World Gathering, Episode 12: Shee-oot! Lookit That Thar Dragon!

As I made my way to the Everglades--flying high enough that the casual observer would mistake me for an odd-looking eagle or a bat with insomnia--I filed all the annoyances of the weekend: Gozon and his mysterious speech, Galendor's coincidentally timed appearance, Brunhilda the vamping Valkyrie, Coyote--there was an annoyance I wished I could file away permanently. I savored the irony of the brownies making a mess of people's things while trying to clean them--only in Mundane--and, God forgive me, I savored the thought of Grace getting into a magical cat fight with "Terpie." I really wish I'd have been there to see it.

 I found the national park with no trouble and selected a nice secluded spot for my nap. It was a little damp for my tastes, but in the heat of the afternoon, the tepid water felt refreshing, and after scaring off anything stupid enough to get in my way, I settled down among the reeds for a snooze. I did devote part of my attention to keeping tabs on my environment, however. Mundane fauna didn't recognize dragons as a natural predator. My size might deter most of them, but I didn't want to take a chance on some alligator or puma with delusions of grandeur thinking I'd make a nice lunch.

Of course that also meant that half an hour into a very nice nap, I became aware of humans talking. Two of them had mouths so foul that if they'd been on television, the conversation would have sounded like this:

"Whoa! What the (bleep) is that?"

"(Bleep) if I know. (bleep) (bleep). Let's (bleeping) stay the (bleep) away from the (bleeping) thing. (bleep!)"

"Like (bleep). I want a closer look."

"(Bleep) that. It looks (bleeping) dangerous. I'm staying (bleeping) far away, (bleep/personal insult)."

"You (bleeping) coward. I'm the one who's gonna get (bleeping) close to the (bleeping) thing. You just keep the (bleeping) camera rolling."

Obviously not a tourist group; maybe some natives out for thrills. I stayed still and feigned sleep. I was going to give them the thrill of their lives.

I almost blew it, though, then someone said, "Action!" and PottyMouth screeched out, "Sheeeew-Dang! Can you see that big ol' snout hidin' in them thar bushes? I'm tellin' you, chile, I ain't nevah seen no gator that size or color a'fore."

Big snout? Me? Now he was asking for it.

"Look at them teeth. I sweahr, they's the size of my bowie, they is. Jes look." I heard something snap and a friction sound like a large knife against a plastic case. I waited for him to try to lay his knife near my canines, but he didn't approach, and I guessed the camera was doing a close-up. At least this time they'd get my better side. I wondered who these jokers were.

I heard him put the knife back in its sheath and say, "Yessir! This here critter ain't like nuthin' I ever seen. We may've jes found us a new species. You know the Everglades is home to twenty threatened species and fifteen endangered species, including the Day-Lee-own sable sparrow and the south Florida American speckle-headed turtle. She-oot, we ain't got no turtle here, do we? Let's see if'n we can get ourselves a closer look."

I waited while he snuck up close, muttering reassurances and facts to me and the camera audience. Then as I heard the tendons in his knees creak as he knelt, I opened my eyes and said, "Shee-ooot! That thar accent is thicker than cold pea soup!"

Some days, it's gratifying to hear the screams.

If you like the story, the book is even better!

More antics, more mystery, new ending. Order from Amazon. 

(c) Karina Fabian.  World Gathering first appeared in serial in The Prairie Dawg

World Gathering, Episode 11: Would Schrödinger's Cat Eat Quantum Brownies?

At dinner, I found Grace in the con café with Shirley, laughing together and speaking in conspiratorial tones. Nonetheless, I heard Shirley murmur to Grace how Melchoir Rawlings was clasping his briefcase to his chest like a long-lost love.

Her own handbag, with looked like a Cheshire cat, with the tail as the handle and one stretched hind leg as the flap, was sitting on the table. My nose and magic sense caught something unusual about it. As I approached, I told her. "You know that thing's alive, right?"

"Thank you for noticing," the purse said wryly.

Shirley stroked the top of the cat bag affectionately. "I got it from the Interdimensional Internet. KamiKrafts. I thought it was a cute play on Shinto animism. I had fill out an adoption certificate and everything. I didn't know it was a real adoption. I brought him for Grace to see."

"So she can let the cat out of the bag?" We were speaking in normal voices now, so my comment drew a combination of groans and applause. Even Coyote, halfway across the room, raised his glass in salute. Then he ruined it by lapping out of it, dog-like. I know he did it just to annoy me.

Grace just signed longsufferingly. "No, we did think this might be the answer to our brownie dilemma. We leave kitty in a mess in an out-of-the-way area, and…"

I grinned. Finally, something that showed some promise. I asked the purse, "You sure? You may end up spending a lot of time in a corner for nothing."

"Like I haven't done that before,” the bag cat replied. “It'll be the most fun I've had in years. We'll have to do something to mask my true nature, though."

"Any way to make it look like Melchoir's briefcase? Maybe give it an elf 'scent'?" I asked.

Grace said, "You think they're targeting Gozon's?"

"If not, they have an odd un-brownie-like affinity for expensive leather attaché cases."

"Well, I can do it easily enough. But where shall we put it? We need someplace public enough to attract their attention and private enough that no one notices them."

"Why?" Shirley asked. "I realize that no one's actually seen the brownies in action, but why not just set up a messy room and trap the brownies when they come to clean it."

I tried to explain. "Brownies are interdimensional beings. They can only be in our dimension when in motion, but they're only in motion when they're not seen by someone of our dimension. Even a surveillance camera observing them is enough to cause them to cease moving--and thus cease to exist in our space-time."

"Kind of like electrons, then?" Shirley said. "Not literally, but in the fact that we can know where they are or we can know where they're going, but not both simultaneously?"

"It's a little more complex. There's also magic and uncertainty involved. If you know they're in a spot, they aren't. If you suspect they are and can suspend your certainty, they can remain there--or maybe not."

Shirley laughed. "Now we're talking about Schrödinger's cat. Except in this case, we're going to use the cat to catch the quantum elf. I'm so glad I came to WG this year! Say, what about behind the convention registration table? No one will bother with it, and it's a mess! Plus, it's not an especially busy area now."

"Great."  Then, despite myself, I yawned. "Sorry."

"When's the last time you slept?" Grace demanded.

I shrugged and tried not to snarl. "I tried, but someone has given out our room number and everybody wants their picture with The Dragon." Like that would be proof of anything in this day of PhotoShop and (cringe) animatronics.

"I have an idea," Shirley said. "The Everglades aren't too far from here if you fly. Maybe you could find a nice quiet spot?'

Warm, humid and no humans? This woman knew how to make my day.

She reached into her catbag and started pulling out stuff: sheets of music and scrap papers with notes--musical and handwritten--on them, lipstick, candy... No way the Brownies could resist this purse.  She finally found a map and showed me the park. It was huge; as long as no one tried to follow me, I should have no trouble finding a secluded spot for a well-deserved nap.

Grace took Schrödinger the Cat bag to get catalyzed. Afterward, Shirley would drop off the purse alone, so as to not arouse suspicion. "Pursey" would take a nice long nap, flap open, and hopefully, our do-gooder brownies would rise to the bait.

If you like the story, the book is even better!

More antics, more mystery, new ending. Order from Amazon. 

(c) Karina Fabian.  World Gathering first appeared in serial in The Prairie Dawg

World Gathering, Episode 10: Decent Proposal

Grace was tired and so was I, so we hopped one of the little golf carts that took folks to the rooms. Grace smiled at the driver and his buddy, climbed into the backseat and muttered in Gaelic, "the commercial quoters."

I grunted and steeled myself to hear them sing "Puff the Magic Dragon" or something. They remained quiet however, except when one would mutter, "O horror," and the other would laugh. It seemed a private joke, so I ignored them.

As we passed Gozon's room, the door opened and Brunhilde stepped out, carrying a large exercise duffel and wearing a long, silky bathrobe and high heels. Our jokers slowed down to gape, then burst into song, "Oh, Bwuunhiwlda! You are so Wuuuuv-weee!" She tittered and waved.

Grace clutched her cross. I knew she was thinking about what we hadn't seen more than what we had. "She and Gozon are adults--and nonhuman," I muttered. She nodded, but I knew it was hard for her to accept non-humans flaunting their different moral obligations. Each species had its own sins as defined by God and taboos set by their society. Wasn't my place to question--and Grace knew it wasn't hers.

Still. "But does Siegfried know?" she replied in Gaelic.

I shrugged and set my tail on her shoulder. "Let's not borrow trouble. We're in enough debt already." She set her hand on my tail and nodded.

She'd moved on to other things by the time we'd reached our room. "I should apologize to Shirley," she said as she set her harp in the closet. "It really wasn't fair to her that we got so…enthusiastic."

No sooner had she stepped toward the door than someone began pounding on it.

"Please! My seminar is coming up in half an hour!" Our knocker brushed past Grace and dumped his portfolio bag on the bed. The briefcase, I noticed, looked almost exactly like Gozon's--did the store have a sale or something?

More interesting, however, were the photos littering Grace's bed: men and women in suggestive poses, wearing traditional Faerie dress. The clothes were skillfully but obviously added in after the photos were taken. The captions read Melchoir Rawling Art Studio.

Looked like the brownies had found the Erotic Photography lecture.

Grace pursed her lips. "Interesting medium."

"Medium, smedium! Those…" He flipped his hands.

"Brownies."

"--Brownies have painted clothing on all my nudes! My art! It's just too much to process! Deep breaths! Deep breaths! Please, tell me you can remove this, this violation!"

Grace faked a sigh. "I can't." She didn't say she was sorry.

He pressed his fingers to his temples theatrically. I thought he was going to start crying.

High strung, this one was. But since I'm a nice dragon, I said, "Mel, babe. Deep breaths. You need to change your perspective. Work with me: what if you don't think of them as ruined art? Think of them as trend-setting expressions of social repression using an unexplored combination of medium, flaunting the modern Mundane's rebellion against morality and enticing viewers to experience the seductiveness of modesty."

Grace's jaw dropped, and Rawling glared at me from beneath his hand. I tilted my head compellingly. "You'll be a pioneer. 'Daring juxtaposition of primitive, yet radical gestures.'"

We watched as his face moved through expressions of anger, doubt, uncertainty and then the joy of discovery. "You're right! What a commentary on the base impulse of the masses incapable of appreciating a culturally promiscuous environment where the body is art! You're genius!"

He gathered up his photos, muttering artsy commentary to himself, and all but flittered out of our room.

When I nodded that he was well out of earshot, we hooted with laughter. "'The seductiveness of modesty'?" Grace laughed. "Some days, you still amaze me."

"Sister, some days, I amaze even myself!"

Many thanks to Lisa Mladinich of New York City for tips in art-critic-speak.

If you like the story, the book is even better!

More antics, more mystery, new ending. Order from Amazon. 

(c) Karina Fabian.  World Gathering first appeared in serial in The Prairie Dawg

World Gathering, Episode 9: The Magic in Music

“Here we are,” Grace said as we stopped in front of the conference room door.  She looked at the note in her hand.  “’A panel discussion on the magic in music moderated by Mensan Shirley Starke of Valkyrie Publications.’”

“Who else is on the panel?”  I asked.  I switched her harp to my side closest to the wall so it was out of the way of passers-by.

“Grace McCarthy!”

The voice was pure music, yet came off like a deodorant jingle.

Grace’s face froze.  Then she forced a tight smile.

“Euterpe, dear.”

The Greek Muse Euterpe looked every bit as you’d expect her to.  Her long silvery blonde hair didn’t have a strand out of place and when she flipped it--as she often did--it made a subtle sound like harp strings played at just the below the level of human hearing.  Her eyes were large and gray, her skin flawless, and her figure of--pardon the pun--Classic proportions.  Her smile was as tight as Grace’s.  Both ladies wore Green dots on their buttons, yet neither moved. 

Good thing.  Judging from the tension between them, any embrace was going to be a wrestling move.

Euterpe did her flip-thing--C resolving to A minor. “Why, look at you!  Here!  Still a nun!  I suppose that should be expected.  Always the serious type, preferring an ethereal God to a real man.  Just as well, I’m sure.  But why, oh, why did you choose an order with such dreadful colors?  And they’ve made you hide your hair.  I suppose that’s for the best, but why?”

“My beauty is in the Grace of God.  But you, Terpie!  Looking same as always.”  Grace’s false sincerity was like nails on a chalkboard and she clutched her cross tightly. For a moment I imagined them as dragons, circling and hissing with wings half-unfurled.  I wasn’t sure whether to laugh or intervene.  I decided to compromise by clearing my throat.   Yeah, I know.  How Mundane.

Terpie’s eyes flew to me and her face assumed a pout usually reserved for looking at guinea pigs.  “Oh, look!  It’s carrying your harp!”

Now it was Grace’s turn to intervene.  “And you brought your lyre.  Still stringing it with your own hair, too.”  Then she added to me, “It helps her get a good tone.”

The Greek Spirit of Music’s face tightened a notch, and Grace pressed her advantage.  “I haven’t heard any new compositions from Brandon lately.”

Again, Terpie’s grin seemed just a bit more strained, but all she did was run her fingers through her hair--four octaves of C.  “Yes, well.  It will be such an interesting panel--for them, of course.  And yourself.  Coming?”

“I’ll catch up.”

“You always did.  Toodles!”  She waved her fingers in the air like a sorority wanna-be and sauntered into the conference room.

Toodles.  Somebody studied the Faerie Book of Mundane Slang.  I turned to Grace, who was muttering a prayer for strength.  I waited until she was done, then handed her her harp. “Sure you don’t want me to go with you?”

“What?  No.  We could both do with knowing more about Mundane forensics.”  She smiled a genuine smile, though there was still a little strain in it.  “I’ll be fine. Terpie and I were in college together and we…have a history.”

“College?  What’d she study?”

“I never said she was a student.”  She sighed and muttered, “I told him she was bad for him in the long run.  He had talent.  He didn’t need a Muse.”  Lost in her thoughts, she went into the room without saying good-bye.

Grace was right about the Forensics lecture.  There was a lot of good information, enough for me to drive Captain Santry mad with suggestions when we got back, which was worth the trip alone.  Nonetheless, I decided to corner Bryant at another time and left during the Q&A to be at Grace’s room before her panel was done.

I got there just as people were filing out.  The Faerie were talking and chuckling, but the Mundanes were silent.  Stunned, even.  So stunned, they simply filed past my six-foot, quarter-ton scarlet-and-black bulk without even a glance.  I finally heard one guy say in a hush, “That was…” and his friend, “Yeah.”

After the last person emerged, zombie-like, from the room, Grace came out.  Her habit was rumpled and her wimple askew.  Some of her red hair was singed.  Wisps of smoke escaped from her harp case.

She was smiling with satisfaction. 

She straightened out her habit and tucked in her hair.  “How was the Forensics lecture?” she asked as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened.

The doors opened, and Euterpe came out, her saunter gone, clutching a section of her torn peplos with one hand and holding a harp with two snapped strings in the other.  Her hair looked like she’s been to a hairdresser on drugs.  Her eyes looked black and smudged--I hadn’t realized she wore make-up.  Her expression was somewhere between shocked and seething, but as soon as she saw Grace, she straightened and shook herself haughtily.  Her hair, appropriately, played B-Flat and became perfect, as did her makeup.  Her dress repaired itself. Again the two smiled their insincere smiles.

“It was so good to see you,” Grace volunteered first.

“Oh, we simply must do this again sometime,” Terpie oozed.  “But let’s not wait another 10 years.  I’d just cry to see you with more wrinkles.”

Grace held out her hands.  Terpie took them, and they did a half-hug/air kisses.

“Please tell Poly I pray for her.”

“I’m sure that’ll mean as much to her as it does to me. Toodles!”

I peeked into the conference room.  Sitting at a harp was, I assumed, Ms. Starke, her expression as dazed as those of her fellow Mundanes.  She kept staring around her as if expecting to see something other than the usual disarray of a used conference room, but there was nothing out of the ordinary. 

Unless you could sense magic.  The arcane aftermath was enough to make my scales stand up and my lips curl back. 

“Harp music,” I heard Ms. Starke mutter.  “I just wanted to talk about Faerie harp music.”

I turned to my partner, my question obvious in my expression.

“I think Terpie had an interesting time,” she said gaily.

If you like the story, the book is even better!

More antics, more mystery, new ending. Order from Amazon. 

(c) Karina Fabian.  World Gathering first appeared in serial in The Prairie Dawg