Date: Wed, 23 May 2018 17:19:21 +0000 From: Nicholas Nicholby Subject: Boys Guild Chapter 6 Boys Guild Chapter Six This story is a work of fiction. It never happened, it never will. The characters and locations are all make believe and any resemblance to any place or person, living or dead, is simply in the mind of the reader and totally unintentional. Situations and sexual activities of the characters are fantasy, don't try dragon riding at home. The story is also the first in a series of stories about Kind Draviad's Realm. Please let me know if you enjoy by email to nicholas6996 (at) hot mail dot com Copyright 2018 by Nicholas Nicholby, all rights reserved. Not to be distributed or duplicated without express written permission of the author. The author hereby grants the Nifty Archive a non-exclusive, worldwide, royalty-free, perpetual, and non-cancellable license to use, modify or alter and edit copy for clarity or style, reproduce, display, make compilations of and distribute the work. The Boys Guild Flame, the Tallow boy, was excited almost to the point of combustion. The Archivist's youngest apprentice, Dewey, had come bursting into the Ship Chandlers' office with an urgent order for three racks of eight tube belaying pin sized tapers. Flame knew that there were not enough of this large sized taper in the stock barrels and he had immediately nipped out and down to the shingle front along the harborside to start the fires under the melting pot. He took his time in tending the flotsam wood he used for kindling and in the striking of the flint against the steel to create the sparks. His eyes sparkled as the sparks jumped from the stone against the seaweed and small tufts of copal he had shredded. Slow and steady breaths and a little fiddling of twigs and soon enough large driftwood was crackling very satisfactorily as wisps of smoke rose and wreathed his head. Oh he loved the smell of fire, the flickering of the licking flames, the pop and snaps as trapped water began to bubble and steam from inside the wood. The frantic dance of ants and bugs first woken from their sleep, then steered away from their normal pursuit of food and finally to the realization of their mortality as the heat continued to build until they too popped and crackled as internal moistures boiled them alive from the insides out. He was equally as fascinated with the sharp sting and sizzle of his own flesh as a spark popped out and landed on his arm. Most boys would have quickly stamped the place with their other hand, Flame used his other hand to stabilize the smoldering arm so the spark would not too quickly fall away as he observed up close the bubbling of his skin and the shriveling of the short soft hairs. He took a moment to sniff and note the difference in his own burning smell from that of the wood and rope and bugs of the larger fire. A sudden thump and groan of the metal pot as it expanded to the heat had him return attention to his greater task and after using a stick to slather a little newly melted tallow on his burnt arm he began to cut and toss the sheep fat and beef fat slabs in equal measure into the cauldron. A day of imaginative play while working had Flame start as desert island castaway scrounging for treasure along the wrack-line. Once treasures of wood and other combustibles were found he transformed into vengeful giant spreading flame and death. Then a time as deeply dark and demented witch and warlock tending bubbling cauldron gave way to dreams of grim black reapers sweeping swaths of death as he skimmed and ladled impurities from the morass. A final stint of clever wizardly alchemical scooping and decanting had the moulds filled and the whole now just needed the advancement of time to cool and set. Perfect opportunity for cloud gazing and perhaps daydreams turned to sleep dreams in a nap. The Chandler found him curled near the remnants of the fire now carefully pulled aside from beneath the well cooled pot. The man smiled to see the tapers perfectly formed and ready to be unmoulded. Now Flame was pushing the barrow of tapers to the Nifty Archive shoppe and humming his little tune of Who Would Buy although he knew these were already sold. Dewey met him and helped carry the tapers into the dim interior. As the Archivist himself inspected and approved the lot Dewey grabbed Flame's hand and led him toward the Tales of Ancient Times section of the stacks. The two were first giggling and then grinning and then groaning and finally panting as the newest story from Nicholas was unfolded before their eager eyes. Eyes full hands soon followed suit and then the grunts and squeals of rapture could be heard all the way to the front where the Archivist was counting payment for the tapers into the Chandler's hand. The Chandler grinning at the flushed expression and glazed eyes of the boys who had came stumbling from the stacks. He tossed the final copper into the bowl marked http://donate.nifty.org/donate.html as he laughed and thanked the Archivist for keeping the boys happy and orechasmically replete. "That's a fine collect you keep here. I'll encourage more ships captains to send a bit to Nifty Archive Alliance PMB 159 333 Mamaroneck Ave White Plains, NY 10605 Many a ships lad could use a good education while tossed about among the waves." The Archivist smiled and of his mind thanked those who told him Nicholas had suggested they donate their own copper or three to ongoing expenses. Chapter 6 - Boy or Girl What are You The Guild of Boys and in fact the entire town was abuzz with discussion and speculation on the coming King's Competition. The TownCrier had read the proclamation and an army of boys from all the different courtyards had earned a copper each by making sure every Inn, Public House, Guild Hall and Market Square had a copy of the Broadside. Tomas had asked the Master Printer to hold his two silvers within the safety of the printshop. He and Clipper had walked around the market square a candle span or two this Queensday postnoon discussing the best way to spend the three coppers. They had examined apples and onions, sweet meats and hard sugar rocks, even considered a live chicken to take back to the Boys' Guild Hall for a cookout. Clipper had stood transfixed by the bright hair ribbons and Tomas was astounded to find a whole shelf of printed books. It had been a hard and thirsty deliberation and they finally decided the best thing would be to share a meat pie and some small beer back at the courtyard tavern. Sliding up to the bar Tomas ordered from the barkeep who poured their mugs completely full and would only take one copper in payment. The boys giggled at each other's frothy mustaches, they smacked their lips as two whole pies were brought to them. The barkeep raised his glass to them and smiled. Tomas was his favorite ale runner because every tankard came back ready to rinse and reuse, not like the molded over and chipped tankards some of the boys brought back grudgingly. Tomas even offered to pay when one of the tankards he had served was broken during a petty apprentice argument. The barkeep wouldn't hear of it of course. The tavern was pretty quiet for the time of day, Tomas and Clipper finished their feast and scampered back to the Boys' Guild Courtyard where there was as much talk about the Broadside itself as about the competition, at least among the journeymen printers and apprentices using the Boys' tables for their Queensday loafing. At first they were angry that some other town's printer had gotten a job that they should have had. Then one of the apprentices studied the document closely and allowed that it was their type that had been used. He was derided of course, until he pointed out the particular defect in one of the Ms and showed how it appeared in the Tailors Guild newssheet too. Soon the journeymen had identified several other defects and an inking error that only their large press was prone to make occasionally in a large print run. Now the discussion was all about who had printed in their shop and what were they going to do about it. As they got angrier Tomas slipped back inside and told the Master what was happening. He had Tomas and three of the boys run to the Inn for tankards and as the boys arrived back at the tables he came out to settle the unsettled printers. "Well men, I see you have tumbled to our little efforts for the King! Drink Up! We were well paid for this small job. What? Think you that I am too old and senile to remember how to run a press?! Mark my words, bring Schoeffer or Caxton or Manutius himself and I could best them with our presses. We will see more work for the King. Long live the King! Long live the Press!" the Master turned the grumbles into cheers. Once again the gossiping turned to the competition. To be held just prior to high summer during the month of the Waiting Moon it seemed to be perfect to fill the town with rural and village folk. It also gave the prospective participants good time to ready their performances. The rules required three different pieces to be prepared, although the elimination of contestants would be draconian at the start. Every Inn, Public House and Market Square would host the first round, all on the same day. Two contestants would square off and alternate presenting one of their entertainments. The crowd would vote and the winner would advance, half the total contestants would be eliminated in the preliminary round and the remainder would be winnowed down until each location had one contestant to move forwards. During the event there would be multiple passing of the hat and each contestant would take an equal split at the end of the day. Beyond the requirement of King's grade entertainment there was the opportunity to pander to the crowd increasing both the chance of winning and the pay. That the thrup'ny entrance fee would soon be recouped was beyond doubt and still the contestants would not need to find and pay for food and lodging. The second round would occur at the tournament grounds. In four heats three or four participants would go head to head with their second work and the crowds would pick winners. Additional heats could be added if there were many contestants. The final would be held at the King's Hall Dinner. Four finalists would compete, the crowd would choose the winner of two heats, the King would choose the Grand Prize winner from those two. The losers would receive a prize and the bragging rights as a King's Hall minstrel. The winners would receive the best prizes and become the King's and Queen's Official Minstrels, with a court position and all that would convey. The losing semi finalists would perform at the Market Squares that night for those not lucky, or rich, enough to gain entry to the King's Hall. One winner from each Market Square would receive a prize and bragging rights as the Minstrel of that Market. All in all the Inns, the Taverns and the Market Squares were guaranteed three days of jam packed excitement. The tournament grounds would be completely full for the semifinals and the Market Squares again would be overrun at the same time the King's Dinner was occurring in the Castle. The bakers and butchers of the town were beside themselves with joy at the prospect of so much quick food required so often. If possible this was even better than the tournament jousts where Nobles ate and peasants stood and watched for blood. There would be no blood of course, but stretched out across the city and staged in every public place everyone would eat and drink. Inn keepers were already checking with carpenters to see if another inch or two of width could be removed from trestle tables and benches with an eye toward adding more total seating. Tavern owners were urgently entreating brewers to create an ale with great taste which was less filling and less costly. Enterprising potters were working with the best taverns and experimenting with clays that could make a commemorative tankard, one in a robust size that would hold up to repeated filling and some banging and another slightly smaller in a cheap disposable clay easy to make in quantity and good enough for one filling at most yet survive as a souvenir. Tavern keeper and potter would share the profits. The Wizarding Demonstrations looked even more exciting. Not many people had considered the fact that there were more Wizards than the one kept locked by the King in the tower that rained and smoked. But here was the invitation. All Wizards who wished to demonstrate should present themselves on a certain date on a mountaintop known to be far away. There a committee of citizens - was that read right? A Committee of Citizens? Would evaluate their skills and assign them a place and a time during the Competition. Wizards were clearly admonished that no lives were to be lost during their demonstrations and that any transformations had to be reversed immediately at the end. A bond would be required and forfeited if as much as a single frog remained. The audition at such a remote and inaccessible location had several wanna be wizards cursing and fuming that they could have won if given a fair chance. Their wives and families gravely nodded agreement and secretly thanked the cosmos that somethings were impossible. As the Post riders brought the news to every public house and square within the kingdom the already dreamy minds of shepherd boys who could blow a pipe or pluck lyres and scullery boys with copper pots and wooden spoons that they could bang and make a rhythm and farming lads with cat gut instruments and late night nite caterwauling began to churn with verse fragments and melody lines. There was a flowering of poetry both good and bad at dinner tables, in pastures and among the crop rows. Merchants saw a sudden decrease in sales of ha'p'ny candies and other non essential trinkets as dreams of fame and fortune required an initial thrup'ny fee. News travelled like lightening within the walls of Liivka and a second printing of the broadside sheet spread slowly yet inexorably across the lands. Fireday night Tomas felt a small boy crawl into his shelf. It made a crinkly smell at his nose and the skin felt rough but as it only burrowed in for cuddles he didn't let it wake him fully from his sleep. He was exhausted from the printing and distribution of the proclamation. Besides, cuddles were always good whether given or received. As Tomas woke he felt his pee hard lance clasped close about in a warm embrace. His second feel though said it wasn't in another's hole, there was no hot wetness. Something too was tickling at his nose and he couldn't move his head around to make it stop. The moving made him realize that his night visitor was practically melded to his chest laying face to face with him and clasping arms around his own shoulders. He felt it move its hips and there was no rubbing of its lance, in fact it felt as though his own lance was being massaged by perfectly positioned lips. Lips! His head came up and his arms grabbed the shoulders of the boy. What if it wasn't a boy? It felt like a girl and it had his lance inside its slit. What a horrid way to wake up! Tomas shuddered to think that a girl would come into the Boys' Guild Hall and beguile him in his sleep. He shook it to wake it up. Well there was why his nose had a tickle, it had spiky hair running from the forehead all the way back down to the neck and coming back up and over the ears. It mumbled a bit and he shook it again. Its eyes opened with a sleepy film and as it saw Tomas it gave a slight smile of greeting and then the film seemed to open too. "What are you doing in my shelf!" Tomas quietly demanded. It would not be good to wake the others and let them see him bedding with a girl. "Sleeping," the small voice answered. "But why my shelf! Why are you here!" Tomas demanded. "Shhh, don't wake the others," the small voice admonished him with his own previous thought. "Your glimmer said that you were kind," the answer did not actually answer Tomas' to his satisfaction. "This is the Boys' Guild, you should not be here," Tomas said disapprovingly. "Why? I am a boy, I thought it would be a good place." "You are a boy? But you have a slit! Look, my lance is captured in your slit!" Tomas pushed the boy back and they both looked down their bodies. There was just enough light that they could see its shirt rucked up under its armpits and that it wore no other clothes. Tomas breeches were pulled all around and bunched up so that they could only see that he was clothed. Tomas yanked back his hips and it was suddenly obvious that his lance had found a tear within the breeches and it was poking strongly out and pointing directly at the slit that had just been nestling it. "See! You have a slit!" Tomas adamantly confirmed. "Oh that? That is my lance's sheath. It is not a slit," the slitted visitor protested. "You are a girl!" Tomas was firm. "I am not! I am a boy, see!" the visitor laid on his back and reached down and one finger from each hand pressed against its abdomen just above and below the slit and Tomas watched the slit fold open and a long thin lance and three living stones came out. The slit closed back behind them holding them prominently forward. "Well, that is a lance," Tomas was willing to agree. "What type of being are you to hide your lance inside a slit? Mayhaps you are a girl sometimes and a boy betides?" "No, I am a boy all the time, girls smell different and are yucky," the now acknowledged boy declared. "See, I am an Elt. I have the pointy ears too," it held the hair up off the tops of its ears and Tomas could see they did in fact have long thin points both top and bottom. "Well, at least you are a boy. Come on, let's go out before we do wake everyone. They would not be too happy with us then." Tomas slid across the Elt boy and out of the maze doorway. The Elt boy followed being careful also about others who might be sleeping along the floor. "What did you mean my glimmer said I was kind? I did not know I had a glimmer, what is that?" Tomas tumbled out that question and more. "And where did you come from? There are no Elts here, in fact Elts are not real, they are just imaginary." "Yes, my grandpere told stories of people too, but my father said that people were not real, just fairy stories. I'm glad I met you imaginary people boy, think what a story I will be able to tell. That is if I ever find where the Elts live again," he finished with a sad frown. "But your glimmer is very strong, do you not see it? It is all around you, bright red with silver and gold sparkles. That type of glimmer is the kindest," the Elt danced around Tomas checking that the glimmer was all over. "One of the boys inside has a mean glimmer, I was afraid all the people would be like that. I have seen mostly mean or scared glimmers since I was taken," the boy said. "That would be Phylo the Lighterman's Boy, he has to be around sailors and that makes him mean. What do you mean taken?" Tomas asked. "Yes, I was hunting and suddenly I was captured and taken from my home. I just managed to escape last night and didn't know where to go. I found the Guild of Boys and you!" He said happily. "Where do we pee? I need to badly since you made my lance come out." "Come," Tomas took the Elt boy's hand and led him on a race to use the middens. "Ahhhh, that is better," the Elt boy sighed as he stood beside Tomas at the pee hole. Tomas watched as the long thin lance let loose with more waters than Tomas could make in a whole week. He idly wondered if three living stones made more water and how much nectar they would make. Both stomachs took that moment to talk briefly with each other. But Tomas' also cramped and announced he had to expel his waste. He turned and sat at one of the sitting holes and squeezed and voided what he had eaten yesterday. The Elt boy crinkled up his own nose and left the middens. When Tomas came out the Elt boy walked beside him, "I have seen the sailors and the captors seat themselves on the rail and smelled that smell, I did not know that people had to do that. I thought it was just a wild animal need. Do you have to do it often? No wonder that building smells so bad if everyone must do it." "You don't need to push out your waste?" Tomas asked in awe. "No, we only pee, but sometimes we gather the waste from some of the animals. It can disguise many smells and some of it works in the fire," the boy added information. "Do you eat?" Tomas asked. It seemed illogical that it could eat and not expel waste, but a slit on a boy was pretty illogical too. "Of course I eat, or at least I could if there was something to be eaten. Do you know where we can get something?" he turned hopeful eyes at Tomas. "Yes, I have a quarter-penny, but we will ask Cobar first, maybe he has something we can have. Come on!" Tomas started running for the courtyard but when he turned back to look for the Elt he wasn't there. Shaking his head Tomas about had a fit when the Elt was seated at the tables and waiting for him, "Have you asked Cobar yet?" it asked. "How! I just got here, how did you get ahead of me?" Tomas sputtered. "Oh, I don't know, I knew this was where we were going, so I just came here," it answered. "Is that okay? Can I sit here?" "Yes, sit there. No, come with me, let's go ask Cobar," Tomas lead the boy through the wood-yard opening. Inside Cobar was placing new wood on each oven sill and then climbing up on bricks which stuck out along the side and using a long pole to push the wood inside. The heat of the ovens was already making the room very warm and Cobar was wearing just a basic small-cloth tied around his waist and between his legs. He was shiny with the sheen of sweat and his fairly thick and long lance was visible bunched up inside the damp fabric. The sweat wasn't running down his arms or legs because he alternated between feeding the ovens and ducking out into the courtyard to get more wood from the wood-yard pile. The chilly courtyard air would raise the gooseflesh on his glistening body and he would shiver each time he went in or out. "Who's your green friend?" Cobar asked from high on the side of the double ovens. "Green?" Tomas asked and was surprised when he looked at the Elt boy to see that his skin was green. "I didn't see your green skin outside, are all Elt's green?" "Oh, I thought you were being polite. Are all people boys striped or bumpy like you two?" "Striped?" Tomas asked and then looked at himself and saw what he knew to be press ink looked a little bit like he was striped. "Oh, no, this is ink from working on the press and Cobar is bumpy because he gets hot and then cold and then hot and cold again while he works the ovens. I didn't ask before, do you have a name?" "Of course I have a name, I am not an animal. My name is Miglodiandecidua Archright Hymenlaaksaflora." Seeing the confusion on Tomas' face Miglodiandecidua Archright Hymenlaaksaflora giggled and said, "You may call me Mig if it is easier. And you?" "I am Tomas, that is Cobar," Tomas pointed. "I know, you said we would ask Cobar, so maybe that is Cobar although you haven't asked him yet," Mig said. "Oh, yeah, Cobar, is there any second bread? I have a quarter-penny if you need it." Tomas fished a coin out from between the folded scraps of paper in his one pocket. "Yes, there is one loaf, if you get some water I will get the loaf and we can feast as soon as I move this fuel into the fire," Cobar was pushing with his pole and setting the wood deep into the oven. Tomas grabbed the pitcher and ran to fill it and Cobar climbed down from the oven and wrapped his tunic around his shoulders and he and Mig brought the loaf out to the courtyard tables. It was light enough now that the first cock was crowing and Tomas could clearly see the spiky hair on Mig and see he definitely looked green. "What kind of person are you Mig," Cobar asked between bites of bread. "I have seen people colored black and brown and even dark dark red, but I have never seen any green people before." "That is funny, I have never seen any bumpy people before and now your bumps are gone. I wonder will Tomas' stripes fade as it gets lighter too? I am not a people, but I am an Elt, see, I have the pointy ears. And I am a boy!" he pushed his shirt down tighter against his legs because he was not going to have his sheath be talked about and pointed to by everyone all the time. "I thought Elts were make believe," Cobar took a drink to wash down the last of his bread. "Yes, I thought people were make believe too," Mig agreed. "It seems we both have learned something new." "Mig said he was captured and just escaped," Tomas announced and it wouldn't do until Mig had told the story. There wasn't much more to the first part than he had told Tomas. He added how he escaped, "So when the ship came here and they used vines to tie it up I just walked across the vine. No one was watching there, I think they all were worried about small animals coming onto the ship across the flat tree they had put to the shore. They didn't seem to know they had a whole lot of the small animals already down in the dark parts. They need a family of crats, that would take care of those animals real quick." "Will they be looking for you?" Tomas asked. "I do not know. They didn't seem to know what they wanted me for, no one tried to bed me and they didn't lock me up like the other people that they had down in the ship. I just spent my days climbing up the dead trees and swinging from the rough vines. It was fun, but soon it was not very interesting," Mig confided to the boys. "Well, we had better hide you today. If they are looking for you it would be pretty easy to say I did or did not see a green boy running around. Can you stay in Tomas' shelf today? It will be boring, but I promise we will have an idea by tonight," Cobar thought it through. "Yes, I can sleep, one day, two days, it does not matter. I can slow my heart down and not even notice the time. I will just need some water when I wake up," Mig told them. "Okay, we can do that. Tomas, it is Waterday, when you go to launder the rags come get me and I will take the aprons too. We can try to find Zekial, he will know what we should do," Cobar concluded. "Yes, I will think of Zekial all day, sometimes he says he can tell when I am thinking of him." "Good idea, I must get back to the ovens and Tomas must get the print shop ready. Sleep well Mig, we will have it sorted out soon," Cobar took his tunic off and headed back to his ovens. Tomas made sure Mig knew which shelf, he needn't have worried, Mig said he could find it by Tomas' scent although he didn't know who the other scent belonged to, it wasn't Cobar. Tomas ran on into the print shop. It was a long long day for Tomas. Little did he know he was making it almost interminable for Zekial by trying to remember to think of him every few minutes. Zekial himself had not known how intertwined the two of them had become, he just thought occasionally he could sense Tomas. This day there was nothing occasional about it. It seemed that Tomas was almost standing right beside him and screaming his name every few minutes. It got so bad he made several mistakes and the Wizard grumbled about boys who needed to spew their nectar having nothing else on their minds. When the day finally finished for the Wizard it was long past nightfall and Zekial hurried to the Boys' Guild Hall and slid into Tomas shelf. "What in the devil were you deviling me all day for, Devil? What a minute, who is this you are sharing your shelf with? An Elt! Where did you find an Elt!" There was some grumbling from other shelves about there being too much noise. Tomas poked Mig in the ribs and pushed Zekial out of the shelf and hissed that they needed to get outside before they took a hiding from the others who were trying to sleep. Tomas left the two boys huddled and glowering at each other and ran through into the bakery and dragged Cobar from his sleep. Grabbing Cobar's tunic Tomas tossed it over Mig's shoulders and bade him stick his arms through the sleeves. It would disguise a little of the green for anyone just passing by, but if someone came and joined them at the table he was not sure what they should do. "Zekial, this is Mig. He escaped from slavers today. We don't know how to hide him if they are looking for him. We don't know what to do?" Tomas blurted out. Cobar added, "We knew you would know what to do." "What to do? How would I know what to do? Tomas, you didn't ...?" Zekial asked and Tomas just knew he meant make radiant orechasm. "No way!" Tomas saw Mig's eyebrows raise, "I mean of course not, we haven't had time. I mean we didn't have a chance yet. I mean, No! We have been worried about hiding him and that is all we were thinking of!" Tomas could see that neither boy was really happy with his stumbling answer. "Okay you two, stop it. Poor Tomas has been worried all day that Mig would be re-captured. Isn't it illegal to have slaves or be a slaver?" Cobar tried to defuse and redirect the boys. "Well, yes, by order of the King all slaves were freed over a hundredfold Wintermoons ago and anyone caught in the slave trade had their life forfeited. Did anyone come around asking about a missing Elt?" Zekial began considering their problem. "No, not that any one heard about. I asked all the boys if they heard about anything wildly unusual today and all I got was about the Cooper and the Arkwright trading wives for the month. Seems the women had been complaining that one always smelled like oak and the other like walnut, so they decided to give them a change. I hear the women are quite happy with the arrangement." Tomas told the others. "Okay, well maybe the slavers are not going to make a fuss. We need to find out if the ship is still in the port and then see if we can find out if anyone came and stayed ashore. I would think an imaginary Elt in the flesh would be a rarity and some people might pay a lot to have one. Did they say where they were taking you?" Zekial asked Mig. "I am not imaginary!" Mig protested. "No, no, I know, you are real and I can see you. But many people think that Elt's are just imaginary children's tales," Zekial mollified. "Yes, okay, I understand. Yes, a real live imaginary people person would be excitement at my home too. No, they never really talked about anything except which of the women they were going to use that day and if the weather was going to stay fair," Mig thought about his time on board the ship. "How long ago were you captured?" Cobar asked. "Many moons, it was Shivering Moon just before Monkey Breath. I was locked in a room for a long time, the weather changed and it became high summer. They let me loose from the fetid room and I could be out and in the dead trees and vines. I think I was outside for two moons, it is hard to keep track when you have no one to talk with," Mig said sadly. "So it could have been almost three hundreddays, unless your land is under the terminator. Then winter and summer are reversed and it might have only been about two moons," Zekial mused. The other boys had never heard of the terminator or being under it and couldn't understand winter reversing with summer, but Zekial was a Wizard's boy, so you didn't challenge him on things like that. "Well, the best thing would be to take you to the Wizard," Zekial decided. Seeing Mig tense he tried to reassure him, "He is a good man, I am his boy. He will not hurt you and you will probably be allowed to stay in the tower for now. It is better than staying all the time in a little shelf. He will know how we can help you either return home or find some other way to live." Tomas launched himself at Zekial and was hugging and covering him with little kisses. "I knew you would have a good plan. The Wizard is a perfect answer. Come Mig, give me hug." "If the Wizard's glimmer is not good I will run away," Mig said. "I do not want to be around mean and bad people, or mean and bad Elts either." "Fair enough," Zekial agreed. "I guess my glimmer is okay then?" "Yes, yours is both kind and cautious. You are also the other scent in Tomas' shelf, so I knew he thought you good too," Mig answered. "Okay," Zekial got up and pushed Tomas back down on a bench. "Let's go now under the darkness cover and see if the Wizard will talk to you. I may come back Tomas, I have not been able to get time before." Tomas jumped up and grabbed Zekial, "No, I am coming too. I won't be able to sleep if I don't know Mig will be safe." "Okay, but the Wizard may not let any of us in," Zekial said. "Then it is best I am there to help make our next plan too," Tomas decided.