Lets stir this cauldron!

— Barnibus’s Hat…And other malcontent wizards

* * *

“… Entertainment!”

There was a pregnant pause where even the breeze stilled and Barnibus watched with frozen breath as the lips of reddest red blood worked.

“I beg thy pardon?”

“Promised thee my services three! One, to dine. Two to warm…” And because Barnibus could not think of any phrase with entertainment that rhymed with three that would make sense in this context, he stopped it right there and just said, “and - and to provide entertainment!” He ended lamely.

“Entertain — ment?”. The Forerunner repeated as if she did not understand the concept.

Barnibus nodded, doubling down. “Quite right. If you leave now, Forerunner, you will be causing me to default upon that which I promised. And that would be most unsporting.”

“Accuseth me of rudeness now, mortal?” She chuckled merrily. “By mine own estimation, a fine guest I hath played.”

“Careful, Barnibus.” His hat breathed in his ear. “She’s been rather pol —”

“But if you leave now, I shall not have the opportunity to deliver what I promised.” Barnibus pointed out quickly.

“This concern seemeth to me to be of a personal nature,” The Forerunner replied. Her eyes danced with mirth.

“But you promised me your good grace!” Barnibus yelped in desperation. He was committed now. He was —

The Forerunner’s eyes flickered fractionally and she was standing over him suddenly and for the life of him — which suddenly seemed was going to be uncharacteristically short — It looked to Barnibus that she had forgotten to cross the distance from where she had stood.

The icy wind returned, harder than ever. A gale, and it howled through the trees, banking the fire low again, and throwing tendrils of frost back over tree bark and the soil where it had begun to thaw.

“Seekith thee to bind through trickery of words, mortal kine?” She hissed an inch from his face.

“N-n-no! No-not at all!” Barnibus gabbled as his hat wailed in his ears. “I-I-I just —”

“Well met, I spake. Well met an’ well left. Thy mean to hold me a against mine own desire? Speak quickly Wizard of mine ire. Thy make an’ meddle. An’ thee knowest not what fate thy peddle. Speak once and done. But speak truly, Wizard One. Knowest mine humor. Knowest mine good grace an’ mine laughter. But thou knowest not what cometh after.”

Barnibus had no idea what he was about to say when he opened his mouth, only that he had to say something and split-beard-ends was it difficult think of anything with The Forerunner’s glacial eyes so close to his own, but Hat said suddenly — “Say this” and out of his mouth came

“I seek not to burden I seek not to bind!

Only a compromise do I seek now to find.

Thy promised me grace, the goodness of thine will,

and tradith I thee entertainment to fulfill.

If leavith thou now, I default unto yee,

or, heavens forbid, the fault is with thee.

I seek but accord twixt mine self and thine,

grantith me but the opportune time,

to deliver unto thee enjoyment and glee,

and thus fulfilleth our duties both thineself and me.”

And Barnibus was left chest heaving, and wondering how in the world he had that in him as The Forerunner spun away from him angrily, spluttering and hissing and making sounds like a doused house cat.

“This will not do Wizard Barnibus!”

The Forerunner stamped her foot, and balled her fists, looking for all the world like she was pouting — though Barnibus, and his hat made certain to pitch that thought down the Pit of Forgotten Nonsense where it belonged.

She jabbed a rigid finger at the Leinan, standing rigidly herself where she had frozen in front of the softly sobbing children behind her.

One of the children, Keimen, was tugging on her sleeve and Leinan’s eyes were wide, flickering back and forth between The Forerunner and Barnibus, obviously trying to decipher what was going on from just a single side of the conversation.

Slowly, Leinan very carefully returned the knife to her belt.

“By the goodness of mine grace thy’ve bid me stay, but grave insult was leveled ‘pon me this day! How canst thee right this insult? Thine mortal guest sought to take my life this night, and ‘neath thine aegis did she seek this fight.”

“No blood was spilt.”

“By mine hand not thine.”

“A-and wh-what about you? Did seeketh thee not — You were going to eat them when they came!” The wizard stuttered, blanching.

The Forerunner’s eye’s flashed white. “Thine words knoweth not from whence they come,” She hissed. "Mine deeds art mine this night mortal man. An’ thine peace I held true. Not word nor deed of falsehood. No fell deed. No Hand lifted but in amity. Speaketh not what thee doth not know!”

“We are going to have to give her something, Barnibus.” Hat whispered in his ear. “The Fae are all about that tit for tat. I wonder if they can help it? She almost looks… frustrated.”

Leinan spoke up suddenly, in the harsh guttural tones of her language, and, though she looked positively murderous, Leinan sketched a short, respectful bow to the Forerunner.

The Forerunner narrowed her eyes but then looked…. Intrigued.

“Forsooth. This is all? Speak thee truth?” She answered Leinan wonderingly.

Leinan answered her slowly, and carefully. Her eyes were not on The Forerunner’s. They hovered somewhere at chest level and to the right, but they bled Blackest Hatred from their corners and more of the same was dribbling from her mouth as she spoke.

Blackest Hatred was actually not that simple to produce… Barnibus thought dimly as he struggled to think.

Give her something? What? Giving up Leinan and the children was frankly not in the hat.

But, at the same time… Barnibus’ heart was generating increasing amounts of Creeping Dread that even if he parsed with the finest tooth comb, The Forerunner was right. By any definition of hospitality among magical society — of course, discounting anything from the Abyssal Planes… they didn’t really have society there — The Forerunner had been remarkably polite.

‘No word nor deed of falsehood. No fell deed done. No hand lifted but in amity….’ Fishfingers and mammoth antlers and bubbling potion puddles!

A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

The Forerunner was listening to Leinan and she touched one pale finger to her lips in thought. “Wizzzaaaaarrrrrrrdddddddd” she asked elongating the word extravagantly as she spoke.… might thee consider this pleasantness to be of a… childish nature?”

Childish?

“I… might.” Barnibus responded after a long pause because he didn’t know how else to respond.

He eyeing The Forerunner dubiously. He was on the same side as his Hat on this one — “The Fae have always had a strange fascination with children, Barnibus, I don’t know…”.

“Very well. Tis is settled then. We shalt mend this in the fashion of Men.”

Huh? “Huh?”

“The foolish mortal girl accosted a guest, and in the fashion of thine kind, this girl vouchsafed unto me that if she had done something so ill content an’ childish in her demesne, her father would have delivered unto she a ‘sound hiding’, but not more.”

Huh? “Huh?” The Wizard — and his Hat — looked at Leinan still standing protectively in front of the two twins, not looking in anyway childish, and the murder in her eyes… Leinan nodded jerkily and stiffly to him.

“I don’t think” — Barnibus started, but Hat hit him so hard on the head with that book that Barnibus saw stars and swayed where he stood. ‘Don’t you dare say no to this, Barnibus…. Just. Watch the wording.’

“H-Hold on.” Barnibus blustered, his beard wagging furiously. “By ‘Hiding’ you mean…”

The Forerunner rolled her eyes. “Lashes, wizard, breaking not the skin an’ damage to no bone.” The Forerunner giggled that tinkling laugh again. “Tee Hee! How very quaint! How soft thine world? I shall deliver them!”

The Forerunner flourished her hand and a switch from a pale wood, that Barnibus did not at all recognize — not that he knew all that many wood types — fell into it.

“I believe seven shall suffice.”

“Seven?”

“Seven.” The Forerunner rejoined with a dazzlingly sharp grin.

The Wizards mouth worked and he squinted and blinked and.…

“Thee looketh dearly put upon, Wizard Barnibus. Hath I erred? Is tis not the way of Man?” The Forerunner looked disappointed and the overly pale stick of wood flickered in her hand.

‘Say. The words. Barney. This. Is. Fair. Say it!’ Hat hissed. ‘We will not get a better deal.’

Barnibus… his mouth working silently, tugged hard and fretted at his beard and shuffled his feet.

“N-not six?” He finally asked. Hat groaned.

“Nay, Wizard One.” The Forerunner chided. “Seven I proclaim as meet, an’ just, an done. Seven, not six, an, delivereth so the accord betwixt thineself an’ me.” She grinned a grin so sharp it would have raised the hackles on a Cheshire cat, as it certainly did to Barnibus. “To grantith thee the opportune time, to deliver unto me enjoyment an’ glee, an’ thus fulfilleth our duties both mineself an’ thee.”

Barnibus closed his eyes tightly and thought, really thought, trying to pull in all of his wizardly wisdom. Even Hat was silent.

Seven lashes. Delivered by an immortal Fae with a grin to freeze blood in a stone. Seven. WHY?

Not the third prime number, which would have had special significance all on its own, but the fourth. Better than Five? Maybe, but who was counting, and five was actually ascribed a certain prominence beyond just being a prime, and odd. It was the greatest, none ten, factor of ten in the base ten system. Not insignificant. Key, actually. And The Forerunner had skipped it. Purposefully? Or was seven actually — literally — meet and just and done in her eyes?

How good was The Forerunner at existential math? Barnibus thought worriedly. Could she do it in her head? Barnibus certainly couldn’t. If she could, he was doomed, Barnibus thought. But also… what in Bottled Starlight could seven lashes even mean on a cosmic scale?

Barnibus sighed and went with his gut. “Eight,” He finally said.

“Seven I spake as just, an I shan’t gainsay mineself on thine account Wizard.”

“Pretty sure this is a test Barnibus.”

“Nor shall you,” Barnibus countered quickly, with a shake of his head. “The extra is on my account. Leinan, broke the peace as a guest beneath my aegis, and as spake thee too, Forerunner, Leinan ‘befouled my goodly name’. Therefore eight is meet an’ just an —”

“Tis not.”

— Fish testicles!

“Dost thee play with me, Wizard? That thee hold thine shame so low?”

“DON’T say nine.” Hat broke in as Barnibus’s mouth opened again. “You’re not bunny hopping up the number line until The Forerunner freezes your eyeballs in your skull”

Of course, he wasn’t going to say nine! That would have been odd! Ten though…. His hat scoffed. “Oh yes. But aren’t you adding now an odd, prime?”

Barnibus opened his mouth to say ‘well no of course he would never make that mistake’ and instead… blinked.

He didn’t know that Hat fell on that side of the Agrissa - Morten Paradox. If there was one way to bristle beards right down the center of a Library, this was it. How very… awkward.

Barnibus approached it the same way he would a skittish alley cat. Cautiously, and softly and — ‘But you understand how ridiculous that is, right Hat? Any number can be deconstructed into at minimum a duality of additors and indubitably several options will be odd. In fact,’ Barnibus continued helpfully. ‘The only way to add-out an oddity is with an odd number evenly. You know that, right Hat?’

To his Hat’s credit, it merely sighed with a breath it didn’t have and did not rise to the bait. ‘Can we stay on topic?’ Hat hissed acerbically. ‘Easiest answer is to match. Double the number to fourteen, and you fit your foolish notion’s satisfactorily, and The Forerunner can’t claim your not contrite enough.’

‘We are playing with a rather innocent young lady’s pain threshold here.’ Barnibus muttered into his beard as he stroked it thoughtfully.

‘She attacked the immortal fairy.’

But I am certain…

‘Yes! Under duress, I know.’ Hat continued irritably. ‘Look at the state of their clothes. How scared they were. The backstory must be chilling.’

So….

‘And a spanking is literally the kindest option I can think of. Practically a steal. AND she suggested it so I doubt this is her first. Moldy Stitching, Boy! The Fae. Have laid fallow. NATIONS for less than what she did.’

B—

‘We need to cut this pondering short. Any moment now The Forerunner is going to decide you’re thinking too much about something that probably seems like a simple concept to her.’ Hat paused for several heartbeats, and then took a breath… somehow. ‘Barnibus,’ Hat said slowly. ‘Going on a limb here, I assume you did not run the existential numbers when I wasn’t looking?’ — Barnibus shook his head fractionally. ‘Then we are running blind here anyway. We’ve been doing a lot of reacting… maybe its time we stir this cauldron a bit and do something’ —

* * *

— “Right you are Forerunner”, Barnibus responded, tugging his beard with emphasis — beards were versatile in that way. “Leinan, wrought a fell deed beneath my mine aegis, and a single extra does not suffice. Four more I decree on my account, an not a single more, nor less.”

The Forerunner narrowed her eyes at him and twitched. “I hardly think four” —

Barnibus barreled on. “Eleven, I say, is meet and just and — ” He didn’t have a staff to strike the earth with — and he felt for some reason that this occasion called for it — so instead he stamped his foot against the cold ground. “ — Done”

‘— Primary.’ Hat finished quietly.

The Forerunner scowled at him, but then nodded grudgingly, swishing the switch menacingly. “Four on thine account then, Wizard, is meet an just and done.”

And Leinan blinked in sudden surprised betrayal and shared some of that murder in her eyes with Barnibus too.

And then all there was left was to execute.

Barnibus turned away as Leinan made ready behind him and then —

Thwip

Thwip

Thwip

Barnibus shut his eyes and closed his ears as Leinan yowled high and loud behind him. This was far far preferable, Barnibus told himself.

Thwip

Thwip

Thwip

Thwip

Then came an uncomfortable moment when Forerunner approached him with Leinan sobbing in the background. “Thine own strokes, Wizard.” And proffered the pale stick to him.

Barnibus hurriedly shook his head. “Nay. Y-you do them.”

‘You soft hearted sissy.’ Hat said in his head as The Forerunner grinned and danced away again. The yowling started back up again a moment later. ‘Would have been kinder to have done yours yourself. You don’t have an immortal’s strength backing your swings.’

* * *

And the moon glowed and wind slowed, and the fire burned bright and no one did fight.

The Forerunner sat on her rock by the fire, grinning the grin of a cat which had all the canaries exactly where she wanted them.

The Wizard sat on his log not nearly across from her — five did not lend itself to seating across from anyone — worrying at his beard with stiff fingers and looking very very ruffled. His hat was drawn low over his eyes and its brim spread like a wide blue halo about his ears.

Three children sat hunched in on themselves and looked very very small indeed, and one of them, older than the other two, practically a grown woman by most definitions, sat very gingerly and kept wiping tears from her eyes.

The Fae were not evil. But neither were they kind. This Fae — because, by now, Barnibus was certain that that was what she was — looked around the depressed circle.

She clapped her hands once, twice, three times. And giggled a giggle of pure merriment and childish intrigue. “Well here we are, Wizard from afar. An accord we hath made, an’ ere the night fade, entertainment an glee shall thee grant unto me. Te-heeheehe!”

And the Wizard stood up, his eyes burning with — something. It wasn’t a Knowing Twinkle. They didn’t Glimmer in Fear. Nor Flash in Panic. But they burned with something else. Something ill defined. Determination? Desperation? Courage, or curiosity? Daring? Or maybe a mix of it all. They Burned.

And the Wizard stood.

He stood tall, like a Wizard’s Rod though he had none.

Tall like a Staff of Power, though he had left his actual and rather meager staff leaning on the wall in the library next to his crystal ball which was by no means actually made out of crystal.

He stood tall in front of the Fae, like no Wizard had stood in either world for longer than mortal memories could remember, and he said to The Forerunner of all the Fae —

“By my beard! I could really use some tea!”

And then his robe leapt up and fetched it for him.