The Reluctant Wizard

By Trina Short
Part 2

Samuel entered the Bull and Blowpipe and sat at the table he and Dubois always took. After awhile, Zuzu, the serving girl, arrived to give him his ale.

"Ah'm so sorry about Dubois, Samuel. 'e was always a gentleman."

"Yeah, he was."

"You two was always so tight, too. The only time Ah ever saw him without you was when he was drinking with that odd little feller."

He looked up from his ale. "What odd little fellow?"

"Oh, Ah don't know who he was. Someone from out of town, Ah'd gather. Never seen him 'afore."

"Did they seem friendly?"

"Like they was best friends. The little feller kept buying Dubois drinks. Ah dunno what they was talking about, but they kept drawing on paper. Ah thought that was funny."

"Did you tell the militia this? Or my," he paused, then sneered, "friend, Yagher?"

"No. No one asked me about it."

"Do you know what village the stranger was from?"

She shook her head. "Ah just assumed he was from Fiorenza or Anthil."

"Anthil? Why there?" It was the closest village to Bryerly, but the inhabitants preferred to go to Fiorenza, the big city.

"Well, you know, 'e seemed to be country folk. Not like a bigwig from the city."

"Thanks, Zuzu. You've given me something to think about."

The Baron passed Beckett in the corridor. "You devil, you. Taking matters into hand like that."

The astronomer looked shocked. "What do you mean?"

"Desmoni told me all about it. In fact, she's going to fix me up with Marko."

"Ah." He still wasn't sure what his Baron meant.

"It seems only fitting that you get something out of this as well, since you were the first to spot the Star Strangers."

"I agree..."

"And yes, Caryl is quite a beauty. If Marko were not on this trip, I'm sure I would have taken to her as you have."

Beckett was finally starting to understand. "So, will the..." he took a chance, "love potion be ready in time?"

"Yes. Tonight is the night. I wish only the best for you and Caryl."

"Thank you. That reminds me, I'd better check on Desmoni to see if she needs anything else." He bowed to his Baron and headed for the witch's workshop.

Caryl knocked on Turlough's door. After a bit, she heard him ask who was there.

"It's only me."

"Thank goodness. Get in here and help me with this thing."

When she entered the room, she found him halfway dressed in native clothing.

"What are you doing?"

"When in Rome..."

She grinned. "Um, what is that thing on the bed?"

"Ah, the biggest codpiece that Terril could find. I'm hoping to put Margwyth off me. He thought I was crazy to ask for it. No woman in her right mind would come within ten meters of me wearing it."

Caryl laughed. "You're making a rather big, heh, assumption, aren't you?"

"About what?"

"That Margwyth is in her right mind. After all, she does have a thing for you, and she's only just met you."

Turlough grimaced as he tried to get the codpiece on.

"It's a shame they don't have these fashion accessories on Trion. It's a good way to peruse the goods before buying."

"Caryl!"

She reached forward and squeezed the end of the enormous codpiece. "Oh darn, it doesn't make any funny noises or light up or anything. Well, I'm sure when we get it back home, we can make improvements on it."

"I wish you'd grow up."

"Grow up? I'm not the one wearing an enormous phallus to impress the Baron's daughter."

"Impress her? I'm trying to get rid of her!"

"Shall I tell you what I heard Desmoni telling her on my way over here? About the one true GIFt that a man has? And she said nothing of sexually transmitted diseases or the poultices that men have been known to wear to combat them."

When she looked back at her mentor, she saw he was as red as his hair.

"So, I'll just wear the small one, then?"

Caryl laughed as she left him to his codpieces.

Caryl liked the idea "going native" and went to see Margwyth about borrowing a dress.

"Oh! What a wonderful idea! Do you think Marko wants to do the same? Only I don't have anything that would fit her. She's very tall." Margwyth ran over to her wardrobe and began to take out dress after dress.

"I'm fairly sure that Marko would not be interested in dressing up. She and Harmon even remain in uniform when they are on leave. It's probably one of the main reasons she and Turlough don't get along. She has a strong sense of duty and a huge respect for authority. Turlough doesn't."

"He doesn't need to. He's authoritative. A leader, not a follower."

Caryl chuckled. "He's more of a loner than a leader. He likes to do things his way. Oh, he'll work with a team, but only on his terms."

Margwyth sat down on the bed as Caryl sorted through the dresses.

"Do you think he could love someone as boring as me?" she asked.

"Boring? Where did you get that from?"

"Oh, compared to you and Marko and Harmon, I am just so common. I mean, I love your skin, it's so beautiful. I know there are others on Arganfi who are dark like you, but I've never seen them. I've always wanted to. And Marko - she is so beautiful. Oh! Not to say that you aren't! But she's taller than most of my father's soldiers, and probably just as fierce. And Harmon - he's so funny!"

Caryl sat down next to the young woman. "You may think of yourself as boring, but you aren't. People like Marko and Harmon are common on Trion. And Turlough has to put up with me every day. You're the one who is exotic." She sighed.

Margwyth, nearly in tears, pulled Caryl into a tight hug. "Oh Caryl, you're so sweet. Thank you."

Samuel levered up the loose floorboards under Dubois' bed. He wondered why he hadn't thought to check there first. There was a hiding space there, as he had suspected, but very little remained.

He took out the loose sheets of paper and looked through them. Most of the handwriting he recognized as Dubois. Then a very small sheet fell onto the floor. It was covered in sketches and numbers, but the handwriting wasn't his teacher's.

Then he recognized one of the sketches - a very primitive map. And the labeled landmarks could only indicate one village. Anthil...

It was finally time for the grand ball to begin. Tomorrow, the village would prepare to fight back against the oppressors from Fiorenza, but tonight was a night to celebrate. The upper-class and the officers from the militia were all dressed in their finest clothes. The kitchen had been working all day preparing the feast. And the musicians were playing loud and fast.

Desmoni herself served the guests their wine. She said it was an honor for her to do so. She didn't tell them about the added potion, of course.

"Um, Harmon, do you notice anything different about Caryl?" Turlough asked after sipping at his wine.

"Well, that's a nice frock she's got on, isn't it? Sets off her eyes, don't you think?"

Turlough said nothing, but downed his drink in one go.

"Why don't you ask her to dance?"

He looked appalled. "Dance? I can't dance."

"What? Anyone can dance!" And with that, the Regallan began hopping about from foot to foot, nearly in time to the music.

From the woman's table, Caryl turned to Marko. "Isn't that cute? Harmon's dancing. I think. Either that, or Turlough stepped on his foot."

Marko laughed. "No, he's dancing. It's not a pretty sight." She sipped at her wine. "Oh my."

"What is it?" Caryl asked.

"The Baron's daughter. What's her name. She certainly cleans up well."

"Margwyth." Caryl looked with pride at the young woman as she entered the hall. After they'd picked out the ideal dress for her, they worked on finding the right one for Margwyth. They'd done a very fine job of it. Everyone had turned to see her. Well, nearly everyone.

"Sorry about that, Turlough. Didn't mean to step on your foot." Harmon was bending over to talk to the Trion.

"I wouldn't have thought it would hurt so much with your big feet. But these shoes are so flimsy."

"Sorry. Say, doesn't the Baron's daughter look lovely tonight?"

Turlough screwed up his face. "Well, I guess if you go for that sort of thing. She should take a lesson or two from Caryl."

Harmon chuckled as he went to mingle with the crowd.

Caryl waved her fingers in front of Marko's face. "Shuttle craft to Lt. Marko. Do you read me?"

"Sorry, all transmissions at this time are nonfunctional. Please call back later." Marko finally turned away and looked at Caryl. "I'm sorry. I never saw myself as going for that type. I don't usually go for fragile and pretty. Probably the wine."

Caryl smiled. "Could be. I mean, I never thought the Baron looked good until tonight."

"You mean Turlough has competition?"

"Turlough who?" She laughed as they walked through the crowd to see the Baron and his daughter.

Harmon, on his fifth flagon of wine, had just found his new best friend. "I tell ya, Beckett, the stars are pretty fickle. If I were you, I'd stick to telling the fortune with entrails. They're so much more reliable."

Beckett laughed. "Well, if I were an astrologist, I'd take your word for it. But I see no future in the stars, merely the past."

"Bloody scientists. I thought you primitive folk were supposed to be fun. Turns out you're just like Trions only with more comfortable clothes."

He laughed again. He looked around for Desmoni and wondered if she'd notice anything amiss.

Yagher slowed his horse as he reached the clearing. He'd talked with Todo, the Custodian for Fiorenza, on his way back to Bryerly. There had been a "shooting star" that had landed near the village of Anthil, he'd said. Yagher was fairly certain that the large silver cylinder in front of him was the cause of that shooting star.

"This is not good," he muttered to his horse. He thought about going into Bryerly and getting Samuel. No, it would take too long. He needed to find out what was going on quickly. He moved his horse in the direction of the village.

"Ah! Marko! It's good to see you tonight. You look lovely!" The Baron smiled as the two ladies came over.

She nodded civilly to him and then came closer to his daughter. "I must say, Margwyth, you look exquisite tonight."

Margwyth blushed.

"Would you care to dance?" she asked the girl.

"Dance? But you're..."

Caryl smiled. "Go on, she won't bite. I'm sure she's a better dancer than Harmon."

Margwyth was directed away from her father, confusion quite apparent on her face.

"Now that is odd," the Baron said, rubbing his beard.

"Not where we come from. You know," Caryl said, "I've actually never been this close to a man with a beard. Trion men don't have facial hair. And Regallan men are all facial hair." She reached up to touch the gray curls. Her touch startled him from his reverie.

"Oh, please," he said, beaming at the beautiful woman before him, "you have my permission."

"I see you decided not to go for the enormous codpiece," Terril said as he reached Turlough, who was sulking in the corner.

"No."

"You look put out. Is everything all right?"

"No."

"Ah. Is there anything I can do for you?"

"No."

Terril sat down next to Turlough.

"It's OK, you can tell me all about it."

Turlough looked at the man as if he were completely daft. "You don't take a hint well, do you?"

"No," said the general, straight faced.

Turlough shook his head and then stared back at Caryl and the Baron. They were sitting beside each other, very close. And he was putting his arm around her shoulder.

"I think I'll retire for the night. Should be a big day ahead of us tomorrow." The general watched as the young man hurried out of the banquet hall.

"Ah, youth. Don't miss a damn bit of it."

Desmoni was watching the events unfold. She had warned Margwyth that the potion didn't always work as it was anticipated. But this was not how things should have worked. The young woman didn't seem to care. She and the tall woman were happily dancing in the middle of the hall. And the Baron had his hands full as well. She frowned.

"'Ere, witch. This bloke wanted to meet you." Beckett was drunk as he came to where she was sitting. He had Harmon with him.

"Ah, my dear lady," he cooed as he took her hand and kissed it. "I hope you do not mind our intrusion."

She blushed despite herself. "No, sir, I do not mind."

"Might I have this chair? I should love nothing more than to sit in it and admire your beauty."

"Oh my. I think I may have made this batch too strong."

"Batch of what?" he inquired, as Beckett took his leave.

"Never mind. So, does that hair cover your body all over?"

Harmon chuckled. "You'd like to know?"

She nodded. And he laughed some more.

Turlough lay on the bed, tossing and turning. But the music below was too loud. He wasn't going to be falling asleep anytime soon. He sighed to himself. Caryl was down there in close quarters with some barbarian. And he was responsible. He let her come on this landing party. What an idiot I've been, he said to himself.

He sat up in bed. No use trying to sleep. So he got up and wandered to the window. The cool breeze felt good. He was very hot. Turned out alcohol and he did not mix well. He listened for night sounds, but could only hear the music below. Only on primitive worlds like this did the air smell so clean. Even on Trion, which prided itself on its low pollution, the air still smelled institutionalized.

He thought he saw a shape detach itself from the wall on the south side of the castle. He rubbed his eyes and looked again. Yes, there definitely was a person out there, watching the castle. He pulled back a bit from the window, but the other person would have a hard time seeing him as his room was dark.

He rubbed his chin, unknowingly imitating the Baron. Something was afoot. And since he couldn't sleep, he was going to find out what it was.

Samuel Garret paced in front of the militia men he had summoned. They were all friends of his father, but moreso, friends of his.

"You all know about the death of my friend Dubois. I still don't know who killed him, but I think I know where the man was from."

"He wasn't a local?" asked one of the men.

"No. Who here would have reason to kill Dubois? He was friends with everyone. No, I strongly suspect it was someone from Anthil."

"You have proof?" another asked.

"Not as such... But someone left a map in my friend's room. Something is going on in the clearing just east of the village. I say we go there and find out what. Maybe we'll find out who killed Dubois in the meantime."

Turlough quietly left the castle, dressed as a native once again. He felt he'd look less conspicuous like that. Of course, the thin breeches were not good protection against the evening chill. He shivered as he looked for the shape he'd seen earlier.

It was around that corner, he though. So if he went this way, instead... He'd barely gotten five meters when something hard hit him over the head. Turlough collapsed, unconscious.

Morning came early to the castle. And most of the inhabitants were not ready for it. Caryl got up from her bed and dressed in her Trion clothes. Enough of those dresses. The only place men looked at her last night was at her cleavage. Well, except for the Baron. And Turlough. She wondered where he'd gotten to last night. She had checked on him before she went to bed and he wasn't in his room yet. She decided to check again.

"Turlough? Can I come in?" she asked as she knocked. "I didn't see you leave last night and I was worried about you."

As the door opened, she saw Turlough sitting on the bed with a medi-compress around his head, and a tall dark-haired stranger standing over him. The stranger motioned for her to shut the door and enter the room. As she did, she started to ask a question. Turlough motioned for her to be quiet. Then he rubbed at his head.

"Things have just gotten complicated," he whispered as she sat down beside him on the bed. "Oh, and please meet Yagher. He's got a very interesting story to tell."

The inhabitants of the castle were slowly filing into the banquet hall. It was, of course, cleaned up from the night before. But no one seemed in high spirits yet. They were still recovering from the previous night's spirits.

"I wonder where Caryl is?" the Baron said, as quietly as anyone had ever heard him speak. Those nearest him still winced from the pain.

"I've not seen her yet this morning, sire," Marko said. She was seated next to his daughter.

Harmon sat down on the other side of the Baron. "Turlough's not down here yet either. I would have thought he'd be the first up since he was the first down." He smiled at his pun, but no one else did.

Desmoni took her seat next to Harmon. They greeted each other as if they hadn't seen the other since the night before.

"It would seem that I was not as fortunate last night as some of my subjects," the Baron mused, nodding at Desmoni. "Ah well. Let us eat and be merry, for today we go to war."

The militia were gathering at the castle. Only the officers had been at the party the night before, so the men were somewhat rested. The Baron finally made his appearance and the men cheered. He smiled and then began to speak. "Today, men, marks a day that will go down in history. Today we shall march on Fiorenza and finally exact our revenge. With our Star Strangers following us in their ship, we shall strike fear into the hearts of deZors and his men."

The men cheered again. Marko and Harmon could hear them even through the woods. They arrived at the ship and went to unlock the door. It wouldn't budge.

"That's odd," Marko said. "This isn't working."

"Isn't working? Maybe you're still drunk. Let me try."

"I wasn't drunk. And I know how to unlock a door."

"If you weren't drunk, why'd you go after curls and tresses then? She's hardly your type."

"And Desmoni is your type? She doesn't have enough hair on her chin to be your type."

Harmon gave up on the key and started banging on the door. It didn't open.

"This is bad. This is very bad," he said, simply.

"Did you believe Yagher?" Caryl asked.

"I suppose so. He at least admits to the possibility of there being a transmitter. Even if he didn't know what I was talking about."

"Few people do." She looked at the image of Marko and Harmon. "Aren't you going to let them in?"

"Hmm?" Turlough was busy playing with the scanner controls. "It doesn't look like the Baron's the only army out there. Have a look at that."

"What does it mean?"

Turlough shrugged. "Ambush?"

The Baron led his men to the clearing where the ship was resting. He was surprised to see Marko and Harmon banging on the door. He quickly rushed to their side.

"What is wrong?" he hissed.

"It won't open," Marko replied.

"Won't open?"

Harmon shook his head. "We can't explain it. They keys don't work. The only way they shouldn't work is if someone is inside there. And the only people who could be inside there are Turlough or Caryl. And I can't see either of them locking us out."

Marko sneered. "I can. I'll bet Turlough's in there sulking because you were hitting on Caryl last night."

"Well, there's nothing for him to sulk about. Not a damn thing happened between us. How was I to know they were a couple? They never acted like one."

Harmon laughed. "Love is rather funny, don't you think? Desmoni and I were..."

"Harmon! Not now! Don't you see we have a crisis here?" Marko was exasperated. Men could never get the job done right. She reached for her pistol. She'd get this door open.

"Damn! Where's my pistol?"

Harmon felt for his. "Mine's gone too. Guess I didn't check to see if it was still in the holster this morning. Wasn't thinking clearly."

The Baron's face fell. "You mean we have no ship? We have no weapons? How will we take Fiorenza without them?"

There was a rumbling from the woods around them. Soldiers suddenly appeared around the clearing.

"Baron Giovan deGiovan. Surrender your men. You are completely surrounded."

The Baron turned to see who was speaking. "Who the hell are you?"

"I am Samuel Garret, son of General Jansen Garret of the Bryerly Militia. I have come to find the man who killed my friend. And I brought some of my father's men with me."

"Get back to Bryerly where you belong, boy. This is no place for playing soldiers."

"Your men may outnumber mine, but we have you surrounded. And you may notice my crossbow is pointing directly at your heart."

The Baron watched as his militia slowly lowered their weapons. Without the help from the Trions, they were no match for the men from Bryerly. Damnit! Why did things never work out as they were supposed to?

"Are you sure you can pull this off, Turlough?" Caryl asked.

"Of course! I once held off an angry mob using only a coat rack."

"Really? Do you have another coat rack?"

Turlough sighed. "Can you help me with this hat?"

"It looks ridiculous."

"I know it does. But it's all the rage in wizardry."

"And the misos triangle motif is also the rage?"

He grinned. "Just adding my own unique touch to an otherwise staid fashion. Is the staff ready?"

"Loaded with every power supply I could find. Are you sure the discharge won't hurt you?"

"I'm sure. It'll sting a bit if it hits bare skin, but it won't kill." He attached a microphone to his throat. It looked like some macabre necklace.

"How do I look?" he asked her as he adjusted his fake beard.

"As I said before, ridiculous."

"Good. Be ready with the holo-emitter. I want this to look impressive."

The Baron's men were all forced into a small circle. Marko and Harmon were standing beside the Baron looking as defiant as he was.

"What does Brenmore think of you borrowing his militia?" he cried.

"Brenmore is a figurehead. The military has always ruled Bryerly. But you are lucky today, Baron. I want only the man who murdered my teacher."

At this, a huge blast of light appeared behind Samuel. His soldiers shielded their eyes from the glare that was even bright in the morning sun.

"What the hell?" he said as he turned around.

Before him, shimmering in the sunlight, was a tall man in silver robes. His pointed cap was half again his size and covered in gold triangles. He had a long white beard and long wavy hair. He was every bit a sorcerer. Which, as Samuel knew, did not actually exist.

The men from Bryerly were starting to move away from the wizard. "Hold your ground!" shouted the apprentice Custodian. "This is nothing but a trick!"

"A trick?" boomed the voice of the wizard. It seemed to come from all around the men. His bright blue eyes stared at Samuel. "I do not perform 'tricks'!" Blue light crackled all over the sorcerer and several of the soldiers bolted from the clearing.

Samuel moved closer to the sorcerer. "I doubt you are even here with us. I have heard of technology that projects an image to another place." He reached out to touch the wizard and was surprised to see he was solid. Then he felt a prickling sensation wash over his body.

The rest of the men from Bryerly ran off. Seeing the young man consumed by blue flames was horrifying. The Baron raised his hand to prevent his militia from doing the same.

"Our wizard looks a bit familiar, wouldn't you say?" he asked Marko.

"It doesn't help that his beard is slipping, does it?"

Samuel was finally overcome by the stun blast and collapsed on the ground.

"So, how was that for an entrance?" the wizard's voice boomed once again. "Caryl, can you turn that damn thing off?" His voice returned to its regular volume.

He took off his hat and wig, and the militia finally breathed easily. It was that other Star Stranger. The door to the ship opened and Caryl came out.

"Pretty impressive, don't you think?" she asked as she joined Turlough and the others.

"I don't know. Seems a bit of a nonevent now. I was hoping to show off more of my powers."

"Like what?"

"Well, you've got me there. I guess we should be glad those men ran when they did."

The Baron moved closer to Caryl. "Would somebody please explain to me what just happened?"

Before anyone could, they heard a shout coming from the woods to the west. "I found it! You'll never believe where."

A tall dark-haired stranger entered the clearing, holding a large box.

Beckett, who, like all the men from the village, was part of the militia, tried to edge his way out of the knot of men.

"Baron deGiovan, may I introduce you to someone who's been helping us with a mystery?" Turlough said as the man approached. "This is Yagher."

The Baron nodded to the stranger. "Mystery you say?"

"Our arrival here was no coincidence, Baron. Someone asked us to come."

"Asked? How?"

Turlough pointed at the box. "With that."

Harmon sniffed. "Pretty sophisticated for a planet like this."

"A box of tricks? I don't understand," the Baron said. He noticed his men were getting restless. Beckett seemed the most restless.

"Perhaps if we continued the discussion back at the castle?" Turlough suggested.

The Baron nodded.

"So, who lives in the room at the top of the castle? The tower?" Yagher asked, once they were back in the Baron's meeting room.

"That's my astronomer, Beckett."

"I believe he's the one that Samuel Garret was after."

The Baron looked incredulous. "Beckett? Kill someone?"

Yagher nodded. "He wouldn't have gotten his hands on that box except by killing Dubois."

"He killed a man for a box? I do not believe that. He was one of my most devoted subjects. He was always doing what he could for Anthil."

"It would seem," Turlough said, "that he did just that. By luring us here, he was helping out your village."

"Baron, I need to talk with Beckett. Could you send someone to fetch him?" Yagher asked.

He nodded and waved for one of his aides to get the man.

"I still cannot see him a murderer."

Turlough frowned and tapped anxiously at the table. "Baron, I think you should come clean with us."

"What do you mean?" Marko asked him.

Turlough shook his head. "You were right all along. Anthil hasn't been oppressed by anyone. In fact, none of the other villages considers them a threat. Fiorenza barely acknowledges its existence."

Harmon looked confused. "When did you find all this out?"

"This morning, after I recovered from the blow to the head that Yagher gave me."

The man looked at his boots. "Sorry about that. I thought you were going to give me away. Didn't know my own strength."

Turlough shrugged. "At least I got some sleep. But the fact is, the Baron's been pulling the wool over our eyes." The others looked blank. "He lied to us. If we had helped him, he could have taken over Fiorenza and had what he desired most - land. And power."

The Baron looked deflated. "I... I'm sorry. This was going to be a glorious plan. We were no longer going to be the butt of every joke. Anthil would have been famous."

Harmon shook his head. "People would have died. We would have been responsible. And all because you wanted more land to rule over."

Caryl sat down beside the Baron. "Why would you want to? You've got a lovely village. Your people admire you. Your daughter adores you. Does she know what you intended to do?"

He shook his head. "She knows only that we were to go and free ourselves from the oppression of our neighbors. Of course, she wasn't entirely sure what that entailed."

Marko corrected him. "Are you sure? She seemed pretty astute to me when we were talking. I don't think you give her enough credit."

"Well," said Yagher, "the real villain in this case was Beckett. He was preying on the Baron's own greed. And I'm very sorry you people got mixed up in this."

There was a knock on the door, and the aide entered.

"Excuse me, sire? We cannot find Beckett. No one has seen him since we returned to the castle."

Yagher sighed. "That means my work isn't done yet. Damn." He stood up. "I think I'd better get started looking for him. If you'll forgive me, Baron?"

The Baron nodded.

"I suppose you'll be going, now that you know the truth."

Turlough replied, "Yes. You are in no need of our assistance, and I now understand how we were called here. The mystery, as they say, has reached a satisfactory conclusion."

The next morning, Anthil was in another celebratory mood. The Star Strangers were heading back home. Once again the village turned out for the grand event.

Margwyth was in her room crying on Marko's shoulder. "No, you can't leave me here!"

"I'm sorry, my dear. But I have to go back. And your duty lies here with your father. Someday, you'll be the Baron or whatever of this village. And you'll be a fine leader. I can tell."

"No I won't. I'll be the wife of someone 6 years my junior, living in a village that's no better than this one." She sniffed. "Will you ever return?"

Marko shrugged. "I'm not sure. This planet is a bit far from our usual routes. And Turlough's very insistent that we avoid sharing any technology with this planet. So if I do return, I'll have to be very discreet."

"Please come back. I just want to see you again sometime."

Marko hugged her tight. "I'll see what I can do. I promise."

The Baron was looking sadly at the festivities in the banquet hall. He felt a hand on his shoulder. He looked up and smiled at Caryl.

"So I guess it's time for goodbyes."

She nodded.

"You may not believe this, but I was having second thoughts before we went off to battle."

"If you say you were, I'll believe you."

"You don't have to return with him, you know. I could make you very happy here. We don't have the technology that you are accustomed to, but..."

"Thanks for the offer. It's very sweet. But we've been talking a bit. Nothing may come of it, mind. But it's a start."

The Baron turned and gave her a big bear hug. "Thank you for everything."

"Thank you, too."

* * *

Turlough was waiting at the ship. He'd sneaked out while everyone was saying good bye. That wasn't something he was fond of doing. After a while, he heard his friends' voices.

"So where were you?" he heard Marko ask Harmon.

"Just saying farewell to a beautiful woman."

Caryl cut in. "That wouldn't be the same beautiful woman who put love potion in all of our wine, would it?"

"Could be."

Caryl shrieked as she saw Turlough in the doorway of the ship. "Oh god no. You're not seriously wearing that!"

Marko laughed out loud. "What the hell is that?"

Turlough smiled. "Terril said I could have it. He had no need of it, and I recall Caryl showing an expressed interest in it."

Harmon and Marko just stared at the enormous codpiece that Turlough was wearing.

"Well come on. Shellon says that Magna 745 is just itching to collapse. It's now or never."

The crew entered the shuttle, and the Trions left the planet Arganfi to itself.