“It would help,” Whizzfiddle agreed. “Okay, Gungren, if you’re sure this is what you want, then I’ll support you through it.”
Gungren smiled. “Thank you, master.”
“Don’t be too quick to thank me, Gungren,” Whizzfiddle warned. “Fate Quests have a way of being more persnickety than chasing bunnies around.”
Gungren’s smile faded and he turned to look out the window.
“Good.”
THE GATHERING
Whizzfiddle was used to the unexpected, so when his kitchen was replaced by a small clearing in a forest and he saw a mass of people that he didn’t know—except for Gungren, and who he believed to be Heliok (it had been a few years, after all)—he merely sighed and thanked The Twelve that he had a full flask on his person.
There were two young women wearing chainmail. One was blond and the other brunette. Both were appealing, even to someone who was perpetually 650 years old. Had Whizzfiddle been a much younger man, he would have attempted to help alleviate them from said chainmail, but at his age he’d probably just pull a muscle and would likely end up with a black eye, or two.
Next to them stood a Dark Elf who was wearing a smart skirt and blouse. She was clearly a businessperson of some sort. Again, Whizzfiddle wished he’d still had his youth. He’d always had an interest for Dark Elf ladies, but then, who didn’t?
He had to look down a bit to see the next person in line. It was an irritable-looking Dwarf with stern green eyes, a bulbous nose, and freckles that sat perched upon his ruddy cheeks. His flaming red hair was pulled tightly and braided down the center of his back, and his beard looked to be in a state of meticulous disarray.
Beside the Dwarf was an Elf male. At least Whizzfiddle assumed that. It was often difficult to tell the difference between the males and females when it came to Elves. The Elf was wearing a nametag that said “Eloquen.” Whizzfiddle said the name in his mind a few times, but the sound of it didn’t settle the gender debate. This one was tall and lean with long, white hair, a flawless complexion, perfect teeth, and the Elf's outfit reflected with bits of glitter. This was not surprising.
“Hello, everyone, my name is Heliok and I am a Fate.”
Whizzfiddle sank a little.
“Where are we?” said one of the battle-ready ladies.
“Stand behind me, my lady,” said the other one, who had stepped in front of the first.
The first pulled her out of the way and said, “I’m a far better fighter than you, Kelsa.”
“Good point,” said Kelsa, and then moved behind the first one. “Stand in front of me, lady.”
Heliok chuckled at this and then moved into the center of the group. He glanced around at each of them, pausing and sneering at Whizzfiddle in the process.
“You have all been brought here because of the disappearance of Prince Jack Nubbins.” He pointed at the blond lady. “You, Princess Jill Henroot, are in need of a wizard to assist you in your quest to find your beloved, yes?”
“Uh, yes,” Jill answered. “How do you know that?”
“Again, I am a Fate.”
“You say that in such a way that makes me believe I should recognize what you’re talking about.” Her tone fit the concept of royalty, at any rate.
“Honestly?” said Heliok with a look of disbelief. “Have your clergy taught you nothing?”
“Oh, wait,” the princess said as her eyes widened. “Are you saying that you’re one of The Twelve?”
“I am not saying that, no,” Heliok replied pedantically, causing Whizzfiddle to stifle a laugh. “I created The Twelve, young lady.”
“Hmmm.”
“It’s true, dear,” Whizzfiddle chimed in. “He did create them.” Then, he laced his voice with sarcasm, and added, “Wonderful job doing it, too, I might add.”
Heliok glared. “Are you being sarcastic, wizard?”
“Of course I am.”
“Hmmph! I could return you to your house in an instant.”
“Only if you send Gungren with me,” countered Whizzfiddle. “He’s not allowed to do quests on his own. He’s only got a Wizarding Learner’s Permit.”
“I’m a Fate, remember? I can do whatever I want.”
Whizzfiddle nodded. “Sure you can, assuming you want to go through the paperwork and everything that will come from going against the rules of the Wizards’ Guild.”
“They have no jurisdiction over me,” Heliok replied.
“No, they don’t, but they’ll be the first ones to call in to your customer service department in the event that you attempt to bypass their rules. I’m sure that will be a lot of fun for you.”
“Can’t afford bad feedback right now.” Heliok slumped and shook his head. “Fine, you win this time, Whizzfiddle, but don’t push me.”
“Just protecting my apprentice.”
“Thanks, master,” said Gungren.
“Anyway, Princess Jill,” Heliok continued, “Gungren, here, is the wizard...”
“Apprentice wizard,” corrected Gungren.
“...who will be in charge of your quest,” finished Heliok.
Jill scoffed. “You’re assigning me an apprentice?” She glanced at Gungren. “No offense, little man, but I’m a princess. I shouldn’t be pawned off to some minor wizard who probably can’t even run a quest to catch a bunny rabbit!”
“I just done that quest,” Gungren said, looking a bit injured by her comments.
Whizzfiddle winked at Gungren, trying to give him some encouragement. Even though he was clever and had a good heart, he tended to have a thin skin whenever his abilities were brought into question.
“Can’t I have the old guy instead?” the princess said. “He looks like he’s about to keel over at any moment, but he’s got to have more experience.”
“Keel over?” said Whizzfiddle, rising to his full height.
“He is part of the bargain, unfortunately,” Heliok replied, “but the apprentice is in charge of this quest. He is rather adept already, I assure you.” Heliok paused and looked questioningly at Gungren. “Right?”
“As far as you know,” grumbled the little Giant.
“Well done, Gungren,” Whizzfiddle said, giving his apprentice a pat on the shoulder.
Heliok looked over at Jill. “Satisfied now?”
“Not particularly,” she replied.
Whizzfiddle had been on many quests for kings, queens, princes, and princesses. He knew how terse and exacting they could be. Sometimes this proved to be exactly what was needed when things began to unravel, and they almost always began to unravel at some point, but other times he found them nothing but blunt and rude. His hope was that the princess was merely in a state of angst at the moment.
“I’ll be with him as well,” he said soothingly, “and I’m the longest-living wizard in the history of Ononokin.”
She studied him once more. “Looks like it.”
Whizzfiddle frowned. “How rude.”
“Well, okay, I guess,” Jill said, obviously oblivious to his comment. “I suppose the midget and grandpa will have to do.”
“Grandpa?”
“Sounds like a wonderful book title,” mused Heliok before turning on Whizzfiddle again. “Just remember it’s Gungren’s quest, Whizzfiddle.”
“Just remember he’s my apprentice, Heliok.”
“And you all need to keep in mind that this is my show,” said the Dark Elf lady in the business suit.
“What?” said Whizzfiddle.
“Uh,” Heliok said, jumping in before she could reply, “she means that we have to document everything in the quest. Get it all on camera. Misty Trealo, here, is our person in charge of that. Right, Misty?”
“Right. That’s what I meant.”
This was curious to Whizzfiddle. “Why?”
“Actually,” said Heliok, “it’s because of the little mishap in the adventure that landed you your long-life elixir, Whizzfiddle.”
Whizzfiddle pulled on his collar. “Oh, right.”
“So yo
u going to film this?” Gungren asked Misty.
“Well, no, not exactly,” she replied. “Corg Sawsblade here is in charge of all of that. I just push all the paperwork and make sure the deals are in place.”
“Deals?” asked Whizzfiddle, but then he noticed something about the Dwarf. “Aren’t you the guy who filmed that Barn Hunter’s episode in Planoontik?”
“Aye.”
“And now you’re filming for the Fates?”
“So they tell me.”
“Probably pays better,” Whizzfiddle mused. “Well, Barn Hunters was a good show, actually. That little Gappy Whirligig fellow was quite humorous, I thought, and I especially enjoyed his Orc friend.”
“You mean Shat,” Corg replied with a grunt.
“I thought it was Shrit.”
“Oh, yeah,” Corg said, snapping his fingers and pointing at Whizzfiddle, “that’s after being it.”
“Anyway,” Heliok said, regaining control of the discussion, “rules are rules and so the filming shall be done.” He looked around at them all. “Are there any questions?”
“I got one,” said Gungren.
“Yes?”
“You know where the prince is?”
“I do,” said Heliok.
“Where?”
“Sorry, Gungren,” Heliok answered with a chuckle, “but I can’t tell you that, I’m afraid. That would be breaking the precepts, and we have very strict punishments for when Fates do that.”
“I don’t care about your silly rules, Helltreetop,” Jill spat. “I care about my wedding!”
“Helltreetop?” Heliok said with a huff. “I’m a Fate, young lady. I suggest you try harder to remember that my name is Heliok.”
She merely glared in response.
“Now, I understand your position...”
“Do you?” Jill interrupted.
“Okay, no. Not really, but I can imagine that you are feeling rather worried. Let me just assure you that if I were to tell you where he was, I would be punished, meaning you would lose the ability to do this quest I’m offering. Without me, you don’t find him at all.”
“Can you at least tell us if he’s okay?” asked Kelsa.
“For now, he is fine.”
“Which implies that he’s not going to remain that way,” Jill said with a look of worry. “All that jogging...”
“I didn’t say that,” Heliok said. “Don’t go putting words in my mouth, if you please.”
“So he’s safe?” asked Kelsa.
“I didn’t say that, either.” Heliok held up his hands before the questioning could continue. “These are all the items that our young Gungren will need to learn. He is the quest leader. While the retrieval of your dear prince is of utmost importance to you, Princess Jill, you must understand that this is not your quest. It remains in the hands of the wizard apprentice.” He motioned towards Gungren and a spotlight illuminated the tiny Giant. “Now, if you’re all wise, you’ll do whatever you can to help him succeed, for his success is your success, yes?”
Everyone went quiet after this proclamation.
It was a lot of pressure to be put on Gungren, but Whizzfiddle knew that his apprentice could handle it. If anything, he’d probably thrive because of it. All things considered, it may have been good that Gungren had continued defending against learning the ways of wizardly laziness. At least for now.
“Well, good luck to you all,” Heliok said with a bow. “Time for me to return to the land of the Fates. Misty, I shall return you to your office as well.”
THE MESSENGER
Ah, Mr. Blaze,” said Kleeshay from behind his desk as Kwap’s henchman was escorted into his office, “I was rather expecting you, or at least someone from Kwap’s camp, seeing that I have a leg-up on him.”
“Yeah, okay,” Blaze replied.
Kleeshay set his pen on the desk and then leaned back and steepled his fingers. He had been trying to build a stronger visage as of late since his goal was to become kingpin. Looking powerful was one way of gaining power, at least that’s what all the books he’d been reading claimed. His favorite was Personal Kapow! by Bung Realbuns. It claimed that the mere act of appearing to be in control made others defer to you. It seemed to work around everyone except the other bosses, of course. Take What’s Rightfully Theirs, by Lebbo Murgonaud, was more upfront about grabbing power away, but even she acknowledged that a little bit of showmanship went a long way. Kingpinning For Dummies, by Herb Trower, was packed with all sorts of resources and ideas, including how to set up your office to intimidate others, but it lacked that ruthlessness that an Orc in the mob needed in order to succeed.
“A penny for your thoughts?” he asked with a raised eyebrow.
“Okay,” Blaze said with a shrug, “show me the penny first, though.”
Gespo smacked Blaze on the back of the head. “He wants you to spill the beans, dingbat.”
“Well done, Gespo,” Kleeshay said, pleased that Gespo had used one of his more common sayings, “though I thought what I’d said was as plain as day.”
“Thanks, boss,” Gespo replied, and then added, “I think.”
“So, Mr. Blaze?”
“Uh, okay,” Blaze replied, rubbing his head. “So, uh, Kwap wants me to tell you that he’s getting out of the mob business.”
Kleeshay wanted to lean forward and smile—heck, he wanted to jump up and dance around—but he imagined that the authors who had written the books he’d been studying would have frowned upon such an exuberant reaction... except maybe Mr. Trower. So, instead, he fought to keep himself calm.
“Is that so?” he asked nonchalantly.
“Just sayin’ what he told me,” answered Blaze.
Kleeshay allowed himself a small grin. “It seems that good things truly do come to he who waits.”
“If you say so.”
“But what’s the catch?” Kleeshay asked. “There’s always a catch.”
“You gotta let Prince Jack go.”
“Ha!”
Kleeshay knew this was too good to be true. It was a ruse. A smart one, but one nonetheless. He was suddenly pleased that he’d fought the desire to dance around the room earlier.
“Kwap must believe me to be asleep at the wheel.”
Blaze glanced around the room. “What wheel?”
“It’s just a saying,” Kleeshay replied.
“Oh, right,” Blaze said. “Keep forgetting your name.”
“Meaning?”
“Uh, nothin’. Nothin’ at all.” Blaze cleared his throat. “Anyway, my boss says if you let the prince go, he’ll leave the business.”
“The prince will leave the business?”
“What? Oh, no, sorry. I mean that Kwap will leave the business if you let the prince go.”
“Ah, right, I see. Your wording was...” Kleeshay paused. “Well, anyway, I don’t quite get it.”
“Okay,” Blaze said as his brow furrowed. “Let me try it the other way around. If you don’t let the prince go there will be war.”
“Sorry, you’ve lost me.”
“What’s difficult to understand?” Blaze was now judging Kleeshay as if he were a three-year-old who couldn’t come to grips that you didn’t eat cookies before you ate dinner. “It’s simple: You let the prince go and my boss quits the business; don’t and there will be war. Got it?”
“It’s about as clear as mud to me,” Kleeshay replied in a not-so-fond-of-you-looking-at-me-like-that sort of way.
“My boss said you weren’t easy to get through to sometimes,” said Blaze as he pulled out a small sheet of paper. “Okay, I’ll just read what he wrote: ‘I don’t want to twist your arm, but I’m done being the top banana and I want to turn over a new leaf. But I can’t do that if you don’t let go of the prince. So if you want me out as kingpin, you’ll have to scratch my back so I can scratch yours. If you choose to hang on to him, then you ain’t seen nothin’ yet.’” Blaze looked up. “Does that clear it up?”
“Indeed,” Kleeshay said,
as he ran the words over again in his head. “Interesting, though half-baked. Why would Kwap care about this prince being released if he wants out of the business? The man is his dope supplier, right?”
“I don’t think so,” Blaze answered. “I think the boss said the guy makes rope.”
Kleeshay rolled his eyes at that. Obviously Kwap and Jack had gotten together on their story. Too bad for them that Kleeshay was not an idiot.
“Well,” Kleeshay said after a time, “you tell your boss that if he thinks I’m going to buy something for a song, he’s lost his marbles. I’d rather drink a garlic milkshake and go in guns blazing than give up my ace in the hole.” He sniffed derisively. “He must think I just fell off the turnip truck.”
“Uh... What?”
“Tell him I said ‘No!’”
CLUES
Whenever starting an investigation of this sort,” Whizzfiddle was explaining to Gungren as they stood in the open area where Heliok had left them, “one must hunt for clues.”
“I know, master.”
“You can’t just run in any old direction in the hopes that you’ll find your quarry.”
“I know, master.”
“Doing that will just lead you on wild goose chases.”
“Birds is tricky,” Gungren said and then held up his hand and added, “I know all this already, master.”
“You do?”
“Yep. Remember that I are the one that reads you mystery books before you go to bed every night.”
Whizzfiddle looked around in horror, hoping that nobody had overheard that. A morsel of information about his need to be given warm milk, read a story, and then tucked in so that he could sleep properly could be detrimental to his reputation. The Twelve forbid they learned about his nightlight. Fortunately, it seemed that nobody was paying them any attention.
With a quick smile, he pointed for Gungren to look for clues across the path while he scurried over to one of the trees.
“Hard to get a good filming in when you’re all over the place like this,” Corg complained.
“Why do you need to film everyone?” asked Whizzfiddle as he started in on scanning the ground. “It’s only Gungren who is on the Fate Quest, right?”
The Kidnapped Prince (Tales from the Land of Ononokin Book 5) Page 9