The Dark Flames – Book 6 - New Beginnings (no spam)

[dragon wench]

What do you do with a drunken sailor,
What do you do with a drunken sailor earl-eye in the mornin'?
Way-hey, and up she rises,
Way-hey, and up she rises,
Way-hey, and up she rises, earl-eye in the mornin'!
Put him in bed with the captain's daughter.
Put him in bed with the captain's daughter.
Put him in bed with the captain's daughter.

The dwarf continued his song...lecherously eying any passing female. " Hope he doesn't make it over here," muttered Pagan to herself. At that moment the dwarf paused his musical rendition and careened wildy across the floor. Unable to stop himself he crashed into her table, unseating her nearly full tankard of ale.

Not keen to smell like the soused stable hand she had seen lurking about outside earlier, Pagan quickly jumped up. The dwarf, however, was far less nimble....

Blast it! Who threw that at me?!? Draw your blade lad and fight me like a man! *belch*

Pagan looked casually over her shoulder, wondering who the dwarf was talking to.... yet she saw nobody....

"You lad, I'm standin right afore yea, confront me like a real fighter. "

Then it dawned on her, the intoxicated dwarf had mistaken her for a boy, inwardly she bristled. Assuming a frosty tone she turned to face the loutish countenance in front of her.

"One, you crashed into my table and spilled my beer upon yourself, and two I am female. "

This information appeared to stall the dwarf....
"You can't be female, you don't have...."

Pagan blushed furiously, and sputtered.
"Listen I may not look like a Saturday night trollop or ressemble the masthead of a ship... but..."

The dwarf, whose eyes were approximately at chest level, moved closer, "Aye, now I see...in fact..."

Enraged, Pagan stepped back, drew her dagger, and hissed ominously, " Listen wool sack, any closer and that hand will end up a severed stump...not to mention other parts of your anatomy...."

The dwarf backed away hastily..."Hey, I didn't mean yea no harm...." *belch*

In disgust Pagan rolled her eyes and moved away to another part of the room from where she glowered at the dwarf... "lad indeed...." she grumbled. Then she paused, thinking about her plans..... and with some reluctance she had to concede that the dwarf did have a point. Her cloaked, wiry frame was not obviously female from a distance, and her clothing was generally ambivalent. Even her hair, tied neatly back, did not immediately betray her as female. If she was to succeed the following evening...she would need to somehow alter her appearance....

[Yshania]

One after another Marianne greeted those seeking rooms, cordially showing them to their quarters before inviting them down for a private drink once they had freshened up from their travels, directing them towards the private guests bar in the west wing. Amidst the chaos of catering for the usual crowd, Yshania pondered on the travellers. The shady woman in the corner had somehow got herself embroiled in an altercation with the stand in captain of the guard. Yshania thought to warn her, but at the sight of the dwarf she realised that he had probably met a defiant match, and in a state that would have him forgetting of it on the morrow.

A huge hulk of a man was the first to request lodgings, the door slamming back against the wall as his voice boomed across the din. As he declined seeing his room for now and seated himself with an ale, a tall fair haired woman, seemingly irritated by an overweight back-pack, was the next to ask for a room. From where she was wiping the tables, Yshania was unable to discern any of the conversation but was quick to read Marianne’s apparent discomfort…

“Hey! Wench!” demanded a high pitched male voice. She sighed…

“Yes, what can I get you, Fas?” She observed as the halfling brushed his hands together after “defeating” Bloodstalker, before climbing onto a stool beside her. His legs dangling a foot off the floor he grinned at her

“Did I sound gruff enough for ye?”

“Fas, you know you don’t need to be gruff to get an ale here, and besides – it doesn’t suit you. You are too much of a nice guy for that” She grinned as he glowered back “Ok…I’ll get you a drink if you stay clear of Bloodstalker! You lads are way too much trouble”

“No fair!” the halfling pouted, then “Ok, promise!”

Yshania left to get Fas his tea in a special halfling sized mug. She rolled her eyes as she noticed both of his hands behind his back, his fingers crossed. She returned to the table, placing Fas' mug before him, surprised to see the halfling wink at her.

"Do you have something in your eye, Fas?" she asked, all concerned. He just winked again, before placing a hip flask on the table and unscrewing the top

"Does it work?" he asked her, eagerly anticipating a reaction

"Does what work, Fas?"

"The love potion! I was told a waft of this and a tip of a wink and the ladies would come running!"

"What is it, Fas?" she held her nose as the pungent smell hit her "Ugh!"

"It's haftershave of course!" he retorted indignantly "they telled me it would work wonders!"

Yshania smiled at him "Well maybe it will, my friend, but I am too busy to be a lady right now" She returned his wink with a laugh and left the sagging halfling to sulk alone, wondering whether it was he or she that should be drinking the brew...

[Nippy]

The door to the inn had opened wide, and a loud voice broke the din of the tavern, something was strangely recognisable about that voice...

Jargoth brought his ale to his lips and quaffed deeply, savouring the taste of the cool wet drink on his palate.

A loud clattering again broke the rowdiness of the inn, and Jargoth cursed under his breath as that damnable person broke his train of thought. He took another drink, and turned around, getting ready to tear into the fool that was making so much damn noise.

He turned round and choked on his ale, spluttering it out all over the floor.

"YOU!" Jargoth threw his tankard away and smacked a small halfling in the head who cursed loudly and rubbed his head, mentioning something about a Fairmaiden...

Jargoth wiped his mouth on the back of his hand and warily watched the damned thief that had stolen his horse.

"Had enough of the free ride, eh?" He smiled grimly and advanced on her. "Can I have my horse back now, or do I have to take it out of your hide? Some recompensation would be in order too..."

He grabbed her by the arm and pulled her up, holding onto her tightly in case she decided discretion was the better part of valour...

[Yshania]

The flying tankard bounced off Fas' head and twice across the table, before knocking the hip flask over and sending it spinning it's contents around the table

"You! you!!" was all the halfling could manage as he clumsily grappled for his pot of haftershave and tried to scoop some of the spillage back "You...you stealing my love from me!" He bellowed in that squeaky halfling way. Turning on the direction of the projectile, the halfling stood up on his chair and pulled himself to his full - plus borrowed - height and glared, his eyes squinting from a deep red and wrinkled face...then his jaw dropped as he saw the size of the probable perpertrator. As quickly as he had stood he wobbled then reseated himself, his arms wrapped sorrowfully around his flask, the corners of his mouth turned down in a pitiful cross between despair and frustrated anger. With heavy and resigned sigh, the halfling replaced the cap to the bottle and hung it back on his belt muttering "they told me! They said that this is my fair maiden in a bottle! damn them all!..." From the safety of the crook of his arm, he glared at the brawny newcomer and cursed him from a distance...

[dragon wench]

From her corner Pagan spied a strange sort of halfing protectively clutching and then reattatching a flask to his belt. I wonder what is in there.... maybe it is valuable", she thought to herself. Pulling her cloak tightly around her, Pagan slipped silently into the shadows.... At the opportune moment, she stealthily reached out and liberated the strange potion from the halfling's person, tucking it securely into a small bag suspended from her own girdle.

Smirking wickedly, Pagan retreated to a corner and continued to observe the ongoing revelry.

[Gwalchmai]

“Heh, heh. This stuff is great!

“Yeah, Ode sure grows the best, don’t he?”

The two ogres sat with their backs to a rock. The rock, in turn, sat next to the forest road between Ogre Falls and Ogre Ford. The ogres would be clearly visible if one were approaching from the direction of Ogre Ford. Unfortunately for those traveling from the direction of Ogre Falls (such as a certain group of traveling entertainers), the only sign of the ogre’s presence was a faint cloud of bluish smoke wafting above the rock.

The ogres were enjoying a day off. Traditionally, on the feast day of their obscure deity, the Ogre Chieftain spent the day trying to impregnate all the females in the tribe. All the lesser males usually snuck off to enjoy the rare bit of relaxation – a swim in a stream, a bit of a sun bath, and maybe a tall glass of lemonade. Another favored recreational activity involved the inhalation of smoke from burning herbs cultivated by a local horticulturalist.

The ogre on the right smiled as he carefully squashed a small beetle between his thumb and forefinger, marveling at the swirling, iridescent colors of the bug guts as the dripped off his hand.

The ogre on the left suddenly broke into song:

“Rise up this morning
smiled with the rising sun
three little birds
pitch by my door step
singing sweet songs
of melodies pure and true
saying, this is my message to you:

don't worry about a thing
every little thing is gonna be alright”

The ogre on the right gave a suspicious side-long look at his companion and snorted derisively.

Suddenly, a noise brought the ogres to their feet, though the one on the left stumbled hard into the other, nearly knocking them both back to the ground. They managed to keep their feet and gawked openly at the three travelers who sat astride their horses not two meters away. Reflexively, the ogres reached out with their long arms and grabbed the bridles of the stunned horses, effectively preventing escape.

“Aw, dude! Its our day off! Do we really have ta raid, pillage, and murder today?” the ogre who had previously been singing whined as he looked with pleading, red-rimmed eyes at his companion. He also listed noticeably to one side.

The other ogre wavered a little and brushed his meaty hand across his face to push back the dreadful locks of dirty hair that had fallen across his face. “Well,” he began slowly, rubbing his fingers against his pallid, yellowish skin. He looked at the tall man before him, who looked back hopefully. The ogre’s stature was such that he could look the man directly in the eye, despite the fact that the man was astride a large stallion. “These horses might make a good meal, and I sorta have the munchies right now.” The ogre’s eyes slid from the worried man to the smaller, wisp of a blond woman, who seemed to shrink under his gaze. Then the ogre looked at the meatier red-headed woman and noticed the jeweled broach at her breast. A slow smile spread across the ogre’s dry lips. “Hey, look at that pretty thing! Imagine how much herb Ode would give us for that!” He reached out a huge hand to grab at the heirloom on Scayde’s blouse. . . . .

[VoodooDali]

“O ye’ll tak’ the high road and I’ll tak’ the low road,
And I’ll be in Scotland afore ye.
But me and my true love will never meet again,
On the bonnie, bonnie banks o’ Loch Lomond.”

"If you sing that one more time, I'm going to go on a stampede. Besides, your high notes are all flat."

Gwally looked around, looked behind him, even looked up. The sky was darkening, but no one was there. His imagination must have been getting away from him again. He cleared his throat.

“Twas there that we parted in yon shady glen,
On the steep, steep side o’ Ben Lomond.
Where in deep purple hue, the hieland hills we view,
And the moon comin’ out in the gloamin."

"I'm starting to lose it, I tell ya. And what the hell is a "gloamin" anyway? I bet you don't even know, Gwally."

Gwally nearly lost his balance as the cart started to bounce up and down. The mule was bucking.
Gwally grabbed the reins, yelling, "Betty? That was you? I'll stop singing if you'll stop bucking, okay? Please Betty? Pretty please with sugar on top?"

Betty dug her hooves into the ground. The cart rocked a few times more.

Gwally was indignant. "For your information, I do too know what "gloaming" means. It's an old word for 'dusk.' "

Betty switched her tail. "Geez, you're starting to sound like these know-it-alls I used to know - HighLordDave, Fable and C Elegans."

"Ah, I've heard of them - they work in the Ministry of Information, don't they? People come to them with a simple question, and they write a 5 volume introduction to the subject."

"Yup, that's them." A large road apple fell out of Betty's rear quarters and onto the ground.

"Ewww." Gwally made a face.

"It happens all the time. It didn't used to gross you out."

"Well, that was before I knew you could talk. It just - changes it somehow...Speaking of that (no pun intended), how come you can talk?"

Betty shifted under the harness. "It's all because of my fondness for tequila. I was in a tavern playing quarters with a bloke named Bloodstalker, and I played until I was completely blotto and out of money. Long story short - I'm a shapeshifter, and I screwed up a spell to shapeshift into a cat so I could sleep for free on the hearth, and instead I found myself in this assinine form. Now I can't remember the spell, and I can't change myself back. I wandered around until Artemis captured me and put me under his yoke... Gwally, you've got to help me! You've got to help me find someone who can figure out a spell to change me back into myself again."

Gwally sighed. "That's a tough one, Betty. I'll have to think on that a while."

They trod along in gloomy silence in the gloamin.

Gwally cleared his throat to sing.

A horse is a horse, of course, of course,
And no one can talk to a horse of course
That is, of course, unless the horse is the famous Mr. Ed.

Go right to the source and ask the horse
He'll give you the answer that you'll endorse.
He's always on a steady course.
Talk to Mr. Ed.

Betty stomped her hooves into the dirt, "You got a death wish, Gwally? I thought you promised not to sing."

"Oh no - I just realized that's the solution! We MUST find the famous Mr. Ed. Go to the right source and ask the horse, he'll give you the answer that you'll endorse. He's a horse (of course) and has sweeping knowledge of many things - and being a horse (of course), surely he'd know the spell for changing from mule to human."

[Der-draigen]

Der-draigen discovered that the child's name was Marann; that he was older than he looked (ten, and looked seven); and that once you got to know him (after about eighty seconds) he was an unabashed chatterbox. He seemed to have lost his fear of Der-draigen (especially after she bought him a sweet on the way; he thought it was kindness but she was merely interested in stuffing something in his mouth to stop its running for one minute straight) and asked her all manner of things as they walked along.

"Your name is Der-draigen. That's a funny kind of name. Is it like 'dragon' at all? It sounds kind of like 'the dragon'. But another language. Say, are you related to the Elves? You look kind of like an Elf. You're not one though. I seen Elves sometimes down at the tavern. I never go in but the innkeepers, sometimes they give me stuff to eat. You're tall enough to be an Elf. Say, where'd you get those clothes? Are you an adventurer? I wanna be one too. Why don't you have a weapon? I thought all adventurers carry big swords and stuff. But some just cast spells though. They carry scrolls instead."

This boy could talk the hind leg off an imp, Der-draigen thought exhaustedly, just before she heard Marann say, "Here we are!"

They stood before the well-weathered door of what was obviously the local tavern, judging from the muffled din of music, conversation, and shouting coming from within. Der-draigen thought she discerned the high-pitched voice of a halfling whining about something or other. Well, this place would do; this place might even do nicely.

She took the gem and handed it to Marann. "You've earned your payment," she said, in an obvious dismissal.

The boy was crestfallen. Indeed, by this time his fear had morphed into positive admiration; mostly due to Der-draigen's keeping silent while he talked. Usually people just boxed his ears. "I don't hafta go, do I? I mean, I could work for you or something, right? I never had a job before. But I could do anything you wanted, really I could. Try me. Ask me anything." He stuck his little chest out and lifted his chin, like a soldier waiting for a command.

Der-draigen smiled slightly. The boy had real courage and spirit, she could see that. He might be useful.

"Very well," she said. "When we go in, get me a room, since you know the inkeepers. That will be your first task in my service."

Marann grinned and bolted into the tavern, the muffled sounds now swelling clearly through the open door. Der-draigen stepped inside and closed the door behind her.

[Scayde]

Scayde instinctively recoiled at the brush of the ogre's meaty hand. Judging by his size, it was clear that a fight would be out of the question. The color drained from Artemis when a swift kick in his horses flank brought nothing but a nervous whinny and skitter as result. No running away this time it would seem.

Scayde quickly sized up the situation. OK they are big..very big...but as uncoordinated as a tavern fly on a three day drunk..Gently she took the ogre's hand."Do you see something you want stranger?" She said coyly.

The ogre flashed a toothy grin, exposing a double row of yellowed teeth. "I do like pretties, I think I will like this one." with that he snapped the brooch from Scayde's blouse. Very satisfied with himself..he crowed at his companion, I do think a little snack would be good...Do you have the munchies too?

Scayde took the opportunity to draw them in. "Oh my, are you to gentlemen hungry? how fortunate, we were just about to picnic ourselves."

Artemis looked at her, his eyebrow raised, knowing she had a plan. They played off of each other well. "Yes, we were. Would you care to join us?"

The ogre's grinned at one another. The horses would be good, but this might prove a bit of sport first. The second ogre looked at the little blond." What are we going to eat?" he said licking his thick sallow lips.

Shaking, the girl looked to Artemis for an answer. She felt so betrayed. Scayde had told her there were no enemies about. Artemis had not even seen a bird in the sky and assured her that it was a quiet day.

"Go tell Gwally to prepare the kitchen my sweet. We shall stop for a repast before we continue on." With that Artemis smiled at the girl dismissively. Turning to Scayde he added, "My Dear, how about a dance before dinner?"

Scayde sighed in relief. Artemis was a genius, that much was clear. "What a coincidence Artemis, I was thinking the same thing". With that Artemis dismounted his steed and helped Scayde down from hers.

At the same time Gwally was pulling the wagon up to the front of the caravan. An exasperated look on his face."You want to eat already?!?" Just then he saw the ogres and caught up the reins in hand.

"Yes Gwally. See to the provisions, while Scayde entertains our guests." The bard answered.

"Guests?" Gwally retorted, but a hard look from the bard cut him off before he could finish. Pulling up beside him, the little blond whined to Gwally, "Artemis said it was so quiet, there was not even a bird.......oh Gwally, what are we going to do?"

"Not even a bird eh?"..."Any self respecting druid/bard would have seen that clearly as a bad omen...but noooo....not Mr. Lashtongue, Hurph." Gwally did not try to hide his disgust. He simply set about readying the provisions, while strangely talking to Betty, his mule.

Spreading the meal on the ground, Scayde began to dance about the circle, swaying suggestively to the music of Artemis's fat lute. Ankle bells jingling, bracelets tinkling, tambourine playing she danced and twirled to music.. Occasionally she would dance close to the ogres, trailing a hand suggestively down a chest or across a shoulder. Gwally passed about a generous jug of black Orcish ale, with which the ogres greedily washed down hunks of roasted meat. Wiping his greasy fingers across his lips, the second ogre reached out to grab the arm of the petite blond woman. Scayde new the time had come.

Taking her grandmother's charm bracelet in hand, Scayde deftly found the charm for "Paralyze". Taking it between her fingers, she began to rub it. When it was warmed sufficiently, it began to glow a soft blue. Scayde danced close to the ogres again and trailing her hand across the cheek of the first, activated the charm. The Ogre was frozen in place as he reached to scratch himself. Quickly she twirled away and throwing her arms around the neck of the second ogre, activated the charm on him too, before they knew it, both were frozen in an instant.

"Hurry cried Scayde. It only lasts for a couple of minutes, we must get going before it wears off."

While the party scrambled to their horses, Scayde, unnoticed, took the opportunity to retrieve from the ogres her brooch, along with a small bag of gold, a pipe, and a pouch of strange herbs.

[Gwalchmai]

“Giddy-up!” cried Gwally after he had hurriedly gathered up the remains of the meal by grabbing the corners of the red-checkered blanket and bundling the whole mess into the back of the wagon, “Come on, Betty! Let’s get a move on!”

Betty didn’t move.

Gwally thought about using the coach whip, but decided against it. Glumly, he stared at the departing figures of Artemis and his entourage while the ogres sat frozen in the road at Betty’s feet. “Considering you’ve only been a mule for a short time, you sure play the role well.”

Betty ****ed her head at the ogres, completely ignoring Gwally’s comments. “I’ve never seen an ogre this close before,” she said while carefully studying the giantoid’s shapes. “Look at the large, bulbous nose, the sunken eyes, and the attached earlobes. And what an unusual skin color they have! Like tarnished gold that has lain in a dung heap for several thousand years.”

Gwally began fishing around in the wagon, looking for his longsword. “Those creatures are going to unfreeze any second, and you want to admire their noses!” he said with an exasperated squeek.

“Okay, okay. I’m done. We can go now.”

“Let’s see if we can catch up to the others,” Gwally said, much relieved.

“We can make better time if you get off the wagon and walk. . . . .”

[Aegis]

"Bumbling fools... Do they not know the true extent of my will..."

"How far until we reach town?"

"Still some ways..."

"Don't! Don't even..."

"But what about my sword?"

"He did!"

He reached into the folds of his heavy blue robes, grabbing frantically at something within. If his face wasn't shrouded by the overly-large wide brimmed hat he wore, the other three travelling with him would've seen the look of pure ecstacy that over took him as he wrapped his hands around the cool wooden hilt of his dagger.

"I like swords..."

Whipping it out, and tried to run up towards the bulky warrior ahead of him. Before he could move his feet though, two pairs of strong hands gripped both his shoulders, and tugged him back.

"But... Stabby!" Collik looked to both men, one on either side, his face pleading behind the shadows. Erik and Sago shook their heads. "But he's a moron!"

"Swords are great..." the warrior ahead seemed completely oblivious to the commotion behind him, and continued walking towards the city, a happy grin on his face.

Collik sighed, and his shoulders sagged. "But..." He muttered to himself, as Erik and Sago let him go.

"I wonder how many swords they'll have..." the warrior continued to muse to himself.

Underneath the folds of shadow covering his face, Collik's eye twiched, and his hand began to make grabbing motions for his dagger again, which had been conviently removed by Sago when Collik wasn't paying attention. After a few moments of padding everywhere on his bulky blue robes, he sighed again, and continued the dull march back to civilization. "But... The moron..."

"Why must he be allowed to breath... Why must I be burdened with him, and these other bumbling... HEY!" Collik, after placing his hands in his pockets, while thinking, suddenly noticed the lack of another bulge in one of the many hidden pouches. He turned, and glared from behind the shadows at Sago.

"What?" Sago replied, innocently, tryijng hard to keep from smirking.

"Give it back..." Collik raised his dagger hand again, and attempted to stab Sago, but failed miserably once he remembered Sago had removed the dagger from his possession.

Sago chuckled, and continued to walk. "As appointed leader of this party, as such by Greg..." He motioned to the warrior ahead, who was still musing about swords. "I'm entitled to a fair share of whatever we earn. And, because you neglected to take your share of the treasure (Which conviently became mine), I had to take my keep from whatever you already had."

"Damn Greg... Stabby..."

"Besides, you were too preoccupied to care about the treasure, mumbling something about 'incomprehensible monkies'. Whatever that means..." Collik let Sago walk past him, and made another useless attempt to stab the theif from behind, before letting his shoulders sag with failure. During this time, Erik had walked up past both, and had engaged Greg in some useless conversation.

"One fireball... Thats all it would take..."

"Yeah, swords are great!" Greg exclaimed, then him and Erik seemed to slap each others open hand.

"GAAK!"

[dragon wench]

Irritated by the dwarf and wondering how to overcome her apparel difficulties, Pagan decided to step outside to clear her mind.

Evening had fallen, and the sky was a deep, inky blue. No moon illuminated the shadowed buildings amongst which she stood. Pagan smiled.. she had performed some of her finest work on nights such as this.

Yes! Of course! The solution was now obvious. Sure that she had seen a tailor on her way into town, Pagan headed off in the direction of a small cluster of dwellings a short distance from the inn. Keeping to the shadows, she soon came upon the guild sign she had noticed earlier and grinned. With care, she circled the house, and decided that the best way to enter would be via a tree that allowed access to a small, third floor window....

Conveniently enough, the tree forked near its base, and branches swept downwards, offering easy purchase to the tree's upper reaches. Perfect....

Pagan's agile build enabled her to quickly scale the tree. Suddenly...rough bark seemed to give way to a large patch of.... cloth..... Puzzled, she traced the material with her fingers. It was a flimsy, cotton fabric, and by the scant light provided by the stars, it appeared to have a floral pattern. Pagan wrinkled her brow.. she had never seen a thief wear anything like that. Then, shrugging, she continued, and soon came upon the window she had observed from below.

A quick glance informed her it was locked by some sort of complex mechanism and a set of bars greeted her lightly probing hands. Blast it....!.. With a sigh she reached into her belt and found her tool kit.... Just as she was about to attend to the window, a wan face appeared from behind it. Bugger...! Hastily Pagan made to retreat down the tree, but a quick rap on the pane drew her attention. The figure inside was making frantic hand movements, and it was apparent... that she was actually asking Pagan to unlock the window....

Uneasily, Pagan gazed at the person within... She did not appear to be attempting some sort of trick.... Ah well... if worst comes to worst.. she does not seem to be armed...

It did not take long for Pagan to liberate the window, and as soon as the last lock noiselessly yeilded, the figure inside enthusiastically opened the glass.

Never having been in such a situation Pagan looked at the woman dumbly and wondered what on earth she should say...

."..Um good evening," ... she finally managed and shifted uncomfortably on her branch.

[Der-draigen]

"D, I got us a room. See that barmaid over there? Her name's Yshania. She's the one you gotta pay. She says you gotta pay up-front like. She emptied a slop-bucket on me once when I was in the alley outside playin'. Didn't see me I guess. Say, you gettin' a drink? I sure could use one too."

During the entirety of this remarkable speech Der-draigen was threading her way through the crowd towards the bar. She glanced toward the barmaid Marann had pointed out, and --

No.

No...way.

It was one of the Dark Flames. That was why the name had sounded familiar! Yshania...It was that possessed druid from the Keep.

Then Der-draigen stopped her thought for a moment. How could that be? This was a time long before that encounter. Maybe it was just someone who looked the same. With the same name. Yeah.

No...it was the same person, only...different, somehow.

Der-draigen rolled her eyes. Ever since I got mixed up with those people, the weirdest things have happened -- weird even for me, she thought as she stepped up to the bar, Marann dutifully clinging to her side.

[VoodooDali]

"Betty, I'm tired of pulling the cart. I don't think I can go on much longer..." Gwally panted, sweat dripping from his nose.

Gwally stopped, and laboriously lifted the harness off his shoulders. His whole body slumped. He was secretly relieved that Artemis, Scayde and Bimbo #2 weren't around to see this.

"I'm still mad over that comment you made back there about me." Betty looked at him impassively, loudly chewing her cud.

"What comment?"

"You know what you said." Betty stared.

Gwally stood there with that familiar look of male bewilderment, racking his brain to remember everything he had ever said to or about her. "What'd I say?"

"You know."

"No, I don't know."

"Yes, you do."

"Do not."

"Do too."

"Do not."

"Do too."

"Do not. Come on, tell me."

"You know, when we first started out. 'Lazy Mule,' you called me." Betty ripped another hunk of grass out of the ground. "Now you know how it feels...Beast of burden, indeed."

"Aw, Betty, I swear I'll never look at mules the same way again." Gwally patted Betty on the forehead.

"And these damn flies...it seems like every fly in Athkatla has a personal relationship with my ass!" Betty swatted her rear with her tail.

"And all this grass, and oats, and hay, and hay, and hay, and more hay...it's so bland, I'm about to lose my mind!" Betty chewed ferociously.

"Geez, what's with you all the sudden, Betty? Are you PMSing?"

"Hey - them's fightin' words! But hell, Gwally, I don't even know...I've never been a mule before, I don't know if they get PMS?"

"I suppose it's possible..." Makes mental note to self: next question to ask the renowned Scientist C Elegans - can mules get PMS? "Look, if you help me out with the wagon, when we get to the tavern, I'll fetch you some carrots and apples, and a bucket of ale."

Betty nudged Gwally so hard, he fell on the ground. Then she lowered her head and licked him on the cheek with a huge pink velvety tongue. "Oh thanks, Gwally, that's the best news I've ever heard."

Gwally couldn't help but be dazzled by Betty's large square white teeth. He held onto her neck, and she pulled him to his feet, then allowed him to put the harness on her.

They started walking again.

"Maybe someone at the tavern will know where to find the Famous Mr. Ed." Gwally said.

"I sure hope so."

[Gwalchmai]

Evening came to the world with broad strokes of orange laced with filaments of pink, all grading into the dark blues and blacks of darkness. The larger insects went to bed while the smaller ones came out, only to be feasted upon by the swooping, farting, Bull Bats. The lights of Ogre Ford was a welcome sight; the sounds and smells of civilization bringing a smile to Gwally’s face and a wash of relief to his soul.

They trudged into the barn by the Traveler’s Rest, and Gwally secured the wagon, then opened the stall door for Betty. Betty glanced around to make sure no one else was in the barn, then whispered to Gwally, “I’m hungry.”

“Okay, okay. I’ll go get you something.”

“I sure could go for a nice juicy steak!”

Gwally raised one eyebrow at the mule, “You’re an herbivore.”

“Oh, right. I forgot.”

“I’ll get the apples and carrots for you,” Gwally sighed.

“Don’t forget the bucket of ale!” she called after him.

He found a stable boy and offered him a few coppers to fetch an assortment of vegetables and fruits. While he waited, Gwally breathed in the evening air – damp and cool this close to the river. He tried to relax, but found it difficult. Maybe he was still jittery from their run-in with the ogres, or maybe he was feeling nerves for the following evening’s performance. Neither of these theories rung true, however.

Could it be that he had just spent the afternoon conversing with a talking mule? The sheer absurdity of the situation told him that he wasn’t insane. Or was he? He figured he was not in a good position to judge his own sanity.

No, something else was bothering him. . . .

The boy came back with a basket full of carrots, apples, peppers, and even a few lumps of sugar. Gwally went in and Betty started eating hungrily. Gwally picked up a brush and began stroking Betty’s back where the wagon harness had rested. After a moment he cleared his throat, “Um, I’ll get your ale in a moment, but first I wanted to ask you a question: What, exactly, are you normally? I mean, when you’re not shape-changed into a mule, that is?”