes widened a little. That meant that the dragon really could see into the future! Or she had a pet-Conduit-person-thing that could do it for her. Or something. I quickly tensed every muscle in my body at once, forcing a quick shot of adrenaline into my system, and my head began to clear, my mind started to focus again. Something still felt wrong with my body, but I couldn't tell what, aside from my hands being tied behind my back.

The Oracle, Syrixia, screamed in rage, holding out her hands and trying to blast Ken'tu Kel with a bolt of magic. It splashed harmlessly against an invisible barrier that seemed to emanate upwards from the floor where the circle had been drawn. Ken'tu Kel responded with a bolt of his own, directed at the dragon skull. Apparently his magic could cross the circle; it hit and made the skull glow red, and suddenly the woman shrieked and fell to her knees, clutching her head in agony.

When she stopped screaming long enough to gasp for breath, the Archmage gave her his most malevolent look. "Now, if you will calm yourself, Syrixia, I have a simple question to ask."

She slowly stood, fists clenched at her sides. "My answers are for my Mistress alone."

"If that were true, you would not be standing here. Your Mistress holds no power in this place; I do. Her time has come, her power wanes. I am ascendant. I seek to reunite the worlds, to bring the enlightenment of magic to the Drift, and the knowledge and learning of that world's advanced technology to our own."

The oracle looked at him, hatred in her expression. "What you seek is forbidden. The worlds were parted for a wise purpose."

Ken'tu Kel scowled. "The wisdom of a slaver, seeking to keep all the world helpless under her dominion." Well, that was news to me. Ryell had been the one who broke the worlds apart? Or had at least had some part in it? And Ken'tu Kel's evil plan was... to put them back together? That really didn't seem like such a bad thing. It would sure make it easier for me to get home, for one!

He held up his hands and blasted the dragon skull with another bolt of magical energy, making the oracle scream and clutch her head again. The Oracle whimpered, her amber eyes looking up at him pleadingly, but Ken'tu Kel stared back into her eyes. "I am the only Master here," he said coldly. "Tell me what I want to know. What will be the outcome, if I proceed with my plan?"

She glanced at me--looking into me, it seemed, for a brief moment--then sighed and closed her eyes resignedly. "Nations of the Drift I see trembling before you," she whispered, her voice bitter with defeat, "and all who learn of you will fear. Your magic will utterly wreck and ruin the mighty technology of the Stonelands when it is brought to bear against you, and no warrior of this world, nor of the Drift, will have the ability to stand against you." She began to weep bitterly at the violation of being forced to serve him like that.

The archmage's lips curled upward in a truly ghastly smile, and he held his hands high above his head. A third bolt of energy flew forth and struck the dragon's skull, and suddenly there was a brilliant flash of light, and the Oracle vanished entirely. The wizard looked way too smug; he didn't seem at all worried to hear that people would not welcome his deeds with gratitude and open arms. So, Ken'tu Kel didn't just mean to reunite the worlds, but probably to attempt to dominate them somehow. And that did worry me.

So I did what comes natural when I'm worried: I started to mouth off to him. Sometimes, I just don't know when to shut up. The bright thing to do would be to not antagonize him at this point. But ever since I first stepped into that tavern to meet with the man who turned out to be a representative of Ryell, I'd been getting jerked around by people bigger, tougher, and better-informed than me, and I was sick of it. And now, for the first time, I suddenly realized that I was the one with the important knowledge that my opponents didn't have. So guess what I did next?

"You know, back in the Drift, there's an ancient kingdom by the name of Scotland. The Scots are famous for four things: a sausage called 'haggis' that is so disgusting that its very name is proverbial for 'inedible food' throughout the rest of the world, a bagpipe whose wail is so harsh it has been used as a weapon of war, warriors so strong that they invented a sporting competition to see who could throw a tree trunk the farthest, and engineers so brilliant that they're referred to as 'miracle workers' by their comrades."

He gave me a patronizing look. "Is this going somewhere?"

I shot back my cockiest grin. "The bards tell that a long time ago, there was a minor lord in Scotland by the name of Macbeth. He was one of the strongest warriors in the land, and as our tale begins he was just returning from a great battle, in which he had slain many of the King's enemies and put their army down. But before he could return to the king to give his report, he was accosted by three witches, oracles. They prophesied to him that as he was now a lord, he would be made a greater lord with stronger holdings, and one day become king of all Scotland.

"When he returned to the king, the king was happy with the job he had done, and he rewarded him with greater holdings, just as the witches had prophesied. And something dark took root in Macbeth's heart. He decided he would become king of all Scotland, one way or another, and so he rose up and slew the king, and claimed the crown for his own.

"He sought out the witches again for advice, and they again prophesied to him, saying King Macbeth's reign could never fail until the forest at the bottom of the hill that his castle stood atop should climb the hill to the castle itself. They told him that no man of woman born could defeat Macbeth in battle. And yet they warned him, beware of Macduff.

"Now Macduff, he was a mighty Scottish warrior, too, but he also had the mind of an engineer. When he saw problems before him, he sought out interesting and insightful ways to solve them. He saw that Macbeth was a tyrant and a usurper, and he gathered an army to oppose him. But he didn't wish for Macbeth and his men to know their numbers, so they made their way through the woods, and when they came to the edge, he had every man cut off a large, leafy branch to hold in front of them to disguise their strength."

The older mage just watched and listened, one eyebrow raised, as I recounted the tale. A hint of a sneer began to tug at the corners of his mouth as he started to see where this was going.

"One of Macbeth's watchmen saw the army climbing the hill, and he didn't know what he was seeing. So he reported to the king that it seemed the wood itself was moving up the hill towards the castle. The king fell into a rage and took his sword, and called for every man in his guard to defend the castle. But Macduff's men burst in and the battle was joined.

"It seemed Macbeth was everywhere, striking down the invaders one after another with his mighty sword. But in the end, he was confronted by Macduff himself, and their swords clashed. Macbeth hurled insults against him, telling him that he led a charmed life, and could never be slain by any man of woman born. But then Macduff just laughed at him and said--"

"Despair. Thy. Charm." I looked up, startled, as the words fell, slowly and deliberately, from Ken'tu Kel's lips. Then I realized that his lips were moving in perfect time with the words I was hearing. A shiver went down my spine as it all became clear: Somehow, he was actually quoting Shakespeare, and speaking English! "And let the angel whom thou still hast served tell thee, Macduff was from his mother's womb untimely ripped." A truly frightening grin crept across his face. "Yes, Macbeth was always one of my favorites. But I have no Lady whispering poison in my ear, and this prophecy comes with no warning saying 'beware of Paul Cameron.'" He sneered and held out his hand, then muttered something arcane, and a piece of folded leather appeared atop his palm. He walked over to me and opened it up, and I recognized it as a wallet.

He pulled out and showed to me a few dollars in cash, a bank card, and a state ID card under the name of "Kenneth Twitchell." That last one startled me the most: it was from Washington, and the address on it was in Seattle, less than a mile from where I had lived. His birthday was listed as June 22... that was my birthday! "Did you think that the crossing of worlds only worked in one direction? And if it did, would it truly be from the one that lacks magic to the one that has it? I have lived among you, learned your ways and your secrets. For nearly twenty long years I studied the Stonelands, its culture, its politics, its technology... and its utter ignorance of magic.

"I know your world is ruled by fearful and weak men, contemptible people who care only for their own power, who oppress mankind just as the dragons do here. They force their will upon the populace by the strength of arms, terrible things made possible by the studies of your scientists.

"The gun, the airplane, the helicopter, the bomb, the tank, the nuclear warhead. All these things could wreak great devastation upon our world, or your own, in the chaos that would be sure to ensue when they learn that they are not alone, when their children's tales step out of the pages of storybooks and seek to treat with them as equals, bearing magic that is fearful and unfamiliar. But I have studied and researched, sought to learn and devise counters to each of these horrors. I only lacked two things, a certainty that my countermeasures would be effective, and a power source great enough to undo what the dragons have done, and return our world to its proper course alongside your own. And now, I have both. There is nothing I am not prepared for."

I glowered at him, breathing deeply, trying to finally shake off the last effects of whatever the sapphire had done to me. It was sitting there on the pedestal, still glowing with its horribly wrong black inverse-glow thing. "How do I fit into all of that?" I asked. Keep him talking, and maybe he'd say something useful. He may have studied our culture, but apparently he hasn't watched enough movies to learn not to monologue. I finally started to feel steady, the shaking wearing off, and I started wiggling my fingers, feeling around, testing at the ropes.

"You don't," he said. "But this does." He gestured at the sapphire. "The hole in the world that you have been carrying around with you ever since you were caught up in the wake of my return home. Ten long years I have searched for you, and for your counterpart, the one who took my place when I first left."

"April," I said, as it started to make sense. Except April hadn't been here for thirty years; she'd been around for centuries. Then I thought back to what Hill had said. Long-lived, but growing old. It made me wonder exactly how many years she had aged by... and what I'd find the date to be if I somehow got back home tomorrow. "When you left..." I said, thinking aloud, trying to remember what little I'd learned of magical theory, to make sense of some of it. "Something needed to balance you out? So it plucked her from her home, pulled her back across? Somehow imbued her with a great deal of magic, to make up for what had left?"

He nodded slowly. "And when I returned, she had grown far too rooted in this world to be pulled back across so easily." He grinned at me. "It is quite a fascinating concept your scientists have invented, the idea of negative numbers. That is what became of you. The burden laid upon you was to balance the equation."

I looked at the sapphire again, the way it seemed to suck in light. A hole in the world, he called it. A negative number to counter an excess of magic. "So you stole the Twist from me? You're holding it in there?"

"You should be grateful. I have relieved you of your burden. Now you can live a normal life... what remains of it."

I was starting to work up a full head of steam now. "And you stole April's power as well, didn't you? You're planning to... what? Mix them together?" As I spoke the words, I understood. Like matter and antimatter. Mix two extreme opposites and release enough magical power to alter the course of a world. Well, I wasn't about to stand for it. Bringing the worlds together, that I could get behind, but doing so with the callous attitude of a tyrant? Over my dead body! "Well, there's still one thing you're not prepared for." I grinned up at him as I pulled the last knot loose behind my back.

"And what is that?"

"Me." I stood up, letting the ropes fall to the ground, then sprang at him, bringing my knee up, trying to catch him either in the groin or the gut. I managed the latter, driving my knee deep into the pit of his stomach, and I brought one hand around his back, delivering a vicious kidney-punch with all my strength. Which wasn't much at the moment, sure, but it didn't need to be; that's basically the second most painful place you can hit a guy.

Ken'tu Kel collapsed to the ground. I scuffed the line of powder with my boot, breaking the circle. I grabbed the dark sapphire, then dashed over to snatch up my pack, and then I was out the door. I had to get away, and quickly.

I heard the sound of gongs clashing, reverberating up and down the halls. An alarm! This wasn't good! I hadn't expected Ken'tu Kel to recover that quickly. I was about to head down the stairs, back the way I had come, but I heard boots coming from that direction, so I turned and ran the other way, trying to find another way down.

"Ryell," I murmured, holding the sapphire up by my mouth, "if you're listening, if this thing still works... do something!"

Nothing happened. Figures. The boots were coming closer.

Suddenly a door to the side opened, and a guard stepped out. He gut-checked me against the stone wall, and I fumbled the sapphire, dropping it.

"Get the stone!" Ken'tu Kel wheezed, emerging from the room a ways behind me.

I reached up and grabbed the guard's head, pushing as hard as I could, cracking it against the stone wall. He looked all dazed, and I tripped him. He went down in a heap. I crouched, grabbed the sapphire, then got up and made a run for it.

All I could find were stairs going up, but that was still better than nothing. I dashed up them, looked around... and saw my salvation. Off to the left, just a little bit down the corridor, was an open door to a room that looked very familiar. Gerald had one just like it, and I'd seen it in his tower while we were there. A teleportation chamber. Now that the Twist was no longer a part of me, I could use it to escape.

I just needed to keep pursuit off for a few brief moments. Guards were coming, from both sides it sounded like. But with the Twist gone... I could probably pull it off.

I reached into my pack and pulled out the sack of flour, ripping it open and dumping it on the floor. Then I pulled out the whirlwind focus and squeezed it just so.

I started coughing as flour blew up into the air, creating a thick, choking cloud of dust. Holding my sleeve over my mouth, I turned and ran into the teleportation room. There was a circle drawn on the floor, and a table that held a faintly glowing quartz crystal. There were several holes drilled in the table, and runes inscribed next to each one.

One of the sets of runes looked familiar: I'd seen it carved on the lintel over the entrance to O'Neill Manor. I quickly slipped the crystal into the corresponding hole, then reached into my pack for one last thing.

"He's in there!" I heard men running, coming closer, then coughing and choking on the dust of all the flour in the air. I couldn't have them following too quickly after I escaped, though; I had to buy at least a few precious seconds.

There's really only one difference between a fire and an explosion: the speed. And the greater the surface area of the fuel, the more quickly it can mix with the air, the faster it will burn.

The air just outside the room was thick with flammable dust. I grabbed a handful of flints and hurled them as hard as I could at the doorway, then dove for the teleportation circle as the winds caught the flints, knocking them against the stone walls of the tower, striking sparks. I heard just the very beginning of a detonation, and then I was somewhere else entirely.

23: The Worth Of Trust

Chapter 23
The Worth Of Trust

"HILL!" I screamed at the top of my lungs, as I emerged in a room similar to the one I had just left, but subtly different. There was still a teleportation circle on the floor, and a table nearby. The room's dimensions were about the same, but the walls were wood, not stone, and the door was set in a different wall. And there was no exploding flour-storm just outside the door.

"PATRICK!" I cried out again, getting to my feet, making for the door and hoping I was in the right place. If not, I was in a great deal of trouble.

Someone came running. A woman in simple clothes; she looked like some sort of servant. "Is Patrick Hill here?" I asked.

She nodded wordlessly, looking a little bit freaked out by seeing a bloody and battered youth emerge screaming from the teleportation chamber. But she nodded. That was good; it meant I was in the right place. About time something went right for me today!

"I need you to bring him this instant. And any other magic-users who may be around. It's urgent." In fact, it might be a good idea to turn the urgency up to 11. "Tell him Paul Twister is here, looking for him."

The servant blanched and turned, running off down the hallway. It wasn't long before I heard footsteps returning, and I heard Hill's voice preceeding him. He sounded like someone doing their best to remain forcibly calm and patient while under stress. "I don't know what you think you saw, Martha," he said, "but Paul Twister cannot emerge from a teleportation chamber. It's simply impossible. I'll show you."

He and the serving woman rounded the corner. I looked over at him. "Hello, Patrick."

The look on his face was almost worth all the crap I'd been through so far that day. Almost. "Paul? How?"

"No time. I need to know, can you block off this chamber, so nobody can teleport in?"

"Yes, but why--"

"Do it now, or we're both dead."

That got his attention. I stepped aside and he quickly ran through the doorway and cast some sort of spell. The circle on the floor, which had been drawn in bright red, suddenly went black. Then he took the quartz crystal on the control table, and inserted it into one of the holes. "All right, Paul, what's this all about?"

Martha, the servant, looked around the doorframe a bit nervously. "You know Paul Twister, Master Hill?" If I was cleaned up a little better, some of the servants may have recognized me as "Clark Kent," who had been a guest in the manor a few days ago, but of course no one here knew me by this name.

He nodded. "It's a long story. For the moment, he's a guest of the manor."

Martha seemed willing to accept that, and she left. Hill looked over at me. "I take it things didn't go well?"

"Ken'tu Kel knew I was coming."

His eyes narrowed. "I assure you, I never--"

"No, I don't think you sold me out; it was part of his plan all along. He needed me to come back, alone, so he could steal my power." I gave him a brief explanation of what the Archmagus had revealed.

"So then, April..." he just let the question hang there.

"Almost certainly stripped of her power. Quite possibly dead as well, before I ever even got there." I closed my eyes and hung my head, sighing heavily. "I'm sorry."

"But the message..." The usually-composed bard seemed to be having trouble forming complete sentences.

"I don't know. Maybe April made a mistake. Maybe she didn't know enough about the plan. Or maybe she wasn't actually the one who sent it in the first place. Right now, all bets are off. The only advantage we have is that I got the stone back."

Hill nodded. "Where?"

Oops. It must have fallen from my hands when I hit the ground, but I looked around and didn't see it anywhere. "Oh... no," I whispered as it hit me. The stone contained the raw, distilled essence of the Twist itself. Of course I wouldn't have been able to carry it through a teleport; I was lucky it didn't end up depositing me in the middle of a mountain somewhere. "All right, we don't have the stone. Ken'tu Kel may or may not have it. It may or may not have ruined his teleportation chamber. If it did, the effect was likely to be temporary. Either way, we need to leave. It's very likely that this manor will come under attack in the very near future."

"Leave? Where will we go?"

"We need to regroup," I said, "and there's really only one place I can think of where we would be safe. There's a tower for magical research at Stark Academy. Can you target the teleportation chamber to there?"

He glanced at the table for a few moments, then nodded. "It's listed."

"And can you arrange that no one will be able to find where we went afterwards?"

"That will take some doing. Do you think we have an hour?"

"I hope so. In the meantime, can you show me to your mirror?"

Hill blinked slightly. "The one that Ken'tu Kel can almost certainly listen in on?"

I grinned. "The one that I just gave him a few other, more urgent things to focus on rather than listening in on it."

"I hope so," he echoed me. "All right, this way."

* * *

"Mirror, Mirror, on the wall, for Gerald Wolf's aid I do call." The mirror swirled with cloudy patterns for almost an entire minute before resolving into the Archmage's face. "Patrick? Paul? What is it?"

"No time to talk, Gerald," I said. "If April O'Neil is not dead already, she may well be very soon, and our entire world is in danger. I need your help. If you believe you owe any debt to me, or to her, for any good that either of us have done, for you or for the world, meet me in one hour at Stark Academy."

He nodded solemnly. "I'll come. Is there anything you need?"

"Bring all your best magic. There's gonna be a fight. A big one."

"I'll be there." He waved at the mirror, dissipating the conversation.

Hill looked at me strangely. "How did you come to build such trust in an Archmage, that he will blindly follow a request like that with no questions?"

I grinned at him. "Gerald's famous for Germ Theory. He says April helped him spread the concept around."

Hill nodded. "She spoke of it once or twice with me. Strange ideas, but apparently there's some truth to them."

"Well, I gave him the basic idea. It's not considered strange in the Stonelands; it's something we've taken for granted for hundreds of years."

His eyes widened. "Then why not disseminate the theory yourself? Surely that would bring you renown and wealth with much less risk than a life of burglary! It won Wolf a tower and a high position in the Circle."

I gave him a wry smile. "It's something we've taken for granted for hundreds of years. Only healers and specialized scholars actually study it in any depth; I have about as solid an understanding of the theoretical concepts as... as Sarah might have of principles of magic, when she was five years old."

I could almost see the light go on in his head. "And Stark Academy is the same way?"

"Exactly. I have a very shallow understanding of a great many very deep subjects, so I need actual scholars and craftsmen to develop the simple ideas into useful designs."

"And will the scholars and craftsmen there trust you enough to help establish a war camp?"

He didn't know what I was planning, but I didn't have time to explain. "They'll have to," was all I said.

He nodded. "All right. I need to make preparations." He called for the steward of the manor and told him to round up the guards and get their assistance in evacuating everyone.

"And what of the Young Mistress?" the steward asked, looking a bit nervous about the topic.

Hill shook his head. "She's coming with me. Avoid her."

"As you say, sir." He headed off.

I shot him a look. "Something bad again today? What is she this time? Half-troll?"

"Worse," he said, a very serious expression clouding his features. "Half-nymph."

I let out a low whistle.

"Watch yourself around her," he warned.

I took a step back. "Surely you don't think that I would--"

"I think that she would."

"And you'd still be angry at me."

He nodded. "We understand each other."

"Well, I think I'll be a bit too busy for any such distractions. And besides, it would be like taking advantage of a drunken girl."

He looked just a bit impressed when I said that. "You're a better man than many, if you see that as a thing to avoid."

I didn't quite know what to say to that. I looked over at him, and saw the dark circles under his eyes. "How are you holding up?"

He gave me a very frank look. "I'm a screaming, gibbering mess inside. But that can wait. We have work to do."

No way that was healthy, but on the other hand, he was right. It could wait, because it had to. He gave me various tasks to take care of, fetching some things, destroying others, helping some of the staff get on their way. All the while, he was preparing what seemed like it was going to be some sort of magical time bomb. He wasn't planning on disabling the teleporter; he was going to bring the entire manor down after we left!

Once the hour was up, it was just me and Hill. And Sarah, but I hadn't seen her yet. He went to get her, and came back a few minutes later, with his daughter in tow.

Wow! I could see why he felt he needed to warn me!

Sarah looked more or less like she had when I saw her before--minus the feline features, of course--but... more. I'd thought she was kind of cute before, but this time... it was hard to put a finger on what exactly was different. She looked essentially the same; maybe she was a little bit curvier, maybe her facial features were a little finer, maybe it was just the way she walked, but whatever it was, it was real subtle. But apparently it really didn't take much to push her across the line from "cute" to "hot."

The biggest change, though, was in her attitude. Where before she had been friendly but kind of shy... today she was not shy at all. "Ooo! Daddy! You didn't tell me Paul was here!" She gave a playful giggle and walked quickly over to me, putting her arms around me before I could react and pressing her soft body against me in a way-too-affectionate hug. "What brings you by our humble home?" she whispered.

It felt good. A little too good. I gave Hill my best wide-eyed panicky look over Sarah's shoulder, and tried to gently push her away. "You probably shouldn't touch me," I said.

She grinned at me and stepped back. "I guess," she giggled. "I wouldn't want to turn you into a nymph too!"

Even if I still had the Twist, and it backfired in exactly the same way as before, I sort of wondered if that would actually change much of anything. I already had the hormones of a teenager, afterall! Come to think of it, I'd never actually heard of a male nymph, so I really had no idea what the outcome would be. I was just glad it couldn't happen to me.

Poor Hill was lagging several feet behind, dragging a couple of heavy-looking suitcases. That must have been a headache all its own over the last few weeks, especially if Sarah's transformations caused her size to change from day to day!

Argh! No! Stop picturing Sarah as She-Hulk! Stupid teenage hormones!

"You need help with those?" I asked, walking down the hall towards Patrick. He nodded gratefully, and I lugged one of the suitcases back over to the entrance to the chamber. It was even heavier than it looked.

Sarah was looking around, confused. "Where is everyone, Daddy?" she asked. "Everything's so quiet..."

"I sent then away," he said. "We have to leave here too. Your mother is in some very serious trouble, and it's not safe here. Paul's going to help us try and set things right."

She looked worried. "Where are we going?"

"To a little town near Keliar. He's got some friends there."

Her eyes widened. "Keliar! That's not even in the kingdom! What about my friends?"

I put a hand on her shoulder, trying to calm her. "You're in danger here. If you have friends here, leave them behind; it would hurt them really badly if you ended up getting hurt or killed."

"Killed?" She tensed up, looking even more nervous. "You'll protect me, right?" she asked, pulling me into another one of those way-too-nice hugs and clinging tight to me.

"Isn't that my job?" her father asked, sounding just a little bit annoyed.

"Sarah, please calm down. I'm going to get you to safety, and then I'm going to go after the people who are putting you in danger."

She nodded, relaxing a little, still leaning against me. "Who is it?" she asked.

Hill looked over at me, shaking his head a little, but I figured the girl had the right to know. "It's Ken'tu Kel. He betrayed your mother, and me as well."

She took a step back, looking severely shaken by that. "Uncle Kel? But he's Mom's best friend! How could he do that?"

"Uncle?" I gave Hill a questioning look.

"A nickname," he reassured me. "Come on, it's time to go." He beckoned, and we followed.

Hill prepared whatever it was he needed to finish up to get his scorched-earth spell ready, then reactivated the teleport chamber and slotted the crystal in one of the holes. He and I each grabbed a heavy suitcase, and I put on my pack and picked up my lute, which I'd left at the manor for safekeeping. Hill took Sarah's hand in his free hand, and the three of us stepped into the circle.

It looked like Gerald Wolf had arrived ahead of us. He was there waiting, talking with three confused-looking wizards who were probably wondering what an Archmage was doing teleporting in unannounced. They looked up when they saw me. "Ah, Mr. Stark!" one of them said.

"Where?" Gerald asked, looking around a little.

Hill actually smiled for the first time that day. "He doesn't know?"

"Know what?" Gerald asked. Then he scowled a little, looking back and forth between Hill and myself. "Bah! You scoundrel! 'Oh, yes, I've met Mr. Stark, and he's quite the good fellow actually.' I should have known!" He laughed, his belly shaking, his eyes twinkling with mirth.

"Please hold this in the strictest confidence," I said, then walked over and clapped him on the shoulder. It was good to see him again.

"What is this all about?" one of the researchers asked, looking even more puzzled.

"I'm sorry for dropping in unannounced," I said. "I've been working with the Circle a little, and we've found ourselves in a bit of a tight spot. I need you to close down this teleporter, and show me and the Archmage to a summoning circle. I assume you have one?"

He nodded, and they sprang to work disabling the teleport chamber. Gerald, Patrick, Sarah and I followed one of the researchers out and down a floor (which I was grateful for; we still had the suitcases, and lugging them up a level would have been painful) and into a windowless room not unlike the one I'd been held in by Ken'tu Kel. There was a permanent circle inscribed on the floor, seemingly made of gold, with silver inlays all over, describing various runes.

"What's this all about, Pa--Anthony?" Wolf asked. "You need to summon something?"

I nodded. "It's a matter of prophecy. Our enemy consulted an oracle, and no warrior of this world can harm him."

Gerald saw where this was going, and scowled at me. "No, no, that will never work. You expect me to just summon up your friend the paladin?"

Hill's eyes widened at that. "You have a friend among the Celestial Paladins?"

Gerald laughed again. "It seems all of us have things we don't know today!"

I sat down and pulled my boot off, then pulled out a knife and started working the heel loose. "That's exactly what I expect. With enough energy and a proper link, any inherently magical being can be summoned, correct? Well, I have a link to her." I pulled out the feather she had given me.

"Ooo!" Sarah grinned. "The angel gave you one of her feathers? That's a token of true love!"

Hill scoffed. "Silly romantic tales, nothing more."

I smirked at him as I was getting my boot back on. "This from a bard?" And thanks a lot for crushing my hopes like that!

Gerald didn't seem to like the plan. "I really have no assurance that this will work," he said cautiously, though I could see in his eyes he wanted to use much stronger words than that.

I nodded. "But I have an assurance that if we don't even try, it definitely won't work. I once heard a renowned archer say 'you miss every shot that you never take.' This one is worth taking."

"Well, with that feather, it will be possible. Difficult, but it can be done."

The researcher from the academy looked at us. "Can someone please explain what is going on?"

Everyone looked at me. Of course. "It's a long story, but the short version is, the Archmagus of the Circle, Ken'tu Kel, has turned renegade, and he's preparing for something that will cause inestimable harm to our entire world."

Gerald's eyes widened. "The dragon skull..." he mused, "and... you gave him the stone, didn't you?" He shook his head and let out his breath slowly. "Gods, spirits and demons! Suddenly I'm not worried about this not working; I'm worried it won't be enough!"

I nodded. "It won't be all. I came here for a reason. But first, we need to summon her."

"Do you have anything else that might help? The feather can form a link, but it's still not much to go by."

I thought about it for a moment. "When we parted ways," I mused, "she gave me what she called another gift, a promise of a favor owed at a future point. Is that helpful at all?"

"A promise! That's amazingly helpful, actually! With that, I might just be able to do it." He turned and asked the researcher to bring in some more wizards, to assist with the ritual.

The man left, and came back a few minutes later with four comrades in tow. Sarah, Patrick and I stood back as the six mages stood around the circle. Gerald placed the feather in the center of the circle, and the six of them all raised their hands over their heads. Gerald began the invocation. "By a favor owed, we call you to repay your debt. By your feather freely given, we bind you. By your name, we summon you. Aylwyn, Paladin of the Celestial Realm, come forth!"

Light began to fill the room, building slowly. A lot more slowly, in fact, than when Ken'tu Kel had performed a similar summoning. After a whole minute had passed, it was still gradually building. "Is it working?" I asked.

Gerald grunted. "She's resisting, or something's holding her."

"We need her!"

He nodded, and sweat began to trickle down his face as he apparently started to "pull" harder, or whatever it was he was doing. The other wizards looked about the same, each of them sweating and making strained faces, as if exerting themselves heavily. The light did continue to grow brighter, though, and after almost five minutes, it finally flashed so brightly that I had to close my eyes. And then the light went out, and I heard a scream of anger and frustration.

"NO!" Aylwyn yelled. "Gerald Wolf, what have you done?"

He took a step back, even though he had a summoning circle in between himself and the furious angel. "Paul said it was urgent, that you owed him a favor and he needed to call it in immediately."

I could see the other wizards looking back and forth at each other, mouthing the word "Paul?" as if asking if any of them knew what was going on.

She looked over at me, righteous fury burning in her eyes. "Your timing could not have been worse. I found that Ken'tu Kel was the man I was after, and he is preparing a ritual whose effect will be catastrophic! I was right on the verge of calling forth a legion of angels to upset his plans, when you had these men drag me away in chains, as it were. What could possibly be more important?"

I gave her a sheepish look. "Umm... I needed your help to confront Ken'tu Kel, because he got an oracle to tell him that no warrior of this world would be able to stand against him."

She snarled at me. "I should have known you would be mixed up in all this. Chaos follows in your wake, Paul--"

"I know, I know," I said, cutting her off before she could finish the name. "And I'm sorry. If I had known you were already involved..."

"But you didn't, and you meddled once again. And now the entire world will bear the price of it. Where are we now?"

"Stark Academy, in Tem's Falls."

The angel's eyes widened. "How did you come so far, so quickly? That means he is a week's journey away, and the ritual will be ready tomorrow. Even if I rode Wyntaf to death, I could not arrive in time." She sank down to the floor, despair written all over her face. "All is lost now."

24: A Father's Greatest Fear

Chapter 24
A Father's Greatest Fear

I stepped across the circle and crouched down, offering Aylwyn my hand. "Please," I said, "come with me. I can set this right."

"How?" she snapped at me.

"First, we need to share information, bring everyone up to speed. Please, come with me. I have an office here."

"You do? How?"

I shook my head slightly at her. "I travel under the name of Paul Cameron," I said to her, emphasizing the name, "to avoid notoriety, but here I am known as Anthony Stark."

"The Stark of Stark Academy? That is you, Paul... Cameron?"

I gestured to one of the researchers, and he nodded. "That's him, m'lady Paladin," he said, "though he normally wears a beard. And to be honest I've never heard of Paul Cameron before."

I grinned at him. "I just said it's an assumed name, to avoid notoriety. That's how you know it works!"

He looked a bit nonplussed at my "tiger-repellent logic," but there wasn't much he could say against it, so he held his peace.

I slowly rose to my feet, extending a hand to Aylwyn again and placing my foot across the circle. "Please, come with me."

"Very well," she said, looking a little sullen. She took my hand and I led her back out of the circle--the physical connection to me permitted her to cross it, and as the circle was permanent, that was the only way to do it--and I brought her, Gerald, Hill and Sarah out of the tower and across to the administration building.

Gerald laughed a little when he saw what was carved over the door. "If only I'd been here, seen that," he said, "I would have known at once it was your work!"

"Evan!" I called out as we entered.

The administrator came out of his office, looking a bit surprised at my entourage. "Mr. Stark! Who are your guests?"

"You remember Patrick Hill, of the Bards' College? He came by to visit a few weeks back?" Tranton nodded. "And this is his lovely daughter Sarah." She beamed when I said that, her cheeks flushing just a little. "And Archmage Gerald Wolf, and Aylwyn of the Celestial Paladins."

"And what brings such... illustrious guests to our academy?" he asked, looking just a little nervous.

"An important conference," I said. "I need to not be disturbed." Evan nodded slowly. "And I'll need my vault key, when we're done."

"Very well, sir. I'll have it waiting. Will there be anything else? Another dream of yours, perhaps?"

I shook my head. "Not at the moment. I'll let you know, though, if something comes up."

"As you say." He headed back to his office, and I led everyone else to mine, scavenging a few chairs from other offices along the way. Hopefully they wouldn't be missed before we were done here.

Aylwyn was the first to speak, once we all got in and closed the door. "How many names do you have?"

I shrugged. "Enough for my purposes. And the one that you all know, unfortunately, isn't valid anymore."

"What do you mean?"

"Ken'tu Kel stole the Twist from me. He called it 'a hole in the world,' and he used magic to tear it out of me and seal the power inside a gemstone. I believe it figures prominently in the ritual you were referring to, Aylwyn."

"He had two stones in his possession," Aylwyn confirmed. "One highly charged with magical energy, the other dark, severely so, with the essence of darkness seeming almost to emanate from it."

Hill clenched his teeth when he heard that. "The other one is my wife's," he said.

"Your wife?"

I nodded. "Patrick is the husband of April O'Neil."

Aylwyn looked at Sarah a bit oddly. "And April is a nymph?" Apparently she could just tell somehow.

"No; she's as human as I am. But that's another story. It seems that Ken'tu Kel stole the magical essence from both of us, because we're counterparts. We have something very important in common."

Gerald asked "and what is that?" at the same moment that Aylwyn said "she is of the Drift too, then?"

Everyone turned to look at her. "How could you know that?" I asked.

The angel shrugged. "It was obvious. When you speak of your home--when you speak truthfully of it--you speak of cultures, lands, songs, things that are no part of this world. Your mouth moves when you speak, but your lips do not match your words. And now you figure prominently in this disastrous plan to reunite this world with the Drift."

Gerald looked a bit stunned. "You're saying the Drift is a real place? Not simply a fable? And Ken'tu Kel wants to restore it?"

I nodded. "He's visited my home, and the magical imbalances created by his transit there and back ended up pulling two people across. And now he wants to somehow bring the worlds together again, and I wouldn't ordinarily think that was a bad thing, but the course he has chosen is likely to lead to great horrors, warfare on a worldwide scale."

"So then all of this knowledge that you've shared..."

Wow, it was like deja vu all over again. "Scraps of things I learned, growing up on another world. I couldn't do much with them myself, because I'm not a proper researcher or craftsman; just a geek with a head full of random bits of knowledge and trivia."

He cocked his head to the side a little. "What is a geek?"

I didn't know if tha word would translate or not. "It's... a term we have, back home. It means a person who values knowledge and learning for its own sake, who's more concerned with enriching their mind, with learning new and interesting things, than with other pursuits that other people consider more practical."

Gerald laughed. "I suppose that makes me one as well, then!"

Sarah smiled brightly and nodded her head. "Then I'm a geek too!" I could think of plenty of guys back home whose hearts would have soared, if they could see and hear her say that.

"As amusing as this all is," Aylwyn said, a bit of an edge to her voice, "I fail to see how it helps us, when Ken'tu Kel is a week away."

I opened a drawer of my desk, and pulled out a map of the kingdom. Trying to think back to the map I had seen in the basement of O'Neil Manor, I pointed to a spot. "Patrick, is this where the second circle was?"

He looked, then nodded. "A bit to the west, but you're close enough."

I looked at Aylwyn. "Is this where he is, then?"

"You knew all this already?" she asked.

"I'll take that as a yes. What's there?"

Gerald looked over and said, "That's the site of an abandoned Wizard's Tower. The mage who lived there was a warlock, a demon summoner. He was overthrown by the Circle a few years ago, his tower declared forfeit, but we've never gotten around to finding a new owner to claim it."

I wasn't even going to try asking how he managed to transport the sapphire containing the Twist that far that quickly. "I see."

Aylwyn nodded grimly. "And you see that it is two hundred miles from here! And Ken'tu Kel will almost certainly have ordered any towers in the vicinity to deactivate their teleports. There is no way to reach them in time. You ruined the only chance, Paul Twister!"

I looked into her eyes. "Are you... afraid?"

She scowled. "Yes, I am afraid! The world I have sworn to uphold and protect is in grave danger. Two worlds are, and perhaps my own as well! Yes, for the first time in my life, I am afraid! Fear has always been a stranger to me; I know not his face nor his name, but now he calls to me... and I do not know how to answer."

"Good. I wouldn't want you helping out on this if you weren't. Anyone who can face news like this and not be afraid isn't right in the head." I looked around. "Anyone here who isn't?"

No one answered.

"All right. Anyone here want to give in to the fear, let it turn into despair, and end up giving up and doing nothing?"

I looked around, and everyone shook their heads. Aylwyn didn't look convinced, though. "Then what do you propose to do? He is simply too far away."

I sighed slowly and nodded. "I need some alcohol."

Hill looked at me oddly. "As much as we could all use a drink right about now, weren't you the one just talking about not--"

"No, no, not liquor. I need a liquid that flows freely and burns hot and clean, of a high grade of purity and in large quantities."

Gerald nodded slowly. "I'm sure a facility dedicated to research would have some on hand, but what good will making a big fire do?"

"I'll show you." I walked over and opened the door. I retrieved my vault key from Evan, and asked him to round up every drop of high-purity alcohol we had on the premises and bring it to the stables, then I walked with my companions over that way. "We don't have magic in the Drift," I said. "To compensate, we've developed some immense advances in technology. We don't have magic mirrors, so we created devices that transmit words and images across long-distance wires, carrying messages encoded as pulses of the Force Electric. We don't have healing magic, so we developed vast stores of knowledge of germs, of anatomy and biology, of surgery and of medicinal drugs. We have no teleports, no people with wings, so we developed mighty machines: an enclosed room with wings that flies through the air at the speed of sound itself, and carriages that pull themselves, without the aid of horses."

I had everyone stand back as I made my way to the back of the stables, into the stall marked with all manner of warning glyphs. Inside was a hidden door, which led to a long ramp slanting slowly down, and at the bottom was a vault door, heavily warded. I placed my key in the door, then plucked a single hair from my head, wrapping it around the key three times before I turned it. That was the only way to bypass the wards on the vault. Then I deactivated the anti-entropic spell that held back the ravages of time inside the vault.

Once it was safe, I came back out, and invited everyone to come down. "Gerald, can we get some light? When I was brought here, I did not come all alone. I owned a horseless carriage, and I was inside it at the time. Whatever force it was that plucked me out of my world... brought it along."

Sarah gasped as the magelight illuminated the vehicle. "Oooo! It looks so beautiful!" She grinned and went over to run her fingers along the metal frame.

Wow. She thought cars were sexy. The girl was seriously born in the wrong century!

The adults were just looking at it with various degrees of surprise. Aylwyn looked a bit skeptical. "This entire carriage is made of metal. Surely it is too heavy to move quickly."

I nodded, grinning playfully at her. "That's where the alcohol comes in, as fuel. The device within, that moves it, we measure its strength in a unit called 'horsepower,' and this is rated at over a hundred and fifty. Or perhaps thirty to forty Wyntaf-power," I teased. "The distance isn't a problem; we could be there by nightfall if the roads are clear."

Sarah giggled gleefully. "That means it goes really fast?" I could see her eyes light up at the thought.

"Sarah," Patrick said softly, "I think it would be best if you found another time to enjoy a ride in Paul's carriage."

She turned and scowled at him. "No. I'm not a child, father. I'm not a fragile flowerbud to be locked up and kept safe, particularly not when Mom is in danger!"

"So instead you want to rush into danger too?"

"Come," she said, a bit icily, walking back up out of the vault. The rest of us followed, wondering what had gotten into the girl. She headed out of the stables, then walked towards the river. Once we got close enough, she held out her hand and cried out something arcane, and a huge column of water erupted, maybe twelve feet into the air, splashing water all around. She turned and pointed to a bare patch of ground, several yards off, and it exploded in a shower of dirt and stones that almost reached us. Her next target was a tree. One word, one gesture, and the whole thing was engulfed in roaring flames, until she called water over from the river, floating it up in an immense arch over our heads to dump itself on the tree and put the fire out.

"Even you," she said to her father, "can't do that. You have studied magic, because you love Mom... but I have inherited it from her."

Hill was standing there, his mouth hanging open. "But you didn't inherit her magic," he muttered.

"I've always felt like I did, like I had to have. But only since the curse fell upon me... I think it must have done something, and now I can touch the power. I've been practicing in the last few weeks; I've had precious little else to do, with you always locking me away!"

hoo boy. Time to nip this little family dispute in the bud. "All right, we've got an expert on magic right here," I said. "Gerald, if it comes down to a fight, do you think Sarah would be of use to us? No other considerations, just that. Yes or no."

He looked a bit pale at being asked to judge a question like that. "Well..." he hesitated, looking back and forth between me, Hill, and Sarah. "I suppose... yes."

"All right." I put both hands on Sarah's shoulders, looking her directly in the eyes. Such beautiful eyes, such a lovely face! It took all the willpower I could summon to not get distracted by her. I took a deep breath. "Sarah," I said as levelly as I can, "do you understand that anyone who goes along today might very well not come back?"

She actually looked a bit scared, but she nodded. "Yes. I don't care."

I stepped away, turning to Hill. "How old is your daughter?"

He bit his lip. "Twenty years."

Really? I'd have guessed seventeen or eighteen. Maybe she was starting to age slowly too? "At that age, most would consider her an adult. You're still her father, and I won't gainsay you, but perhaps she should be allowed to choose for herself here?"

He shook his head. "I can't lose them both!" he said.

Aylwyn looked over at him. "If we fail, you will lose them both."

Hill threw up his hands. "Fine! Do as you wish!"

I glowered at him. "I don't wish for any of this. My fondest wish is to never have had any of this happen at all, to be back home living the life I was born into. But sometimes wishes don't count for much and we have no choice but to do what we must.

"I'm as terrified as the rest of you. I'm worried I'll die here. I'm worried I'll drag you into some situation where someone gets killed, and then I survive and I have to live with that on my conscience for the rest of my life. I'm worried we'll get there and she'll jump out and charge headlong at Ken-tu Kel with a battle cry of 'FOR KISSES AND SNUGGLES!'" Sarah shot me an indignant look. I ignored it. "I'm as worried we're going to get your daughter killed as you are. But you saw what she can do. We're bringing Sarah along because any advantage we can find, we'll need!"

Hill balled his hands into fists, clenched his teeth, and closed his eyes, his head bowed forward just a little, taking long, deep breaths, trying to calm himself. "You're right," he finally said. He moved over to take his daughter in his arms, and they both held each other in silence for several long moments. There were tears rolling down her cheeks by the end of it. He might have been crying too, but I couldn't tell because his back was to me. When he finally pulled away from her, he took a moment to compose himself before turning around.

"Let's go," he said, his face a stony mask of calmness.

It wasn't quite as simple as that, of course. First we had to get the car working. It had been seven years, sitting out in the elements, hidden in one wooded area or another, before I was able to get it to this place and store it safely. I'd disconnected the battery, drained the oil, and removed the tires, and that all had to be set right. That took about half an hour, mostly getting the tires put back on. Then we had to fuel it. It had less than a quarter-tank of gas left, and that wouldn't get us 200 miles. I only hoped we had enough alcohol, and that it wouldn't ruin my engine. I'd seen that happen in a movie once, but it was dramatically necessary for the plot. I hoped it wouldn't work that way when I tried it for real!

I didn't want to turn on the engine just yet, so I opened the doors and disengaged the parking brake. I'd left it in neutral when I turned it off last, because the safety systems made it impossible to take it out of Park with the engine off. Sarah, Gerald, Patrick and I each grabbed onto the frame by one of the doors, and Aylwyn, being the strongest, went around behind the vehicle, and we started to push. Getting it up the ramp was a bit of work, even with Aylwyn's strength behind us, but once it rolled out onto the level floor of the stable, it was easy enough to keep it going until we reached the far end.

Evan had been organizing the hunt for all the alcohol the various researchers could lay their hands on, and they had brought several jars over, collected near the wall of the stable. They all boggled at the sight of the vehicle as it rolled out into the daylight. I said "OK, stop," then stuck my head inside and pulled the parking brake, and it skidded to a stop just outside the entrance to the stables. To me, the car looked ilke a mess, with a handful of dents in the panels from driving through the woods, and the shiny silver paint job faded to a dull gray and scratched in various places after years of exposure to the elements. But to everyone else, it was a marvel.

"Mr. Stark, what is this?" Joseph McConnel, our foremost electrical researcher, walked over, asking the question that was on everyone's mind.

I grinned at him. "It's a horseless carriage. It's a prototype, something I've been working on in my spare time over the last few years."

He shook his head. "If you had been collecting this much metal--" he poked at the hood, then rapped on it with his knuckles. "What metal is this, anyway?"

Gerald mumbled something and waved his fingers, then his eyes went wide. "A great deal of this is aluminum!"

Oy. Not this again. "I happen to know where a great cache of aluminum can be found, abandoned by its previous owner."

Aylwyn rolled her eyes when I said that, and McConnel didn't seem to be buying it. "If you had been working on something like this, we would have known about it," he said.

"All right, I admit it. It's not my secret project; it's a powerful artifact from another world."

He scowled. "There's no need to be snippy about it; I was merely curious."

Well, when they don't believe you when you lie, and they don't believe you when you tell the truth, what can you do? So I avoided the subject. "I believe that this can move more quickly than any horse, and my companions need to cover two hundred miles by tonight, without the aid of a teleport. So I'm putting it to a test."

There looked to be about seven or eight gallons of alcohol, all told. I asked if someone could bring a funnel, and ended up with a glass laboratory funnel with an extremely narrow stem. It took the better part of an hour to pour that much fuel into the gas tank, but once it was ready, I told all the folks from the Academy to stand well back, for their own safety. Not that I thought anything unsafe would happen; it just made it feel more dramatic.

"All right, everyone get in."

They all moved towards various doors. Sarah went for the front-left, but Aylwyn stopped her. "That will be Paul's seat," she said.

I blinked at her. "How could you possibly know that?"

She sighed. "Why do you ask how I know so many obvious things?" She gestured at the wheel. "You are the only trained helmsman among us for a horseless carriage."

In the end, Gerald got in the passenger's seat, with Sarah behind me, Hill in the rear center and Aylwyn at the rear right. In different circumstances, I'd be a bit jealous of Patrick, sandwiched between two beautiful women like that for a long ride! I put Gerald's staff, and his pack and mine, and a rapier that Hill had managed to get ahold of from somewhere in the back, but aside from the heavy suitcases Patrick and Sarah had brought, which we were leaving behind, there wasn't too much else to pack. Then I went around to the driver's side door and got in.

"Everyone buckle yourselves in with the restraints," I said, turning to explain to the folks in the back where they could find the seat belts. For Gerald it was a lot simpler; he just watched what I did.

"What are these for?" Hill asked.

"They keep you from going flying forward in case something goes wrong and we hit something at seventy miles an hour."

He rolled his eyes. "Now is no time to be silly. Nothing can travel that quickly."

"Believe what you want," I shrugged. "But buckle yourself in anyway." When it became clear I wasn't going to budge on the subject, he did. "All right, let's get underway." I shifted back to Park, took the key, which I'd left in the ignition the whole time, and turned it.

crank crank crank vroom! It took a few moments, but it actually caught and turned over.

Sarah jumped a little. "Is that the sound of your hundred-fifty horse machine?"

I looked over my shoulder at her. "That's the sound of a much smaller machine whose job it is to start the hundred-fifty horse engine. This is the sound of the engine!" I put it in Neutral again, then revved the engine. Yeah, I was showing off a little. I couldn't help it.

Hill jumped a little. Several of the researchers outside went running for cover. Sarah, though, giggled gleefully. "Ooo! It sounds so powerful!"

"Aylwyn, Gerald, what's the best way to the tower? How far can the King's Highway take us?"

"Most of the way," Gerald said, "and I can guide you for the rest of the journey."

"All right," I said. "Let's get underway." I rolled down the window and waved to the gathered researchers with a broad grin. "It works!" I called out gleefully. Then I opened up the console. There was one more thing I wanted to prepare: inside was my old smartphone. I put the battery back in, then plugged in the USB connector. I wasn't going to use it just yet, but I wanted it to be ready. Then I put the car in Drive and slowly made my way to a nice, smooth cement-paved road, and then on out of town.

If I had to be a Gray Knight, the least I could do was ride into battle on the finest gray steed this world had ever seen.

25: The Gray Knight's Ride

Chapter 25
The Gray Knight's Ride

The first hour, it was nothing but questions, mostly from Gerald. I had to keep the speed down, under 30 most of the time, to have room to maneuver when we passed startled travelers on foot, horse, or carts and carriages. I could only imagine the sort of wild rumors this was going to stir up! And all the while, I was answering questions.

"Why is it built with so much aluminum, and not something cheaper and stronger, like steel?"

"Aluminum is much more plentiful and easier to forge than iron and steel; it is simply not the case here, because extracting it from its ore in an economical manner requires the application of the Force Electric. It's not as strong as steel, but it's much lighter, and bending more easily is actually an advantage."

"Why is that? Would that not make the vehicle more fragile?"

"Yes, but consider the person inside the vehicle. If you were to fall from the top of your tower, would you rather land on the hard ground, or on a pile of cushions?"

He looked puzzled by that. "The cushions, of course, but--ah, I see. It's the same thing, only horizontal." He cast some spell, and a bunch of curved pieces of carved wood came floating up from the back. He must have had them in his pack. "Everyone take one of these; they're meant to protect a person who falls, but they should help in case of a disastrous collision as well." Then he turned to look at me, a bit concerned. "But if such a thing were to happen, there is a copious amount of glass surrounding us in all directions. Would that not tear us apart when it shattered?"

I shook my head. "They've engineered a special type of glass that crumbles like dirt clods when it breaks, instead of shattering into shards."

"When we were pushing the carriage, you slowed and stopped it by raising this rod," he said, indicating the parking brake. "Yet now, you slow with your foot. Why do you have two ways to slow the vehicle?"

"In case one of them fails. There's really no safe speed to hit someone or something at when what you're hitting them with weighs two tons. So there are three distinct and independent ways to make this not move."

"Three?"

I nodded. "This rod controls the machinery that transmits force from the engine to the wheels. Pushing it to different locations selects different modes of operation, travel forwards, to move backwards, or to disengage the whole system so that the carriage can be pushed. But if I push it all the way forwards, it locks the motor entirely, so the wheels cannot be turned without applying enough force to severely damage the entire motor."

"And if there is ice on the highway, so that the wheels cannot find purchase?"

I chuckled wryly. "Then you're in trouble, and the best thing to do is stay home. If not, you drive very slowly and avoid hills wherever possible."

Patrick spoke up from the back. "When you move to the side, to pass someone by, there are sigils on the table before you that show lights and also sounds, like a tiny drum keeping time to some rhythm. What is the purpose of them?"

It took me a moment to understand what he was getting at, then I laughed a little. "Oh. That's something I've been doing completely out of habit. There's a rod under my left hand that will turn on lights that flash to the left side or the right side. It's meant to indicate to anyone else that I'm about to move in that direction, so that they can predict my actions and respond accordingly." I'd kind of thought they would be impressed by all the lights that the car had, but with magelight being such a simple spell, it didn't seem to anyone like any great feat to do the same with technology. "The sigils here simply make me aware of their counterparts on the outside of the vehicle. I suppose I don't really need to do that, now, since no one else understands what the signal lights mean."

The next question was from Sarah. "How did you lower the window, when we first started?"

"It has its own motor, and I can control them. Here." I put hers down about halfway.

She gave a gleeful whoop and stuck her head out the window, laughing as she felt the wind blowing her hair back, until Patrick reached over and tugged on her shoulder to pull her back inside. "Sarah..." he said sternly.

She pouted at him as I rolled the window back up.

* * *

The sun was starting to head down, which made me glad we were heading eastward. Driving into the sun when it's low on the horizon is never fun. With the waning light, the road was starting to clear, as people made camp by the roadside or headed for inns, so I turned on the high beams and brought the speed up to 50. I still had to be cautious, because there were still travelers around, but there were a lot less of them now. And that's when Hill asked the craziest question yet.

"You want me to produce more of these? Patrick, you don't know what you're asking."

"You have one here to study. It seems to be in good working order. Why not?"

Gerald nodded at this, as did Aylwyn. The only one not ganging up on me over it was Sarah; she was staying quiet for once.

"Study is one thing, but the techniques to produce this are unimaginably beyond anything we're doing at Stark Academy." I thought desperately, trying to recall long-forgotten historical trivia. "All right. The McConnell Jars we're producing to store the Force Electric. On my world, those were discovered by a man named Volta, more than 200 years ago. At the same time--you know how when water boils to steam, it expands tremendously in size?" People nodded. "Some engineers had produced a device on this principle, called a steam engine. Fill a sealed, telescoping cylinder with water and light a fire under it, let it vaporize in an enclosed space, and the pressure would push it outward, creating motion. Let it cool, and the cylinder would contract. Hook a mechanism to the cylinder, and it could be made to move back and forth.

"It was enormous, slow and inefficient--a curiosity at best. But a man named Watt found a way to make it work much better, and then a way to make his improved steam engine turn a wheel. But the steam engine was massive, easily twice the size of this carriage. It took a hundred years until an engineer named Benz, who worked with steam engines, managed to produce something radically new: he modified the cylinder to place fuel inside instead of water, and let it burn and expand within the cylinder itself, removing the need for an external furnace. He took advantage of a century of advances in Volta's electric cells to place a battery of them inside a small chamber, and he hitched his engine to a variation on a horse-drawn carriage, replacing the horse.

"It was dangerous, difficult to control, and very expensive, but researchers and engineers began to work on the idea. It took more than twenty-five years before a man named Ford found a way to build a safe, simple, tough, and affordable horseless carriage. And that was a hundred years before this was built; what we're riding in right now is as much greater than Ford's original model as Aylwyn's sword of flames is than a stone knife. At the Academy, we've just barely begun to duplicate some small amount of Volta's work. I know next to nothing of the details of what Watt or Benz did. I could duplicate the critical elements of Ford's research easily enough if I had the base of technology he had to build upon--which is a century ahead of where we are now, if not more--but that would still put us a century behind what we have here. What you ask is simply impossible, at least within any reasonable span of time.

"There is a saying among researchers and engineers of the Drift, a token of humility one might invoke while being honored by one's compatriots for some great new discovery or invention, to acknowledge that their work is all built on that which came before: 'If I see far, it is because I stand on the shoulders of giants.' Well, from my vantage point, I've got entire generations of giants standing atop each other's shoulders, and it gives me an amazing view... but I'm so high up that I can't look down and see the ground, if that makes any sense. But then I found myself here, on the ground, with only the barest idea of how to get up as high as the giants I used to be comfortably resting atop."

Patrick nodded. "Ford must have been a great man."

"They all were! Their names--all of them--are still remembered today. We even named two important electrical measurements the Watt and the Volt, to honor their work." But I totally didn't expect what he said next.

He didn't lean forward, but I clearly heard him whispering to my ear alone, probably with some sort of bardic voice-throwing magic, "and you honor Ford, placing his heraldry on the helm of your carriages, even a century later."

I just about drove off the road as I realized what he was saying. I had to force myself to pay attention, my mind boggling at the revelation. He was right; the name was right there in the middle of the wheel. But that meant that he'd deceived me once again; April had somehow taught him to read English!

I glanced over my shoulder at him, irritated, and he just flashed me a cheeky little grin and winked.

* * *

I did take it up to 70 once, on a long stretch where I could see the road was clear for miles, just to show Hill that it could be done. He didn't know how to read the dashboard, but it was still light enough outside that he could see we were moving at an unthinkable pace. It made him a bit nervous, and when Sarah excitedly asked me to lower her window again, he reflexively barked "no!" But I spent most of the time down at 50.

By the time the sun went down, we were still about an hour out. I pulled over and turned the car off, then opened up the back. "All right, everyone. It's night, but we can't afford to get tired," I said as I got out. I went back and dug around in my pack a little, until I found the chocolate I'd picked up back in Declan. I'd intended it as a distraction in case I had to sneak past any dogs to get into Ken'tu Kel's tower--they love the stuff, but it's a pretty serious poison for them as well, and it's rare enough that I doubted anyone would have trained them to avoid it the way they might with steak--but I never ended up using that plan.

Instead, I passed some around to everyone. "This will help everyone keep awake, and keep your spirits up," I said.

Everyone ended up getting out and walking around a little. They all needed to stop and stretch their legs, and Aylwyn needed to stretch her wings. I felt kind of bad; I hadn't even considered what making her sit back there for hours would do to them.

"Aylwyn," I said. "You're the only trained warrior among us. And Gerald, you're the most experienced with magic. I need you to lead things. I need to know what we're likely to be up against, and what our plan needs to be."

Aylwyn spoke up almost immediately. "The plan is the same as it has always been. I call for aid from other Paladins, and we overrun and disrupt Ken'tu Kel's work."

"All right, that sounds great, if it works. What's the backup plan?"

"Why would it not work?" Aylwyn asked, looking a bit annoyed that I would even bring up the idea.

"I don't know. Gerald, why would it not work? Let's say you're the enemy. You know Aylwyn's been investigating problems within the Circle, and you suspect she might be onto you. You want to take precautions. You're working on a powerful ritual, and completing it is the foremost thing on your mind; you're not worried about long-term consequences. What do you do?"

He thought for a moment. "If I was worried about Celestials, and I didn't care about the consequences? I'd call up demons to oppose them." He looked a bit worried even saying those words. "Not that I actually would, of course..."

I nodded. "Of course. We're just thinking about scenarios here. Summoning demons, at the abandoned tower of a warlock. I suppose that makes sense, if any of our warlock's equipment was left behind or preserved somehow. So what happens if we find ourselves confronted by demons?"

Aylwyn frowned. "Much like the Celestial Realm has a stronger level of ambient magic than this world, the Infernal Realm has less still. Demons are inherently magical beings that hoard magical energy much as plants and animals native to desert climates hoard water. If I attempted to open a conduit to the Celestial Realm, they would be drawn to it, and attack me en masse. If we faced more than perhaps three or four, I would be overcome."

"All right. So they're drawn to powerful magic. Ken'tu Kel is trying to work some powerful magic, orders of magnitude stronger than a summoning. Gerald, you're the enemy. How do you keep the demons you summoned from turning on you?"

He had an answer to that one right away. "I invert my summoning circle, and perform the ritual inside of it. The demons would be unable to cross."

That made me wonder. "When you say unable, what are the limits? You can't have an immovable object opposing an irresistable force."

"A circle is generally drawn to resist a minimum of six times the energy you expect the beings you summon to have available, if not more. This would not be likely to be a problem." Then he thought about it for a few moments. "Although, to contain everything that would be necessary to prepare magic of that magnitude, the circle would have to be quite large. It's doubtful that he will have prepared it inside of any room in the tower, so we're likely to face him on the outside."

"So the demons can't cross the circle to attack you. What about other things that aren't summoned, like us?"

"Any being that is of this world and not bound to a summons will have no trouble crossing a circle."

That made me wonder. "So what about me? I'm from another world."

"You had no trouble crossing into the circle at the Academy, to help Aylwyn to leave. There is enough of this world in you now, from years of eating our food, drinking our drink, and breathing our air--this all becomes a part of you. At least, that is what I imagine would be the case. It fits with known tales of summoned beings who have spent extensive durations of time in our realm."

"All right. But he's not going to be worried about people of this world. He's got an oracular prophecy that no warrior of this world, or of the Drift, can defeat him."

Patrick spoke up. "That all depends on how clever he is. It's worth noting that nobody here is a warrior, except for Aylwyn."

I turned back to Aylwyn. "So, we need a second plan. How do we deal with this scenario?"

She thought for a moment. "I still attempt to call for aid. I draw the demons' attention. Gerald works to banish them, and Sarah attacks with her spells. You and Patrick attempt to keep out of the way."

Gerald looked over at her. "Magic for fighting has never been something I put much effort into studying. I could attempt to banish summoned beings, but I'm a healer above all. I'll do what I can, though."

I winced a little at that. Back home, I'd have never wanted to run an adventuring party like this in a tabletop session. One paladin, one thief, a Level 1 combat mage with an abundance of power but serious distractability issues, an archmage who didn't know how to fight, and a bard, all going up against an epic-level threat.

...a bard! That might actually be useful. "I think Patrick might have the most important role of all," I mused.

He looked at me strangely. "I would? What would that be?"

"You're a Master Bard. You have magic to manipulate sound, right? That puts you in charge of communications and coordinating our effort. If this happens outside, as Gerald thinks, that could easily require a lot of work."

He nodded. "I can help with that. And what will you be doing?"

I walked over to the rear of the car, pulled out all the equipment, then pulled up the compartment where the spare tire was kept. It was a bit of a gamble not bringing one along, but I had more pressing needs for that space. Instead, I had packed a wooden case inside. I opened it up, showing off a medium-sized crossbow and a quiver of bolts with wickedly pointed steel heads. "Please don't anyone ask where I got this. I'm going to be doing what a thief does best: staying out of sight."

Aylwyn looked at the weapon, looked as if she was going to say something, make some sort of objection, but then she just nodded grimly. "I hope it does not come to that. We should attempt to capture Ken'tu Kel alive if it is possible, but it would be unwise to put his life ahead of our own. And above all, the highest goal is to disrupt the ritual."

Sarah chimed in with an idea. "If we can cross into the circle, can our magic? If Ken'tu Kel needs a bunch of space to work, he'll probably have a lot of stuff placed inside the circle. If I make the ground erupt beneath his feet, how much good will that do?"

Gerald nodded. "That's a good idea. It would be exceptionally helpful, if you can do it!"

She grinned. "Just get me close enough!"

That seemed to be about as good of a plan as we were going to get on short notice and with limited resources. Everyone had had some time to stretch, so we got back in and back underway. According to Gerald, it wouldn't be too long before we would be leaving the King's Highway, and then we'd have about ten miles before things were going to get real.

* * *

I learned something that day. If you're ever traveling with a nymph, and you want her to remain calm and keep herself under control... giving her chocolate is probably not the best of ideas. On the other hand, if she's already reasonably restrained in some manner, and you want her to end up with a lot of pent up energy--for whatever reason--it can actually work out well, if you can stand being stuck with a hyperactive nymph for a while. Just saying.

Sarah kept squirming in a way that was highly distracting in my rear-view mirror, (and the low light just made her movements that much more intriguing,) and occasionally trying to reach around my seat and touch me in some way, light caresses on my arms or my shoulders, mostly. I had to snap at her a couple times to not distract me while we're moving fast enough that one mistake could kill us all, and Patrick tried to calm her down but he didn't accomplish much.

Finally we reached the crossroads that Gerald said was the right place, and I turned off. He said to keep going on this road for about three miles, then turn right. I looked out the window and pointed. "That way?" I asked.

Off in the distance, there was a pillar of pale blue-white light rising into the sky, with brilliant green, yellow and purple auroras occasionally flashing in and out around it. The archmage scowled. "Yes," he said. "That way. It appears he's started already."

I had one more trick up my sleeve, something that would raise everyone's spirits, and hopefully distract Sarah a little. I opened up the console again and got my phone out, poking around at it for a few minutes. Hill asked what the device I was holding was; I told him it was a sort of archival system to store knowledge and information on.

"What sort of information do you need right now?"

I grinned as I got the playlist ready. "Something you ought to really appreciate." I plugged it into the USB port again, and turned on the sound system. "You're the first bard to get to learn the music of a different world."

I grinned as I heard a guitar intro for the first time in ten years. I'd missed that! The first song I had selected was a cheesy country-pop number that I'd have never admitted I enjoyed, back home, but it was just fun. I was really enjoying myself as I pushed the speed up probably a bit faster than I should on the poor-quality side road, bouncing everyone around a little. Sarah, Patrick and Gerald were all listening, rapt, as the intro played. Aylwyn... was being Aylwyn. I couldn't tell what she thought of this, and her take on music was really different from most people's anyway. Then the words started. I'd liked it because of how well it fit.

Life's like the road that you're traveling on,
it's one day here and the next day gone...

Halfway through the big guitar solo, Patrick asked what manner of instrument made such odd noises. "It sounds almost like one time I heard someone playing magic crystals, but one of them was cracked. And yet, there is a very deliberate sense to all of this."

"It's called an electric guitar," I said.

He seemed puzzled by that. "The guitar I know; it's an exotic instrument, a sort of lute with a flat back. But what does the Force Electric have to do with them?"

"It's complicated. Just enjoy the sound!"

"This is a puzzling song. Is it about traveling a highway, or about the singer and his love?"

"Both!"

We had time for a few more loud and upbeat numbers, which actually had Sarah wiggling around and seat-dancing a little, before we got close enough that Aylwyn said we should go silent. I turned the music off, shut off the headlights, and cut the speed way down. We were moving through a wooded area, but I figured that, like most places built for human habitation, the tower would have had the trees cut back a ways to provide visibility and ease of movement.

"We've got less than half a mile to go, before we reach the edge of the trees," Gerald said. "And I've been watching the position of the pillar as we move. I doubt it will be more than another half-mile once we get clear.

I grinned and got my phone out. It was almost showtime, and I had one surprise left...

26: At The Tower's Base

Chapter 26
At The Tower's Base

It's been said that no battle plan survives contact with the enemy. Ours didn't even survive that long. We went around a bend in the road, and then there, right in front of us, was the tower, maybe half a mile off to the north. I could see it pretty clearly because it was backlit by the pillar of light, which appeared to be maybe thirty yards behind it and off to the left a little. The tower was less than a half-mile off and atop it was a big glass orb that flashed a bright yellow as soon as we came into view. A bright bolt of energy flashed out and flew towards us, and the only reason it didn't hit us is because I stomped hard on the gas. It hit the ground behind us, kicking up a bunch of dirt.

I jerked the wheel sharply to the right, pulling the handbrake and trying to do one of those skid-in-a-curve things like you see in movies. That probably would have worked better on smooth pavement instead of rough, uneven dirt, but it did kind of work: it got us turned around quickly, at least. I looked in my mirror and saw the orb flash again, and I quickly headed back for the trees and around the bend, turning on the headlights and just barely avoiding the pothole that it had left in the road.

"What was that?" Hill asked, sounding worried.

"I don't know," Gerald said. "I haven't seen a device like that before. "Clearly it was placed atop the tower to keep intruders away, but--"

"It's a turret," I said. "Ken'tu Kel borrowed the idea from my world."

"A turret is a small tower built as part of a wall," Hill said.

I nodded. "We sort of changed the word. In my world, in this context, it means a machine that acts as a guard: it is able to watch for intruders and attack them by throwing things at them. This looks like a magical version. We'll never get close to the tower, let alone around to the other side of it, with that thing throwing spells at us."

"And," Aylwyn pointed out, "if Ken'tu Kel is paying attention, he almost certainly knows that we are here."

I nodded. "Sarah, can you blow it up?"

"I probably could, if I could see it clearly," she said.

"Which would mean it can see you as well," Patrick objected.

"Gerald, can you shield her against it?"

He frowned. "I'm not sure. Shielding is simple in concept, but that does not necessarily make it easy in practice. A shield opposes energy with energy, and if it is stronger, it holds. It's like two fighters grappling, trying to push each other off balance: all other things being equal, the stronger of the two will win. But those bolts were quite powerful."

"What about diverting it?" I asked. "It's a lot easier to bounce something off in a different direction than to bring it to a stop, for physical objects at least. Can you enchant the carriage so it will reflect spells?"

He shook his head. "A thing this large? If I had a week, perhaps."

"We have minutes, if that," Aylwyn spoke up in a tense tone.

Suddenly I had a crazy idea. Those bolts came right at you... "What about your staff? It's a lot smaller."

He nodded slowly. "That I could do, but a staff is no shield. It would be madness to expect to strike a fast-moving bolt of magic like that with a staff."

I grinned at him. "I know a way. Come on."

He looked a bit perplexed, but he followed me around to the back. "Do you know something about magic that none of the rest of us know?" he asked as I got the staff out.

"Not magic," I said. "It would take too long to explain; we need to do this quickly. Just... trust me."

"I hope you know what you're doing," the archmage said hesitantly as he began waving his hands over the staff.

"I do," I said. "I promise you that. I just hope it works. Sarah, come with me."

"It's ready," Gerald said as Sarah got out.

"Let's test this." I held the staff out away from me. "Sarah, stand off at an angle, and project a very small bolt of energy against it."

She did, and it struck the staff and ricocheted off and down into the dirt. "Perfect. Come with me, quickly. The rest of you, get ready. We're about to have a fight on our hands." I ran as quickly as I could while holding a big, long wooden staff, and Sarah stayed at my side.

"Stay behind me," I said. "I'm going to be swinging this around, and you need to be far enough back that it can't hit you. When I deflect the magic away, blast the orb."

"Finally, something fun to do!" she grinned.

I reached the bend in the road and ran out as fast as I could, taking a proper grip on the staff, turning my body to the side, and holding the staff up over my shoulder in a pose I hadn't adopted in a decade.

In the distance, the orb flashed, and a bolt of energy sped towards me. Big deal. It was half a mile away; I was used to doing this from sixty feet. I waited, watched, tightened my grip, and then swung for the metaphorical fences.

There was no crack, just a bit of a hiss, and the yellow bolt flew off randomly up into the sky. "NOW!" I yelled.

Sarah raised her arm to point at the orb, and she conjured up a bolt of power of her own, which flew straight for its target, shattering it. It had enough time to fire off a second bolt before being destroyed, but with the way it was sending perfect fastballs at me, I batted it away as well. This one went off into the dirt, gouging up a long, narrow trench in the ground.

I turned and saw the others standing behind me. "What an odd combat stance," Aylwyn remarked, observing the way I stood and held the staff. "What is it called?"

I grinned and straightened up, tossing the staff back to Gerald. "It's called Batter Up!" He tried to catch it, fumbled a little, then managed to grab it and hold on firmly. "The turret's gone. Let's get back inside; we need to cover some ground very quickly!"

"It's too late for that," Aylwyn said. She held out her hand, and her sword of flames appeared. Then she closed her eyes, and the soft white robe that was the only thing I'd ever seen her wearing began to shimmer brightly for several moments, and when the light died down, she was covered in a suit of plate armor that shone in the reflected light from her sword. I had no idea what it was, but it shone brighter than steel, brighter even than polished silver. "There are creatures coming this way."

"Demons?" Gerald asked.

"Golems."

Great. First he conjures up a missile turret, and now he sends a bunch of magical robots after us. I sure hoped they didn't have any Wands Of Being Analagous To An Assault Rifle!

Gerald called up a much larger ball of magelight than anything I'd seen before, directing it up to the treetops where it projected a bright, somewhat harsh glow over a wide area. I could see them now. It looked like ten or so creatures made of what appeared to be animated clay, loping towards the treeline, each carrying a big, scary-looking club of stone.

Aylwyn charged. Sarah let out a whoop that I supposed was intended as some sort of battle cry, and threw lightning bolts at them. She blew one apart, then a second, in a shower of crumbling clay, but then Aylwyn closed with them, and I placed a hand on Sarah's arm as she raised it again. "Wait," I said. "You don't want to hit Aylwyn."

The angel was moving surprisingly gracefully in the plate armor, the sort of thing a human could never pull off. Her sword seemed to be everywhere at once, which was good because she was surrounded by a pack of golems, each swinging clubs at her from all angles. Two of them broke off and came running towards us. Sarah blasted one, then made the ground explode beneath the feet of the second. It flew into the air, and she projected force against it, shattering it into a thousand pieces.

Gerald stepped up, holding out his staff and pointing at the melee, unleashing some sort of bolt of energy. To my horror, it struck Aylwyn right in the back, but then I saw that that was what it was meant to do: a golden glow surrounded her briefly and there was a loud thunderclap, and the golems were all forced back by a few feet. The angel leapt forward and struck with her sword, slicing an arm off of one of the golems and then striking low, severely cracking one of its hardened clay legs. It tried to take a step back, and the weight on its leg caused the whole thing to crumble. It fell over onto its back.

Sarah picked off another of the golems. I didn't wait to stick around and watch; our side was clearly winning. Time to worry about whatever came next! I turned and sprinted for the car, getting the box with my crossbow out and tossing it in the back seat, then getting in and doing my best to turn it around on the narrow dirt road. It took several turns, but I got it facing the right direction, then pulled up and put the window down right as Aylwyn was walking back over, having taken down the last of the golems.

"Whatever's next," I said, "we need to close the distance, quickly. Everyone get in."

Everyone did, except Aylwyn. "I'll call for Wyntaf," she said, moving several steps away and starting the light show she usually did when calling her horse down. I looked away. "All right. He knows we're here. Time to shake him up a little. Gerald, do you have any spell that will stop up my ears?"

"Make it so you can't hear? Why would we want that?"

I grinned at him. "Because I'm about to make a lot of noise."

Just then, the archmagus sent a lot of noise of his own our way. "You seek to turn my prophecy against me, Paul Twister?" a booming voice echoed through the night. "You bring a warrior of neither world, and the technology of the Drift? But still you cannot succeed; nations will tremble before me! Lay on, Macduff, and damned be him that first cries, 'Hold, enough!'"

Wow. Even Gerald, who had never liked the guy, described Ken'tu Kel as being mostly honorable and decent, even if there was something suspicious about him. But give a guy just a bit of oracular awesomeness to guide himself by, and the whole thing just seems to instantly go to his head.

On the other hand, that was after he had already locked up April, presumably stolen her magic, and ripped the Twist out of me. Maybe he just had everyone fooled all along, including Gerald.

"What was that?" Hill asked when the voice stopped.

"It's nothing," I said as I put the car in Drive and hit the gas. Aylwyn was already mounted up. "He's just taunting me, trying to rattle me."

"Was there more to the prophecy?"

"Don't worry about it. He just doesn't know he's already lost. Gerald, I need that spell. You don't need to deafen me, but mute my hearing by a good bit if you can. Not right now, but I'll need it as soon as we get around the tower."

Gerald looked dubious, but he nodded. "You've been right enough so far..." he said, though his tone implied that that was not quite as reassuring as it probably should have been.

I turned off to the right a little, aiming for the opposite side of the tower from where the pillar of light was. Aylwyn charged off to the left, further off than she would need to come directly at Ken'tu Kel. Looping around him, maybe? It looked like that. I put the tower between myself and the wizard. "OK, I need the spell. Then everyone get out. I'm going to blind and deafen him, if I can."

"You have music to deafen someone?" Hill asked.

I grinned. "Watch and learn." Everyone got out, and Gerald quickly wove the spell, and suddenly it sounded like someone was holding pillows against both of my ears. I waved them away from the car, then checked my phone one last time. It was ready. So I rolled down all four windows, turned on the music again, and cranked it as high as it would go. Drums rattled, a low-pitched drone issued from the speakers for a second or so, and then they began to roar with the cacaphony of a Scottish pipe band as I hit the gas and charged out away from the shelter of the tower.

So much for staying out of sight! I guess I had to try the opposite tack: If Aylwyn was going to attack from the west, I was going to make the best dang "clamor in the east" I could.

I figured Gerald and Sarah were going to come out behind me and start slinging spells, with Patrick hanging back to coordinate things. I was wrong. In the rear view I saw Gerald with his staff held high over his head, and the three of them were floating up into the air, apparently preparing to appropriate Ken'tu Kel's turret strategy.

Then a snarling demon strode into view and I didn't have time to get distracted by flying people anymore. The crimson-skinned creature was vaguely humanlike in appearance, but its facial features were badly misshapen, like someone had taken a mannequin made of plastic and held its face over a fire just long enough for it to get all melty and run a little. There were no horns, no tail or hooves or bat wings, but it did have claws, its fingernails perhaps three inches long and glinting dully, reflecting the light radiating from the pillar.

It was also apparently capable of running at over thirty miles an hour, closing on me even as I tried to maneuver out of the way. I saw a flash of light in my mirror, and it stumbled and fell. Thanks, Sarah, I thought.

Then I heard Hill's voice, directly in my ear. "Turn right, now!" Well, I'd suggested he take the role of coordinator, so I might as well do as he suggested. I turned the wheel hard, and a fireball came hurtling past the driver's side window.

I got a quick look at the field. The three magic-users were atop the tower, Sarah playing sniper and sending out spells to pick off the demons that Ken'tu Kel had called up, Gerald throwing various spells all over in between trying to shield the tower against retaliatory magic, and Hill darting back and forth along the crenellated wall, trying to see everything at once.

Aylwyn had a pack of four or five demons on her, and she was striking in all directions with her sword, while Wyntaf reared and kicked at them.

Sarah tried a few times to throw spells directly down upon the pillar, but they hit some sort of magical barrier and fizzled away. She pointed, and the ground just outside the barrier erupted in a geyser of dirt and stones, which got whipped around the circle by swirling currents of wind.

One of the demons broke away from Aylwyn and came sprinting at me, leaping into the air. "Dodge left!" came Hill's voice, and I turned hard left and stepped on it, bagpipe music still blaring from the speakers. Suddenly the ground erupted off to my right, just where I would have been, right as the demon landed there. It was thrown back into the air again, and I drove off, trying to put more distance between myself and the chaos of the fighting, for the moment at least.

"Turn around!" I swerved hard in a half-circle, and was horrified to see that Wyntaf had gone down. Aylwyn still had a bunch of demons on her, and she was fighting desperately to keep from being overwhelmed. Then, from the center of the circle, a massive energy bolt flew up, blowing the top off the tower. Everyone up top went flying. I really hoped they still had those easy-fall foci Hill had passed around! Even so, they'd probably be hurt. Maybe even seriously injured.

I felt a growl of frustration building deep in my throat. Ken'tu Kel was not going to kill my friends, not while I was around. Stolen power or no, I was still Paul Twister, and staying out of sight was not what I did best.

Breaking magic was.

Gerald had said that magical shielding was a matter of energy versus energy. Well, kinetic energy is based on mass times the square of velocity. Time to see how it holds up against the force of two tons of metal moving at highway speeds!

I floored it, turning the wheel to point directly at the pillar of light. The archmage seemed to notice; he threw a fireball at me. I swerved right to avoid it, then back left. He threw another one, and I swerved left this time, then had to check my urge to swerve right as he threw one off to the right.

Trying to anticipate me? I wondered if a head-fake would work. I got lined up straight towards him again, still accelerating, getting up past 50 now, then flipped the turn signal to turn left. He fell for it, throwing a fireball off to my left, and I dodged right, the wheel canceling the signal. I tried again, signaling left, and this time he threw one to the right, but I was already turning left, lining straight up with the source of all the fireballs.

There was a sickening crunch as a demon leapt at me, hitting the hood, spiderwebbing my windshield before rolling off. I held my course, pushing the speed higher, past 60 now, the circle getting closer and closer. I dodged right as another fireball came in, then jerked the wheel back to the left to line it up with the wizard in the middle, and kept accelerating. My hand reached down, quickly undoing the buckle of my seat belt. This was gonna be tricky...

And then the circle was right in front of me. I hit the cruise control, locking the speed in, twisted the wheel a little to the right, and opened the door, leaping out as hard as I could, trying to get clear.

That's a really bad idea when the car you're in is doing almost 70 miles an hour. It's a somewhat less bad idea when you're carrying a spell enchanted by an archmage to make falling hurt less, but it's still a bad idea. Time seemed to slow down as the ground came up at me, I felt myself decelerating, and then suddenly I hit and was bumping and rolling all over. I felt a horrible crack go up my left arm as the bone snapped, making me cry out in pain, and I think I broke a rib or three as well. But it could have been a lot worse. It could have been a whole lot worse, in fact.

For example, I could have been inside the car. Or in its path.

It hit the barrier and crunched, as it was designed to do, but there was still plenty of momentum behind it, and as the back part of the car continued pressing forward, it only took a fraction of a second before a brilliant flash of light lit the area and the barrier shattered. The car ended up turning sideways, then rolling over three times, getting bounced around a little when it hit the pillar of light, spinning out while it was rolling, and crashing into the tower. Somewhere along the line, it also ran down Ken'tu Kel.

The demons attacking Aylwyn suddenly turned and charged for the pillar, beginning to claw at it like feral beasts, trying to claim its magical energy. My head was ringing, my vision blurring, as I saw bolts of magic fly in and blast the remaining demons. Sarah must have had a softer landing than I did.

I used my good arm to push myself up, wincing as I slowly got to my feet, groaning and holding my side. I limped over towards the wreckage of my car. As I got closer, I saw Ken'tu Kel laying nearby. He was trying to reach for his staff. I ran up, wincing from the pain, and kicked it out of reach, then stepped on his hand just for good measure.

Ken'tu Kel looked up at me, his face twisted with pain. I was hurting all over, in far worse shape than I was. Afterall, a car vs. person collision usually hurts a lot worse than getting thrown out of the car. Both of his legs and one arm were broken and badly mangled, his face was a bloody mess, and there were enough spots of blood soaking through his robes that I was surprised he was still alive at all.

"How?" he managed to gasp out. "Nations from the Drift would tremble before me... how can I have failed?"

"Despair thy charm," I said slowly, doing my best to sneer down at him when I wasn't wincing from pain. "And let the demon whom thou still hast served tell thee..." I heard something and looked over my shoulder, and saw Aylwyn coming over, her flaming sword in hand. So I turned back to him and shrugged. I wasn't going to give him the satisfaction. "...that antagonizing the oracle you were depending on for guidance is a really dumb move." And I walked away. I didn't want to watch what happened next.

There was no scream, though, no execution this time. She broke his staff, then knelt over him, both to heal and to restrain the mage. I saw bright flashes of light all over as a handful of other Paladins finally arrived to help clean things up. Gerald walked over to the pillar of light and began working on some magical something-or-other that would shut it down.

Then Aylwyn came over and laid her hands on me, and I felt warmth and relaxation wash over me, soothing the agony of my broken bones as her power coursed through me. As the adrenaline and the pain died down, and endorphins began to kick in, I sighed softly, and slowly drifted off, letting myself slip into unconsciousness. We'd won. It was safe now.

27: The Hand Moving The Knight

Epilogue
The Hand Moving The Knight

And so the valiant Celestial Paladin Aylwyn, having been assigned to work with the circle of Magi, found corruption within the circle that went to its very head, eventually discovering that the Archmagus of the Circle himself was consorting with demons and plotting to enslave a greater dragon to hold the kingdoms of the world hostage to his whims. He had betrayed his closest ally, the ancient and wise sorceress April O'Neil, and destroyed her manor, seeking to wipe out her family as well. Thankfully, her husband and daughter escaped, and managed to join forces with Aylwyn, the archmage Gerald Wolf--a noted rival of Ken'tu Kel--and the reclusive genius Anthony Stark, of Stark Academy. They used a prototype of an autonomous carriage that Mr. Stark had been working on in secret to reach the wizard and thwart his plans by interrupting the ritual that would have bound the dragon to his will. Unfortunately, Mr. Stark's prototype was ruined beyond saving during the fighting, and he decided that the test of this technology had revealed too many safety flaws to make it a matter worth pursuing further.

At least, that's the story that eventually got around, as told by the bards Peter Parker, a known traveling companion of Aylwyn's, and Patrick Hill, who had been present for the events in question. Paul Twister had nothing to do with any of it; he was known to be several weeks' journey away the very next day, much faster than anyone can travel without magic, doing something which only coincidentally happened to be related to the events in question.

But that's getting ahead of things. I woke up the next morning on the floor in a room inside the tower. I was still feeling a bit sore, but not nearly as bad as I probably should have been. There was a blanket thrown over me, and a bit of light coming in through a window. I looked around and saw Hill sleeping nearby, and a bed with Gerald lying in it. When I stood up, I saw Sarah lying on the floor on the other side of the bed, over by the window. Her skin was crimson, like a demon's. I quickly put my boots on, then turned and slinked away, wondering where Aylwyn was, and if any of the other angels were still around.

I didn't see anyone as I made my way out of the tower. The wreckage of my car was sitting not too far off, and I didn't need a claims adjuster to tell me it was totaled. Not too far from the car, I saw a stone pedestal, about five feet high, with two large gemstones sitting atop it, one shiny, the other dark. I wasn't sure why everyone had just left them there, but I walked over and tried to take them.

I was able to pocket the darkened sapphire easily enough, but when I touched the other one, a ruby glowing a brilliant pink-white color, it crumbled and split apart into four smaller stones, the light leaking out of it like water draining from a bucket with a bunch of holes in the bottom. I don't know if it was already damaged, or if it had just reacted badly to me, but I felt a profound sense of sadness seeing that, knowing what it represented.

I heard something behind me, something impossible. I turned, tensing, wondering if I was going nuts. Then I heard it again, and started to slowly walk over towards my car, which was laying upside-down. A strange assortment of electronic tones was coming from within.

It's hard to live in a place like this without learning to believe in six impossible things before breakfast as a basic survival skill, but even so, what I was hearing was downright impossible. There was no technology, nor magic, in this world that could even conceivably be causing my cell phone to play its ringtone right now!

Then a chill went down my spine as I remembered what Aylwyn had told me, that there was more than simply magic that could affect this world.

I dug at the wreckage, trying to wrench the passenger-side door open, but it wouldn't yield so I climbed in as best I could through the shattered windshield, brushing shards of crumbling safety glass away. I found the latch to the console busted, and I pulled it open, revealing that my phone was still inside, somehow intact. And the screen was lit up with an INCOMING CALL message. No number listed.

Feeling a bit weirded out at what was without a doubt the most surreal moment of my life so far, I swiped my thumb across the touchscreen and held it up to my ear. "Hello?"

A deep but distinctly feminine voice greeted me. "You have done well," it said, "but there is still one thing that must be done. Pass the portal."

"What portal?" I asked, but the call was over already. I wiggled my way back out of the car and looked around, wondering what in the world was going on now, and saw that the pedestal that the two stones had rested upon was gone; in its place was a swirling vortex of energy, a hole in the world. And whatever it was that had called me wanted me to step through?

Well, whatever it was that wanted me to step through had the power to turn the world inside out enough to place a call to my phone, and I didn't have the Twist anymore to protect myself from the whims of beings able to reshape reality like that, so the best thing to do would probably be to obey. I slipped the phone into my pocket, next to the sapphire, and walked over, stepping through the portal. Then I fell about a foot and landed hard on stone. A tower.

It was a huge, majestic tower, the largest I'd seen. The sun had shifted in the sky, noticeably higher than it had just been, which put me significantly further to the east. The stone beneath me had the appearance of marble, and on a hunch I looked off to the north, and realized I was right when I saw the city of Declan on the horizon.

What in the world was I doing atop Ken'tu Kel's tower?

Well, there was only one way to go, and that was down. I found a trapdoor and opened it--it didn't seem to be locked; apparently Ke'tu Kel wasn't worried about someone climbing up such a tall tower--then climbed down the ladder to the floor below.

The room was dark, the only light coming from above. I looked around and saw a window, with heavy curtains drawn across it, and when I pulled them open and light filled the room, I noticed a bed against one wall, with a woman sleeping in it. She groaned softly when I let all the light in, and slowly turned to sit up, looking over at me. Her face looked familiar, then I realized why.

As prison cells go, this was a pretty comfortable one; as nice a room as you'd ever find in an expensive inn in the capital, with a nice, soft bed and a valuable-looking wardrobe of some dark wood, varnished to a deep brown shine, near the door. But the person on the bed was still a prisoner. The woman was in her 40s, a bit younger than my mother but not by too much, and there was enough of Sarah in her face that there was really only one person it could be. "April O'Neil?" I asked cautiously. No way she was getting too old and frail to travel. I wondered what her real reason was for not coming to visit me.

She gasped softly. "Paul Twister? You finally came?"

I nodded. "It's a long story." I turned away. "Are you decent?"

"Wait." I heard a blanket being pulled aside, then hinges creaking and cloth rustling, and then she walked around into my field of view, dressed in a proper wizard's robe, a bright yellow in color. "I guess I'm not the great sorceress anymore," she sighed. "So..." she held out a hand to me, giving me a wan smile. "Hi, I'm Heather Simmons."

I chuckled softly as I realized that the name didn't actually mean anything; this one was just a name. Her name. So I took her hand and squeezed it gently. "Daniel Nations," I said. "I guess I'm not really Paul Twister anymore either. He got me too."

"But then..." she didn't seem to quite know what to say.

"It's over," I said. "We took him down last night. Come on, I'm going to take you back to your family."

Her eyes lit up a little. "Are they all right?"

"Patrick's fine. Sarah... well, you'll see." It was a bit much to explain. She just nodded, and headed for the door.

"Not that way," I said, walking towards the ladder to the roof.

"You came in through there?"

I nodded and went to climb up, then hesitated. "Hang on." I rolled up my pants and pulled out the dagger I kept sheathed in the lining of my left boot. "You know how to read the local language?"

She scowled a little. "Took me nearly forty years to get the hang of it, but yeah." She eyed the dagger curiously. "Why?"

I grinned and walked over to her wardrobe, then held the dagger out to her. "Carve a message for me, would you? Paul Twister was here."

She just grinned and carved a series of glyphs into the wood. "You're gonna make them wonder how we got out, aren't you? I assume you have a way?" She handed the dagger back to me, and I put it back in my boot, then went and climbed up the ladder. She followed me, and her eyes widened a little when she saw the portal.

"Come on," I said, running up to it and jumping through. I heard her feet behind me, running up to follow me, but then I jumped in, and everything changed. I wasn't back at the tower, and April never emerged behind me.

I was in a cave. Stone all around me, wide, expansive walls, lined with balls of magelight every few feet.

From off in the distance, a deep, feminine voice rumbled through the cavern. "Approach, my knight."

Nuh uh. Screw that! I turned and stepped back through the portal... and found myself suddenly emerging right back out the same portal, still in the cavern.

"Approach."

Well, when she put it that way...

I slowly walked toward the source of the voice, apprehension growing with each step. After a minute or two, I came around a bend and into a much larger chamber, that was filled more than halfway by an enormous golden dragon, laying on the floor, her serpentine body curled around itself.

"Ryell." I said.

The immense gold-scaled head was twice as big as me. It turned, slowly, ponderously, to regard me with eyes almost as large as my head. Then the giant mouth opened, speaking slowly. "You have done well, my knight."

"I'm not your knight," I said. "I'm just a guy who ended up stuck on this world to balance a bunch of magic."

"And now," the dragon responded, "it is balanced. The one who would upset the magic is no longer a threat, and the natural order of the world is restored."

"The natural order?" I asked. "With you on top of the heap?"

"Is it not the duty of a shepherd to protect her sheep from harm? Have I not done well with that which is mine, bringing peace and prosperity throughout your lands, and rooting out that which would bring harm? Have you not prospered as well?"

"I don't feel like I have," I said. "I feel like I've been used."

"And yet," the dragon countered, "the most brilliant minds of your kingdom attend to your every whim. You are renowned in song and story, and great riches are yours, almost for the asking. You have health and strength. You have a woman you love, a woman who loves you..." the dragon chuckled, a low vibration making the cavern tremble very subtly. "It is a shame they are not the same woman, true, but all in all you have a life most would envy."

I snorted. "Sarah doesn't love me; she hardly knows me."

The dragon's head rolled back and forth slightly in what I suppose had to be some sort of shrug. "She will."

"I don't actually believe you can see into the future. That prophecy your Oracle gave to Ken'tu Kel wasn't a prophecy at all, was it? It wasn't even for him. It was a warning, to me. A message to explain what I needed to do to stop him. You just have ways of knowing all sorts of stuff that you really shouldn't."

Another head-shrug. "Believe what you will, my knight. Your opinions matter not to me."

"I'm not your knight," I repeated.

"And yet you serve my will, ever since you first met my Conduit."

I growled a little. "Last person who tried to use a line like that on me, I ran him down with a car."

That actually got a laugh from the dragon. "What an amusing knight you are. If you had another one, do you really think it would harm me as easily as a human? But notwithstanding your... pretensions of freedom, you have served me well. For that, I will grant you three rewards."

"Awesome," I said. "A way home, a pouch full of gold, and no more interference in my life."

"Rewards, I said, not wishes. Show me my sapphire."

I nodded silently, my hands shaking a little as I pulled the dark gem out of my pocket. "What a disgrace, to take this lovely stone and mutilate it so." The dragon's mouth opened and her tongue lashed out, brushing against my hand with the dry feel of snakeskin as it captured the sapphire. She pulled it back into her mouth and crunched on it for a few moments, as if she were eating the gemstone. Then she breathed out, puffing a dark, thick smoke right in my face.

I coughed and wheezed, doubling over as the smoke burned through me. But then it dissipated, and I felt... better. More whole again. It wasn't hard to guess what she had done.

"First, I return to you that which was stolen," the dragon rumbled.

"Umm... thanks," I said. "That actually hurt a lot less than having it ripped out of me."

Partway down the dragon's back, one enormous wing twitched slightly. "Second, the gift of knowledge. Be warned, my knight. What one can accomplish, another can also. Ken'tu Kel is not the only one to make the crossing between worlds. In the days since he left, his personal effects have fallen into the hands of people of the Stonelands who seek to study his work. Soon, they shall learn the truth: magic did not vanish from your world; only the knowledge of it. And then they will come looking, and the second crossing shall be worse than the first."

I nodded. "Thanks for the heads-up. I'll keep my eyes open."

"And third, the gift of realignment. You have chosen to cast your lot with our world, with the world that I and my kind pulled away from your own when they first began to create horrors of science. For three years, you have used your knowledge to improve the lot of my people, and not to build weapons to destroy. Therefore, I give you three years. For each of the next three months, your body will age by one year, giving your raging blood the chance to cool somewhat."

I wasn't sure how much of a difference there would be between 22 and 19, but I'd spent long enough cursing my teen hormones to not appreciate the offer. "That's very generous of you," I said. "What's the catch? What does it cost me?"

"The rewards are simply gifts," she said. "They are yours to enjoy. You will also find, as you grow to be more of this world, that your power and that of your young lover will mingle more... smoothly. Remember this; you may need it someday soon." I wish she wouldn't call Sarah that. Whatever feelings I'd had for her had just been because... well... nymph.

"I can't fix her?" I asked. "Twist her curse away?"

Another soft rumble of laughter. "There never was a curse, my knight. She was restored to her natural state when her mother's power fell, stripping away the seal that her mother had put upon her, when she first found that the child growing within her womb had inherited her nature as a being not of our world. The power of the Void between worlds is chaotic; it manifests in a different way for each. For your young lover, she is not tightly bound to this world; only half of her is permanent here, and the other half is an empty shell, released each night and filled again with new essence."

Well that made exactly zero sense. "So she's stuck like that, until April can restore the seal?"

"Her mother's power is gone now, consumed to prepare the spell that would reverse the Drift. Had you arrived a few short hours later, your own would have been as well. But the effect has been minimal. The worlds slowly begin to drift back together, but it is nothing I and my brethren cannot reverse. Remember this: We separated the worlds when your own alchemists discovered the black powder of war. Three things are an abomination: gunpowder, the rocket, and the bomb. Direct your studies elsewhere, if you wish to preserve the peace, between men and men, and between men and dragons."

Three things that have the potential to hit hard enough that a dragon would be afraid of them. Got it. "If you've been watching my world enough to know about those things, you'll know of good uses as well. No rockets means no satellites, no worldwide communication, GPS systems, or orbital imagery. Forbidding explosives cuts off revolutions in mining."

The dragon chuckled again. "Consider it a challenge, to be overcome by brilliant scholars and engineers." She made a harsh sound deep in her throat that almost sounded like a cough, then spit something out. Something metal. It clinked on the stones at my feet. "This is for you."

I wasn't sure I wanted something that a dragon had just coughed up, but I looked down at the silvery piece of metal, then bent down to pick it up. I groaned softly when I realized what I had in my hand. It was a little metal figure, about an inch tall, consisting of a stylized horse's head and neck, carved in amazingly intricate detail, set atop a circular base. It was made of aluminum, with tiny, sparkling sapphires for eyes: A chess piece, a gray Knight. A badge of rank, or an emblem of my service to her.

Well, that was about enough of that. Fiona Khal had warned me that the dragon would try to outwit me somehow, and I figured the best way to not have that happen would be to just have nothing to do with her. I was done here. I dropped it on the ground. "I told you twice already, I'm not your knight." I turned and started walking away. Sure, she could probably kill me horribly five different ways, but I didn't think she'd brought me here to cause trouble for me. No, Ryell was trying to seduce me into her service. Offering gifts, offering knowledge, restoring the Twist to me. She wanted me as one of her agents, and she was patient enough to try again if I turned her down right now.

At least, I hoped so.

I walked back to where the portal on the wall was. I had the Twist back now. I had no idea where I'd end up if I stepped through.

I stepped through anyway. That uncertainty came with being Paul Twister, and I was starting to figure that he wasn't always such a bad person to be.

28: Afterword

Afterword

I first got the idea for the prophecy back in high school. I had a teacher by the name of Mr. Nations. I can't remember what he taught, but I remember the name. That same year, in English class, we read Macbeth, and I was fascinated by the witches' prophecy to Macbeth and the way it ended up turning around and blowing up in his face at the end. And so I had this teacher by the name of Mr. Nations, and one day the thought just came to me: "Nations shall tremble before you." And the thought's been with me ever since, that that line would make for a great "Macbeth Prophecy".

I've always had this story I wanted to write, a series actually, about a mage who gets trapped in a different world, and he has to try to find his way home, but each world is different and has a very different type of magic with new rules that he has to learn and figure out in order to find a way to leave the world he's on and progress to the next one. He would eventually come across an enchanted sword that can cut through anything, though it would treat living and non-living matter in very different ways, which would present unique challenges in his attempts to use it. The power of the sword would come from a spirit that was imbued within it. One of the major themes of the story would be religion and how it can become corrupted, the effects that this could have on society and the difficult process it would be to try and restore what had been lost or twisted. It was going to be an awesome epic series, and the word "Archives" was part of the title.

Then my brother introduced me to the work of Brandon Sanderson, and I realized I'd never be able to write this. If you're familiar with his work, particularly The Way of Kings, you'll understand why by now. (And if not, go read something by him. He's an amazing writer! And you don't have to take my word for it; check out Warbreaker, the novel he put up for free on his website, just because he's awesome like that.  I'd post a link, but this platform doesn't support them.) The stuff I wanted to write was nothing like his work, except that a lot of similar points and themes did end up in stuff he published, and now if I ever wrote my story, people would end up looking at me like I was his Terry Goodkind or Peter Brett, which was the last thing I wanted.  When I read Hoid's speech at the end of The Way of Kings, about originality, I felt like I was about to die from drowning in irony.

Meanwhile, a friend of mine was feeling a little bit down, and I decided to write something amusing to cheer her up. I came up with a somewhat silly story about a wisecracking antihero who ends up rescuing a damsel in distress, with the twist at the end being that the damsel is a lot less distressed than she appeared to be at first, and was actually Aylwyn, an angelic warrior character invented by my friend for an RPG campaign. She liked it, and that was the end of that... until the characters kept going around in my head. Eventually a bunch of pieces started to come together, and I decided to expand the little story I'd created just for fun into an actual story, with a plotline and characters and everything. And one of my basic ideas was, "create something that Brandon Sanderson would never write." I think I did a good job at that point, at least. Not sure whether or not that makes my story any better! ;)

I didn't expect that it would end up taking the better part of a year to write and turn out to be approximately the size of The Hobbit, nor that Aylwyn and Paul's sub-quest would end up taking up so much of the story. I'd originally envisioned it as a few short episodes where he meets Aylwyn, Patrick, Sarah, and Gerald, and then something happens and they end up having to join together as an adventuring party of sorts, on an epic journey to try to save Sarah's captive mother who, it eventually turns out, had been taken by the renegade wizard Ken Tu-kel. But the story just sort of ended up evolving differently, and I like what I ended up with.

There's still more to the tale, of course. I've got some other stuff I'm working on at the moment, but Paul's story will continue after a while, with The Fate of Paul Twister. Watch for it!