The Reluctant Wizard

By Trina Short
Part 1

"Excuse me, Commander, we're getting an unusual transmission from the planet below."

Commander Shellon sighed. "A transmission? From a planet with level 3 technology? Double check that, Lieutenant."

"It's definitely coming from the planet. It's sending language codes and a message. I think it may be a distress signal the way it's repeating itself."

"Hmm. Get the computers to translate the language. And prepare a landing party." The Commander thought for a bit and then grinned. Any inconvenience to her "passengers" was entertainment for her. "Oh, you'd better inform Turlough and his team about this too. I'm sure he'll be pleased with the delay."

The planet Arganfi slowly turned under the Trion Zed-class Science vessel. The ship adjusted its speed and trajectory until it was in geostationary orbit over the origin of the transmission point. Turlough glared at the blue-green planet.

"Typical. You look like Earth. And you're as much of an irritation."

The young woman hovering behind him asked, "Is there a problem, sir?"

"Yes, there is. And stop calling me 'sir.'"

"Is there anything I can do?" Caryl asked.

Turlough grinned maliciously. "Yes, make that planet disappear. Then we can get to Magna 745 in time to record its collapse into the event horizon. And do sit down. You're making me nervous."

Caryl abruptly sat. "Sorry. I'm just nervous. This is my first expedition. I don't want to screw it up."

His smile became more gentle. "Don't be nervous. You're one of the finest young physicists Trion has to offer. And you've been personally taught by the best. So don't worry."

Caryl smiled back. Turlough was her teacher, and, despite his egotistical claim, he was right.

"So why are we stopping here, sir? I mean, Turlough."

"The ship's received a distress call. We have to stop." He sighed heavily. "I've read the specs on this place. They shouldn't have the technology to send out a distress. I think the planet's doing this deliberately."

Caryl was about to object when she noticed his smile. "Maybe it's something we can deal with quickly. We've still got a few days before Magna 745 collapses."

Turlough nodded. He stood and headed for the door to the corridor.

"Are you coming?" he asked.

"Sure." She jumped up and followed him to the bridge.

The Evensong bells rang out over the village of Anthil. The Baron deGiovan looked out his window and sighed. Then he turned back to his astronomer. "Beckett, are you sure about this? You've always told me that the stars were not omens set by the gods but rather," he laughed, "miniature suns."

Beckett nodded. "And I still stand by this. But there is one star that is new. And it is getting nearer. You have heard, I'm sure, the old tales of strangers arriving from the stars? I believe this to be an indication of such a visit. And if it is, the strangers may bring technology that will far surpass anything the Fiorenzans have."

"So you say. I have seen none of this yet." The Baron laughed again. "You are playing sport with me. Fairy stories of visitors from space?" He slapped his hand down on his desk and the astronomer jumped. "I do not pay you to tell me fairy stories."

Beckett backed away instinctively. "I swear, sire, the old books ..."

"Prattling and nonsense."

He cleared his throat. "The old books tell of such lights and the arrival of strangers to the villages."

The Baron rubbed his graying black beard and thought awhile. Beckett shuffled his feet while he awaited the decision.

"If you are wrong, I'll have you killed, of course."

"Of course. But I thought you should know. So you can prepare. The old books tell of the kindness of some..."

"I am doing this, not because of old books, but because you have been a good subject to me these many years. And because I need technology and weaponry. Anything that I can use against the other baronies. We are a small village, Beckett. But we could be so much greater."

Beckett nodded and left the room.

"Have you assigned the landing party?" the Commander asked.

"Yes, sir. Marko and Harmon. They both speak Wingalli, which is very similar to the language of the planet." The Lieutenant cringed when she saw Turlough and his young assistant enter the bridge.

"Wingalli? I am quite familiar with the tongue. And I believe Caryl knows it as well." Turlough smiled at Shellon. "Please include us on the landing team."

The commander frowned. "I will do no such thing. We cannot be sure that this distress signal isn't a trap, so I refused to let civilians..."

"I am hardly a civilian, Commander. Lest you forget, I outrank you." On Trion, scientists were considered a military asset, despite their pacifist leanings. Therefore, they all had military rank.

"I haven't been allowed the luxury of forgetting that, Turlough. But I refuse to send men down there who don't know how to defend themselves. And I know you will not carry weaponry."

Turlough grimaced. "True. I cannot speak for Caryl, but I don't like guns."

"Good. Now, please get off my bridge so that I may brief my landing party."

"However, in this circumstance," Turlough took a laser pistol from a shoulder holster hidden under his jacket, "I think I'll come prepared for anything."

Caryl gasped, surprised.

The commander looked at Turlough, also surprised. "Is it loaded?"

Turlough pulled the power pack off the pistol and discharged some of it, setting his hand aglow in harmless sparks. "Hmm, would seem to be, wouldn't it?" He replaced the power pack on the weapon.

"If either of my men are injured, or, heaven forbid, killed because of some crazy stunt that you or your assistant pull, I will personally kill you myself. Am I understood?"

"Perfectly, Commander." He double checked that the safety was engaged and put the pistol back into his holster. "Now, I believe you said something about a briefing?"

The transmitter blinked quietly in the dark alcove in which it had been hidden. The door opened and light shone upon it.

"Ah good, it's still working. Just a little while longer and you'll be joined by more and, perhaps, better technology." The voice was barely a whisper as a hand idly dusted the top of the device.

The door to the alcove was shut once again.

"Oh daddy! Can I please come and meet the Star Strangers with you?" Margwyth entreated her father.

Baron deGiovan smiled at his beloved treasure but shook his head. "I'm sorry, my dear. We still do not know if these Strangers will assist us. Hell, we aren't even sure this light moving toward us contains people. Beckett has never been wrong before, but this is so farfetched even Desmoni won't believe it."

"That witch has no imagination. She..." Margwyth stopped abruptly when she saw the older woman walk into the meeting room.

"Giovan, are we going to go now? These so called Star Strangers shouldn't be kept waiting." Desmoni laughed.

"I don't think you'll be laughing so hard when you actually see them!" Margwyth pushed past the witch and ran up to her room.

Desmoni laughed harder. "That foolish girl. She still has a lot to learn about the real world."

The Baron frowned. "There's not much in this village to interest a young person. I can understand her desire that these Star Strangers be real. When I was her age..."

"When you were her age, you knew better than to believe in fantasy. You often saw through my 'tricks' when others were deceived. That is why you will go far, without need of any Star Strangers."

"Without more men or weapons, I can never take over Fiorenza. And without land, I can have no power. So I must rely on help from outside sources. Beckett says these Star Strangers will help us. I will believe him until he proves me false."

"If you trust your astronomer so much, why have you sent for the entire militia to join us at the rendezvous?"

"I may trust my advisors, but I am no fool."

Desmoni nodded as she followed her baron to where the ball of light was heading.

"Sensors show at least 40 life forms gathering at our landing site." Lt. Harmon said, glancing at the computer display while he scratched at his cheek. He was the only member of the crew who wasn't Trion and was covered from head to toe with hair.

Marko grimaced. "I don't like the look of that. They're probably armed." Unlike most Trions, she was rather tall and fit uncomfortably in the small shuttle control room.

Harmon laughed. "You don't trust anyone, do you? I thought we Regallans were supposed to trust no one."

"Except Trions," she grinned.

"Who says we trust you lot? People who base their entire economy on science. That's just creepy." Harmon laughed again. It was an age-old dispute he had with the ship's navigator.

"Speaking of creepy, what do you think of our two guests? I always heard that Turlough wasn't much of an action man."

Harmon looked around to make sure neither of the other shuttle guests were listening. "Depends on which magazines you subscribe to. There's one on Regal that is quite entertaining. The holosimulations are especially impressive. Though I think they exaggerate some things."

"I don't think I want to know which 'things' are exaggerated." She looked at the specs coming in from the sensors. "Looks like we've got the ideal place to land. If those people stay out of the way, that is."

"Ahem." The sound distracted the pilots from their work momentarily.

"Do you mind, sir? We're about to land. You'd best get yourself and your young friend strapped in." Harmon put on his most polite voice. Which wasn't an easy thing for a Regallan to do.

"Sorry. I was just checking to see your progress." Turlough backed out of the control room and headed back to the slightly larger cargo hold.

"We're landing. Better get buckled up."

Caryl nodded and hooked her safety harness together. Turlough sat beside her and did the same.

"Looks like we won't have a secret landing. I heard Marko mention people at the site."

"That doesn't sound good." Caryl stared out the window across from them. Planet fall was always a beautiful sight. But she didn't feel as confident as she felt she should.

"Don't worry. Marko and Harmon are highly trained pilots. At the first sign of trouble, they'll get us out of here. Remember, these people put out a distress signal. They need our help. And they're very primitive. So any weaponry they have can't compare to ours."

"So why don't you sound as optimistic as your words?"

"Was it that obvious?" He followed her gaze to the window, and watched as the trees grew closer and closer. With a small thud and shudder, the shuttle landed.

As the Trion shuttle landed, many of the Anthil militia ran off. The Baron despaired.

"Don't be afraid men!" the Baron shouted. "These Star Strangers are here to help us. We must stand our guard. If we show fear, they may think us unworthy and leave us to our fate."

"What if they use great magic upon us and kill us all?" someone shouted from the back of the ranks.

"They will do no such thing. I have brought Desmoni here to protect us from any such spells. Besides, they are only here at my request. Were I to tell them to leave, they would leave."

Several of the men were comforted by the Baron's words. Half of the militia had already fled back to the village. But those who remained stood tall and readied their weapons.

"They don't look too frightening," Harmon said.

Turlough chuckled. "More frightened than frightening."

Marko shook her head. "I still don't like it. People this primitive shouldn't have transmitters. Or barring that, shouldn't know how to use any that they find. I don't like this situation one bit."

"Well, have you scanned for energy sources?" Turlough asked. Marko nodded. "And you didn't find any?"

"Not in this region, no. There does seem to be a huge tunnel system deep beneath this land. Much like our planetary transport system. But I detect no energy from it."

Harmon drummed his fingers on the console. "So this is one of those fallen civilization things, right? Where the ancestors were more advanced than their descendants."

"Could be. Could be something else," Turlough replied. "I guess we'll have to find out for ourselves. Are we agreed?"

Harmon nodded enthusiastically. He preferred the social sciences to the hard sciences any day. Caryl nodded her agreement as well. But Marko held out.

"Like I said earlier, I don't like this. I say we just leave now, go visit your collapsing star, and get home."

Turlough sighed. "Unfortunately, as much as I agree with you, we have to investigate the distress call. Until these people actively pose a threat to us, we have to help them in any way we can."

"You don't consider the weapons a threat?"

"Not until they actually point them at us. Besides, they can't harm our ship with those."

She grunted. Then she grabbed her holster and gun. "Harmon and I will leave first. If either of us is attacked, get the ship out of here."

"Agreed."

The Baron stood, flanked by his bodyguards, at what he thought was the mouth of the ship. For all his bravado in talking to his men, he was as frightened as a two-year old. He hoped this would not be his undoing. He cleared his throat and then spoke.

"Star Strangers! I, Baron Giovan deGiovan welcome you to Anthil. We thank you for coming to our aid in this, our time of greatest need."

The "mouth" of the ship opened. As the light spilled out into the darkness, the Baron and his men shielded their eyes. Two shapes appeared in the light and slowly came forward. The Baron smiled when he noticed they were men. Well, one man and one woman. Actually, the man seemed unusual, but the woman - he inhaled sharply. She was the most beautiful creature he'd ever seen.

"Baron Giovan deGiovan," the woman called out. "We are representatives from the planet Trion. We are here on a mission of aid. Please tell your soldiers to put down their weapons and we will put ours away as well."

Weapons? The Baron noticed no weapons on the two strangers. Unless those short metal sticks were weapons. He signaled for his men to lower their swords and pikes. The two strangers put the metal sticks into their top coverings. Then they walked closer to the Baron and his entourage.

"Welcome to Anthil," he stammered as the woman looked him in the eye. "As you see, we mean you no harm as well."

"That's good to know," she replied. "We'll tell the other two people in our party it is safe for them to leave the ship."

The funny looking man yelled something incoherent and two other shapes left the brightness of the ship. Another man and a woman with the darkest skin he'd ever seen. He thought she too was beautiful, though not as beautiful as the tall woman before him now.

"I am Lt. Marko and this is Lt. Harmon." They both saluted as they introduced themselves. The Baron tried to emulate the salute in return.

The other couple arrived at the entourage. Harmon did the introductions this time. "This is Baron Giovan deGiovan. Baron, this is Turlough and Caryl. They are scientists who were traveling with our ship and wished to assist you as well."

The Baron wasn't sure, but he thought he heard the beauty, Marko, snicker. She said something in a strange tongue and saw Harmon grin and the red-haired man, Turlough, frown.

"It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance," Caryl said as she was introduced. She nudged Turlough and he shook the Baron's hand as well.

The Baron grinned at the four strangers. The meeting was going better than he'd hoped. He started introducing the strangers to his key officers and to Desmoni. They sent a runner off to the village to organize a banquet for their new friends.

"Oh Beckett! Isn't it wonderful news?" Margwyth cried as she rushed into his observatory. "You were right about the Star Strangers! They have arrived and they want to help us. It's just as you said."

Beckett looked alarmed. "They're here already? Have they come to the castle yet?"

"Not yet. But they are on their way. We're going to have a wonderful banquet for them. It's so exciting! There are two men and two women. And the women are said to be more beautiful and exotic than anything in Fiorenza. And one of the men looks like a gerbil and the other has fiery red hair. And they have weapons that are so small, they wear them under their jerkins."

"That is good news. Good news indeed." He bowed to the young lady. "If you'll excuse me. I have to get some things done before the banquet begins."

"Of course. I'll see you there!" She ran from the room, heading for the banquet hall.

In the office of the director of the Custodians, the oversight committee was in discussion.

"Dead? Murdered or by natural causes?" Sagre, the director, asked.

"Murdered," replied Nameth, the secretary of the committee.

The director sighed. "Dubois, murdered. He was a good Custodian."

The committee's chief investigator, Yagher, spoke. "Bryerly's militia was unable to find the murderer. And we found out about it too late to discover anything ourselves."

"What about his apprentice? Samuel, isn't it?"

"He's very upset. I've appointed him Custodian until we can get someone with more experience there."

The director nodded his approval. "Do you think the murderer knew what he was? Was anything stolen from him?"

"Samuel doesn't think so," Yagher replied. "But..." he paused. "Look, I know you liked Dubois. But he didn't always do things the Custodial way. He always had a fascination with gadgets."

"I know."

"If he had something... He probably kept it a secret from Samuel. It's possible someone might have taken it. Though I doubt anyone but a Custodian would understand how any of the ancient technology worked."

Nameth tapped his quill on the table. "You suspect a Custodian?"

"I don't know who to suspect. And I need to get back to Bryerly to continue my investigation."

"So be it," the director said. "Send us a message as soon as you discover more."

Samuel Garret paced back and forth in his room. With Dubois dead, his future with the Custodians was uncertain. And that Yagher had asked too many questions. Samuel was probably his prime suspect.

"Damn you, Dubois! May your ghost never find peace." If he wasn't made a Custodian, he'd have to join the militia and be yet another soldier in his father's regiment. He punched the wall, barely noticing the pain. Someone was going to pay for their crime. But who? He tried to think of everyone who'd recently talked with his old teacher. Too many names. Too many faces. He slumped down onto his cot and cradled his now throbbing hand.

Margwyth stood at the back of the banquet hall, trying to catch a glimpse of the Star Strangers. This was the most exciting day of her life, and it was only beginning. She waved as she saw Desmoni enter the hall. The witch moved through the crowd of people to be near her.

"So what are they like?" Margwyth asked, peering again at the front doorway.

"Three of them look as human as we do. The fourth is hairier than your father. And he has sharp teeth like a wolf. But he would seem to be the friendliest one of the group. The tall female, the one your father hasn't stopped gawking at, looks upon us as barbarians who would attack them from behind at the slightest word. The other man has an air of importance about him. He probably feels we are inferior beasts or something. The dark girl is very quiet. I have not figured her out yet. She seems to be as in awe of us as we are of her."

"I cannot wait to meet them." She squinted into the crowds again. "Oh my! There they are!" She grabbed hold of Desmoni's sleeve and yanked it as she jumped up and down. "Oh, I must go and meet them. This is so wonderful!"

"No. Your father sent me ahead to stop you from doing such a foolish thing. You are a young lady. You will wait for them to come to you. Do not behave like these peasants." Desmoni pointed to the main banquet table, and Margwyth regretfully moved to her seat. She wouldn't be able to see anything from that vantage point.

"This is not the reception I was expecting. Were you?" Caryl held tightly to Turlough's arm as she spoke to him in Trion.

"Not by a long shot, no. But we might as well enjoy it while they aren't trying to kill us." He smiled as someone held a baby up to his face. He wasn't sure what the native wanted him to do with it, so he crossed himself as he'd seen others do on Earth and hoped that was sufficient. The woman thanked him and kissed his hand.

Caryl was looking at him in surprise.

"It's a GIFt," he admitted.

They were led through the crowd toward an enormous banquet hall. Desmoni and a young woman with long blonde hair were already seated.

"Friends," the Baron's voice boomed through the hall. "I would like you to meet my daughter, Margwyth." She looked as though she was going to stand, but Desmoni's hand kept her seated.

As she was introduced to the strangers, she held fast to Turlough's hand, reluctant to give it up.

The Baron patted him hard on the back. "I see that she fancies you," he whispered in a voice that was only heard by half of the people in the hall. "Now dear, he's going to need that hand if he's to eat breakfast with us."

She finally let go of him and then insisted that Desmoni move down a seat so that Turlough could sit next to her. He shrugged at Caryl, who was looking furious at this turn of events.

"You're enjoying this too much," she whispered to him as she was moved to the other side of Marko.

He waved in reply.

"I don't see what you see in him, Caryl," Marko said as she sat down.

She sighed. "No, I don't suppose you do."

The Baron was the last to be seated, as per tradition. He sat in the middle of the table, with Marko to his right and Margwyth to his left. He turned to face Marko and smiled broadly.

Before he could say anything, the servants brought out the first course.

Harmon had noticed that people were speaking by shouting across the tables to each other and decided to follow suit.

"Turlough!" he called out from his seat next to Caryl. "You know primitive cultures better than the rest of us. Which of these foods is safe to eat?"

"Damned if I know. I would guess those fruit-like things are safe. You might like that red meat too."

"Fruit? Who wants that?" he shouted back, grabbing the roast meat and putting it on his plate as he saw the Baron do.

Many of the people at the other tables laughed as the strangers yelled back and forth to each other. The Baron was laughing the loudest. He slapped Marko on the back just as she was attempting to eat some of the green fruit.

"I can see your people will fit in well." He let his hand linger for a bit on her back before returning to his food.

Marko turned to Caryl. "Get me out of here. Now!"

After breakfast, the strangers were given rooms in the castle and allowed to freshen up. The Baron had asked if he could talk with them at the noon hour to discuss something of great importance. So the Trions had a bit of time to themselves.

Caryl was sitting on Turlough's bed. She still hadn't forgiven him for his behavior at breakfast.

"When in Rome, do as the Romans," he said.

"Where's Rome?"

"I'm not really sure. Somewhere in Europe I think." She still looked confused. "On Earth."

"Oh. There." She never really liked it when Turlough talked about Earth. It was like an in-joke that only he knew. It always showed just how little she knew about her mentor. And that grated on her.

Turlough flopped down on the bed beside her. Then he lay back and rested his head on the pillows. "Ah, comfort. I was afraid this might be made with straw. I hate sleeping on straw."

"So, what's the plan? Apart from sleeping and eating too much?"

"Plan? Well, I guess that all depends on what the Baron wants to talk with us about."

There was a fierce knock on the door.

"Who is it?" Turlough asked in Wingalli

"Your worst nightmare," Marko replied in Trion.

"Oh, then you can't come in."

Caryl got up and unbolted the door. Marko and Harmon were standing there. They both still looked harried.

"Hope we weren't interrupting anything," Harmon said.

"You weren't," Caryl said, trying to hide her disappointment.

The Regallan smiled and patted her on the shoulder.

"So, what's the plan?" Marko asked as she pulled a pillow from under Turlough's head and sat on it on the floor.

"We don't know yet."

"Well, these people don't look like they need any help. Let's just leave."

Turlough shook his head. "Not until we hear what the Baron has to say."

"Look, we've not found any signs of disease in this village. There don't seem to be any marauding armies attacking. And the planet isn't experiencing any dire geological occurrences. So what do these people need?"

Harmon grinned. "Margwyth needs a husband. I heard one of the militia telling that to another."

Marko liked the idea. "Good, then we leave Turlough here and the rest of us go back."

"No, that doesn't sound like a good idea at all." Turlough was sitting up now and staring daggers at Marko.

Caryl smiled thinly. "Why not? You seemed to enjoy her company at breakfast. I think you two make a cute couple."

Marko looked ready to disagree with that sentiment when Harmon cleared his throat.

"I think we need to do as Turlough says. Wait to see what the Baron needs. We certainly don't need to be arguing amongst ourselves. We're supposed to be the civilized people here."

"Thank you, Harmon," Turlough said. "You're very sensible. I think we all could use some sleep before our noon meeting. Being cooped up in a shuttle for several hours and then shoved into a crowded room full of loud people has gotten all of us a bit on edge." The others nodded their agreement. "Let's meet back here in 3 hours. Then we'll meet with the Baron."

"Isn't he the most beautiful man you've ever seen?" Margwyth said to Desmoni.

The witch laughed. "Not by far, my dear. I think you are letting your imagination take liberties."

"I am not! He is everything I've been looking for in a man."

"You mean he's a foreigner. There's nothing else you know about him to judge him with."

Margwyth pouted. "You don't understand anything! Turlough is... He was so kind. And he seems to like our people. You saw how he fit in well at breakfast."

Desmoni sighed and then hugged the young woman. "Oh, the innocence of youth. I wish I had your optimism."

"What if he doesn't love me? Whatever shall I do?"

"Love? Why you've only just met him. Why think of love?"

Margwyth sobbed. "He's my only chance to get away from this place. He has to love me!"

"Your father would not approve of this. You have to stay here. He has been working on a marriage for you. The son of Baron Brenmore is only 10, but you are the youngest noble daughter around."

"Oh ick! Live in Bryerly for the rest of my life? That's the only place worse than Anthil! You have to help me. Turlough must take me with him." Desmoni tapped her upper lip as she thought about this. "Are you sure you want him to love you?"

"Oh yes! Is there anything you can do?"

"Well, I do have a recipe for a love potion. It's very potent. But it doesn't always give you the results you want."

"Please, Desmoni! You must use it. Then Turlough will have no choice but to take me with him."

"I can try. But if your father finds out I'm responsible..."

"He'll never know. I swear it."

The Baron and his generals and Turlough and his party arrived at the meeting hall at noon. They sat across from each other at a very large wooden table.

"I wish to again extend you the hand of friendship," the Baron began. "We appreciate you listening to our problems."

"Which are?" Turlough asked.

"The town of Fiorenza is to our East. It is a much bigger village, and as such, has been oppressing our small village for decades. They steal our young men and conscript them into their own army. They rape our women at every convenience. And they take whatever food or money that we can make for ourselves. We have tried to defend ourselves, but our army, as you may have noticed, is very small and consists of old men and inexperienced young men."

"So it's a petty border war?" Marko asked, disappointed.

One of the generals took offense. "It's oppression! We have never attacked Fiorenza. Our people are peaceful, but you can see what that's gotten us."

Turlough waved a placating hand. "Yes, we can see that you do need help. But I'm really not sure what assistance we can give you. Like you, we are pacifists. We do not make weapons of war, except for the occasional defensive device. And, apart from our pistols, we have no other weapons." He grunted as Marko kicked him under the table.

"Don't tell them we have no weapons, idiot!" she hissed in Trion. "They'll just capture us if they find us no threat."

The Baron was looking thoughtful as he stroked his beard. "You have technology that no one on this world has ever seen. Even if it does not consist of weaponry, it should put fear into their hearts. How would they be able to tell if what you have is not a weapon?"

Turlough nodded. "You mean we should bluff them."

The Baron smiled. "I think that's a very good idea."

"So, do you think we're doing the right thing, Turlough?" Caryl asked during the afternoon banquet.

"These people seem friendly enough. Though I do agree with Marko - there doesn't seem to be any sign of oppression. At least they haven't insisted we gear them up with weaponry."

"True."

"But what I want to know is who sent us the distress signal? These people are so primitive. They certainly wouldn't know what a transmitter was if they saw it. Let alone activate it."

"I know. Is it still transmitting?"

"No. It cut out just after we landed. But I can say that it originated somewhere in or near this castle."

"Peculiar." Caryl looked around the banquet hall. "Where's your friend, Margwyth?"

"Over in the corner, trying to find me. She's insisting that I dance with her. I don't know how to dance."

"Oh, so that's why you were slouching. I just thought you had bad posture."

A heavy hand clapped Turlough on the shoulder. It was one of the Baron's generals, Sir Terril. "So, what do you think of our village?"

"It's um, quite nice."

"Looks like young Margwyth's taken with you. Shall I call her over here?" He smiled in a friendly way.

"Not necessary." Turlough took another drink of the fruit juice he'd been cradling. He debated getting the fermented kind that Harmon seemed to prefer.

Caryl was enjoying her friend's discomfort. She looked around the banquet hall at all the unusual people in their unusual costumes. One man in particular took her eye.

"Certainly he isn't that well endowed," she muttered, motioning to the man with the large codpiece.

"Endowed? Hah, ma'am. He has had one too many indiscretions with Madame Marvolo's luscious ladies," the general bellowed.

"I beg your pardon?" Caryl asked.

Turlough nudged her. "I'll explain later." He smiled at Terril and said, "I'm sure you can hold a lot of medicine in that."

The soldier slapped Turlough hard on the back. "That you can, my lad. That you can!"

Turlough began to think. Perhaps there was a way to discourage Margwyth's intentions.

"Well, I must be off," the general said as he stood up. "I have a training session with my men to attend. I'll see you both tonight at the ball?"

Caryl nodded. "See you later." When the general was gone, she asked Turlough, "What's on your mind?"

"Codpieces." Caryl raised an eyebrow, but said nothing.

The Baron burst into Desmoni's work place. "Ah, things are going very well. The Trions have said they will consider helping us. It is certainly better than saying no and flying back to the stars."

"That is good news. And how are you going to convince them to help on your attack against Fiorenza?"

"Ah, that's where I need your help, witch." He sniffed and motioned to the cauldron simmering on the fire. "What is that you are making? Smells of paint."

"It's a..." She smiled as an idea entered her head. "It's a love potion."

"Love potion? Whatever for?"

"Beckett. He has taken a fancy to that dark girl. He's asked that I insure that she feels the same for him."

The Baron rubbed his beard. "Love potion? Do you suppose it would work on Marko? Ever since my wife died..." he shook himself from his reverie. "And if I could get her on my side, the Trions would certainly help us."

"Yes, that would be an advantage," she said, knowingly. "If it works on Caryl, it should work on Marko as well."

Margwyth ran into the room. "Oh! Father! I didn't know you were here."

The Baron pinched her cheek. "I was just settling an affair of state. I need to be going now." He addressed the witch. "So things will be set for tonight?"

"Yes. Everything will be in place."

"Good." He smiled at his daughter and left the room.

After she could no longer hear his footsteps, Margwyth asked, "How is it going? I barely got to talk to him five minutes at lunch. I can't stand being away from him for this long."

The witch clicked her tongue. "Patience, my sweet. Fiorenza wasn't made in a day." She stirred the solution bubbling in her cauldron.

"Is that it?" the girl asked.

"This is it. A few drops in the stranger's wine and he shall love only you."

"Wonderful! When will you give it to him?"

"During the ball tonight. Then Turlough will ask you to dance, and you can ask anything of him that you wish."

"I shall ask him to take me as far from this place as is possible."

"There is more to a man than his destinations."

"So? Right now, that is all I care about."

Desmoni sighed. "My dear, I really do need to tell you what is the most important thing about men. Let's talk."