by Bill Ricardi
Seats were taken, and generous amounts of fudge and mead were distributed. I demanded life-updates from our hosts, not seeing nearly enough of them in recent months. Pointing at Titan, I said, “You won an award.”
I don’t recall having ever seen the halfling blush. He blurted, “How in all the hells did you find out about that?”
I said, smugly, “I have spies everywhere.” The reality was, I stumbled onto the story in a fringe publication called ‘Lesser Races’. It was a sort of newsletter published in Ice House, dedicated to non-human, non-orc, and non-elf stories. I liked to keep up on were-cat news.
Soon the whole table was admonishing Titan for keeping secrets. Benno’s cajoling was particularly spirited, as the halfling even kept the news from his own roommate.
Titan held up his hands in surrender. He said, “Okay, okay. It isn’t too big of a deal. Some recent seismic activity ruined a bunch of hillside homes in one of the big halfling communities up North. I knew that my particular magical specialty could help out. So I went up there and dug out a bunch of new homes.”
I peered at the halfling. “Wait. So you’re telling me that the award was for you turning into some kind of giant mole?”
Titan mumbled something incomprehensible.
Ames prompted the halfling, “What was that?”
Louder this time, Titan said, “Giant gopher.”
There was a lot of unrestrained laughter from all around the table.
It was Benno who rose to his roommate’s defense. He said, “But seriously, you single handedly created dozens of homes for these people?”
The flushed halfling nodded.
My son said, “Well. That’s the real magic, isn’t it?” He raised his glass of mead. “To Titan.”
We all echoed, “To Titan!”
When the toast was over, we found a new target for our inquisitiveness. It was Celestial who got the ball rolling.
“So Moria, have you decided whether or not this is going to be your last year at the University?”
All eyes turned to the now-squirming wererat. Well almost all eyes. Little Granite was focused on trying to grab a fragment of that forbidden fudge.
Moria murmured, “I haven’t made the final decision yet. This whole potion thing really took off in ways that I didn’t expect.”
Green commented, “Quasi-elementalists aren’t supposed to have any kind of commercial value. You’re ruining a perfectly good stereotype.”
My were-cat was having a hard time following this line of thought. Seeing Ames’ confusion, the wererat explained, “I’m using new techniques to create more concentrated potions. It still takes the same amount of time, but the potency means that every batch has more applications.”
Benno chimed in, “Rick and Will have already trialled a small batch of her potions. They flew off the shelves. Less volume, more impact, same price. Hard to argue against.”
Moria was self-deprecating. “It’s just a little trick. Anyone could have come up with it, I just got lucky.”
Patricia pressed, as she restrained Granite’s little hands to keep them fudge free, “Didn’t you do your entire dissertation on it last year? Wasn’t it something like a 250 page volume?”
“Yes.”
I snorted and said, “Oh one of those simple little 250 page alchemy tricks. That’s all.”
The wererat sighed, “I honestly don’t know what to do. My father is over the moon. He’s telling all of his friends. The next family get together is going to be unbearable. I could go off and do this full time, or I could stay on here and become a magical research fellow. I have no idea which path is best. But I guess it’s nice to have options.”
Benno raised his glass for another toast. “To options.”
“To options!” we all echoed.
It was Ames’ turn to prod one of our hosts. The feline said, “So, Green. I couldn’t help but notice that your real name was in the most recently published rolls from the Adventurer’s Guild. How did that happen?”
The dirty blond human’s expression became somber. He murmured, “That was my first time, I’m still a provisional member. We thought that we were going on a research mission. Nobody could have predicted the peril that we were going to face.”
The bottom floor of the Apprentice Library went quiet, except for the cooing and babbling of my youngest son. I asked, “Do you want to talk about it, buddy?”
Green pushed away from the table, the legs of his chair scraping across the floor. He stood and started to pace, slowly. “I-I’m not sure I can talk about it yet. I’m still too close to the whole matter.” He paused, and then asked us, “Can I use some presentation magic? It would make things, you know. Easier.”
We all gave the young man our consent, wanting to be supportive. Green adjusted his spectacles before reaching out to pick up his lute. He started to strum out a short, flowing tune.
Bardic magic was a mystery to me. How one could replace hand gestures with instrumental manipulations and vocal components with musical chords was beyond my expertise. It took a lot of talent and an unwavering commitment to the craft. But practitioners of the bardic arts were able to do some amazing things. They traded raw spell power for a much broader scope. Their illusions were meant to entertain an entire audience; their inspirational battle magic, an entire battalion.
Soon the tabletop became a grassy valley. Our glasses and plates morphed into trees and ponds. The illusion was vast, sweeping past the edges of the table and putting us right into the middle of Green’s retelling of the tale.
When the transformation was complete, Green allowed his lute playing to slow. The chords became more of a background sound, allowing the young man’s voice to take center stage.
“It was a month before midterms, and we had a long weekend for the elven holiday. Headmaster Max approached me, probably because there were no other bards available. He said that this would be the perfect mission to get my feet wet. Strictly research. No real danger. If only I had known then what I know now.”
Four figures appeared at the edge of the illusionary field, features vague and obscured save for one individual. The one well-defined figure was Green himself, or at least an exaggerated caricature of the young man.
“They needed a bard to soothe any savage beasts that they might happen across. We didn’t expect much wildlife, to be honest. It was the grasslands Northeast of Limt, butting up to the foothills. I was just there in case we needed to gently coax a bear out of its lair or something. I wasn’t prepared for what we encountered. None of us were.”
The tone of Green’s strumming changed. The chords became deeper, more urgent and rhythmic. Suddenly the entire illusion shifted and zoomed in. We were surrounded by tall grass in all directions.
The bard said, “Out of nowhere, a pair of glowing eyes peered at us from the grass. Then a second. Then, dozens more.”
Undeniably feline eyes surrounded us on all sides; a large hunting pack. Cougars were common in these foothills, where prey was plentiful and man was scarce. There was a single low growl from somewhere behind me.
“We had no time to prepare. The trap was set perfectly. There would be no soothing music, no time for prayers or incantations. Because just as our minds were registering the danger, they leapt.”
There was a sensation of vertigo as a dozen felines broke cover and flew right at our faces. At the same time, Green strummed a couple of quick chords and our perspective rose up and tilted.
The bard announced, dramatically, “Kittens!”
There was a chorus of groans. Green manipulated the perspective. The tall elephant grass was just normal sized grass. We watched as the pack of farm kittens, being observed by their mother with a hint of disapproval, attacked the boots and ankles of the four adventurers.
Green said solemnly, “Nary a sock or cloak was left intact that day, I’m afraid.”
Ames nodded, “Cats are dangerous creatures.”
Celestial rolled his eyes. He said, “Please don
’t encourage him.”
Parsnip noted, “At least one of us was more than a little impressed.”
In the half elf’s lap, Granite was absolutely spellbound. He watched the illusionary kittens frolic and ‘attack’ the four adventurers. The baby boy’s jaw refused to close.
Manipulating the four stringed lute deftly, Green shrunk the entire illusion down to just a few handspans. Then he focused in on the leaping kittens, and placed the feline diorama just above the head of mother and child.
We made small talk and finished our fudge. All the while, Patricia rocked the half orc in her arms as the boy stared upwards in wide-eyed wonder. Inevitably, Granite fell asleep a few minutes later.
I murmured, “To the bard.”
My friends joined me in raising a glass to Green. He smiled and stilled the strings of his lute.
I drained the remainder of my drink in a single pull. When the music had faded, I felt a were-cat elbow poking me in the ribs. I glanced over and nodded, indicating that I thought this would be a good time to make an exit. Ames and I said our goodbyes, leaving the younger folks to battle over the remaining honey mead. As we made our way back to the South Wing and our plush guest room, the two of us shared a comfortable silence.
That night, I slept better than I had in a year.
Chapter 4
Of course even the deepest of sleeps can be ruined by a freezing cold paw on one’s nipple.
I shouted and nearly fell out of bed. I heard Ames wince at my violent reaction.
“Sorry, sorry. I rushed up here right away, haven’t had time to thaw. You need to hear this.”
I sat up in bed and grumbled. My Light cantrip was centered on the closest thing I could grab: Rock. I tended to keep Rock handy when I slept, just in case. Wrapping myself in a bathrobe, I headed over to our small dining table and sat. I placed Rock in the center of the table, illuminating most of the room.
I grumbled, “You have my undivided attention.”
The were-cat sat opposite me. “I got a message at some ungodly hour in the morning. They said it was Guild business and they could really use my help. So I arranged transport and went to an early meeting to get the details. With me so far?”
Still half asleep, I said, “Mmm hmm.”
“So these people, who I’ve never met before by the by, have sweets and warm cocoa waiting for me. They tell me that they have a quest and that I’ve come highly recommended. All the while they’re plying me with all these delectable little treats. It was bizarre.”
I nodded. “Mmm hmm.”
Ames continued, “As they’re going over the details, I start putting it all together. They never said Adventurer’s Guild. They’re constantly giving me these amazing hors d'oeuvres. Their quest is about crop failures near Tatertown. I had been summoned to a meeting with the Culinary Guild!”
My mate’s words rattled around my head for a while. I was trying to rate the quality of Ames’ joke. It was somewhat funny. Just not at this hour.
“I’m going back to bed.”
Ames stood up so quickly, their chair fell over. Cold paws pushed down on my shoulders, encouraging me to keep my seat. The cat said, “No, no. Sorch, I’m being serious. We’ve got a quest from the Culinary Guild, and I think we should do it.”
I stared up at the were-cat. “The Culinary Guild. The one you had to join because you used their name to con that poor kid at the asylum? The one that you’ve been part of for two years and the most interesting thing they’ve done is a charity bake sale? The Guild you called a ‘glorified club’ and, I quote, ‘a complete waste of time and space’?”
The feline said, in a somewhat defeated tone, “Yeah, that’s the one.”
“They. Have a quest. For us.”
“To investigate crop failures near Tatertown, yes.”
I was fully woken up at this point. Something in my head clicked. I said, “Oh gods. And we have to do it, don’t we?”
Ames looked puzzled. “I haven’t made any commitment yet, if that’s what you’re asking.”
I groaned aloud. Then I reminded Ames, “You must be open to new opportunity.”
The feline blinked those lovely emerald green eyes at me. Ames said, “You’re right.”
I mumbled, “This is such lizard crap.”
Ames decided to rub it in by being overly enthusiastic. “We’re on a quest for the Culinary Guild! Hooray!”
I scowled at my mate. Wanting to burst the feline’s bubble, I started to list all of the obstacles in our way. I said, “The minotaurs aren’t available, which means we need to find a healer or a medic.”
Ames took a paw from my shoulder and extended a single claw, signifying the first objection had been dealt with, “A fellow Culinary Guild member, and powerful healer, has already agreed to help. Do you remember Hierophant Petrinoth from the greenhouses in Ice House?”
I must have looked suitably impressed, because my reaction made Ames nod. “Okay, more than acceptable. But with the human lads retired, we need more firepower.”
More hesitant this time, the cat said, “Max will give us Benno and allow him to start late by a week. We said we’d let him adventure with us, and more than just deep sea diving. But if you don’t think he’s ready I can keep looking.”
I threw my hands in the air. There was no valid objection, even if I didn’t like it. I said, “He’s apparently one of the most promising students here. He’s got to sacrifice his most powerful spells for Max’s version of the enhancement, but there’s no doubting his prowess. Let’s show him the family business.”
Ames ticked up a second claw, but saw that I wasn’t happy. The paw that was still on my shoulder drifted up to stroke my cheek. “Okay. Anything else?”
I said, “We’re still down a front line fighter. I don’t want you isolated up there without Toby or someone else to watch your back.”
Ames nodded, as in if expecting this objection. A third claw extended to join the other two. The feline said, “That would be our local guide. I met him at the meeting, and apparently you know him. It’s Bruce.”
I stared at my mate for a moment. “I have no idea who that is.”
“Bruce? He said he knew you from a number of years back.”
I snorted and said, “Dear, I was in a swamp a number of years back. Is this person trying to snow blind you with some story abo-”
The were-cat cut me off, “He said you saved his life? On a caravan trip. You dragged him into the passenger's seat when he was wounded fighting some undead?”
My jaw dropped. “The hells you say. The kid with the… was he wearing some kind of coppery scale mail armor, real shiny like?”
“That’s him.”
I muttered, “Of all the damnedable things.” Then louder, for Ames’ benefit, “He was green back then, but if he’s still alive after three years on caravans, I imagine he’s capable.”
Ames smiled at me, sweetly. “Then I’m afraid, my dear, we have a party. We can all be in Tatertown by noon, getting briefed and making plans. Shall I make the arrangements?”
I nodded. It seemed that fate had decided.
As Ames ran around making things happen, I prepared my morning spells. Knowing that we’d have time to study at least once more before encountering serious danger, preparation included Max’s Expanded Intelligence. When the casting was done, a gold piece evaporated, going off to join the dozens that had been sacrificed before. My Amulet of Enhanced Enchanting flared briefly, as if barely able to contain the power being channeled through it. The rush of raw intellect and an almost spiritual euphoria completely overshadowed any sensation of drain caused by the orcish curse. I collapsed in my bed as the physical strain hit, panting like I had just run two thousand paces. But at the same time, I basked in the almost addictive afterglow of the powerful enhancement spell. Oftentimes, this was the best fifteen minutes of my day outside of the time I spent with Ames.
After I recovered, retrieved Rock, and bathed, I went down to the cafeteria and grabbe
d a cold breakfast. The sandwich had four herb cheese, tomato, and fresh dandelions. I was particularly proud of the dandelions. My friendship with the cooking staff allowed me to introduce a couple of aspects of orcish cuisine to key decision makers. Upon experiencing the crunch and taste of what they once considered useless weeds, dandelions started making a regular appearance on the menu.
I ate my sandwich on the jog. We agreed to meet in the reception hall to register a destination and then take a place in line. As this wasn’t a mission for either the Arcane University or the Adventurer’s Guild, and we were going to benefit from the excursion, my family would have to wait in line for the Circle of Transport like everyone else. Students who were used to seeing us cut to the front gave us a good natured ribbing. We allowed Benno to defend the family honor. Although some of his jibes and retorts were more crude than what I would have chosen, I still gave him high marks.
When our names were called for the use of the Circle, there was a chorus of booing and laughter. We stepped up onto the runed copper plate, Ames waving to the crowd as if emulating some kind of feline royalty. I thought of a great final jibe that I could shout out to the gathered students…
...but suddenly, we were elsewhere.
The teleportation site for the Temple of Vinara in Tatertown was in the centre of a vine garden. Towering walls of wisteria, trumpet vines, and clematis surrounded us. Intricate frames had been built so that the plants grew in the shapes of horses, or towers, or lions. It was amazing.
After exchanging polite greetings with the keeper at the back gate, we looked down upon the sprawling city of Tatertown from our hillside vantage. Miles of wood and brick suburbs surrounded a core city center. Towering factories and mills dominated the middle of the landscape, before giving way to the docks and the naval yard in the distance. Tatertown mixed the old and the very new, sometimes without much grace. But nobody could fault their dedication to progress and commerce.
The reason we were able to see all of this was simple: No temples were allowed inside of the city limits. Tatertown was the only major city on Panos to have an ordinance enforcing a strict separation of religious and government services and activities. Anyone could worship as they liked, but religious organizations were not afforded the rights of businesses or private landowners. That meant no place of worship could benefit from the city watch, from the fire brigade, from the city-built sewers, or from the roadworks. Every temple had to be located outside of the city limits and provide for themselves.