"You're some kind of psychic?" the reporter asked.
"Yes. The term varies from people to people." The woman indicated the plaques lining one wall. "As you can see, I've studied quite extensively and have certification in divination, clairsentient studies, meta-psionic enhancement, and needlepoint."
"'Needlepoint'?" asked the reporter.
"Hobbies help keep one's balance," responded the psionicist/mage. "Officially I'm listed as a clairsentient and diviner. Now, a soldier will be catching up with you shortly. General Tchon doesn't want anyone to get into trouble, you see. He's been authorized to give me one hundred crowns worth of information. However, I will answer four questions of yours and you'll keep the remainder to buy a nice walking stick for your Uncle Paul's upcoming birthday. Three weeks later he'll use the walking stick to beat off a mugger that would have killed him, so it all works out."
The reporter gaped momentarily. "How did you know I have an Uncle Paul and..."
"I'm psychic, remember?" The psionicist/mage shrugged. "I tend to do my research in advance, saves a lot of time and I can set my own pace. I dislike scurrying about at the last minute."
"Ah," said the reporter, realizing that this wasn't exactly the sort of psychic she'd been expecting. "Then this is..."
"The real thing, yes," said the psychic. "Okay, go ahead and ask your questions. I could just give you the answers but there are formalities to be observed."
"Uhm, is this for real with the Prince?"
The psychic nodded. "He is a native of the country called Japan who went through a series of magical adventures and ended up the prince of a kingdom set in a universe where different laws of physics and laws of magic hold sway. The whole bridal contest angle was cooked up as a compromise between various factions and groups within the court. He's actually a fairly nice guy, very forgiving, if a bit rough and tumble and prone to shooting off his mouth when silence would serve him better."
The reporter frowned thoughtfully. "What of that job offer?"
"If you take it you'll love your new job for about a month, then quickly begin discovering all the downsides they didn't tell you about," said the psychic. "Your instincts to go after a story and uncover all the salient details doesn't fit the different sort of reporting that comes with this new employer, who seems to be interested only in tiny snippets of truth."
The reporter, who was now in print journalism and was considering the CNN job, nodded thoughtfully at that. "What about -"
"Many of the things I saw made little sense to me," admitted the psychic, "but the image of a pot of gold and the name of a General of the Mills seemed to have relevance."
The reporter noted to get more of that stock. "And what about. Uhm. That is."
"Four months, two days from now," said the psychic. "You'll meet him while covering a story about a sniper. He's not quite what you'll expect, and he's not at his best that day, but you'll know him when he trips over a crack in the sidewalk while carrying a load of equipment back to the van."
"Ah," said the reporter, blushing slightly.
"Now now, child. It's one of the most common things I'm asked. Ah, here's the soldier. Don't pay attention to his flirting, by the way - he's quite the tomcat and not just in appearance."
There were monsters. Living breathing monsters.
The reporter decided this was thoroughly neat.
"So you deal in exotic pets?" asked the reporter. "Do you get much trade in them?"
"Yes, after all, in many cases a trained animal is a partner AND an indication of style," said the four-armed man. "The kind of animal friend one has is an indication of what the individual is like."
"I see," said the reporter. "Like a pirate with a parrot."
"Most of the pirates I've met, which I admit haven't been many, tend to choose low maintenence companions," said the proprietor, wondering what a 'parrot' was and maybe if he should acquire some. "For example, there's the privateer Blaze who has a fiirkat. Like this one."
The reporter looked into the cage and saw a pair of yellow eyes gazing back at him. It was sort of a domestic cat, if you ignored the antennae and the mane that ran in a mohawk-like stripe from the crest of its head to the tip of its tail. "Low maintenence?"
"Eats very little, mainly table scraps and the like. Useful too. Keeps vermin down to a minimum and has some pyrokinetic abilities. You can imagine how a pet being able to put out fires comes in handy on board a wooden ship," pointed out the proprietor.
"What's this?" asked the reporter, pointing to a nearby cage which had a bird whose feathers were not only black but seemed to absorb completely the light hitting it. Almost like sculpted shadow.
"That's a snitch," said the proprietor. "Very popular among some. They're naturally very stealthy and sneaky, and if the owner is a spellcaster they can see and hear what the snitch is observing. Illegal though in some areas. Have to get permits for one if you're in the Kingdom itself. Maybe something like this would be better?"
"Mu?" said the creature in the cage.
"A faerie?" asked the reporter.
"Nah, faeries are magical creatures and intelligent. Can't sell them," said the proprietor. "On your world do you have creatures which are very dangerous and other creatures which look like or are colored like those dangerous ones in order to fool predators not to prey on them?"
"Yes, protective mimicry I think it's called, though biology isn't my field. I'm usually in Sports reporting but I was the only person with any experience that my network could field in time," answered the reporter. "Nobuo Tengoyuki, NNT."
"Rogash Shonyo, Shonyo's Menagerie," replied the four-armed man. "Well, that's the case with this, it's not intelligent in the manner of a human or elf or such. Rather it starts developing along the lines of its environment. Associating with intelligent civilized creatures, it actually will develop more intelligence and act more civilized than one in the wild."
"It looks like a 'she'," pointed out Nobuo.
"Neither applies," assured Rogash. "Contact between two members of the species and they'll likely spin a coccoon between them. Eventually a new creature will hatch from the coccoon. Problem is the original creature dies off after four or five matings. Other than that they'll live for a couple of centuries. They're called feymarks - look sort of like pixies but don't have the smarts or the magic talents."
"And this?" The reporter walked past to something that looked like a black labrador retriever with the oddest silver eyes. Then a third eye opened on the dog's head.
"That is psi-hound. They're very popular in some areas. They're psychically sensitive, able to sense the presence of hostile magic or spirits, strong emotions, and they can make it difficult for people to spy on you with magic or psychic talents." The four armed man reached over and scratched the dog behind the ears. "They can sense the nature of someone's heart and won't go with a cruel or evil person though."
"Hmmm," said Nobuo, wondering if he dared see whether the dog liked him or not. He'd never been that introspective and wasn't sure he wanted to know. "Oh my..."
"Ah. That has the unimaginative but descriptive name of the fox-squirrel. A pack animal that adopts well into human habitats, comes from the world of Miyazaki IV... There's a sale today," began the animal handler.
The soldier assigned to the reporter quirked an eyebrow. There was SOMETHING about those critters. Some species just took an immediate liking to them, others never saw the appeal. Well, at least they were harmless. Mostly.
"What do you think, Rin?"
"I'd say we go for it! Right, Chizuko?"
"Miyuki, Rin, for once we are in agreement. That prince guy must have all the best food!"
"We don't stand a chance with Misato, so..."
"Commence - Operation Get A Prince!"
"Which of us should get it, that's the problem," said Rin. "We've got one ticket."
"Hmmmmm," hmmmed three young Japanese girls, wondering how they'd do this.
"You said it would simplify matters," accussed one minister.
"It has," said the elven councillor. "Look, we start with one thousand tickets that we've tossed out at random. Most of those won't even end up getting used, they'll be found by those who won't even have the vaguest interest in even meeting the prince."
"Hmmmph," grumped the ogrii minister.
"So that still leaves what, four hundred bridal applicants?" the dwarf was even more skeptical than the ogrii.
"Four hundred, then we do a simple application process that weeds out those who are simply unacceptable," continued the elf cooly. "With that we can drop the number to below a hundred. A few more obstacles and hurdles - we'll drop the number off even further. Once they get to that stage, we can let them off with some nice consolation prizes and the like after they fall prey to temptations and we'll have only our own candidates left."
"One from each race or a representitive in the case of complete species incompatibility," gruffed the dwarf. "I dislike all this politicking about."
"Civilization is the art of compromise," said the elf.
"I thought that was politics," grumped the dwarf.
"They are related principals," pointed out the elf.
"Hmmph," said the ogrii again. As an armor plated humanoid whose species was on a par with most races of tanarii or baatezu in terms of raw power, his race was not physically compatible with humans. "I don't really think having a queen representing an existing faction would work, and what's to keep someone of an existing faction from hooking up with one of these native girls?"
"From what I've observed of their cultures, most would take one look at an ogrii and faint dead away," said the elf. "No offense intended."
The ogrii shrugged as best his species could. His was a warrior race that developed in a place that made some levels of the Abyss look downright hospitable. Most races, including some fiends, were somewhat spooked on finding themselves facing an ogrii for the first time.
"Hmmm," said the dwarf. "Still, he's got a point. If any of these natives meet our naturally high standards and look likely to gain direct access to the prince - I'd expect at least some factions to seek to curry favor with the girls."
"You needn't worry about that," the elf assured them. "I have plans in place."
The dark elves listened and tsked over the usual politics.
"I can't belive Baron Anvil is actually cooperating with Baron D'Spriggan," said one of the dark elves.
"Baron Anvil sees that D'Spriggan might be successful in planting one of his daughters close to the prince," said a dark elven sword maiden. "They are quite comely, intelligent, ambitious. Well, except for one of them."
"She's just friendly," said a dark elven minstrel. He glanced around the room. "Whereas we?"
"We have an excellent shot at the prince ourselves, but the most important thing is to trip up the elven candidate," said the swordmistress. "Weasel politics are not how the kingdom should progress."
Meanwhile:
(Posted Sat, 10 Apr 2004 09:09)
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