Q: Are dragons hungry?
A: Is the sky blue?
Q: Are dragons fast?
A: Should a tax collector be avoided whenever possible?
Q: Do dragons eat wizards?
A: Have you forgotten to remind the reptiles of your facility with indigestion spells?
From Ask Mr. Magic: A Wizard’s Guide to 364 of Today’s Most Pressing Sorcerous Problems, scholastic edition, by Ebenezum, greatest wizard in the Western Kingdoms
Uncle Spike led us to the entrance of a very large cave.
“This is the place,” the older dragon chuckled. “Allow me to introduce us.” He yelled into the cave:
“Let your pages do the walking through the yellow fingers!”
“It’s no wonder, with prices like that!” another voice roared in response.
Spike and the voice inside the cave laughed heartily.
“I’m beginning to see a pattern here,” Hubert muttered darkly. “A pattern I don’t like at all.”
“Come on,” Spike waved for us to follow. “Let’s go in and see Morty.”
“Morty?” Snarks, obviously unable to help himself, said again.
Hubert reluctantly followed.
“Hey, Morty!” Spike called. “Guess who’s here? It’s your brother Huey!”
“Huey?” Snarks asked.
“I told you I didn’t want to come back here,” Hubert replied.
“What?” Morty’s voice called. “The smokeless wonder is back again? Well, come on in!”
“I suppose I have to,” Hubert murmured, walking forward as if every step was an effort.
“The smokeless won—“ Snarks began before a particularly sharp look from me silenced him. I figured that Hubert was in enough distress without a demonic chorus.
The dragon carried us into a truly massive cavern, larger even than the great hall at the wizards’ college. But what really took my breath away were the huge tapestries covering every available foot of walls and ceiling, each great hanging sporting a sewn-in message.
SEE THE SOUTHERN KINGDOMS! MOTHER DUCK’S REALM—A FAIRYLAND
FOR MERE PIECES OF GOLD! THE WESTERN KINGDOMS—THERE’S MORE
THERE THAN MEETS THE EYE!
THE LAND OF THE DRAGONS—YOUR VACATION IN THE CLOUDS!
Each of the tapestries also featured elaborate illustrations. The one concerning the Southern Kingdoms showed a large picture of the sun, while the Mother Duck hanging prominently displayed a large castle. Only the tapestry for the Western Kingdoms was fairly nondescript.
And in the midst of the tapestries squatted the largest dragon I had ever seen, half again the size of Hubert and bright red besides.
“Huey!” the huge reptile rumbled. “And how’s my pip-squeak brother?”
“I’m glad to see you, too, Morty,” Hubert managed miserably.
“Hear you’ve done pretty well down among the humans,” Morty went on cheerily. “Who would’ve thought it?”
“Morty,” Hubert said, barely managing his temper, “I’m here for a reason.”
“Really?” his brother remarked heartily. “You want another flame-shooting contest? Or maybe we can compare our gold hordes?”
“It’s no time for games, Morty,” Hubert replied. “Besides, you always win.”
“And you always were a spoilsport, Huey,” Morty chuckled. “But maybe I can do something for you, anyway.”
“I understand you’ve got a successful travel business—“ Hubert continued doggedly.
“You see it all around you!” Morty cheered, tossing his massive head back and forth at the various tapestries that crowded the room. “At last, I’ve found a way to satisfy a dragon’s wanderlust! Yes, you could say Morty’s Travel is a roaring success. What else would you expect from your older brother? But you said you needed help.”
There was a commotion at the mouth of the cave.
“That was no lady,” a voice called, “that was my wife!”
‘ “The joke’s on him,” another voice added. ‘ “The mouse is a ventriloquist.”
“Sorry,” Morty yelled back. “You can’t get in here without a tie!”
Morty and Spike laughed along with the two new voices. Hubert shivered quietly.
“My worst fears have been realized,” he whispered.
The floor shook as two other dragons, one a dull orange, the other sort of a red-brick tone, trundled into the back of the cave.
“Dewey!” Morty greeted the newcomers. “Ferdie!”
“Dewey?” Snarks repeated. “Ferdie?”
“Oh, my,” the dull-orange dragon remarked as he glanced our way. “ Hors-devours.”
“I’ve done it again, haven’t I?” Snarks whispered in horror. I nodded. The demon did have a way of attracting the attention of others. Very large others. It was interesting, I reflected, how ineffectual one seemed in the presence of giant reptiles. I might have a magic sword and a magic ferret, but what use was either of them against fire-breathing lizards? I thought again of the Brownie, but realized that even shoe magic would be ineffectual against creatures of this size; creatures who seemed to be showing all too much interest in Snarks and me.
“No, no, Ferdie!” Hubert interjected. “These are friends.”
“Very appetizing friends,” Ferdie agreed. “But we shouldn’t eat before we are properly introduced, should we?”
“Always know your food,” Dewey agreed. “That’s a dragon’s guide to happy digestion.”
“So!” Morty boomed. “What brings you fellows here? Need a few travel tips?”
“We always get our travel tips from you,” Ferdie said.
“Wouldn’t go anyplace else than Morty’s Travel,” Dewey amplified.
“That’s why we’re number one!” Morty exclaimed cheerily. “Of course, with me in charge, what else could we be?”
“Still, there are improvements that could be made,” Ferdie continued, eyeing Snarks and me with far too much interest.
“Most certainly,” Dewey added, saliva dripping from his huge incisors. “Like the introduction of a snack tray for hungry customers.”
“Yes!” Uncle Spike agreed from the far side of the room. “The very idea that I suggested earlier!”
“It doesn’t have to be anything out of the ordinary,” Dewey explained further. “Simply some of your dragon staples. Say, like these fellows here. Nice, bite-size creatures from down below. So round, so soft, so succulent!”
“Yes, soft is a must,” Ferdie concurred. “None of those exotic things with exoskeletons, please! They hurt my teeth.”
“Never eat an unknown species,” Spike added sagely.
“Another tip for happy dragon digestion,” Dewey concluded. “But how do we split them up?”
“They are a little on the small side,” Ferdie agreed.
“Oh, everyone will get their share,” Uncle Spike assured them. “Anybody got a knife?”
“Wait a second!” Hubert roared. “Hasn’t anybody been listening? My friends are not for eating!”
“Not even a bite?” Ferdie frowned.
“Look at all the arms and legs they have,” Dewey demanded. “Surely they wouldn’t miss one or two?”
“Out of the question!” Hubert replied adamantly.
“Huey never was one to share his playthings,” Morty remarked.
“Share them?” Hubert retorted. “If you saw them, you took them!”
“Now, now, boys,” Uncle Spike chided. “We shouldn’t let old family grudges spoil this fine reunion, should we? Let’s put all thoughts of eating and generously sharing our food aside for a moment, and officially welcome Hubert back to his homeland!”
Dewey and Ferdie cheered.
“So you really are a song-and-dance dragon?” Ferdie asked enthusiastically.
“We’ve got all your clippings,” Dewey added. “At least all of those we could find on our trips through the lowlands.”
“It’s sort of a sideline while we’re pillaging and bum-ing,” Ferdie explained.
“Yes, yes,” Morty interrupted. “I’m sure we’re all glad to see Huey again. But isn’t it time to talk travel?”
“That’s right,” Dewey harmonized. “We always come to Morty’s travel. After all, isn’t Morty Hubert’s brother?”
“His brother? B-but that’s beside the point when Morty’s gives you such great travel services!” Morty insisted.
“Yes,” Ferdie appended. “We figured if we came here often enough, we were bound to meet the famous member of the family.”
“Another side benefit of Morty’s Travel!” the large red dragon stressed. “Although a very minor one.”
“Of course, when we were waiting around for you to show, we had to do some business with Morty,” Dewey elucidated. “I tell you, being a fan can be so expensive!”
“So what business do you want to do now?” Morty emphasized. “We have deals you wouldn’t believe!”
“I’m sure you do,” Ferdie replied. “But for the moment, we would like to talk to your brother.”
“Yes,” Dewey enthused. “You must tell us all about your experiences on the stage!”
“You really want to know about my experiences?” Hubert answered in disbelief.
“These deals won’t last forever!” Morty ventured. No one seemed to notice.
“Are you kidding?” Spike laughed. “Every dragon here wants to know about your experiences. Your success has had a profound effect upon the entirety of dragon culture!”
“So that’s what that was all about!” Hubert marveled.
“These offers are for a limited time only!” Morty remarked rather more loudly than was necessary. He was ignored by the others.
“The punch lines,” Hubert went on. “When I heard you exchange them, I was afraid you were mocking everything I stood for.”
“The punch lines?” Snarks asked.
“Quiet, appetizers,” Dewey admonished. “We’ll deal with you presently.”
Snarks quieted.
“On the contrary—“ Ferdie began. “You should consider the custom an honor—“
“Mockery was the furthest thing from our minds,” Dewey further assured. “When we heard of your success telling jokes, it opened up whole new vistas for dragonkind.”
“That’s right!” Uncle Spike agreed. “And soon we all began to tell jokes!”
“As a way of greeting—“ Ferdie added.
“It became the ‘in’ thing to do—“ Dewey expounded.
“This could be,” Morty cried hoarsely, “a once-in-a- lifetime opportunity!” The others continued talking as if he wasn’t even there.
“Of course, telling a complete joke every time you greet someone can be very time-consuming,” Spike maintained.
“So, over time, we shortened the form,” Ferdie clarified.
“I see,” the dragon upon which we sat interposed. “And now you simply say the best part, like—“ Hubert paused.
“Oh, oh,” Ferdie hollered. “Would you—could you—if it wouldn’t be asking too much—do a punch line?”
“Yes, yes,” Dewey huzzahed. “Do one for us, Huey. Please?”
“Oh, very well. If I must.” Hubert considered for a moment, before speaking again:
“Because his pink ones were in the wash.”
All the dragons save Morty guffawed heartily.
“He’s already a master!” Dewey marveled.
“Why hadn’t we seen his genius before?” Ferdie queried.
“You may never see bargains like this again!” Morty screamed. No one even bothered to glance at him.
“Well, we certainly see it now,” Uncle Spike asserted. “Huey, you will have to tell us all your secrets.”
“Secrets?” Hubert responded doubtfully.
“Yes,” Ferdie explicated, “you know, how you entice humans and others into seeing your act.”
“How?” Hubert ruminated. “Well, you know, publicity, word of mouth. ...”
“I’m sure we’ll learn about the preparation soon enough,” Dewey chirruped. “We want to hear how you put audiences under your reptile spell!”
“Really?” Hubert responded dubiously. “Well, I guess you could call it that. I do have a partner, you know. We start out with a little song, a little dance, then really hook them with some snappy patter.”
“And then you eat them!” Uncle Spike suggested.
“Pardon?” Hubert replied, somewhat aghast.
“I thought that would naturally be what happens next,” Spike expounded.
“Most certainly not!” Hubert contradicted. “Once you have the audience with you, you milk their emotions for all it’s worth. You know, a sensitive song of lost love, followed by a specialty dance number and a rousing, patriotic finale!”
“Oh, I see,” Spike answered with sudden comprehension. “And then you eat them!”
“Uh”—Hubert hesitated—“no. Then it’s time for the audience to applaud wildly, so that you can come back for your encore.”
“Obviously,” Ferdie interjected, “we don’t understand any of the finer points of your newly chosen profession.”
“Quite right,” Dewey assented. “But tell us, Huey old dragon. When exactly do you eat them?”
“Oh, my.” Hubert looked at the others. “I’m afraid I don’t.”
“You don’t eat them?” Spike erupted incredulously.
“You don’t eat anybody!” Ferdie echoed.
“It all seems rather pointless, doesn’t it?” Dewey agreed with the others. “How do you survive?”
“Well,” Hubert replied a bit defensively, “I do get paid a bit.”
“Paid?” Uncle Spike chuckled. “You sly reptile!”
“What a horde of gold you must have!” Ferdie marveled.
The other dragons—save Morty, who was sulking in a corner—all smoked heartily.
“Well, it’s been quite nice to visit with all of you again,” Hubert puffed. “But I must speak with my brother.”
The red dragon in the corner raised his head.
“Morty’s the one to go to for travel,” Dewey agreed.
“Of course,” Ferdie interjected, “we can travel anytime. But it’s not every day we get to talk to a star!”
“Thanks again,” Hubert replied modestly. “But if I might be able to talk to my brother alone?”
“Fair enough,” Spike piped up as he eyed Snarks and me speculatively. “Would you like me to watch your snacks?”
“Oh second thought,” Hubert amended hastily, “I believe it would be in everybody’s interest if my two companions also consulted with Morty.”
“Doesn’t sound very interesting to me,” Spike remarked.
He glanced at Dewey and Ferdie. “What do you fellows think?”
“We’ll do anything,” Ferdie enthused, “if you’ll put on a show!”
“Well, I don’t know—“ Hubert hesitated.
“No show, no go!” Ferdie insisted.
“And, you know,” Dewey added ominously as he breathed a thin line of smoke in our direction, “all this talking has made me hungry.”
“Oh, all right!” Hubert relented. “I’ll do a show. But just a little one!”
Dewey and Ferdie both applauded.
“We knew we could twist your tail!” Dewey exclaimed.
“We’ll have to go out and tell the others!” Ferdie added.
“Yep,” Uncle Spike agreed. “I’ll have to get out of here right now to tell your Aunt Louise.”
“Louise?” Snarks piped up before his demon hands covered his mouth.
“My, this one certainly is a talkative tidbit,” Spike remarked, moving his smoking snout rather closer to us than was comfortable.
“Now, uncle,” Hubert cautioned.
“Oh, we understand, Huey,” Spike assured him. “There’s no reason to be ashamed. I’m sure a traveler like you never knows where he might spend the night. It’s always wise to bring an extra food supply.”
“In fact,” Dewey added, “it’s a cornerstone of dragon digestion.”
“Life on the road must certainly be tough,” Ferdie continued. “Far be it from us to force you to share what might be your only sustenance.”
“But—“ Hubert responded.
“Say no more,” Spike interrupted. “We understand. But maybe, after the performance, we can trade you a real meal for those tidbits!”
“But—“ Hubert tried again.
“No need to thank us!” Ferdie assured him.
“But—“ Hubert insisted.
“We have to go tell the others about the show!” Dewey called as he left with Ferdie and Spike.
“But—“ Hubert began again. But the three dragons were gone.
“Oh, dear,” Snarks whispered.
“Indeed,” I agreed. “We will have to be careful in our dealings with dragons. Otherwise, we will end our days as somebody’s lunch.”
Hubert sighed. “ ‘Tis the nature of dragons. They always look at the world through their stomachs.”
“ Tis rather the nature of an adventurous life,” I assured the dragon. “I have been threatened with digestion by many other species in the course of my travels. It’s the sort of thing you come to count on in the apprenticeship business.”
“I suppose you’re going to say it’s my fault that the dragons noticed us so much,” Snarks said defensively. “And I suppose it is.”
The demon groaned. “There’s something about dragon names,” Snarks despaired. “I can’t help myself.”
“Oh, well,” Hubert allowed. “I can understand that with Spike.”
“You can?” Snarks replied uncomprehendingly.
“Certainly,” the dragon explained. “ ‘Spike’ is only my uncle’s nickname. His real name is Bruce.”
“Bruce?” Snarks repeated, unable to do otherwise.
“I agree entirely,” Hubert consented. “What kind of name is that for a dragon?”
He looked over at his brother, who still moped in the comer. “But I must speak with Morty if we are to complete our mission.”
Morty straightened as we approached. “And what do you want?”
“I need your help,” Hubert explained. “That’s why I’m here.”
“You need my help?” Morty ventured incredulously. “Hubert, the star, condescends to ask something from his humble travel-agent brother, so lowly a dragon that others only use his services because of his famous relations?”
“He’s taking this a little hard, isn’t he?” Snarks commented.
“Drama runs in the family,” Hubert explained.
It seemed to me that this drama had run far enough. Now that we were not in immediate danger of being eaten for a chance remark, perhaps there was something I could do to remedy this situation.
“Indeed,” I interjected. “And I am sure he would be very good at it, had he chosen drama as his profession. In fact, he might have been even better than you, Hubert.”
The other dragon’s ears perked up. “I might?”
“Certainly,” I hurriedly added. “But he chose an even more noble dragon profession, that of guiding his fellows through the skies!”
“I did?” Morty replied. He took a moment to dust off his wings. “I did!”
“I see what you’re saying,” Hubert continued, picking up on my cue. “Look, Morty, what does it matter what others think? We know who’s the older brother around here, don’t we?”
“Yes,” Morty said uncertainly, “I guess that hasn’t changed.” He absently flexed his wing muscles. “Want to try a little flying contest?”
“Why bother?” Hubert conceded. “We both know you’d win. Plus, we don’t have much time. We need your help now.”
Morty snorted a tentative bit of smoke. “Oh, well, if you put it that way, I suppose we could work out something, if only because you’re my brother.”
“Morty, I knew I could count on you!” Hubert enthused. “Now, can you tell me the way to heaven?”
“Heaven?” Morty frowned. “I always thought it was—you know—up.” He looked distractedly about the room. “But maybe I can find better directions.”
He strolled over to the Western Kingdoms tapestry. “I keep all my odd maps and information back here. So few dragons want to go to the Western Kingdoms—such a dreary place!--that I have plenty of room.” He sat back on his haunches and pushed the tapestry aside with his snout.
“Let’s see,” he ruminated. “Ah. The very file.” He ruffled through a pile of parchment. “This could be a bit of a problem. Heaven appears to be awfully large.”
“Indeed!” I called helpfully. “We seek the whereabouts of a minor deity, a Plaugg?”
“The inconsequentially majestic!” Snarks added.
“Ah.” Morty nodded, brightening considerably. “The lowest level possible, huh? Well, that should make things a little easier.” He pulled a piece of parchment from the bottom of the pile. “Here we go.” He handed the document to Hubert. “You have to travel up, and a little to the left.”
Hubert glanced over the directions. “Seems simple enough.”
“Of course it is!” the other dragon insisted. “Morty’s Travel has the best directions available!”
“This should do nicely,” Hubert agreed. “What do we owe you?”
Morty considered. “Well, you do have those two succulent—but no, you want to hold on to them for some reason. Let us just say that I should be happiest when you’re gone. I ask, therefore, for your speediest exit possible.”
“Then, brother, I am gone,” Hubert assured him, backing out of the cave with his two passengers still intact.
“Oh, no, you’re not!” Dewey and Ferdie echoed from the cave mouth. “It’s showtime!”
“There is no business like show business”. There is also no business like certified public accounting, but that doesn’t rhyme as well.”
From Wake Up and Conjure: A Wizard’s Guide to Everyday Life, fourth edition, by Ebenezum, greatest wizard in the Western Kingdoms
“But—“ Hubert began.
“The beer that made Mel Famey walk us!” Ferdie declared.
“I’ve come for the man who shot my paw!” Dewey added.
“No one’s going to make a gosh darn canoe out of me!” Hubert replied after a moment’s consideration.
The dragons laughed at some length.
“That’s the spirit!” Ferdie said encouragingly.
“Nothing special,” Hubert stated. “Just show biz in the blood.”
“That’s exactly what we’re looking for!” Dewey trumpeted. “And we’re all ready for you. Everybody’s gathered back at the landing plateau!”
“That’s awfully nice, fellows,” Hubert began, “but—“
“And they’re calling for you!” Ferdie cried.
“They are?” Hubert smiled. “Well, let’s not keep them waiting!”
“But Hubert!” I whispered in the dragon’s ear. Hadn’t he promised his brother to leave quickly? And hadn’t we wasted enough time here in our search for my master?
Hubert made a shushing sound as he walked to meet the other dragons.
“Oho,” Ferdie pointed out. “So now the other tidbit is bothering you?”
“Yes, they do seem like such an annoyance,” Dewey agreed. “I’m sure you’ll feel much better once you’re rid of them.”
“But—“ Hubert began.
“You’ve held out on us for long enough!” Dewey insisted. “It’s time for a snack.”
“It’s time for escape,” Snarks whispered in my ear.
But Hubert shook his head vehemently.
“No, it is not,” our dragon allowed. “Not with these fellows.”
I silently repressed a cheer. Hubert would not let us down!
“Why not?” Ferdie demanded.
“Give us one good reason!” Dewey chorused.
“Urn. A good reason?” Hubert replied uncertainly.
“Dragon’s dinner, here we come,” Snarks whispered.
But Hubert brightened, shouting: “Because they’re part of the show!”
“Part of the show?” the two reptiles said in unison, the disappointment plain upon their dragon faces.
“I guess we’ll have to wait, then,” Dewey spoke reluctantly.
“At least until after the performance,” Ferdie agreed.
“Very good,” Hubert remarked with the proper note of imperiousness. “Now stand aside, so that my assistants and I might prepare for the show.”
The other dragons deferentially made way for Hubert and his retinue.
“In show business,” Hubert explained when we had reached a sufficient distance from the others, “it sometimes pays to be difficult.”
“If that’s the case,” Snarks rejoined, “you should be incredibly wealthy.”
I ignored the demon’s remark, for I had other things on my mind.
“Indeed,” I asked Hubert, “we’re now part of the performance?”
“Don’t worry,” the dragon assured me. “We’ll fake it.”
“Fake it?” Snarks replied miserably. “Maybe I should have been a dragon’s dinner, after all.”
“You may still have a chance,” Hubert remarked, “if the performance doesn’t go well.”
“Indeed?”’ I asked somewhat reluctantly.
Hubert nodded. “Dragons, as a rule, do not constitute a forgiving audience.” He reached up and took off his top hat. “But here. You need to learn your lines.” He pulled two sheaves of parchment from inside the hat brim, and handed them to me. I passed one of the two on to Snarks.
“You actually keep your music in your hat?” the demon asked incredulously.
“What—“ The dragon chuckled, twirling the hat back atop his head. “Do you think I wear this thing just for show?”
I looked down at the piece of parchment in my hands. It was a song about dragons, with stanzas clearly marked with a number 1, 2 or 3.
“I thought this was a particularly appropriate little ditty, with three parts, of course. I shall be number one—that part carries much of the weight of the song. Wuntvor shall be number two, and Snarks number three. Simply follow my lead, and everything shall be fine. Any questions?”
“Yeah,” Snarks piped up. “Do we have to do this?”
“I am afraid so,’ Hubert responded. “I am not a solo act. My numbers require a partner. In addition, we need an excuse to keep the two of you off my fellow dragons’ dinner tables.”
Snarks swallowed hard.
“So it’s sing ... or be eaten?”
“That’s about it,” the dragon replied. “What shall it be?”
“I’m thinking!” the demon answered. “I’m thinking!”
Then Hubert rounded a bend and there were dragons everywhere.
“People who live in grass houses shouldn’t stow thrones!” a delicate pink reptile called.
“I wouldn’t send a knight out on a dog like this!” a large blue-green lizard added.
“Well, you wouldn’t eat a fine pig like that all at once!” a bright yellow dragon chimed in.
“So I bit him!” a very large bluish-purple dragon rumbled.
And so it went, a hundred dragons shouting a hundred punch lines all at once, so that all you could hear were occasional references to dogs, chickens and salesmen, followed quickly by an overwhelming wave of laughter, then silence.
All the dragons were waiting for Hubert’s response.
The showdragon cleared his throat.
“How he got into my pajamas, I’ll never know.”
Well, if there had been a house there, he would have brought it down. As it was. the audience’s laughter seemed to shake the whole plateau. But then the laughter died down as well, and more than a hundred dragons looked at us expectantly.
“Is it my imagination,” Snarks whispered, “or do these guys look like they haven’t eaten in a week?”
“Quick!” Hubert instructed us. “Get down on either side of me. It’s showtime!”
“But—“ Snarks began.
But it was already too late. Hubert was singing:
“Dragons are different, dragons are swell, Dragons can burn you with their sense of smell!”
He glanced over at me. That meant it was my turn! I quickly sang the words of my stanza, trying to repeat the tune Hubert had begun:
“Dragons are different, it’s useful to know, ‘Cause one can crush you with his little toe.”
“Isn’t this song going to give these guys ideas?” Snarks whispered.
“Your turn!” I whispered back.
Snarks looked out at the assembled dragons and froze.
“Dinnertime!” I added.
Snarks cleared his throat and sang:
“Dragons are different, it can’t be revoked; They prefer their dinners thoroughly smoked.”
“All together now!” Hubert declared. Snarks and I did our best to join the dragon in the chorus:
“They’re kings of all reptiles; Their manners divine, ‘Cause all these dragons—Why, they’re friends of mine!”
Snarks glanced at me, the edge of hysteria in his whispered plea:
“Why do I get the eating lines?”
It was then I noticed that Ferdie and Dewey had positioned themselves on Snarks’s side of the performance, and were in addition watching the demon with more than routine interest.
“Here we go again!” Hubert prompted the two of us. He sang:
“Dragons are different, they like to fly And pillage and bum—they’re not at all shy!”
The audience had begun to clap along. Hubert had picked a real crowd pleaser. But it was my turn:
“Dragons are different, both young and old; They take what they want, as long as it’s gold!”
The crowd kept the rhythm up, even though Snarks was late coming in again. I glanced at the demon. “I can’t say this!” he whispered back.
“Dinner—“ Hubert whispered from overhead. Snarks sang:
“Dragons are different, you can be sure, When it comes to eating, they’re not demure!”
Dewey and Ferdie seemed to like those lines. They had started to drool.
“AH together once again!” Hubert called down to us. It was time for the chorus:
“They’re some lucky lizards With scales so sublime, And all these dragons—Why, they’re friends of mine!”
Then Hubert started to dance. Both Snarks and I scurried away to give him room. He stomped up and down while flapping his wings and shooting great gouts of flame into the air. The crowd couldn’t get enough of him.
It took him a full five minutes to slow down, winded at last. He looked down at the two of us.
“Take it—uh—partners!” he wheezed.
“Take it?” Snarks whispered hysterically. “Take it where?”
“I think Hubert wants us to dance,” I suggested.
“No self-respecting demon—“ Snarks noticed that Ferdie and Dewey were leaning closer still.
The demon danced. My way, as I was dancing his way. Our feet managed to land in the same place at the same time. We tripped and fell. I tried to roll over and rise, but had somehow gotten my arms and scabbard stuck amidst the demon’s robes. It took us a full minute to extricate ourselves from our predicament. We turned to face the crowd.
The audience loved it.
“What now?” Snarks whispered. “I don’t have another food verse, do I?”
“The final chorus!” Hubert called. He and I sang while Snarks backed away from certain overzealous members of the audience.
“So call up a dragon If you want to dine; And all these dragons—Why, they’re friends of mine!”
Hubert waved to the crowd as he spoke to the two of us in a stage whisper.
“Get on my back, quick!”
We did as the dragon asked. Once we were firmly in place, Hubert backed away from the throng. “Thank you! Thank you!” he called. “You’re a beautiful audience!”
Most of the crowd were calling for encores, save for Dewey and Ferdie, who seemed to be saying things like “That would hit the spot!” and “My compliments to the chef!” I noticed Uncle Spike again as well, leading a lavender dragon who I assumed was Aunt Louise. Both Spike and Louise were watching me all too intently.
“Bye!” Hubert called to the throng. “Until we see you again!” He turned to us. “Always leave them wanting more.”
The crowd called to us in a frenzy:
“Sure enough. The black horse was two inches taller than the white horse!”
“Yeah, but we need the eggs!”
“Oh, nothing. Worms can’t talk!”
“Wrapping paper!”
“Oh, sure. Just after I got it all tired out!”
“Oh, my God! I shot a nun!”
Hubert paused in his flight to survey the upturned faces of the crowd below him.
“Gee,” he called below, “do you think I should have said Joe DiMaggio?”
Then he turned again, and we rose, with a great flapping of wings.
We were on our way to heaven.
The concept of heaven is many different things to many different species. To a troll, it would be edible. To a giant, it might be a short distance overhead, right up that beanstalk over there. And to a unicorn, heaven consists of wherever that particular beast happens to be at that particular moment. And where is heaven for wizards? Well, that’s a concept many of my fellows are still working on, but I assure you that that little tax-exempt retirement home overlooking the pleasure district of Vushta is at least on the proper road.
From The Teachings of Ebenezum, Special Weekly Update, Number 306
“Now, let’s see,” Hubert mused. “It’s got to be around here someplace.” The reptile exhaled. “At least it better be. There’s not much strength left in these old wings.”
We had flown up, and a little to the left, for quite some time. The home of the dragons had receded into the distance, now no more than a spec on the great curve of the globe beneath us. For the world below now looked like nothing so much as a giant sphere, and all the rivers and oceans and mountains therein looked like no more than insignificant lines and blotches and tiny spots scratched upon that great surface.
We must be nearing the home of the gods.
The air around us had changed of late, as Hubert flew even higher. When we had left the mountaintop of the dragon’s home behind, we had left the clouds as well, and had flown through a vast expanse of open air. Now, however, we approached another cloudy region, although this vaporous shroud seemed far different from the fog and storm clouds below. Indeed, this new vista before us was incredibly white and fluffy, although very dense as well, as if something might be hidden on the other side.
“Look!” Hubert called excitedly. He pointed to a dark speck among the clouds overhead.
“Indeed,” I replied. “What are we looking at?”
“Directions!” Hubert shouted.
And I saw, as we flew closer, that the speck was a sign, somehow attached to the bottom of a cloud. I squinted in an attempt to read the words.
“ALL DELIVERIES TO REAR DOOR.”
Beneath those words was an arrow, pointing left. The dragon changed his course slightly to follow these new directions.
“Indeed!” I yelled forward toward Hubert’s ear. “Is this the way we should be going? We’re not exactly delivering anything!”
“But certainly we are!” Snarks objected. “We are delivering our fondest wishes to Plaugg, the slightly splendiferous!”
“Besides,” the dragon reminded me, “it’s not as if we were invited up here. Who knows how the keepers of the heavenly gates are going to react to our arrival? If we have any hopes of getting in here at all, I think the service entrance is by far our best bet.”
“Indeed,” I said, impressed by the remarkably thoughtful consideration my companions were giving to our present situation. I supposed that approaching heaven might bring that out in one. “I don’t want to incur anybody’s wrath, either,” I added.
It seemed to me that was the sort of reaction you got from gods—wrath, floods, retribution, that sort of thing.
“I think we’re getting close,” Hubert called back again. “Thank goodness—these wings are weary!”
And, in fact, the nature of the clouds above us was changing, for while they were still as fleecy as before, they seemed to be graying as we passed beneath them, getting definitely dingy in spots, as though they had been smudged here and there. It was as if this area of cloud cover was used rather more than the rest, and not nearly as frequently washed.
“Another sign,” Hubert rumbled.
Sure enough, mere was a flat, brown area on the cloud immediately overhead, as if someone had set a door in the midst of the vapor. And on this door were large red letters: “R AR DOO”
“Rar doo?” Sparks inquired.
It puzzled me for a second as well.
“Indeed,” I said after a moment’s reflection. “If you added two letters, the sign would become ‘REAR DOOR.’ “
“You can tell why this fellow’s our leader!” Hubert enthused. “If this is the rear door, then this is where we must go. Shall I knock?”
I told him I didn’t see any reason why not. Hubert did as he was bade.
He waited a moment. There was no answer.
“There has to be somebody home!” Snarks insisted. “I mean, this is heaven, isn’t it?”
“Indeed,” I replied. “Hubert, why don’t you knock a little louder?”
“Anything you say,” Hubert agreed. “It’s time for a real dragon knock!” He clenched his forepaw into a fist and drew it back as far as it would go.
“Yoo-hoo!” he called as he sent his fist crashing forward.
The door burst open.
“Oh, dear,” Hubert remarked. “Do you think I broke it?”
“Should things even break in heaven?” Snarks asked. “Somehow, it would seem to be against the rules.”
“Broken or not,” I interjected, “I suggest we fly inside.”
“True enough,” Hubert answered as he fluttered his wings for one final effort. “We can worry about the niceties once we are on the other side.”
We flew through the open trapdoor, into a very bright light.
The first thing I noticed was the sound of a choir, a thousand soprano voices singing at the top of their range. The next thing I saw, and it was very well lit up here, was a road of golden brick that wound its way through the clouds.
“Oof!”
Hubert landed, rather less gracefully than usual, at the beginning of the road, which, upon closer inspection, seemed to be made of regular bricks painted gold. I could tell because the paint had flaked off here and there, especially on the end of the road nearest the door. And in that small space between the road and the door was another sign, hand-lettered and slightly faded: “Please close door when you are finished.”
“Hubert,” I said, pointing to the sign. “Do you think we should?”
The dragon nodded. “It’s only polite.” He reached over and swung the door shut.
“Congratulations!” a voice boomed over the constant singing. “You have passed the test!”
When the three of us were done jumping and cowering, I noticed a small fellow, dressed in a rather colorless tunic, standing on the far side of the now closed door.
“Pardon,” I asked, “but are you speaking to us?”
The small fellow smiled. “Don’t see anybody else around here, do you?”
“Meaning no disrespect,” I added hastily, “but no, we don’t.”
“Then I must be talking to you,” the fellow concluded.
“Indeed,” I replied. This fellow didn’t seem to be very direct. I wondered how far I could question him without incurring his wrath, if indeed he was a god.
“Pardon me,” I began again, “but would you mind telling us who you are?”
“Not at all!” the fellow answered. “As you see, this is the delivery entrance. And I am, of course, Devino, the god of delivery entrances. That’s the way things work up here.”
“And we have passed the test?” I ventured.
“I just said that, didn’t I?” the god of delivery entrances replied with a grin. “You can’t let just anybody into heaven. However, seeing you close the door behind you, I know you’re the right sort.”
“Seems like an awfully simple test,” Snarks muttered.
Devino sighed and nodded. “Actually, when you’re the god of delivery entrances, there aren’t too many tests you can perform. But you’re here now, and you may enter heaven.”
I thanked the deity, and asked him if he might be able to direct us to the home of Plaugg.
“The overwhelmingly adequate,” Snarks added reverentially.
“You’re in luck,” the delivery deity said. He pointed down the road. “Plaugg lives just past that cloud. First mansion on the right.”
We thanked the deity and began our walk down the heavenly road. Hubert remarked on how happy he was to be able to move his feet for a change.
The clouds bordered the bricks on either side, looking like nothing so much as snow-covered hills, as if this landscape was as substantial as the world we had come from down below. And who knew, perhaps it was, for we were in a special place with special rules. I had been across large parts of the earth below, and had even ventured beneath the ground to the fearsome realms of the Netherhells. But never had I found myself in a place so wondrously strange as this, the home of all the gods.
Still, I could do no less than venture here, for the sake of Ebenezum. It was all so different, and so unreal. But we were mere steps from our goal! And with Plaugg’s assistance, perhaps I would be able to save my master at last!
“Watch where you’re walking!” a voice bellowed.
Hubert, Snarks and I stopped abruptly. Sound certainly had a way of carrying up here.
Ahead of us stood another fellow, a little larger than the god of delivery entrances, and a little pudgier. He also wore a tunic, although his garment seemed to have gold threads worked into the colorless fabric, which made the cloth somehow simultaneously drab and glistening. This new deity pointed to a sign by his side.
Caution!
DEITIES AT WORK Road legally closed.
“And we mean it!” the fellow added. “Oh, sorry. I didn’t intend to bellow in your ears. It’s simply all this stress I’ve been under lately.”
“Indeed?” I asked, seeking to learn the nature of this god.
“I should say so,” the deity replied. “They don’t realize what a full-time job this is, especially with people wanting to use these roads all the time!”
“Then you work on the roads?”
“What else have I got time to do?” the deity laughed bitterly. “Oh, sorry. I should probably introduce myself. I am Devano, the god of brick roads painted with gold flake. With a job like that, I’m obviously stuck in the lower reaches of heaven!”
“Indeed,” I commented, “and you’re working on this particular road?”
“You read the sign?” Devano replied moodily. “This gold flake takes constant upkeep! It’s not like those real gold roads uptown.”
“Uptown?” Snarks asked.
“Yeah, you know, the posh neighborhoods—Pantheon Heights, Olympus Manor, places like that. But do you think they could be bothered to put in those gold roads down here?”
“I’m sure it is quite a problem,” I agreed. “However, we must travel farther up this road for a very important meeting with a deity. Is there any possibility we might be able to get through?”
Devano frowned. “The paint job’s pretty new. You two small fellows could probably get through without causing too much damage, but if I’m not mistaken, one of you is a dragon.”
“That’s quite correct,” Hubert rumbled.
“Of course I’m correct,” Devano said brusquely. “I’m a deity.”
“Indeed,” I interjected again. “We intend no disrespect—“
“I should hope not!” Devano insisted. “We don’t want any wraths incurred around here, do we?”
“What kind of wrath could a gold-flake painter have?” Snarks asked before I could stop him.
“Would you like to be bronzed?” Devano muttered darkly. “Or perhaps gilding would suit you better? It can be arranged.”
“I fear we do not desire either bronzing or gilding,” I replied. “What we need is to travel up this road until we find Plaugg.”
“The tolerably resplendent,” Snarks added.
“Sorry,” Devano asserted. “The reptile makes one step on that road, and it’s wrathtime!”
“Maybe I could walk around,” Hubert suggested, nodding toward the surrounding cloud hills.
The deity shook his head. “They’d never take his weight. It’s a problem living someplace as insubstantial as this. And it’s a long way down.”
“And my wings are in no shape for that kind of exercise,” Hubert moaned.
“Unfortunately, we must go on ahead,” I stated. “We must see Plaugg—“
“The reasonably radiant,” Snarks interjected.
“—for the sake of my master!” I concluded.
“Well, what will become of me?” Hubert asked, a hint of trepidation in his voice.
“You’ll have to stay behind,” Snarks said bluntly, “with the gold-flake god here.”
“It won’t be so bad,” Devano assured him. “I haven’t had anyone to discuss brick painting technique with in ever so long.”
“Brick painting technique?” Hubert asked. “I’m sure it would be fascinating, but on second thought, my wings have gotten all sorts of rest in the last few minutes. Up, up, and—uh—away!”
And with that, Hubert raised himself a half dozen paces above the road.
“Don’t land before the intersection up ahead!” Devano called. “Or it’s wrath city!”
“Yes, sir, Your Deityship, sir,” Hubert groaned. He flew on ahead, his face wrinkled in a very unpleasant expression.
“May we go as well?” I asked the god.
“Certainly,” Devano answered. “As long as you keep over to the left. That’s the side I painted first.”
I thanked the god of painting gold flake on brick roads, and we resumed our journey in silence, the only sounds those distant, ethereal, never-ending voices. We caught up with Hubert a few moments later. The dragon was breathing heavily, collapsed on the spot where the golden road branched in three directions.
“I don’t use—those wing muscles—enough anymore!” Hubert gasped. “As of now—for the foreseeable future—flying is right out!”
“Indeed,” I reassured the reptile, even though I wondered: Without Hubert’s flying help, how would we get out of here once we were done with Plaugg?
I asked the other question that was on my mind instead.
“Which way is it to Plaugg’s?”
“The spectacularly so-so,” Snarks added.
“Pardon?” another voice boomed all around.
After the three of us had managed to quiet our jumping hearts, we looked for the owner of the overwhelming voice. No matter how many times it happened, this call-out-of-nowhere business had never ceased to be disconcerting. A tunicked figure waved from the middle road.
“Heard you had a little trouble!” the newcomer called. This time, we only cowered for a moment. “Oh, sorry. Booming voices come with the territory. It’s the only way we can hear each other over the stupid music you always hear playing.” The high, soprano voices hummed happily in the background. “And if you think it’s bad around here, you should go over to the shopping mall.”
“Pardon?” I asked. I had heard of these “shopping malls.” Wasn’t that something they had in the Netherhells?
“But that’s beside the point,” die newcomer continued. “I have come here to help you find your way.”
“Indeed?” I inquired.
“Exactly. I am Devoono, god of showing wanderers the way through the byways of the lower reaches of heaven.”
“That’s all?” Snarks asked.
Devoono nodded. “It is a rather specialized calling, I grant you, but it has its rewards.”
“Like what?” Snarks demanded.
“Well, for one thing, I don’t have to paint bricks,” Devoono answered. “But I heard that you travelers have lost your way?”
“Indeed,” I replied, glad that this fellow was in a much better mood than the last deity we had come across. “We need to locate Plaugg.”
“The incredibly inconsequential,” Snarks chimed in.
“Easy enough.” Devoono pointed down the far right road. “Walk down there. It’s the first mansion, well, the first dwelling, you’ll come to.”
“That close?” I mused. “How can we possibly thank you?”
But the deity just nodded pleasantly. “Think nothing of it. It’s better than sitting around a delivery entrance all day!”
Then he disappeared without a sound.
“It’s a little disconcerting around here,” Hubert remarked.
“Are you kidding?” Snarks sneered. “It’s a lot disconcerting around here. Give me the molten slime pits of the Netherhells any day. At least there you know when something’s going to come out and grab you!”
“Indeed,” I interjected. “I believe it is time we went and grabbed Plaugg.”
“The incredibly indifferent,” Snarks added.
“If you will follow me?” I suggested, turning down the right-hand golden road.
The dwelling came in sight almost immediately, and I could see why the deity we had spoken with most recently had hesitated calling it a mansion. For, while it was reasonably large, it was not without its problems. To put it charitably, it needed a little work. The massive pillars to either side of the door were slightly askew, there were cracks here and there in the numerous statues, and there seemed to be piles of orange, spongy stuff littering the front walk.
It was a wondrous place, gone ever so slightly to seed. I had never seen a building at once so ordinary and so magnificent. Even if Devoono hadn’t shown us the way, there would have been no mistaking it.
It had to be the mansion of Plaugg.
Etiquette is as important to wizards as it is to anyone else. Say, for example, that one of your numerous visiting in-laws criticizes the upkeep of the home. You, of course, should smile graciously at this remark, and pleasantly reply that you will be more than glad to turn them into a broom.
From Ask Ebenezum: A Handy Compendium of Wizards’ Do’s and Don’ts, fourth edition, by Ebenezum, greatest wizard in the Western Kingdoms
We walked up to the front door, which appeared to be a bit loose on its hinges.
“Shall I?” Hubert asked, his massive forepaw ready to knock.
“Actually,” I remarked, “I believe the honor of announcing our presence should go to Snarks. After all, he’s the member of our company who worships Plaugg.”
“The ineptly unequaled,” Snarks whispered, awed by his surroundings. “Who thought I would ever be here, at the tumbledown mansion of Him!”
“So are you going to knock?” Hubert prompted.
The demon blinked and stared at the large reptile. “That’s the problem with dragons. No sense of the true proprieties. I shall knock when I am spiritually prepared.”
Snarks took a deep breath and knocked.
A woman’s voice answered.
“We don’t want any!”
Snarks took a step away. “Are you sure this is the right place?”
“Indeed,” I replied. “At least that last deity said so.”
“That must mean that Plaugg does not live in solitude!” Snarks shivered with the thought. “The theological implications alone are staggering.”
“We’re still not inside,” Hubert reminded the demon. “We still have to see this guy.”
“This guy?” Snarks exploded. “You refer to Him as ‘this guy’? I’ll have you know that Plaugg, bless His magnificently mediocre name, is the Ultimate Guy!”
“Indeed,” I said soothingly. “Perhaps you should knock again.”
Snarks smoothed his robes, calming himself with an effort.
“You are right, of course,” the demon said at last. “I am ever so slightly overwrought, being so close—“
He stopped talking and knocked.
“We gave at the office!” the voice shouted.
“No, madam!” I called back. “You misunderstand. We are here seeking the wisdom of Plaugg!”
“Seeking his whatT’ the woman yelled. “Now I know you’re at the wrong house.” I heard the sound of feet scuffling across flagstone. “Oh, very well. I suppose I have to humor the old deity. Wait a moment and I’ll lift the latch.”
The door made a creaking sound and swung wide. There was no one on the other side.
“Come on in if you’re coming!” the woman’s voice called. “You can’t keep deities waiting all day!”
Snarks and I stepped gingerly inside, crossing a cracked marble foyer into a very large room in severe need of cleaning.
“Plaugg!” the voice shouted. “Believe it or not, there’s somebody here to see you.”
“What?” a somewhat confused-sounding male voice called back. “Oh, very well. I’ll be there in a minute.”
Snarks looked wonderingly about the rather dingy but immense room we found ourselves in. “You know who that was,” he whispered. “Plaugg!”
“The miraculously tardy,” the disembodied woman’s voice added. “He’s bad enough as it is. You should be careful not to encourage him.”
“Here I come! Here I come!” A fellow who was even shorter and more nondescript than the last couple deities we had met brushed aside a large cobweb and stepped into the room from one of the many surrounding alcoves. “Give me a minute now to adjust my robes.” He fumbled with his tunic, which seemed rather grayer than those of others we had seen. He tugged his clothes three inches along one shoulder, frowned, then tugged them back the other way.
“There,” he said at last, although I could see no difference. “That will have to do. Now, what seems to be the problem?”
Snarks fell to his knees. Even I remembered this remarkably nondescript deity from that day, so long ago, when he saved us from the Netherhells. It was Plaugg.
“Oh, Your Nondescriptness,” Snarks groveled. “This is such an honor, Your Unremarkableness. How do I begin—“
“Pardon me,” Plaugg interrupted, “but aren’t you a demon?”
“Why, yes, Your Insipidness,” Snarks stammered, “here to—urn—“
“I thought as much, Plaugg replied proudly. “I’m a deity, you know. Things like this rarely escape my notice.”
“Really?” the woman’s voice remarked. “Then why don’t you notice things around the house?”
“Now, dearest,” Plaugg said with a frown. “I’m sure these nice pilgrims don’t want to hear about—“
“Well, I don’t want to hear about it, either!” the other voice exclaimed. “But how else am I going to get you to listen—“
“Dearest,” Plaugg replied firmly. “Now is not the time or place. And why don’t you manifest yourself for these nice people? It’s not very polite, hanging around the room like that and making declarations from the ether.”
“Oh, I suppose you’re right,” the woman agreed. “For once.”
A light gray cloud coalesced at the center of the room. Plaugg turned back to Snarks.
“We don’t get many demons up here.”
“We don’t get much of anybody up here!” declared the woman’s voice, now attached to a form which, besides being female, was of much the same stature and shape as Plaugg. “I mean, who would want to come to a place like this?”
“Now, Devuna,” Plaugg cautioned.
But, once started, the goddess was not so easily stopped. “Why don’t you look at this dump? Everything in this place needs to be cleaned up and repaired. And the outside? Hah! You can barely call our home a mansion anymore, it needs so much work.”
“You’re becoming overwrought, dear—“ Plaugg began.
“Overwrought?” Devuna laughed caustically. “Tell me this! When’s the last time you swept the manna off the sidewalk?”
“Oh, my, is it piling up again?” Plaugg said distractedly. “That’s one of the problems with living in a place where foodstuffs fall from the void.” The god glanced at Snarks and myself. “You folks wouldn’t want any, would you? It’s quite tasty. Nutritious, too.”
“Indeed,” I replied, for it seemed time for someone to take action so that this conversation did not wander aimlessly forever. “Perhaps we will try a bit later, but now we must ask for your assistance.”
“Yes, Your Prosaicness,” Snarks piped up. “ Tis the very thing that I, as Your worshipper, have been trying to put into words, if only I could find ...” The demon’s voice trailed off.
“See?” Plaugg pointed out to his spouse. “They need my assistance!”
The goddess snorted. “Good luck with them getting it!”
Plaugg turned apologetically back to Snarks and myself. “You’ll have to excuse my wife, Devuna. I’m afraid, when a couple lives together throughout eternity, these little problems can creep up.”
“Little?” Devuna exploded. “You call that constant drip, drip, drip in the sink a little problem?”
“Well, perhaps not, but you know the trouble I have there,” Plaugg defended himself. “I have to find the time to study the problem, so that I might discover exactly the right motion for deific repair of that sort. After all, if I make the gesture in the proper direction, the leak is gone. However, should I inadvertently reverse the move, the waters of the heavens descend upon us.” He spread his hands in a gesture of helplessness. “You can see my problem, can’t you?”
Devuna grunted in dismissal. I, however, could certainly sympathize with the deity, having been in many similar situations myself.
Plaugg sighed, nodding sadly. “Sometimes, being a deity is more of a problem than it’s worth.”
“We appreciate Your concerns, Your So-soness,” Snarks spoke up, “but, if we might, we could use a moment of Your reasonably valuable time.”
Plaugg smiled at the demon. “Anything for my worshippers. By the way, that’s a dragon looking through the doorway, isn’t it?”
“Pleased to meet you!” Hubert called.
“We don’t get many dragons up here,” Plaugg admitted.
“We’re never going to have anybody up here ever again,” his wife insisted, “if you don’t do some work around the place.” She glared at her god-husband. “And that anybody includes good-for-nothing deities!”
“Indeed,” I spoke to the goddess, seeking to distract her so that Snarks might properly petition Plaugg. “You are Devuna?”
“And proud of it!” Devuna sniffed. “I am the goddess of put-upon wives whose names begin with P, Q and /?.”
“Indeed?” I replied.
“Exactly,” she answered. “The job had so many worshippers, we had to divide up the duties.”
“I had no idea,” I continued, “that the deity business was so specialized.”
“It’s the modem way.” She shot another incriminating look at her husband. “Everyone’s got a specialty, except Plaugg!”
“Someone’s got to be a general practitioner!” Plaugg shot back. “It’s a tradition up here in the Elysian fields.”
“Tradition—smadition!” His wife carped. She glanced back at me. “The simple truth is that Plaugg is incapable of making decisions.”
“I can too make decisions!” Plaugg exclaimed. “At least, I think I can.”
“Oh, Your Nothing-Specialness!” Snarks interjected. “Please hear us out, for, with every passing moment, our situation is getting worse!”
“Quite right,” Plaugg agreed. “Devuna and I have all eternity to argue, a fact I sometimes attempt to forget. Tell me now, petitioners: What is your problem?”
Together, Snarks and I briefly outlined what had happened so far: how Death had decided that I was the Eternal Apprentice; how Death coveted my soul which—because I was the Eternal Apprentice—until now had been unobtainable; how I had thus far managed to avoid the fiend in that selfsame quest for my soul; how my master had been spirited to the land of Death by that treacherous specter, so that I would be expected to exchange my own life for that of the wizard; and how I had to find a way to rescue Ebenezum without sacrificing myself.
“Oh, of course!” Plaugg stated. “I knew that. Being a deity, I am somewhat omnipotent, you know.”
“Then, might You help us, Your Adequateness?” Snarks implored.
Plaugg considered for a second. “Anything for a worshipper—“
He paused again as Snarks and I exchanged grins.
“—within limits,” he concluded.
“What did I tell you?” Devuna interposed. “Nothing but talk, talk, talk.”
“Now, now, dearest,” Plaugg chided. “There’s actually quite a lot I can do. It will simply take me a little time to do it.” He glanced distractedly at Snarks and me. “Somehow, we need to get you into the Kingdom of Death. I am, unfortunately, not properly informed on methods to transport worshippers into totally different spheres of existence.” He smiled apologetically. “I’m afraid I have enough trouble getting around myself.”
“He never leaves the house,” Devuna agreed. “Can’t even get him to run a simple errand.”
“Now, now,” Plaugg contradicted. “That’s not precisely true. It’s simply that I have to watch my movements. Should I walk one way, I can go down to the corner and pick up some groceries. However, should my movements inadvertently change mid-errand, I could alter the very fabric of the cosmos.” He shrugged exhaustedly. “No one truly appreciates the problems of a deity.”
“Excuses, always excuses,” Devuna muttered.
“Least of all my wife,” Plaugg concluded. “Now, how soon must you rescue this wizard?” He stared into space for an instant, his lips moving silently, then returned his gaze to Snarks and myself. “Would two weeks from Wednesday be sufficient?”
“B-but, Your Unexceptionalness!” Snarks stammered. “That cannot—“ His voice died, the demon unable to contradict his deity.
“Indeed,” I added helpfully. “It may already be too late—“
Plaugg’s laughter held a touch of embarrassment. “Oh, that’s right, you did say it was urgent. It’s just that, when you’re a deity, why, you tend to have simply everything on your mind! An immediate solution, hmm?”
“Unfortunately true, Your Passableness!” Snarks replied. “We must reach the Kingdom of Death with all speed.”
Plaugg sighed. “Speed, huh? I don’t know if I can help you there.”
“You can say that again!” Devuna interjected.
“Of course,” Plaugg added uncertainly, “you could take a tour bus—“
“Indeed,” I said. “A tour bus?” I was unfamiliar with the heavenly term.
“What an idea!” Devuna exclaimed, new admiration in her voice. “A tour bus would get them down there in no time at all. Every once in a while, you remind me why I married you.”
“Think nothing of it,” Plaugg remarked self-deprecat-ingly.
“I usually don’t,” Devuna answered with a smile.
“Dearest,” Plaugg prompted, “you wouldn’t happen to have a schedule?”
The goddess frowned. “You’re right. I do have one around here someplace.” She furrowed her brow, and a piece of parchment materialized in her hand. She studied the newfound paper for an instant. “We’re in luck. The Kingdom of Death Express leaves in seventeen minutes!”
“Indeed,” I said again, totally confused. “A tour bus?”
“Don’t worry,” Plaugg assured me. “I’ll take care of everything. Which gate does it leave from, dearest?”
“Oh, that’s right,” Devuna nodded in sudden understanding. “Pearly is closed down for construction.” She looked down to the bottom of her parchment. “AH tours are temporarily leaving from Celestial.”
“Celestial it is.” Plaugg smiled. “I’ll have you there in a jiffy.” He paused to wave at the dragon in the doorway. “All three of you. And if you need anything else, all you have to do is ask. That’s what I’m here for. I can hear most anything, which can be a bit of a problem sometimes, let me tell you. However, since I know you’ll be calling, I’ll be listening. Now, let’s see—“ He bit his lower lip in concentration.
“Does this mean you’re going to be making house calls again?” his wife demanded.
“In a minute, dearest.” Plaugg frowned.
“He can make house calls,” Devuna muttered distractedly, “but can he sweep the steps? Sometimes—“
“I’ve got it!” Plaugg cried triumphantly. “Have a nice tour! Don’t forget to write!”
The deity’s voice faded as Snarks and I were surrounded by smoke. My companions and I were to be sent to the “tour bus,” whatever that was.
But one thing was certain. We were going at last to rescue my master! My joy would have been complete, save for one thought:
Once we got to the Kingdom of Death, what would we do next?
I am reminded of an amusing incident that occurred early in my career. A certain spell had been intended to increase a king’s knowledge, but through a small error on my part, had instead doubled the size of everyone’s nose within the kingdom. I attempted to apologize to the angry throng when the king, whose nose had been none too small to begin with, rushed upon the scene with the royal executioner in tow, and demanded a satisfactory conclusion of our business, or else.
The angry mob, however, who couldn’t have cared less about royalty getting their money’s worth, revolted, storming the castle and grabbing me away from the executioner’s blade. After a couple more minor errors, I managed to set things right with the majority of the population, especially with regards to nose size, although I did neglect to extend the antidote spell to the monarch.
And so I left that particular land, but—and I think this proves I am a fair wizard—not before I had written an anonymous note, advising the king that, if he were to properly weight his crown in the back, it would aid in balancing his head so that his chin was not constantly resting on his chest.
Now, what is the point of this little tale? Consider this: How else might I get rescued by an angry mob an instant before being murdered by a vengeful king? I think the moral is obvious. It always pays to advertise.
Prom Wake Up and Conjure!: The Collected Speeches of Ebenezum, Greatest Wizard in the Western Kingdoms, Volume CCCXII, The Year of the Demon, the first three weeks of summer
“Watch your step!”
The smoke had cleared abruptly. I was standing at the foot of a subtly vibrating stairway.
“Hurry it up, would you, please?” said a fellow standing by my side. He wore a gray robe and matching cap. “I’ve got a schedule to keep. And I need that ticket.”
Ticket? Oh, I realized, the fellow must be referring to the square of parchment I held in my hand. I passed it to him.
“Good enough,” the gray fellow said as he pointed up the stairs. “Sit wherever you like on the bus.”
I carefully ascended the barely jiggling stairway as the fellow spoke to Snarks.
“Ticket? Say, you’re a demon, aren’t you?”
Snarks complimented the fellow’s perceptiveness.
“We don’t get many demons on this tour. Actually, we don’t get much of anybody on this tour. It’s a popular misconception that a tour of the Kingdom of the Dead might be downright depressing! Well, let me tell you right now, with me behind the wheel, it’s anything but! Hop on the bus, now!’
I heard S nark’s feet behind me as I reached the top of the stairs.
“Wait a second, mac,” declared the fellow who was apparently our guide. “This may be a heavenly bus, but there’s no way we can fit a dragon in here!”
I looked back down the stairs past Snarks. Hubert tipped his top hat and showed the fellow his ticket.
“Okay, okay,” the guide said with a frown. He pointed overhead. “I guess you can ride on top.”
“The proper place for a dragon,” Hubert rumbled as he clambered on top of whatever this thing was that I now stood inside.
“That’s it, then?” the guide called, looking hopefully about the cloud fields that surrounded this “bus.” “This is your last chance!” he added.
He was answered by silence.
“Everybody in their seats, then!” he called up to us. “It’s time for the tour!”
Snarks joined me at the top of the stairs. I turned to look down a long aisle, bordered on either side by padded benches. The rest of this “bus” was empty—we had been the first to climb within it. I sat on the second bench from the front, next to a large, covered window. Snarks sat on my other side.
“A tour bus?” the demon whispered in wonder. “Surely, this is one of the mystic engines of the gods.”
The guide jumped up the steps two at a time and sat at a small bench at the very front of the enclosed interior. He did something with his hands. We were surrounded by a rumbling, like distant thunder.
“Welcome!” the guide’s voice boomed even though he faced away from us. “On a heavenly tour you will never forget!”
There was a tapping at my window. I turned, and saw Hubert’s upside-down face grinning at me.
“I hope everyone is quite comfortable in their seats,” the guide continued, “because here we go!”
There was a whooshing sound, like we were surrounded by a great wind, and we were no longer in heaven. We were surrounded by blue sky, far above the world.
“I’m Devorno, your divine driver,” our guide continued. “And I’ll be showing you some of the sights on our trip beyond the realm of the living! That’s right! I guess you could say there’s any number of things I’ll be dying to tell you! Ha, ha, ha!”
Snarks blanched where he sat by my side. “Does this guy know Hubert?” he whispered.
I knew instantly what the demon meant. There was a certain awfulness about the driver’s humor that was immediately recognizable.
“But this bus does more than fly through the air,” Devomo continued. “Now, when I pull this cord here, this magic carriage will send us sailing through a dozen different realms of existence, straight to our goal, the Kingdom of Death. Look carefully, now. On a trip like this, you never know what you might see!”
The driver pulled the cord.
The light changed again, going from deep red to brilliant yellow to blinding white, as if we were flying into the heart of the sun. Then, as quickly as the light flared, it was gone, replaced by a soft golden glow. And in that glow stood at least a hundred women. What’s more, all of them were staring at me. Wasn’t that Alea in the corner? The women all opened their mouths to speak at the same time, and said a single word in unison. Could that be Norei that we just passed? I realized with a start what that single word had been. All the women had spoken my name.
“There they are,” the driver interjected, “all the women that you might ever love. A part of each of them waits for you in this realm of possibilities, as you wait for them elsewhere. Just think, your life could be spent with any one of these beauties. Now, that’s what I call living!”
So it was an image of Norei I saw! And Alea as well. But all those women? After I had already discovered my own true love? Surely it was some mistake. I turned to ask Snarks his opinion, but found him staring out the window, openmouthed.
“I’ve never seen so many female demons in one place!” he whispered.
“Female demons?” I replied. “Indeed.” Apparently, on this edge of heaven, each of us saw only that which pertained to him specifically. I wondered if the same held true for the dragon who rode on top. But then I heard Hubert’s tail thumping on the roof overhead.
“But we have to say goodbye to our lovely ladies,” the driver’s voice broke into my thoughts, “for we are passing into another place altogether.”
The lighting changed from golden to palest blue. But that was not all that differed, for the landscape was now crowded with people: thousands upon thousands, men, women and children of all sizes, types and ages; so many that the very ground upon which they stood seemed to sag beneath their numbers. And among them, again, were those that I recognized, including a giant and a dragon.
“This place is almost empty,” Snarks complained as he stared out the window beside me.
“Yes, gentlemen,” the driver continued, “in this place are arrayed your life’s companions. All those with whom you might form a bond, as indeed, in other realms, you wait as a companion for others.”
But there were thousands of them out there!
“Six?” Snarks whispered. “That’s all I’m ever going to get is—six companions? Plus, I know half of them already. You’re out there; I’d recognize that terrible posture anywhere. And that fellow wearing the breastplate that should house two or three—well, that was to be Hendrek. But wait—there’s someone else moving out there, someone so small I almost missed him. So small?” A look of horror overtook the demon’s countenance. “It could not be! He couldn’t be a companion of mine! Not—the Brownie!”
“I’m bringing the laces now—“ Tap mumbled from where he rested, deep within my pocket. The words were followed by a soft snoring.
“Indeed,” I replied, for what now happened here gave me much to think about. I saw thousands from the window, while Snarks perhaps saw seven. What could account for this discrepancy? Perhaps I was truly the Eternal apprentice, after all. Why else would I have so many and the demon so few?
“The Brownie?” Snarks whispered again. “Is there any way to send companions back?”
Well, it was either that I was the Eternal apprentice, I further conjectured, or Snarks’s nature was such that he annoyed almost everyone he met, thus keeping his companions to the barest minimum. Perhaps this quandary was unsolvable.
Hubert was making some consistent noise on the roof above us. After a moment’s conjecture, I decided it was a soft shoe.
“But we leave this realm behind as well,” the guide’s voice boomed, “as we move into a more dangerous corner of the cosmos.”
The light changed again, this time shifting to an angry red glow. I saw others, arrayed across the celestial countryside we passed, although this time they did not look so friendly. In fact, they looked rather more like monsters and demons of the most unsavory kind.
“We pass now,” the guide continued, “and very quickly, may I add, through the region of danger and fear. All your problems wait out there for you, gentlemen, and would be only too happy to get a chance at you now, rather than waiting until their proper time. Lucky for us, though, this bus is beyond their reach. It’s a little feature we have called climate control.”
I could not take my eyes off the fiends that we passed. I realized I had faced some of them before, both with my sword, Cuthbert, and with my stout oak staff. That must mean that I might have to face the many others sometime in the future.
Or perhaps I would not have to face any more of them, save one, for in the very center of the fiends stood Death, laughing.
“But that’s enough of that,” our guide interjected. “And now, as the heavenly shores recede farther into the distance, we pass through a few realms that are not so personal. Sit back and relax, as you see things not quite of the world below or this world above.”
The guide’s voice was replaced by that high choir music we had heard all over heaven.
The colors outside the bus changed again, then yet again, as if the vehicle was speeding us through many places on our way to our destination. Sights flashed by our window at lightning speed, at first portraying scenes of knights and heroes, as you might see on tapestries, then changing to more fantastic themes, as if we had once again returned to the fairy tales of the Eastern Kingdoms. And then the sights grew stranger still. A group of men wearing helmets and immense amounts of padding fought in the mud over a small brown ovoid. A second group of men holding sticks chased a small round stone around the ice. What was the meaning of these strange activities? A third group of very tall men wearing only their underwear bounced this large ball, occasionally crashing into each other as one of them tossed the ball into the air. Then the scene shifted again, and two very large men faced each other in a roped-off square, both leaping and grabbing, each man trying to get an advantage over the other.
Ah, but I knew what happened now! This was wrestling, the most popular sport in all of the Western Kingdoms! Then were those other, much stranger activities sports as well? But how could any other sport have the honesty and true excitement of the art of grappling? I was destined never to know, for the lighting shifted again.
This seemed to be a quieter realm, mostly made up of strangely garbed people engaged in earnest conversation, although, for some odd reason, the colors had become more intense than in any realm we had seen before. But there were flashes of other things as well: large containers of what appeared to be food and drink, and conveyances smaller than the bus we now rode in, but somehow related—these vehicles were almost always painted red, and seemed to come with a fair damsel seated within as these little buses moved all too fast down twisting roads.
The faces grew larger as I watched people cough and sneeze. My interest increased, for I hoped I might catch a glimpse of my master, but I saw naught but pictures of strange bottles and boxes, covered by pictures and lettering that were stranger still.
A giant head appeared from nowhere, accompanied by a voice so loud that it penetrated the window that separated us:
“I had a headache this big—“
“Whoops!” the guide called back to us. “We’ve gotten a little off course here. But don’t worry, folks, I just have to make a slight correction, and we’ll be in the Kingdom of Death in no time!”
The guide pulled another pair of cords. The bus shook. I heard a faint squealing sound from somewhere. All of the intense colors vanished, to be replaced by a world of gray.
I didn’t need the guide to tell us where we were now.
We had arrived in the Kingdom of Death.
I have always sworn by the wisdom of traveling with companions. In dangerous situations, the more companions you have, the more secure you will feel. Thus, should you be faced with a sudden attack by some fearsome beast of the forest, you will be better able to defend yourself if you have a companion or two by your side, rather than having to face the danger alone. Similarly, should you be the victim of a surprise attack by the Netherhells, a dozen weapon-wielding companions are more than welcome by your side.
And what about companions for that moment when you enter the Kingdom of Death? Well, let me put it to you this way: have you ever wanted the entire city of Vushta to be your friend?
From Some Thoughts on Apprenticeship, by Wuntvor, assistant to Ebenezum, greatest wizard in the Western Kingdoms
(a work in progress)
“Doesn’t look too lively around here, does it?” the guide’s cheer attempted, but failed, to penetrate the surrounding gloom. “And little wonder, ‘cause this is a dead town if I’ve ever seen one! Ha, ha! Just kidding, folks. Yes, we’ve reached our destination, land of the big D! But the tour has only begun! In the next few minutes, we’ll hit all the points of interest in this realm, and maybe, if we’re lucky, get a glimpse of the head specter itself!”
So we would see Death? I supposed there was no avoiding a confrontation, now that we had entered his realm. Still, I wished there was some way I might contact my master before I grappled with the bony fiend.
I looked out the window, but there was no sign of Death yet. In fact, there was not much sign of anything at all. The landscape about us was colorless, and almost featureless, as if the whole of the space around was coated with a thin fog above a layer of gray snow. It was hard to make out anything in the dim light, but I thought I saw figures moving slowly through the distance, at that point where objects went from indistinct to invisible.
“We are traveling now through the Region of Unrelieved Gray ness!” our guide explained. “At least that’s what they call it hereabouts. With a name like that, it’s no wonder property values around here are so low!”
“It’s too bad we need this guy to take us to your master,” Snarks whispered in my ear. “Otherwise, we could strangle him.”
I softly replied that Snarks should contain himself. Any moment now, it would be time to leave this bus and guide behind. That’s when the real danger would begin.
“But the Region of Unrelieved Grayness does not go on forever!” the guide announced happily. “No, we will pass beyond it in a moment to other parts of Death’s kingdom. For the land of the dead is as varied as the souls that reside here, as varied as all the worlds the dead have come from, if not more so.”
It became brighter outside as the guide spoke. The air was slowly clearing, and I could see hints of color through the haze, a faint blue here, a bit of pink there, a swatch of green close by the ground. Then, as if someone—or something—had snapped his fingers, the air cleared completely, and the view outside was as bright as noon on a summer’s day, except, oddly enough, that I could see no sign of the sun. We had entered a place full of green grass and blue sky, and were approaching a pavilion of tents, each a different color, and each one somehow, impossibly, brighter than the one before.
“You will see, over on your left, one of Death’s gaming areas,” our guide continued. “We’ll tour another of these later on, for they litter this realm. As some of you may know, Death is very fond of games.”
I could not suppress a shudder. I was all too aware of Death’s fondness for games. Up to this point, I had spent all my energy finding a way to reach my master. Now I would have to find a way to confront Death. What game would I have to play to rescue Ebenezum?
“There are places here that are not so different from the world you know, gentlemen,” the guide’s booming voice remarked. ‘ ‘In fact, we are now passing that part of Death’s domain that most resembles the Western Kingdoms. As you can see, we are surrounded by unrelieved greenery. It’s almost as dull as the real thing, isn’t it, folks?”
Western Kingdoms? Dull? Maybe I should reconsider Snarks’s offer to strangle this fellow.
“Why are these places here?” the guide continued rhetorically. “What is the reason for gray areas next door to regions of endless light? Who can truly fathom the world of the dead?” The bus divinity paused dramatically. “We may never know the answers to these questions. But perhaps we’ll get some inklings about those secrets at our first stop, just ahead. And, as an extra bonus, you can get any of a number of mouth-watering refreshments as well!”
The bus turned sharply and stopped. We had pulled up next to a small wooden structure with a festively painted sign hung across the roof:
LAND OF THE DEAD SOUVENIR SHOP and Snack Bar
(Tourist Tips, Too!)
“All the Dead Stop Here”
Other, smaller signs covered the window below:
PETRIFIED WOOD INSIDE!
We can supply all your ash and dust needs! 420 varieties!
Inert Objects of Every Kind! If it doesn’t move, we’ve got it!
“Everybody out!” the guide announced. “And don’t dawdle. The tour resumes in fifteen minutes.” And with that, Devorno climbed down the steps and out of the bus.
“Shall we?” I asked the demon.
“I’ll do anything to get away from here,” Snarks replied.
I led the way out of the strange vehicle.
“It’s quite something, isn’t it?” Hubert rumbled from the top of the bus.
“Indeed,” I said. “Then your journey was satisfactory?” I had to admit to myself that, in the heat of the tour, I had all but forgotten about Hubert crouching overhead. If I had not been so concerned for my master, I might have worried more for the dragon’s safety.
“More than satisfactory!” the dragon enthused. “Once I got used to the sudden changes in scenery, it became inspirational!”
“Inspirational?” Snarks replied with a bit of trepidation. The demon climbed down to my side.
“Yes!” the dragon replied rapturously. “Just think of the song-and-dance routines that can come out of an experience like this. Something like—“ Hubert cleared his throat and sang:
“You haven’t lived until you’ve seen The Kingdom of the Dead. It’s the sort of place to excite your spleen! You heard what I said! So go to the place that’s really keen Once your skin is shed Don’t waste time! Come on! Careen To that Kingdom of the Dead!”
His jaw snapped shut as he looked to us for approval.
“Indeed,” I remarked.
“Or something like that,” he added. “After all, it’s only a first draft.”
“Indeed,” I said again, digging my heels into the ground, which seemed as real as the earth beneath one’s feet in the Western Kingdoms. “Should we go inside?”
“I think we have to,” Snarks answered dryly. “At least, we do if we want to get our money’s worth.”
“If it’s all right with you fellows,” Hubert said, “I think I’ll simply stay out here and experience’.”
I nodded, and told Snarks to follow me, for I realized that there was another reason to go inside as well. Now that we had reached the Kingdom of Death, we had to find my master. What better place to start than an information center like this?
As I opened the door to the strange structure, I felt the Brownie stir in my pocket and mutter something about shining the buckles in a minute. Perhaps, I considered, now was the time to wake the sleeping Tap.
The door made a noise as I opened it: a sound halfway between a squeaking hinge and Death’s dark laughter. It took me a second to realize that the specter wasn’t waiting for me on the other side.
“That got your attention, didn’t it?” Devomo shouted from across the room. “I tell you, Death is a marketing genius!”
Snarks frowned as he looked around the room, which seemed filled with piles of stones and dust. Signs stuck from the pile tops:
Dirt Cheap! Everything Must Go! Rock-bottom Prices!
“This is marketing genius?” the demon asked.
“Well,” Devomo said, “perhaps this place is not the best example. But it is only one small piece of Death’s handiwork. Who do you think came up with the idea of war, anyway?”
“Indeed,” I interjected. “You mentioned the possibility of refreshments?” It had occurred to me that, if we were going to wander through the Kingdom of Death for who knew how long in search of my master, perhaps it would be better to eat first.
“Most certainly,” our guide replied. “The food counter is in the back over there.” He pointed to the rear of the building. I saw a small table, over which hung a placard which listed prices for “Rigor Mortis Burgers” and “Death Shakes.” What kind of food was this?
“Uh,” I added, for it occurred to me that I had seen no one but Devorno and Snarks within this building, “is there no one here to serve us?”
“Well, there may not be anyone in particular,” our guide explained a bit apologetically, “but there is definitely something.” He pointed at the table in the back. “Simply put your money there, and state what it is that you desire. The item will appear almost instantaneously. It’s a little disconcerting, I’ll grant you. But around here, it’s a lot more pleasant than many of the other possibilities. Trust me.”
“Indeed,” I replied. Now that I thought of it, I was wondering if I could trust the food. For one thing, there was something about the name “Rigor Mortis Burger” that did nothing for the appetite. And a second point to consider was Death’s love for games. If the specter knew I was here, would it playfully add something to the burger that would ensure I would stay in Death’s kingdom forever?
“On second thought,” I stated, “I’m not hungry.”
“Probably wise,” Devorno admitted. “This place is worse than Slime-o-Rama.”
“Home of the Slime Burgers?” Snarks responded. “That isn’t possible!”
But the bus deity no longer heard the demon. Instead, he stared at the door through which we had entered, his face twisted in fright.
“I shouldn’t have said that, should I?” he whimpered. “I know I’m under contract. Please, if you’re going to—make it quick, and painless?”
A great shadow fell across the room. I wanted to turn around, to confront the newcomer, but fear kept me rooted to the spot. Snarks, full of demonic bravery, wheeled about. His jaw opened in astonishment.
“It cannot be!”
A hand fell on my shoulder.
“Excuse me,” said a voice both gentle and powerful, it was a voice I knew.
The newcomer spoke again:
“You wouldn’t happen to know where I might find a wild pig?”
It was the Dealer of Death.
You can’t go home again, and why would you want to, anyways?
From The Demonwise Guide to the Netherhells, or Why I’m Glad You’re Going and I’m Not, by Snarks, most honest demon to ever come from down below (another tome still awaiting publication)
Snarks said what I could only think.
“What are you doing here?”
The Dealer of Death sighed. “That means you don’t have any wild pigs, doesn’t it?”
“Indeed,” I replied. “I’m afraid we didn’t think to bring any. But then we weren’t expecting to encounter you, either.”
The Dealer nodded. “You are no more surprised than I. One minute, I was facing up to that Netherhells committee, which was threatening to boil my blood. The next thing I knew, here I was—wherever this is.”
I briefly answered that when I had last seen the Dealer, it had been in Vushta, after the demon committee had indeed boiled his blood, sending him into a near-death coma.
“Then he’s dead?” Snarks asked in disbelief. “He doesn’t look very dead to me.”
“Nor do I feel it.” The Dealer absently flexed his shoulder muscles as he considered my most recent statement. “And your explanation makes a great deal of sense to me, for it explains why I am different from the others here.”
The large fellow cracked his knuckles, ten small, simultaneous explosions. “For although I am in this place, I do not seem subject to its rules in the same way as those I have met. Perhaps it is because my earthly body still straddles that line between life and death. From what I understand, Death usually takes a more active interest in cases like me who have halfway entered his kingdom. However, from what I have also heard, the specter has become obsessed with something lately, and has no time for the likes of me, instead spending its days muttering ‘Eternal, eternal.’ Whatever that means.”
“Indeed,” I said grimly. “I may have some idea.”
The Dealer nodded happily. “I figured that you might. I’ve noticed that things always seem to happen around you, and decided that that was exactly what I needed. I mean, it’s perfectly nice around here, except that perhaps it’s a bit low-key. And I haven’t strangled a single wild pig since I’ve gotten here!” He sighed again. “I mean, how can you strangle something when it’s already dead?”
The Dealer’s hands closed around an imaginary neck as he continued. “I shouldn’t have hoped, I guess. It’s simply when I saw you had a dragon outside, I thought ...” His voice trailed off, leaving his fondest dream unsaid.
“Indeed?” I asked. “So you are here to help us?”
“Of course,” the Dealer answered. “You’re the sort of fellow who inspires that sort of thing.”
I could do nothing but nod in return, for that very talent of mine was one of the reasons Death wanted me for its own. But I would not despair, for my master’s life was in danger.
“Indeed,” I began after I took a deep breath. “Then you will help me find the wizard Ebenezum?”
“Most certainly, if that is what you wish,” the Dealer agreed. “It feels good to have a direction again. After all, an assassin in the land of the dead is a bit purposeless.”
“Then lead on!” I pointed to the door. “Into the Kingdom of the Dead!”
“Wait a second!” Devomo interrupted. “What about the tour?”
“I am sorry, good guide,” I responded, “but the tour will have to wait. We have a wizard to rescue and a world to save!”
“Hey, if you didn’t like the tour, just say so!” the guide replied defensively. “Excuses, excuses, nothing but excuses.”
“No, really!” I retorted, trying not to hurt the divinity’s feelings. “We have to leave here, for reasons having nothing to do with you—“
“Sure, sure,” the guide answered despondently. “Dig the knife in a little deeper. Why don’t you tell me right out—“
“Okay,” Snarks interrupted before I could further explain. “You found us out. I’ve never heard a more boring guide in my life. We didn’t want to go on your tour, anyway! But now that we’ve left it, maybe we’ll be able to wake ourselves up!”
“What?” Devorno replied in outrage. “Well, if that’s the way you feel about it!”
The guide stormed past us out of the shop. A second later, I heard the strange sound that the bus made when it moved; then that sound, too, retreated into the distance.
Snarks nodded in satisfaction. “Cruel but fair. It’s the demon way. Otherwise it would have taken us forever to get rid of him.”
“Indeed,” I said, wondering if there might have been some other way. But perhaps the demon was right for once, for now we were free to find my master.
I turned to the others, and told them there was no time to delay. Only, where could we begin?
“Leave that to me,” the Dealer remarked quietly as he motioned us to follow him from the shop. “I have had time to explore, and I have found the perfect starting point.”
Snarks and I accompanied the dealer outside the dwelling, where we found a somewhat disgruntled dragon.
“All I have to say,” the reptile remarked sternly, “is, if you want the top of your bus back, you only have to ask.” He paused to brush some imaginary dust from his tail. “Here I was, one minute basking in the glow of whatever it is the light around here comes from, and the next—whamo!--the bus has vanished and I am deposited on whatever passes for the ground around here, which is quite substantial, let me assure you.” The dragon winced as he tried to sit. “What did you do to that deity? You guys didn’t somehow incur his wrath or anything?”
I told the dragon I would explain everything as we moved. At the moment, the most important thing was to locate my master.
Hubert stared at the Dealer of Death.
“Say. Aren’t you—“
The Dealer nodded.
“It doesn’t surprise me,” the dragon replied laconically. “Nothing surprises me anymore.” He paused, then added hopefully: “I wonder if there’s a song in there somewhere.”
“Indeed,” I added. “If only we had time to explore the possibilities. Unfortunately, we must follow the Dealer.”
And we did just that, walking after the well-muscled assassin into that nearby forest that looked an awful lot like the Western Woods.
The Dealer frowned. “I know it’s around here somewhere.” He turned left, crossing a stream and passing a twisted oak that somehow seemed very familiar.
“Yes, yes!” the Dealer exclaimed with new excitement. “This is the way!”
I followed the assassin uneasily, almost overwhelmed by deja vu. This was not simply the Western Woods; this was the corner of the woods directly behind Ebenezum’s cottage.
“Ah!” the Dealer chortled. “As I suspected. Here we are.”
And we were. We stepped out of the forest halfway between the cottage and the well from which I used to fetch water. But how could this be? We weren’t in the Western Woods, we were in the Kingdom of Death.
“This is not the real thing,” the Dealer assured me, “but an incredible simulation.”
“But how would you know about this place?” I asked. “And how could you know that this looked like my master’s cottage?”
“You forget,” the Dealer replied, “that I am a member of the Urracht sect, the most fanatically devoted order of assassins that the world has ever known. When I was first hired by King Urfoo the Vengeful to kill your master and his companions, I, of course, spent a few days learning everything I could about the wizard. And that included all I could discover about the wizard’s dwelling, should I have to kill him there. Now, certainly, that we are in the Kingdom of Death, all this killing business becomes academic. But still, it was important at the time.”
“Indeed,” I commented, impressed by this man’s fanatical devotion. Thank goodness his mission to kill us was far in the past, or perhaps far in the future.
“So are we going to stand around here and admire the simulation,” Snarks prompted, “or what?”
“Indeed, no,” I replied. “But perhaps this place holds some clue to my master’s whereabouts.”
“It holds more than that.” The dealer pointed at the steps that led into the cottage. “Look.”
If I had been surprised before, now I was downright astonished, for on the top step was a very familiar pile of books and mystical instruments, a pile that had once resided in my pack, until I had been snatched aloft by a giant bird who wasn’t too concerned about what happened to my possessions. And as I approached, I saw there were other things upon the pile as well: my stout oak staff, a hefty wizardry do-it-yourself book and the crystal ball.
“What is all this doing here?” I asked.
The Dealer considered. “These are all things that you lost, are they not?”
I nodded in wonder.
“Well,” the Dealer continued, “here’s where they are to be found. Perhaps all lost objects end in the Kingdom of the Dead, I don’t know. Or perhaps this is a special case. Look around at this exact reproduction of your home in the
Western Woods. I told you before that I had studied you and your master. I have a feeling that someone, or something, else has become even more obsessed than I with where you and the wizard come from, so obsessed that it was forced to re-create all this, in hopes that it would give some clue as to your background, something that it could use to overcome its obsession. Am I correct?”
I nodded again. “The specter has done this, then, to seek out my weakness.”
The Dealer nodded in return. “Only time will tell if it has succeeded.”
“Indeed,” I replied. “Then it is doubly important that I contact my master, for this strange place has given me the means to do so.”
I climbed the step and picked up the crystal ball, then paused a moment while I fished the incantation from my pocket. Would that Brownie never wake up? But I had no time to think of Tap now. I only had the time and energy to contact my master.
“Secret sphere, seashore seer—“ I began, rapidly reading through the rhyme without a hitch. The crystal ball clouded obediently, without errant noises or spoken messages. This time, it would work for sure!
“I must—“ I began, barely able to speak for the excitement rising within my breast. “I must speak with my master, the great wizard Ebenezum!”
To my astonishment, I was answered by a very familiar voice:
“Yes, Wuntvor?”
But I could see nothing in the crystal! I feared the clouds would keep me from fully contacting my master. I shook the sphere, trying to conquer the mystic forces therein.
“Master?” I called. “Ebenezum? Where are you?”
Someone tapped me on the shoulder. I glanced around.
“Indeed,” a voice intoned.
It was my master.
“You ask if I have any comment about those six attractive and scantily clad women that were seen leaving my study the other day. And perhaps, because of that visit, it is true that I am not quite the wizard that you had thought me to be. Happily, however, the young women who visited me also had entirely different thoughts. Next question?”
Ebenezum, during the conference in which he claimed “that everything about Wizardgate will be revealed”
“Indeed?” I cried, quite beside myself.
“Yes,” my master replied. “Here I am. Death didn’t know what else to do with me.”
“Hey, that’s great!” Hubert enthused. “Now that we’ve found the wizard, we can get out of here!” The dragon paused. “Uh, we can get out of here, can’t we?”
“Indeed,” my master said as he thoughtfully tugged on his beard. “How did you manage to find me in the first place? I imagine we could simply reverse the process.”
“Oops,” Snarks remarked as I glanced his way. “Hey, how could I know that boring tour guide might actually become important?”
I briefly described how we had enlisted Plaugg’s aid to reach this place, but then had to somehow rid ourselves of the bus of the gods.
“I see,” Ebenezum said when I was done. “ Tis a shame, but it can’t be helped. I am glad to see you, anyway, Wuntvor. Working together, we have a much better chance against the specter than I had by myself.”
“So you can use magic around here?” Hubert asked.
“I suppose so. I don’t seem to have the reaction to it I once had: sneezing and all that. However, there is a problem using magic in Death’s domain. This house you see, these woods, the sky above us, the ground below, all are creations of the specter’s imagination; of its own very powerful magic, if you will. Therefore, any spells you try here exist within that greater sorcery—Death’s sorcery, perhaps the greatest magic ever known—which might give your own magic some unexpected results.”
“Indeed,” I replied, marveling at how well my master grasped the situation. It was good to be able to rely on his wisdom again.
“So, Wuntvor,” the wizard asked, “what shall we do next?”
“In-indeed?” I stammered, rather taken aback. My master was here, and whenever I was with my master, he automatically took charge. At least that had happened until now. This time, however, he was asking for my advice!
I took a deep breath. Very well. My master’s request had been a surprise, but I would not let it get the better of me. Ebenezum had been trapped in Death’s kingdom for some time now, and perhaps felt his facilities were somewhat hampered by being so long in these surroundings. What more natural, then, but to ask advice of someone who was new on the scene, and not yet under the spell of the Kingdom of the Dead? It made perfect sense.
“Indeed,” I repeated. “I had not given it much thought. I was so concerned with finding you that I had not spent much time planning what would happen thereafter. I do have a couple ideas, however.”
“Indeed,” the wizard mused, an odd glint in his eye. “You must share them with me.”
“In a minute!” Snarks interjected. “First, the apprentice and I must have a conference.”
“Really?” Ebenezum chuckled dryly. “I hardly think that is necessary.”
“Indeed,” I began, turning to the demon. “If there is some problem, cannot we all—“
“The necessity of our talk can only be determined as we confer,” Snarks insisted. “Besides, it will only take a moment. You surely have a moment, after being here all this time.”
“If you put it that way,” I said, “I suppose—“
“Wuntvor!” my master barked, suddenly severe. “We are back together after all this time. Surely you don’t need to leave now to talk to a demon?”
“Indeed,” I replied. The wizard hardly sounded like himself. I guessed that the long days of being trapped in Death’s domain had taken then- toll. “Still, I don’t think a minute—“
“Do not dispute me!” Ebenezum rumbled, his eyes dark with fury. “You will come with me now.”
“But is that the wisest course?” I counseled the wizard. “I know that you must be anxious to leave this place, but until we fully consider the options—“
The wizard pointed at me with one long-fingered hand. “You will come with me now, or not at all.”
“Very well,” I answered, trying to calm my master down. “But are you sure this is the best way—“
“I know what the best course is for the Eternal Apprentice!” the mage exclaimed. “Wuntvor, take my hand!”
His long fingers reached for me, fingers that seemed bonier than I remembered. Had Death been starving my master as well? I glanced at Snarks, who was vehemently shaking his head. What did the demon know that he could not tell me? Surely, taking the wizard’s hand could not harm me.
But I looked at that hand again, at those five bony, white fingers. Perhaps it would harm me, after all.
I took a step away.
“You will not get away that easily!” the mage declared as he made a quick grab for me. I stepped aside, but his fingers gripped the flap of my pack, tearing it open.
“Eep eep!” cried the angry ferret as it erupted in the wizard’s face.
“A ferret?” the mage shrieked. “Keep it away from me! You know how I feel about ferrets!”
Now I was sure something was wrong.
My master didn’t feel one way or another about ferrets. The last time I had produced scores of them from my magic hat, he had taken them perfectly in stride. But I remembered something else that had an aversion to the small, rapidly reproducing creatures.
The mage brushed the animal aside and recomposed himself, staring at me with ever more hollow eyes.
“You will come with me now!” the wizard demanded, but somehow, silently, the Dealer had moved so that he stood between the mage and myself.
“Perhaps it is time to calm yourself,” the Dealer said reasonably.
“Calm?” the wizard screamed. “How can I have any calm when he is here!” The mage’s hand shook as he pointed at me. “I will have you yet!”
And with those words his robes changed, losing their silver moons and stars and becoming garments of darkest black. His hands turned bonier still, and the beard fell away, revealing a skull-like grin. Death’s grin.
Death laughed, the sound of insects drowning in the incoming tide. “Why should I get upset? You are in my domain now. There is no way to escape.” It spent a moment smoothing its robes; a moment, I suspect, used to gain the calm the specter already professed. “You have won our first little game. But there will be more; many more.”
The death’s-head smile seemed to widen. “I had wondered where you had gotten to. Heaven, was it? How very clever. But I should have expected something of the sort from the Eternal Apprentice! I was actually caught off my guard when you arrived, for at least half a minute.” It laughed again, the sound of lemmings plunging to their doom. “Now, however, that we have been properly rein- traduced, we shall play by my rules. You have no choice, if you ever want to see your master again!”
Death’s laughter echoed about us, but the specter had vanished from our midst.
“Indeed,” I said to Snarks, when I once again remembered to breathe. “Was that what you wished to tell me?”
“Something of the sort,” the demon said. “It’s a talent I picked up in the Netherhells. When you’re surrounded by liars, cheats and confidence fiends from the day you are born, you tend to readily recognize the type. I wasn’t exactly sure who that was at first. I was only certain that it was not your master. Then, I’ll admit, when I guessed that it was really Death”—the demon shivered—“I was afraid if I went and told you about it the wrong way, we’d all get zapped.”
“I had no idea Death was such a great actor,” Hubert added with new respect. “Imagine the career the specter could have if it wasn’t so intent on killing people.”
“We are in Death’s kingdom,” the Dealer reminded us quietly. “Here, the specter can do almost anything. Because we are still alive, it has no direct control over us. However, since this is its domain, I’m sure Death could devise any number of means to make us no longer alive.”
“But if this being is so powerful,” Snarks objected, “why are we still breathing?”
The Dealer nodded. “There is another factor we have not considered. Death seems to have an emotional problem when it comes to the Eternal apprentice—the mention of the name alone is enough to get the specter to lose its coldly rational head. When the Eternal Apprentice confronts it directly—well, then, death has real problems. And in those problems is the hope for our salvation.”
“Indeed,” I interjected, trying to comprehend the gist of what the Dealer had just told us. “I am quite impressed with your understanding of this situation.”
“It is only natural, when you think about it,” the Dealer replied humbly. “After all, as an assassin, death has been my life.”
“Indeed,” I said again. “But what you have told me is disquieting as well. Death controls this kingdom so completely that it can make us see or feel anything it wishes.”
“Within the limits I have already described,” the Dealer agreed. “You can depend on nothing in this kingdom, except your wits.”
“Indeed,” I replied after a moment’s consideration. “My wits?”
“His wits?” Snarks exclaimed. “Oh, no, we’ve lost for sure.”
“No, not simply his wits,” the Dealer reprimanded the demon. “Although you do make light of someone who is the Eternal Apprentice. But, besides his wits, we also have those of myself and the dragon. Not to mention your wits.”
“Oh,” Snarks said, a bit humbled. “My wits? In that case, we can’t lose!”
“Indeed, we have more than those,” I added. “For we also have the wits of the ferret, small as they may be, and two more intelligences as well.”
I drew forth Cuthbert by way of demonstration.
“What? Huh?” the sword began. “I thought you were going to leave me in there forever! Oh, I know, sometimes I ask you to do things like that, but I don’t really mean it. That is, I don’t mean it as long as there’s no blood to be spilled anywhere. There isn’t, is there? Or ichor?”
I assured the talking blade that the immediate region was battle-free.
“Ah,” Cuthbert sighed. “Then it’s simply a chance to get free of my scabbard and see the sights. That’s more like it! It’s nice around here, too. Very bright and cheerful. Would anyone mind telling me where we are?”
I told the sword we were in the Kingdom of Death.
“The Kingdom of whatT’ Cuthbert squawked. “That does not sound at all positive. What are you going to want me to cut up around here? Trust you to find a place where there’s something worse than ichor!”
“Alas,” the Dealer of Death remarked. “Such is the lot of heroes.”
“Oh-oh,” the sword shuddered. “I remember this guy! When he was wielding me, it was blood city! Hack and slash, slash and hack, morning, noon and night. Then, for a change of pace, we did gorings and decapitations! This guy never paused for breath!”
“On the contrary,” the Dealer interposed, “I find decapitations quite restful.”
“Indeed,” I tried to calm the sword, for I, too, remembered when the Dealer had used Cuthbert to hack and slash his way across the Netherhells. “I imagine there will be scant need for killing, since everybody else around here is already dead. And, for similar reasons, I can’t see any reason why I would have to lend you to someone.”
“That’s the ticket!” Cuthbert cheered. “I’m your sword, and don’t you forget it! Now, would you mind putting me back in my scabbard until we’re someplace normal?”
I did as the sword requested.
“I’m not worried at all now,” Snarks remarked. “That weapon is going to be a whole bunch of help!”
“But didn’t you say there were two who could help us?” Hubert rumbled.
“That’s true,” I replied. “And I think it’s time to wake the second one.” I patted my pocket.
“The second one?” Snarks asked with a shudder. “In there?”
I nodded.
“You didn’t bring—‘ the demon was unable to name the object of his fear.
I nodded again.
The demon looked up to the heavens, if there were indeed heavens in this realm.
“Is there no escape?” he whispered.
“Indeed,” I said. “Not in this life.” I tapped my pocket.
“Wha—“ the Brownie mumbled. “Who?” The little fellow yawned and stretched, standing so that he could peer over the pocket top. “Sorry. I seem to have taken a little nap, there. Too much Brownie Power, I guess. Where are we? What time is it?”
A spectral laugh swallowed whatever answer I might have made. Death was once again in our midst.
“It is time for the games to begin,” it intoned dryly.
I saw then that Death was not alone. It had brought a man-size cage along, and in that cage was my master, the wizard Ebenezum!
“These games will be different from those we’ve played before,” Death continued summarily. “We are in my kingdom, so we will play by my rules. It goes without saying, of course, that I also get to choose the games we play.”
“Indeed—“ I began.
“An interesting point,” Death conceded before I could go any further. “In the sake of fairness, therefore, for I may be more experienced at one or two of these pastimes, I suggest we play best out of three. Any objections?”
“Indeed—“ I tried again.
“Excellent,” the specter replied. “As in any true game, there is of course a prize for winning, and a forfeit for losing. The prize, you will be happy to learn, is the wizard Ebenezum, as well as freedom for you and your companions. That was what you were going to ask, wasn’t it?”
“Indeed,” I answered, “but—“
“Oh, yes,” Death hurriedly added, “if you win and are returned to the world you know, you will of course be allowed to live out the rest of your natural lives.” The specter grinned at each of us. “However long or short those lives may be.”
“Indeed!” I interjected once more. “However—“
“Oh, the forfeit!” Death chuckled, the sound of a fish flopping about in a bucket as it drowns in the open air. “Well, you know what that is, don’t you? If you lose two, none of you get to leave. And the Eternal Apprentice is mine forever!”
I was silent this time.
“Do you accept?” Death demanded.
What could I do? I looked over at my master. He solemnly nodded back at me. Did that mean I should accept Death’s challenge? What other way could I possibly have of rescuing the wizard and escaping the specter’s clutches?
There was only one answer.
“Indeed,” I replied.
“Excellent!” Death said heartily. The specter swept back its robes and surveyed me and all my companions before it spoke again. “I have thought upon this moment long and hard, and I have decided that for our first game, we should have something steeped in tradition. A game of skill, and a game of champions. And only one game could truly suit all these criteria.”
Death raised his hand, palm up, before him, and in that hand appeared a sphere not unlike my crystal ball, save that this new globe was jet-black.
“The game, gentlemen”—Death spoke slowly, drawing out the suspense—“is bowling.”
There are rumors that I have heard that wizards are not “good sports.” Nothing could be further from the truth. Most mages I know will be glad to turn you into any number of lower animals and other life-forms. What? You don’t want to be turned into a tadpole or tree fungus? Well, who’s being a good sport now? No answer, huh? Oh, I forgot, tree fungi can’t talk. Can they?”
Introductory chapter to the great wizard Ebenezum’s newest self-help course, How to Make Friends and Influence People by Threatening to Turn Them Into Toads, never released to the general public, due to some problems among test groups with getting tree fungi to continue paying for lessons
“B-bowling?” I sputtered. “But we have never heard of such a thing!”
Death waved away my objections with a bony hand. “You will pick it up soon enough. If not”—it paused to stare at me with its blank eye sockets—“perhaps we can give you all of eternity to practice.”
The specter waved both hands. “But I said this was a game of champions.” The hands pointed to his right. “Therefore, let my champion appear.”
A puff of orange smoke appeared where Death had indicated, and there stood a man, average-looking, a couple inches shorter than myself, fairly well muscled, but no match for a specimen like the Dealer of Death. All in all, the fellow looked absolutely too ordinary to be a champion, save for one thing: his bright orange and green shirt. I looked more closely at this strange new garment, and saw that over the pocket was written a single word: “Ernie.”
“This is my champion,” Death announced as it waved its hands again. “And this is our field of battle.”
A long wooden aisle appeared before us, at the end of which stood ten clublike objects.
“Ernie?” Death said to his champion. “If you would explain?”
“Gladly.” The champion nodded pleasantly to the rest of us. “How you doin’, fellas?” He picked up the black sphere, which had reappeared by the wooden aisle. “This is a bowling ball. That”—he nodded at the aisle—“is the lane, down which you roll the ball. The object of the game is to hit those pins”—he pointed at the club things at the other end—“and knock them over. Every time it’s your turn, you get two tries to knock the pins down. The more pins you knock down, the better you do. Like this.”
Ernie took three steps forward and launched the ball down the wooden lane. The ball curved slightly, then swung back in again, knocking all ten pins over with a solid crash.
“That, gentlemen,” Ernie continued, “is the best you can do. It’s known as a strike. If you take both your turns to knock down all the pins, it’s known as a spare. You’ll get extra points—“
“Enough explanations!” Death interrupted. “They can ask questions as they go along. I’ve waited too long for this to delay another instant! They must choose their champion now!”
“Indeed,” I replied. “If you—“
“Ah,” Death answered before I could go further. “You would like some privacy? Of course.”
I didn’t feel any movement, nor did I see Death, his champion and the caged Ebenezum move, yet, somehow, there were now a hundred yards between us. It was all a bit disconcerting. Still, it was no more disconcerting than Death answering me before I had spoken. I would have to deal with it somehow. But why didn’t I feel more positive about that thought?
“Indeed,” I said to my companions. “We need a champion.”
“For bowling?” Snarks despaired.
“If you could distract those guys,” Hubert offered, “I might be able to knock the pins down with my tail.”
“And I might be able to influence the ball with Brownie Power,” Tap piped up. “However, it would be much better if the game had shoes in it.”
“No,” I replied, “I have the feeling that if we tried to influence the game through magical means, Death would simply influence it the other way. We will play honestly, unless Death does otherwise. And I think there is only one here with the skill and accuracy necessary to become our champion, to stand up in the face of Death and overcome any challenge—“
“I’m touched by this show of faith—“ Hubert began.
“No, no,” I gently told the dragon. “Your expertise lies in other, more theatrical areas. For the sport of bowling, I’m afraid we must turn to the Dealer.”
“I shall do my best,” the assassin replied humbly. “Perhaps I can imagine that the ball is a wild pig.”
I clapped the well-muscled fellow on the shoulder, hurting my hand slightly. “I’m sure you will do admirably,” I said as I flexed my hand behind my back.
“You are decided?” Death asked, suddenly at our side once more. “Good! Let the competition begin!” The specter coughed delicately. “I, of course, will act as commentator.”
Somehow, the light around us dimmed, so that the only truly bright spot was in the vicinity of the bowling lane. I heard the soft murmur of a crowd. Death apparently had seen fit to bring some of its ghosts along.
“Your champion should go first,” the Dealer declared. “I need to study his form.”
“Very good,” Death repeated in a strangely hushed tone. “The challenger has elected for our Bowling for Souls champion to start. Ernie waits for the pins to set. He takes careful aim. One, two, three steps, and a perfect release! The ball’s rolling, rolling. It looks good! Yes, it’s a strike!”
The ball had hit the first pin ever so slightly to one side, which helped knock over the pins behind it, and they the pins behind them. All ten were down. It was an impressive performance. Was there any way the Dealer could match it?
The assassin looked grimly down the lane as the pins magically righted themselves.
“I will do my best,” he whispered to me. “No less could be expected from one of the Urracht!”
He held the ball as he saw the champion hold it, and took the same steps, one, two, three.
“Now the challenger has the ball,” Death’s soft voice intoned. “He steps forward cautiously.”
Something squealed out in the audience.
“The challenger releases the ball,” Death announced. “Uh-oh, it’s curving the wrong way. It looks like a gutter ball!”
The Dealer stared out into the audience. “Is that a wild pig?”
“The challenger receives a second ball,” Death droned on.
“I could have sworn I heard a wild pig,” the Dealer insisted.
“The challenger must release the ball, or forfeit his turn,” Death replied with no change of tone.
“That’s the way it’s going to be, then?” the assassin remarked grimly. “So be it.”
“The challenger gets the ball, and prepares himself again,” Death returned to describing the action. “Here comes the approach.”
This time the squeal was even louder. The Dealer barely flinched.
“There goes the ball. It looks like a better shot this time. He’ll at least get a couple pins. No! It’s curving in! Give five, no, six pins to the challenger.”
His turn completed, the Dealer silently returned to my side. He whispered in my ear:
“You do not toy with the Urracht!”
“The champion once again has the ball,” Death commented.
Ernie glanced nervously at the specter.
“Isn’t it getting a little noisy in here?”
The champion was right. Not only were there wild-pig noises out there, but the crowd was getting louder as well. Another ploy, I imagined, to undermine the Dealer’s confidence. Now, however, that the assassin knew about these tricks, I felt Death might be in for a surprise.
“The champion is being a bit temperamental,” Death replied. “He has obviously forgotten what happens in this kingdom to temperamental champions. But no, now he is steeling himself, reaching inside for that special something shared by all great athletes. He moves forward with the ball. There it goes. It looks good—maybe just a little off. Oh, too bad! Five pins down. The shot was a bit too much to the right side.”
Ernie waited for the ball to come back to him. He had begun to sweat, even though the air wasn’t appreciably warm. I wondered exactly what it was that they did to temperamental champions down here.
“Here he goes again,” Death whispered. “Yes, he’s got it! The other five are down! That’s Ernie for you! He always gives a hundred and ten percent. What a competitor!”
It was the Dealer’s turn again, but this time he approached with a determination that went beyond anything I had ever seen before, a fanaticism based on the total destruction of ten pins at the far end of the lane.
The assassin felled all ten with the first ball, despite the three wild-pig bleats from the audience.
“An impressive move,” Death muttered, “but it won’t phase the champion.”
Ernie, however, looked completely phased. His hair was matted now with sweat, and he jumped every time something made a sound like a wild pig.
“I-I am not used to w-working under these conditions!” he stammered.
“Some champions may get used to not working at all,” Death replied. The threat did little good. Ernie got two pins with his first ball, and only one with his second.
The Dealer got another strike, despite a full score of wild pigs crying their hearts out.
He nodded grimly to me upon his return.
“Before, it was just a ball and ten pins. Now it is a weapon against ten wild pigs!”
We would win this one. The Dealer of Death was in his element.
“Okay, okay!” Death remarked in a more normal tone. “I know when I’m beaten. I forfeit. You win the first of the three challenges.”
Hubert cheered as Ernie disappeared.
“But perhaps it was a bit unfair,” Death continued generously, “presenting you with a sport that you had never witnessed before as your first game. I think the next contest shall be a bit simpler—say, a guessing game?”
“A contest of wits?” Snarks demanded. “Let’s have at it, then. I am ready.”
“As I knew you would be. But we are not quite prepared. Give me a moment while I call up an impartial third party.”
There was a puff of blue smoke by Death’s left side, quickly replaced by a tall, frail fellow with stooped shoulders and squinting eyes.
“Our judge,” Death introduced the newcomer.
“I’m as impartial as they get in this kingdom,” the frail fellow agreed.
“And I have appointed our judge as keeper of the rules,” the specter added. “I trust that is satisfactory?”
“Indeed,” I replied, not wishing to quibble over a minor point. “And what rules must we follow?”
The judge unfolded a crumpled sheet of parchment. His voice quavered slightly as he read:
“The first rule is that no one is to ask about the rules. The penalty is an immediate forfeit.”
“What?” Snarks demanded. “How can we forfeit a game we don’t even know about?”
“It is a little severe, so early in the game,” Death agreed. “Why don’t we give them another chance?”
“You’re the boss,” the frail fellow replied. “The game goes on.”
“I should say so!” Snarks exclaimed. “Who ever heard of those kinds of rules!”
The judge further unfolded the parchment before him, and again read aloud:
“The second rule is that no one is to complain about the rules. The penalty is immediate forfeit.”
“Wait a second!” Snarks demanded. “That rule is all tied up with the first one. This is no fair at all!”
“I’m sorry,” the judge replied, “but it says here—“
“Now, now,” Death interrupted. “Even I will admit that these rules are a bit arbitrary. Why not give our guests one more chance? That way, no one could possibly accuse us of any bias.”
The judge shrugged. “If you say so.” He nodded to the rest of us. “You guys are getting off easy here. The game goes on again. Well?” He tapped his foot impatiently. “It’s your move!”
Snarks turned to me. “What do we do?”
“Indeed,” I replied, for I had given the matter some thought. “We do nothing.”
“Nothing?” the demon replied.
“Exactly. For what has happened the last two times we attempted to start the game?”
“We immediately lost.” Snarks’s face brightened as he saw my point. “Oh, I see! You’re saying that the game is so constructed that if you attempt to play it—“
“You lose,” I finished the thought for him. “So the only thing we can do—the only way we can win—is if we refuse to play.” ,
“Brilliant!” Snarks admitted. “And coming from a human, too! My hat would be off to you, if I wore one.”
“So,” the judge called to us. “What is the delay? The game must continue!”
I cautioned my companions to silence with a single glance.
“No response?” the judge frowned. “I see.” He further unfolded his parchment and read:
“The third rule is that, should anyone refuse to continue playing the game, they will automatically lose. In other words, immediate forfeit.”
This time Death shrugged. “What else can we do? I think the judge and I have been more than fair.”
“The game is over,” the judge agreed.
Death tsked. “Unfortunately, you have brought this upon yourselves, gentle beings, and you have lost. We now stand tied with one contest apiece.”
The judge popped out of existence, and the specter paused a moment to stare at each of us in turn.
“I think we should all take a few minutes,” Death said slowly, “and consider the importance of our last contest, which will be far more trying than either of those which have gone before. After all, the third game decides whether the wizard goes back with you, or you come to me, for all eternity.”
Death’s laugh was so cold that it seemed to freeze my heart.
And his laughter went on forever.
Sometimes, being in the magic business can be a little difficult. Then again, sometimes it can be downright dangerous. In fact, in certain situations, this kind of work can become outright deadly. And then there’s times when it gets really bad—
Unfinished chapter from Some Thoughts on Apprenticeship, by Wuntvor, apprentice to Ebenezum, greatest wizard in die Western Kingdoms
(a work in progress)
“The time is come!”
Death once again stood at arm’s reach.
I shook my head. Before this last contest began, there was one more deceit that needed to be taken care of.
“Indeed!” I called to the specter, for I would not lose this battle without a fight. “Before we begin our last contest, I need a promise.”
“A promise?” The fiend nodded its bony head. “Very well. As you know, Death always keeps its promises.”
“Good,” I replied. “Then show us the real Ebenezum.”
The specter chuckled. “Oh, you want to see the real wizard! I suppose, if you insist—“
Death waved its hands, and the mage within the cage changed subtly. The revised wizard pulled at his robes as he looked about.
“Why, Wiimtvor,” my master remarked. “What are you doing here?”
“I have come to save you!” I replied.
“Indeed?” The mage tugged reflectively at his beard. “I am a little hazy on exactly where I am. However, your mission sounds like a laudable goal, at the very least.”
Snarks tugged at my shirt. “How did you know?”
“Indeed,” I answered. “Once you had alerted me to Death’s initial deception, it was simplicity itself. Until a moment ago, the magician in the cage had been too still, too silent. In short, he had not acted at all like my master. It was another of Death’s ploys, designed, I am sure, like the wild-pig squeals during the first contest, to hurt us through surprise.”
“You are too clever for me, Eternal Apprentice!” Death hissed, “but it will not matter, for our last battle is not one of wits, but of wills.”
The specter stepped even closer to me. “Gaze into my eyes, you who are called Wuntvor—in this life. For our last test shall be a staring contest! It is simplicity itself—whoever looks away first, loses. And the contest begins now!”
I looked up and found myself gazing into the twin eye sockets of Death, two pools of blackness so deep that you might fall into them forever. I wanted to look away, before I lost my soul somewhere in those deep recesses. But I could not, no matter how my instincts screamed for escape for, the moment my gaze shifted, then truly would I be lost for eternity. I was forced to gaze into the void, deeper and deeper into a darkness that was never-ending. And, somehow, I had to stare into Death’s gaze long enough to overcome this supernatural being. I had to do it for my soul, for my companions, for my master!
“Stare,” Death prompted with a laugh, the sound of small beetles roasting to death beneath the desert sun. “Stare deep, Eternal Apprentice.”
I was surrounded by blackness, a total absence of light that went on forever, before me and to either side and, I was sure, behind me as well. I was surrounded by Death’s darkness. I felt panic rise within me. What was happening? Was I trapped within the specter’s stare? Would I be lost in it as well?
Then Death spoke again:
“Stare forever, Eternal Apprentice.”
And its voice broke the spell. For why did Death want me? Because I was the Eternal Apprentice? And did not Death desire my soul because it had been—until this moment—forever beyond the specter’s grasp? Death was not my master! In a way, if what the specter said about me was true, we were equals, the fiend always taking life, while I returned to it over and over again. And if we were equals, there was no reason to panic, no reason, indeed, to doubt that I might be able to win this contest.
“Indeed,” I replied to the specter, and as soon as I had spoken, my perspective changed, and I was no longer lost deep within the fiend’s gaze, but was instead staring once again at the skull-face of Death.
The specter’s never-ending smile twitched unpleasantly.
“You fight me, apprentice. Don’t you know that you have already lost? Don’t you know that, sooner or later, everybody loses to Death?”
This time, I laughed. Death had tried to intimidate me with the force of its presence. Well, perhaps two could travel that road.
“Is that so?” I answered. “Then how do you explain my existence?”
“Then you admit it!” Death screamed triumphantly. “You admit you are the Eternal Apprentice! Oh, how sweet the victory will be, now that I know you are truly the one I seek!”
Oh, dear, I thought. This was not necessarily the result I was looking for. Death’s smile reasserted itself, as if the specter was ready now to squander even the last ounce of its energy to defeat me.
“You will look away, Eternal Apprentice,” Death whispered, “and you will lose.”
It was then that I heard the ghosts. Faintly at first, but stronger with every passing second—the clank of armor, the shouts of men, the tread of mailed boots across packed earth. The noise grew louder still, until it was almost deafening. And it came from everywhere, as if we were being surrounded by an army that went on forever.
“Wuntvor!” Hubert called. “We are being attacked!”
“Indeed!” I yelled back at the dragon, for I could not look away. “You must hold them off, for the sake of my master, and all our souls!”
I heard the clank of ghostly swords and shields, but then I heard more: the roar and crackle of Hubert’s flame, the sharp thwack of Snarks’s staff, the near-silent blows of the Dealer and the rapidly dancing feet of the Brownie. They would keep my back and flanks safe from these marauding spirits. Together, my companions would hold them until we had won!
But even as I stared at those bottomless eye sockets before me, I could see other things moving in the corners of my vision. I realized then, with a grim certainty, that the ghosts were not content to merely attack my fellows, but were advancing around Death as well, a legion headed straight for me. I caught a glimpse of a spectral sword. Another of the haunted horde flashed a red dagger that I hoped was covered with ghostly blood.
Could I be harmed by ghosts? I feared the answer, and I would know all too soon, for they would be upon me in an instant. Still, they were not unstoppable. From what I heard, my fellows were taking care of any number of the ghostly warriors. But how could I fend them off without looking away from Death?
And then it occurred to me: Perhaps I could not, but my weapon could.
I drew my trusted sword.
“Eek!” Cuthbert shrieked. “What’s going on here? This doesn’t look at all good! Listen! I take back what I said about getting out of my scabbard from time to—“
“Indeed,” I said, interrupting the sword’s hysteria. “I am sorry, but you must fight, perhaps harder than you ever have before.”
“This is sounding worse with every passing minute!” Cuthbert complained. “Don’t I have any say in this matter?”
“Indeed,” I answered. “You could completely refuse to do my bidding.”
“Really?” the sword replied, calming a bit. “Say, that’s awfully nice of you.”
“Of course,” I continued, “then I would most likely be murdered by these marauding ghosts.”
“Gee,” Cuthbert remarked uncertainly. “Do you mink so?”
“I can’t see it going any other way.” I paused for a second, then mused, “Of course, there’s nothing for you to worry about. No matter what happens to me, there’s no chance at all of you being abandoned. The moment I am dead, I’m sure the Dealer will scoop you up and get to work.”
“The Dealer? You mean old hack-and-slash?” the sword asked distastefully. “Do you really think so?”
“Well,” I replied, “look at it this way: Who’s going to stop him?”
“Oh—er—who ever said I didn’t want to fight? I’m your sword forever!” Cuthbert cheered. “Onward, into the fray!”
The sword had made its decision not a moment too soon, for the fray, as it were, was coming to us, the legion of ghosts moaning forward to the attack.
“You have to defend yourself, Eternal Apprentice,” Death leered. “You have to look away!”
I laughed with a bravado that I almost felt, for Cuthbert guided my hand as I continued to stare deep within Death’s dark orbs. I heard the ghostly clang of my sword against whatever it was it fought.
“I think not,” I answered the specter. “It takes more than a few pitiful ghosts to defeat the likes of me!”
“Few?” Death sputtered. “Pitiful?” The specter almost glanced away to look at its legions. Almost, but not quite. For the first time, I realized I had a real chance of defeating this creature. The Dealer had said Death had a problem with me. Perhaps I could make that problem the specter’s undoing.
“Hah!” my sword cried triumphantly. “Got you!”
I heard another sound, half slice, half gush, like an axe cutting through week-old snow.
“Oh, no!” Cuthbert moaned. “There is something worse than ichor! Ectoplasm!”
“I’ve gone altogether too easy on you, so far!” Death screamed at me, far more overwrought than the situation warranted. “We’ll see how eternal you are, after you’ve faced my berserker legion!”
“Berserker legion?” Cuthbert asked uncertainly. “I do not like the sound of that!”
I didn’t like the sound of what came next, either, for the ghostly moaning about us rose, becoming an unearthly shriek that seemed to have no end.
“Good,” the Dealer stated calmly from somewhere nearby. “At last I will have a challenge.”
“Look at these guys!” Snarks wailed, and for once, I was glad I could not.
The shrieking was joined by a rhythmic clanking, as if spectral swords clanged against ghostly shields, first ten, then a hundred, then five hundred strong.
“I think it’s time for reinforcements!” Snarks screamed.
“Do you mean—“ I called back.
“Plaugg!” Snarks replied. “O most unexceptional of deities, we beseech you! We need your barely tolerable aid, and we need it now!”
There was nothing for a moment, but then there was a voice, very faint but somehow still clearly understandable despite the wailing ghosts.
“I hear you, my worshipper.”
“Oh, Your Adequateness!” Snarks yelled. “We need you here at once!”
“Oh, dear,” the deity’s faint voice replied. “How can I put this? You see”—Plaugg coughed distantly—“I’m afraid that is impossible.”
“Impossible?” the demon wailed. “But why, Your Pretty-Goodness?”
“The driver refuses to go on that route again,” Plaugg explained, his voice fainter with every word. “Something about a bus full of insulting travelers—“
And then Plaugg’s voice was gone.
“Oh, no,” Snarks murmured. “Have I doomed us all?”
But I could not believe this was the end. I was so close to saving my master. There had to be a way!
“Wuntvor!” a voice called to me above the ghostly chaos. My master’s voice!
“Indeed?” I called back, my eyes still fixed on the specter.
“If you allow Death to attack you over and over again, you will lose!” the wizard exclaimed. “You must form a counterattack!”
“Silence, pitiful mage!” Death barked. “You are still under my control!”
“Is he?” I shot back at the specter. “I do not think he will be for long.”
For a thought had occurred to me. My master had said we needed a weapon for a counterattack. But what better weapon was there than my master, the great wizard Ebenezum?
At first, I thought our magic was useless in Death’s domain. But Snarks had somehow managed to call Plaugg. And the Brownie seemed to be holding his own against the ghostly warriors, for I was sure, could I but turn my head, that I would see shoes raining from nowhere upon our enemy. Therefore, Brownie magic worked here. And who had told us that it wouldn’t? Not Ebenezum, but Death, disguised as the wizard.
Ah, but that specter was clever. And I had to be more clever still, if the Eternal Apprentice was to win the day.
“Snarks!” I called to the demon. “I need your help!”
“I’ve been—telling you that—ever since we’ve met!” Snarks yelled back between blows of his stout oak staff.
“Indeed,” I answered. “I need you to get something out of my pack.”
“I’d be—glad to,” Snarks replied. “Soon as I—can get away.”
“Tap! Hubert! Dealer!” I called to the others. “I need your aid as well. You must form a semicircle behind me, to protect Snarks while he does my bidding.”
“Brownie Power to the rescue!” Tap announced.
Hubert assured me: “My most dramatic flame is in your service.”
“I find any strategic move fascinating,” the Dealer added.
“Okay, boss man!” Snarks interjected. “The demon wit is at your service!”
Look inside my pack,” I instructed him. “There you will find a book—a Home Study Course.”
I heard a rustling at my back.
“Eep! Eep eep eep!”
Snarks yelped. “Can’t you do something about that ferret?”
“Sorry,” I apologized. “But my guess is that the ferret can take care of itself.”
“A ferret?” Death screamed his distaste. “You dare to bring a ferret into this battle?”
The specter wavered, almost looking away again. If I made him nervous, my ferrets made him doubly so.
“Magic for the Millions?” Snarks read as he retrieved the book.
“That’s the one,” I assured him. “Now, look in the back, under multiplication spells.”
I heard the sound of pages turning.
“Don’t you dare let that ferret get near me!” Death warned. But the specter calmed itself as soon as it spoke. “But what am I saying? I am Death. And Death always wins.” The fiend chuckled aridly. “No mere ferret can save you now!”
“Multiplication spells?” Snarks mused. “Oh, there’s a lot of them. In fact, there may be a few too many! Would you mind telling me what you’d like to multiply?”
“Shoes,” I replied. “At least at first.”
The Brownie cheered as Snarks asked if I was kidding.
“Indeed, no,” I replied. “We need to quickly reproduce something to keep these ghosts away. Thanks to the Brownie, we already have a rain of footwear. Why not increase it?”
“And do it soon, would you?” Cuthbert pleaded. “The ghosts are everywhere. There’s a whole lot of cutting going on here.”
“I think a general multiplication spell is best,” I further informed the demon, “for we will have to use it on something else later.”
“One general spell coming up!” I once again heard Snarks flipping pages.
“Blechh! Blechh! Bllecchh!” the sword screamed. “Ectoplasm is cold! Ectoplasm is slimy! Ectoplasm is everywhere!”
“Ah, here we go!” the demon said triumphantly. “A multiplication spell, short and simple. How do you want to do it?”
“Indeed,” I answered, careful to keep my gaze locked on that of Death while my sword hand leaped about under Cuthbert’s guidance. “I fear that spell casting is beyond me at the moment. I’m afraid that the honor of making magic must pass to you.”
“Me?” Snarks squealed in disbelief. “But I’m a demon. Wizards are supposed to cast spells on demons, not the other way around. I mean, there are certain proprieties—“
“And if we follow them, we shall be killed,” I interrupted. “Still, I can see your point. I suppose if a demon isn’t good enough to perform magic—“
“N-not good enough—I never said anything of the kind!” Snarks retorted. “Demons may come from the bottom, but they rate way on top! I will perform magic that will put Brownie Power to shame! Now, if the rest of you will look the other way, while I make a fool of myself trying to get this spell to work—“
The rest of us were too busy fighting off our ghosts to reply.
“You make such foolish plans,” Death chuckled. “Why not surrender now, before I make you look ridiculous throughout eternity?”
“Indeed,” I said sharply as I heard Snarks shuffling through the spell behind me. “The Eternal Apprentice is free to be ridiculous anytime he chooses! If I have my way, you will never have any control over that!”
Snarks called out strings of arcane words while clapping his hands and whistling. He hooted like an owl three times, yelled loudly and did something complicated with his feet upon the packed ground.
“The shoes!” Tap called. “The shoes are coming!”
A chorus of ghostly cries rose around us. I heard an “Ouch!” here, a “Yelp!” there, an “Oh, no, not high heels!” somewhere else.
“They are falling back!” the Dealer announced. “Your plan worked.”
“Of course it did,” Snarks agreed. “Wasn’t there a demon involved—ow!”
I felt it, too. The shoes were not only falling on the ghosts. Now they were dropping on us as well. It began as an occasional soft-soled sandal, but I could hear boots dropping in my vicinity. Soon, the rain of shoes would make us helpless as well.
There was only one person I knew that could stop this sort of thing. Now that the ghosts had retreated, it was time to free him.
“Hubert!” I shouted over the ever-increasing thump-thump-thump of cascading footwear. “Dealer! We have to get Ebenezum out of this cage!”
Death laughed, still only flinching slightly beneath the shoe rain.
“Free your master? Whatever makes you think I will allow that?”
“You will have no choice!” I replied. “Snarks, now that you have mastered the spell to multiply shoes, it is time to turn it to other purposes. It is time to multiply ferrets!”
“Ferrets?” Snarks quavered. “He wanted me, a demon, to cast a spell. Well, I’m adaptable, especially in situations of life and death. And then he wanted the spell to produce shoes! Now, now, I calmed myself, it is life and death, after all, and it will probably be the most distasteful task you ever will have to perform. I mean, what could be worse than shoes? And then he tells me!” The demon choked, the next word lodged in his throat. “F-f-ferrets!”
This was too much. There was no longer any time for Snarks’s objections. But could I trust the shoes to continue to keep the ghosts at bay? Careful not to take my eyes away from Death, I ran quickly to the demon’s side. There was but one thing to do.
“Here,” I said, handing the demon my sword.
“Huh?” Snarks replied.
“What?” Cuthbert yelped.
“If you don’t want to cast, you’ve got to cut!” I answered the demon. “Now, quickly, repeat the spell to me, and I shall perform it!”
“What?” Cuthbert yelped again.
I managed to pat the sword’s hilt as I finally released it into the demon’s grip. “Now, now,” I said reassuringly for Cuthbert’s benefit. “You’ll just keep on doing that fine job.” My now free hand waved absently in the direction of the Dealer of Death. “Unless, of course, you’d rather I gave you to somebody else.”
“I’m cutting!” Cuthbert shrieked. “I’m cutting!”
“Indeed,” I murmured. “Now, Snarks, repeat the directions for the spell.”
“Do I have to?” the demon whined.
“You could cast it yourself,” I suggested.
“You convinced me,” Snarks said. “You want me to start now?”
“In a moment,” I replied, making sure that my gaze was firmly interlocked with that of Death. I had managed for some time to meet the specter’s stare, and, apart from a slight watering in the corners of my eyes, was none the worse for wear. If I could simply concentrate on the spell while continuing to stare at Death, I could not help but succeed. And what problems could I have? Snarks, a rank beginner at the art of magic, had managed the multiplication spell to perfection. It should therefore be no problem at all for one with my experience. So why was I worried? Nothing could stop us now!
I took a deep breath.
“Begin.”
“If that’s the way you want it,” Snarks agreed, and began to relay the spell to me.
“You will not stop me with your ferrets!” Death screamed, although there seemed to be a bit of panic in the specter’s tone.
I told Snarks to ignore the fiend. In turn, the demon told me to clap, and I clapped. He told me to whistle, and I whistled. He told me to give three owl hoots, and I did that as well.
“Uh-oh,” Snarks mumbled mid-spell. “Here come the ghosts.”
“One ferret or a hundred ferrets!” Death proclaimed, cheered by its advancing army. “It makes no difference. I will not be stopped by those small, insignificant creatures, no matter how lively they may be.” Still, if the specter was so sure of itself, why did its voice crack?
“Now here—comes the—difficult part,” Snarks managed, fending off renewed attacks from the ghostly horde. “You must step left, jump, shuffle, step right, shuffle and jump. Quickly now!”
I did as the demon instructed, stepping, then jumping.
“It will never work, Eternal Apprentice,” Death insisted. “I no longer feel any fear of your little helpers!”
Perhaps it was Death’s repeated taunts that unnerved me. Or perhaps it was merely trying to concentrate simultaneously on Death’s stare and my dancing feet. Whatever, when I attempted my second shuffle, I slipped and almost fell, barely managing to keep my gaze locked with that of the specter. It was more difficult than I realized to shuffle when you could not glance at your feet. But I had to finish the spell, and trust that my slight misstep would not change the outcome.
I stepped and jumped and shuffled. Come, ferrets! I thought. Perhaps they would not turn the tide for good, as Death had claimed, but at the very least they would distract the specter long enough for me to think of something else.
“Eep!” my ferret cried. I took the small animal’s cry as a good sign. The spell must be working.
“Snarks!” I called. “Are the ferrets multiplying?”
“Eep!” The ferret screamed somewhat more insistently.
“Well,” Snarks admitted, an odd tone to his voice, “not exactly.”
And at that moment, the ground I stood upon was shaken by a thunderous cry:
“EEEP!”
“What?” Death whispered. “It cannot be!”
“EEEP!” the deafening sound came again, whatever made it saying, “Yes, it very well can be.”
“No, not that large,” Death groaned. “I could deal with anything—anything but something like that—anything but a fifty-foot ferret!”
And then the ground shook of its own accord. The ferret was coming.
“EEEP!”
“No,” Death whispered. “I won’t allow it! Not in my kingdom!”
It was too much for the specter, too much eeping life for it to even comprehend. It hugged its robes close by its sides, trying to shrink away from the approaching behemoth, the stupendous gray form moving inexorably toward it through the falling shoes.
“No!” Death shrieked. “Anything but that ferret!”
And then a great, furry shadow fell across the specter.
“EEEP!”
Death shrieked, looking up and away, searching for some escape from the rapidly descending ferret.
Death had looked away. I had won.
“Indeed,” Ebenezum remarked from close by my side. “This might be a good time for a change of scene.”
“Very well. If I must, I will fully explain everything. Let me begin with a demonstration. What am I doing? Only a very simple spell of forgetfulness. What spell of forgetfulness, you ask? Does anyone remember what I was talking about? What are you all doing here, anyways?”
Ebenezum’s final comments on Wizardgate, whatever that was
“Indeed, yes,” I replied. “Do you have any idea how we might leave?”
“No problem at all,” my master assured me. “This sojourn in the Kingdom of Death seems to have completely cured my malady. My guess is that, in a place like this, one goes beyond sneezing.”
“You’re not going anywhere!” Death screamed hysterically as it rapidly retreated. “I’ll deal with you, as soon as I’m finished with this—animal!”
“I’m afraid not,” I replied to the specter as my master assumed standard conjuring position. “After all, I won.”
“Won?” Death hyperventilated, upset perhaps by how easily the huge ferret galloped after it. “Well, I suppose you did, technically. However, I’m quite certain ferrets are against the rules!”
“Rules?” Snarks asked. “What rules?”
“Indeed,” Ebenezum interrupted. “If you fellows would gather around me, we’ll be leaving now.”
“All right, so you’ve won!” Death screamed as it ran from the monstrous rodent. “Enjoy the rest of your lives, as pitifully short as they will be! I’ll be seeing you!”
“Indeed,” I replied. “Will you?”
The specter’s unearthly shriek was caught short by my master’s spell.
All was darkness, then all was light.
I opened my eyes when someone said “Doom.” We were back in Vushta, surrounded by wizards and companions. The wizards, as usual, were sneezing.
“Over?” Cuthbert shrieked, still a bit hysterical. “It’s really over?” The sword whistled with relief. “Say, would anybody know anything about getting rid of dried ectoplasm stains?”
“Later,” I said to the sword as I reclaimed and resheathed it.
“Indeed,” Ebenezum called to the others. “Were you expecting us?”
“Doom, no,” Hendrek answered. “We were expecting what you landed on top of.”
“EEEP!” the fifty-foot ferret who had returned with us remarked.
“What? Who?” an old woman’s voice called from beneath the great furry mass. “What is all this? Where am I?”
A gray head popped up behind the huge ferret’s form. It was Mother Duck. She frowned.
“This looks an awful lot like Vushta. Why would I come to Vushta?”
Nobody answered her, save for those few wizards still sneezing.
“Smelly place,” Mother Duck grumped. “Noisy, too. It’s no wonder everybody has a cold. Does anyone know the way to the Eastern Kingdoms?”
Everyone who was capable of it pointed east.
“What am I doing, wandering around like this? I hope I’m not getting too old. And Vushtal” She made a face. “Next thing you know, ‘I’ll wind up straying into those dreadful Western Kingdoms.” She waved vaguely at the crowd around her. “Excuse me, but there’s no place like home.” And with that, she wandered back in the general direction of her domain.
“Doom,” Hendrek remarked when the old lady had passed out of sight. “She was about to attack us, and make Vushta part of her kingdom.”
“Then,” Norei added from Hendrek’s side, “as she was calling forth all the sorcery at her command, you showed up.”
“Indeed?” Ebenezum replied. “It’s no wonder, then. Instead of the sorceries she desired, she was overcome by an enchanted ferret. And what an enchanted ferret! An overload of that sort would undo anyone in the magical arts.”
“Oops!” Richard the giant added in wonder. “So she’s gone?”
“It would appear so,” the wizard agreed.
The Seven Other Dwarves cheered along.
“Hi nun, hi hun, Then that must mean we’ve won!”
“That’s right!” Tap pulled at my pants leg. “That means His Brownieship is bound to take me back! Doesn’t it?”
“Indeed,” my master answered. “At least Mother Duck is no longer a threat. But what of the Netherhells?”
I took a moment to explain what Mother Duck had done to the demon’s Conquest by Committee.
“Really?” the wizard replied, a certain admiration in his voice. “Then perhaps we will have a chance to fix the damage done to Vushta before the Netherhells can regroup.”
A gruff voice came from the crowd, accompanied by Rapid drumbeats.
“Interject!”
The former Grand Hoohah stepped forward. Brax die salesdemon was only half a pace behind.
“Guxx Unfufadoo, relieved demon, Glad he is that you’ve defeated Mother Duck, and says those demons Down below are ripe for conquest!”
“That’s right!” Brax added. “Guxx and I are going back to the Netherhells to take over again!”
“Doom,” Hendrek remarked. “All by yourselves?” “Contradict!” Guxx exclaimed. Brax beat his rhythm.
“Guxx Unfufadoo, vengeful demon, Has the claws so right for tearing; Has the muscles strong for rending; Thinks that these will do quite nicely!”
No one disagreed with the demon, who only sneezed slightly at his rhyme.
“So I guess we’ll be on our way!” Brax called to the rest of us. “Now there’s one thing I want you all to consider carefully: This is your last chance to buy a really high-quality used weapon, just in case, shall we say, that we end up on opposite sides.”
There were no takers here, either.
“Conquer!” Guxx announced. He marched off with Brax beating the drum behind him.
“Indeed,” Ebenezum mused with a tug of his beard. ‘ “Things seem simpler hereabouts since the last time I was in the neighborhood. Perhaps now we can get around to curing the wizards.”
“And get everything back to normal?” I asked.
“Yes, Wuntvor,” Norei said as she approached me. “I’m glad to have you back.”
“So everything’s all right?” Hubert cheered, releasing a substantial quantity of smoke. “Alea! Let’s do a snappy musical number in celebration.”
The damsel stepped forward from the crowd, but she was frowning. “Musical number? Look, Hubie, I’ve been meaning to talk to you in private—“ her voice died, her hands fluttering at her sides. She paused, then sighed. “Well, I suppose I could do it, if it’s okay with my new partner.”
“New partner?” the dragon yelped in astonishment.
The damsel looked down at her dancing-slippered feet. “Well, you know, you were gone for an awful long time. And I wasn’t sure you were ever coming back. I mean, a girl’s got to eat!”
“But Alea!” Hubert protested. “Who could take the place of a dragon?”
“Oops,” Richard commented.
Alea smiled encouragingly up at the giant. “Take it, Richard! Let’s show them our stuff!”
And the giant and Alea sang together:
“Hey, we’ve got something You can really dig; When we do a big show, It’s really big! All of Vushta is in a whirl For a giant and a girl!”
Alea pirouetted prettily as Richard stomped half a dozen foothills behind her.
“I thought Damsel and Dragon was as bad as this sort of thing could get,” Snarks whispered. “I was wrong.”
“Doom,” Hendrek agreed in an equally hushed tone, glancing up at the rampaging giant. “But who’s going to criticize them?”
Snorphosio the wizard ran into our midst.
“The Dealer of Death!” he cried with uncharacteristic abruptness. “He has revived!”
And the Dealer was right behind him. The well-muscled assassin smiled.
“Not only revived,” he murmured pleasantly, “but ready to strangle. Show me those wild pigs!”
“How could she?” Hubert moaned overhead. “I do admit their act has a certain novelty value when considered on a very large scale, but still, what’s a dragon to do?”
A furry fellow in a green hat tugged at the dragon’s tail. “I say, big guy. Have you ever considered how unique your act might be with the assistance of a talented talking wolf?”
And I heard another, magnificently modulated voice from the rear of the crowd:
“My lap has returned.” The unicorn sighed musically. “I am content.”
“And Wuntie?” Alea fluttered her eyelashes prettily. “When you have a chance, we have all sorts of catching up to do!”
Norei squeezed my arm, somehow managing to drag me in her direction. “I guess you are right, Wuntvor. Everything is back to normal.”
“Indeed,” my master added, “and we must get back to work.”
Arm in arm, Norei and I followed my master, the great wizard Ebenezum, back toward the university library. The sun was bright overhead, and the air had the crisp edge of early fall. I felt a spring in my step, brought about by being back among those whom I loved best, and on the verge of solving all our problems.
“EEEP!” the fifty-foot-high ferret called as it happily trundled after us.
I squeezed Morel’s hand. I mean, what could possibly go wrong now?