It was, admittedly, a less than stellar reason to start a career. But he was used to his life taking random directions. Why not do something that would allow him to legitimately be the fool everyone thought he already was?
Besides, it gave him a reason to keep himself covered in public. His body was surprisingly sensitive to the human’s psychic emissions. Actually touching them was a psychic shock he preferred to avoid.
And his second human career choice, computer programer, turned out to be far beyond his mental capacity.
At his first children’s party he hadn’t been prepared for the sudden outburst of light energy the children generated. It had literally knocked him off his feet.
The children had thought it part of the act. Their laughter ramped up. Energy poured from them. Slamming him in waves of pure power.
In a reflex he sent images back to them.
Fortunately he’d been thinking about ice cream and cake just a moment earlier, and not spike-tentacled piranha monkeys.
The children shrieked with joy and sent even more energy at him.
This time he caught it and felt it fill his depleted magical reserves.
Living in the normal world, he had been cautioned to not use any dark or gray magic. Which was fine with him. He was happy to stay away from the taint of dark magic, and gray magic never seemed to want to work for him anyway.
But this…this was something different.
It was pure. It was good.
He quickly learned to use it. Lightening himself so he could perform extraordinary acrobatic acts. Sending happy images to delight the children at the parties. Who in turn gave him even more light energy.
Enough to sustain him.
If not make him actually happy.
Every party came to an end at some point.
42
The dark lords wanted him.
Wanted his ability.
Wanted the light energy.
Wanted it enough to put a bounty of gold on his head. Wanted it bad enough a gem witch would betray her own kind to turn him over.
Oh pooper doodles.
The thick, hot, sulfurous air above the fiery river Phlegethon stuck in his throat. Made sweat run down the rolls of fat under his orange and white striped clown uniform. There was a metallic taste in his mouth.
Then the pain hit and he’d realized he’d bitten into his own cheek. He pushed the familiar taste of blood down his throat.
He glanced to the van. Larry still sat with his face up to the windshield. His ghostly eyes were wide. Scared.
The van rocked as someone moved inside it. The suspension creaked, but not in the rhythm it had a few moments before.
Odom and the Sapphire Witch would be out soon.
And then what?
The Sapphire Witch was a traitor to her realm. And what was Odom? Paladins were supposedly incorruptible. Though finding exactly where their allegiances lay was anyone’s guess.
And what about Larry? Where did he fit in this? Was he just an accident?
No. It didn’t seem like Larry’s death was accidental any more.
But who killed him?
And why?
Was it important? Would knowing help him save the city from the lords of the dark places? It seemed all too coincidental. It seemed like a typically overthought, overly complicated unseen world scheme.
His gaze went to the finger of stone sticking up on the distant horizon. The Twilight Star hung above it in its perpetual vigil near the unseen world’s horizon.
Another Eye of Malachi. A portal to Lord Igdibon’s Keep.
How had the ogres come through it? How did they expect to get back?
Hilario told Marco to hold onto Queezleyan. The little six-tailed rat demon protested, but Hilario ignored it. He ran back over to Roger the ogre, who still sat at the edge of the silver barge, chewing on his toenails. He tried not to breath too deeply of Roger’s rotten cabbage stench.
“Oy clowns,” Roger said.
“How did you work the portal?” Hilario asked, “The Eye of Malachi.”
Roger stared at him for a long moment. Scratched his lumpy head and sighed.
“Yous gots me a prisoners of wars, rights?” Roger said.
“Well, I don’t know about–”
“Cause, beings a prisoners,” Roger said, “I woulds endures the tortures and gives up me secrets, wouldn’ts I’s?”
A metaphorical light bulb went on over Hilario’s head.
“Yes, right. Definitely,” Hilario said, “Consider yourself tortured and, um, imprisoned.”
Roger grinned a mouthful of razor sharp teeth and nodded. He stuck a knobby fingered hand under his metal studded armor. Pulled out a coppery amulet. The ogre lifted the chain over his neck and held it out to Hilario.
Hilario hesitated. The amulet was round, scrolled with intricate designs that were probably ancient words of power in the lost language of the old ones. At the center of the amulet was a brilliant blue sapphire..
Something else that probably wasn’t a coincidence.
“Its be the’s keys,” Roger said, “Takes us rights to Lord Igdibon’s Keeps. And bring’s us heres whens we’s there’s.”
Hilario thought through the implications of that. One of the dark lords had a direct line to the Gem Realm. One that didn’t have to pass through the boney gate keepers on the rivers.
He reached out. Gently took the amulet by the chain.
“Say, Roger,” he said, “How big an army does Lord Igdibon have?”
Roger gave him a wink. “Nots bigs enoughs,” he said, “Buts the lordships gots friends nows, he does.”
Hilario’s hand trembled. The amulet swung gently at the end of the chain. His mind went back to the Gem Keep. And the Sapphire Witch telling Lady Alexandrite that she and her sisters were holding the dark lords back.
And if the Keep of the Gem Realm fell? If Lady Alexandrite were imprisoned or destroyed?
