Iris comes to the mystical ping pong bar Bubbles seeking answers from the Sorcerer of Midtown and his partner the oracular celestial dragon Rain.
Episode 5: Bubbles
Seeking guidance regarding a missing soul, Iris visits the mystical ping-pong bar Bubbles. Its owner, Ty Kemble, known as the Sorcerer of Midtown, arranges a meeting between Iris and the oracular dragon Feng He'Yu -- "Rain" to her friends.
Noting that Iris is missing some crucial memories, Ty and bar manager Mallory Pruett (Iris's former neighbor and James's high school classmate) offer the use of a truth-revealing enchanted bar mirror to help Iris recover what's been lost.
After Iris retreats into her soulscape, Rigan finds herself in Iris's place in the physical world and reconnecting with Ty, with whom she has a long, sad history.
__________
Written by Steve and Robin Pool
Voiced by Emily Woo Zeller, with Freya Kingsley as Rigan
Sound Design and Editing by DSS (Dissecting Sound & Soul). Sound effects provided by ZapSplat
Intro song “Plastic Stars” by Corey Distler https://soundcloud.com/deadmentalkingpdx
Outro song “Sun Beam” by Andrew Yeghiazarian https://labijapdx.com/
Visit Sayonaraville on our website, Twitter, Facebook, and Instagram.
Copyright (c) 2022 by Uncle Robot Media, LLC
SAYONARAVILLE MANHATTAN
EPISODE 5: BUBBLES
INTRO: The following series contains adult themes, strong language, violence, sexuality, and drug use. Listener discretion is advised.
[INTRO MUSIC:"Plastic Stars" by Corey Distler]
Iris stood, confused, on a busy street corner not far from Times Square. Was this the right place? It was supposed to be. She thought she’d seen it, but now, looking around, there was nothing. The emailed directions had included some sparkly shit reassurance that she’d have no trouble finding Bubbles if, in her heart of hearts, she really wanted to. What the hell kind of directions were those?
“Dammit!” Iris muttered nervously. Her eyes darted back and forth until she forced them to still. “Where the hell is it?”
Rigan, heard but not seen, answered, “Close your eyes, take a breath, open them again, and look left.”
Iris complied and then saw a swanky, cheery-looking facade, practically appearing out of thin air, the name Bubbles outlined in white and gold neon, accented by a suitably round flourish on the last “s”. “Oh, wow,” slipped from Iris’s lips.
“Thanks.” At the entrance stood a handsome, well-dressed man of indeterminate early-middle age.
Dammit. Blushing, Iris answered, “I meant the bar.” That hadn’t come out the way she’d meant, but years of bad experiences with less-than-honorable men made her wary.
“Oh,” he replied, then smiled. “Well, thank you for at least admiring my place. You must be Iris.” Ty, the Sorcerer of Midtown, checked his watch. “You’re a little early, but that’s cool. C’mon in. Let’s grab a drink before you go and visit with Feng.”
Now, Iris didn’t feel at all sure about going through with this. An urge to turn around and go straight home and hide under her bed rose in her thoughts. But she recalled Rigan’s look of shame, a shame they both shared, and their conversation about the missing soul following the coffee shop incident. Iris had to do this. Steeling herself, she marched inside. “Sure. Sounds good.”
Gazing at the exquisitely-decorated bar, rich with dark woods and velvety drapes, walls covered in pricey abstract art, and tables filled with high net-worth clients waited on by beautiful people servers, Iris couldn’t help but be impressed. There was no arguing that Ty ran a slick outfit. But most impressive of all...
“Oh, shit! Ping-pong tables!” Iris started counting. “Look at that! One, two, three, four, five...a bakers’ dozen. Is that normal for a sorcerer’s lair?”
Ty, ushering her forward, answered, “Um, it’s not really a lair. But since I perform all of my mystical work in my office and lab and library in the back, why not let the front be a fun space? Hence, ‘Bubbles’,” he added, raising his hands in a ‘taa-dah’ gesture, “is a ping-pong bar. Get it? The name’s a play on..."
Iris was already leaning over the large oaken bar. Slapping its top, she called, “Mojito, please...No, wait, make that two mojitos. These are on your boss, by the way.” She grinned and pointed back towards Ty. The bartender hesitated until Ty nodded. “Oh,” she added, grasping both drinks. “I think he wants something, too.”
As they sat down at a table towards the back, Iris asked, “So how exactly does this work? Do I stand in front of the oracle as she huffs in some weird gas and makes pronouncements about me, like in the...”
“I was hoping we could discuss the terms for payment.”
“Oh, right.” Iris reached into her handbag and pulled out her wallet. “Actually, I was wondering if we could do barter, rather than give you my credit card." Before Iris had come, Rigan had suggested trading instead of paying.
Ty looked intrigued. “Oh? What did you have in mind?”
“Well, I was thinking that maybe I could give you some of my mana. I imagine that you are always looking for new sources.”
Impassively, Ty asked, “Why would you think that?”
Iris could hear Rigan’s hushed voice in reply. “Don’t tell him it was me who told you.” Ty’s head tilted a bit at that though Iris was pretty sure that no one else could see or hear Rigan.
“It’s clear this place is heavily magicked. I couldn’t even find the front door at first.”
“On that point, you’re not wrong.” Ty sipped his drink.
“Would paying with mana be acceptable? I hope so, because I, uh, don’t want to leave a money trail for this reading.”
He looked her over for a long moment before he smiled. “Sure. I’m interested. You’re not the first to offer something other than money. Though, normally, I’d say ‘no’ to someone offering me a bit of their magic. Most people barely have enough to keep themselves alive. But you have an impressively bright resting-rate aura. I can’t imagine what it must be like when you’re agitated or upset.”
Iris frowned. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
Ty held up his hands in a gesture of peace. “It’s not meant as anything disparaging. All I’m saying is that you appear to have a great talent for marshaling magic. Being able to collect some of yours is easily worth the twenty-five grand I would have charged you otherwise.”
“Twenty-five grand!? Isn’t that a lot for...?”
“Speaking for an hour with one who sees the threads of fate? Some might think I’m not charging enough.”
“Okay. Not for me to say. So how do we do this? How do I pay you in magic?”
“Actually, it’s quite easy.” He pointed to one of the ping-pong tables. “Give me a couple of hours there on Table 8 and I’ll consider you paid up.”
Iris eyed the table suspiciously. A small group gathered around a couple that were really going at it. “Are those people...giving you their magic?”
“They...are getting at the moment.”
“So, your table is like...a mana bank?”
“Tables, but yes, something like that.” Taking another sip, Ty continued, “So, Iris, what are you going to ask Rain?”
Iris looked at the table again, then at Ty. “I gotta be honest. I’ve never played ping-pong before.”
“You’ll be fine. You seem to me more than capable of learning. I can have one of my staff members coach you for a bit if you like.”
“Yes. Also...” Iris swirled one of her two empty glasses. “I’m going to need more alcohol.”
Iris coughed, nearly spitting up her drink when a familiar face approached. Mallory Pruett, a classmate of her old neighbor and former boyfriend, James -- thirty years ago, give or take -- brought two paddles and a tray of ping pong balls. Mallory was older, grayer, thinner, and wearier, but Iris knew her instantly by her scent.
“Hi, Iris! Long time no see. How are you?”
Damn. Mallory did recognize her. Iris quickly ran through all the excuses she could think of to account for the fact that, at 47, she still looked 25 and glumly dismissed them as sounding stupid or crazy.
“Oh, uh, hello! It’s nice to meet you..."
“Iris,” Mallory said in a reassuring voice, “we both know each other. You don’t have to pretend. I know you look younger than you should, but that’s fine. I’ve seen enough incredible things working for Ty over the years that I have largely given up my skepticism.”
Iris, looking instantly relieved, accepted the hug offered by Mallory. “Oh my god, I’m so glad to hear you say that.” Embracing Mallory, she started to tear up.
“What’s wrong, Iris? Are you okay?”
Iris wiped her eyes. “Yes, sorry. I...I went away for a while, 20 years to be precise, and when I got back, everyone I had known growing up was...gone. My parents passed away 10 years ago, and all of my old, supposed friends had moved on. I don’t know where anyone went. Except, now, you. I guess that’s been weighing on me more than I thought.”
“I’m so sorry to hear that. Must have been hard. I’ve been lucky, I guess. My family’s all still alive and well.” Mallory paused, a pained look flashing across her face. “So when you said you haven’t seen anyone from before...does that include your neighbor, James Ward?”
Iris managed not to flinch, but she felt a swell of emotion when she heard that name and, for the briefest moment, smelled burning hair and clothes mixed with charred flesh. “No...not since...high school.”
Mallory’s smile and her voice dropped. “He’s why I’m here. At Bubbles. He did something to me while we were high school students. He...hurt me. I’d been accepted into Princeton but, because of what he’d done, I couldn’t go. I almost died.”
Iris didn’t have to wonder what that was -- she could still remember his soul-sucking bite, how it had killed him when he’d tried it on her -- but she said nothing. Poor Mallory.
“Ty saved me. He let me work here while I healed. Of course, I blamed myself for what had happened between James and me and often wondered what I’d done to catch his eye and his abuse. Worse, I’d become afraid of standing out, drawing the attention of others who might hurt me. I didn’t trust myself or other people. It took ten years to get better, but I found I didn’t want to leave. I’d really come to love being a part of this strange, weird, wonderful place. I’d applied myself, learned some magic. Not like him, but, you know, I got pretty good with certain stuff, mostly to help run the bar better and keep it cleaner. Nothing that would ever get me a tv show or on stage in Atlantic City. All these years later, I manage his bar. I was going to be a doctor, but now I wonder why I ever thought that. Coming here has been a real blessing, and I can’t imagine being anywhere else.” Her smile was back. “Hey, enough of that.” Mallory handed Iris a paddle and a couple of ping-pong balls. “Let’s get to your lesson, Iris.”
The ball was easy enough to track and reach as it bounced towards her. But it was so damn light! She’d overhit it almost every time, sending it careening towards the darker corners of the bar, other players and patrons ducking out of the way. Iris would smile and laugh, and Mallory would smile and laugh, too. But, inside, Iris had grown more nervous and doubtful, the feral part of her beginning to stir out of her frustration.
Before Iris had felt ready, Mallory had handed her over to a group of players. With each round, she’d drawn more bystanders to watch. Once she’d finally gotten the hang of it and tossed her boots aside, she’d improved quickly. Even consuming enough alcohol to make most women her size blackout drunk hadn’t held her back.
On a dare, she’d started playing two matches simultaneously on Tables 8 and 9, pushed side-by-side. With a paddle in each hand, she’d punished all comers. She didn’t even need to cheat using cheap, back-alley sorcery. No one could keep up, not even top league players. After each match was won, a round of cheers and drinks went out. She’d call for someone to pour hers, sometimes straight from the bottle, into her mouth.
Iris’s eyes blazed as she took in the entirety of the stressed opponents struggling to keep up with her brutal play: damp hairlines and sweat-glistened foreheads; roaming irises and pupils; flaring nostrils; constricting throats; heaving chests; fidgeting arms and stamping feet; throbbing veins; tiring muscles and aching tendons wracked with fatigue poisons. She could do this all night, but they clearly couldn’t.
After two hours of play, Ty signaled her to return to where he sat. Energized but also more than ready for what was coming next, Iris left her saddened but also relieved entourage and plopped down in the dark oak booth. A wormy smile hung on her face as she wiped her brow. “Whew! What a workout. That was fun.”
Ty smiled. “Hungry?”
That wasn’t the answer she was hoping for. “Actually...yes. But I was hoping to see the oracle first.”
“You will soon enough.” Ty handed her a menu. “You were really good for business tonight. So, in addition to seeing the oracle, I figured I also owed you a meal. I must have you back to play with my customers again.”
The wagyu beef burger smelled incredible, and the zinfandel struck all the right spicy, fruity hints. Iris hadn’t paid for a decent dinner in a long time, but she imagined that this meal must cost a lot. Her need for propriety and her need to protect the treasure before her warred inside, and she only just managed to eat with any degree of civility. It took a lot of self control to not lick the plate clean once the food was gone.
Once their dishes had been removed, Ty asked, “So, before we get to your reading, I’d like to know what your real ask is? People don’t ask for their readings to be off the book -- no record of payment -- unless there’s something that they don’t want others to know about.”
“Yeah. That. Okay. Okay. It’s just...” Iris’s words trailed off.
“I won’t be able to help you unless you tell me directly.”
“Sorry. You seem like a good guy and Mallory really thinks a lot of you. My friend who recommended you does, too. It’s just. Well, I have trust issues. It’s not your fault. But now that I find myself getting ready to ask for...a really hard thing, I’m getting cold feet. I just don’t know you well enough to be sure that you are the right person to tell.”
A sad expression settled on Ty. “So you really don’t remember us.” He said it as a statement, not a question.
Confused, Iris replied, “...No. Should I?”
Ty looked up, considering how he wanted to reply, before answering. “About 23 years ago, before the Apocalypse hit, you came to me, very pregnant and very scared. You hadn’t been home in months because you were afraid of your husband Arawn finding out about the baby.”
“Bullshit. I’ve never been pregnant in my life.”
“Believe it or not, I’m telling you the truth. You were going to have Arawn’s child, but you knew about the curse that had been placed on him and all of his hounds, that none of their offspring would ever reach adulthood. So you sought me out, hoping I could somehow break the curse. I tried. I really did. I thought maybe I could do it. But...,” Ty looked down at that moment. “I’m ashamed to say that I couldn’t.”
Iris absently grasped for her glass and knocked it over.
“I’ve got it. Don’t worry.” As Ty waved his hand, the spilled liquid and ice evaporated.
“I...,” Iris could feel a cold anger growing inside of her. “I don’t believe you.”
“Mallory can back me up. I asked her not to say anything about your prior visit here, but she can attest to it, too.”
A swell of anxious, fearful emotions roiled through Iris. She began to tear up, her hands gripping the table. “No. No. Why are you saying that? Why are you lying?”
Hesitantly, Ty said, “I...could show you. If you wanted.”
“Yes! Fine!” Iris didn’t know why she’d said that. What was she doing? Why would she want to see something so horrible? If it were true? Hadn’t she suffered enough already? But now that she’d said it, she felt compelled to follow it all the way.
For over a century, Ty had combined a huge portion of his magic with his vast engineering knowledge to construct the worldwide surveillance network Shieldmaiden that far surpassed anything humans had yet to create.
It integrated with one of his greatest tools, Orna, his ten-foot bar mirror that contained a sliver of another of his earlier creations, the great, god-forged truth sword of the same name, sometimes called the Revealer of Secrets. Just like the sword, the mirror could reveal the truth to anyone who gazed into it.
Once the crowd had thinned out a bit, Ty sat Iris at the bar, front and center to the mirror. Mallory sat beside her, just in case Iris needed pulling out of whatever came next.
“I didn’t want this for today,” Ty said. “I just want you to know that. I wanted you to come here, have a few drinks and laughs, catch up on old times with Mal and me, get your reading, and head home more at peace then when you came in.”
Mallory grabbed Iris’s hand. “Are you sure you want to do this?”
Iris wordlessly nodded.
It was shocking for present Iris to see Arawn again. She found herself as a bystander in a moment long gone.
She’d forgotten so much, but now that her eyes fell upon him, she recalled every feature and line and curve. Every color and every scar. Every scent and every sound. Tall, broad-shouldered, with dark hair that draped down to the nape of his neck. His eyes were like stormy skies, and his face was strong and straight, all perfect angles, without a hint of arrogance or malice or weakness. She remembered how much she had worshiped him, loved him, cherished him. No one had ever broken her heart like he had.
Arawn and Iris are fighting. They have been fighting a lot lately.
“No.” His voice is unwavering, hard. Sentimentality had never been one of his strengths.
Iris saw herself seethe.
Her old self is not having this. “Don’t just tell me no again. You always say that, and it always infuriates me. This is important to me, so don’t just blow me off. I think I deserve a straight answer from you."
“I cannot have children, Iris. I’ve told you this before. There’s nothing more to discuss.”
“Can’t...or won’t? That’s bullshit, you telling me that you can’t. I know it’s not true. You know how I know? Because I know that Marvin and Eve had children.”
“Did you learn that from her?” His voice hardens around those words.
Nervously, reluctantly, Iris replies, “...Yes. She told me.”
Arawn shakes his head. “Unbelievable.” His gray-blue eyes are almost glowing. “And did Beibhinn tell you where her children are now?”
“...No.”
Behind his irritation, Iris knows that he is hurting, that this conversation hurts him, and she regrets having it, again. But dammit, she doesn’t want to regret it. She needs to know. She needs to know why they can’t start a family together. Why, as long as she stays with him, she will never be a mother.
“Ask her, then.” Arawn says. “Make Eve tell you what really happened to her two children...”
...Eve looks away as she answers Iris’s question. “We were never gods, let alone heroes. What we were...what we are...are broken exiles fled from our beloved land, our frightened people, our heartless queen, and our cursed fate. Even though we had won our war against the Fomorians, all of us who had fought them lost, as well. The demon magic we had willingly ingested to stand against them had corrupted us too much. By the end, we could no longer even be allowed to live in Otherworld....”
She pauses again, while Iris waits. “It wasn’t until we found refuge here, on Earth, and started marrying each other...and having children...that we really came to understand the depths of that corruption...and also of the curse that Queen Danu had been placed upon us, to keep us from growing in number.”
When she looks around, tears fill up the corners of her eyes. “Marvanus and I had twins. A handsome, brave boy Eirell and a beautiful, divine girl Eilia, two of the holiest angels that this sad, unworthy world will ever know.
“Eilia passed first. The last year of her life was pure hell. She had wasted away to practically nothing, despite everything that Marvanus and I had tried to do for her. But through all of that, her eyes had never once lost their joy, up until her very last day.
“Eirell was stronger and had managed to keep his vitality while his sister was alive. But once she was gone, he quickly faded, too...and died soon after.”
Eve begins to sob and laugh at the same time. “Actually, I’m kind of ashamed to admit it, Iris, but that was so long ago, I sometimes have trouble remembering what their faces looked like. How sad is that? What kind of mother forgets the faces of her own children?”
Iris is also crying. This helps her understand why Arawn is so unwilling to even consider having a child. Standing silently next to Eve, troubled, lost in thought, Iris touches her belly as she looks out towards the vast, rolling sea...
...Standing under a tall oak, with a hand on her swollen belly, Iris smiles and asks, “How’s this?”
A man just out of view replies, “Perfect. Hold that pose for a moment.” A camera shutter snaps. “Beautiful. Love it, beautiful mother-to-be.”
Iris speaks to her unborn child. “Hear that...?” She says a name that she’s already forgotten. “Mommy’s going to have a beautiful photo album made of you and me. Isn’t that great?”
She continues to smile as she poses for more photos, but inside, her heart aches. She misses Arawn terribly, and she worries about him. But she can’t be with him right now. He can’t know where she, or their baby, is. He’d try to do something that she’s certain she’d never allow...
Iris, baby-swollen and weary, lets herself be led by Mallory to a table in the back of Bubbles. She gives Iris a glass of sparkling water and a bowl of peanuts. Ty arrives soon afterwards.
Sighing and also weary, but smiling, he places a thick stack of rune-covered cloth strips on the table. “I cannot tell you how many Tuathan scrolls and tomes I’ve read in the past two weeks, just trying to get a handle on their magic. But I think I’ve cracked it. These strips, infused with glyphs and wards, will be placed all over your body, from head to toe, once you go into labor. I’ll be chanting the whole time, powering them as much as I can. If my preparations and magic are strong enough, they should be able to shield Amelie and you from Queen Danu’s curse.”
Iris looks hopeful. “Do you think so?”
“I want to think so. I have a room prepared in the back for when it’s time. An obstetrician friend and hobbyist sorcerer will be attending, just to help you through and make sure no run-of-the-mill medical issues come up.”
Iris grabs Ty’s hand. “I. I don’t know what to say. You’ve been so very kind to me. Everyone here has. Once I have Amelie, I’ll pack up our things and get out of your hair.”
“No. No. You should stay as long as you want. You’re not in anyone’s hair here.”
“No offense, Ty, but a bar really isn’t the place for a newborn.”
In a hospital bed in a room far back in the dimensionally stretched Bubbles, Iris sits up alone, completely exhausted but unable to rest without news of the baby. Crying, eyes red. Her hands shake, partly from the hardship of labor and partly from worry and grief.
“Fuckfuckfuck,” Iris mutters to herself. She wrings her hands and prays to whomever is willing to spare her poor little girl even a shred of grace. A scrap of mercy. Whatever it would take, whatever she’d have to sacrifice to give her newborn angel more life and time, Iris would gladly give it up.
Ty’s friend the doctor eventually enters, with Ty and Mallory behind. All look heartbroken.
Iris cried out as she fell backwards off the barstool, breaking contact with the mirror. In the now empty bar, Mallory crouched down to help her up, help her be steady, help somehow. Anything to ease Iris’s anguish. Ty looked on, troubled by new worries.
Later, after Mallory had led Iris back to one of the guest rooms in the living suite, Ty sat alone in front of Orna. Every few seconds, he flipped from feeling sad to feeling angry to feeling guilty to feeling relieved, back to feeling sad. Iris had a right to know. Revealing the truth had absolutely been the right thing to do. Except that he felt like a total asshole for doing it. Because maybe it hadn’t been the right thing. Even if she’d said it was. What the hell would Rain say about this? Prescience sometimes really sucked.
Feet tapped on the stairs. Someone was descending. Ty turned to look.
“Iris?”
Her face in shadow, at first Ty couldn’t tell. “No, Love. It’s me.”
“Eire? I was wondering if I’d get to see you this time.”
“Sadly, you may see a lot of me for a while. Iris retreated into the soulscape, locking me out and leaving me in charge of her body.”
“What happened?”
Rigan sat down on a stool. She looked very sad. “Oh, I imagine you can guess. Iris asked me if I’d known. I said I had. I mean, I can’t lie to her. She then demanded to know if I knew where Amelie’s soul was. I guess she was thinking that maybe the poor child had been absorbed into us. I said that, regrettably, I hadn’t ever sensed her in the soulscape. She accused me of keeping secrets. Which I had. Then she asked if I had kept anything else from her. I didn’t know what to say, so she pulled into herself and slammed her mind shut. I found myself looking through her eyes, wondering what to do next. So I came down here looking for you, hoping you’d get me drunk.”
Ty reached over the bar, pulled out a bottle of Grey Goose, and placed it in front of the goddess of war. “This do?”
“Yes, very much. Thank you.”
“Need a glass?”
Rigan had already unscrewed the cap and tipped back the bottle.
Ty shook his head. “Nevermind.” After grabbing a second bottle for himself, he asked, “Eire?” Fire burned down his throat as he swallowed.
“Yes, my love?”
“Gods, I have so many questions that I don’t know where to begin.”
“Maybe if you started with just one.”
“Okay. Good idea.” Ty thought for a minute, then asked, “Here’s one. Actually, two. Why can’t Iris remember me or coming here and losing her baby? And did you also forget about Amelie?”
Rigan thought about it for a minute before answering. “If I were to guess, I’d say that something had happened to many of her memories and even her personality after she’d been reset..."
“Reset?”
“Yes, I don’t know how else to describe it. Following her let’s-call-it-resurrection, it took six months just to remember that she was human and not some beast. She didn’t seem to recognize Ashley or me.”
Ty gasped. “Gods...so she actually did die? Did the two of you...the whole lot of you actually die, then?"
“Well, I was already dead. As were all the resident souls. You know that I haven’t had a physical form of my own for a good many centuries now. As for Iris? I don’t really know. Many things about her I don’t understand. She’s got some kind of special thing going on with the Sea of Creation, but I don’t know how that works. All I can say is she wasn’t conscious during those missing 20 years. Dead or asleep or in some kind of coma, I can’t say. Since I was stuck in her soulscape, I don’t know what happened to her body during that time. I’ve asked her about it, and she says she doesn’t know either. So many mysteries.”
Sad-eyed, Rigan placed her hand over Ty’s and stroked it gently. “I’ve missed you terribly, Tethra.”
Ty started to pull away but stopped. “I miss you, too. I miss being married to you.”
“I’d still like to think that we are.”
“I’d like to, too, but is that accurate, all things considered?” Ty grabbed his bottle and pulled a long drink.
Pain flashed in Rigan’s expression, but it was gone in an instant. She pulled her hand back and straightened in her seat.
Ty retracted his hand, too, and said, ”Okay, here’s another question, Eire. Do you think Amelie’s death had anything to do with the Apocalypse?”
“Where did that come from? I hadn’t ever considered that before. What are you on about, you sleuthing man?”
“It’s the timing that bothers me. When I watched the replay of the events, I noticed that the time of Amelie’s stillbirth corresponded very closely to the sudden eruption of Mount Hood in Oregon, which we now recognize was the first sign of the Apocalypse. And, no, before you ask, considering what we do actually know about Iris, I can’t accept that this is all just an unfortunate coincidence.”
Rigan looked shocked. “So what are you saying, Teth? That you think Iris might have actually...triggered it?”
“I don’t think we can discount that.”
“This sounds like a question we should pose to your dragon friend.”
“I agree. In the meantime, when Iris comes out, back, whatever it is she returns from, maybe we shouldn’t mention it just yet.”
“Love! She’s already hurt and mad at us for keeping things from her. How do you think she’s going to respond if we start hiding more?”
“Do you believe she’s strong enough to accept that she may have, in a moment of profound grief, almost accidentally ended the world? What will she do if she learns that?”
Rigan responded defensively. “We don’t know that’s what happened.”
“Exactly. That’s why we shouldn’t mention it. Yet. Until we know more.”
Slowly, Rigan nodded. “Alright. I see your point. For now. But Iris deserves to know what’s going on.” Rigan’s eyes narrowed. “You’re not going to tell your Merlin friend, whatshisname, Baltimore, are you?”
“Hells, no. I don’t want to have Avalon pushing down on Iris or crawling all over my bar over a theoretical question that I haven’t had time to think about let alone research. Can we shelve this discussion for now, just between you and me? We still have to do the reading with Rain.”
“What if Iris isn’t back for it?”
“Well, then you will have to meet with her.”
“Oh, no. No offense, but Rain is batshit crazy. I try to spend as little time with her as possible.”
“Do you want to see if you can summon another soul, like Ashley Chen, instead? See if she’s willing to do it?”
“I don’t know that I could call her up right now, me being locked out and all at the moment. And if I did, I couldn’t guarantee that Ash wouldn’t try to exorcize the dragon. She was pretty religious -- you know, the one centered on that Hebrew deity, Jesus -- back when she was alive.”
“Great. Then I’ll have Rain meet with you at 11. Assuming Iris isn’t back by then. Oh, one more thing.”
Rigan sighed. “Yes, dear?”
“Iris never told me what she’d hoped to learn from Rain. The way she asked, I think she wanted to know two things. Since she’d more than paid with the mana she’d generated at my table, I thought it was more than fair to give it to her. Do you know what those would be?”
Rigan laughed. “Actually I do. The first involves a missing soul. For the second...you wouldn’t happen to know how to get to Brooklyn?”
After Rigan had gone back upstairs, Ty retreated to his office. He’d meant to sleep a bit before morning broke with the buzz of activity with a new day’s customers, but he, instead, succumbed to the lure of his office and his computers.
“Shieldmaiden?”
An efficient, chipper alto voice answered. “Yes, boss.”
“I need you to run a linear regression analysis on any and all reported interdimensional fissure incidents occurring within a 50 mile radius of the Cascade Volcanic Arc, latitude 45 degrees, 32 minutes, 16 seconds North and longitude 121 degrees, 34 minutes, 6 seconds West over the five days leading up to and after Mar 21st, 2014. Include details of fissure length, width, depth, temperature, pressure, visibility, color, and emission readings. Make sure you count the ones that have since closed and not just those that have persisted. Let’s try experimenting with middle range K values to ensure a smooth decision boundary while minimizing the effect of bias or data variance.”
“Roger that,” the disembodied voice replied. “But why the interest in dimensional ruptures in the area surrounding Mount Hood on the date of its last eruption? Do you think they might be related? Your choice of date and location variables seem to imply that.”
“I don’t know yet. Such things are theoretically possible, though no one has ever proven it scientifically.”
“Can I assume this has something to do with Iris Penner, as well? Your data analysis request following her visit to the bar and your subsequent discussion of the unfortunate loss of her child on the very same day as the eruption, though separated by 2,862 driving miles, leads me to conclude that you believe that there could be a possible correlation between these two events and that they are not just coincidental. Shall I also start a search for any records of Iris Penner ever having visited Mount Hood or of having some connection to the mountain or nearby city of Portland?”
“If you would. One more thing, Ess. What do we know about possible routes, confirmed or just rumored, into Brooklyn? Could you work up a list, ranked in order of preparation time and estimated odds of successful passage? And, in case you’re wondering, I’m asking you and not Rain about this because I don’t want her to know I’m looking into it.”
“Keeping secrets from an oracle. You’re funny. So, for the passage...legal or illegal? Because if the route needs to be legal, the answer is easy. There is none.”
“You know what I mean.”
Shieldmaiden paused uncharacteristically. “You aren’t intending on going there, are you, boss? I cannot stress how dangerous and irresponsible and reckless something like that...”
“You don’t have to say it, Ess. I know the risks.”
[OUTRO SONG: "Sun Beam" by Andrew Yeghiazarian]
Sitting in the backseat of his Mercedes, engine purring, heater running, Chopin playlist streaming, coffee thermos at the ready, John Baltimore, the latest incarnation of the Merlin and the top man at Avalon, wove spells into his tablet computer in preparation for breaking open what would doubtless be some very strong warding seals on an object of some importance, recently unearthed in a cemetery located in coastal Massachusetts. On the seat next to him, various ancient scrolls, some on the ragged edge of disintegration, lay open, covering his laptop, which had gone to sleep some time ago after having run translation programs on other, even more obscure incantations.
Just before one-in-the-morning, John’s phone began to vibrate. Looking at the Caller-ID, he thought about ignoring it -- the call being about a very ugly matter with potential international incident implications that he’d been avoiding all day. Reluctantly, he answered.
“Yes?”
“....”
“Right," John replied.
He closed his eyes as he continued. “No...Camie has already told him several times now that she will take his daughter on as a squire. I don’t understand what the problem is.”
“....”
“Well, I don’t take apprentices anymore. I don’t even have time enough to properly address the endless daily shit that places the world at risk of falling off a cliff, metaphorical or otherwise. There’s no way I can ignore my duties just to instruct an obviously indulged teenager in the..."
“....”
“I don’t care if he is the President of...no, uh-uh. I can’t do it. You know, he doesn’t realize how lucky he is that Camie is even willing to consider..."
“....”
“No. Listen, I..."
“No."
“No!"
“I don’t...Stop talking and listen!”
John took a deep breath and centered himself.
“This is what I want you to tell him, word-for-word: ‘Camille Whitlock, Sir Gawain, one of Merlin Baltimore’s most trusted and dependable eldritch knights, has agreed to teach your daughter the basics of combat magic and take her on as a squire. Your daughter isn’t going to get a better offer, literally. One, because there is no better offer. Even if the Merlin could apprentice your daughter and help prepare her for the entrance exams to the Sorceric Academy to become an Eldritch Knight of Avalon, he wouldn’t do it because Camille is a far better teacher. And two, if you still can’t accept the Merlin's decision, then your daughter will just have to settle for becoming a normal, non-magical, spoiled princess who will only ever get to serve the Round Table in her fantasies.’
“‘If you insist on continuing to harass the Merlin about this, there’s no telling what kinds of weird bullshit things might start happening around you, especially with your upcoming re-election campaign. Cursing the Merlin, even in one’s heart, has been known to rebound. That’s not a threat. It’s advice.’ Can you tell him that? Will you say that to him?”
“....”
“Good. I can’t be bothered with this anymore, so...just take care of it.”
John sighed and placed his phone on the seat. Unbelievable!
He cursed as his phone buzzed again, until he noted the caller. Smiling, he answered. “Hello! You’re up rather late, aren’t you?”
“....”
“No, that’s true. I’ve never run a bar before. And Gods’ willing, I’ll never have to, no offense. So, what can I do for the Sorcerer of Midtown?”
NEXT EPISODE: MERLIN OF AVALON