by Guy Antibes
“That tastes good,” Lullan said. “This inn has some of the best ale in Garri.” The minister took another long sip. “Now, I understand you have permission to move about the country?”
“We do,” Pin said. “Ornetta had us put up a bond, and we have travel papers.”
Lullan nodded his head. “Remind me what you are looking for?”
The way the minister asked indicated he already knew the entire story. Whit pitched in and described their expedition, but he suspected that Deechie had already met with the interior minister.
“I’m not sure you can remove precious treasures from Perisia,” Lullan said. “Convince me why I should give you the permission to do so.”
“Don’t, then,” Deechie said. “Don’t give them permission. They can go elsewhere.”
Lullan turned to the human and narrowed his eyes. “Weren’t you the human that submitted an application to conduct archeological research?”
“He is,” the woman said.
“It wasn’t in behalf of this group?” Lullan asked.
“There are two groups. I’m connected to both,” Deechie said, turning red.
“You want this group to give up, and you want the other to succeed? It seems you are being very unfair with Piesson’s expedition?”
“The human’s application makes no mention of removing valuable artifacts,” the female aide said.
“Did you know about this, Piesson?” Lullan asked.
“I suspected something of the sort,” Pin said. “I joined the group at Barkle Town, and from what I understand, this behavior is consistent with how he has acted. Deechie is attached to Whit Varian’s group through a political demand.”
Lullan laughed. “We both know about political demands, don’t we?”
“We do, Minister,” Pin said.
“I have an idea,” Gambol said. “When we retrieve the Augur’s Eye parts, we will attempt to make copies and return the originals to you. We discussed the possibility of a formal borrowing process with the prime minister. She didn’t commit to anything.”
“You have talked to the king?” Lullan asked.
“We tried. He was distracted, so we sought out Ornetta and you,” Pin said. “That is still normal practice, isn’t it?”
Lullan laughed and took another swig from his mug. He held it up for a server to fill. “It is. What will you do for me, if I give you permission to dig up my country?”
Whit opened his mouth, but Pin spoke. “You get credit for finding lost Perisian treasures. You might find a barrel of this inn’s fine ale delivered to your back door.”
“A barrel you say? Maybe a barrel every few months for a year?”
Pin barely smiled. “Who knows what might be delivered?”
“Fine. I’ll think about it. I’d like to see you and the elf in three days in my office.” Lullan cleared his throat. “Now that the unpleasantness is over, let’s have dinner!”
Without the taint of politics, Lullan and his two aides made dinner enjoyable. The male aide was an expert magician and performed pixie-style magic tricks during dinner, and Lullan had an endless supply of jokes and anecdotes. Pin added a few anecdotes of his own, but it was clear that he wanted Lullan to continue to entertain everyone.
Finally, the interior minister stood up. “My wife and kiddies await,” he said.
He looked too old to have “kiddies” at home, but Whit didn’t say a word. They stood and said goodbye to the interior minister, except for Deechie, and sat back down.
“What are we going to do with you?” Gambol said to Deechie after Lullan Gastian and his staff left the room.
Deechie managed a slimy grin. “My side makes the rules,” he said. “You can’t fire me as advisor.”
“Then you are to be perpetually ignored,” Gambol said, “and you will have to be on your toes to keep up with us because we won’t wait for you at any point in the future.”
“Other than that, you are still our advisor—” Pin said
“In name only,” Razz said interrupting the pixie.
Whit looked at Deechie. “Do you hate us that much?”
Deechie shrugged. “What is hate? There is only me and my professorship to think about. I was told…” He stopped talking.
Whit knew he was told to sabotage their activities and promote the magic college’s expedition. That hadn’t been much of a secret. In the back of his mind, Deechie had deserved a little respect, but that was until tonight. The respect evaporated after more of Deechie’s lies were revealed along with his representing the other team to the Perisian government.
“You can no longer act in our name,” Whit said. “If you do, there will be consequences.”
“Consequences,” Deechie snorted. “Show me your consequences.”
“At the proper time,” Whit said and left the room to be followed by everyone else.
Chapter Eleven
~
T he minister of interior watched Whit and Pin sit down at the other side of his desk.
“You have made your decision?” Pin asked.
“I talked to Ornetta, but not King Quiller. He has spent the last few days watching his beloved scout team losing to the Serincia national team close to the border,” Lulu said before pursing his lips.
He seemed strangely happy about it, Whit thought.
“I am willing to give you a conditional approval to search for your items. The items must be inspected by pixie scholars in Garri before you can copy them. As for their removal, it will take the king to decide if you are allowed to take your finds to Ayce.”
Whit and Pin nodded. That was about what they hoped the restrictions would be. Whit was a bit concerned about getting final approval from the king, but Gambol and Fistian swore they could duplicate the hardware.
The pair of gnomes had spent the last three days finding a suitable metalworking shop that allowed them to do castings, since Gambol thought it might be easier to create castings from the items they were to retrieve.
“What kind of authorization do we need?” Pin asked.
“I have drawn them up. One for each of you. Greeb Deechie asked for one, but I declined his request. I assume I did the right thing?” Lullan asked.
“You did. Deechie represents the other expedition,” Pin said.
Lullan pushed an envelope with the two one-page authorizations over. “I am trusting you, Piesson. Don’t make me regret doing this favor.”
“You won’t, and your thirst won’t,” Pin said.
“This is not the place to talk about my thirst,” Lullan said.
Outside the interior offices, Pin and Whit were joined by Gambol and Fistian and proceeded to return to their inn.
Whit waved the envelope.
“You have permission?” Fistian asked.
“Conditional,” Pin said, “but we knew that.”
“The worst condition?” Gambol asked.
“Reluctance to remove the parts, and those will require the king’s permission,” Whit said. “We still have time to get that, but I think we should have some success, first.”
“I hadn’t thought of that,” Gambol said, “but I think you are right. Where is the king in all this?”
“Out of Garri,” Pin said, “on the Serincia border with the royal scout team.” His eyes lit up. “Before we leave the capital, let’s find out when he returns. Perhaps you can use your athletic abilities to convince King Quiller that you can be trusted with the Eye components.”
“We can’t do that in every country that we visit,” Razz said.
“But you can in Perisia, and that is where we are right now,” Gambol said. “With Deechie playing for the other side, we need all the help we can get with the king.”
Gambol took Whit aside as the others entered the inn. “I think you ought to know that Fistian and I talked about the parts and there might be channels on the inside that we can’t see or parts with multiple metals that might not be obtainable in Garri. Taking the parts with us is much preferred.
”
Whit nodded. “Of course, it is, but we will cross that river when we get to it. There won’t be any decisions to make if we don’t find the artifacts.”
“Right, you are. Where should we go?”
“Before we leave Garri, I have an appointment with a pixie called Jonny Evia. Maybe Fistian can come with me.”
~
Cornno’s Pub had seen better days. The bright colored paint had chipped off revealing lots of other colors. Whit looked around the neighborhood and most of the houses looked similar, but it seemed that the pub had been repainted more times than anything else. The predominate color was a light green, and in Whit’s opinion, that wasn’t particularly appealing for a pub, but he wasn’t a pixie.
“No fighting,” Whit said when they walked in.
At least fifty angry eyes turned toward Whit and Fistian.
“What are you folk doing in here?” the bartender said wiping the glass bottom of a mug.
The voice wasn’t light and friendly, Whit thought. If these were Ritta’s friends, he couldn’t picture Ritta Misennia as anything other than a thug, especially after the mind-magic attack on Yetti.
Whit walked up to the bartender and said in quiet voice. “I am looking for Jonny Evia. Do you know him?”
There was laughter behind Whit, and it wasn’t the “laughing with” kind.
“Maybe we should leave,” Fistian whispered in Whit’s ear. “You said no fighting, but it might be unavoidable if we want to walk out of here.”
“What did he say?” one of the pixies drinking at the bar asked.
“He suggested it might be better if we left. It isn’t our intent to stir up trouble.”
“Ah, pet, but you already have,” a pixie male said, but Whit gave him a second look and had to amend the pixie’s sex.
Whit tossed a note that he had already prepared with his contact information on the bar. “If any of you know Jonny Evia, ask him to contact me here.” He took Fistian by the sleeve and was about to retreat to the door.
“We don’t like gnomes and elves sneaking into our pub,” the speaker turned to the others. “Do we?”
“No!” the pixies almost said as one.
“Do you not like wood elves or do you dislike sky elves?” Fistian asked.
“There isn’t a difference in our minds. Elves are elves,” the bartender said.
“Then what is the difference between a pixie and a gnome?” Fistian said. There was too much defiance in his voice for Whit’s comfort.
The bartender grinned. “Flight, for one. If you can get from here to the door without touching the floor, we will let you go without a scratch.”
“Is that so?” Whit said. “Then we will be leaving you. Please give Jonny the message.”
Whit grabbed Fistian by the gnome’s belt and flew him to the door. He set Fistian down and threw the door open. “Out!” he said, pushing Fistian through the door. He followed, but something hit him in the back of his head. A mug’s glass bottom shattered on the pavement, but more mugs some with liquid and some empty followed.
It was Fistian’s turn to do the dragging, and soon they were halfway down the block. Whit tried to shake the cobwebs out of his head and looked back at the pub. A single man exited, heading straight toward them. He was balding but was younger than Gambol and looked very fit.
“Stop,” Whit said, holding onto a lamp post. “Maybe that is someone who knows Jonny Evia.”
Fistian posed to strike the pixie, but the man held up his hands as he approached.
“Come with me and I’ll have you checked out,” the pixie said. “I’m Jonny Evia. I knew Ritta told you to find me at the pub. She should have known better.”
“How come you were there?” Whit asked, fighting the pain in his skull.
“I own the building and live above Cornno’s. I came down when you first arrived. That isn’t a pub for other folk.”
“If you live there…” Whit was about to ask.
“I have other businesses around here including a medical clinic.” Jonny Evia said. “I hope the healer knows what to do with elves. She is excellent with pixies. You can call me Jonny.”
Fistian and Jonny took the much taller Whit between them and walked through a nearby alley to a different street where the pixie directed them to a storefront. They entered a lobby half full of pixies of all ages.
“Through here,” Jonny said, leading Whit by one arm with Fistian helping hold up Whit with the other. They entered a back room that was painted white. The examination bed was higher than a normal bed, with a thin mattress and a clean sheet.
“Can you lay on your stomach?” Jonny asked Whit.
Whit managed to flip over which wasn’t particularly easy with a bed a foot and a half shorter than he. Jonny walked over and examined the back of Whit’s head.
“That is a proud bump,” the pixie said. “It’s bleeding a little, but the damage is the lump not the cut.”
“I’m almost seeing double, and I’ve got a splitting headache,” Whit said.
A pixie woman walked in wearing a white apron over a bright red dress trimmed with light green ribbons. Her hair almost matched the color of the dress and the thinner ribbons were the exact same green.
“You brought in an elf?” she said with astonishment.
“See to him first. I’ll arrange a carriage to take them back to the city center.” Jonny turned to Whit. “If you are able, I’ll see you tonight at your inn, and you’ll treat me to dinner. I wish Cornno’s could buy the ale that the innkeeper makes for his customers, so that will be the payment for helping you. I have to get back to the pub and settle things down. Fanni can help you from here.”
Jonny left Fistian and Whit staring at the little woman who stared right back at them.
“Now what happened?”
Fistian volunteered to relate the events in the pub.
“Your friend flew you out of the pub?” Fanni said in disbelief.
“He is an exceptionally good flyer. He can pick up players in the game of scout so he doesn’t get sacrificed.” Fistian grinned at her.
Fanni raised her eyebrow. “Pixies are lucky to get off the ground if they are wearing more clothes than normal. What are you doing in this part of Garri?”
Whit told her about being asked to contact Ritta by someone in Ayce and that she invaded his room and left a message to see Jonny Evia. “That is all I know,” Whit said. “I’m not even a messenger. I was just supposed to get a way to contact her.”
“You are a spy?” Fanni said as she examined Whit’s hair. “What’s this? You aren’t a sky elf, are you? This is more like wood elf hair, as I understand it. You’ve colored it to pass for a sky elf, but you can fly?”
“I’m a combination of things,” Whit said, blinking away the pain.
Fanni snorted. “There isn’t supposed to be a ‘combination of things’ in this world. We aren’t built to interbreed,” she said, looking at Fistian. “As big and brawny and handsome as this lad, he wouldn’t be able to sire a pixie-gnome off of me, and that’s Varetta’s Truth.”
“Varetta, the pixie saint?” Whit asked.
“Few know of her anymore. The saints left us eons ago, but there are a few of us who have been passed the stories.”
“My father was a sky elf and my mother a wood elf, but she was a combination of other folk. I don’t know how or why, but I’m their offspring.”
Fanni nodded. “Let’s see if a little pixie magic works on whatever you are then.”
Whit felt a searing heat in his skull, and then his mind cleared up. “I don’t know what you did, but I’m better.”
“Of course, you are. Pixies are the best at healing. It’s the wild magic we all wield. I don’t know why, but you do have a bit of pixie magic in you. I could tell by the way your body reacted. Maybe you should be the one to try to do the siring,” she said leering at Whit.
“Not me!” Whit said. “Can I ask you a question about Jonny Evia?”
“
He is my boss, but why not?”
“He owns the pub and a clinic. Aren’t those at odds with each other?”
Fanni shrugged. “Where else are his patrons going to get good treatment after a brawl?” She smiled. “He has his hands in a lot of things. Some of them are best left unsaid, and it won’t be me to mention them.” She brushed her hands on her apron, soiling it with a little of Whit’s blood. Fanni looked down and frowned before taking off the apron and reversing it. “I have to wash five or six of these, every night.” Fanni looked up. “I’ll show you the door to the back, and then I have to get back to my patients.”
In a few moments, Whit and Fistian were heading back to the inn.
“What was that all about?” Fistian asked.
Whit shook his pain-free head. “I don’t know, but Fanni is certainly an interesting pixie.”
“I’ll admit, some pixies can be more interesting than gnomes. I never knew that pixies and gnomes couldn’t, you know…”
“Produce offspring? I knew. It is rare, but it is also true that there are gnomes born with magic and flying wood elves,” Whit said.
“The wood elf flyer on the scout team?” Fistian asked.
“And Torius Pott, the pixie magic professor,” Whit said. “And me. Who knows what I am? But let’s hope Jonny Evia shows up for dinner. I think I’ll meet with him alone.”
“Pin could join you,” Fistian said.
“No. Pin is too tied into the government, and I wouldn’t want Jonny Evia to be compromised,” Whit said, “or Pin, for that matter.”
~
Whit sat at a table in the dining room waiting for Jonny Evia to show up at the inn. He shuffled through the papers that related to the Eye artifacts in Perisia while looking at a map of the country. He noticed someone standing in front of him.
“Going over your itinerary?” Jonny said, looking at the map. “Why are you hanging around in Garri, anyway?”
“Didn’t Ritta tell you? We are here on an expedition to retrieve some ancient magical objects, and along the way, I was asked by an acquaintance in the Aycean government to contact Ritta. Nothing more, nothing less, just contact her. She found me and asked me to visit you.” Whit gingerly rubbed his head. “I didn’t expect to be attacked.”