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CARNIVAL WORLD CHAPTER 28

Princess Quetzi Quetzicoatl was on her feet, after her long nap, sprinting behind me.
(Author’s Note: Bard was the former Cryptid Ranger Team Four operative and Anomaly Investigative Services investigator from Earth, now living on Carnival World and disguised as a Half Elf Ranger and Lore Bard.)
“I can tell by the darkness and the position of the moon that we are late, Quetzi. Not super late, mind you, but we are late,” I whispered.
“Why are you whispering?” asked Quetzi.
“I sense danger. I just see them talking – Nayana Zazazi, Faerune and Latraya. But my instinct is that something is wrong.”
“What is the danger you sense, Orlando Bard?” asked Quetzi. “Is it that little elf girl hiding -or shall I say, trying to hide – in the flower garden, under that pink blossomed tree?”
I cocked my Half Elf ears trying to pick up the gist of what dialogue I had missed because of my tardiness.
Faerune said, “Now that we have met, Scholar, and you have explained a little about the Advanced Technology Machine Artifact, I would like to thank you for your letter. We thought it was just a trick or prank at first, but…”
“I understand,” said Nayana Zazazi gently.
“First, Scholar, we want to thank you for wanting to help us with our low population problem. Since the Dark Purge, we, as a people, almost didn’t survive. And after, we have never rebuilt any city except, Arlahi village, where my wife hails from. And then Witch Hazel cursed all the royal children. Our daughter was one hundred percent immune, thank Creator, but many royal families have suffered and may suffer again, if those inoculated children bear children.”
Latraya smiled, “I understand what you said in your letter, about free-will and the constant battle between good and evil, Scholar, but it has been hard for me to forgive Creator and his Son. We have suffered for centuries.”
Faerune said, “I am much like my grandfather, the king before Zandar. Like you said, our ancestors, the Nordic Elves, were like that story you told us about from Earth, where King David was a warrior, and imperfect, especially with his lust for things, but our ancestors you said, were like the apple of Creator’s eye – like that King David.
“My grandfather needed to have a day of repentance for our nation but was too proud to do so. Yet he treated Ayneegh the first with dignity and respect, where my father, ‘Uncle Zandar,’ did not. Also, when it came down to accepting the quest to rescue the young princess Quetzi, he sacrificed the love of his son, Zandar, to fulfill that promise.”
Nayana Zazazi massaged his chin with his fingers, then said, “Creator and His Son, they look at the heart and he could see your grandfather’s heart and can see yours. Have you considered my other question, Faerune and Latraya. Creator wants to bless you, just like he wanted to bless your grandfather, and even your father, ‘Uncle Zandar.’”
Latraya smiled again, “Yes, Scholar, Faerune and I have talked about it. We set aside time and made our peace with Creator and his Son, and repented of how long it took us. Faerune and I want to go to the Jesu-crafted abode when it is our time. We talked to Mystica, but she is still angry, fed amply on the words of Zandar. She even quoted a few of ‘Uncle Zandar’s’ fuming rants about ‘that White Dwarf Cleric’ and why he would not serve Creator and His Son.”
Quetzi nudged me again, “Who is that girl? Is that the High Elf princess? She doesn’t look dangerous. Maybe I can sense she can be a handful, but dangerous?”
“What? What girl?” I exclaimed. And then I saw her, crouching in the dark, her tall for a young girl body, wrapped in green and purple leather armor, hidden, but not well. And I could faintly here her mumbling to herself.
“Oh great! Just great!” I complained in a whisper. “There are none so blind as those who cannot see! Make a note to self – Orlando Bard needs his eyes examined and his hearing tested!” He added, “If I remember correctly, Quetzi, Ayneegh the First’s prophecy said that we couldn’t be late and only the two of us could join Nayana Zazazi, Faerune and Latraya. Any others or if we are late, things do not go well!”
We watched, but they were far in the distance. We were out of breath and prepared again to sprint to the meeting place.
Meanwhile, there was a shimmering like sunlight at noon on the face of a lake.
Three Dark Atlanticeans, dark evil clown faces painted with black and red makeup. Mostly black. Just their eyebrows and lips were bright red. Twin daggers on each Dark Atlanticean. Three Death Clowns, Jesters of Chaos. Assassins of the Dark Naga! From the waist up they had upright ebony human bodies but below they had glistening snake tails that floated just above the ground and curved behind them in a long “s” shape.
In an instant their dark glistening snake rattles snapped like lion’s tails prior to a hunting strike. The trio of Dark Naga Assassins brandished their twisty daggers and charged from the shadows.
Each struck, quickly and expertly. Faerune and Latraya were down and not moving.
The quill and bead vest of Nayana Zazazi deflected the blades, but with a reverse of dagger direction, by the swift deft hands of the Dark Atlanticean woman, who had chosen him as her target, his neck gurgled crimson, and he fell.

Mystica Knorn jumped to her feet and screamed, “NOOOOOO!”
Like evil black banshees, the three Death Clown Assassins, called out through the mystical energy of their face paint, that pleaded for strength and power and dark intervention, a black blessing, from the Snake gods. The taints heard and focused their venom on the surviving princess. Their energies were not successful in stopping her Nordic Elf genetics from activating, but they were successful in blinding her eyes from seeing the Jesters of Chaos, and instead, a memory of a vampiric White Atlanticean was patched over her memories.
As one the two male and one female Death Clowns threw their daggers.
In a blur of movement, first one pair of whistling daggers were shunted aside as Mystica Knorn, with blinding speed, flicked outward, with her armored bracers.
Then once again, the second assassin’s daggers were sent spinning away into the night!
And finally, the third set of spinning blades spun out into the moonlight, like shiny Oriental Throwing Stars, flashing in the night like wild beams of moonlight, hurling towards the young she-elf, of High Elf parents. The princess, a young maiden, possessed the copper and yellow eyes of the ancient, Nordic Elf, Cosmic Super Soldiers.
And for protracted moments her body reacted, not as a High Elf, but with the strength and speed and precision of her super soldier ancestors!
The humming shimmering raked the night once more, as the three Death Clown Assassins, the Dark Atlanticeans who had spent one hundred years, on a killing spree, killing every Atlanticean, who would not join them and worship the Snake gods, finished their cruel dance of death.
When they had found out, earlier in the week, that their next enemies of choice, the Royal Knorn Family, would be visiting Carnival City, to meet the clone of their old enemy, they had quickly formed a plan.
And, after white clown face rituals, only changing to black face, prior to the mission, they had powered up the skip jack cruiser, that they had stolen centuries ago.
The skip cruiser holds twelve passengers instead of eight, but most importantly, has teleporter capabilities.
Now, victory was theirs, more revenge against the family of Zandar who had ended the last Dark Naga and Dark Atlantean purge, joining the Shire Reeves and hunting down their armies. More than that, they at last had another opportunity. Finally, they had killed the Hero of the Dark Purge, who, always in life, had been protected by the God of the Psalm 82 Divine Council and God of The Book.
Nayana Zazazi, had changed the weather and environmental satellite, the Dark Lancer, into a Cryptid, Giant, and Troll killing machine. He who had destroyed the great mass of their Monster Men army, was at last, no more.
Now Zandar, the mercenary prince who had picked off the remains of that once great army, had been fully avenged but left living to suffer all the more! Zandar’s son and granddaughter were blood spattered husks, ready to decay, beneath the shining moon and cool winds of the unhallowed night. Now it was time to flee the scene and prepare to kneel, with dark bloody honor, before their new queen.
Queen of the Moon, Commander Maria Orsic, an old German crone, channeler, occultist, mystic, world and time traveler, could no longer age regress with the secret base’s med bed. Easily angered in her old age, she was still known to happily and gratefully reward servants who brought her any well-fought victory. Her dark majesty would indeed reward the three, and the cruiser captain, handsomely for their great and dark deed. Triumphant, the three gloating assassins signaled the craft, and were beamed aboard the fleeing spaceship.
In a flash, the four Dark Assassins were whisked away in a sizzling hum and flash of lights. They remained cloaked in their ship, and sped off into the night sky, towards their Swastika space base.
It would take time, but the first leg of the plan was done, and now they could build another army.
Forget the new Dark Naga Queen!
Most of the Dark Atlanticeans, long ago, had switched allegiances and joined Queen Commander Orsic. Hile Orsic!
***
Mystica batted away another knife, but suddenly, she was just a young high elf maiden again, and she deflected the last spinning knife, but not with the machine precision she had exhibited with five out of six of the former throwing knives!
The cruel silver blade did not hit her heart, but slid, off stroke just enough, and its power slowed, that she did not die instantly, as her parents had.
With a scream of agony, Mystica Knorn fell to her knees and collapsed out onto the lawn. Next, she fell backwards, face up, staring, gasping for breath, numbed with more physical agony than she had ever felt. Choking a froth of red blood, that spilled over her lips, Mystica stared up at the full moon of the night sky. “You can’t do that blankety blank knife tossing attack! I want to squeeze your effin little,” cough, gurgle scream, “blankety blank—”
I cried out in anguish, as did Quetzi, and we sprinted toward the fallen bodies.
Just as we arrived there was a flash of light and Nayana Zazazi was standing over Nayana Zazazi!
He ignored his twin and dropped to his knees and laid hands on Faerune and Latraya, tears running in rivulets down his face, “I am so sorry, my friends, so sorry. I cannot heal you.”
Just as Quetzi and I had arrived on the scene, Nayana Zazazi dropped to his knees over Mystica. “Hurry, she is still alive! Crying out with a long low moan, Nayana Zazazi, clone number two, dropped onto the High Elf princess and prayed to Creator and his Son, and sent all of his life energy into her body, and then he died.
I gently pulled him off and Quetzi cried out to Creator in New Ophidian, and she too gave her life force into young Mystica Knorn.
Quetzi, fighting for breath, and staggering, fell to her knees. Struggling to speak, the White Naga princess said, fighting for breath, and stammering and slurring her words, “I am …going to my… palace, Bard. The one… you said is mine. In my… mind I can… feel it. And it is …singing to me. I will… find it. I will …use… my… staff.
“I have… a communication book. Zandar… has the other. I will… let him know… what has happened.
Her… wound is… sealed, Bard, but she… is in a …coma, and I… do not know… how long …she will be… out.
“Maybe… a few hours. Maybe… a few… days.
“Is there… anywhere safe… you can take… her? Do you …have a school …of clerics here? And… we – no… you Bard – should …ask her privately, what… she remembers… of this night, when… she is… fully physically …healed and awake.
“But her… emotional trauma …will be… terrible, maybe for… years. If Mystica’s memories …are not… exactly… accurate, I think we …must give… it time, maybe… years, and when… she starts to remember… the correct events, then… we must confirm… those …corrections.
“I think… I will wait… and see… what… Zandar… wishes. He will …hear the ringer …of the communication… journal and will… read my… message and write…. one back to me.
He is… too old… to come, Bard, but he will …want us to send… back Faerune and …Latraya’s bodies for their …celebration of life. Of course, if… she is willing… and able, Mystica… must have the …chance to …attend her …parent’s funeral, …but my… feeling is… Bard, that… she will… not… go, and… that… it will be… a mistake… to …push… her!
“I think… you…Bard… should take over… as Caretaker… and Protector …of the young princess… for now.
“Besides, I feel… as if I failed her, by… slowing…. you down. And …I… need time… to recover …my… strength.
“I will stay… in the shadows, Bard, ready …the new guild… that I have been given, and …later …I will let my self be… known ….to… Mystica and …take her …into my guild.
“I could… be wrong, Bard, …but I …think Zandar… will provide for his… granddaughter financially, but …the king… will probably want her …here, rather than… there.
“And… I don’t know… what will …be worse, memories …of her parents …at Zandar’s Castle, now dead …and …gone. Or will the… memories of being here, …at Carnival City, and knowing… that her parents… are dead, will …that be… her …strongest …pain?”
Bard said, “I understand, Quetzi.” He added, “It was Mystica’s choice to come to the meeting, but she did not know about the prophecy, and how her presence would affect it.
“I too feel responsible, Questi. If Mystica was angry with Creator and His Son, before, how much angrier will she be now?
“She will not understand about the constant war between Good and Evil and that freewill, to do good, and to do evil, is ours.
“And that while Creator is all powerful, and can provide miracles and answer prayers, in some ways, His hands are tied at times, as certain events must come to pass. Certain prophecy, good or bad must sometimes come to pass, that worse horrors are mitigated or prevented in the future.”
Quetzi hung her head, both in sadness and because her body was so tired and weak. She struggled, but she could not stand, even with the help of her staff. Bard helped Quetzi stand.
“Yes, Quetzi,” I said, “I will take Mystica to St. Patrick’s hospital, where they can nurse her back to health. I will ask Zale’s rangers if they will help me move Faerune and his wife’s bodies. They will probably want that invisibility tech that clone number two was using, as well. But, most likely, it will be some of that tech where it only works for an Atlanticean or a good-aligned Fey.
“If you need me Quetzi, I have the Adventurer’s Inn near the Constabulary, either come yourself, or send someone with a message.”

Bard watched as Quetzi hobbled off towards her new crystal palace, that resembled a smaller version of the former White Naga Castle. He gently picked up the comatose, High Elf, Mystica Knorn, from the cool green grass, lit brightly in the rays of the full moon. Carrying Mystica in front of him, he ran, running as gently, but as quickly as possible, to deliver her mostly healed, but unconscious body, to the medics at St. Patrick’s Hospital.
***
Well, folks, my show is over, but Mystica Knorn’s tale is not. Come back tomorrow night, folks and I will entertain you with the further adventures of my merry band and our new Bounty Hunter, Mystica Knorn.

Carnival World, Chapter 29

“Greetings and Salutations, ladies and gentlemen, doggies and kitties, welcome again to this night’s – well, late afternoon, to be more precise – Orlando Bard Show, at the Adventurer’s Inn and Bounty Hunter’s Guild.” I switched my crossed legs, clasped my wooden mug, then sipped water from it before setting it gently on the table. Grabbing my lute, I strummed it lightly and said with a smile, “And tonight is another in my new and improved installment series on the High Elf Maiden, and Bounty Hunter, Mystica Knorn. We will start with my visit with her, the next morning, in her private room at St. Patrick’s Hospital.” He added his signature Bard’s line, “Let the adventure begin!”
***
It was early morning, and the sun was well up, its bright rays flowing through the windows, which displayed a picturesque meditation garden full of flowers and shrubs, and a miniature Blarny Castle with scattered benches, tended to by St. Patrick’s clerics. Rather than looking like the northwest meditation park, with its pink lotus willows, it was designed more after the meditation Oak tree and Blarny Castle statue park in the Carnival Game square.
Padre was chatting with Mystica, who, though pale, her eyes red from crying, was finishing her second bowl of imported from Earth, Moose Tracks ice cream. Her large plate of scrambled eggs, sitting atop a blue cafeteria tray, were laying cold and untouched on her over-the-bed table. One empty saucer, with grease and bacon morsels and dark brown toast crumbs, were pushed off to the side. Two empty glasses, one with dark residue, and the other looked like it had remnants of pulpy orange juice, sat next to the saucer.
I had skipped breakfast, and the food smells, even of the cold, plain Jane, bright and yellow scrambled eggs, sent my growling stomach into a tailspin.
Ahead of her on the wall was a life-size carving of Jesus Christ, nailed to the cross. Mystica would frown and look away quickly, if her gaze would linger across the statue. As I entered the room Mystica gobbled down another spoon of ice cream, then said to Padre, “One! I can see you are a kind man. You can visit me anytime you want. Basically, you will always be welcome, but don’t… uhh… talk to me about Creator and His Son. I was there last night, Padre. You weren’t.
“I don’t remember much. I didn’t see any trio of Dark Atlanticean Death Clown Assassins with dual daggers, like you said, Padre!
All I can remember uhhm is the little man with a funny white hat and quill and bead vest. I was trying to figure out whether he uhhm had a nice smile or the smile of a sneaky predator, like a green-meanie goblin. Then my parents are dead, he’s on top of them, and then basically he sails through the air like a flying squirrel, his fangs bared and attacks me.
“I am in pain, uhhm Padre! More pain than I have ever felt in my life! Basically I can’t move! I uhhm want to fight him, and I can’t move!
“And uhhm my throat hurts and my heart hurts and uhhm I can’t even cry.
“My parents are dead, Padre! And I feel like…uhm…basically… I feel like I am dying. And that little wicked man flies through the air, his eyes large, and his teeth even bigger, licking my parent’s blood off his lips, and then he pounces on me.
I thought he was going to eat me, but then I saw this big Half Elf, with long axe drawn, and this glittery white and sparkly ghost cape, flying behind him, as he ran towards me. He was a ways away, but with weapon ready, sprinting to rescue me.
“No Padre, just like Uncle Zandar said, ‘Either Creator and his Son are weak, useless gods, or they are cruel task masters!’” Princess Mystica added, “I heard my parents tell the wicked little vampire that they had just made their peace with Creator and His Son, and that they wanted to go to their Jesu-crafted abode. No, Padre, I don’t …uhhm…want anything to do with those two divine thieves, and that silver-tongued vampire! Basically, if he is dead, as you say, I am glad! Visit me anytime you want, Padre, but don’t uhhm pray for me! And basically I don’t want to talk about last night, and my parent’s death, ever—!
Padre nodded sadly at me, as I entered the room.
“Are…are…are you uhhm the Half Elf who rescued me?” exclaimed Mystica, her eyes large and squeezed up and wide open.
“I am.
“I am sorry to meet you under such terrible conditions, princess, but I am glad to finally meet you. How are you doing?”
“Uhhm. Basically, O.K. I guess. I am taking one day at a time. I am just trying to think of other things, like the great taste of ice cream and cherry cola, that I have never drank before today and yesterday.”
I was just about to tell her that the three Dark Atlanticeans had killed her parents and almost killed her, but I held my tongue. He, Nayana Zazazi’s second, invisibility shrouded clone, had literally volunteered his life force, all of it, to bring her back from swiftly approaching death.
Then Princess Quetzi Quetzicoatl, still weak from emerging from suspended animation, cried out to Creator in prayer, and used her “laying hands ability,” to fully heal Mystica.
But I had promised Quetzi, who seemed to have a special insight into Mystica’s personality and situation, not to argue with her, if she doesn’t remember what really happened…I don’t know. Creator knows.
Anyway, Mystica, it seems, is a nice girl, but with an active imagination and an incredibly strong will. The Royal Knorn Family is known for that, good deeds coiled, like oil mixed with water, combined in a unique formation with heroic kindness blended with granite stubbornness.

Eyes wide, Mystica, her copper irises laced with yellow glints, eyed me intently with great curiosity, “One! Uhhm. Who are you? Basically…what do I call you?”

I answered with my best smile, “That’s really two questions, but I would be glad to answer them. And any others you have. Can’t promise, Mystica, that I will answer them all to your satisfaction, but I will do my best.
“First, I am the Bounty Hunter Bard of Carnival World—”
“Uhhm. I have heard of you then. Now I have a picture to go with it,” answered Mystica Knorn.
“Second,” I continued, “Or you can call me Orlando or Bard. I have an Inn in town where I hold bard shows and my crew there serves food and drink to visitors to Carnival City. I also rent rooms there, at my inn, and have my Bounty Hunter’s guild. I go on bounty hunts, do guided hunting and fishing, and sometimes help the four ranger teams from Earth, or do quests for Conner Corporation, who owns the Carnival.
“And, by the way, Mystica, I am glad that you have met Padre. While he works for the St. Patrick’s guild as a cleric, he was also assigned to my bounty hunting crew, by Conner Corp as a prayer warrior and medic. Part of the paperwork I had to sign to have a Bounty Hunter’s Guild in the city. Each ranger team has a ranger who is also a medic. I saw the frown briefly cross Mystica’s face when I mentioned prayer warrior, but the smile came back as I mentioned the word medic. In the same manner, each bounty team in Carnival World is supposed to keep a St. Patrick’s cleric on staff.”
Mystica said, “Uhhm. I have heard the doctor say that physically, I am mostly healed. I am just here. What did they say? ‘Mostly for observation.’ I suppose I am going to be sent back home then. I don’t want to go home, though. It’s not uhhm, basically, that I don’t like Uncle Zandar. He keeps to himself mostly. I miss my cats, but they are more the Royal Knorn Family cats, not just mine. Uhhm, basically, I don’t think I can stand being at the castle when my parents won’t be there…”
Mystica didn’t actually cry. More accurately, her eyes watered, her expression took on this deep emotional look of pain, and her throat constricted to the point that speaking was difficult.
After a few moments Mystica struggled, but continued, “I…I…I…uhm, basically, I know Uncle Zander is going to want me to come home and go to the funeral. But…but…but…I don’t want to see…uhhm…my parents on display, surrounded with cold flowers…uhhm…displayed like dead cats in a basket. No! Uhhm…basically, One! I am not going to their funeral! I miss them! I miss them to death. I…uhhm…will remember them in my own way. Like the wonderful time we spent, Father and Mother, with me, yesterday afternoon, at the fair!
“Please. Come back and visit me. Both of you. Uhhm…basically, maybe this afternoon. Or tonight. Or tomorrow. But…but…but…uhhm…One! I need to be alone now. Tell the nurses I want more ice cream. And uhhm, basically, what is that red jiggly stuff? Jello. Have them bring in some Jello. No water, though. Have them send me cherry cola…and another…uhm…orange juice…thanks for coming Bard and Padre…but…uhmm…basically…I need some alone time.”
Both Padre and I said quick goodbyes to Mystica, then stopped by the nurse’s station, to inform them of her food request and ask a few more pointed questions as to her welfare. Quetzi, weak as she was, was determined to get her guild up and running.
She even has an errand boy this morning. St. Patrick’s guild had taken in a young, orphaned goblin who had gotten into some minor mischief. Strangely, he had pink skin, rather than green. Green freckles, though, but he was as pink as a piglet’s nose! And his eyes were green as emeralds, with specks and slivers of silver and gold, rather than the dull brown and olive-green mixed eye color of a common goblin. Pip, because he was tiny like the black dot on Carnival dice, is what we called him.
Padre had suggested to Cool Man, that they send him over to the new Naga Head Mistress of the newly established Flying Serpents Guild. They also sent Ari, a tall, now ten years old, smart orphan girl. Her mother and father, both tall as ceders had been Mountain Barbarians. They died right outside of the Cyclopean Walls as our guards ran out to help them fight off an enormous and angry black bear.
I will share Pip and Ari’s tales later.
For now, I will share just a smidge about Pip the Pink!
Shy, but a bright and friendly little boy, a few years younger than Mystica, if I am guessing correctly. I am thinking that one of his parents had been a goblin and that his other, probably the mother, had been a Fae. And for that Goblin father, to produce a child, he must have had Atlanticean or Nordic Elf blood in his genetic heritage. The Nordic Elves, when they had come to the planet, almost two thousand years ago, to make alliances with the many races, had married into many varieties of families, and seemed to be fecund with most humans and humanoids like Golden Elves, Wood Elves, Sea Elves, Dwarves, Orcs, Goblins, Hob Goblins, Pucks and Fey. Pip’s hair, being a sky-blue and corn-silk in color, my guess is that he has Frost or Electric Fey ancestry.
But he had brought me a message earlier in the morning with news of a reply from Castle Zandar concerning our briefing on Prince Faerune and his wife’s death at the hands of the Dark Atlanticean Death Clown Assassins. We had also informed the High Elf king that Princess Mystica Knorn had almost died, but had been healed by a White Atlanticean scholar, who had given his life to save her, and Quetzi, Zandar’s former adventuring companion. The note, written on parchment, with a fine hand, brought by Pip, the pink goblin boy, from Quetzi to me, had also contained instructions on Zandar’s wishes concerning Mystica’s future watch care.
Quetzi had heard back, in her Advanced Technology Communications Journal, that had a designated link with Zandar’s device. Their team, back in the days she, Zandar, and several others had worked together, had a pair of them. They had used the communication devices if their adventuring group was temporarily on separate quests. Either an alphanumeric keyboard or a stylus could be used to communicate on the device.
Zandar had written he would provide a stipend for Mystica, but that unless she wanted to come for the funeral, he didn’t think she would fare well emotionally, living alone at the castle, with only the servants and the Royal Knorn Family cats for company.
Zandar mentioned his monthly Mystica party but opined that it was not enough for a healthy relationship, and that he was not physically or emotionally willing and able to make such an investment for her welfare.
He told Quetzi that he wanted to know of any significant developments concerning Mystica and requested a monthly summary report concerning her general welfare. Then Zandar the King had asked Quetzi to assume the role of monitoring Mystica, to see that she is happy and housed and fed. Zandar also queried that Quetzi advise him, if Mystica ever had any financial needs that would arise, that weren’t being covered by his monthly allowance.
Of course, Quetzi agreed, but asked me to continue as we had discussed, with me, for now, taking over the lion’s share of guardianship duties for the young fourteen-year-old High Elf princess.

“Well, folks, it’s break time! Go to the bathroom, get some snacks, and we’ll continue with Mystica’s adventure!” I arose from my speaking chair and walked off the stage stairs to mingle with everyone and make a quick bathroom break and snack run myself.

***
Two days later, the hospital contacted us and said that it was time to release Mystica. Padre and I came to get her. She did not want to return to the room that she had rented with her parents, and Conner Corp had covered the charges. She wanted her prizes from the fair, especially her jumbo red dragon, and her luggage, but asked us to send the rest of her parent’s belongings, on the blimp, to Castle Zandar.
Padre said, “Mystica, wee one, we do have a small orphanage, where ya mayhap stay, free of charge, except for some chores.” Ever since coming to Carnival City, the Dwarf had tried, slipping up only when anxious or overly tired, to talk what he called “Conner English” and, except for a few scotch or Dwarf terms, avoided many of his former cultural language idioms such as rolling ares. He added, “However, Orlando has considered an option that ya mayhap will find more to yer liking, lassie!”
Mystica, her eyes widening at the mention of my name, looked my way expectantly,
I smiled warmly, “I supply a few Carnival Workers to the Carnival Grounds crew. They switch off between running the rides and games, maintenance, and after they are trained, as Bounty Hunter security.”
“I…uhh…could do that,” said Mystica hesitantly. “Basically, I would like to be as independent as possible.”
I continued, “And since you are already training as a Ranger and I am a ranger, I could continue your training. We have a guild room with gear and practice mats. Would you like to train with swords, axes, or maces.”
Mystica replied, “Basically, I can use almost any weapon, but I prefer Elven Bows, throwing daggers and swords. And I… uhh don’t like using shields. Basically, I am a dual sword fighter, if I have a choice.”
“We can arrange that. I am a long axe and mixed martial arts fighter, and I can use any kind of bow or cross bow. I am not a swordsman, and about the only thing I use a dagger for is skinning my game or cutting moccasins.
There is a ranger here, on Alpha Team, Sully Wong. He is a grand master with swords and daggers; I have arranged to have him give training, on his off time, about five hours per week in my guild. He’s not cheap, but he is a good trainer and patient.
“I am going to have the Carnival Game Computer design some hologram combatants and test your skills. Would later today, Mystica, work for you?”

Mystica grinned happily and gave me the double thumbs up victory sign.
“You can practice in the gym with some basic drills and use the free weights and machines as much as you want. I will work with you for at least a few weeks, then we will go hunting outside of the Cyclopean walls. When you have shown sufficient aptitude, I will take you along on bounty hunting quests, from Constable Cullen Conner and on guided fishing and hunting trips, that rich people from Earth hire us to guide.”
“O.K.” said Mystica. “Where am I going to stay. I have a little allowance money in my pack, but I am not earning any money yet. I won’t be able to afford to rent a room at Conner’s Inn and Suites. I don’t know how I am going to pay for the hotel money I already owe.”
I smiled again, “Don’t worry about that. Cool Man and Padre’s home fellowship group passed the hat and covered your family’s hotel bill. And Conner Corp covered most of that, so you will have money coming back.”
Mystica’s smile faltered, but she looked at Padre and said, “Thank you.”
I smiled, “My rent is considerably cheaper, but you rent by the week. And I know it is inconvenient, but only Clem has a permanent room in my rental units. Room number 1. Rooms 2 – 14 are always available. Sunday at 3 P.M. is your checkout day. You need to be moved out and into your next week’s room by midnight! Long Leon or Charlie Girl, I will introduce you to them later, take turns running the front counter. They manage the guest book and key rack.
“I am going to let you stay free until you rent your next accommodation after the weekend. For now, you get Cedric’s room. Lucky Number seven,” I tossed her a key, “is open right now, but the cleaning staff will let me know when the room is ready.
“When you check in, Mystica, which ever Inn Keeper is on duty, will have you read the short list of rules, and you will sign in to get your next room assignment.
“Conner Corp doesn’t allow apartment buildings in Carnival City; you have to rent rooms from inns by the week or join a guild. The rules are simple. Keep quiet. Don’t bother your neighbors. No pets without permission. If you break it, you pay for it. And, if you need fresh towels or fresh water, just ring the buzzer and speak with one of the room-service and cleaning ladies in the janitor’s area. And, when you leave, you don’t have to clean, just move your belongings. But don’t forget to leave a tip. And if your room is extra dirty, triple your normal tip! Don’t be a penny pincher, Mystica, or they will complain.
“Once you become an official Bounty Hunter or sign a contract with me to work on any of my crews, you get a substantial decrease in your weekly rent. I don’t know how cluttery you are, but I had to keep reminding Cedric not to collect things. The more stuff you have, the longer it takes to move each Sunday afternoon, and if you are constantly asking for help moving your stuff, the crew gets cranky. You got that Mystica?”
“Uhh. O.K., I guess, uhh, I promise to keep that in mind, Orlando,” said Mystica, as she frowned momentarily, then smiled again.
“Cedric Kerlyn, the tall fellow hobbit, is moving out today. That is why you can have his old room. Lady Quetzi Quetzicoatl, who owns “The Flying Serpent Guild,” has hired him, probationally, as a professor of Alchemy and Gadgeteering.
“Did you know Cedric is also a professional boxer! Not long after he moved in, he called me “long shanks” and challenged me to a boxing match. I told him that he’d have to stand on a table, for the competition to be fair, as he is less than five feet tall. He agreed, but it was a mock fight, and I just stepped back from the table, when he would swing at me. Everyone laughed, and then we shared supper before my Bard Show. Kerlyn doesn’t visit as often as he once did, but he still drops in occasionally.
“By the way, Mystica, you have a bag of gold and some American dollars that were, ahh, left in your family suite.” I added, “Try to save some for unexpected expenses. It would be wise not to just spend it quickly as fun money. It is yours to spend as you want, Mystica, but try to save it for when you need it. Don’t blow it all in a few days buying trinkets and food, at my inn and at the fair.”
Mystica’s eyes watered again, and her smile vanished, as she deftly palmed the heavy bag. “Padre and I will be waiting in the lobby, then we will walk over and have some lunch at my inn, The Adventurer’s Inn. Collect your stuff from the hospital room. A bell boy is supposed to drop off your luggage and jumbo red dragon at my front counter.”

CARNIVAL WORLD CHAPTER 30

This would probably be as good a time as any to finish Ari and Pips story.
As I mentioned earlier, Ari was orphaned right outside of the city gates. Jax the medic ranger, and Kai had been stationed by the gates. Several months passed, just before Cullen’s Paladins and the Conner Corp Bounty Hunter’s Guild had taken over security, so that the ranger teams would be free to map and explore the Borderlands.
Ari’s family probably would have survived, with minor injuries, when attacked by the bear, except that they had been recovering from a previous battle. Jax and Kai used the new iris scanner force – field devices, mounted to each archway, that quickly opened the shields between the interior and the exterior of the Cyclopean Wall of the Star Portal Edifice. Her father, Brucca, was a seven-foot-two Barbarian, from a village not too far from the Cryptid Penal Colony.
The village was in a neutral zone, not patrolled by the Shire Reeves. It had been overrun, after an intense battle with a bandit clan. Brucca and his wife, Tarmeerzia, a six-foot four woman with flaming red hair and great beauty. Tari, as she was called, was skilled with the spear, much more than her husband.
Both had rallied to the defense of the clan, but in the end, they had realized that for all their might, the battle was lost, and all were dead, except them. Brucca and Tari disappeared, like mournful apparitions, in the heavy, acrid, nose and throat stinging smell of heavy smoke and charred flesh and burnt wood and leather that filled the burning village.
They grabbed nine-year-old Ari from concealment and escaped. Tari had heard of people being hired for odd jobs in the old Sky Portal Fort to the south, now called Carnival City, and they had planned on journeying there to seek work.
Then several days later, when the Star Portal Edifice was just barely in sight, through the thickly canopied woods, they were trodding along weapons ready. Brucca had just grunted, “No squirrels chittering. No birds chirping. The wind is coming too us. Something is not right.”
Almost every day there had been a battle with some type of predator, but they were used to such events, and this morning they had startled a doe, which would feed them for a few meals. No time to prepare the skins or cut the antlers or make water skins, but they were thankful for a meal or two of good roasted venizen.
Suddenly a bold and arrogant Orc, dressed in shoddy mismatched armor and wielding a spiked two-handed hammer, stepped from behind a tree. Sitting down his hammer against a huge oak tree the Orc bandit asked, “Where are yous going to Brucca? And Tari. And little Ari.” The cocky Orc lifted his empty hands in a slow and overly dramatic show of peace. I just wanna talk. Don’t get nasty!” Following a throaty rumbled chuckle the Orc concluded, “The chief sent several of us out, in all different directions, to make you a job offer.”
“What talk, Brignashhyr? Aren’t you one of the bosses of the new bandit clan? We don’t have anything to talk about!”
The Orc laughed his wicked, deep guttural laugh, “I disagree, Brucca. We have unfinished business. We know that you and Tari are considered great warriors. In trade for serving my boss for one year, as a guards, we will let your wife go. And in return for one more year of service, from both of you, we has, most fairly offered, for another year of service, to let your child go free, too!”
Brucca snarled, “Either leave us be, or get your chunky Orc carcass out of my way.”
“Leave us be, Brig, ya brigand!” screamed Tari as she brandished her long spear. Tari was six four and an Amazon of a woman who taught spear skill in her village. Of course, Brucca was two inches over seven feet. Little Ari will probably make six four or better when she finishes growing. She will probably be as beautiful as her mother.
Ari, strangely cool, but hefting her short spear in one hand, and a hickory cudgel in her other, scowled and waited.
“O.K., Barbarians, have it your way,” smiled the chunky Orc wickedly and licking his prominent ivory fangs.
Two crossbowmen, hidden in the oak shrub brush and long grass along either side of the road, shot Brucca and Tari behind their knees. Ari threw her short spear into one bandit and threw her club at the other. She pierced one squarely in the chest. Ari’s blunt slammed his temple with a solid thunk that echoed in the trees.
Brucca and Tari both screamed in pain and anger, as the Orc grabbed his two-handed spiked hammer. Brucca leaped, ignoring his pain, and shoved his spear with both hands, at the Orc. The forest green Orc just barely blocked the blow, as Brucca fell heavily, with a grunt, onto the thin sandy game trail.
Brignashhyr, grinned wickedly and lifted his hammer for a killing blow. He staggered, falling dead, with Tari’s spear, thrown, one handed into his chest, a smile of victory, frozen on his dead face. The wolves that came later did not care.
Hobbling over to her husband, Tari rolled, then shook him, “Are you alive?”
“Yes, Woman! I am alive.” Turning to Ari he said, “Find us two thick wooden sticks.” He motioned with his hands, “About this long. We will need to craft crutches.”
Ari had learned early that her father was strict, but that if she was obedient, he always treated her fairly and cared about her welfare. He and her mother, had fought a few times, pummeling each other with fists, when yelling had escalated, when she was much younger, but they had learned to respect each other over the years. Ari was only nine years old, and thin as a rail, but she was well over five feet tall.
As Ari went into the woods to find the wooden branches that could be made into crutch poles, Tari hobbled over and ended the life of the second bandit crossbowman with her hunting knife.
When Ari returned, she was told to make a campfire and help them cauterize the wounds with a red-hot stick inserted into the arrow holes, after twisting off the barbs, and pulling out the bolt shafts.
Stuffing the front and back holes with moss and tying them tight with cloth and then adding another soft leather that she tied tight, Ari helped her mother with her wounds.
Both of her parents refused to scream, and her father passed out, before the procedure was finished. Tari said, after she had gagged and threw up on the ground. “It hurt more when I brought you into the world, Ari.” Both arrows had, luckily, entered without piercing the two Barbarian’s kneecaps, but had put thick holes alongside their leg bones. One under the knee and the other through the thigh above.
Ari helped carve her father’s crutch, as Tari finished cutting her armrest and using a leather cord, that she tied around a piece of deer fur, that covered the horizontal top of the crutch.
Finally, Brucca woke up and Tari and Ari were just scooping from the metal soup pot they had bartered for with the Barbarians of Trading Post. They filled up three crudely carved wooden bowls soup made with deer meat and potatoes, wild onions and carrots. Seasoned with chive tips and mineral salt, they each ate two bowls, except for Tari. Patting her swollen belly, the Barbarian woman, stretched backwards, groaning. Your little brother or sister just kicked. He or she does not like this soup and wants to escape.”
Brucca grunted, “I will finish your second bowl. Have you come up with a name? Anything but Brucca, if it is a man child. A child should have their own name.”
Teri frowned, “Bronwynn if it is a boy. And Gillygal if it is a girl.”
Brucca grunted again, but did not deign himself to comment, then finished his soup, licked out the bowl, then cleaned it with a handful of grass, before stowing it in his pack, growling at the pain caused by the movement. “Let us go. Quick clean the pot with grass, Ari and kick sand over the fire.” With a grunt and a curse Brucca struggled to his feet and tentatively leaned on his crutch. Tari did the same but did not curse.
“Time for a break, boys and girls, doggies and kitties.” I adjusted my green archer’s cap, then strummed my lute, before standing and stretching. “Be back in about twenty minutes and we will finish Ari’s story.”
***
Brucca and Tari were hobbling just past the campsite, not too far from the northwest gate, where I had camped many times. Ari was watching in front and behind her. Tari spotted the guards in the open archway. Just then the huge cave bear, who had been hiding behind a fallen log, charged them. Brucca grunted as his body tried to twist but was stopped by his injured leg. He did manage to shove the spear into the bear. It was a solid blow, that pierced the bear’s lung, but it swiped its claws across Brucca’s neck. The bear swung growling and enraged on the thick spear.
Ari threw her short spear, which lodged firmly in the bears thick, furry side, snaking between two ribs. Tari thrust her spear into the bear as well, but lost her grip on it, as she was bowled over. Ari’s mother tripped with a scream of pain, as she was thrown down. The bear whirled on the thick spear that was pinning it to the ground, and with a heavy surge, leaped up, breaking Brucca’s spear. With a clawing rake, the bear scored Tari from neck to groin, exposing the young life in her belly. Ari clouted the bear on its snout with her hickory club and pulled her mother back from a mighty claw swing. Just then Jax and Kai ran up. Kai shot the bear with his shot gun, the slug ripping through the ursine’s madly beating heart and dropped where it had stood, a hairy pin cushion, snarling and clawing in all of its feral beastly savagery.
Jax took one look at Brucca. He was gone. Tari grabbed Jax as she tried to stop her wounds, but the bear had gouged too deeply. She used her radio to order an emergency medical team, snapping, “Bring the big gurneys. Two of them.” Knowing it would be too late, she focused on comforting Tari.
Tari, looked between Ari and her dead husband, then down at her claw-raked belly, and wept. Clutching Jax by the arm she cried, “Please! Please, take care of my Ari. She is tall for her age, but she is only nine years old!” Ari clasped her arms over her chest, cried and looked away into the distance, as her mother died in Jax’ arms.
After the medical team arrived with six armed medics on the old cooking crew four-wheeler and food trailer, which had been converted into an ambulance, they placed both Brucca and Tari on the big gurneys, made especially for mountain Barbarians. “Orderlies!” snapped Jax, “Its scramble time! Get them back to the hospital. We may be able to save the child!”
Jax walked up to Ari, “Please come inside with us.”
Kai pulled Tari’s spear, the only one that had remained unbroken, from the bear and picked up the dropped hickory club. “We will give you back your weapons later,” said Kai, “I hope you understand.”
Ari nodded absently. She felt as old as her parents. Ari acquiesced and quietly followed the rangers into the Star Portal Edifice and allowed Jax to take her to the orphanage where she met Padre. Padre immediately asked her to sit on a couch, in the Cleric’s guild social room, next to a lamp table.
Another cleric came a few minutes later with food and water. About an hour later, as the red-skinned Rossi Redgem, Padre and a few others were having tea with Ari, in the common room, a nurse in earth scrubs, walked smartly into the room. Her shoes clacked on the tiles that exited the hospital wing into the common room shared by the male and female clerics guild. Opposite of the swinging doors was a large combat training area with exercise rooms. The social room had scattered chairs and couches and a long wooden table with stacks of Bibles and hymnals. At the back of the social rooms were two signs above two sturdy doors. Men’s Dormitory was above one and the other said Women’s Dormitory.
The nurse, a pretty little Latino, with a Northern Californian, Hispanic accent, gave Ari a compassionate look. Ari was sad, but neither anxious nor crying. The nurse cheerily announced, “My name is Miss Kerri Sanchez, and I am here with a wonderful announcement. Your little brother is washed up, with a new blanket, and in an incubator. He is doing just fine. Do you know his name?”
Ari looked confused for a moment, “My mother was going to name him Bronwynn. My father did not know his last name. My mother’s last name was Wolfer. I am Ari Wolfer.”
“Would you like to come to the hospital side and visit him?” asked the nurse as she scribbled the new information on her clipboard.
“Yes,” replied Ari, as she, Rossi the Dwarf Cleric and the nurse walked back into the hospital wing.
Pips story is a bit different. The Fiery Fay brought him to Padre. The “nice” goblins didn’t want anything to do with him because he was the “wrong color” and did not smell like a goblin. The Fey had taught him to help them with servants’ tasks and park maintenance within a mile radius around their village, but his strange behavior was distracting the children. Pip was smart and a quick study. You didn’t have to explain anything to him more than once. Pip kept himself clean, and he was polite, and talked like a little adult. His name, at this time, was just Boy, until after Padre had taken him in.
When asked about the “weird behavior” Padre had been told that the boy had made a shield and sword out of wood. It had, according to the Fey elder, taken the boy a while, as he was very uncoordinated, but in the end, it was an adequate job. The Fey also said the boy was obsessive about a certain dream. While he had never attacked the Fey adults or children, the boy was constantly, when he wasn’t working, practice fighting dummies he had made from branches, leaves, a broken bucket and old clothes. Or imaginary bandits and monsters. Until asked to stop by the Fey, He told everyone, every day, that Creator had told him, that when he grew up, he was going to be a knight, and that it would be his job to protect people from evil humans, monsters, and dangerous animals. And that he needed to be honest, fair, and be a good example to others.
The Fey could not understand how a pink goblin, tiny and clumsy, could ever be a knight. After only a few days an elder appeared in the Fey Ring in the Mall Commons and walked him to the orphanage, found Padre and said, “Boy is a nice boy. But he is strange. The Good Goblins won’t let him stay in their village. They just ignore him and won’t feed him. And he is just not a good fit with the Fey. Creator says, give him to Padre, and when it is time, Padre will find a new home for Boy!”
In a sparkle of light, the Fey turned into an orb, and flew away, leaving Padre and Boy looking at each other, mouths open. “Whatever will we do with ya, wee one? Ya is hardly bigger than a dice pip. Do ya have a name boy, besides Boy?”
Padre was greeted by a shy smile and then expectant silence.
“Come along Pip, me boy. Follow me. Let me introduce you to your new sister. Her name is Ari. She has said that her real name is about four syllables long, but she does nae remember what her real name is anymore. She is an orphan like you.
“She is a nice girl, laddie. Very tall. Very feisty and smart like you, Pip. She has a baby brother, but he is being taken care of by a fine Dwarf family, with another baby, who rents a room at the Economy Hotel in the northwest quadrant.
“Ari just turned ten, but she is well over five feet tall! She has grown a full inch more from when we took her in three months ago! When she grows up, Pip, she mayhap will be all o’ six and a half feet, prolly! We had to put away her spear and club. She’s a good girl, but she can’t abide bullies and thieves!
“And we can’t have her ruining her childhood by accidentally maiming or killing someone with her mother’s spear or her hickory club. We let her practice with them here in the guild, o’ course, but just don’t let her take them out of the building. Rossi the Dwarf teaches her blunt weapon and shield in the combat training room every day but Saturday and Sunday. She practices spear drills that her mother, Creator rest her soul, taught her when she was young.
“When she gets a bit older, she will be able to train others, for payment, with the spear, like her mother, Creator rest her soul. No one trains in that skill, either here or at the other theme park. And even though the spear is common among Barbarians, it is usually just a tool like a skinning knife. Very few have learned that polearm as a combat weapon o’ expertise.
“If she would stop being mad at Creator, she would mayhap make a fine Paladin one day—”
Pip smiled and exclaimed, “Creator told me that when I grow up, I am going to be a knight!”
Padre covered his mouth to hide his laughter but then said, “Creator told that to ya? A knight. Aye read a story about a knight once, but it was a fairy tale that Bard showed me. A children’s book he ordered from Earth at the Import/Export Store, in the Conner’s Inn main lobby.
Pip continued, in his normal complex adult conversation style, “When I grow up, Padre, I am going to be a knight. Creator talked to me in a dream. More than once. He said it would be my job to protect people from evil humans, monsters, and dangerous animals. And that He needed me to be honest, fair, and a good example to others.”
Padre stroked his beard hair thoughtfully. “Knights are like Paladins, Pip. But knights work for a king or a royal lady, rather than for a bishop. Cullen Conner is the Master Paladin here. And he works for his grandad, Patrick Conner.
“Paladins are kind of like me, Pip, trained for church work, but trained more for combat with shields and swords or maces. A Paladin trains as a cleric first, but then learns close combat, he does. Most clerics here, learn a bit of combat, but to be a Paladin, if they will take you in, you need to apply for membership in the Paladin’s Guild.
“They are a bit fussy unless you prove yourself and are a good fighter with mace or sword and shield already. And they must be twenty-one years to take training there. Mayhap kind o’ late, me thinks, but…”
“Now a knight, Pip, learns to be a Page first. He is a servant. Learns how to cook, do dishes, read, write and do numbers, then he or she learns about courtly behavior, and how to fix clothes like a tailor, or iron clothes like a maid, to take oot the wrinkles. And a ton o’ other menial tasks, all the while bein’ watched like a hawk for any sign of dishonesty, greed or selfish thinkin’.
“Then he learns how to sharpen weapons and fix shields and armor, like a smith, ya know. And then after he learns how to be a servant and errand boy for a knight, then he learns combat with all manner of weapons. And a special weapon, laddie, called a lance, but there be nae horses here on Carnival World. Mayhap you could tame a wild boar, instead. I had a cousin who did that once. Sarcastic and charismatic wee beastie, but a champion Dwarf Hammer Warrior, feared far and wide. Was my old king’s general and made life a livin’ hell over bandits or invaders, but he drank too much beer and ate too much meat and sweets. Got as fat as the hog he rode, and one day his heart gave out. They had a swell funeral for him, and his Hammer and Half Plate armor are on display in our royal museum at the White Dwarf Undermountain citadel.
“Or maybe a knight could ride a dragon, a dinosaur, a great cat, or mammoth. But some knights just learn the same weapons as a Paladin and never use a mount.
“Well back to me tellin’ ya about yer new sister, Ari. She doesn’t need weapons with those big, fast fists o’ hers. The wee beastie when she grows up, mayhap, will have ham fists like me friend Orlando Bard! And me friend Bard, as she helped from time to time, with his inn crew to make some spending money, the lad taught her to improve her boxing. He was oot of his mind, aye told him to his face! Now the lass is a holy terror with those fists! Cool as a cucumber, too. She does nae get mad; she just makes it her mission to fight injustice.”
Padre pulled at his beard braid, “And unless me miss me guess, ya little wee beastie, Pip me boy, ye are going to be o’ the same mindset. And ya will encourage each other.” Padre shook his head and scowled, “Creator and His Son be with us! You two will probably end up being Polish twins as I have heard the Bard say, Pip me lad!
The Dwarf cleric, grandson of the famous Ayneegh the first, continued, “Ari me lassie is usually quiet and nice as pie, but she can stare down an adult with those smoldering blue eyes o’ hers. She had a staring contest with Zales once. Zales ended up slapping his knee, laughin’ like a banshee, and then walked away, just roaring gales o’ belly bouncing guffaws!
“Almost twice as tall as you, Pip, me laddie, she is! But between you and me, Ari can’t stand it, when she sees a bully. She had duked it out with Tommy O’Field’s urchins, and she only lost to one of his small bosses. But it was hard to tell who won and who lost, me little Pip. They both had black eyes and a bloody nose. Tommy senior just told his small boss what for and told his four trainees that they should be ashamed of what they had threatened to do with our Ari, and sent his laddies home. He shook his head, placed his hands on his hips, adjusted his black stocking cap, then apologized for their behavior, and said, “Off with you now, Ari. Go back to the orphanage and clean yourself up. I won’t have any Leps left, if you keep spanking them, and sending my boys and girls home in a box, like that, but you had every right to defend yourself!
“My trainees will be put on probation. They may have just been talking it up. Maybe not. But their teacher is getting his walking papers as soon as I get back. He will probably be on the blimp, to the Irish Pub Theme Park, this afternoon or this evening. He will fit in well, until the lout crosses the line, and then he’ll end up in jail, dancing at the end of a rope, or before a firing squad.”
Both Ari and Pip stayed for a few months at Padre’s orphanage, helping with odd chores, training with the clerics with wooden maces and shields, and being given lunches and cookie breaks near where the clerics were studying Patrick Conner’s new KJV/RSV.
When Padre heard that there was a new lady in town, and a princess, with a Crystal castle, scaled with snow white gems, and multi-colored glitter, he had them both take baths in their separate room, then put on nice clothes. Excited because he had found out that Lady Quetzi, was going to open a new guild that trained knights, he knocked on her door, after breakfast, the next morning, with Ari and Pip in tow.

Padre headed back to the Cleric’s guild. Mystica and I walked briskly towards my inn. I saw Cedric, Pip, and tall Ari girl heading out the back door. Cedric was hunkered down, pushing a large wheel cart, stacked high with his possessions. Old scrolls, dinosaur hide books, glass terrariums with bugs and dried fairy pucks, an alchemy set, several small wooden chests and his hand-crafted matchlock horse pistol, that he had designed while attending Professor Conner’s Alchemy and Gadgeteering College.
While they weren’t exactly enemies, and most of the first graduating class worked as professors at Elfred’s college, Cedric had set up a tutoring class, and except when he needed to buy supplies, avoided the college.
I am not sure how Lady Quetzi found out so quickly that the young prodigy was available to serve as a professor. Lady Q has a knack for knowing ancient lore around the world and all of the secrets of any place she lives. Cedric will be a good choice for her new college. The tall-fellow hobbit had studied before coming to Carnival City under his cousin, Terlo, the Farshire Hobbit Village Gadgeteer and Smith.
Ari and little Pip were loaded down heavily with fancy bags. Poor Pip was having a hard time of it, huffing and puffing like a tiny pink train, but tall Ari was chatting amicably with Cedric.