#tboay

"How Adler Saved Kringlemas, part three," your hostess announces as she gets cozy and opens the book. "By Typeandkey, with tampering by Tegerio. I can't wait to see what those mad lads have got in store for us this time! There's a mark here indicating some sort of transition for this chapter. Looks like it's a metrical shift. Poggers! Such technical virtuosity! These are DEFINITELY the same brilliant minds that were behind that pumpkin programme."

Adler gawked down at the lowfolk domain: No castles, no moats, just some cul-de-sacs plain. Yet every window glowed warm as a spell, And streetlamps wore halos of soft caramel. He’d mocked their machines and their microwave ways, But from reindeer height it looked… worthy of praise?

“Where now?” he barked, clutching gifts at his sides. Kathy tapped parchment. “The magick decides. I steer, you read; the deer know where to dart— Kringlemas pulls us to each house by heart.”

The night blurred to montage of roof, chimney, poof! Stockings bulged quiet beneath every hoof. One gift, sometimes two—never gaudy or grand: A carved wooden train or a doll sewn by hand.

Adler frowned. “This is it? Just one toy per tot?” Kathy smiled softly. “It’s not what they got, But that someone noticed they tried to be kind. A whistle, a nod—and that’s all they need find.” Adler’s paw strayed to the whistle he carried, And admitted it doesn't take much to be merry.

Then came young Bill—bully, terror, and brat. Adler sneered, “Coal for this one, and that's that!” Kathy’s eyes twinkled. “And a switch of thorns— Spare the rod, spoil the child; or so the book warns.” Adler’s tail swished in approval most glad; At last, a tradition that wasn't half bad!

Next: little Wendy, whose sole wish was plain— One hug from the Kringle; no dolly, no train. She slept on the couch, with small fists to her cheek; Adler knelt, and he whispered. She woke with a squeak. Arms flung round his neck with a fierce, sleepy squeal— “I wished and I wished, coz I knew you were real!"

Adler’s throat tightened; his heart went all soft. He poured her some water, tucked her in with a cough, Touched the side of his nose—up the chimney he went… And found the roof silent, the reindeer all spent. No Kathy. No laughter. Just moonlight and dread, And cloven-hoofed footprints in fresh-fallen red.

Scene shifts—now we follow poor Kathy-Slough Drew To a rotting old park where the joy went askew: “Kringle’s Elf Grotto,” a decaying fun-ride Now a shrine full of spite, dark as midnight inside. Robotic fake elves dressed in suits of mildew Jittered and sparked, wired to torment on cue.

Kathy bound tight to a tinsel-draped chair, While broken PA speakers bleated despair. A voice, sickly sweet, cruel as wintergreen fog, Baa’d mockery down, just like poisoned eggnog:

“I've captured the Kringle’s pet yew-man at last— You truly thought loyalty to him would last? He kidnaps our kin, chains them to bench and vise— Tonight Frostheim falls! The greed-festival dies.”

From the shadows: A ewe in black velvet and thorns, Eyes glowing green as decayed candy corns. See her curled horns and her smile harsh as sleet— The lost Lana Lynne, now Unseelie complete!

(Your hostess pauses. "Oh crud, there's musical notation here. I never agreed to sing! And what's this mean, to the tune of Oogie Boogie's song? Am I supposed to know that?")

Lana: "Well, well, well, what have we here? Kathy-Slough, huh? Ooh, how very cute! So you're the one I’ve been chasing all this time? Ha, ha, ha, ha!

You're joking, you're joking! I can't believe my eyes! You're kidding me, you gotta be, This can't be the right spy!

She's homely, she's ugly; I don't know which is worse! I might just flip my wool now If I don't die laughing first.

When Lana Lynne the Floozy says There's trouble close at hoof, You'd better pay attention now I’ll give you lots of proof!

And if you aren't shaking, There's something very wrong! 'Cause this will be the last time You hear my floozy Song! Woah"

Animatronic Elves: Woah

Lana: Woah

Fake Elves: Woah

Lana: "I'm the only Lana Lynne!

Well if I'm feeling antsy, and I've nothing much to do, I might just grab a few thumb screws and a hot poker too. And don't you know the one thing that would make me feel so nice? The Kringle’s little errand girl for me to slice and dice!

Whoo-hoo. (whoo-hoo!) Whoo-hoo. (oooh!) Whoo-hoo. (yeah!) I'm the best floozy there is!"

Kathy: "Consider what you’re doing here, You know that this is wrong, Just untie me and release me. We can laugh and end this song!"

Lana: "You're joking, you're joking! I can't believe my ears! Would someone shut this bimbo up? I'm drowning in my tears!

It's funny, I'm laughing; You really are too much. And now, without permission, I'm going to do my stuff…"

Kathy: "What are you going to do?"

Lana: "I'm going to do the best I can.

Oh, the sound of breaking bones To me is music in the air Because I’m an angry floozy That plays with lots of flair.

It's much more fun, I must confess With revenge on the line You got me then, it’s your turn now, Isn’t that just sublime?"

Kathy: "I’m sorry, just come to your senses before this goes too far!"

Lana: "Oh golly, you're something! You put me in a spin! You aren't comprehending The position that you're in.

“Well, Mister Lord Randall Sir," Ralph explained giddily. "It’s a genius strategy of utilizing our surroundings and what he have available to us. We all pitched in on this and we’re really proud of it. First, we scatter a bunch of rounded pebbles at the entrance of the palace, which will cause the dullahan to slip and stumble. A few feet past the pebbles we’ll set up a trip wire that will - and this is the clever part - cause the dullahan to trip.”

“Tell him about the serving cart, Ralph," Phoebe squawked while her whole body vibrated with excitement.

“Right!” Ralph nodded. “The dullahan will land on a serving cart we’ll get from the palace kitchen, and that will carry him forward. As the dullahan is traveling forward at high speed he will move through a framework of ropes and hooks that will dis-armor him. After he is stripped of his gear, the cart will ram into a road block-”

“Technically a hall block,” Maeve interjected knowledgeably.

“The cart will ram into a hall block," Ralph continued with an affirming nod. "His momentum will send the dullahan flying across the room. He’ll land on a pressure plate that will trigger a mechanism to drop an entire sheet of that inflatable rubber stuff on top of him, thus completely trapping him and solving this mystery once and for all. And we’ll lure him into this trap by sending Slovenly and Folly out as bait. He will chase them, and they will lead him into the jaws of our iron-clad, fool-proof trap. It can't fail!”

All of the lowfolk youths began clapping after Ralph’s stalwart presentation.

“And then, like, we eat, man!” Slovenly cheered.

“Merthy thaketh, Thlovenly!” Folly-la chattered while excitedly dancing around. All of the youths laughed uproariously.

I stared in sheer disbelief at the torrential river of idiotic drivel that had just washed over me. I tried to compose myself to speak, but my mind was struggling to even put into words how stupid all of that was. “What- You- That- This- WHAT ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT?? None of that made any sense whatsoever! How could you even begin to think any of that would work? First of all, sending Slovenly and Folly out alone is a terrible idea! We just got finished being chased around town by the dullahan. HE HAS A WEAPON! He can just use his mace to cave Slovenly’s head in! Secondly, scattering round stones right at the entrance of the palace, an entrance that has steps that put the floor at eye-level as you approach, would be completely noticeable and only an idiot would fall for it! And even if the dullahan was fooled and stumbled around, what makes you think he would move in the direction of your tripwire? He could fall to the side! Or more likely, just regain his footing and step around the stones! Even if he did hit the tripwire, he would have to be moving at a monumental speed for the cart to roll forward more than a foot or two! Plus those carts have casters! They won't roll in a straight line without someone deliberately steering them. If, even though he won’t, but IF he did go careening down the hall, the framework of ropes and hooks tugging at his armor would just stop his inertia! He’d come to a full stop at the first hook! If the laws of nature suddenly stopped working and he somehow DID get all his armor stripped off AND continued moving at a breakneck speed, when the cart hits the road block-"

“Hall block,” Maeve reminded me.

"Hall block, WHATEVER YOU WANT TO CALL IT, he will not be launched in the air and go flying across the room! He’ll slide off the cart and go skidding across the floor! The odds are astronomically against him landing in the precise spot to trigger this pressure plate … and you also want to make a complex mechanism in the ceiling?? You're going to hoist a huge load of rubber up there so it will drop on the dullahan? Do you know how much that stuff weighs? How much time are you planning on spending making this thing? Where are the materials coming from? This whole set up will take AGES! We’ll waste hours of our lives making a trap that won’t even work! AND FINALLY! Since you want to send Slovenly and Folly into the ant-lion’s den to lure the dullahan to this trap, what makes you think they won’t just fall victim to this trap themselves? Will they stop or dodge in time while running? If the dullahan sees them jump to the side, he’ll either follow them, thereby ALSO evading the trap - or else he'll realize something is amiss and break off the chase! This whole thing is needlessly complicated and has too many steps that are too likely to fail! The more steps a plan has, the more room it has to go wrong! Here’s a better idea: Counting your ant there are a total of eight of us. We can easily overpower the dullahan if we coordinate our efforts. He’s armed, but so is Burnside. She and I are trained fighters that have seen combat before. We go out and find the dullahan, and since we are absolutely sure he is fake, we can stand and face him like any normal adversary. When we find him, Burnside and I will distract him. While he is dealing with us, everyone else can jump him all at once and overpower him. When he is pinned on the ground, we can disarm him and start pulling his costume off. This plan is simpler, smarter, and unlike yours, has a chance of actually working.”

The Folly-La Gang all stared at me with wide eyes. I could see a glimmer of understanding sparking within them. They were about to have an epiphany! Suddenly their eyes glazed over in unison, and their mouths opened and closed like landed fish. I permitted myself a tiny triumphant smirk as I waited for one of them to admit, "Golly, Mister Randall, you're right."

“Okay, so we should start construction immediately," Ralph declared instead, as if I hadn't said anything at all. "I’ll go gather the round stones.”

“I’ll start building the pressure plate,” Maeve announced.

“I’ll get the ropes and hooks,” Phoebe twittered excitedly.

“Like, Folly and me will go to the kitchen and get the cart, man,” Slovenly proposed, licking his lips.

“Merthy thaketh, Thlovenly,” Folly-la concurred, as he skittered around underfoot.

“Oh boy, oh boy!” Burnside cackled maliciously, rubbing her hands together. “This here is just TOO good. I can't wait to see how it all goes wrong. Lemme go cut up some sheets o’ that inflatable rubber fer yall!” She whipped out a knife and scampered off to help.

“It may not be the best plan, my lord," Rebecca said, soothingly. "But maybe we can help make it work with some elfly magick? It would be good practice for me. Plus, if it does work, the spectacle would be really fun to see.”

I looked at Rebecca with slowly dawning horror. The Folly Gang’s buffoonery was spreading! This was exactly how it happened last time! Full-grown adults who should have known better got swept up in the madness and wound up playing along with the most preposterous idiocy! Was there some kind of aura around these lowfolk that made people abandon all sense??

“Fine!” I barked, throwing up my hands in surrender. “Let’s do it! I’ll even help! Why not? Who cares if there are other, faster, safer ways to do this!? Would you like me to sing a song while we work??”

“There’s no need,” Ralph explained pleasantly. “We’ve got you covered.”

The lowfolk youths began singing their trademark song while they set to work on their moronic trap: “Fa-la-la-la-la, Where art thou?”

“What in tarnation was any o that supposed to mean?” Burnside demanded irritably.

“Don’t you see?" I gaped in astonishment. "Thomson has ascended to a new height of understanding. She now sees what ordinary folk do not. Her long years of solitude have allowed her mind to accept one of Fuma’s most blessed gifts: The gift of haruspicy.”

"The gift of Haru's WHAT??" Rebecca asked, shocked.

“Have you ‘ascended’ too?” Burnside asked me, sarcastically. "Without a sacrificial victim, all that was, was soothsayin plain an simple - if it warn't pure hogwarsh, that is."

“Wait wait, haruspicy? As in reading entrails?” Rebecca looked at the table. “The table is clean.” She ran her finger across it just to make sure.

"Okay, fine," I sighed. “The gift of seer-dom. Prophecy! Second sight! Whatever it’s called, she has it. Clearly this is a sign from Fuma of what to do next!”

“OH! That sounds so witchy!" Rebecca squealed with delight. "Welcome to the club, Thomson.”

“Beware the cloaked stranger," Thomson intoned cryptically while balancing Mr. Calaveras on her head. "She knows more about you than you do yourself.”

Rebecca clapped her hands enthusiastically. “Perfect delivery! The best match of darkness and vague whimsy. You should be dressed all in black though, instead of that Floozy activewear.”

"Heroes!" I declared magnanimously. “All heroes consult a wizened, slightly mad hermit seer on their adventures. These seemingly nonsensical oracles always turn out to have been exactly right all along. Obviously Fuma sees our need and has sent a babbling pythoness to join our team. It’s just like in the old stories!”

“Which stories, sire?” one of the Ixies asked.

"Lots of them! Anyway, there’s nothing more for us to discuss here. You must inform Meadow and Typantronn of the change of plans, and the rest of us must make all haste to Hoardblemish! There our path will be made perfectly clear.”

"Be mighty nice if the oracles made sense NOW instead of in retrospect," Burnside grumbled.

"But sire," the Ixies protested, “we still haven’t told you of troop movements, logistics, and economical fluctuations affecting the impending war.”

“There’s no time!" I insisted. "Thomson the Seer has spoken! The omens are fortuitous! Or at least they seem that way! Everyone, let’s get moving.”

“All right," Burnside shrugged. "Doin' beats talkin - an we weren't sayin nothin important, nohow.”

“What about the table and chairs, my lord?” Rebecca asked, pointing worriedly at the impromptu conference room we had set up amidst the trees.

“From what I remember, whenever I summon something from nowhere in particular, it eventually fades away, just like elf gold. Maybe these things are actually made of leaves and bark. If not, whoever finds them will get some free furniture. A gift from the elves. Now come, my faithful companions! Our righteous quest is before us! HUZZAH!”

“Huzzah?” everyone asked, looking at me quizzically.

“It felt like the appropriate thing to say…” I admitted, tugging on my collar.

As we neared the road, we saw a large object approaching in the distance.

"I think it's one of those antless carriages!" I declared, squinting at it. "Let's hitch a ride!"

“Wouldn’t it be faster just to pook?” Burnside asked.

“Too many variables with a group this size," I shook my head. "Dependable, straight-forward travel is our ally.” I held out my thumb and hitched up my trouser leg in the universal sign for mooching a free ride.

"Shouldn't you oughta let one of us do that?" Burnside asked. "Ain't nobody gonna stop now."

“Miss Rebecca says oi should style me hair to cover me eyes,” Kelly elaborated.

“How'll ye see?” Mary asked, as Seamus permitted himself a slight smile.

"It was nice to see you all again," I declared, after giving Rebecca a stern look. "Rebecca and I really should be going. There is much to do.”

“Awww, already?” Kelly pouted.

“You’ll all see me again soon enough,” I replied reassuringly, tousling her hair.

“Ooncle Adler, what about the surprise?” Clyde asked, eagerly jumping up and down.

“Gracious!" I exclaimed, snapping my fingers. "You’re right! How could I forget? And what a surprise it is! Would you like to see a REAL magick trick?”

”Ooo, yes please.” They all gathered around.

I theatrically raised my hands and wiggled my fingers. “Abraca-Pocus!” I yelled dramatically. I thrust my arms downward as if to conjure something from the floor, and all the horror trinkets I confiscated earlier came tumbling out of my sleeves.

There were ghost pens, wooden dullahan heads, miniature pumpkin lanterns, snow-globes of haunted houses, plaster bones, rubber ghosts that moaned eerily when you squeezed them, packets of fake blood, imitation severed fingers .. every spooky novelty gadget Eltsac Mailliw could imagine. They tumbled out for several seconds until a sizable pile was at my feet. Had I really taken that many? The boys gasped and applauded while Kelly laughed. Rebecca covered her mouth as she snickered at my antics. As soon as it was clear that the flow of toys had stopped, the children dove in and excitedly started sifting through the pile.

"Come on, toots," I said as I grabbed Rebecca by the hand and impishly dashed out the front door before Mary could protest. "It's time to skedaddle!"

I threw in a "woo woo" and a couple of "nyuks" for good measure as we dashed down the path away from the house. What else were eccentric uncles for?

We reconvened with the rest of the group and I informed them that there had been a change of plan. We would have to make a trip to Hoardblemish to check on things there. It wasn't far, and the weather was pleasant, so I proposed that we walk. The fresh air and sunlight would do us all some good - especially Thomson. I summoned some Ixies to relay the new itinerary to Meadow and Typantronn III.

A few wonderfully uneventful hours later, we were walking the road towards Percysthorpe. Rebecca was humming a cheerful dirge, Burnside was sharpening her knives, and Thompson was exchanging hushed secrets with Mr. Calaveras. Birds were twittering in the trees along the road, and occasionally a sheep bleated in the fields beyond. I gazed at the horizon and suddenly froze in my tracks.

You enter the story room this week to see Adler nervously packing a suitcase.

"Ah, good evening," he mutters as he crams large wads of green satin into the case. "I know you're itching to hear how the Folly-La Gang and I got out of that frightful situation in the ruins of Albric Tor, but unfortunately your lowfolk Thanksgiving is this week, which heralds the start of the accursed Kringlemas season. Normally at this time I pack up and appoint a substitute story-teller to regale my audience with tales from my thrilling autobiography during my absence, but this winter I wasn't sure what to do. The events of last year's holiday have me second-guessing myself. Instead of forcing me to slave away in his festive toy mills, the Kringle actually rewarded me with a very fine wiener whistle for being good enough to get on his Nice list. However, he made it quite clear that my fate THIS winter would depend on my moral performance during the intervening year - in other words, whether I had been Naughty or Nice. I have been on my best behavior (most of the time), but everyone slips up now and again. How in Fuma’s name is anyone supposed to know whether he's been truly good or bad? We don't even know for sure what the standards are! Fuma, for example, allows and even encourages things which I'm sure would earn the Kringle's stern disapproval. Obviously I would rather not cower all month in a dank, uncomfortable hiding place if I don’t have to, but I'm just not sure it’s worth the risk. Hm… Since you're here, why not make yourselves useful for a change, and help me decide. Should I head for the hills or stay- What on earth?”

Adler is interrupted by an icy wind blowing down the chimney. Glittering snowflakes in the colors of white, red, and green dance festively across the room. Suddenly, the wind reverses, pulling Adler towards the fireplace in a powerful vacuum.

“It’s not December yet!" the skunk-elf shrieks in panic. "I still have time!” He grabs his suitcase in a futile grip, but the suction from the fireplace pulls him along, bag and all. “No! NO!! I was good this year! I was good this year, I SWEAR!!! An elf-swear counts for-”

In a dance of glittering ice and sugar crystals, Adler is pulled up the chimney and vanishes without a trace.

Before you can react, the door opens and a mink femme in a very minimalist Santa outfit steps into the room. "Cor," she says uncertainly as she looks around. "Is this the right place? Come read Christmas stories to a room full of simpletons, the advert said. Good pay, free drinks. Looks like you've already started the party. Ooh pog, is this what I'm supposed to read?"

I recounted my thrilling and occasionally irritating tale of how I explored an ancient, dead city and enlisted the aid of some bumbling youths to discover that the hauntings were all a ruse! The story went on for a long while, and my narrative was so compelling that Seamus and Mary sat down to listen in.

"Such roobish yer fillin their heads with," Mary muttered at one point, with a shake of her head and a half smile - but she stayed and listened to the rest.

That was when I first realized that lowfolk were surprisingly suggestible - I mean, really good listeners! As long as they’re being entertained they will give you their undivided attention and believe almost anything you say! (Lucky for you that elves do not lie!) Telling stories based on my adventures was surprisingly easy, and fun! If I didn't have an empire to run, I could see myself doing this as a regular activity. But I'm getting ahead of the plot here.

“Moy favorite bit," Clyde announced when I finally concluded my narrative, "was when that spalpeen of a fox got all of his bones broken for bein' stupid.”

“Aye," Seamus agreed with a paternal puff on his pipe. "That’s an important lesson. Sure'n foolishness must be punished.”

"Else they’ll never learn,” Mary added.

"They'll never learn," all of the children repeated with a solemn nod.

“Well, Adler me boyo," Seamus proclaimed, suddenly slapping his knees and standing up. "That was a foine yarn, to be sure. Ye should consider writin stories for a livin. But now, could me an' the woife discuss somethin with ye in the kitchen? Kelly, help Miss Rebecca watch yer broothers.”

Rebecca put down her booklet and rubbed her hands with sudden glee. “Kelly, would you like for me to give you a little makeover with some makeup?”

"Oi don't want to see her painted up loike some Belfast whore!" Mary exclaimed over her shoulder as Seamus herded us out of the room.

“Now then," Seamus said, once we were in the kitchen and the door was closed. "Mary has some concerns which oi'm hopin ye can put to rest.”

“It seems too early to send Kelly off on her own," Mary declared. "She’s so young yet! She's lived a sheltered loife. All our children have.”

"There is no age limit," I explained confidently after having briefly scanned the brochures a while ago. "More important than age is aptitude. No matter how young, a student needs only to have ‘the gift’ and a willingness to learn.”

"No matter how old, as well," Mary pointed out. “No need to rush. There's also the tuition.”

“Tis not an outrageous proice, dear," Seamus stated gently. "Sure, we can absorb the cost. No proice is too great to give our family the best, an Kelly has special talents that must be honed.”

“You never need to worry about money," I declared. "I am a benefactor of the school, and I am willing to cover the full cost of tuition, lodging, supplies, and necessities.”

“Marciful heavens!" Mary exclaimed. "You’d really be willin to pay for Kelly’s education?”

“I am fortunate enough to have a .. somewhat sizeable fortune. Plus, that’s what eccentric uncles are for.” I gave Seamus a sly wink and he nodded knowingly.

“What about her prospects?" Mary continued. "Learnin magick is all well and good, but where does it lead? What koind o' husband can she get? Or will she woind up .. a workin girl? There aren’t many advertised jobs involvin the aetherial. What if the magick economy dries up or she can’t get a position anywhere?”

I stood there blinking for a second, unprepared for this question. Fortunately Seamus came to the rescue.

“The pamphlet said the school offers all the standard academic courses in their curriculum. Mathematics, history, economics, home-management, the works. Sure'n they're fully accredited, legitimate, an transferable to any respectable educational institution. Hoardblemish promises their graduates won't end up destitute with no prospects.”

“It just seems so dangerous, sendin our daughter off to do this," Mary persisted. "She’ll be crossin the threshold into some great unknown that'll swallow her oop. Sure, Kelly is gifted, an that's why puttin her out there could draw unscrupulous forces to her. It could make her a target. At least here we can protect her and keep her safely hidden in cozy obscurity.”

Before I could say anything, Seamus gently took his wife by the shoulders and spoke to her in a soothing voice. “Mary, me love, oi understand yer worries, but Kelly won’t be our little girl forever. Ye said it yerself, she’s gifted. Oi would even go farther an say she has a destiny. There are larger things goin on here that you an oi are not privy to. Sure'n there's a grand narrative at play, an if not at the school then it will foind her here. The best we can do is make sure she is prepared when it happens, an happen it WILL. That’s how these stories always go. An the trainin she will receive at the school will better prepare her than any amount o' cozy obscurity ever will.”

Mary looked at the floor, seemingly lost in thought.

“A Grand Narrative?” I repeated, looking at Seamus.

“The King of Elves gave us his daughter to raise," he admitted with a shrug. "Sure'n that sounds loike a Grand Narrative if ever oi’ve heard one.”

Mary looked up and let out a long sigh. “Oi suppose… oi suppose you’re roight. This day had to come eventually. We can’t keep her here forever. It would be selfish… Oi just thought oi'd be READY … or, that ye'd just come an whisk her away in the noight, loike in the old tales. Comin here an askin me to my face to send her off to some school, it's strange … oi'd even go so far as to say it's cruel."

"What is it yer on about, ducky?" Seamus asked, clearly baffled.

"This is it!" Mary declared, pointing at me. "When the elves come to claim the changeling they left behind! He's their representative! Surely ye've caught on by now!"

"Are ye daft?" Seamus asked, now visibly alarmed. "That's yer dear old broother Adler."

"He's not my broother!" Mary exclaimed. "For a while oi thought he was YOURS, but the more oi thought about it, oi realized he isn't kin to either of us at all, at all! Twas an elf trick! He's been hangin' around to keep an eye on the lass, is all."

“My lord, are you okay?" Rebecca asked me via Elfmind. "You look like you are having a conniption."

If only I could apport some pamphlets! Even a student activity leaflet would do! I had been able to apport things in the past without knowing their exact location or even what they specifically were, but I still had no idea exactly how I did it. I gritted my teeth in silent beseechment as I tried to visualize some part of the school. It was in the old Persoc Tor palace, which I knew reasonably well … but where would the promotional brochures be? The last time I saw it, they were still cleaning out the place and moving in! It had probably changed drastically since then! I couldn't stand here with my arms in the air forever! Seamus was staring at me!

With a sigh of defeat, I lowered my arms and was about to explain that I had nothing but I would bring something soon, when I noticed to my surprise that I was in fact clutching a fistful of glossy brochures.

“Oi see ye came prepared," Seamus exclaimed, as he reached out for one. "Foine bit o' prestidigitation there as well. Very dramatic. Oi suppose they teach that at the school? Ye really are on top o' things, aren’t ye? It’s like oi always say to moi Mary: That Adler really has his stuff together, bedad. That's a fella with a cool head on his shoulders.” He politely took one of the several pamphlets from my outstretched hands.

For a moment I was elated by my good fortune, but then I became silently annoyed. Why couldn't I do that whenever I wanted to? It would have solved so many problems if I could just apport whatever I needed from wherever it was at any time. I glanced at the remaining brochures in my hand and did a double take. One of them advertised a course of “Body Magick” for students that were legal adults. I quickly slipped that one into my Elfintory so as to not shock Seamus. He was studying the pamphlet he took, and much to my relief did not seem to notice. I opened another of the brochures and pretended to scrutinize it while my mind raced.

Body magick, eh? That could mean one of several things, but my gut feeling was that Headmaster Hoardblemish had followed my advice and hired my estranged wife and sometime sworn enemy to teach at the school. I couldn’t be 100% sure unless I checked in … but my hunch said she was there. Having that crazy femme around Kelly could be dangerous, but it could also be a way of extending an olive branch to Zandar. I would need to ascertain whether she had mellowed out at all. I couldn’t have her massacring entire villages in front of my impressionable daughter. It would set a bad example. Dammit! I was going to have to delay my sojourn into Faerie until I could get all of this sorted out. I would need to send some Ixies to both Meadow and Typantronn III, to tell them there was a change of plan. The Ixies would be fine with it, but Meadow would doubtless be severely annoyed. Oh well, it couldn’t be helped…

“Adler, me boyo, are ye feelin well?” Seamus asked, rather loudly.

“Wazza-wha?” I replied sagely, looking up from the brochure I had been staring at.

A little while later, the femmes and I gathered just outside of the Scrying Tower, in readiness for our expedition. I turned to address Meadow and everyone listened.

“Now we've got some time to go on an excursion," I began. "The trees will continue cleaning up the fields around Albric Tor, but I don't want them trying to clean the city itself. They're too likely to tear up the streets and buildings with their roots. We'll save that task for when Eltsac Mailliw is fully healed, which gives us some time to do something else. Now then, Meadow, as you said earlier, there are two places we can reach directly from here using the Gate. The first is Athstead, the Birthplace of Irenaeus, where I once went on a quest in which I received a vision from Fuma and gained her blessing of Luck. The second is a marshy region of Faerie where a community of Seelie elves have returned to living according to the Old Ways of our tribal ancestors. You told us that Athstead is suffering from a depressed economy due to their limited farmland and the scarcity of any sort of outside trade due in no small part to the sad fact that very few elves know how to use the Gates. The marsh community that you mentioned is living in the shadow of a monastery that has forsaken the worship of our blessed Lady Fuma and instead is the headquarters of a cult that worships a giant fish that I may know all too well.”

“Yes," Meadow nodded. "Yes, I did tell you all of that.”

“She did, my lord," Rebecca nodded cheerily. "We were all present.”

“Is there a reason why you explained it all again word-for-word?” Burnside asked.

“Well, uh," I floundered. "It seemed important to reiterate it, you know. Bring everyone up to speed. Someone might have forgotten.”

“I remember," Thomson confirmed. "It was only a day and a half ago. But in another way it seems like ages ago. It feels good to get out of that grimy bathrobe. What luck that we found a trove of Floozy clothes.”

"I'd have been surprised if we didn't find any," Meadow sniffed, "considering how many Floozies Estmere kept around. With all of the outfits available, why did you choose that one?"

"It's comfortable," Thomson shrugged.

There was an awkward pause as they all turned to me with expectant looks. “Well, good,” I nodded with regal authority. “It is time for us to decide where we shall go first. Athstead seems like the prime choice for our first destination: A well established settlement with historic ties to the empire would be a good ally that will owe us a favor after we help them. We may need all the help we can get for whatever evils are plaguing the elves in the Marshy Region. However, if the fish god this cult worships is the one I am thinking of, their peril may be more dire than we know. Time could be of the essence. So perhaps we should go there first. Or, since whatever's happening there has been happening all this time without us, we could go see Kelly first, and THEN choose a destination in Faerie.”

“Well then, where do YOU think we should go first?” I asked, turning and pointing.