Wizards encounter periods of crisis from time to time. It comes with the job, right along with the robes and the pointy hat. Now, some wizards thrive on crisis, and there is quite a bit of gold to be made, should the magician survive, by thrusting oneself into the thick of things. The more experienced mage, however, makes ample use of soothsaying spells, so that he may collect the monies, reassure the populace, and still have time to leave the area before the thick of things arrives.
— THE TEACHINGS OF EBENEZUM,
VOLUME IV
The shoe spoke to me.
“Wuntvor! “Tis I!”
It was my master’s voice! My first thought was that the Brownie had somehow transformed my master into a giant shoe. After a moment, I regained my wits, however, and realized that the shoe had been built large enough to house Ebenezum. And now he was here, by my side, in the midst of all this magic, and he was not sneezing!
“Master! “I cried joyfully. “You are cured!”
“In a manner of speaking,” Ebenezum replied dryly. “ ‘Tis only a matter of my spending the rest of my life inside a shoe.”
“But how did you get here?” I asked.
“Through Brownie magic, apparently. It all started when our Brownie showed up at the shack where I was resting. He’d brought this other little fellow along that he kept calling ‘Your Brownieship’—” The wizard paused. “But what’s going on here? It’s hard for me to see through the buttonholes.”
“Well, this is a convention of mythological beasts,” I began hastily. “And they wanted me to contact another wizard, or they were going to eat me, and—”
“Who dares to disturb the first regularly scheduled meeting of the Association for the Advancement of Mythical and Imaginary Beasts and Creatures?” the Griffin interrupted with a roar. “A talking shoe?”
“Careful, Pop,” the Hippogriff chided. “He may be eligible for membership.”
The Brownie walked up to me, all smiles.
“Is this a wish or what?” he said proudly. “We Brownies are new to this game, but once we get going—”
“Would an enchanted shoe be mythological?” The Griffin glared at its offspring. “I’ll have to check the bylaws.”
The leader of the beasts coughed and turned to us. “One thing I do know, however. Fairies are definitely not welcome at our gatherings!’’
“Fairies!” the Brownie cried. “Fairies! Could a Fairy do this?”
The little fellow closed his eyes and shuffled his feet.
The shoe floated in the air for a minute, then returned to the stage with a resounding crash.
“Indeed,” the wizard’s voice came from deep within the leather. “If I might make a suggestion—”
“Little enough magic! A Griffin could move that shoe with even less effort!”
“Please,” the wizard began again. “If you might just hear me out—”
The Griffin’s tail slithered under the shoe, tossing it two feet in the air. It fell to the stage with an even louder crash.
“Enough!” the wizard called from within. A single, dark-robed hand emerged from inside the shoe leather. A lightning bolt shot down from the sky, searing the space midway between Griffin and Brownie.
“Oh wow!” the Hippogriff exclaimed. “Yes, I think the enchanted shoe has an excellent case for immediate membership.”
“If you will listen to me now?” Ebenezum’s muffled voice remarked.
“Listen up!” the Hippogriff shouted. “The enchanted shoe has the floor!”
“Very well. First, let me say that this little fellow here is not a Fairy at all. He is, rather, very much a Brownie.”
“Really?” the Hippogriff interjected. “You know, Brownies could be eligible for membership, too.”
The Brownie thanked my master.
“Don’t mention it. . . Indeed, ‘twas the least I could do. Second, I am more than what I seem. Rather than being an enchanted shoe, I am a wizard in disguise!”
The crowd roared in surprise.
“I see.” The Griffin had gotten over its shock at almost being singed, and had stepped forward to once again take control. “It’s a shame, really. An enchanted shoe would have made such a colorful member. But Brownies now, there’s an awful lot of you, aren’t there? You know, of course, that there’s an entrance fee. And then there’re the annual dues. But, what a membership can do for you!”
“Your pardon,” the wizard said. “I am not done speaking.”
Everyone was silent. I marveled at what a lightning bolt could do for crowd control.
“I am a great wizard,” Ebenezum said, “called by my compatriot here to—” My master paused. I had not been able to tell him any more of my plight! “—to do whatever I have been called here to do!” he finished majestically. Somehow, coming from his mouth, the words all made sense.
“Doom!” A voice carried from the edge of the silent crowd.
The Griffin ignored it. “So this fellow really is a wizard after all? I tell you, they must have simplified the entrance exam since I was a hatchling.” The beast paused, glanced at the sky, and flapped its wings defensively. “Sorry! Just voicing my opinion. I’m sure I know as little about wizards as wizards know about Griffins!”
Ebenezum’s hand emerged from the shoe again.
“Not to say that wizards lack knowledge—”
“Pop!” the Hippogriff whispered. “Get a hold of yourself! We’re supposed to tell the wizards our demands!”
The wizard’s hand felt about for another buttonhole and extracted a cloth from it. The hand disappeared within the shoe again. I heard the faint sound of a nose being blown.
“I know exactly what I’m doing!” the Griffin snapped. “That’s the problem with youngsters today. No sense of diplomacy. And the things they bring home to clutter the nest. And their taste in music! You know what this teenager likes? Madrigals!” The Griffin groaned in agony. “Give me a good old Gregorian chant any day!”
The Griffin walked over to the shoe and stared straight into a buttonhole. “But let’s put that aside. We all want to work together. Let me show you our list of seventy-three proposals. Of special interest is our suggestion for a joint wizard and mythological beast steering committee. Of course, we’ll need to receive some modest funds to get it going. Think of it as an act of good faith on the part of wizards everywhere.”
The Griffin paused and looked out to the crowd. There was quite a commotion in the middle of the audience. I made out an occasional “Doom!” amid the hubbub.
“Look here!” called a voice so grating that it only could be Snarks. “No one’s eating anybody else here. And no animal with the head of a chicken is going to tell me anything!”
The noise rose considerably. I thought I heard sounds of genuine conflict.
“Indeed,” said the wizard within his shoe. “Do you think your fellow creatures could stop molesting the newcomers? I would like to see those two up here with us.” A hand emerged casually from the shoe, as if to test the temperature of the air.
“Most certainly!” The Griffin laughed its barking laugh, as if this were all great fun among old cronies, then turned and gave instructions to the crowd to let the strangers pass.
“Doom,” Hendrek said when he arrived on the stage. “We have come to save you.”
Snarks peered at the Griffin. “Look here! Another creature with a chicken head!”
The Griffin was speechless. Its tail whipped about as if it were looking for something to strangle. Snarks, for the moment at least, was standing out of reach.
“You know,” Snarks went on, “I’ve noticed that a lot of the creatures around here have an attitude problem.” He paused to survey the crowd. “Well, I suppose when you look like you’ve been put together from spare parts in somebody’s tool shed, there’s bound to be difficulty. Still, if I had a brief talk with them, I’m sure I could straighten them out. I have Netherhells experience, you know!”
“If you were not under the protection of a wizard—” The Griffin became too choked with emotion to continue.
“And the wizard’s under my protection as well,” Snarks added happily. “For I can see the truth, wherever it may hide. There seems to be little enough of it around here at the moment.”
“Doom.” Hendrek moved to Snarks’s side. Head-basher swung free in the large warrior’s hand.
The truth-telling demon waved at the warrior. “Never fear, friend Hendrek. We have the upper hand here. Compared to all these creatures, you look positively normal!”
“So what do we do now?” Hendrek turned to me. “We have come to rescue you from fiends unknown.”
“Wait a sec,” the Hippogriff cut in. “Rescue him from what? I’ll have you know that this is the first annual meeting of a very important new bestiary interest group!”
“Like the man said,” Snarks chimed in, “we’ve come to rescue you from fiends unknown.” The demon looked down at the crowd of mythological animals, who seemed to be growing more and more restive as the drama played itself out onstage. “And not a moment too soon, either!”
“Excuse me,” the wizard intoned from his leathery depths. “While I am sure we could go on exchanging pleasantries all day, there are matters we must attend to. Let us finish our business here quickly and be on our way.”
“Certainly.” The Griffin ruffled its feathers in an attempt to regain composure. “We mythological animals don’t ask for much. We only want to gain the stature in society that rightfully belongs to us. It will be so easy! We’ve made up some tapestry design guidelines that will revolutionize the industry. And I think we’ve been more than reasonable in our maiden-allotment quotas.”
“Indeed,” the wizard said. “And exactly what is it that you want wizards to do?”
“Why, the same things wizards always do! Make things happen.” The Griffin sidled even closer to the shoe. “Listen, we’re not fooled by traditional power structures. After all, we’re mythological. That, to say the least, gives one a unique perspective. We know, with all the kings and mayors and knights and town councilmen around, things only get done when a wizard steps in. In fact, the higher the king/mayor/knight/town councilman to wizard ratio in a certain area, the longer it takes anyone to do anything!” The beast’s voice dropped to a whisper. “Besides that, there also seems to be a lot of money around wizards.”
The Griffin paused, but the shoe made no reply.
“All right. So we want to talk business. It is not enough that all but a few haughty mythological beasts have joined together to make a statement of purpose. We need wizards to spread the word. Other humans listen to wizards. They know that if they don’t, bad things just might happen to them. And that’s just the kind of spokespeople my organization needs!”
“Then you’re speaking of a cooperative agreement?” I thought I noted some interest in Ebenezum’s muffled voice.
“Well, eventually, there will be money involved,” the Griffin continued. “It’s all part of our seventy-two demands, which I’m sure you’ll enjoy reading when you have the time. Why, I imagine the tapestry royalties alone will net us a small fortune—”
“Indeed. You used the word ‘eventually.’ Say wizards do spread the word? What is the working wizard to do for ready cash until that ‘eventually’ comes about?”
“An old, established order such as the wizards—” The Griffin paused ominously, doing its best to glare at the shoe. I saw for the first time how my master’s leather covering might enhance his bargaining power. The Griffin took a deep breath. “The least wizards can do is make a voluntary contribution as a sign of good will!”
“No,” Ebenezum said slowly. “I think not.”
The Griffin roared. “No one ever says no to us! We are fearsome mythological beasts!”
“That is true,” Ebenezum replied. “And I am a wizard.”
My chest swelled with pride at my master’s bargaining skill. The beasts were no match for him, even while he was trapped in a shoe. As his apprentice, I knew that there were many truths about my master, but one was truer than all the rest:
No one fights Ebenezum over money matters and wins.
“What say, guys?” Snarks’s voice filled the ominous silence. “Let’s blow this zoo and get back on our way to Vushta. If we stick around here much longer, we’re bound to get fleas!”
The Griffin screamed in rage. The Hippogriff, somewhat more mildly, remarked: “Mythological animals never have fleas.”
“Not even mythological fleas?” Snarks rejoined. “What’s the matter, you not good enough for them? Come to think of it, from the way you look, I’d hate to imagine how you taste. Ugh. It’s enough to put a demon off his lunch. And you should see what demons eat!”
“Friend Snarks,” I cut in, “perhaps it is time to resume our journey as you—”
The Griffin leapt to where Snarks had been standing only seconds before. The beast’s claws shredded the floorboards.
“Not only ugly, but slow,” Snarks added. “If you’re going to leap after me, you should lean back more on your haunches, you know. It’ll give you more spring. And if you’d extend your claws the teeniest bit—”
The Griffin lunged again, overshooting the demon and flying completely off the stage.
I turned to the wizard. “Master? What are we going to do?”
“Hey, is it time for another Brownie wish?”
The little fellow stood by my foot. In all the excitement, I had completely forgotten him.
“Yeah, you’ll have to excuse me,” the Brownie continued. “I’ve just been standing here, admiring my handiwork. Here before us, the living embodiment of Brownie Power, and the first of what I am sure will be several successful wishes in my career. My only problem now is how do I top this?”
“Perhaps,” the wizard said from deep within the shoe, “you can find some way to get this shoe and the rest of us out of this place.” The wizard’s sneeze was muffled by the shoe as well.
“No problem at all!” the Brownie said as Snarks went sailing by, the Griffin in pursuit. “Give me a moment to get my wits about me. I’m still new at this, only one wish under my belt. And, incidentally, I won’t be offended at all if anyone has any suggestions!”
He tapped on the shoe. “I did need some help before f from His Brownieship to move this thing around. Maybe we could all get together and carry you? Of course, you and the shoe would be pretty heavy. We might need you to come out, too, to help support the load. Well, that wouldn’t do, though, in the midst of all this magic, would it?” The Brownie fell to silent musing.
“You really shouldn’t take offense at what I say!” Snarks panted, obviously out of breath. “I am but voicing my humble opinion on the appearance of your following. I’m sure they’re dressed at the height of fashion for things made out of spare animal parts. And who are we to dictate fashion? Why, look at the warrior Hendrek, here. Did you ever see a more ugly belt than that checkered thing he’s wearing?”
All the color drained from Hendrek’s ruddy face.
“I have never worn a belt!” The warrior looked to his waist. “Doom!”
The belt slithered away from Hendrek’s waist and assumed standard demon form. It was Brax, in its demonic checkered suit.
The warrior swung Headbasher far over his helmeted head.
“Fiend!” he intoned. “Must you forever plague me?”
“Oh, come on now, Hendy baby.” The demon smiled broadly as it dodged the warrior’s wild swing. “What did I tell you about protecting my investment?”
The demon turned and looked out over the audience. “Hey there! I haven’t seen such a large group of potential customers in my entire career. What, you think being uniquely magical creatures will be enough to see you through the coming conflict? Don’t you believe it! You’re going to need all the help you can get.”
“Wait a moment!” the Griffin shouted. “Coming conflict? What coming conflict? We have an agreement with the Netherhells!”
“So you haven’t heard!” the smiling demon chortled as it ducked another blow from the warclub. “On the day of the Forxnagel, all contracts are null and void!”
“The Forxnagel!” Ebenezum cried from within his shoe.
That’s right! With all the excitement here, I had forgotten to tell my master what I had learned during my grackle spell.
“Wuntvor!” the wizard called.
I ran to his side and told him that Norei had confirmed this news.
“Indeed,” Ebenezum murmured. “And me trapped within a shoe! We will have to find a way to convey my new home from place to place, even if we must carry it all the way to Vushta! Ask if they have any carts about.”
“Carts?” the Hippogriff snorted. “What use have mythological beasts for carts when we have the wings of eagles and the hooves of stallions? Besides, I’m afraid we’ve never been very good at building wheels. It’s the lack of thumbs, you know.” The beast nodded toward its wings. “Guess you’re out of luck.”
“Yes, you’re all out of luck!” Brax the salesdemon cried. “But you might be able to extend your freedom, and perhaps even your miserable lives, for hours or perhaps even days if you own one of my enchanted weapons!”
“Doom,” Hendrek muttered in my ear. “Extend our miserable lives? This new twist to the demon’s sales talk does not bode well.”
Brax indicated the larger warrior with a wave and a hop. “Just look at this satisfied customer! Why, if he does not fulfill his contract with the Netherhells now, he will complete it gladly, after we have won!”
“Doom!”
Headbasher went crashing through the stage.
“What a weapon!” Brax shook its head in admiration.
“It can’t be,” the Griffin repeated. “We have an understanding with the Netherhells.”
“Griffins sometimes get set in their ways,” the Hippogriff confided.
“Understandable,” Snarks cried as he ran past. “It takes the beast so long to keep its body parts straight, it doesn’t have time to think of anything else.”
Snarks ran. The Griffin roared. Brax sold. Head-basher crashed. And my master sneezed again.
The situation had been merely out of hand before. Now it had degenerated into something completely beyond human comprehension. The shoe had seemed to shield my master up to a point. However, there was such a sorcerous overload hereabouts that even the Brownie’s protection could not hold it back for long.
The world was falling apart around us. We had to escape. I only prayed we could reach Vushta in time.
But how could we carry my master?
My eyes wandered to the pen at the side of the stage.
The pen that contained the unicorn. That overmuscled beast had helped to get us into this situation. Perhaps it could help us out of it as well.
“What a mess!” the unicorn cried as I approached. In all the tumult, no one had even noticed my leaving the stage. “What do they want me here for? I’m supposed to be out frolicking through verdant fields!”
I knew exactly what they wanted the unicorn for. One look at this creature, and the mythological beasts’ demands began to make sense. Even I had had enough of his frolicking speeches.
“Listen,” I said bluntly. “How’d you like to get out of here?”
The unicorn blinked its large brown eyes. “At last! The voice of reason! It is painful how few virgins there are around this place! Although—” The unicorn looked at me significantly. “I can sniff one out if I have to.”
“Never mind that now!” I said, exasperated. “If you want to get away, there’s a job you’re going to have to do!”
“No need to get rough!” the unicorn exclaimed. “You know, I don’t go in for any of that kinky stuff.”
“No! No! I need you to carry my master away!”
“Your master? Do you mean—” The beast shook its splendid golden horn. “I do not carry shoes.”
“Well, then we’ll make a litter, and you can drag the shoe!” I paused. I should not let my frustration with this beast’s attitude get the better of me. How would my master handle this?
“Indeed,” I added. “It should be no problem for a beast as magnificent as you.”
The unicorn hesitated. “Well—”
Brax suddenly appeared between us. “How about an enchanted dagger to put on the end of that horn? I tell you, I have accessories to improve even your best mythological features. The dagger’s chrome-plated, too!”
“Doom!” Headbasher came crashing down, narrowly missing the demon.
“Easy terms!” Brax called as it leapt back on stage. “A lifetime to pay!” The warrior’s huge bulk lumbered after it.
“Oh, for the verdant fields,” the unicorn whispered. It turned to regard me solemnly. “Perhaps we could work something out.”
I regained the stage to tell my master.
The two demons were circling the Griffin. Nothing much had changed; everyone was still shouting or running or bellowing or bashing.
“I might be able to sell you a weapon,” Brax added hot on Snarks’s heels, “guaranteed to do away with pesky demons.”
“Excellent idea,” the Griffin rumbled in response. “And then I could do away with both of you.”
“Wait a moment!” Brax cried. “Do not dare for an instant to compare us! I am but a poor salesdemon, trying to eke out an existence during one of the most turbulent and potentially lucrative times in the history of the world.”
“Notice,” Snarks retorted, “when he describes himself, he does not resort to the word ‘honest.’ “
“Why don’t you come back to the Netherhells and say that, traitor? Just wait until—urk!”
Headbasher connected with Brax’s forehead. There was a dull thud.
“Where was I?” the demon said weakly. “Who was I? What was I?” It disappeared in a cloud of sickly yellow smoke.
“Ah.” Snarks smiled. “Teamwork.”
“Doom,” Hendrek replied.
From within his shoe, my master sneezed mightily.
“Enough!” I shouted, seeing my opening. “The great wizard and his entourage must proceed to Vushta!”
“I think not,” the Griffin rumbled, emphatically.
“But what of the demon’s warning?” I insisted. “The foul creature implied that the Netherhells has a plan that will destroy us all!”
“A mere charade,” the Griffin said, “once you consider it in the pure light of reason. We are familiar with demonic sales practices.”
The great winged creature turned to the crowd. “Think upon it, my fellow beasts. Better yet, let me ask the wizard a question. One wonders why he has not used the lightning trick again.”
The Griffin strolled over to the shoe and raked it gently with its claws.
“It seems to me that you have some weakness, and must hide within this shoe for a reason. Besides which, it restricts your mobility. Maybe we could learn to dodge lightning, and keep you around for a while. I’m sure, given sufficient time, you could see the mythological point of view—-”
“Urk!” the Griffin cried suddenly. “Then again, there are always two sides—”
The Griffin collapsed in a heap of feathers and claws. Headbasher had done its hellish work again.
“Doom,” Hendrek intoned.
The crowd of mythological beasts roared as one and surged for the stage.
“I think this might be a good moment to leave,” I suggested.
“Uh-oh. It’s time for Brownie Power!” The little fellow was once again at my side. “Why don’t we wish us out of here?”
The Brownie paused expectantly.
“Oh,” I said after a moment. “I wish we were out of here.”
“That’s more like it! We have to observe the conventions you know. Now, how to do it? A distraction of some sort?” The Brownie glanced at my master.
“The very thing!” He leaned close to me and whispered. “A rain of shoes!”
The Brownie began to dance a merry jig.
There was a rumble in the distance. The crowd paused, startled by the noise. The Hippogriff looked up with some trepidation, anticipating lightning.
From high up in the sky fell a single pair of sandals, tied together by their ankle straps. They bounced off the stage with a muted thump.
“Oh dear,” the Brownie fretted. “Not quite what 1 expected. Well, let’s not count that as a wish after all, shall we? Remember, I’m still learning.”
The crowd once again approached the stage.
“I wonder how Brownies taste?” something cried.
“Yeah!” something else answered. “Waste not, want not!”
“Wait a moment!” the Brownie cried. “Maybe if I did the tango!”
Both my master’s arms emerged from the shoe.
“Doom,” Hendrek whispered.
I wished I had my stout oak staff. We would not go down without a fight!
Suddenly, the world went dark. I looked aloft. Something very large plummeted from the sky, blotting out the sun.
“No!” the Hippogriff cried. “Not that!”
But it was. Why hadn’t I recognized it? It was, I knew, what I had seen before.