084 – Steven Among The Academics

Journal of Steven Caplan: Day 118

At least this sword is not a Red Herring marked blade. Rox used one of those back in Veradale, for carving up fish.

Upon their return, the jeweler had the funds on hand to buy all the jewelry, they will separate the steel and gold rings, and melt and press the gold to local coin size, which will be given to them. He will keep the steel as the part of the price for his labor.

The Caplan’s walked out with a significant bag of coins of assorted types.

Their carriage dropped Roxanne at the outfitters for another brief session of fitting. She would then walk to Master Iver’s for more training. Thus would be her day. The carriage then continued to the hotel to drop Steven and Caspian off. Verigan was waiting when they arrived, and went in with them. Cyrril flew off as soon as Caspian saw the elf.

Verigan’s slight blue tinge and tall mohawk set him apart from the average populace; his skin was lighter and almost human in tone, while his mohawk was kept about twice as long as average, the sides clean shaved. His usual silks were closer to the human standard color pallet than the local motley.

Steven was to present the sword to Cuinton and Mallob to be sure it was what was desired.

Steven left his money with the hotel concierge, and got a receipt for it. In his room, he gathered the sword, the parchment book, the scroll in the wooden tube and the scroll he kept wrapped in a cloth, and put these into his bag. Verigan and Caspian waited patiently. Steven wondered whether Caspian was invited. Whether he was or not, he had self-invited and was coming.

Verigan hailed a passing carriage and they went into the center area of the upper tier of the city. Verigan led them up the front stairs of the building into the main annex and then into a side hall and up to a third floor and into an area that looked to Steven to be a cross between a library and office building.

Again the scale of things was larger than Steven was used to, but growing accustomed to here. Against his expectations the shelves were of various heights, almost too close for comfort, full of bound books, scrolls, and piles of papers, and were apparently used as the dividers of the working areas. Verigan led them along a main corridor past the areas, each with a table staffed by males and females poring over documents. At the end of the corridor, against the outer wall was a larger area with three parallel tables making three islands of activity in the area, with shelves all the way around this area. Verigan took them to the table to the right, where Steven recognized Mallob and Cuinton among the gathering. As Verigan approached, the gathering involving these two broke and two younger females and three younger males picked up papers and books and departed. Several other elves hung around in the background, watching and waiting.

Cuinton, the darker colored of the two, stood a bit stooped with age. Yet he stood as tall as Mallob who was built heavier than his companion. Cuinton turned and leaned against the table with several papers and books scattered across it, as Mallob turned to greet Steven. Verigan moved past and went around the table, pulled a stool out and sat down.

“Welcome,” Mallob greeted the men speaking in Caspian’s native language. “We trust this is the sword of the Nydecia Kings.”

Steven put the sword down on the polished stone top table between some books and piles of papers, and then put his backpack on top of it. He unloaded the scrolls and parchment as he spoke.

“I hope so. It was the only serviceable sword I could fine. There were a few buried with their apparent owner. However this sword came with a bit of a vision, which led to a hidden safe that contained this sheaf of parchment, and some seals that I left behind.”

Steven pulled the parchment last, and presented it to Mallob. “My best guess is that this is the genealogy of the royal line of that place you sent me.”

Steven handed the wooden scroll over to Caspian. “Open this carefully. I think it is a scroll that lists the same genealogy in better detail.”

Steven then took the cloth wrapped scroll and removed the shirt he had wrapped around the gilded scroll case, and carefully put the case down. Then he stuffed the shirt into his backpack.

“I found the scrolls in a storage room in the church attached to the fortress. This one was the only one put separate from the others.”

Mallob was leafing through the parchment as Caspian pulled the fragile scroll out. Verigan opened the gilded case. It hinged in two lines opening to show the scroll within, the outer two pieces of the case holding the rods that the scroll wound around.

“I can’t read any of this particular script, but recognize the alphabet.” Mallob put the parchment down.

“I can have it translated. Is it important to you?”

Steven shook his head. “No, not really. To me the best they could be called is a bunch of guys that died before anybody I know was probably born, on a planet I did not even know existed until I arrived on it. But it might be useful for your records. It struck my fancy. But the gilded scroll, there, has my interest. I expect it is the local scriptures, or holy book, or what ever the local word is.”

Steven pulled a stool out and climbed onto it.

Verigan carefully slid the scroll over to Cuinton. The older elf rolled the scroll back and forth carefully, and then paused to read. He spoke in a language Steven did not recognize.

When he stopped, Mallob spoke first. “Have that translated, a copy brought back here, a copy for storage, and three sent to the church. If they want the scroll, we will turn it over per the usual process.”

Caspian beat Steven to the punch. “What was just read?”

“A version of the Chaos Bringer prophecies,” Cuinton answered, as he handed the scroll over to a runner. “The difference is this reads as a copy of the original text, rather than a commentary given by another writer. I am passingly familiar, but it has been some time since I read the original.”

Steven was a bit impressed.

Cuinton looked at Steven. “May we see the sword?”

Steven turned and moved his bag and moved the sword hilt first over to the old elf.

Cuinton picked the sword up, cradling the hilt while holding the blade. Steven had not yet polished or sharpened it, but he had wiped the loose stuff off. As he had handled it he judged from its hardness that the crossbar and pommel were bronze, not gold. The wire in its grip was a tight braid of steel and gold inlayed into the knurled ivory. The double edged blade still had some discoloring from the leather it had rested in, that Steven intended to polish off, but had not yet taken time to bother with.

Cuinton turned to an aid, which stood up and stepped forward. Cuinton spoke in the local language and the aid moved off quickly.

“He sent the aid for some oil and alcohol to wipe the blade down.” Caspian said this to Steven, and then directed his attention up to the older elf. “What do you hope to see, sir?”

“We found a description of this sword that said it had some letters very lightly etched into its blade. It would have been useless to tell you before now: We only found it yesterday, and just as you cannot read the script on these books you brought back, you might not have seen them on the sword.”

Cuinton put the sword down and looked at Mallob. “While we wait for this, let us move on to informing the young man of what we have found since we talked to his paramour.”

Mallob nodded, and drew a pile of papers to him. He looked it over. “We talked with Roxanne some about the last Chaos Bringer, and what we had gathered about Krogg’s motivations. How much did she tell you?”

“Some. I had other things on my mind at the time,” Steven answered.

Steven then explained all he knew, and where he knew from it. He mentioned all that Caspian had told him; he filled in from what he had picked up from the things he had heard from the meeting he had participated in; he filled in from what Rox had reported. Steven then summarized. He knew Krogg wanted his kids for their own reasons, which he was still unclear on, and had sent the caravan, to go kidnap his kids and return them to Krogg. That Pervical wanted the kids for his own reasons, among these fears over the Chaos Bringer, and his desire to train Diana and Alex to be able to combat this Chaos Bringer. Now he and Rox were racing the clock to get properly trained and equipped and to Krogg before something dire happened to the kids.

Mallob inscrutably listened. When Steven concluded, he nodded, and looked over the sheet he held. He put it down and shuffled through the papers in the pile.

“There are a few other things we have found, from disparate sources. Most of it is reading that only the truly devout can tolerate without dozing off. We have cataloged a few overall themes. Would you like to hear them?”

Steven shrugged. Caspian leaned against the table.

Mallob glanced at Cuinton who motioned for him to continue. “From our own records: A fourth generation half-elf, parenting two fifth generation half-elves. The kids will be descended from one of our clans. And they will be born on ‘the foot stool of the Messiah.’”

Mallob paused. “That is an interesting title. It only appears a few times, and always in relation to the Anointed Lamb of God.”

Steven was not moved. He was well read in his bible; even if he did not attend any denomination. “It’s not a surprise. My home planet is called that a few times in our own scriptures. Do you need the meaning, or shall we go on.”

Mallob went on. “It is self evident, if one knows his scriptures. One last thing unique from our own sources: the Chaos Bringer will be a child of incest.”

That got a little attention, but only in the realm of distaste.

Mallob put that sheet down, and picked up another. “Both Light and Dark forces will be present, around the harbingers. The two children are harbingers of the Chaos Bringer; we have been over that. . .  Here we go . . . this is from a human kingdom. ‘The common interpretation is if the parents are unable to keep the children, then it is presumed that the Chaos-Bringer will be born to the children, when they are of age. If the parents are able to hold on to the children, they will be leaders for good.’ There is a bit more about if they are good they will not be the parents.”

Steven perked up at this. “Sounds like something to tell Humber Shroober.”

Cuinton agreed. “Indeed. But I doubt it will sway him. Right now, it is simply yielding to the majority that he is not being more tyrannical.”

Mallob continued, as he ran his finger down the sheet. “In the life span of these fifth generation half-elves the Chaos Bringer will be born. That is from an eastern kingdom. Evil hopes to control the harbingers in a bid to control the Chaos Bringer. That is from an elf up north. . .”

Mallob ran his finger over the sheet, and looked over a few others. “Everything else that I have appears to have been covered one way or another.”

“I have a little,” Caspian spoke up. “I don’t have my notes but I recall that the Chaos Bringer will be able to travel to several worlds, but never the ‘foot stool of the Messiah.’ But he/she might be able to cause trouble there, if the time is right, and the kids don’t stop him/her first.”

Steven listened to this. “Fun. So my kids have a bit of excitement in their futures; immediate and long term. Rox will want to hear this.”

Steven looked at the papers Mallob had. “Are those in your local script?”

“Yes.”

“Can I take them to let Rox read them?”

“Yes. These are my personal notes. She can give them to Master Iver. I will get them from him.”

085 – Of Swords And Equipment

Shortly the aid returned with two bottles and some rags. Several of the papers and books were moved and piled aside. Cuinton took a rag, opened one bottle, put the rag over the opening and splashed a bit onto the rag. He handed the bottle back to his aid, which closed it and put it on the table. He picked up the sword and started at the hilt wiping the grime and scabbard residue from it.

Steven could see that he probably would not get all the staining off the metal, but the blade was soon cleaner, and the surface features caught the light. Steven could see some of the grain of the metal.

Cuinton cleaned both sides, for about halfway from the crossbar to the tip. The rag was put aside and another used to wipe the alcohol off. Then he used the first rag with the second bottle, this was evidently a light oil that left a sheen on the blade. Cuinton stepped over by the window, Steven and Mallob following.

He held the blade in the light, letting it glint off the surface features, and examined it. He soon stopped. Then he called out short words in language that Steven did not recognize.

Cuinton finished and handed the sword back to Steven. He then moved back to where another aid was writing and comparing to another written document. The two elves conferred in their own language.

Steven held the sword in the light, and was quickly able to see a series of characters that ran along beside one fuller. These were a different color from the rest of the steel of the blade.

Finally Cuinton turned back to Steven. “I believe that is the sword we selected for you. From the history we have of if, it should serve you well.”

“How so?” Steven vaguely remembered Verigan saying something about this, but was focused on other things at the time.

Cuinton picked up a sheet of paper and looked it over. “The wielder of the sword apparently ‘could not be touched by magic. It is described as being a straight two-edge sword, simple crossbar, wire wrapped grip'.”

He put the sheet down. “It looks like the wielder of this sword has some protection against magic. Its history is that the first recorded wielder used it to win the kingdom of Nydecia. It was then passed down the line of kings, defending the kingdom, and expanding it a little from time to time.”

Cuinton picked up another sheet. “This is from another source: the sword with have the characters 'TI=SO+ND' inlayed on one side. Which we have just found.”

The old elf moved on to other information. “From what we have learned about the rulers of Krogg, this will be a good tool for you. The queen has some kind of magic bargain, and has not been seen in public in years, but is known to still be alive. The king used magic imbued armor and other tools to preserve his life on the battlefield, but has not been reported on the field in some years. There are reported to be several casters of assorted flavors in their employ.”

“My wife encountered one of them,” Steven interjected.

“So,” Cuinton continued. “We do not know all the facts. But have given you all we have at the moment. Now, I understand you are due at Master Mundrl’s as soon as you can get there, whether this afternoon or in the morning tomorrow.”

“Yes, I am.”

“Very good. He and his family are well skilled, and will be good for you. Now, unless you have something else for me, I have other business to be about.”

Steven considered. “No. There is not anything I can think of.”

The old elf nodded to Mallob, gathered his notes, and then turned and left; his three aids who had been in attendance following. One paused long enough to retrieve the bottles and rags that had been used on the sword.

As Steven reviewed the meeting that evening to Roxanne, he presented Mallob’s notes. As soon as Steven finished his report, she took the notes aside to the window and began to read them in the late afternoon light.

After briefly marveling at being able to recognize and read the elf alphabet, she settled into reading and sorting the information out.

Steven got the sword out, and the two bottles he had acquired on his way home. The first was white alcohol, with which he rubbed the blade down. With some patient work he had most of the discoloring off of the blade and all of the residue. Then he worked over the hilt, being careful not to let the alcohol soak into the ivory. When finished he put the closed alcohol bottle aside and opened the second bottle. This had light oil that he rubbed into all the metal components of the sword. The oil rubbed into the blade, causing the darker grain to be more visibly distinct from the lighter grain. He also could see the pattern of the characters that looked stamped into the blade between the fuller and the edge on one side. The bronze did not soak in the oil as quickly but did take in some. Steven carefully rubbed oil into the crisscrossed wire wrapped around the ivory.

Just as Steven carefully worked the sword over, Rox carefully digested the notes she read.

Steven put the sword aside on a chamois, then left and quickly returned with a cart with dinner for the two of them.

As they ate Rox reviewed the notes with Steven. She would read the notes in the written language, translate it to English, and then they would discuss it at length. Their discussion came down to one topic that Mallob had sprinkled in comments through out the notes. How would all this be resolved? The largest hole in information was what the real motivation of Krogg was.

As they talked about this, Steven wrote things down in his journal. Roxanne came to a realization about a way to ‘force’ things to swift conclusion. The bad guys in Krogg wanted the kids and would keep coming back for them. So, do not wait for the bad guys to come again, rather go hunting for them. But would the kids be ready?

Roxanne reviewed the available notes, retranslating them for Steven, and explained what she was comprehending them to say. Then she told Steven that depending on what they found in Krogg, she wanted to get the kids, and then go confront the Warlord and Queen, and hope that the kids can win, rather than run and hide until they are adults.

Steven listened to this, and did not like it. He just wanted to get the kids and go home. Since they do not have the full understanding of Krogg’s pieces of this puzzle, they would have to hold off a final decision. In the mean time Steven had his appointments with his outfitter, Rox was to finish with hers, and continue her magic lessons. Once both outfitters were done, and Master Iver was happy with her abilities, they would be on their way.

Journal of Steven Caplan: Day 119

Rox has been learning magic and occasionally visiting her outfitter. Now I get to get my costume reworked. There are a few things I would change if I had the means. The question is can I communicate what I would like to change things to effectively?

Steven had finished eating and cleaning up breakfast when the elf came for him. It was not Verigan.

“I am here to take you to be outfitted. Don all your gear, and come with me.” The tall elf just stood by the door, passively waiting.

Steven quickly turned to, pulled on his vest and belt, shouldered his crossbow, and picked up his coat and pack with bedroll, then followed the elf out. Outside the hotel they climbed into a waiting coach. Steven settled into his seat putting his bedroll and bag, coat, and crossbow on the seat next to him, and adjusted his sword's position so he wasn’t sitting on it. The elf watched with passive interest, like many officers that Steven remembered from years ago.

They moved through the morning traffic and into the market district. The coach slowed as it moved through the crowd. Steven watched, curious at the activity. He felt that the markets he had seen were much like open-air malls, but with the sellers actively hawking their goods.

The coach pulled up to a shop on the side that Steven was not watching.

“We are here.” The elf moved to the door as it opened from the outside.

Steven grabbed his things by their straps and climbed out. As he stepped onto the dusty cobblestones of the sidewalk, Steven looked up at the sign. The script was unreadable, but the writing looked plain, and relatively unadorned. The sign was stained embossed leather over wood, the meaning was later apparent.

The elf moved forward, Steven following in his wake. They moved through the door as an attendant held it. Steven entered the shop unsure of what he would find, and feeling a bit self-conscious; both from his being in full kit, and being the shortest adult there.

Half the shop looked like a cross between a leather and cloth shop; furs and tanned leathers on tables and rolled up in shelves arrayed like wine racks. Bolts and rolls of fabric were somewhat intermixed in the middle of the area, and filled one entire rack. Six female elves with young children in tow were conversing over one of the tables of material. The other half to the shop looked like a condensed and abbreviated version of an outdoor equipment and outfitters shop, with bits and pieces of all sorts of stuff on the shelves and in bins. For all this, the front room looked a little more than sixty feet wide to his left and twenty feet deep from the door in the corner. To the right by the door was a counter where a petite female elf, taller than Steven, was minding the cash box and books.

Steven’s escort barely noticed her as he glided straight to the back and through the rear entry to a room of equal size, though oriented deeper than it was wide. On Steven’s right were changing booths along the wall with high windows above them. A work table and stool stood on the left, with shelves lining the walls, floor to ceiling; Steven estimated about sixteen feet up. A ladder stood to one side against a shelf. Another elf walked in from the opposite door, a young elf who was evidently his son in tow. Both were dressed for utility, with a chamois apron over silk shirts, linen trousers and leather shoes.

The two adult elves conversed quickly, the escort motioning to Steven. The boy was about a hand span shorter than Steven, but looked like he was in his early teens. The adults finished and turned to face him, the escort addressing him.

“This is Master Mundrl. He is to outfit you properly, for much of what you carry is deemed unsuitable for what lies ahead for you. As he does not speak any language you know, I will remain as interpreter. Now, please empty all your pockets, pouches and so forth onto the table, including unsheathing all your weapons, and unrolling your bedroll.”

Steven was not sure about the unsuitability of things, but was not yet ready to argue.

First he put the bedroll onto the table. Used to tables at just below belt level, he felt a bit awkward reaching for one that was almost at chest level. But he quickly filled the area of it with stuff from his pack and vest. First he unrolled the blankets, and put his larger things down into them. Next he emptied his pack, pulling out the change of clothes; this included several sets of socks and underwear, his own and the two sets for his kids. Two swords were put down on the end of the blankets, one with a leather scabbard and belt. Several knives and various implements for equipment care went next to these. His coat, gloves and hat were put down beside the bedroll. In the middle of the blankets Steven put down his tinderbox, and all the toys from Terra; a leatherman, his camera with two rolls of the film used, the third roll a bit more than a third done, his binoculars, mess kit, and so forth. Some pebbles, twigs and leaves fell out and got brushed aside as things were opened up and set out. This left Steven standing in his trousers, shirt, and boots.

086 – Of Aristocratic Elves And Bourgeois Elves

The boy had disappeared, while Master Mundrl and Steven’s escort were sorting through his clothes. They put his underwear aside, discarded his worn socks into a separate pile, and were going over his BDU trousers. They looked at the setup with the pockets and storm flaps pulling a bandanna from a pocket, jabbering to each other in their tongue. Then the escort turned to Steven, translating.

“You carry things in your thigh pockets?”

“Gloves, bandanna, other soft things.” Steven answered.

The elves jabbered a bit more, as the trousers were turned inside out and the Master examined the seams. The translator spoke a bit more.

“Do you kick much in your fighting? Crawl around, or stretch your legs wide?”

“I don’t kick much, but full movement at my hips is good.”

This was relayed as the trousers were put aside. The costume from the Palace was glanced over, and then put on top of the discarded socks. The rest of his clothes were looked over, but little asked of. Most of his actual gear was ignored, but his leatherman got a few moments of play before being put back down. Then his vest was all but ripped apart as every pocket and seam was examined.

The boy had returned with a notepad and his father, Master Mundrl, began jabbering at him as the boy recorded. Then the two adults jabbered.

“Do you find the vest and pack acceptable?”

“How do you mean? I’m used to it. Everything is where I expect it.”

The adults jabbered, as the Master continued to inspect the vest, hefting it and testing its openings.

“Does it repel water? Does it dry quickly?”

“Parts of it act as a sponge. But it is tolerable.”

Master Mundrl stopped as this was relayed. He then put the vest on the pile with the suit and socks. He examined the pack inside and out, removing the water bladder in the process and setting it back down when done. The Master then spoke through the other elf to Steven.

“Is the pack as tolerable as the vest?”

“Yes, but I would have brought a different one, had I known what I was getting into.”

This elicited a rapid back and forth that Steven correctly guessed the generals of. Steven interrupted it, with a wild idea that came completely out of the blue into his mind.

“I presume that this is the discard pile. And what’s here is to be replaced. If I could get the pack I would prefer, what would happen?”

The escort translated this. The Master looked from the escort to Steven, and back, and then spoke a staccato of words. They went back and forth for a bit, and then stopped. The escort stayed quiet. Steven had no clear idea about elfin gestures and expressions, but guessed that his escort was frustrated and feeling put upon. The escort then spoke, making a swirling motion with his hands. Master Mundrl beamed.

The escort turned to Steven. “I will need to tell my clan leader. How fast could you do your merchandising were you sent home?”

“I would guess one, maybe two days.”

The escorts look darkened, as the other beamed and picked up the old sword. He inspected it, mumbling to the boy, who filled a page on his stack of notes just about the sword. The other sword was next, the scabbard dismissed as serviceable, but obviously not made by a craftsman.

A question was relayed. “Do you intend to keep and use this sword?”

“Keep? Yes. Use? Doubtful, if the older one is better.”

The crossbow and its bag for bolts were looked over and moved on from with little comment.

Steven interjected, picking the weapon up. “This is small for me.  Could I find one bigger? I have not been anywhere that I could wait for one to be made, before arriving here. Nor have I really had time to shop here for one.”

Steven shouldered the weapon as he was want to, and then moved his hands to where he would prefer, moving the weapon off his shoulder, and his front hand off the stock to slightly in front of the bow.

The translator made no effort to provide any input. The Master looked thoughtful, and the son just made notes. After a moment, Steven put the crossbow back down.

The rest of the stuff was sorted and finally the bedroll exposed. It was the only part of the kit that Steven felt any embarrassment about. He pulled it apart, keeping 2 blankets as the third was immediately put in discard. As the Master inspected the other two, he moved one to the discard that Steven pointedly moved back.

They looked as each other for a moment.

Master Mundrl nodded once, and left it in the keep pile. Finally the Master picked up Steven’s greatcoat, which he had managed to keep in good condition. He looked it over, and held it out to Steven. Steven put it on, and they moved over to the block in the dressing area. Steven secured it in place and settled it. The Master babbled to his son, as he pulled and adjusted.

Then the elves looked at Steven’s boots. These elicited a bit of an argument between the elves. Through the translator, Steven was asked if he wanted new boots, as those he wore were very definitely showing wear. Steven responded that if he could get new ones from home that could be then taken apart and used as a base, that would suit him; the boots he had seen here did not impress him at all and the few he had tried were not comfortable.

The Master elf turned to the escort, and they spoke at length for several minutes. Steven got down, pulled the coat off and began to repack his stuff in the discarded bag, when Master Mundrl stopped him.

“Go home. Get your things. Come back.” The Master spoke in English.

Master Mundrl smiled at the escorts discomfort, as the boy left the room sniggering. The escort left, motioning to Steven to follow. The boy returned with a box that all Steven’s ‘keep’ pile went into.

Master Mundrl spoke again. “You get new clothes, new vest, and pack. You bring comfortable pattern. We make it.”

He bowed, with bubbling mirth in his eyes.

Steven returned the bow, finished packing the discard pile in to the pack, took his coat, belt knife, camera and film and followed his escort.

The escort was still huffy over being the butt of the merchant’s humor as he entered the suite where the Caplan’s were staying. He first spotted Roxanne, then found Caspian there and spoke rapidly to the mage and left.

Steven collected Roxanne as the others talked, and watched the elf leave. Caspian stood dumbfounded. Rox watched the elf leave, with a look of amusement.

Finally Steven broke the silence. “Well?”

Caspian turned to them. “Pack for Terra. You’re going shopping. How did you manage to offend him?”

The conversation during dinner in the café oscillated between offense given and taken, and what would be wanted to purchase and otherwise acquire on return to Earth. Just as dinner finished, Master Iver’s Assistant brought two stone disks a bit larger than dinner plates, gave them to Roxanne, and left.

With the meal done, Caspian took the disks in hand and led out from the café back to their rooms. “We need to leave the city to use these. Then Roxanne will teleport us to the convergence point. I will take us to Terra. However, we had best keep things quick. Any more than three days, and the elves will presume that you have given up.”

“Earth days or local days? And then what will they do,” Rox asked.

“Probably local, which are longer than Earth. Then they retrieve your children on their own, and raise them themselves here.”

Steven stood. “I say we go as soon as we can. I just left all my clothes at the outfitters.” He put his coat over his arm.

Caspian shrugged. “Fine with me.”

Roxanne moved toward the bedroom. “I’m going to change. I’ll be right back.”

Steven looked around after watching her leave. “Where’s Cyrril?”

“Out, somewhere. I send him away when I have to talk to elves. The stuffy galumphs needn’t have him to tell them what I think of them.”

Half an hour later, they walked out of the hotel where Cyrril joined them. They headed for the city gate. Master Iver joined them as they walked, but stayed quietly aside, and perhaps unrecognized by all but Roxanne.

Once outside the gate, Caspian picked a spot off the road and where it looked like few came directly and set one of the disks on the ground. Using it for a locus, Caspian guided Roxanne in the teleport spell to carry then across the continent to the stone circle where Roxanne and Steven had first set foot on Tywacomb. This took a bit of work; Rox had no clear memory of the circle, so she he instructed her in finding it by its unique arrangement. Once done, she set up the rest of the spell and cast it.

The spell was a variant on the one Caspian used, using Rox’s staff for the center. They all watched the land fall away, arc under them, and finally tip over and accelerate at a mountain.

They landed in almost the center of the circle of stones. Rox and Steven stepped aside and sat on stones large enough to hold them. Caspian leaned on his staff for some support and walked aside.

“I have no idea at which of the two points on Terra we will land, or what time of day. Also I hope you know just what you are after.” Caspian dropped the second disk out of the way.

Steven patted the parchment that he had written his and Roxanne’s wish lists on, hoping nothing had happened to shut down their financial accounts. He also had his camera and film; he used up the last of his third roll as they waited, taking a multi-image panorama of the view. Rox had a few things with her, including a leather bag containing her new jewelry set, and another with all her dirty laundry. They rested a bit, as Caspian set to charging up with mana, Cyrril doing the same. Roxanne looked about in some wonder, and stretched her awakened sensitivity to magic, soaking in the sensation of the several ley lines.

It was late afternoon, and the sun was low on the horizon, with one of the twin moons visible at about its zenith. After an hour of sitting and taking Caspian reported that he was ready.

The three stood in a circle at the center and each gripped Caspian’s staff with their right hands. Caspian then cast the spell to travel the ley lines to Terra. They all felt awareness leave them, coupled with a sense of upward acceleration.

087 – Home again, Home again . . .

Journal of Steven Caplan: Wednesday, October 8, 199x

Steven woke up disoriented, again. The sun shone through the blinds and curtains. He was in his own bed, in his own bedroom, in his own house, Roxanne was beside him, still asleep. And he felt lighter than he had in a while. He was home. They were home.

But the children were not home.

Steven got out of bed, reflexively put on his bathrobe, and walked out into the kitchen. He found some fresh food in the fridge, and fixed a bowl of cereal. That finished and the bowl and spoon in the sink, a glass of water in hand, he went to shower. Seeing Caspian sprawled on the sofa, with Cyrril wrapped around the lamp on the end table confirmed Steven’s grip on the situation.

Steven returned to his bedroom, draining his glass of water as he went. Rox was still asleep, which was unusual, but creditable to her efforts of late. The radio in the bathroom told Steven that it was Wednesday, October 8. The discrepancy between the date here and in his journal would tell him the approximate difference in the length of days between Earth and Tywacomb.

Steven noticed as he shaved and showered that some of his weight had shifted. He was in better shape with less padding around his middle. His chest, shoulders and legs in that order were obviously bigger. As he dressed, Roxanne rolled over, her white mohawk looking more normal everyday.

“What time is it?”

“About 8 a.m., Wednesday October 8.”

“You’re going to work, and where else?” She still looked barely coherent.

“Just to there. Drop off the film with Leticia, and get one of the vest-packs, then come back.”

“Don’t be too long.” Rox rolled back over.

Steven paused as he looked at his gun safe, then he left the gun in the safe in the closet. He buckled his alternate belt two notches tighter than usual as he walked to the front door. His car keys were hanging on the hook, next to the garage door opener. He hit the button, and took the keys. He stopped, and scratched his errands on the notepad for Rox, and went out to his car.

The Bonneville ran smoothly, and smelled faintly of Mrs. Winchel. Steven smiled, and drove to work, closing the garage as he left automatically. It was a pleasant drive up the Carson Valley. Steven had to remind himself a few times to keep looking around. He pulled in to his usual spot automatically, amused at how easily the old patterns of life reasserted themselves. He walked into the foyer of the warehouse building he kept his business in, and took his sunglasses off as he looked around. The office here at the front did not look significantly changed. Straight ahead was the hallway with the offices, to the right by the windows was the receptionist, and around to the right past the receptionist was the way to the production area.

The receptionist was new; no surprise there. She looked like another post High School student. The noise from the production room in the back was the same as he remembered.

“May I help you?” the girl at the desk asked.

Steven decided to play a bit. “Yes. Is Leticia here?”

“Yes.”

“Please page her. Have her come up front.”

The girl picked up the handset, giving Steven a funny look, turned on the page and called Leticia.

Steven began counting quietly, while leaning against the door frame. At 18 he heard the door open to the design area. At 23 Leticia came around the corner marking a clipboard. She looked at him and stopped. A grin filled her face.

“When did you get back in town?” She all but ran around the desk to snatch him up in a hug.

Steven lightly hugged back, and she stepped back.

“We got in last night, and are leaving again by tomorrow.” Steven headed back to his office as they talked.

“‘We’ who? And where have you been? Tell me all about it.” She closed the door behind her, but left the blinds open. Once vocal privacy was assured she launched. “Are Rox and the kids all right? Are they back? What’s the truth of what happened? Where have you been?”

Steven waited for her to stop. “Rox is fine, we got her back, but don’t yet have the kids. We believe they are fine, and are in process to go get them. But we had to come home for a few things. That’s all I can say at the moment about that. I need to pick up some bags to take with me. And I want to know how things are going here, and give you some film to get developed.”

They spent the next hour and a half going over the custom designs he wanted, built on a standard pack vest made here, followed by her telling what all had happened in his absence. Steven gulped water the whole time, and paused once in the restroom. He approved all of what had been done, and signed the few things that he absolutely needed to sign. After using the restroom, Steven went outside and got the film from the car, he noticed a police car idle by the front of the building.

‘Why now?’ Steven thought to himself, wondering when he had been spotted. He scowled and shook his head. He went back to Leticia’s office and added his car keys and wallet to the three film cans, and gave them to Leticia.

“Finish the bags, and take them and my car home. Put the car in the garage. If Rox is there, tell her I am at the police station. And I’ll need a ride.” Steven handed her the rest of the contents of his pockets and then walked outside.

He looked around, and there he was: Deputy Poulson in his brown sedan, just pulling in and parking. Steven walked over, and stood by the passenger door as the car stopped. Before the car could be shut off, Steven put his hand on the window and knocked with the other, smiled and waved. The startled deputy all but flew from the car.

“Step away from the car, please sir.”

“Why not just let me get in, put on my seatbelt, and we can go? I am why you came after all.”

Deputy Poulson paused for a beat. The chime from his car continued to count the time.

“I do have a CCW, but I am not armed at this time. Will that do?”

Three cruisers screeched up from different directions at that moment, but all seemed to pause, unsure what to do. Deputy Poulson just stood there, and then he made his decision.

“O.k. We’ll do that. I need to pat you down before you get in, though.”

Deputy Poulson quickly proved that Steven was not carrying even his wallet, and then let him get in. Steven climbed in the back seat, pulled on his seatbelt, and put his hands together in his lap. Deputy Poulson got back in his side, did his own belt, and talked into his radio mike. Steven knew most of the gibberish, but was not overly interested. The other cars drove away, but one shadowed them all the way to the station. Steve just sat quietly the whole way, smiling slightly and feeling amused.

Roxanne awoke fully as Steven drove out the driveway. She used up what was available of the hot water as she bathed. She washed her hair three times finishing with her mane on top sopping her face, and her sides tangled almost as bad as dreadlocks. She brushed it all out. The mane stood up again, she pulled her sides back and tied them.

She put on her normal underclothes out of habit, before she realized she was doing so. She followed this with her usual t-shirt and jeans. She put her dirty spandex and underwear in the laundry and pulled out some fresh ones to take back to Tywacomb. She paused at the leather bag with her jewelry. Rox had been wearing her wedding ring on her finger since arriving in Shalaia, but now she had second thoughts.

She opened the small safe in the closet, where Steven kept his gun. It was still there, where he had last put it down. Next to it was his wedding band.

Rox pulled the gun and its related things out and put her leather bag with her acquired jewelry in, then put her own wedding ring in on top of her husbands, and closed the safe. She then turned to her socks and shoes.

Dressed, she went out front, put Steven’s stray glass in the sink, and cooked some breakfast.

The unreality if the situation seemed to keep Rox’s perspective at the level of watching herself in a movie. The sound and smell of breakfast brought Caspian and Cyrril in. Rox got Caspian a pitcher of water, and left the facet running for Cyrril. Once finished with the meal and mess, and getting out some raw meat for Cyrril, Rox showed Caspian the spare bathroom, and shower. While they finished, Roxanne found Steven’s list, scratched out her own list of things to do below it, and set about gathering things up.

Downstairs she checked the laundry, and found everything sorted and put away. She picked up Steven’s small hand sized camera tripod as she went past his work room, and set it on the couch when she got back up stairs.

Next she went out to her garage. As she crossed the yard, the absence of the dogs hit her hard. Rox unlocked the door and went inside, turning on the light. Aside from some dust, nothing was out of place. Someone had even put dust cloths over the power tools. The flatbed trailer was in here, the Camero was gone.

The car’s absence mildly surprised her as she had not thought about it at all since this started, but there was nothing to do for it now, so she continued with her task, and retrieved her compound bow and all her arrows from their storage in the rafters. As she looked around, she also noticed that some pieces of truck were set aside. A frame and most of a drive train lined one bay of the garage.

Rox closed everything down, and relocked the garage. She looked around the front of the barn, and found that the body components for the truck she had been planning were arrayed aside, and covered with tarps. Josh Fitch’s truck and components were absent. That figured, since school was in and part of it had been planned as a senior year project.

Back in the house, Rox put the bow and three quivers on the couch, as Caspian came out of the bathroom, dressed in a suit. He was having trouble tying the tie. He put his other clothes over the back of the couch. Cyrril was wrapped around a trophy on the book shelf.

“Nice suit. Where’s the staff?” She batted his hands aside, and tied the tie correctly herself.

“In my pocket, the size of a stylus. Evidently Alistare had this laundered and put away after I left last time. I presume he left me this note with these numbers on it.” Caspian showed Rox a slip of paper, it had a name and a phone number.

“Probably his phone number. Steven should be back this afternoon. In the meantime I am going shopping. Care to come?”

“That is why I am dressed.” Caspian answered.

Rox and Caspian, each nursing large bottles of water, took the truck up the Carson Valley, through Washoe, and to REI and Sportsman’s Warehouse in Reno. As they traveled, Caspian dug a small disk and a large clear marble from a coat pocket and played with them in his fingers before putting them back away. At the stores Rox purchased two water bladders, some water filters, and a few other things in replacement of lost and broken sundries. Rox also stopped at the clothing section and purchased several pairs of socks for her and Steven. Despite what the elves claimed, she preferred what she grew up with.

088 – Steven Tells A Story

At the station, Deputy Poulson took Steven in hand, and walked him into an archetypal room with dark glass on one wall, the table and facing chairs. “Please stay here, Mr. Caplan. Can I bring you some water, or something?”

“Lots of water will be fine.”

Steven pulled over one of the yellow legal pads and a ballpoint pen and started doodling. For a moment he wished he had his watch, but once the battery had died on Tywacomb, he had stopped wearing it. The watch now sat in a box in an elf-outfitters shop.

Deputy Poulson left, and came back a few minutes later. He put a digital recorder on the table and started it recording. He also put a pitcher of water, some cups, and his own notebook on the table. As he did he looked at Steven’s doodle. Steven helped himself to the water, and then started doodling again.

“Where’s this map of, Mr. Caplan?”

Steven looked up. If he had been wearing glasses he would have been looking over them. “You start all your interrogations this way?” The pen stopped as he looked, then continued with a shoulder shrug.

“It’s where I’ve traveled to go find my wife, and track down my kids’ whereabouts. This point,” top right of the page, “is the landing spot, high in some mountains. From there, about seven or so weeks by foot to this city,” on the far left, “where we picked up my wife. Then another several to this one,” bottom right. “I could not tell you the names or correctly spell them in English.”

Steven tore the sheet off and put it and the pad aside. He drained a cup of water. Then put his elbow on the table, his jaw on his fist, and looked as bored as he felt.

The detective put the map aside. “So you are saying that you have picked up your wife, and know where your kids are.”

“Yes. Generally.”

“And how did this come about?”

“Remember the Private Investigator? With his magic marble?” Steven smiled now, remembering the antagonism from that encounter.

“Yes.” This was an unpleasant answer.

“Well, he was right. No Law Enforcement agency on Earth could have been any help.”

“And why was that?”

“You’re going to think I’m nuts, but I swear to you that everything I am going to say is true. After you left, the P.I. changed his clothes. By magic. Poof. Now you see the Armani Suit. Now you see the home-spun camp clothes and duster. With a seven foot staff and dragon the size of a house cat. That night we packed some stuff to camp with, and teleported into the northern Sierra. The next morning he teleported us one sixth of the way around the Galaxy.”

Steven drew a quick doodle of the galaxy with two points and ‘you are here’ arrows at them. One was labeled ‘Sol/Terra’, the other ‘Tywacomb.’ He pulled this off, and put it on top of the other loose sheet. “I tell you, long range teleport really messes with your body. It leaves one dehydrated.”

Steven started another cup of water and continued. “As I said, we landed, spent several weeks walking out of those mountains; I’d say about the distance from Cardston Canada to tri-cities Oregon, give or take; we had a few troubles along the way. Once to the city, we were able to trade hostages for Roxanne.”

“We already knew she had been separated from the kids. After resupplying, we set out to go to the coast, and were intercepted by a messenger, from the people who Rox’s maternal great grandmother’s line comes from. So we trekked to the other city. While there, Rox and I decided we wanted a few things from home. So we teleported to the first landing point, then teleported here. And here I am.”

“I stopped at work first and was going to run my other errands, but you interrupted.”

Deputy Poulson was taking notes as Steven finished. “So where are Mrs. Caplan and the children now?”

“Oh, I expect Rox will be along. She has her own errands to run first. But she should be by to pick me up, and we can get back to tracking the kids.”

“So, Mrs. Caplan is in town?”

“Wasn’t that the intelligent implication of what I said?” Steven finished his third cup of water, and poured another.

Deputy Poulson looked a non-pulsed. “O.k Mr. Caplan. That is an interesting story. Now to get this officially under way…”

Deputy Poulson read Steven several documents informing him of his rights. That as yet he was not yet under arrest or charged with anything. And that he could have a lawyer present before they went any farther. Steven gave the pat answers with a bit of a shrug, and started doodling again, though nothing in particular this time.

“That done, Mr. Caplan, for the record, the last time we talked was the day your wife and children disappeared. Is that correct?”

“Yup.” Steven did not look up.

“You were out of town when the incident happened?”

“On business. The trip was cut short. My General Manager can get you the relevant receipts and details. If she hasn’t already.”

“We already have those. She was very helpful.”

“She always is.”

“That night, or the next morning, you disappeared.” The Deputy was checking off notes as he went.

“Yup. With the Private Investigator. Caspian.” Steven was amused, and in a slightly giddy mood at the Deputy’s annoyance.

“You also called your mother-in-law, your General Manager, and your neighbor. Telling them to take care of things while you were gone.”

“Batting 1.000. You must have checked the phone records.”

“You have been gone some fifteen weeks. Now you show up, with a story of traveling to another planet, expecting it to be believed.”

“Oh, strike out. Is the story true? Yes. Do I expect it to be believed? No.” Steven let the giddiness drop a bit and seriousness take over.

Deputy Poulson decided to pop Steven’s attitude. “Do you think this is some sort of game, Mr. Caplan?”

“Nope.”

“Your family is missing. It looks like you had the only reason to do it, that we can guess at. And then you disappear and reappear with an outlandish story. And an attitude that tells me you think you have gotten away with something.”

Steven put the pen down. “Remember the P.I.’s trick with the marble? The sticks being right where it said they were? Can you tell me how he did that? Have you tried to do anything to find or identify the two men that it showed taking my family?”

“We found no usable prints to begin to match to anybody on record. The sand from the floor did not match any local dirt. Further, the wounds in your dogs match no known blade profile specifically, though plenty in general. As for the marble, I have no good explanation.”

Steven interrupted at this point. “You mean none that’s believable. Magic, I have learned, like religion requires faith.” Steve finished his latest water and emptied the pitcher for another. “So, do we sit here arguing? Or are you going to ask me more pointless questions?”

Deputy Poulson had enough. “Mr. Caplan as far as we can tell there is no motive for anyone beyond you to do anything to your family.”

“That’s what clean American living does for you.”

“Our problem Mr. Caplan is that except for your attitude, we can’t find anything useful.”

“The Private Investigator said as much.”

“The ‘Private investigator’ does not exist as such! We checked that too. Aside from an unhelpful secretary at Judge Kevan’s office, we can’t find anything on him.”

“No surprise. He’s not from Earth. He is from the planet my kids are on, where I have been the last while.” Steven shrugged. His fourth sheet began to fill with aimless scratching that resolved into the fortress of the ruined city. After a bit of silence Steven looked up, watching Deputy Poulson writing some notes, and reinforcing his composure.

“Mr. Caplan, where have you been today?”

“This morning, I got up in my own bed, next to my own wife. Showered, dressed and ate in my own house. Drove my own car to my own business, and was picked up there by you.”

“You arrived at your house from where, when?”

“From the landing point in the Northern Sierra, by teleportation, about 9:45 pm last night, after stopping to do some quick grocery shopping.”

“And where were you before that?”

“In interstellar transit for three hours or so, as I understand. Before that, on another planet.”

“And who was with you?”

“My wife; Roxanne Caplan, who was still asleep when I left the house; the Private Detective Caspian, who slept on the couch; and Caspian’s dragon.”

“Did anybody see you arrive?”

“Not that told me. The convenience store over on 395 probably has us on video, but it won’t show a car.”

Deputy Poulson scratched more notes. He then stood up and collected all Steven’s loose doodles. “May I?” He reached for the pad Steven was doodling on. Steven labeled the drawing, and tore the sheets off and handed them over. All this went into a folder.

“Please wait here, Mr. Caplan. Someone will be by.”

Steven turned over the empty pitcher. “Sure. How about more water, lunch, and a trip to the restroom?”

Deputy Poulson said something noncommittal, and left the room. Steven continued his doodling, and let his thoughts loose on the paper, while waiting. He emptied two more pitchers and filled nine pages with doodling and text writing his understanding of the story, and made two trips to the restroom before any friendly faces showed up.