068 – How Many Star Service?

A set of porters stepped out to take the animals as the three dismounted. The Caplan’s were about to unhook their weapons and bags from the saddles, when Caspian spoke, in the language they commonly spoke among themselves.

“Leave them. Everything will be taken to your rooms. Despite their racial arrogance, they still take inordinate pride in their treatment of guests.”

Caspian still had his staff, but made no move toward his other saddle born equipment. Instead he stood aside as his porter took in horse away. Rox looked critically at the elf that held her own horse as it led it and the attached mule away. Steven was more interested in appraising the architecture.

Once out of earshot Rox caught up to Caspian, who was walking to the center opening of the structure. “That elf did not look any older than I am, though a bit taller. How fast do these elves grow?”

Rox had finally asked a question that Caspian did not have a solid answer for.  “I’m not certain. If you can get a friendly one, you can ask them.”

The door was twice Steven’s height, and the pair formed a square, as two door-elves opened for the three to enter. Directly inside was the first real culture shock for the Caplan’s. The desk that lined the far side of the foyer sat at shoulder height to Roxanne. A male elf sat behind the desk looking like concierges the universe over, anxious to help as much as possible in their strictly defined impeccably polite parameters: money talks but only up to a point. Caspian again spoke elf introducing himself, his companions, and at whose request he was here by, and was quickly passed to a bellhop who led the three to their rooms.

Caspian was lodged in a small suite in one section of the structure. He went in and was out of sight for a moment as the bellhop whisked Roxanne and Steven to a larger suite.

The Caplan’s suite was a studio with a common room, to the left a wash room against the hallway and a bed chamber to the outside, all divisible by curtains, with a few free standing screens also arranged for privacy from section to section. The bed chamber and common room both had balcony exits with bi-folding doors. The balcony looked onto a courtyard in the middle of the hotel. Though they had not changed level, they were on the forth level up from the ground of the courtyard.

All the furniture was of a scale that dwarfed the Caplan’s. The bellhop had seen the size disparity, and blanched slightly, before leaving.

“It’s been years. Is this how big adult furniture is to Diana and Alex?” Steven asked as he pulled his vest off and set it on a chair.

Rox put her own stuff down on another chair. “No. This is how it was to them four years ago.”

They set about looking the room over, finding it larger than the suite Rox had in Veradale, and not just for scale. It was appointed nicer, in ‘impress the customer-sheik’ where as Veradale had been palace utilitarian.

Caspian knocked on their door a few moments later, and was less enthralled by the decor than he was the scale. He looked at the things draped over the furniture, and continued on. “Yeah, they will probably be along in a moment, to change out the furniture, now that they know your size.”

Rox put a hand to her hip and shifted her weight to one side. “Excuse me? What does our size have to do with anything?”

Caspian brushed it off, as he looked out. “You got a balcony. I’ve got total indoors. I expect the clan did not bother to inform the staff here that you were of human size, as opposed to elf. I expect it will be somewhat of an embarrassment to them that you are only as tall as you are. The settlements we went though where the half-elves were? I expect more of them were half than you realized. How tall the offspring gets is usually as much a crapshoot as any other genetics, at least in the first generation. I expect your progenitor had a bit of magic at hand to deal with that, but that is not worth speculating about right now. Nor is that why I am here.”

Steven’s sense of humor was at the fore as he continued poking about the room. “Ah, the second great question of life: why are you here? As opposed to the third great question of living: where shall we have lunch? I like that one first.”

Caspian had faced this sort of non sequitur humor from Steven for the last several months, and so was ready for it. “Lunch will be out in the market, as soon as we are dismissed to go by the Clan. I expect the staff here sent a runner once we were out of the foyer. I expect their messenger will be here shortly.”

As if on cue, there was a knock at the door. Rox opened it, and looked at the belly buttons of a bellhop’s vest. In the hall behind him was a work gang of others with an array of furniture in hand.

The first spoke. “The staff apologizes for the inconvenience of the furniture not being proper for your stay, and is here to remedy the situation, if you will give us leave.”

Rox was getting annoyed at being able to hear a language, but not able to speak it. Steven simply read the situation for what it was, despite not understanding a word that was said.

Caspian answered for them, visually gathering Steven up as he did. “Yes, we were just stepping out. If a messenger comes for these, please divert them to my rooms.”

Steven picked his and Rox’s things up as he left third.

Out in the hall, he caught up to Caspian and his wife. “You need to teach me that language.”

Caspian just shrugged. “In time.”

Lunch was the first fully relaxed meal in a while. No trail to hurry to get on to, no balancing their food on their laps, no cooking over a camp fire. They sat at a table and made a splendid spectacle of being the shortest people in the open air deli, unable to communicate by words, but having the money to communicate just the same.

As they sat, Steven’s continual observation of things military showed him that the deli they were sitting at was a battlement that looked over the district of the city below them. Complete with the stone mounts for catapults and possibly a trebuchet, artfully used by the deli for their own purposes. As he looked the city over further he was able to see that this city was as much the fortress as Veradale had the capacity to be.

Rox enjoyed the local food, finding it pleasing to her pallet. She had picked up the bread making from Steven as they were on the road, and had experimented as far as their limited supplies had allowed. The varieties of flat breads served with their lunch were delightful to sample. As well she was glad to be off the back of an animal and off her feet.

Caspian kept an eye out the whole time, waiting for some messenger to show up. But no one but the waiter interrupted the meal. Cyrril explored the area and then settled onto a sun lit plinth nearby. As Caspian was expecting to be interrupted, he was not as relaxed as the Caplan’s.

They walked back to their hotel and Caspian led them first to his room, so that the Caplan’s would know where he was staying if they needed to. They went back through the foyer as they returned to the suite the Caplan’s were assigned, when the expected messenger intercepted them.

A young female elf with a flat wooden box under her arm approached Caspian. She was little taller than Roxanne, wearing her sides in beads and dreadlocks. Her vest, blouse, and skirt did little to set her apart from the rest of the locals. She handed the box to Caspian, talked briefly with him, and left.

Steven had watched, curious. “What is that?”

Caspian looked at the box as if it was unclean. “They kept the formal robes they made for me the last time I was here. I left them behind as too bulky to carry. I personally think they look hideous. They ‘will see me tomorrow and thence I can inform you of when they will see and talk with Roxanne’. In the mean time, Roxanne can expect to spend time with a tailor. A messenger will be by shortly to pick her up.”

“And what about me,” Steven asked.

Caspian put the box under his arm. “I expect they don’t care what you do so long as you do not interfere. But I doubt they will be outfitting you yet, if at all. I had to pay for these. I guess that Rox will not.”

They found the furniture in the room was closer to their physical size when they got to the suite, such that it was actually sized to their use. Caspian set his box on the table and sat down to rest in an overstuffed chair that looked out across the balcony.

Steven and Rox found that their equipment had mostly arrived. The tents and cooking implements and food bags had not, nor had the animal’s harnesses or other tack. But their clothes, weapons, bedrolls, and other equipment were all in array. They set about sorting it and arranging it for washing. On questioning, Caspian replied that the hotel might probably wash all of it, but they would need to explicitly ask for this service. Or they could wash it in the over sized tub.

The expected messenger arrived shortly. The same elf that Caspian had met two previous times, and the Caplan’s once. He spoke the language of Veradale, and so Rox could actually communicate. She went with and was gone for several hours, as Steven tended to the gear.

Caspian dozed off in the chair.

069 – Caspian Goes To A Meeting

The next morning, after cleaning up Caspian dressed in the disliked costume: short pantaloons with long stockings, a long sleeve shirt, and a long linen robe that split for his legs and hung to his ankles, with a second robe that hung to his knees. The long and short robes billowed in the air as he walked. Caspian had deliberately not been shaving, so his beard looked scruffy. Also he did not bother to clean the road grime from his boots. Taking his staff, he left when the same young female elf arrived with a carriage, not bothering to see the Caplan’s before leaving.

Caspian was escorted into Clan Nidaer's building and into their Council Chamber, and stood to center before a curved table. The room was well lit, but still had the feel of having a dark perimeter with those at the table in shadows and the person in the center in a spotlight.

The clerk at the side spoke for the group. “Report, wizard.”

As usual, Caspian the Mage bristled at ‘wizard.’

Caspian made no effort to hide his contempt and frustration at this group as he spoke, starting without salutation. “I did as bidden and equipped. Steven and Roxanne Caplan are now in my company. Per your instruction, I allowed their children to be taken; they are among the caravan headed to Krogg, and apparently healthy. We would be much closer to intercepting them, had you not required our coming here, or had you assisted us in doing so.”

The Clan Leader at the center of the table spoke. “You were supposed to bring our daughter directly to us. . .”

Months ago, Caspian would have politely waited for the elf to finish. That was before. Now he interrupted the Clan Leader.

“Things happened. Because I followed your instructions, I had to take Steven and go find Roxanne in the kingdom of Dorston, and buy her back out of slavery.”

The Clan Matriarch, sitting to the Leaders right replied. “It was expected you would be good enough to prevent such diversions.”

“If you had given me a free hand, I expect that such diversions probably would not have happened,” Caspian shot back. “I expect that since you have little experience with bringing people who have never been in a magic environment into one, or had the experience of having done so of yourself, you do not know the reality of the shock to the system of the individual it is. I decided it was advisable to acclimate the Caplan’s to this environment before they had to do anything else drastic. While that condition in them obtained, I traveled with Steven Caplan to retrieve Roxanne. Frankly, I am now ready to storm out of here on my own and continue after the kids. But I have a better idea.”

Caspian paused, seeing that he had knocked the elves back slightly, whether by offense of propriety or ego he did not know or care. Before dropping a load on them, he was going to weight it down first.

“I did some checking after I left here, last time. You approached five other members of the School of the Orders, before approaching me. You want to know what I learned? First I learned what you needed.

“You had the time limit of the Krogg caravan beating you to the punch. You were kind enough to give me a cursory warning about that, but had to learn the details on my own.

“You did not want to send one of your own, because Terra is a low-magic world and a Scale Zero tech-world. So you could not pass comfortably unnoticed. That left hiring someone. So you contacted the School. You learned that there were four thousand or so of us who spent time on Terra.

“You needed one who was unattached, therefore expendable. That narrows it to about three hundred of us.

“You needed one who was at least a Journeyman skill level. That is about two hundred fifty of us.

“You needed one you could pay to go. That makes about one hundred fifty.

“You needed someone who you did not already owe any favors to. That cut off about thirty more.

“Then the most fun thing I learned: the first five you approached turned you down, refusing to agree to bring the family to meet you. After all if the parents end up outside your thrall, so would the kids. Had I known you better, or these facts, before I came the first time, I would have turned you down.”

The Clan Leader had recollected his ego and replied. “The facts you report of our inquiry are accurate, but not relevant. Our reasons for wanting to bring our lost daughters here are not your concern.”

Caspian interrupted again, quite enjoying venting his tantrum at this sanctimonious bunch. “ON the contrary they very much are. I will not be part of any activity that leads to the captivity of free people. As such I will not stand for the Caplan’s being kept here against their will.”

“WE have no intention of keeping them here against their will,” the elf replied.

“No, of course not. In your ‘enlightened sense of responsibility toward these descendants of one of your own, however wayward she may have been’ you just won’t let the kids leave with the parents, until you have had the chance to properly train them for their prophesied rolls.”

Caspian looked around, magically and otherwise, and saw that he had nailed their intention to the floor in one blow. He continued.

“Well, guess what I have done? I have told Steven and Roxanne all this. Now they have a bit to decide. As for you, I suppose you think that once I am paid off, I will just go on my way. Or even if you don’t pay me. But that is not what I am going to do.

“I am going to see to it that Steven and Roxanne Caplan are reunited with their two children, and returned to their home, on Terra. And if you don’t pay me, so much the better, then you will still owe me for my services rendered.”

This got to some of them. Caspian had seen the last time he was here that there was some disunity among the elves convened around him. Now in his declaration Caspian hoped he had knocked it a little wider, at least on this issue.

“Human, you have no right. . .” the Clan Leader started.

Caspian interrupted him a third blustering time. “I have every right, you pompous windbag.

“I have not learned much of Roxanne’s progenitor. But from what I have learned it was to get away from you that she left.

“Our contract was for me to get them here as a family. I was on my way to do so, when you interrupted. As I recall there is nothing about my not helping them further on my own. Also that I get full payment and then some if you release me early. And after release anything I do after that is my own business.

“The Caplan’s are not your slaves. I will not countenance your keeping them here if they do not wish it, of their own free will and choice.”

One of the Family Heads sitting to Caspian’s left spoke before any others could respond. He looked older and like he might be in a religious order.

“What we do is to prepare for the Chaos Bringer.”

Caspian was ready to deflect this. “Which is not even born yet. Do you expect two kids to fight? Or the adults they will mature into?”

“If they stay here, we can train them”

This was what Caspian was waiting to hear, and had a rejoinder ready for. “You can train them after they have grown to maturity sufficient in their home culture to choose for themselves.”

“Much time will be lost”

“And so will that time in fighting with parents who do not want to be here. They have every right to choose for themselves. Or are they merely half-breed slaves?”

Caspian smacked the end of his staff on the marble floor to emphasize his last word, and waited. The elves said nothing, some slapped by his words. Some by the implication of his opponents.

Caspian waited a long pause then spoke again.

“Here is what you will do. For the duration of our time here, equal to the time we would have spent traveling south, you will train Roxanne to better utilize her innate magical abilities. You will outfit her as suits HER. Also you will outfit Steven as suits him.

“I cite to your attention the prophecies from Krogg, about the Monarchs there that probably started this whole mess. These were pointed to my attention by a friend. It took some time to get a copy and it is only a fragment. But the pertinent point is that the parents of the kids need to be able to fight on the local ability levels. Help me teach them to do this, or I will pack Steven and Roxanne up and take them out of here.”

The elves looked around at themselves quietly. Caspian quickly grasped that this was a debate they did not want to have in front of him. At the same time he could see who was probably on which side of this issue.

“I will be in my quarters, about the city, or with Steven and Roxanne. If they do not receive messengers by this days end, we will leave by lunch tomorrow.”

Striking his staff on the marble for punctuation, Caspian turned and walked out. The doormen opened and then closed the doors without him breaking stride.

Caspian did not expect that their stay with these Elves would be totally pleasant, and had warned the Caplan’s about this. With their superior-than-mortals attitude, most of the elves Caspian had encountered were either amusedly condescending, or arrogantly scornful. And some times they were both at the same time. Thus far their treatment of Roxanne and Steven was about what he had expected: the general population ignored them, unless directly confronted. So far The Clan was a bit more tolerant, but still treated them as guests who have over stayed their welcome. Caspian thought part of it was that Roxanne’s great grandmother had the bad grace to spend her life with a human, take on human form, and then not tell her children about their superior heritage.

Caspian fumed about these things as he walked back to the hotel and his rooms. He needed to talk with the Caplan’s and tell them what had happened, but first he wanted to get out of the disliked costume.

Caspian found them across the street in the café, browsing through a sandwich fixings platter. Sitting at an elf-scale table they looked like young teens sitting on stools almost as tall as they were, taking two of the seats at an eight position table. Caspian pulled up a stool a little around from the Caplan’s so that he could look at them in the eye across the table, rather than sideways, and fixed himself a sandwich. Cyrril fluttered to a landing on the table, snagged a slice of meat from the platter and hopped to a nearby planter to eat.

Both Caplan’s could read his agitation and let him eat a bit before asking him how things went. Steven finally started as Caspian set his partial sandwich down.

“That bad, humm?”

“No,” Caspian answered as he took a drink. He put his cup back down.

“It was about as I expected. If they don’t come to offer any help, we pack up and leave tomorrow. If they do offer, then you should be circumspect in just what is actually offered. I read two main factions: one is authoritarian, and simply wants to order you around. The other is probably friendlier, and probably willing to acknowledge your maturity and let you chose your own path and provide help.” Caspian picked up his sandwich and started into it again.

070 – Lunch And Griping

Rox and Steven continued their previous conversation as Caspian ate. Behind them a carriage arrived. The footman at the back looked around and then walked around the café side of the coach and opened the door. An older female elf extracted herself and her skirts from within the coach and alighted to the cobbles of the sidewalk. She briefly rustled the skirts to resettle them and then strode across the café to the only table occupied by non-elves.

“Good morrow to you.” She spoke in the formal dialect of the language of the kingdoms Steven and Roxanne had hitherto traveled through.

Caspian turned and sat up slightly straighter. Rox turned and looked up at a female that reminded her of her mother, when Rox had been younger. Steven looked up at a tall female who would command respect from anyone sensitive to any level of social propriety.

Head and shoulders taller than Steven, she was comparatively lightly built, with features well within the local norms and comparative middle age, though her gray streaked mohawk was short trimmed with longer sides gathered into a jeweled hair piece and tail. Her gown was of local cut and color and flattered her. The only other jewelry was a multi-strand necklace of assorted cut and polished stones. She used a walking stick, though whether for age or status was indeterminate by her stance. The one feature that got the attention of all was her eyes, the same shape and color as Roxanne’s. On further examination Steven could see other faint familial similarities in the face structure.

Caspian started to answer but had to swallow first, and Roxanne beat him to the point, reverting to the manors she had drilled into her at Veradale.

“My Lady. Will you please sit and join us?” Rox motioned to the open seats between herself and Caspian.

“Thank you, I will.”  Gracefully she pulled the stool out and swept her skirts around it and sat. She set her stick against the rim of the table and proceeded to help herself to the arrayed platters, making her self a sandwich wrapping her food in a large leaf instead of a roll.

“You may call me Sharlot.”

The waiter approached and put a cup down for her, and as she made no action to order, he departed.

Steven took charge. “Sharlot, I am Steven Caplan. This is my wife, Roxanne Caplan. I gather you know Caspian the Mage.”

“Yes. I am familiar with him. For myself: I am probably, as you would call it, your aunt, young lady. Your progenitor, Rodira, was my younger sister. I suppose she and her beloved are since passed?” Sharlot maintained an intense propriety as she folded her sandwich into a square and took a bite.

Rox answered. “Yes, Grandma Rhoda and Grandpa Charles died not long after I was born. Their daughter Esmeralda, called Merilyn, married Hugh Frost. Now in their eighth decade, both are still in fine health and living on a farm.

“Their daughter, my mother, Margo married Michael Winslow. She is a jurist doctor specializing in business contracts, he is an engineer.

“I teach children to defend themselves, and rebuild motor vehicles as a hobby. Steven and I have two children, Diana who is ten, and Alex who is eight.”

Steven picked up the strand as Rox proverbially handed it to him. “I am a retired Marine, and make bags for equipment.”

Sharlot took her turn. “I am currently the representative of my grand-sire’s line on our Clan Council. Like your mother, I am educated in contracts. I have nineteen children by my mate, half of which have left this city and its environs to escape my parents, as my sister and several other siblings did.”

Sharlot took a bite and when finished turned to Caspian, and business.

“Mage, you did an excellent job in telling off that pompous windbag.” She turned to the table as a whole.

“I am come to tell you that despite his personal desires to dictate to you what will happen, the majority of us will provide for whatever re-outfitting you desire, and see to whatever further training we can help with. To this end, you are all invited to a meeting the morning of the day after tomorrow. At that meeting those of us who want to help you will have it out with those who want to order you around. We wish all of you there, to both argue your case and hopefully make a bit of a scene whereby that pompous windbag and his allies will be squelched in their desires to command you and instead fall in line with those who want to help you.”

Sharlot continued. “Whatever happens, the current requested schedule is for you, Roxanne, to return to the tailors, this afternoon and tomorrow, for proper attire to present yourself before the Council.”

She turned to Steven and continued. “Steven is to be met and evaluated by a ‘specialist’ here in your suite this afternoon. The report from that will guide in what help is further offered on that front. It is expected that tomorrow, you will also go to a tailor and be properly outfitted for the meeting.”

Caspian snorted slightly. “And what interference will there be by those who would just as soon order people around?”

Sharlot washed a bite of her sandwich down and answered. “Little to none, so long as they keep being offensive enough to keep the rest united against them. The council and then the mages want to evaluate you and then offer the appropriate help, contingent on your choosing to accept. Our clan mages wish to test you, Roxanne. One has suggested getting a Psi to put the knowledge directly into your head and help you sort it out.”

Rox sat back a bit at this, but was piqued in curiosity. Steven was ready to defend and support Rox, whatever she chose.

“What kind of help can we expect?” Steven asked.

Sharlot consulted a mental list. “Evaluation and further training in magic for Roxanne. Also there are hints that some of what you have before you in retrieving your children may require some local equipment. Some want to reoutfit you completely in our own type of equipment. Lastly, there are some currently investigating in further depth the monarchs that ordered the kidnapping of your children, and information surrounding them. Once they report, we can better move to help you.”

Steven vented some irritation as Sharlot ate a bit more. “So you are saying that not all the relevant information is currently put together, but you have people working on it. Then once it is all together, we can all act more assuredly. I suppose that because of the personal opinions of some, not all this information was previously considered important, but with the current situation that opinion has been rendered invalid and the information is now important. Now we are playing catch-up.”

Sharlot politely nodded. “Essentially so.”

Rox answered before Steven could go further. “Very well. We have been playing catch up for the duration so far. I suppose a little longer won’t hurt. How shall we know the ‘specialist’ that will evaluate Steven?”

“You have met him at least once already. You may address him as Verigan.”

Things apparently having run their course, and no further questions coming at the moment, Sharlot stood to leave. “I will return and report to the Council and start things in motion. I expect your messengers will be by shortly. I will see you the morning after tomorrow.”

Were they taller, the Caplan’s would have stood as she left. Caspian, for his part made no effort toward higher politeness., and merely nodded at her departure.

That evening Roxanne was wearing a new white dress, vaguely toga like, with her left shoulder bare. The line crossing the curve of her bust line and going under her left arm, neatly forming a décolletage. It clung tight to her bust and ribs, the rest hanging like loose drapes, following her every upper curve, and obscured everything below.

Steven was watching her pace up and down the suite. Her exposed muscles flexed and worked in a mesmerizing manor. A full length sleeve bloused and ruffled down her right arm, ending at the heal of her hand with a thumb loop, and one over her middle finger. Her right side was hidden under the gathers of the off-white dress, with a knot going through an ornamental ring on her shoulder. The cut was alternately skin tight and falling-off loose, depending on how she moved, exposing her toned physique, particularly accenting her shoulders and back, while only hinting at the rest of her. The bright-off-white particularly suited her. The light played through her white mohawk, seeming to streak parts of it with a light blue. The braids on either side moved in time with the rest of her.

“I’m really beginning to wonder…” Rox rambled as she paced.

“About what,” Steven replied.

“It seams that these elves can only make two types of clothes. Gowns made of large drapes of fabric with so many folds, gathers, and layers that I feel like I’m wearing a tent; and skin tight, like wearing a grape skin wrapped in plastic. They have had at me with a set of tailors all afternoon. ‘Try this color, and that. Try this fabric, and that, and this other'.”

Every time Rox quoted the elves, she effected a haughty accent.

“Is this all a bad thing? You always seemed to enjoy shopping before.”

“Yes, for mechanical things, and when I knew what I was in for. What I was after. Here? I have no idea what is wanted of me, or how to go about it.”

“What have they done so far?”

“First it was underwear. Here I am among people I have never met, and they are politely insisting that I strip to my skin. ‘To start with proper foundation.’ Every place I go in this stupid world, they start by stripping me naked. Then they spend hours with me standing right there while they talk right past me. Without letting me leave or cover up. Not to mention measuring me in just about every way imaginable. I don’t think you have ever been that thorough.

“Finally, after nine different bolts each of six kinds of fabric, a little old woman, who stood a head taller than me, comes tottering out with a stack of small, tissue wrapped bundles. They made me six thongs right there, while I stood waiting. The things barely have anything to them, except that they reeked of fresh magic. I’ve used panty liners with more material to them.”

Steven had to bite hard on his tongue. He was half way between asking her to strip, and laughing. If she could gripe about what she usually called ‘feminine supplies,’ not that she used them, and call them specifically by name, she would be fine once her volcano stopped erupting. For now, he just had to listen.

“They all but lifted me up like a child in putting a pair on me. Then they pull a second one out and show me the magic pouches that are in the front and back panels. The things are barely larger than postage stamps, and they are stuffing the five I’m not wearing into the back pouch of the one I am. It was humiliating.”

Roxanne only paced if she had no other outlet for her agitation. Not having her garage or a gym convenient, she had no other outlet right now. The silk dress undulated as she moved, shimmering in the afternoon light, and alternately concealing and revealing her figure.

“Then they just began to throw more fabric all over me. Some was so course I could use it for sandpaper. Some so soft, I was afraid that if I moved it would pull apart like a cobweb. I’d try to say something, and the stuffy elves would just look at me as if I had turned into a fish.”

 “They may as well have taken a mold of me for all the measuring and wrapping they did. And another thing. I don’t think there is one woman on the planet that owns a proper bra, let alone knows what one is. Everything they wrapped me in either outlined me, or otherwise exposed me in some way.”

Steven knew that he was about to put her foot in his mouth, but he had to respond. “Well, I don’t mind that in private. I’ve always said that anything and nothing looked good on you. And that you could out-glamor Garbo, and out-cheesecake Marilyn.”

He stood either to dodge easier, or to wrap her in comfort. “Is a little temporary loss of dignity to big a sacrifice on the altar of aesthetics?” He was calling her bluff, as she rarely went on at length over anything so trivial as clothes or tailors. Nor was she given to high kicks. But Steven blocked this one just off his right shoulder as she pivoted on her left foot, the dress trailing like shimmering clouds.

Steven stepped in and wrapped her in his arms as she regained her footing. “It’ll be all right. Everything will work out.”

Her tears soaked his shoulder, as he held her to him.

As she settled down. Steven started rambling about his own afternoon.

“The ‘specialist’ Verigan came. We sparred. With my sword, I felt like the comparative novice I am, never mind that guy was almost half again my height.”  Steven rubbed her back, the way she liked.

“I took him apart with just my hands, would have made my D.I. proud; but then having his kidneys at my level was almost not fair. I could not really read him, to see whether he was impressed in anything, though.” His left hand still ached from a solid contact where he had slapped the elf’s arm to the floor.

“He looked over my coat and things. His only comment was that I apparently don’t have any armor.” Steven had remembered the first few times in the Marines when his effects had been inspected, and down checked as not yet up to snuff.

“Just before he left, he suggested that the formal from Veradale was tacky, and that I should get a better suit for the meeting day after tomorrow. At least about the suit we agreed.”

This stripped Rox’s emotional gears and struck her sense of humor.

Steven had one last shot. “Caspian said I could use his, and he would go in his skivvies.”

Rox’s tears were overtaken by her laughter as Steven continued to hold her.

071 – Meeting the self-important

Steven found his experience with the local tailors to be just as disagreeable for him as Rox had found for her. On the other hand, Rox was able to assert herself sufficient to get one ‘tasteless’ gown made that she actually liked. She came home with two new gowns, and a few other pieces of clothing.

Journal of Steven Caplan: Day 114

The Tailors here are efficient and capable. But the formal costume they are building for me leaves much to be desired, by my own tastes. I look like a jester. Tomorrow we go before the Clan that seams to be in charge here.

We were told to make a bit of a scene, I presume without getting out of hand.

Caspian says he has magically given us the local language, but it may not last due to the various magic’s in the area interacting. We shall see. At any rate, I can understand the locals for the moment. 

Steven initially had to fight against laughing at their costumes. Rox wore a formal gown that looked made of Elizabethan Motley with a clashing translucent robe. Steven had baggy trousers that ballooned to just below his knees with cloth boots from there, and a crushed velvet vest over a linen shirt, again in colors that he would only have put together on a jester. Caspian was again in his despised formal.

The carriage ride was unremarkable, as they traveled around the mesa to the local equivalent of an office building and shown in. Steven whispered to Rox that the Swiss Guards at the Vatican would fit here without a second look. Rox responded that they would be the conservative looking ones here.

They were shown into a third floor room. The room was wider than it was deep, and on an outside wall. A curved table sat to one side with the windows behind it, facing the doors. The perimeter of the room had deep shadows despite the open plan, and open windows. A bench was set in the focal point of the table, where the three were escorted and allowed to sit.

It was all Steven could do to stifle his amusement at the theater of the situation. Sharlot had wanted a scene caused. Steven could cause one just by laughing at what he saw. Rox felt the weight of the situation how these people, these elves, were an impediment to retrieving her children. Caspian was initially bored, but got himself into gear as he was brought into the room.

Twelve high backed chairs were in asymmetric array around the far side of the table, three were currently empty. Caspian had warned that the pompous windbag sat at the center. The spare chair on the far left was the clerk, and therefore of slightly less importance than the rest.

The elves in their seats were back lit and had some what of a harsh shadow obscuring their features and dress. As Steven's eyes adjusted, he could see that there were more males than females, that they were in similar styles of costume to what he and his wife wore, and that they were all taller and some obviously heavier in comparative build than he was.

The clerk started the audience. “Mage, these are the parents of the Children of Prophecy, brought before us as we instructed?”

Steven did not let Caspian answer, but this was prearranged. He stood and spoke.

“I am Steven Phillip Caplan, Husband to Roxanne Clarice Caplan, Father to Diana and Alexander. What is it you want of us, that you delay us in retrieving our children?”

The pompous windbag spoke first. “We want your children safely returned to your care and to know that they are being raised to their proper destiny. You may sit down, human. Our Daughter, we understand that you have magical talent, it this true?”

Rox had thought about being as flamboyant as her costume, but instead chose to be her usual self. “Yeah, it is. But having only the last months to work with it, I am not certain what I am capable of. The Mage tells me that I have surprised him on several occasions.”

“This is all nice and well, Pervical, but that is just passing time.” Sharlot interjected from halfway between the center and the clerk. “We need to hear the report on what has been found surrounding the monarchs of Krogg. Mallob that was your responsibility.”

Another elf, from the other side of the table spoke. “Our overall information is limited, as the current monarchs have made a concerted effort during their reign to control information about themselves. We have learned that when they were wed approximately thirty years ago, there was a prophecy made that prompted the execution of the voice if it. Our records of what it says are third hand at best, and incomplete. We have learned, as the Mage said his sources report, that the children will play a roll in the violent succession of these monarchs. To this end, they have apparently sought to take control of these children’s lives. Our investigators are still working in the archives, and have sent to Krogg, to investigate further.”

Pervical, the pompous windbag sitting in the center, spoke. “So we can barely confirm what the mage has alleged, regarding the motives of Krogg. I still maintain that this is of lesser importance.”

Steven countered this. “Perhaps to you, but as the father of those kidnapped, it is nice to know that there is at least some kind of rational reason for this nightmare. How would you like your children kidnapped and not even know why, let alone where, or if you would ever see them again?”

Pervical’s oily tone in his response rubbed all the fur the wrong way. “The prophecies about the Chaos Bringer cycle, and its harbingers are relatively common knowledge to any even remotely versed in their history. That it happens to coincide with other happenings is hardly a surprise, as life continues.”

A female to Sharlot’s right responded to this. “If you happen to live in the right community. Go off this mountain, and you find that there are many such things as local prophecies that simply are not talked about or disseminated to outsiders, whether it be simply community to community, or world to world.”

Pervical was not going to be lectured to about his provincialism or preconceived stereotypes. “The point at hand is not what was prophesied by whom, when, or about what. It is about getting the Harbingers of the Chaos Bringer trained and ready to face it once it arrives.”

“You are talking about my children, then?” Steven interjected.

Pervical ignored Steven. “I am aware that the mood of this council is to provide any and all help to Our Daughter and her paramour, to retrieve their children. I have never had any argument against reasonable measures.”

Sharlot interrupted him. “No, you just want to keep them here, to personally oversee their growth to maturity. Rasgan, you are the one in charge of that. What have you got set up?”

Pervical agreed. “Yes, to see that they are trained as befits elves, from the earliest possible moment.”

Sharlot stabbed again. “And the parents can be returned to their home.”

Pervical answered this. “Yes, when they are ready to.”

“And if this is before the children are fully trained, the children will remain as the parents leave. Just as the conscripts of our own military are compelled to.”

“It’s for the best.”

Rox and Steven stood up, Steven a beat ahead. “Excuse me Humber Shroober, but NO! Roxanne and I will be taking OUR children Home!”

They were both at the center of every ones attention. Several elves were stifling giggles. Neither Steven nor Rox knew why; Steven dismissed the giggles and kept going.

“I thank you for your help, and all you will yet do to further this cause. But let me say one thing clearly. I am going to get my children back, and I am going to take them back to my house, where my wife and I will raise them. You can help, or stand aside. But I will not allow you to take them from me.”

Later Steven would recognize that this was exactly the scene that Sharlot wanted made.

As it was, the elves were alternately regaining control of their giggles, or sitting in stony offended pride.

After a moment, a male elf from Pervical’s left spoke. “Well, we see that they have the passion necessary to accomplish the task. It appears that they are ignorant of any kind of prophecy and don’t have much care of acting within or without its constraints. Personally, I would just as soon let them get about their parental business, and provide them with whatever help we can.”

Steven and Rox sat back down as the rest politely ceded the conversation to the new speaker.

“My agent has tested and evaluated Steven Phillip, and his equipment. His opinion is that the skills are in place, but some of his equipment is not up to the task of dealing with any magic that he may encounter in his travels. Another agent familiar with Krogg reports that the monarchs there have some fearsome magic to augment their skills. However they have not been on the battlefield in some time. The conclusion is that some replacement equipment is required. Further I have asked Mallob for information of such magical items native to this world as might be useful. He has yet to provide the list, but I trust his office will in reasonable time.”

Mallob answered. “Yes. We are still compiling that list. I was told they expect to have it complete by this afternoon.”

“Good. Steven Phillip, we will cull the list, and present you with what we believe is the best option in private discussion.”

Sharlot took up the point. “And Roxanne?”

This was answered by the person sitting farthest from the clerk. “We are still working out a schedule. We should be ready to proceed this afternoon, if she will be so kind as to return.”

Roxanne stood. “I will.” She sat.

Sharlot continued. “Good. Cuinton what is the evaluation of the traveling gear. Is it acceptable, or can we provide anything?”

Steven stood at this. “Most of it is acceptable. But there are some modifications or alterations that could be made.”

Before he could continue, and knowing that this was not the time or place, he yielded the floor.

The elf that had restarted things after Steven’s standing down of Pervical answered. “Arrangements can be made to provide whatever is desired, so long as there is sufficient communication.”

Steven wished, not for the first time, that the chairs were not back lit, so that he could actually see the faces and details of the elves seated before him.

The elf seated next to the clerk spoke.  “And what of cost? A handful of outfits for those of such size as these are is but a pittance and hardly missed in the budget. But suits of armor and the labor cost for them can be considerable. Not that I expect to outfit these in plate armor, I simply need to know what the costs are anticipated to be. We already owe the Mage a considerable sum.”

Pervical answered this. “Faxeld, it was decided before we started this that the cost would be born. Whatever it was. To their credit, Our Daughter and her paramour apparently understand the value of things generally and are frugal in their doings. I do not expect that they will change and spend us into penury.”

Before anyone else could bring up something Pervical stood. “Is there anything else to be discussed at this time? Then we are done.”

u
� h���s�f aesthetics?” He was calling her bluff, as she rarely went on at length over anything so trivial as clothes or tailors. Nor was she given to high kicks. But Steven blocked this one just off his right shoulder as she pivoted on her left foot, the dress trailing like shimmering clouds.

Steven stepped in and wrapped her in his arms as she regained her footing. “It’ll be all right. Everything will work out.”

Her tears soaked his shoulder, as he held her to him.

As she settled down. Steven started rambling about his own afternoon.

“The ‘specialist’ Verigan came. We sparred. With my sword, I felt like the comparative novice I am, never mind that guy was almost half again my height.”  Steven rubbed her back, the way she liked.

“I took him apart with just my hands, would have made my D.I. proud; but then having his kidneys at my level was almost not fair. I could not really read him, to see whether he was impressed in anything, though.” His left hand still ached from a solid contact where he had slapped the elf’s arm to the floor.

“He looked over my coat and things. His only comment was that I apparently don’t have any armor.” Steven had remembered the first few times in the Marines when his effects had been inspected, and down checked as not yet up to snuff.

“Just before he left, he suggested that the formal from Veradale was tacky, and that I should get a better suit for the meeting day after tomorrow. At least about the suit we agreed.”

This stripped Rox’s emotional gears and struck her sense of humor.

Steven had one last shot. “Caspian said I could use his, and he would go in his skivvies.”

Rox’s tears were overtaken by her laughter as Steven continued to hold her.

072 – Aftermath Of One Meeting, Start Of Another

The other assembled elves stood, and several of them filed out. Steven, Roxanne, and Caspian also stood.

Sharlot, Cuinton, and Mallob all came around the table and approached.

Cuinton was an older male elf, slightly stooped in age, his face full of laugh lines and crows feet, and with the airs of one perpetually discovering delights in new things. Mallob, also an older male, had the airs of an academic more at home in a pile of books than among people; he looked to still be barely containing his mirth. Sharlot was shorter than both of them.

Sharlot spoke first, watching the door close behind Pervical. “Thank you, Steven. By standing up to Pervical, you may have just put him into required agreement with the rest of us.”

Steven inclined his head. “You are welcome. So what actually happens now? Rox comes back later this afternoon. What about myself, and Caspian?”

Cuinton answered this. “First, I need to get that list, and compare it to what we know of Krogg, and make the best decision we can. My agent has told me that you are acceptable, if locally unorthodox in your use of a sword. If it is alright, we will look in that direction for you. As for other equipment, I have to ask around a bit to see who is willing to help and available. That will take a day or two, which is about all the time we have. Then I will send word and you will be able to get whatever you want or need done. Do know this; it is observed that you travel light: if that is your preference, than by all means do not let us over encumber you with useless toys.”

Mallob took the conversation. “Young human, where did you learn that epitaph?”

Steven had to think a moment. “Humber Shroober? I think I got it from Roxanne’s grandmother, Merilyn. Why do you ask?”

Mallob chuckled. “Because I have not heard it in ages. I think it was in this room when your progenitor, Rodira, stormed out, young lady. She called Pervical that after he refused to allow her to marry her human lover.”

Sharlot laughed some and Cuinton guffawed.

Mallob continued. “Come to think of it, about half of the council was here then. As they argued Pervical was trying to assert his right as the father of her betrothed, and she would not have any of it. She had already refused to be in the same room as her betrothed.”

Sharlot finished the story. “She had anticipated something like what happened. She stormed out of here, picked up a bag of what she was taking with, and left the city. Pervical tried to follow. She teleported right out of his sight, and never came back. I saw her twice after that. Once at her wedding, and once at the ring when she and her paramour left the planet. She altered her appearance to that of a human shortly after leaving here. Pervical tried to collect any trace to use to follow her, but she had destroyed nearly all of it before she left.”

Caspian spoke for the first time since entering the room. “Then how did you make the trackers given to me?”

Sharlot smiled. “I said nearly all. I had a lock of hair. Rodira made me swear not to give it to our parents. I never told anyone I had it, until it was determined that you needed to be found, Roxanne.”

Roxanne had spent the whole time looking between Sharlot and Cuinton. At the mention of her name she rejoined the conversation. “You two look similar. How are you related?”

Cuinton’s eyes sparkled as he spoke. “I am her uncle. A word of advice: Do not bother seeking out my brother or his wife. They make Pervical look hospitably agreeable.”

Steven wanted to have the unfinished story finished. “What happened to the betrothed, Pervical’s son?”

The three elves looked at anything else, poker faced.

Steven provoked them. “Well?”

Faxeld, who had walked up behind Cuinton, dryly answered the question. “He was mated to my cousin, whom he had already impregnated. Pervical sent them out of the city in shame. They live on the far side of the continent, happy to be away from the meddling of their respective families, at last report.”

Caspian broke out laughing, and had to lean on his staff for balance.

The scandalized elves turned to Faxeld, who stood shorter than the other elves, only a head and little taller than Steven, and carried a large ledger book. He also wore spectacles, for reading, on the tip of his nose.

“Master Cuinton, I would like a moment of your time, before you return to your office.” Faxeld then strode off.

The meeting dismissed, they left to their duties. Steven and Roxanne gathered up the still chuckling Caspian, and went to find lunch.

The new elfin dress fit better than anything Roxanne had ever owned before in her life. It flowed and conformed to her body as if it were liquid poured over her rather than being cloth and it shimmered like liquid. The various blues in the dress accented and complimented her looks orders of magnitude better than the morning’s motley. Steven was speechless when she showed him. The tailors thought it tasteless, but after appealing to their dislike of Clan Leader Pervical, they relented. After having her hair tended to and a light bit of make-up applied, Rox then went to the afternoon clan meeting as she had been bidden.

She found a carriage waiting outside the hotel. This took her to the Clan offices. The elfin word escaped her, but it translated to something close to office. A young elf female just a little taller than she was greeted Rox, as she lighted from the carriage. Were it a car, Roxanne would have just gotten out, but one does not just ‘get out’ of a carriage.

The female elf led her into the building, through a mezzanine, and to the doors leading to Councilor Sharlot’s office. Two guards stood by the hallway doors staring at the far wall, but seeing everything in front of them. Their red motley dress clashed with her blue, but that was not her worry. The young elf left her there, saying for her to stay here until called for, and disappeared.

Roxanne stood there for close to half an hour, before the doors were opened from the inside. She was about to go inside when one of the guards blocked the way with his pole arm. So she stood back and waited. The pole arm retracted. Some functionaries filed out of the room, and scattered down the halls. She was then announced. She took a hesitant step, but no pole arm blocked her path. So she put on her best confidence and strode in to the room. Rox thought she made a good unpretentious entrance.

“So, this is our ‘lost daughter’.”

Rox did not recognize the male voice, but did not like the attitude she heard in it. She stepped forward into a conference room, dominated by a table in the middle, with chairs along either side. Eight elves, both male and female, were seated on either side looking like players ready to enter a scrum, with Rox as the ball. Each senior elf had a junior Assistant who had a folio open before them, with a pen, inkwell, and blotter nearby. A clerk sat off the far end of the table, taking notes, and appeared to be otherwise not involved.

‘These are the friendly ones,’ though Rox. There was not a chair at the end, so she stood at it, looking around. The size difference was enough that she felt like a child looking up at a table of adults. There was a stand at the end of the table, which Rox stepped up onto. Sharlot sat at the far end, on Rox’s left, then her assistant, a younger male; then Faxeld with his books on the table before him, and his clerk, she sat at Rox’s immediate left, and looked as pinched and stone-faced as Sharlot was open. On her immediate right was another male assistant, then Rasgan with a notebook that he scribbled in with a pencil, Mallob sat to his right with another female assistant sitting opposite Sharlot.

Sharlot evidently chaired the meeting, and started in. “Thank you for coming Roxanne. You look nice, the color is very flattering. Now then, Rasgan, you have been scribbling on your schedule since lunch. What have you come to?”

Rasgan did not look up, but spoke as he sorted his writing. “Well, of the four available tutors, only one is willing to have anything to do with ‘an unlearned half-breed’.”

They spoke in the elf-local language, which Rox could still hear and comprehend clearly, but was having increasing trouble articulating smoothly. Rox had a brief epiphany, as she heard a word that caught her attention. Her court discipline held her in check, but now she knew where ‘schwaer’ possibly came from. It was the derisive elf-language word for ‘half-breed’ with related meanings drawn from ‘excrement.’

Rasgan continued. “I have been arranging Master Iver’s schedule, after consulting with all involved, to send his normal students to the other instructors, allowing Master Iver to give as much time as necessary to Roxanne. He will have time tomorrow morning to evaluate Roxanne’s skill and ability level. From there he can better set up what training he will need to provide.”

Rasgan looked up from his scribbling, and at Roxanne. “Is that acceptable, young one?”

For a moment, Rox was going to take offense at ‘young one,’ then remembered that Rasgan was probably an order of magnitude older than herself, and by his look, the oldest at the table.

Setting her pride aside, Rox nodded. “Yes, sir. I will meet with Master Iver tomorrow morning. Is there any preparation for this?”

Rasgan turned back to his notebook, as his clerk seated between himself and Rox started scratching at his book.

“No. I will send a coach that will take you to Master Iver’s. Dress comfortably, as you would for your daily activities. Not in this formal . . . stuff.”

Sharlot moved things along. “Very good. We will be partially at Master Iver’s whims. Moving along. Since Master Cuinton could not join us, I expect you are delegated his information, Master Mallob?”

Mallob looked slightly board. “Yes, madam-chair. Master Cuinton is arranging for each of the Caplan’s to be taken to appropriate outfitters. So as not to overtax any one shop, Roxanne is to be taken to Master Eklund, and Steven to Master Mundrl.”

Rox noticed that Faxeld looked very interested in this.

Mallob continued. “The masters have already been informed, and are willing to help. Roxanne can walk to Master Eklund’s after Master Iver is done with her tomorrow, as their establishments are in proximity. Steven is being sent on a task tomorrow, and upon his completion and return will then be taken to Master Mundrl. It is expected that final equipment and materials will be determined by the masters in working directly with the Caplan’s.”

Faxeld spoke up at this point.

“The masters have been told that they are to operate on an open account, but to be circumspect in what costs they accrue. Pervical and several of the others are already complaining about the costs of this.”

He let this float above the table for a moment.