"Have I ever told you," asked Jasp Underground, when the entire party was seated together out on the sun-drenched deck of the Merry Faerie, "of the derivation of my Order name?"
"No," said Darius. "And since we've some hours' travel, perhaps nearly a day, why not regale us with the story, for whatever time it passes?"
"That I shall, my good sir, and glad I am to find you in such spirits. May you always be well, my friend. Well, of course you all know of Drop River, and whence comes its name."
"Of course," said Tom.
"Of course, of course. It's because of its course, yes? Well. It comes in from First Sea, down the Drop River Mountains, through the Drop River Forest, and then- poof!- it drops below ground for, say, 450 to 500 miles or so, before reemerging to the surface, and continuing on down towards Drop Lake."
"Yes," grumbled Tom, "I believe I said we knew that."
"So sorry, sir. I'm in an expository mood, I'm afraid. Well then, when I was a child growing up in Tonad, which was of course founded right by the spot where the river drops underground, I was quite interested in geography, and spelunking, and such and so forth. And so one day I ventured alongside the river, and underground..."
"And that's where the name 'Underground' comes from," said Tom.
"Well, yes, to make a reasonably brief story painfully short. Yes." He sighed. "Well, I suppose I didn't really have much of an adventure, down there. Just wandered around for awhile until I got bored. Aside from my encounter with an ogre, almost completely uneventful and boring. Never did get anywhere near the point where the river heads above ground again, either. Went maybe fifteen miles, in fact, before turning back home. Subsequent visits took me never more than twice that far, and usually considerably less than the original trip. Still, took up a fair part of a few of my teenage years, going down there did. Sometimes alone, sometimes with friends."
"Please, go ahead and tell us about the ogre, if you want," said Ginger. "Tom's being rude. He gets like that, it seems."
"No, no, he's quite right. No need to bother. But I'll say this: He was actually a fairly nice sort of ogre. I've talked to him once in a while over the years since I first met him. Said some of his ancestors migrated north a long time ago, but one was left behind unintentionally. Which was just as well, because that one ancestor eventually met a lovely, by ogre standards, ogress with whom he fell in love and had ogrelings, and eventually this descendant came along, my friend Jagshard."
"He told you all this, did he?" asked Ginger. "I mean, I'd always heard ogres were semi-intelligent, at best. I was never quite sure if they even could speak."
"Oh, well, they can. True, their intelligence seems less than ours, and many stories make them out not to do more than grunt. But they were created with the potential for speech. It was necessary, as apparently they were intended to be used as a weapon, or more accurately, an army, by some mad schemer who wanted to take over the world. Or so their lore holds it. Actually, Jagshard wouldn't tell me too much about that, because it was a subject rather taboo among his people, and certainly not to be spoken of with outsiders. But I got the impression whatever happened all that time ago had something to do with the ogre migration. And that migration, sometime in the 600's I think, was how there came to be ogres in what would later be called by men the Kimrin Mountains."
"So, you weren't ever really scared or in any danger from Jagshard?" asked Emma.
"Well, we didn't exactly walk up and introduce ourselves when we first spotted each other. After all, we were both far from home and our own kind, and neither of us had ever met each other's kind before. And of course, we'd both heard little if any good about each other's kind. No, we were both amply cautious. But eventually we worked out that we meant each other no harm, and we had fun sharing information about our respective races, and families, and so forth. Of course, we never told our families about each other, for fear of endangering each other. People can be pretty stupid about things they only think they know about, you know."
"You can say that again," agreed Darius.
"Anyway... I don't quite know what else to say. Yes, I went underground often, along Drop River. And that's how I chose my surname, years later, when the Order passed the surname law when the Coming was completed."
"Did any of your friends who went with you ever meet Jagshard?" asked Ginger.
"One did. A girl about nine years my junior. Cabbit was her name- and still is, of course. When I was I think sixteen, on one of my last trips underground, she must've been about seven, she followed me down. Oh, quite unbeknownst to me. I never let my friends find out about Jagshard, for various reasons, including the one about not telling my parents about him. But anyway, the entrance I took to the underground tunnel the river followed was actually on her family's property, though not in obvious sight.
"Our families were neighbors and friends, and there was some little get-together that I ditched one afternoon, and Cabbit followed me. I figured that out just after meeting Jagshard; when she saw him, she just walked right up and introduced herself to him. She wasn't afraid or anything, just curious. Well, he introduced himself, too. I was just very embarrassed, and brought her home as soon as I could drag her away from her new friend. I told her never to tell anyone about him, and as far as I know she never has.
"Still, her parents were terrified she could have been hurt, when they found out where she'd been, even without knowing about the ogre. They boarded up the entrance, after forcing me to show it to them. They also sat Cabbit down and gave her a stern talking to about taking risks. She sort of built up a protective mental wall after that, but I think she's finally starting to come out of it, after all these years. Anyway, I hope so. But back then, she definitely changed, got a lot shier and less fearless and impetuous. I kind of made it my mission to try to tear that wall down, and over time I've had a little success. I gave her a job as a spy some time after I'd become LandOrder's chief spy in Tonad. That helped a bit, but she's still improving.
"Oh, of course I found another entrance after the old one was boarded up. It was a good bit farther away, and this time on no one's property. I couldn't just leave my friend and never see him again, with no explanation, could I? Anyway, as I said, that was near the end of my visits. Haven't seen him in years, but at least we got to say good-bye. Cabbit never went back down there, and now I'm not at all sure she even remembers."
"So... you think of her as a little sister, I take it?" Ginger asked.
"Um... no, well, not really. I mean, for some years I guess I sort of did, but now... she's a friend, and a coworker. Mostly a friend. Maybe... well, nevermind maybes."
"Ah. Okay." Ginger hid a grin.
"Are we there yet?" asked Tiejo.
"No," said Tom. "You'll know when we're there. The boat will stop moving, and the crew will yell at everyone to get off."
Tiejo sighed. "Then has anyone more stories to be telling?"
"Well," said Tom, "I suppose I could tell you all of my master Drexl, who taught me the fine art of masks. The making of, and performing with. I always thought of it as an interesting counterpoint to Stemin, who taught me to read faces... although actually, the two arts have both differences and commonalities. For example...."
Tiejo and Emma listened to Tom talk about masks for hours. The others eventually drifted off to their cabins.
The ferry docked at Jump Village Harbor about Second Two the next morning, and all passengers headed for their wagons, including the Chaos party. When instructed, they took their turn to fly out to the landing area on the shore. Alecstar then went off to hire a team of striders for the duration of their stay; they expected to be in town perhaps a few days. Just before Star left, Tiejo asked if it wouldn't make more sense to take the wagon, and Star explained that rental agencies often provided leader-spells, which are small hand-held devices specifically enchanted to coax animals into following the bearer, in a very tame, leisurely fashion. Such spells could also be used to let a stranger ride a strider, if he preferred. Tiejo found the idea fascinating, and thought of asking Star if he could go along, but after a few moments' vacillation, decided to wait with the others at the wagon.
After Alecstar had departed, Tom turned to Cameron and said, "Speaking of those internal enchantment engines-"
"Which, of course, we were speaking of a few days ago."
Tom gave him a quizzical look, as if he didn't see the point of Cameron's qualification, then simply shook his head and continued. "Of course. Anyway, speaking of them, what I want to know is, just how innovative are they, really? I mean to say, how exactly are they different from whatever sort of enchantment allows things to fly? Well first let me say, the differences I see are these: That what we got now can fly, but can't travel unaided on land; and the new thingamajigs can take land routes, but can't fly. What I really don't understand is, how can something that can move forward at great speeds in the air not move forward at all on land?"
"Well, to answer your first question- what I think was your first question- the main innovation is that the magic doesn't have to be recharged, as with current vehicles."
"Like gas," suggested Ginger.
"What have lights and stoves to do with transportation?" asked Tom.
"It's something Zephrey once told me about, vehicles on some planets use a kind of liquid gas-"
"Isn't that an oxymoron?" asked Darius.
"I'm afraid he never really got me to understand that myself, other than to say it was actually short for 'gasoline,' which was made of gases and other things, besides which it all depends on what temperature a substance is at, anyway. I'm afraid I haven't much of a head for alien sciences. He always consoled me about such things by reminding me how much faster everyone on the Land advanced than on other worlds. Here it is nine hundred twelve years into our world's existence, and where do you suppose Earth was in their 912th year? We've advanced thousands of years faster than they did, he says. It's just that they had a great head start on us.
"Anyway, I digress. They used gas to power their vehicles, all sorts that go over land, through air, and on water. Not for a long time now, on Earth, but some still do on other worlds. And they had to refill their gas tanks quite often. Much more often than magic must be recharged."
"You know," said Cameron, "magic is of course basically based on science, just much more advanced science than most planets have. And yet in time it will surely be replaced by lower sciences. So we'll probably use something like this gasoline to power vehicles ourselves, someday. Well, long after we here are all gone, though. And then in the distant future, science will even go beyond today's magic."
"Haven't we had a conversation like this before?" asked Tom. "Anyway, so how is it we won't have to go in to garages to have Sorreters recharge our magic? I don't understand what could be so different..."
"Well," said Cameron, "I don't fully understand it either. I'm sure it wouldn't take much studying to understand the fundamentals of it, though. All I've heard is that somehow, they've designed a sort of self-repeating, or looping spell. The magic doesn't drive the engine directly, as is the current method. Or I shouldn't even say engine perhaps, because that's not what we have now. What we have now is... well, probably not really explainable in layman's terms. Or at least it would take a while. But the new design does have a sort of engine, in fact come to think of it, probably very much akin to one that would be fueled by gasoline, except that we haven't the means to make gasoline yet, most likely. Based on introductory science courses I had to take at SMA, I would assume gas would be burned and converted into actual gas, as in a state of matter, which might...."
Cameron trailed off into silence for a few moments, before saying, "Um, forgive me. I've kind of lost.. where I was going with that. You ever get a picture in your head for just a moment, and then lose it, irretrievably?" They all nodded. "Anyway, maybe I'll get a chance to look at plans for one of the new engines someday. I expect this is rather a fusion of magic and science, that will work better than either one would alone. What I've heard is that the magic somehow drives the new engine, which actually provides the work that moves the wagon or carriage. Meanwhile, the magic doesn't dissipate because it hasn't done any real work itself. It merely cycles through the engine and back into the enchantment engine, and then repeats the process as long as the engine is engaged. I'm sorry, I'm speaking of two separate engines here. The enchantment engine is actually quite different from... the engine that does the real work...."
He shook his head, and continued, "Now, to get into your other questions, Tom, magic is still an expensive thing. You know that it takes a Sorreter a certain amount of mental and physical energy to produce and direct magic; or rather, well... the common usage of the term 'magic' is a bit inaccurate. It's tricky to explain the proper technical definition, really. The word's actually an abstract concept, more than anything tangible. We all have within us various energies, as I said, though to simply call them 'physical' and 'mental' is oversimplifying. There are actually several different types of energies, which is too complicated to go into in detail right now, and not really necessary. Suffice to say, Sorreters learn to direct and mix these energies in specific ways to create desired 'energy compounds,' of which there are a great deal more types than the original energies. Kind of like mixing three primary colors in different ways to produce an entire spectrum of different colors. Anyway, while the energies in their original forms perform natural functions autonomically, there's not much they could do that we'd think of as 'magic,' per se. However, the energy compounds, collectively referred to as 'mana,' are the source of our magic. So, using up our mana to cast spells drains us of the energies of which the mana is made up, the same as any normal physical or mental work would. And of course, just as with normal exertions, our energies may be replenished with food and rest. And just as with normal labors, it's reasonable to expect suitable compensation for magical work. Hence, as I said to begin with, magic is expensive."
"Okay," said Tom. "But it still sounds like magic is... well, magic. I don't quite get what you mean when you say it's just an abstract concept. Isn't magic the same as the spells you cast?"
"Ah, well, sort of. In fact, however, just now I've only been describing one kind of magic. As I've said before, magic is mostly based on very advanced science. And the energies within us are quite natural, and scientific, though not really observable or measurable or manipulable by means of the Land's current level of technology. So the way we work with it... well it's largely done through force of sentient will, but that's hard to explain and takes alot of training to be able to manage. And not everyone who studies magic turns out to have a great aptitude for it. But we also perform other types of magic which require certain scientific instruments or elements or any number of things... and it's not all about energy. Some of it is physical, such as the DNA manipulation that was used to create various mythical creatures as well as intelligent races such as Elves and Merfolk, all originating from human stock. To be honest, in the past few minutes I've already said more than we're supposed to say to non-Sorreters, though I suppose it's common knowledge that most if not all Sorreters are technically spirit-talkers, and basically none of what we do would be possible without at some point having received assistance from spirits. In any event, I fear I can't go into too much specific detail not only because it would be too complicated, but also because of binding restrictions against the divulgence of certain matters. We're literally incapable of saying some things to outsiders; if we tried, our vocal chords (or hands if we're writing it), or whatever, would just seize up. And magical authorities would be alerted and dispatched to our location to deal with such transgressions."
"Wait, do you mean to say that you're being constantly monitored?"
Cameron waved a hand dismissively. "Oh, no, of course not. There are rules against that sort of thing, as well. But it's like with Surreal, for example. If anyone attempted to play a real game of it, the magical authorities would know and immediately deal with the offenders, because it could be catastrophic. It's difficult to explain how they'd know, but it's not because we're being monitored. Hell, you don't even have to be a Sorreter to play Surreal, obviously. It's sort of like... an autoscry. A spell, or rather network of spells, cast over the populated area of the world. Like an open t-mail bubble, except it's impossible to hack into, by any magic. It will only activate itself for the authorities if it detects a specific thing it's listening for. So in a sense we're being monitored, but by a mindless, inanimate object. You might as well worry that you're being watched by a rock."
"If you say so," Tom dubiously allowed.
"In any event, I digress from the point at hand. Some kinds of spells or magics require actually little if any of our personal mana, but such things are fairly rare and extremely complicated, pretty much exclusively the province of master-adepts, and usually not something that can even be done by individuals, but rather by groups working on major projects. Though our friend Emma, here, is an obvious example that there are exceptions to every rule, as Roderick proved a century and a half ago." At this, Emma just grinned. "Anyway, most magic which is performed on a day-to-day basis by your average Sorreter- or sorcerer- does involve the expenditure of personal mana. A 'spell' is basically just the term for the effect that is produced by the controlled direction of mana which has been mixed for a specific purpose. You might say that the word 'spell' means 'mana that has left the body,' or that has fulfilled or is in the continuous process of fulfilling its purpose. Like meteors becoming meteorites, or magma becoming lava. Except... it's more complicated than that, sometimes.
"Ahem. I don't mean to lecture, I'm sure you're all very bored and/or confused. After all, I'm just an adept, not a master-adept. And obviously the term 'master' doesn't just connote a greater aptitude for the practice of magic, but also, more specifically, denotes having attained the level of a teacher of magic. And I'm clearly not a teacher."
"I dunno," said Darius, "I mean I don't think I'm ready for a pop quiz, or anything, but I think you're doing alright. At least I think my layman's sense of magic is improving."
"Uh... what the heck is a 'pop quiz'?" asked Tom.
"Oh, sorry. It's a technique I hear they're using these days in schools, a spur-of-the-moment sort of test for students, to see if they've absorbed the material they're being taught without warning, or time to prepare."
Tom shook his head. "Schools. Feh. Another innovation of the Order. I prefer the old days of one master teaching one apprentice one trade."
"One at a time, anyway, in your case," suggested Ginger with a wry smile. "In a way, I think people like you, jacks-of-all-trades, are like the prototypes for schools. Many masters, many subjects... just without the convenience and efficiency of teaching it all in one place in just a few years. Must be easier than travelling the world to learn so many subjects over the course of a lifetime."
Tom didn't bother replying to this. Instead, he looked back to Cameron and asked, "So, how is it sometimes more complicated?"
"Hmmm?" After taking a moment to think back in the conversation, he picked up his old train of thought. "Oh, well... it's sort of about whether the spell has a direct effect, or if it affects an object which then... becomes sort of magical, itself. Anyway, what we call 'magic' basically refers to all the different things that are done by Sorreters and sorcerers, whether through the use of mana or higher technologies and so forth, as well as the different types of spells, direct and indirect, etc. Spells are really just a type of magic. Magic is not something we produce or direct, but rather the result of that which we produce or direct. And a spell is sort of one direction. I don't know if I'm saying this quite right or making any sense. We don't produce the energies within us, nor do we produce the mana, any more than you could say a painter produces a new shade of paint from two shades of paint that were already in his paint pots. Well, it's like the law of conservation of energy. It isn't created or destroyed, just changes form. Nor do we produce spells as such, any more than you would produce water by building an irrigation system. The water was already somewhere, you just moved it somewhere you wanted it to go that it wouldn't have on its own. So... um..."
"So what you're saying," said Tom, "is that magic is what happens when you use your mind to mix two kinds of paint that occur naturally inside your body, then extract the new color of paint and pour it into an aqueduct. Once the paint has gotten where it's going."
Everyone grinned at this, including Cameron, who replied, "Uh, yeah. Sort of. Sometimes. That's one example, anyway, the main one. I guess. Um..."
"So, now that we've had a vocabulary lesson, can we get back to the explanation of internal enchantment engines?"
"Right. Okay. So, different spells take different amounts of energy, some hardly any at all, and some a great deal. And then there are the spells that we can produce (or not produce, but for ease of reference...) well, indirect spells which can be used by non-Sorreters. These can be things like t-mail bubbles, recording devices, or flying spells. For the latter, an object must be thoroughly infused with magic, or rather externalized mana, enough to lift it and any passengers and cargo. A flying carpet takes about as much magic as a quick translocation, for a month of continued usage. Of course, most anything one flies will have magic enough in it for several months, or up to a year. And the bigger the object, the more magic it requires. A full sized wagon, which may be required to carry a great deal of weight, takes more magic than I know how to describe, and can generally only be trusted for about two months before it should be recharged. Needless to say, that kind of magic isn't going to be produced by a single Sorreter in a single sitting, but rather it has to be stored up over time, before it's even applied to a flying device.
"Now, I suppose they could use flying spells in conjunction with the new engines, but... that much magic... the magic to make it fly plus the enchantment to move it forward... would be prohibitively expensive, and also, there's only so much magic an object can bear at one time. Too much magic could damage its structural integrity. These spells have to be precisely calculated by teams of trained mechanics and Sorreters, in conjunction. Besides which, different types of spells sometimes interfere with each other. So it probably wouldn't be very safe flying in a wagon with an enchantment engine. There may well be other reasons they aren't made to fly; as I say, I haven't read too much about them, and I'm mostly making educated guesses here."
"Fine, whatever. But I still don't see why what we have now can't move on land. Surely if it can move forward in the air, it can do so on the ground, and use less magic in doing so. I mean, it sounds as if traditional flying devices would need two separate spells, anyway; one for levitation and one for forward movement..."
"I can see where you'd think that, but it really is much more complicated than you'd think. There are lots of reasons why it doesn't work like that, and I could explain a few of them, given a few hours. Others would probably be impossible to explain to a non-Sorreter. But I've already said different types of spells can interfere with each other, and the spells used to make wagons and such things fly are of the same type, while internal enchantment is a different type of spell altogether. And while in its own way it's more powerful and efficient than traditional spells, it's still not nearly powerful enough to create lift. It isn't even entirely a matter of magic, but rather of simple physics."
"I really don't think that makes sense."
"Listen, aerodynamically-"
"Hey, this has been real fun and educational," said Darius, "but I think I'm going to stretch my legs." What he was mainly thinking was he didn't want to sit around listening to Tom in one of his argumentative moods, but in truth, he did feel a little cramped in the wagon.
"Tiejo too!" exclaimed the street rat.
And so the two of them climbed out the back, picked a random direction, and started walking.
Darius walked very casually, hands clasped behind his back, and admired the scenery. "Jump Isle really is quite beautiful, don't you think, Tiejo?"
Following a pace behind and to the right, Tiejo was constantly swinging his head from side to side, back to front, up and down. "Yes, beautiful. Nice trees, nice grass, nice flowers, pretty creeping and flying creatures all about."
"Why, Tiejo, that sounded remarkably cogent, my dear boy!"
He shrugged and said, "No consistencies there are being in my speech, methinks. Even irregularities are inconsistent. Words leave Tiejo's mouth as they come into my head. Not knowing am I why they come in the order they do. First person, third person; good grammar, silly willy nilly grammarings; coherence and sensibility or what with the attention deficit; is all being the same to Tiejo. Perhaps the madness it is. Crazy Streetrat, remember?"
Darius smiled. "Yes, I re-"
"Look! Pretty grove of trees!" shouted Tiejo, and he dashed off towards them. Darius chuckled and ran after him.
Though the street rat was faster than him, it didn't take long to catch up, for once Tiejo got to the little wooded park, he slowed down to look at everything closely as he passed. Darius took a look back behind before entering the wood. They were still outside the village proper, but aside from this grove, as they walked civilization had been more and more encroaching, or they had been encroaching upon it. If he had never been here before, he might have assumed this natural park was the last vestige of wilderness before one truly entered town. Of course, having been in Jump Village on several occasions, he knew they took great pride in integrating nature with urbanism. It would in fact be difficult to find any area of the village which was entirely devoid of at least a few trees or flowers.
He'd never actually been into this grove, but he'd passed by it before, and knew it wasn't too large. Walking past it took perhaps ten centhours at a good pace; taking a casual stroll through it shouldn't take much more than twenty, if that. And he didn't really expect to go that far now; they'd have to be getting back to the wagon soon.
He caught up with Tiejo and joined in the nature-watching. The trees were mostly a mix of cypress and palm, and a few others Darius recognized but didn't know the names of. There were also the occasional century plants, still far from full grown (88 years to go, thought Darius), as well as countless types of flowers, in just about every color.
Tiejo was watching a squirrel-bat scurry up a tree, and Darius could tell he wanted to follow it with more than just his eyes. Darius started to smile, but suddenly felt a flush of depression coming over him. He backed up, and turned to choose a tree to slump against, as he felt his mood draining the strength from him.
But just as he turned, two people jumped from behind a thicket of trees, swords drawn. One was a rather large man perhaps a few years older than Darius, the other a young woman probably a year or two Darius' junior.
"Have at you!" shouted the man, with a somewhat goofy grin that belied his obviously intimidating size and strength.
"Your money or your life, villain!" echoed the woman.
"I haven't much money on me at the moment," Darius said, "which is just as well, because just now, my life isn't worth that much to me. And my friend has even less than I do."
"What friend?" asked the man.
"He's right.." said Darius, turning to point Tiejo out; but he didn't see him. "Um..." He glanced about, and then up; Tiejo was halfway up the squirrel-bat's tree. "There," said Darius, pointing.
"What is he, nuts?" asked the woman.
"Yes, actually. But quite charming. His name's Tiejo Streetrat, and I'm Darius Lonewander. And you are?"
Turning back to face Darius, she said, "Hey, don't you know when you're being waylaid? Maybe you're nuts, too. You don't seem to know how to react properly to people waving swords at you and threatening your life."
"Well, you know, normally I'd disarm you and demand you explain yourselves to my satisfaction, lest I turn you over to the authorities. But by coincidence, just before you jumped out at me, I entered a little bout of depression. They come over me sometimes, I'm afraid. And when they do, taking my life strikes me more as an offer than a threat. And I thank you kindly. But anyway, if you're gonna take my life, do it." He took off his money pouch and lightly tossed it to her. "You can have this, too. But please, leave Tiejo alone. He never did anyone any harm. ...And if you're not going to take my life, the least you could do is introduce yourselves, as I have."
"Fine," she said with a sigh. Then she brightened and declared, "I am Maid Marian, and this is Little John. We are merry persons who rob from the evil and the annoying and the overly lucky, to give to those poor, good souls who have precious little luck of their own."
"That'd be us, mainly," said John, with a grin.
"You see," continued Marian, "the world is terribly unjust, unfair. So many good people can try their hardest, be totally honest and hard-working, basically do all they can to fit in and work within the system. And then the system just goes and screws them. They may be left with no choice but to become outlaws or die. Well, it's not like we ever wanted to be outlaws, but hell... society gave us each a choice, and we made it. As much as I might dislike being a criminal, I'd dislike dying even more. And I'm pissed at any system that demands such a choice of us. Right, John?"
"Right you are, Marian. Well spoken." Turning to Darius, he said, "...Would you believe I used to be a policeman? Oh, I managed to support myself in a limited capacity, and there was some fun to be had in it, not to mention the pride I took. But when in the course of duty I was injured nearly to the point of death and it took all my savings to pay the doctor, and I was laid up for over a month, the department fired me for missing a month of work! Can you believe it? My landlord took pity on me and let me stay without paying rent until I healed, but after that I was tossed out on the street, with no money, no job, nowhere to go and nothing to do!"
"That sucks, man."
Marian sighed in exasperation and said, "He doesn't need our life stories, John."
"No, really, please," said Darius. "This is taking my mind off my depression. I still could use an ale or two; why don't you guys come into town with me and my friends, have a drink together. Maybe some fish and chips or something; I know a nice little pub..."
"Did you say 'friends,' plural?" asked Marian. "You mean, more than just the street rat?"
"Yes, they're back at the wagon. We really should be getting back to them. Alecstar must have the striders by now."
John sheathed his sword and turned to his partner. "Yeah, come on, Marian, I'm hungry. I need to eat."
Tiejo jumped down from the tree, landing beside Darius. "Tiejo can be Will Scarlet, hmmm? Yes? I call Scarlet! ...Or maybe Much. Hmmm."
Marian sighed again, and rolled her eyes. Looking back to Darius, she asked, "You're not particularly lucky, are you?"
"Well, I've never thought much about it. I've had my share of good luck and bad. Some of both has been earned, and some of both not. I don't know that I necessarily deserve to have had anything published, for example; but then, it doesn't sell that well, anyway. On the other hand, I'm pretty sure I didn't deserve to have nearly my whole clan killed when I was fourteen."
"Oh... I'm sorry..." she said in a sympathetic tone. Quickly, though, she recovered her stern and businesslike demeanour. "Well, are you rich?"
"I was born that way, but I'm not now. I have more than enough in the bank, and tidy stashes in various places. But I certainly wouldn't say rich, no. And by the way, I wholeheartedly agree with what you were saying, earlier. My clan were good people who raised me to think of everyone as equals, but some were just less fortunate. We should do whatever we can to help such people, they always said. And since I've been out travelling the world, I've seen lots of pointless suffering and poverty, lots of injustice. I have good, hard-working, intelligent and talented friends who are abysmally unlucky. Tiejo isn't the only Streetrat I know. And it totally outrages me, frustrates, and saddens me to see it. I don't consider you outlaws, in any sense but technically. And I agree not all laws should be strictly followed if it is not possible, no matter how hard you try, to follow them and live. What's more, I know there are people who are unjustly driven to acts of desperation, who then abandon all their principles. It's nice to see people who won't steal indiscriminately, people who at least try to take only from those who can afford it, who have more than they deserve. It does seem that that is what you do."
"And what exactly do you do, besides get depressed, write, take crazy street rats into the woods, and deliver long, meandering... rambles? Or is that about it?"
"I adventure, as do those waiting friends I spoke of. Also, I'm planning a rebellion called 'the Chaos,' which is just getting slowly organized. Maybe we'll make the world a slightly better place. I hope so."
"So do I. Well, besides banditry, we also do some adventuring."
"And I try to do a little stage work for plays, when I get a chance," said Little John. "You know, building sets and whatnot."
"That sounds fascinating. You know, some of my friends are musicians, and they occasionally provide music for plays, so I hear. I've only known them a very short while, though. Mostly they play inns and taverns, I think."
"Well, we look forward to meeting them," said Marian. "I could stand to eat, myself." She finally sheathed her sword, and then she returned Darius's bag. "I suppose we might as well get going, then."
They turned, and the four of them began walking back the way Darius and Tiejo had come. "Good," said Darius. "By the way, I call Robin Hood."
Marian sighed yet again, and they continued on their way.
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