by Guy Antibes
“Once you walked into Cornno’s, I’ll bet you changed your mind about that.” Jonny smiled, but Whit didn’t know what was behind that smile. “Mind if I sit? You said you’d buy me dinner.”
Whit nodded. “That’s why I’m here rather than up in my room.”
Jonny sat down. Whit put his papers together and folded the map, laying it on the documents.
“I suppose you can have whatever you fancy,” Whit said.
Jonny grinned. “Ale, for one thing.” He rubbed his hands and looked around the dining room. “Did Fanni patch you up?” Jonny asked.
“She did a very good job, thank you. While we wait, can you tell me why Ritta tricked me into entering a den of pixies?” Whit asked.
Jonny laughed. “I like that… ‘den of pixies.’ I’ll have to use that if you don’t mind.”
“I don’t,” Whit said.
“We have the same interests,” Jonny said. “Ritta is an old friend, you know. Our relationship with certain people has always been tenuous.”
“Tenuous is a big word for the owner of a seedy pub to use,” Whit said, feeling a bit irritable.
Jonny sat back and peered at Whit. “I had you down for a person a bit more carefree. Ritta said you didn’t even attack her when she sneaked into your room.”
“I was prepared to,” Whit said.
“And you didn’t fight the lads in Cornno’s.”
“I was prepared to do that, too, but I thought I had a way to leave without injury. You would have thought less of us if we made a mess of some of your boys.”
Jonny laughed. “You almost did. You should have flown faster; although, I’m surprised you could fly at all lugging that big gnome.”
Whit shrugged. He didn’t respond. Whit figured it was more important to keep Jonny Evia talking.
“You are probably wondering why Ritta had us meet?” Jonny said. Whit nodded.
A server came and took their orders.
“And make it swift with the ale, if you could lass,” Jonny flashed a dazzling grin that made the serving girl blush.
“Of course,” she said with a blushing face and gave him a nervous curtsey. Whit was impressed by Jonny’s ability to fluster the girl.
Jonny laughed. “That was unfair, but fun.”
It dawned on Whit what Jonny had just done. “Mind-magic?”
“The barest touch. It isn’t fair if I’m forceful. It just augments my natural way with the ladies,” Jonny said with a sly smile.
“You were with Ritta the night she visited. One of my teammates was very disturbed by your magic and had to leave for a retreat.”
Jonny’s face darkened, and he pursed his lips. “I shouldn’t have done that, but Ritta had little time to spare. The young woman was really upset?”
“Very,” Whit said.
Jonny sighed. He looked suitably chastened. “She didn’t want me in on her first encounter with you, so we meet face to face in the light of a pleasant eating place.”
“This is our second encounter. Why didn’t she want us to meet at that time?” Whit asked.
“I’ll let her tell you,” Jonny said. He rose, and a light blue haired pixie walked in. She was about the same age, but taller than Yetti and very fit like Jonny.
Whit moved the papers to the seat of the chair next to him and stood as Ritta joined them. When they were seated, Whit asked the most obvious question. “Why all the secrecy? You could have asked to meet me for dinner, and I would have happily agreed.”
“To meet with pixie strangers?” Ritta asked.
“Why not? I was asked to get in contact with you by a friend in Ayce,” Whit said.
“It is more fun this way. I wanted to see how you’d react to me and to danger in Jonny’s pub.”
“My associate Yetti Haslia didn’t react very well to having her mind manipulated,” Whit said. He didn’t feel the need to be quite so cordial now that he was meeting Ritta face to face. The room invasion didn’t count.
“I’m sorry about that. Mind-magic affects pixies in different ways,” Ritta said.
Whit couldn’t tell if Ritta meant it or if her apology was an act. He couldn’t see a way out of accepting it. “Other than contact you, I’m not sure what my friend’s interest in you is. I can give you his name. He is a sky elf working in the Aycean government.”
“Consider me contacted,” Ritta said. “What is his name?”
“Canis Bache.”
Jonny shrugged at Ritta who raised her eyebrows and shrugged back at the pub owner.
“The name doesn’t mean anything to you, I suppose.”
“He is a spy?”
Whit laughed. “Of course he’s a spy. Why else would he use Yetti and me to contact you?”
“I don’t believe you are a spy,” Ritta said. “You are too… too naive.”
Whit laughed again. “Of course, I’m too naive. Canis has me do stupid contacting things. Other than having me be somewhere and deliver something or do what he asks, I know nothing about spying. He called me the king’s spy just before I left Herringbone, but Canis often puts a twist on what he says.”
“You are laughing off contacting us?” Ritta said, looking indignant.
“I’m amused by the ridiculousness of the situation,” Whit said. “I just want to introduce myself to you and let you know about my Herringbone friend, and I get a midnight visit with you garbed in black and attacked at a pub hostile to anyone who isn’t a pixie.”
Jonny frowned. “That is unfair! My customers often attack unknown pixies who happen to wander in too.” He smiled after he said it.
“So, what are we going to do with each other?” Ritta said. She tapped her finger on the table, which Whit took as an expression of frustration.
Whit shrugged. “Maybe you can help us.” He told them about his primary reason for visiting Garri and that he was about to leave the capital and travel through the Perisian countryside looking for parts to the Augur’s Eye.
“I’ve never heard of it,” Ritta said.
Jonny leaned forward. “I have. It was said to be the cause of the saints’ demise.”
“Where did you hear that?” Whit asked.
“From a friend of my father’s. I grew up in a village to the southeast of here, but it was destroyed by fire. I don’t know where the friend is now. I suspect he is as dead as my father from the fire.” Jonny said.
“Do you remember any details of the story?”
Jonny shrugged. “I was only a tiny lad. The Augur’s Eye proved something about the saints, and that kept saints worship intact. After a powerful king or magician destroyed the thing, saint worship dwindled to what it is now. Hardly anyone venerates the saints anywhere on Fortia.”
“Did your father believe the story?”
Jonny shook his head. “I couldn’t tell you. My father wasn’t a religious man, and he didn’t mention the story to me after his friend told it.”
“Do you want to hear my story or not?” Ritta said, obviously disinterested in the Eye.”
Whit nodded. “You had to hear me, now I’ll hear you.”
“We are loose parts of an organization unhappy with the king and the major factions in Perisian government. The people are being ignored as they play their power games,” Ritta said.
“Isn’t that a universal condition?” Whit asked.
“Why do I care?” Ritta said. “I’m only interested in Perisia. Have you heard of the factions?”
“I know the prime minister and the interior minister represent different interest groups. Isn’t one of those two aligned with the Magician’s Circle?” Whit asked.
Ritta grunted her assent. “Interior. Then there is the king. He is so weak that he lets them play their political games while the rest of us twist in the wind.”
“So, you are revolutionaries?” Whit asked.
“Don’t say that in here,” Jonny said, swiveling his eyes from side to side, looking for listeners, Whit imagined.
“I won’t again.”
“We are very concerned, but at present we don’t have a specific plan of action,” Ritta said.
“So, you are open to manipulation?” Whit said.
“Like mind-magic?” Ritta asked, looking alarmed.
Jonny laughed. “No, like being played for fools, Ritta.”
“He’s right,” Whit said. “Any of the factions can insert people into your loose organization and thwart any actions you seek to take. I’ve read about such things happening in the past.” Which Whit had done often enough in his political geography courses.
“We take steps,” Ritta said.
Their cause wasn’t his, so Whit almost kept his mouth shut. “Maybe you’ve told me all you need to. I could easily be one of those manipulators,” Whit said.
“Your naivete is an act?” Jonny asked. “You really are a spy from the Aycean king?”
“Not really,” Whit said gently touching the back of his skull. “But you get my point. You can’t be sure about me, so the less you tell me, the less I can tell others.”
Ritta glanced at Jonny and then back at Whit. “If anyone needs to get in touch with me, send a pixie dressed appropriately into Cornno’s Pub and leave a message with the bartender.”
“I’ll definitely send someone other than myself back in there,” Whit said.
Dinner finally arrived. “Now, tell me what you like about Perisia,” Whit said as he started to eat.
Chapter Twelve
~
“R
itta isn’t as prickly as Yetti,” Whit said to Pin and Gambol at breakfast, “but she is colder, somehow. At dinner, once I got them off their mission in Perisia, Jonny did all the talking. He has some interesting stories.” Whit looked at Gambol. “I think you’d like him, if you think you could trust him. He is deeper than he seems. I think he has had to struggle in his life, and his upbringing restricted what kind of choices he could make.”
Pin rubbed his chin. “An astute observation, Whit.”
“His father died in the same village fire that the friend who knew the story about the saints and the Eye. His mother never got over the tragedy, so he had to be the head of the household when he was a teenager. He didn’t go into any details, but I’m not sure I trust him, even if he is very interesting,” Whit said.
“Interesting is a nice term for a possible rogue and who knows what else,” Pin said. “Why don’t I invite you to a gathering of pixies of a class or two higher than Ritta and Jonny, but not as politically connected as the prime minister and her ilk? I’ll see if there is a social event already scheduled that you can attend and then you can leave Garri for a field trip. I’m still working on getting another audience with King Quiller, but I’m afraid it will take another three or four days. I’d better leave now. Thank you for the information.”
Whit watched the pixie leave and wondered if he did the right thing by telling Pin about Ritta and Jonny, but from Pin’s reactions and comments, he thought he had.
“What now?” Gambol said. “Are you going to continue your relationship with Ritta and Jonny?”
“Not for now,” Whit said. “I think it’s time to get out of Garri for a few days and give Pin some time to arrange something with the king.”
~
Whit, Argien, and Razz looked across the floor of a small ballroom with exceptionally tall ceilings. Whit fidgeted with his clothes. Zarl couldn’t find anything that came close to fitting which kept him from attending. Fistian decided that a gnome might not be welcome at the party. Gambol was too old, and Greeb Deechie wasn’t invited by unanimous vote.
“I don’t know if this was a good idea,” Razz said. “Even I tower over the girls, here.”
“You towered over them in Herringbone,” Whit said, “just not as much. We came to talk more than dance.”
The dance band, which consisted of pipes of different sizes and two different sounding drums, started up. The three outsiders took a step back as the dancers took off and floated above the dance floor. Whit looked up and now knew the reason for the tall ceilings. It was like looking up into a pool of water as the fliers moved in time to the music. Whit had never seen such a thing.
“Do angels dance like this?” Whit asked.
“No,” Argien said looking up at the performance.
“Sky elves don’t have the imagination to dance in the air,” Razz said. “We think in terms of going from one place to another. I think it’s enchanting, but I can’t fly like that.” He looked at Argien. “Can you?”
The angel shrugged. “I don’t know. I’ve never tried.”
The dance ended, and at the end, there were more dancers on the floor than in the air. Whit guessed that the flying took a lot of energy. It would do that for him.
Three pixie girls came over, a bit breathless from their dance. “You are here from a university in Ayce?” They asked.
“We are. I’ve never seen dancing in the air before,” Whit said.
“It’s a lot more fun,” a pink-haired pixie said, replying to Whit. “Do you want to try?”
Whit wasn’t much of a dancer, but he wasn’t a neophyte either. His girlfriend at Whistle Vale loved to dance, so he had learned a few steps. “I’ve never flown to music before,” he said.
She took his hand without asking. “Then let’s try. You do fly, don’t you?”
Whit grinned. “I haven’t for long, but I think I can manage to stay up in the air.”
He let her lead him out onto the dance floor. The band hadn’t started yet. Argien and Razz, who looked less comfortable than the angel, were with the other two girls. The band started to play, but unlike the first dance, other dancers didn’t take to the air. Whit shook his head. The pixies wanted to embarrass the foreigners. He wouldn’t let that happen.
“Do your best,” he said to his friends as he grabbed the hand of the pixie and led her into the air.
“Would it be best if I followed you?”
She looked at Whit in shock. “You dragged me into the air. The boys I know can’t do that!”
“Are you offended?”
“No, I’m surprised. Just follow me,” she said.
Whit did as he was told, and he soon got the idea of what pixie dancing was all about. It was fun, but he couldn’t see a sky elf partner losing herself to the music like the pink-haired pixie did.
Argien was lower in the air, but he was trying to pierce through his angel reserve. Razz did his best on the floor, and it looked like he and his partner were still having fun.
“Follow me,” Whit said to the pixie girl and took her through a series of steps, if you could call them steps based on a wood elf dance.
The girl’s face looked shocked after a few minutes following Whit. “I’ve lost my power!” She began to fall.
Whit had to dive down to pick her up. He’d done enough diving for message tubes in scout games to be proficient and scooped the little pixie up and tossed her into the air, being the only one who could fly.
The girl’s face beamed with delight as she realized what Whit was doing. “Again!” She said.
Whit took her up close to the ceiling and dropped her, moving the air so she didn’t drop in a straight line and with a series of catches, took her to the dance floor to applause. Argien, who was already down on the floor stopped to clap. The music stopped and chatter filled the hall.
“That was quite a show,” the angel said.
“I aim to please,” Whit said.
Razz looked around. “To entertain.”
“I don’t think I have enough energy for another demonstration. My partner doesn’t,” Whit said.
“It was worth it!” The pixie said, breathlessly. “I would have never thought an elf could move like that. Wonn didn’t think…” She didn’t go on about the person named Wonn.
“It doesn’t matter what Wonn thinks as long as you had fun. That is what dancing is all about, isn’t it?”
She grinned at him. “It is. Can you escort me to the refreshment table?”
“Certainly,” Whit said.
After getting fruit punch in tiny cups, the six of them gathered together.
“How often do you have dances like this?” Razz asked.
“All the time. A few times a month, here and there are other venues. This is that boy’s birthday party. His father is high up in the royal government.”
Whit guessed that was how Pin was able to get an invitation. He was friends with the nobility.
“What do young pixies such as yourself do when you aren’t dancing?” Argien said.
So began the conversation that they had come to the dance for. It was clear that Yetti and Ritta weren’t typical pixie women. Although they were a few years older than what appeared to be typical at the party, the playful behavior didn’t go away as pixies aged and Whit guessed that was what Pin wanted to demonstrate by giving them a chance to observe pixies having a good time and let the pixies observe the foreigners.
Whit was up for another dance after their conversation, but his partner wasn’t, and it looked like there were few flyers available as flying partners as the night wore on.
“I’ve had enough,” Razz whispered to Whit.
Whit watched Argien trying a last flying dance. The angel hadn’t improved during the night, but he seemed to have had a better time at the dance than at any event in Herringbone. Argien joined them after he bowed to his little pixie partner.
“I don’t know if I’ll fly properly for weeks,” Argien said.
“Shall we be off then?” Whit asked him.
“We shall,” Argien said.
A group of ten pixie boys stopped them as they stepped out of the large townhouse.
“You think you are something special, do you, boys?” one of the pixies said.
The atmosphere reminded Whit of Cornno’s pub. He didn’t know if they would evade a fight, but he would try. “The best I can come up with is that we are foreigners. I don’t think that qualifies for special.”
Whit’s comment was ignored. “You came here to show us up with your being taller than us and flaunting your white hair,” another pixie said.
“I—” Whit had been about to protest but admitting that he colored his hair was something he didn’t care to do. “I can’t do anything about my height. What does height have to do with anything when you are flying?”
