Beads of sweat streamed down the hippie’s face. He struggled against the restraints of the torture rack. “I swear, man, it wasn’t mine, I don’t know how it got there, and I don’t know who my dealer is.”

  The only name this infuriating man had given them was ‘Charlie’. If he had a last name, it had slipped his mind.

  “For the last time,” Claudette said, “we are NOT the ‘coppers.’ ”

  “Whoa, you’re not? What’s all this then?” He surveyed the torture chamber. An ever-burning torch bathed the racks and tables in a pallid red hue. His eyes widened in realization. “Look, lady, I’m flattered, but I’m not really into this hardcore bondage stuff. No judgment.”

  Claudette pulled at her hair. “I asked you one simple question. What do you know of these three individuals, and do you know where they might have gone?” She showed him the three wanted posters for the umpteenth time.

  Charlie scrutinized the faces. “Hey, I know three guys who look exactly like that. I was playing cards with them this morning. And then a bunch of other people in red dresses barged in and-”

  “Yes, we know that already,” Claudette said, “Move on.” She swore to Greg that if there was a thing such as hell, then she was in it.

  “Hey, you look exactly like that wizard lady, minus the staff,” the hippie said. He looked at Fulvio, who was sitting on a blood-caked stretching table. “And you look like the guy who yelled NOBODY EXPECTS THE BRANISH INQUISITION.”

  “Enough!” Screamed Claudette.

  “This is going nowhere,” Fulvio said, alighting from the table. “Let me have a stab at him.”

  Knowing Fulvio, he meant that literally. “He’s all yours,” Claudette said.

  Fulvio picked up a scalpel and strode to the rack. He would have looked a lot more intimidating if not for that bump on his forehead to go along with the nose gauze. “So, ‘Charlie’, if that even is your real name. Where did you say you were from again?”

  “West Side Belmont, born and bred,” Charlie said.

  “Is that so? Then explain this.” Fulvio whipped out a small bronze statuette of a fat man with several arms.

  “Careful with that; it’s a limited edition.”

  “Aha! So you admit it’s yours, Charlie, or should I say… Sanjay. Or is it Lee?… Mohammed?”

  “You oaf,” Claudette said, “this is an interrogation, not an inquisition.”

  “But it’s a false god.” Fulvio pointed to the idol.

  “And there will be time later to convert the heathen,” said an old man’s voice. High Priest Francis strutted into the room, his walking cane tapping on the stone. “But for now, it is imperative we divine the location of Nigel’s brat. Time is of the essence.”

  “Of course, Father,” Claudette said, “But if I may be so bold as to ask-not that I’m questioning your wisdom-why are we concerned about the elf? She’s but one girl.”

  “Because, daughter, all it takes is one spark to ignite an inferno. An inferno that may consume us all.”

  “But why her?”

  “I’ve had my suspicions,” Francis said, “they may yet prove to be false, but on the off-chance they aren’t, the consequences will be dire.” The High Priest walked over to Charlie and studied him.

  “Right away, Sir,” Fulvio said, “I’ll get you the intel even if I have to pry it from his cold, dead fingernails.”

  “What was that?” Francis asked, cupping one hand over his ear.

  “I said ‘I’LL GET YOU THE INTEL EVEN IF I-”

  “Don’t worry, we’ll get you that information,” Claudette said before Fulvio could wake up any vengeful ghosts resting in these dungeons.

  Charlie squirmed in his shackles. He seemed to finally comprehend the predicament he was in. “I don’t know anything. Really. You got the wrong guy.”

  “Patience, my children,” said Francis, “brute force is not always the answer.”

  “It isn’t?” said Fulvio.

  Charlie let out a breath of relief.

  “I find no pleasure in this practice.” Francis gestured to the torture devices. “It was always a means to an end.”

  “Of course, sir,” Claudette said. Where was he going with this?

  At that moment, Inquisitor Ellis marched into the room. A dirty boy in rags followed him in.

  “Found him, sir,” Ellis said.

  “You will soon see for yourself, child Fulvio.” Francis made a come-hither motion with his fingers, and the ragamuffin walked up to him. Francis patted the boy on his head. “Does my little birdie have any news?”

  The boy shook his head. He hopped onto a table and took a bite off a small loaf of bread in his hand.

  “Shall it be the stretcher, the tickler, or anal screw, Sir?” Fulvio asked.

  “None of that now,” Francis said.

  Claudette then realized what the boy was. An informant. And a street urchin no less.

  Francis put his cane down and leaned against the table. “I’m told the two of you took the templars on an outing in Lowtown.”

  “Indeed, Your Grace,” Ellis said. “Burned over a dozen houses in the name of the Lord. Unfortunately, none of the households had anything to say about the whereabouts of the elf girl.”

  Francis shook his head. “Fear is a useful tool, yes, but only so long as it doesn’t turn into anger. There are other ways of serving the Lord.”

  “But the boy said he doesn’t know anything,” Claudette said.

  Francis stroked his beard, pondering, as the boy continued munching on the loaf. Pointing at the bread, Francis said, “Wherever did you get that, my child?”

  “Got it from a boy down in the orphanage. Said a magic girl pulled it out of a hat or somethin’. ”

  Food out of thin air? Horse radish. Claudette knew of no spell that could accomplish that. If such magic existed, there wouldn’t be hunger as anyone knew it.

  With a fatherly smile, Francis patted the boy’s back. “Do tell us more.”

  The next morning, Alice found Arthur alone in the mess hall, eating leftover magic multiplication bread.

  “Where’s Elyas?” she said, “And Shaggy, for that matter?”

  “Reconnaissance,” Arthur said without looking up.

  “Meaning?”

  “They went out a few hours ago. Said he was ‘getting information’. Told me nothing else.”

  “You’re in a jolly mood this morning,” Alice said.

  “Sorry. This whole situation has me at the end of my stick.” He pushed the plate toward her. “Here, have a bite.”

  She took a munch. The bread should have been stale by now, but it was surprisingly fresh. “Let me guess,” she said between bites, “the whole running from the law thing doesn’t figure into your life plan?”

  Stolen story; please report.

  “Let’s just say I wasn’t expecting the Branish Inquisition.”

  Alice nearly choked, stifling a laugh. “Sorry about that. For, you know, bringing all this”— she gestured to her surroundings —“to your doorstep.”

  “I already told you, they’d still be after me regardless of your involvement. Not everything is your fault.”

  “And not every problem is yours to fix.”

  It looked like Arthur was about to protest, but before he could say anything else, Elyas and Shaggy marched into the mess hall, tracking mud onto the floor.

  “Where’ve you two been?” Alice said.

  “Home,” Elyas said. “Whole district’s a mess. They did a real number on it.”

  “I thought the place would be crawling with them,” Arthur said.

  “It was. We snuck in, got some supplies, and snuck out; they never knew it.” He splayed the contents of his backpack onto the table, a mix of rations, small weapons, and coins.

  He divided the rations and coin amongst them and offered Alice a pocket knife.

  “What would I need this for?” she said.

  “Think of it as backup. Just in case,” Elyas said.

  Arthur raised an eyebrow at the weapon. “You sure about that, Elyas? Does she know how to use it?”

  “Stick ‘em with the pointy end, right?” Alice said. She thrust into the air with the knife a few times.

  “You want to slash, not pierce.” Elyas took out a dagger and demonstrated the movements. “But if you do pierce, twist it.”

  Alice shadowed Elyas’s motions for a few minutes.

  Arthur watched in silence.

  When Elyas was satisfied with her progress, he took out another case. “Having a weapon is good,” he said, “But having it and not needing it is better. For that, we have these.” The case he opened was, of all things, a makeup kit.

  “Nope. No way.” Arthur stood and put up a hand.

  “What? Did you expect to just waltz into the university? With her face — and now probably ours too — postered on wanted boards in every tavern, chapel, and brothel in the city?”

  “Disguises!” Alice said when she realized what it was.

  “Disguises,” said Elyas.

  “I’ve always wanted to have red hair. Or maybe blonde.” The last time she played dress up was at a tea party with stuffed animals.

  “Blonde, brunette, or blue, you can have any hair you want. But what’s important are those.” Elyas pointed to her elf ears.

  Minutes later, her ear tips were plastered in cosmetics, and she had on colored contacts to go with a long blonde wig. “How do I look?” she said.

  “Like a million gold pieces,” said Elyas.

  “Wow,” Arthur said, “you look… wow.”

  Elyas turned to Arthur. “Your turn.”

  “I’m not putting on makeup,” Arthur said.

  “I thought so. Luckily for you, I had something else in mind.” Elyas took out a pair of glasses attached to a nose attached to a mustache.

  Alice started to laugh, then covered her mouth with a hand.

  “You’re joking,” Arthur said.

  “It’s either this or you shave your head,” Elyas said. “Up to you.”

  Arthur glared at him.

  “What about him?” Alice pointed to Shaggy.

  “You’ll see,” Elyas said.

  ~~

  Half an hour later, a blonde girl, an old man, a bespectacled boy with a bushy mustache, and a shaggy wolf wearing a reindeer headband walked out of the Sisters of Chastity orphanage.

  Sister Ingrid was standing by the doorway, and a few sleepy-eyed children peeked from behind her.

  “Are you going away, Miss Alice?” asked a little girl.

  Alice leaned over and tucked a fleck of hair behind the girl’s ear. “Oh sweetie, I’m sorry but I can’t stay here. It’ll put you in da—uh, I don’t want to cramp up your living room.”

  “Where’re you goin’?” asked a boy.

  “We’re off to see a wizard in a big magic school.”

  “Should you be telling him that?” asked Arthur.

  Alice ignored him. “I would love to stay and keep doing the magic trick with the fish, but see, I forgot how to do it, and I need a wizard to teach me how to do it again.”

  “But you’ll come back?” the girl asked with pleading eyes.

  “Promise.” Alice raised a pinky finger, which the girl shook with her own. Alice would come back. She would make sure of it.

  They waved goodbye to Sister Ingrid and the kids and walked away from the orphanage in complete silence.

  After a while, the old man spoke up. “Lead the way, Mustachio,” Elyas said. It was amazing what a little cosmetics and a walking cane could do.

  “I never agreed to that name,” Arthur said.

  ~~

  They made their way through Lowtown without a hitch, but as they entered Mid City and neared the university, an entirely different intracity police force came to the fore.

  “Lots of City Watch patrolling these parts,” Arthur said.

  “Relax,” Elyas said in a raspy old man voice, “they couldn’t care less. We’re heretics, not traitors.”

  “Probably just on their way to some student rally,” Alice said, “guess some things don’t change.”

  “You’re an AU alum too?” Arthur said.

  “You’re looking at a Bachelorette of General Studies.”

  “I didn’t know they had a General Studies program,” Arthur said.

  “They don’t. I just kept putting off declaring a major, and before I knew it, I had enough units to graduate.”

  They ambled through the market district along the perimeter of the university. The air was filled with the savory aroma of cheap student meals that barely passed the Royal Food Authority’s health standards. A pair of City Watch guards eyed a group of students innocently sipping milk tea.

  “How about you?” Alice said, picking up their conversation where it left off. “No, let me guess.”

  “The Adventuring Academy,” she and Arthur said at the same time.

  “That must have been a blast,” Alice said. “You guys always looked like you were having a great time waving wooden swords around.”

  “Yup, it was a real hoot.”

  It might have been Alice’s imagination, but he started walking a little faster.

  They were now within university grounds, and this was where things got interesting. Almost on cue, a student handed Alice a leaflet. It was another one of those pamphlets criticizing indulgences. Oh boy, would Francis throw a fit.

  Other flyer subjects they passed included: an attack on the feudal system in favor of a free market; an attack on the free market’s attack on the feudal system in favor of a communal system; and an advert for a manga appreciation club.

  All these were but trifles compared to what came next.

  The magic institute stood on the other side of a grass field. A crowd of students had gathered around a raised wooden platform at the center of the field. On the platform, a young halfling woman spoke into a conic magic device that enhanced her voice. Behind her: a life-sized straw-stuffed caricature of a woman with a cardboard crown sewn to its head. The figure’s head was locked in a complicated wooden contraption that included a glistening blade hanging 20 feet in the air. A guillotine.

  As Arthur led them around the field to the institute, Alice couldn’t help but listen in.

  “Supreme legislative, executive, and judiciary power should not be vested in a single person as determined by hereditary lineage or a mandate of heaven,” said the halfling orator.

  “Hear, hear,” cried the crowd.

  “And frankly,” the orator continued, “Her Majesty has neither royal genealogy nor religious endorsement.”

  The crowd laughed.

  The speaker waited for it to die down. “These powers should not only be separated but also be vested only by the mandate of the masses.”

  More thunderous applause from the crowd. The students raised their picket signs and shouted exclamations like “Down with the monarchy!” and such.

  The several City Watch officers spectating the event grew restless. Watch members were frequently deployed to aimlessly wander around campus to wait for someone to do something overtly illegal so they could arrest them. If things ever got rowdy, they had the riot tower shields ready, though Alice had never seen things escalate to that level before.

  The speaker rambled on, but Alice didn’t hear the rest of it. They were up the steps to the Royal Institute of Magic’s main building through the front doors.

  Glowing crystals hanging from chandeliers illuminated the carpeted interior of the institute. As Arthur led them through the halls, they passed paintings of previous institute deans, research awards displayed on pedestals, and magic relics behind glass exhibits.

  Typical. It was always the STEM and magic programs that got the dragon’s share of the university’s budget.

  Students milled about, arms full of books and scrolls. Cats, toads, owls, and other critters openly scuttled about the halls. At one point, a tiny faerie dragon flew past Alice’s head to rest on a girl’s shoulder. The students didn’t give a second glance to Shaggy or the rest of them.

  Arthur stopped in front of a mahogany door. He knocked three times.

  A voice boomed from within. “If this is about your grades, they are posted on the bulletin board in lecture hall 103. I will not entertain solicitors, apprenticeship applicants, and certainly not grade negotiators.”

  “How about very old friends?” Arthur said.

  Almost as soon as he ended the sentence, the doors swung open, revealing a stout man with a dark bushy beard. He wore a dark robe that gazed the floor and a turban around his head. Two sets of spectacles rested on his big nose.

  Arthur held out his hand, but the man grabbed him in an embrace instead. “Arthur, lad, it’s been too long.” He paused and regarded Arthur’s face. “You’ve certainly changed since I saw you last.”

  “It’s just a silly thing, don’t mind it.” Arthur removed his ‘disguise’.

  “Come in, make yourselves at home.” The man ushered them all in and bade them to sit on the couch. Shaggy made himself comfy on an ottoman chair. The man took the seat opposite Arthur and removed the larger of his spectacles.

  “Pray tell,” said the professor, “what brings you to my humble abode?”

  “Fareed, this is Elyas and Alice, and that’s Shaggy. Guys, this is Fareed al-Sabir, tenured professor and ex-adventurer.”

  “And a pretty darned good ex-adventurer at that,” said Fareed.

  “Don’t I know it,” teased Arthur.

  The two of them laughed together like old friends as they exchanged pleasantries and life updates.

  Alice let them continue with their small talk in the background and focused instead on the room.

  Fully stuffed bookshelves lined the room, nearly grazing the sloping ceiling. One wall was a full mural of bright white dots connected by thin lines, all on a backdrop of inky blue. In the center of the room shone a large telescope pointing out the open window pane at the apex of the dome ceiling.

  But what caught her eye was the round blue object in the corner. She stood and approached it. On its surface were marked the outlines of all the major landmasses that she knew and some more that she didn’t. Next to it, several other globes of varying colors and sizes rested on thin metal rods, all connected to a single contraption. She prodded them one by one, and they each orbited around the big yellow ball at the center. To her surprise, when she poked the Earth, it too revolved around the sun.

  “Do you like that?” Fareed said. “It’s a model imported from my homeland. It cost a lot to smuggle it through the gatekeepers. Don’t tell anyone.” He winked.

  “I won’t,” Alice said. “By any chance, have you ever heard of a Homolepithicus elficanus?”

  “Homo what now?” Elyas said.

  “I don’t believe I have,” Fareed said. “If I’m not mistaken, that sounds like a taxonomic classification under the ancient elven tongue.”

  “I thought you were a wizard, not a scientist.”

  “Ah, but one does not preclude the other, wouldn’t you agree?”

  “Sure…” Alice said.

  Fareed nodded, stroking his beard. “You would be forgiven to believe otherwise, but in reality, not only are science and magic not mutually exclusive, they are, in fact, deeply intertwined.”

  “That’s why we’re here,” Arthur said. “We could use your expertise.”

  “Whatever for?” Fareed asked.

  “It’s a long story,” Alice said.