5.0

As the sun began to fall over the horizon, Geoffrey set about Castle Blackpool looking for his blue silk scarf. He absolutely had to have it with him on the battlefield in Donner Pass. It was his lucky scarf. For the life of him, he could not remember where he had last seen it. Maybe Dirk would know. His brother always seemed to know everything.

Geoffrey opened every door in a long hallway, rummaging through each room as he went. He figured he would run into Dirk or Vector eventually, and if he had not found the scarf by then, one of those two would help. Finding the scarf was Very Important.

He heard voices coming from a salon down the hall. He opened the door and stopped dead in his tracks.

The room was in a state of total disarray. Disorder was never tolerated in Castle Blackpool. It upset the lord of the house, and Dirk usually killed servants who did not live up to his strict expectations. Geoffrey shuddered at the thought of his brother's reaction to the mess. The long couch that normally occupied the room's center had been shoved to the side and nearly blocked the door. The carpet had been folded and dumped in a heap in a corner. Piles of fabric, patterns and sewing notions littered the floor.

Anthony stood where the couch should have been, his back to the door. He draped black velvet over a tall mannequin, glancing from time to time at an open sketchbook at his feet. He sang softly to himself, "Oh l'amour! Broke my heart, now I'm aching for you...What's a boy in love supposed to do?"

Portia and Charles sat opposite one another at a small table with a deck of cards spread out between them.

Anthony stopped singing and turned toward the door. He brightened. "Hi, princey! Come on in."

Geoff looked uncomfortable. It was his castle, sort of, so he did not really need their invitation to enter the room, but he was not at all sure he really wanted to join them. "Um...Hi. Have you seen my brother or Vector?"

"Yep! Superman, Batman and Wonder Woman flew off in the invisible jet." Anthony punctuated the pronouncement with a swishing motion of the arm which was not holding fabric.

Geoffrey blinked, trying to decipher meaning.

Charles turned around, glaring at Anthony. "Listen, Andy Bell, does this look like the damned Hall of Justice to you? HELLO?! We work for the Legion of Doom. Obviously. And Miss Thang could kick Linda Carter's ass any day."

"Legion of Doom?" the confused prince repeated. He wondered if it had something to do with a new order of torture troopers. He hated riddles.

Portia saw Geoffrey's expression and took pity on him. "That translates to your brother, Vector and Zyrdicia left awhile ago. Don't try to figure these two out, dear. Ninety-five percent of what spews out of their mouths is bullshit."

"Oh. Well, did they say when they'd be back? I need Dirk and Vector to help me find my scarf."

"Scarf?" Anthony wondered. "Is it blue?"

Geoffrey's eyes widened. "That's it! You've seen it! Do you remember where?"

Anthony grinned. He set the velvet down and walked over to a sewing basket. He pulled the prince's scarf out of the basket. "I found it in the hallway on the floor. I love the fabric. I saved it to ask someone where to get the material."

Geoffrey sighed in relief. "It's from Baaldorf, Princess Ariel's kingdom. There are really good weavers there. They make the most amazing colors, too. Like this shirt." He pointed proudly to the rich, hunter green satin shirt he was wearing.

Anthony shook his head. "I just work in black. We do violet only if the color EXACTLY matches girlfriend's eyes. That's the whole palette. I'm a shape and texture artists, anyway, so it doesn't really matter."

Geoffrey walked in the room finally. He glanced at the mannequin. "So she never wears any other color? Sounds like Dirk. Pretty dull, huh?"

"No, honey, it's all about attitude. Black is an elegant fashion statement. She has to look beautiful for Armageddon. It wouldn't be very persuasive for her to go around killing people while dressed in pink taffeta, would it?"

"I guess not. But it would be kind of cool." Geoffrey eyed the card game. "Whacha playin'?" he asked hopefully.

"Go Fish!" Charles answered. "Come join us, honey! We'll show you how to play." He glared at the woman across from him, "And the answer to your question was, "Go fish, fish!" He stuck out his tongue at her. Geoffrey was surprised to see a small piece of metal sticking through Charles' tongue. Portia responded to the sight of the tongue by kicking its owner swiftly under the table.

Although he usually was not very talented at card games, Geoffrey caught onto this one immediately. He was even good at it. They taught him another one he liked called Crazy Eights. He was thoroughly enjoying himself. These people laughed a lot. No one in Castle Blackpool ever laughed, unless it was Dirk when he was hurting someone. He started to hope that Dirk and Vector stayed away awhile.

Anthony finally took the fourth chair at the small, square table, a bottle in hand. "To hell with cards, kids, let's play Truth-or-Dare Quarters. I brought absinthe."

Geoff thought a minute. "Does that have to do with drawing and quartering someone? I think Dirk likes that game."

Everyone laughed as though he had made a great joke. Anthony pulled a pile of foreign silver coins out of his pocket. As the prince watched Anthony bounce the coin on the table into the cup, Geoffrey wondered whether they were really playing Kolnas, only without the kolnas.

Anthony explained, "That was just a test of the table. We'll let princey go first. Geoff, if you bounce it in, you get to ask anyone in the room any question you want. It has to be really personal. Sexually explicit is good too. They either have to answer totally honestly, or you get to think up something obnoxious for them to do—like run across the courtyard naked. They aren't allowed to refuse. If you miss with the coin, you drink the whole cup. Then we fill it and you try again. If you miss three times, it's the person on your right's turn. If you hit and ask a question, it becomes the turn of the person you asked. Get it?"

"Uh, I think so. Do I take a drink now?"

Everyone laughed. Charles handed him a coin. "You go, girl!" he prodded.

Geoff remembered how to bounce coins. It was kind of like playing Kolnas, but weirder. The first one missed. The second one missed. OK, it had been awhile since he played Kolnas. The green liquor was fiery and potent. His head immediately started to buzz. The third coin entered the cup with a splash.

"So, who are you asking?" Charles prodded.

Geoffrey thought. He was perplexed. It was supposed to be personal. This made him nervous. He felt as though he were on the spot. Nobody ever talked about personal issues in Castle Blackpool. It just was not done. Through the haze, he remembered what Bethel had been babbling about in Dirk's study. Now he could find out what was up with that.

"Um, Portia, are you and Zyrdicia like, um, really, you know...err...involved?"

Geoff's three companions immediately burst out laughing again. He laughed with them, though he certainly did not get the joke.

Anthony put a hand on his arm, "Somebody's been sniffing the kitty litter. Have you been talking to Meow Mix, Geoffrey?"

"Huh? I hate cats. They always scratch me. I'm not sure what you mean."

Anthony shook his head. "Yes, you do. The catty witch-y thing. What's her name again? Beezel. We call her Meow Mix."

The light bulb behind the prince's eyes went on. "Oh! Bethel. Don't let her hear you call her that. She can be a real bitch. Anyway, yeah, she mentioned seeing something, but no one can figure out whether to believe her. She lies a lot."

Portia straightened in her chair and looked smug. "Then I guess we'll just have to do it again, in a more public place."

Geoff's mouth hung open for a second. Without thinking, he drained another cup of the numbing green beverage. "Are you serious?" he asked, incredulous.

The attractive, red-haired woman grinned and nodded.

The alcohol gave the young prince courage. "So, like, how long have you guys been together?"

"I've been with her almost ten years. She keeps me young."

Geoff eyes were wide as saucers. He had heard about women like this, but he had certainly never met any. And no one told him that pretty women could be like this.

"No way! You guys really..."

"I sleep with her almost every night." Portia's green eyes danced mischievously.

"So you guys never want to be with men instead?" the prince asked curiously. His mind was working very hard to understand.

"I fuck men all the time. I hope to do just that later tonight, in fact."

Geoff's started to speak and lost his train of thought. "Whoa. She doesn't mind?"

"Why would she? It's not like we are lovers." Portia laughed.

"But, I thought...you just said...OK, I'm really confused. If you aren't lovers, I don't get why you sleep with her. And why do you guys like to kiss?"

Portia lost her composure finally and burst out laughing. "Fuck. I hate it that I have to be honest. I could string you along all night. OK, here's the deal. A couple of years ago at a tavern in the world Charles and Anthony come from, we were all playing this very same game. Anthony asked her something she didn't want to answer. Something about sex with her ex, I think. The dare was that she had to kiss me-- with tongue, right there in public and it had to last at least three minutes. So she did."

Geoffrey looked positively fascinated. "You mean she didn't get up and refuse to play anymore in an angry huff? You guys sure don't come from here..."

Portia squinted. "Of course she didn't do that. She loves games. And she thought it was funny. Anyway, it had the amazing side effect of warding off a gaggle of obnoxious men that had been leering at her all evening. So we remembered the trick. Anytime we go out bar hopping in the Red Zone in Lyr now, when the inevitable drunken sots start fantasizing about her, we put on a show. They're usually totally repulsed. Every now and then some freak gets turned on by it and wants to join, but those perverts never live long. We aren't lovers. We are very close friends. She tends to be very physically affectionate with her friends. You can figure out for yourself where the boundary is."

Charles cut in, "And that's how the rumors that she's a lesbian vampire got started. Who'd have guessed that a drinking game would start a comic book series?" He got up and walked to Anthony's sewing basket. He dug through it for a minute until he found a slim, colorful booklet. He handed it to the prince. "See?"

Geoffrey's eyes revealed his excitement as he flipped through the raunchy picture book. "I've never seen anything like this. Did she really do this stuff?"

"Hell, no! She roasted the people who made the first one that came out. Ten more followed. They multiply like cockroaches. She loves to be the center of attention, though, even weird attention. Nothing upsets her as much as being ignored. She knows it's better to be talked about than not talked about, so she bought the publisher. Now she makes money off of the lies people spread about her. Don't you guys get the books about her out here? She's more famous than Madonna. Better hair and clothes too, thanks to us."

The prince, still engrossed in the comic book, shook his head. "I wish we did get books like this. The books we get are so boring."

Charles stood up, winking at Anthony. "I got a whole bag full of that crap in our room. I'm going to go have it sent to his chambers."

Portia cleared her throat. "My turn." She bounced the coins, deliberately missing the first two so that she could drink. Nailing the third one expertly, she announced, "Geoffrey. Listen up."

The prince looked up from his reading material, suddenly terrified.

"I want to know if you've ever fantasized about a boy's body. Now keep in mind the question is EVER. That includes childhood. It includes gym class or training exercises or whatever sport young men here do. Fess up."

She passed the absinthe bottle to him, adding, "It's not your turn, but have another drink. You look like you need one." The prince took a long draught. The colors in the room looked as though they were moving. He felt very strange.

Through the spacey fog in his brain, he managed to say, "I'm not answering that."

"YES!" Portia raised a fist triumphantly. "OK, then given our previous discussion, I want you to kiss Anthony. Same rules I described. You have to do it."

"No way. Make me do something else. I can't do that."

"You don't get to argue about it, princey. If you want to play with us, you have to be a man and do it. If you go through with it, you'll prove that you have the balls to hang out with us."

Geoff stood up, unsteady on his feet. The room swirled around him. He didn't want them to think he was a jerk. They were fun to party with. He knew he had to go through with it.

He saw Anthony's face come toward him. It seemed to dissolve into a million fragments then reform a second later.

The next thing the prince knew, his lips were pressing up against the other man's. Their tongues pressed together clumsily. Other than his innocent courting of the Princess Ariel, Geoffrey had never really had a girlfriend. He was totally inexperienced in this area. He tried to imagine he was kissing Ariel. He opened his eyes and through the hallucinogenic alchemy of wormwood in the liquor, he was kissing Ariel.

5.1

Dirk Blackpool, Vector and Zyrdicia materialized at the edge of Mora Valley in the foothills. The area was lightly forested. Through a break in the trees they had a perfect view of the flurry of activity in the valley below in the vanishing twilight.

When Dirk had informed the Wizard of the invasion plan moments ago, the Wizard pretended to scarcely contain his outrage. The fact of the matter was, however, that Vector had watched the entire planning session unfold on his viewscope. Had the prince not chosen to bring him into the fold of the conspiracy, he would have been obliged to thwart the program in any way he could. He simply could not imagine why the prince would dare to plan any magical attack without consulting him. Given Dirk's recent criticism of his abilities, Vector started to worry that his hold on the monocle's possessor might be slipping.

The attractive visitor perplexed the Wizard. Her magical aura was palpable and unnerving. Although she had deeply offended him with her "message" from the outer planes, he felt a grudging admiration for her abilities. He found her talent for shredding his master's nerves delightful. Few people could get under the prince's skin to such a degree. Even fewer could gleefully insult the haughty young ruler to his face and live to tell the tale. Vector chuckled inwardly-- pompous ass, indeed! Surely when the business in Tronin was resolved, he could strike some sort of bargain ensuring the prince's demise.

The trio moved from site to site silently. She needed only a few moments at each to memorize its details and location. The task was simple, and required little effort on anyone's part but Vector's. He moved them to the final site and realized his error too late to reverse the magic's forward momentum. They materialized directly in the path of a group of mounted southern patrolmen.

"Oops. Well, we can get rid of them quickly enough. Use the monocle!" the Wizard advised.

Dirk responded by aiming the lens of the device at the first horseman. A beam of blue light shot out and froze the man in place.

The horsemen recognized their enemies immediately. One turned his horse to double back for help. The remaining six charged, swords drawn.

A massive unseen force pulled the Wizard and prince into the air and flung them backwards. Before either man could react, a blinding burst of violet light exploded near where they had stood previously. Overwhelming heat forced the pair to look away as a tremendous ball of fire swept forward to envelop the charging horsemen and the retreating messenger. Crackling flames engulfed surrounding trees, igniting everything they touched. A moment later, all that remained of the patrol was a powdery pile of ash. The fireball dissipated, but the surrounding forest was ablaze. Zyrdicia looked pleased.

Vector glared at her enviously. "Well, that was certainly gratuitous!"

She laughed. In the hell-tongue she had spoken to the Wizard on a previous occasion, she remarked, "Power is never gratuitous."

Vector's eye's narrowed. He had to think a moment to translate the words in his head. He had never heard the language spoken conversationally by a human tongue. With extraordinary difficulty Wizards might recite ancient spells in the tongue, but formulating sentences in it was inconceivable. "Amazing," he whispered to himself.

She heard. Switching back to the human dialect with which the Wizard was more familiar, she explained, "Not really. Tenaebran was the only language I spoke during most of my childhood. It still comes more naturally to me than human speech."

The Wizard's face showed his fascination. In his mind, that language was the key to boundless power. "What child could learn to speak a magical language that torments the minds of the greatest Wizards?" he inquired evenly.

"One raised by a Sephiroth guardian," she laughed.

Dirk, who had been quietly observing the conversation, cut in, "Given your social graces, I had surmised that you were merely raised by wolves. That you were raised by demons is far more telling." He smiled coldly and winked.

She looked confused. "What social graces?"

"Precisely." He turned to the Wizard, "Return us home before the idiots come to investigate the cause of the fire."