by Mike Truman

special thanks to ML Thouvenel
beta-read by Jayelle Carey
 

"No, sir, I am not interested in purchasing a leather mug, nor do I wish to exchange livestock," said Arturo with a growing edge to his voice.  He had only been on this world five minutes and already the locals were trying his patience.

"Lighten up, Max.  It's a Renaissance festival!" said fellow slider Logan.  "Try to stay in character."

"Character?" retorted Arturo, gesticulating.  "There is no shortage of them.  Just look around."

A large mass of people was moving about the fairground in the gathering dusk.  Makeshift booths were set up throughout, forming a marketplace for crafts and food.  Entertainers ranging from jugglers to musicians roved throughout the crowd to the delight of the children dashing about.  All were dressed in period pieces, making the three new arrivals look even more out of place than usual.

"You know, I've always wondered why they call these shindigs Renaissance festivals," said Rembrandt.  "These people don't look too enlightened."

"Renaissance means rebirth," said Logan, "and this is a celebration of a more romantic time."

"And a dirtier time!" cried Rembrandt.  "I know these people are trying to get in the mood, but take a bath!"

"I couldn't have put it better," huffed Arturo.  "Grown men and women pretending they were in the eighth century; children running around like heathens.  If they were truly sent back in time, I'd give them twelve hours before they were pleading for their cellular phones and air conditioned offices."

"Well, I think it's neat," said Logan.  "Didn't you guys ever play Dungeons and Dragons?"

Rembrandt and Arturo looked at her blankly.

"Yeah, well, it's cool, trust me," said Logan without a trace of embarrassment.  "And since we've got ten days to kill on this world, I'd like to come back once we find some more appropriate clothes."

"I thought we left Miss Wells behind," muttered Arturo to Rembrandt.  Rembrandt nodded.  Wade would have liked this, he thought.  It's too bad she had to miss it.  But Maggie was in no condition to slide, and someone had to stay with her.  They couldn't leave Logan behind.  She was sort of attached to the equipment needed to slide back, so Wade, being Wade, volunteered to look after Maggie.  The ten-day wait to the next window was just bad luck.  That was a whole lot of Logan he and the professor would have to endure.

"Oooo!  Chicken legs on a stick!" said Logan, rushing off to the vendor.

"Yo! Get me one of those!" said Rembrandt after her.  Arturo glared at him with disdain.  "What?" asked Remmy.  "When in Rome, right?"

“And didn't that experience turn out swimmingly?” Arturo retorted before sighing.  "Look, is it too much to ask that we find civilization and settle in before we join the cast of Avalon?  Then you and Miss St. Clair can whittle twigs and sing about leprosy to your heart's content...  I say, mendicant, watch where you point that glorified piece of cutlery!"

The professor had been nearly clipped by a young man walking by.  He was dressed in light armor and had a rather large sword swinging from his waist.  Though the man had paid no heed to Arturo initially, he certainly had his attention now.

"Did you say something to me, peasant?" he replied gruffly.  Arturo looked at Rembrandt with a bemused scowl, then he fixed his gaze upon the challenger.

"Mendicant.  Would you like me to define it for you?  Or perhaps spell it out phonetically?" he sneered.

The local was less than impressed.  "Old man, as long as you've been around, one would think you'd have learned some respect."

"Perhaps when you've reached my age, you will be a better judge of whom is deserving of it," an incensed Arturo replied, backing down not an inch.  This outraged the local, who unhooked his sword from his belt and aimed it at Arturo's chest.

Arturo put his hands on his hips and laughed, provoking the other even further.  Logan returned as Arturo proceeded to taunt him some more.  "Why don't you go back to the car wash or service station that employs you - assuming you are employed - and grow up?  Leave these games to the children."

"Uh... Max," interrupted Logan.

"Not now," said Arturo.  "Can't you see I'm in the midst of teaching this Robin Hood reject a lesson in manners?"

"Well, before you continue the lecture, I just thought you should know this isn't a fair."

"Come again?"

"This is real," she said with a wry smile.

"Ah, this is real," repeated the professor as Logan's words sank in. "This is real?!"

Arturo turned to the enraged man with a huge teeth-bearing grin on his face.  "Whoo boy...heh heh...yessss," he said, looking at the sword.  "Sharp little devil, isn't it?  Ahhhhh....hell."

*****

What if there were alternate realities of Earth?  Same planet, different dimension.
A world where the internet is a way of life?
Or where the Russians rule America?
Or where your worst enemy is your own self?
Worlds where your dreams can come true, or your nightmares can haunt you...
These places do exist.  My friends and I have found the gateway to reach them!
Now the only problem is... finding a way back home....

Sliders - Infinite Slides
Based on the TV series 'Sliders'
Created by Tracy Tormé and Robert K. Weiss

*****

A crowd gathered around them as if they were two kids squaring off on a junior high playground.  All that was missing were the chants of 'Fight! Fight! Fight!'  Arturo's mind raced as he looked for a graceful way out of this situation.  Scratch graceful, anything that didn't end with him being run through by that sword was an acceptable conclusion.  "You see, sir, where I come from, mendicant is a term of the utmost respect..." Arturo began, his hands fumbling in his pockets.  On impulse, he removed his lighter and a cigar from his coat.  Smoke was a symbol of peace in some cultures; it was worth a shot.  "What say we have a smoke and no hard feelings, eh?"

Arturo was so nervous that he inadvertently fumbled the flame guard.  The fire shot up about six inches into the air, lighting the cigar and nearly singeing Arturo's eyebrows.  He was about to hand it to his adversary, but an audible gasp from the crowd gathered around gave him pause.  The swordsman immediately lowered his weapon and knelt down before him, both hands resting on the hilt of his blade.  "I'm sorry, my lord, I had no idea.  Please forgive me," he groveled.

Others around also dropped down, crying out.  The fair came to a standstill.  Only Arturo, Rembrandt, and Logan were left on their feet in the immediate vicinity.

"The hell?" muttered Arturo as scattered shouts came from the gathered:

"Did you see that?"

"He has the power over nature!"

"I have a wife and two kids! Don't turn me into a goat!"

As Arturo stood, stunned from the turn of events, Rembrandt quickly pieced it together.  "They mustn't have seen the lighter, all they saw was flame coming from your hand."

"I bet they think he's a sorcerer!" said Logan, a broad smile crossing her face.

"Ixnay on the ighterlay," Arturo gritted through his teeth.

"Now he's speaking in tongues!" declared a man in the crowd, and they all oooed and ahhhed once again.  Logan couldn't help but laugh.

"This is not funny!" growled Arturo.

"No! No!" exclaimed the crowd, shaking their heads and cowering.  "Shall we kill her for her blasphemy, your lordship?" one asked.  Now it was Logan's turn to smile uncomfortably.

"No, no, it's fine," said Arturo, exasperated.  "No need to sacrifice anyone for me... yet," he softly added, making sure Logan got the drift.

"Because it's not a problem..."

"I said no killing!"

"Yes, my lord!" the peasant cried, bowing down again.  The surrounding peasants slapped him and smacked him upside the head for his impudence.  As this was happening, the swordsman slowly lifted his head and extended his free hand to the professor.

"My lord, the king will be most joyous to hear of your arrival. We have been without the services of a wizard for some time," the swordsman stated.  "If it so please you, I will take you to court."

"Wizard?!" Arturo exclaimed, causing the gathered to shudder once again.  If the professor had had his way, he would have politely declined the offer and made a break for parts far from this fairground.  But Logan had other ideas.  This was an opportunity to humiliate an Arturo, and she couldn't pass it up.  "He'd be delighted to go to court," she volunteered.

"I will?" he roared, but his response was misunderstood.

"Excellent, my lord!" cried the swordsman, leaping to his feet.  "I will bring the horses around... unless, of course, you prefer to fly..."

Arturo glared at Logan before growling, "Conventional means will be fine."  The swordsman broke into a sprint, followed by a teenage boy, probably his page.  The three were left momentarily with the adoring masses.  Logan gave the professor a playful slap across the chest.

"Way to go, Merlin," she snickered.  Rembrandt chuckled as well, patting him on the back.  Arturo merely sighed and looked to the heavens.

-----

The castle was nestled in a valley, protected on three sides by steep cliffs.  It wasn't a phenomenal piece of architecture by any means, but it was massive enough and served its purpose of both citadel and intimidator.  'I am large, thus I am important,' it stated.  Even so, it didn't impress everyone.

"What?  No moat?" asked Logan.  "No drawbridge either.  What kind of a second rate castle is this?"

The three sliders were trailing behind the swordsman and his boy.  They had ridden to the castle at a leisurely pace as it was but a few miles from the fairgrounds.  The castle was the centerpiece of a small community - small from their perspective, but large for this world as they would later discover.

A trio of pikemen pushed the massive wooden door open and the group entered the courtyard.  As the door swung closed, Arturo looked back wistfully.  "Oh what have we gotten into...  Better yet, where have we gotten into?  I say, you there!"

The swordsman brought his horse about.  "Yes, my lord?"

"What is this place?" Arturo inquired.

"Why, this is Kings Canyon," he said proudly.

"The national park?" asked Rembrandt, eyebrow raised.

"The seat of power for all of the land," replied the swordsman, "home of King Percival the Fourth."

"King Percival?" repeated Logan and Rembrandt simultaneously.

"Yes, the King Percival himself," nodded the swordsman, misinterpreting their disbelief for a sense of awe.  "He is a formidable king, ruler of all he surveys."

"All he surveys, hm," muttered Arturo.  "Considering he's in the bottom of a ravine..."

-----

King Percival sat slouched in his throne, his crown cocked to one side.  His left hand propped up his head as if he was having a hard time staying awake.  It had been a peaceful few weeks.  No wars, no plagues - a peasant rebellion or two, but nothing he concerned himself with.  Percival had long since ceded the tedious affairs of state to his Council of Knights.  They liked that sort of thing for some reason, and he was all too happy to be rid of it.  Percival was far more interested in amusements, which his kingdom was sorely lacking at present.

His right hand man, Sir Lindsay, noticed the king dozing off and decided he needed a distraction.  "Your majesty, perhaps a performance by the court jester would liven things up?"

"Whatever," the king said with a slight wave of his hand, his head temporarily drooping without the support of his appendage.

"Bring in Mister Wing!" Sir Lindsay said with a clap.

Entering the throne room was the court jester, one Mister Wing, a man in about his mid-twenties.  He was attired in some loud red and green clothes and his long hair was flung wildly about him.  He immediately launched into his routine.  "Hey, hey, great to be back here in Kings Canyon.  I just rode in from Death Valley and boy are my hooves tired!"

The king and his men stared at him blankly.

Wing shuffled his note cards.  "Man, that usually goes over great in the villages.  Lemme see here...  Oh, oh, did you hear the one about the knight who cooked for a dragon?  He asked the dragon, 'How would you like your dinner?  Well done or still in its armor?'"

More blank stares.

"Gee, you're killing me here, people," pleaded an exasperated Wing.

"Not a bad idea," muttered Percival.  "Guards! Take him to the dungeon."

"No, no, wait!  I haven't broken out my 'A' material yet!  Let me do my drunken monk routine!  No? How about this? A cleric, a nobleman, and a peasant walk into a tavern..." began Wing, as the guardsmen pulled him away.  "I should have listened to my father and become a herdsman, but noooooo, I wanted to be an entertainer..."

As the guards hauled poor Wing out, a page bolted into the throne room.  "What is the meaning of this intrusion?" demanded Sir Lindsay.

"My apologies, my liege, but Sir Wesley has arrived with big news.  He claims to have a wizard with him!" exclaimed the excited page.

King Percival immediately perked up.  "A wizard?"

There was audible murmuring in the chamber from the rest of the king's men.  Fear and apprehension consumed the room, except for the king.

"What should I do, my liege?" questioned the page.

"Send him in immediately! Finally, something interesting!" exclaimed Percival.  "Isn't this marvelous, Lindsay?"

"Oh... splendid," stuttered Lindsay.

The trumpets blared, announcing the arrival of Sir Wesley and the sliders.

The three marched behind their escort into the spacious throne room.  It was not highly decorative or filled with chests of gold, but colorful banners did hang on the back wall behind the throne.  Large windows high up the front and back walls allowed plenty of starlight in and a host of flickering torches and candles gave the room a somewhat cheerful atmosphere.

Logan sized up its inhabitants.  Dead ahead was the king.  To her surprise, there was nothing extraordinary about him other than his lavish dress and crown.  She was far more impressed by the armored men that surrounded him - the knights.  There were about a dozen in the room.  They weren't in full walking tin kettle suits, just light mail, but they looked pretty damn formidable.

Arturo also took careful note of his surroundings, not out of awe, but out of a sense of survival.  The hole he had allowed Logan to put himself in was only getting deeper.  His eyes locked on the man to the king's right.  Sir Lindsay was a big man - tall, broad-shouldered, and muscular.  His hair was so dark it was practically black, and he had deep brown eyes to match.  He had an air of authority to him.  Arturo thought he looked more the part of king than Percival.

"My king," said the swordsman Wesley with a bow.  "It is my great honor to present to you the wizard... uh... the wizard..."  Suddenly Wesley realized that in all the excitement, he never asked the wizard's name.  He hadn't dared.  Fortunately for him, the wizard took care of the introductions personally.

"Arturo.  And these are my traveling companions," said the professor, flicking his fingers as he struggled to give them appropriate names, "the er... Lady Logan and the um... Bard Brown."

"Pleased to meet you, your grace," Rembrandt said, dropping to one knee.  Logan smirked at him, so he grabbed her by the arm and pulled her down too.

"The wizard Arturo, of course!  Your fame is known far and wide," exclaimed the King.

"It is?" remarked Arturo.

"Oh...oh...yes," stuttered Percival, caught in his lie.  "Who hasn't heard of uh... Artoto!"

The knights shifted their feet and shrugged.

"Clearly these people..." muttered Logan under her breath as she shook off Rembrandt and got back to her feet.  Inside, she was fuming.  Royalty or not, Logan bowed for nobody.

"I am most happy to have you in my court, Artie," said Percival graciously.

"Oh, the pleasure is all mine," bristled the professor, but he kept his smile plastered to his face.

"Your presence is just what we need to liven this old kingdom up.  I can't tell you how boring it's been since the last wizard left us," said Percival.

"So I've heard.  Might I inquire, what became of him?"

"He did not live up to expectations.  I say if a man claims he can walk on water, then by natural extension, he should be able to walk under water.  Pity he couldn't swim... but anyway, I'm sure a man of your power has nothing to fear."  The king leaned forward, his hand still under his chin.  "So tell me, what is it you do?"

"Well, I am a professor of cosmology and ontology," stammered Arturo, still reeling from his predecessor's fate.

The king and company didn't quite follow.  Rembrandt nudged Arturo, "I think the king wants to know what kind of magic you do, Wiz."

"Magic?  Mr. Brown, I don't know any..."

Rembrandt coughed loudly and motioned back at the expectant king.

"You know, why don't you tell them about the cosmic mysteries of... physics!" he said menacingly.  The court suddenly hushed.  Logan caught on.  "And... quantum mechanics!"  The court gasped.

"Not to mention, the most feared of your crafts, the calculus!" declared Rembrandt after a dramatic pause.

A page fainted.

"Clearly you are powerful to know such fearsome sounding magics," said Percival gravely.  Lindsay put his hand to his head to conceal the rolling of his eyes.  "I must see these things! I desire a performance!"

Arturo was just about to tell the king what he desired, but mercifully Logan stepped in.  "Surely, you can't expect the great Wizard Arturo to perform on demand.  His magic is of such power that it takes time to build to its full potency.  He has been traveling all day and needs rest."

Percival looked crestfallen for a moment, but recovered.  "Of course, of course.  Tomorrow will be fine."

"Tomorrow?!" Arturo objected, but Percival motioned to Wesley's page. "Boy, show our guests to the previous wizard's quarters.  Take care of whatever they need."

"Allow me, my king," interjected Sir Wesley.  "It would be my honor and privilege to escort the Lady to her quarters."  He made a slight bow in Logan's direction.  She looked around before realizing he was referring to her.  Almost as an afterthought, Wesley added, "And the wizard, of course."

"Very well," the king said.  Percival gave one last quick glance to his guests before returning to his ennui, "Good bye, until tomorrow! Ta ta!"

"Tomorrow, yes," muttered Arturo as he shuffled out of the throne room.

-----

Logan twirled before the mirror, the sash from her long, pointed hat swishing around her.  'The Lady Logan' was trying on the garments provided her, all befitting of her title, and all long-sleeved by her lady's request.  The clothing was far more conservative and less revealing than books and movies had led her to believe, but this little number was still a head-turner.  "Damn, I look good in red!"

"Hey, conehead!" shouted Rembrandt, causing her to blush.  Logan tossed her cap at him as he chuckled.  Rembrandt did a twirl of his own, asking, "What do you think of my new threads?"

The Cryin' Man lived.  Rembrandt had managed to find a powder blue ensemble, recalling his glory days with the Topps.  Logan had been vaguely aware of the Rembrandt Brown of her world and his taste for gaudy apparel, but to see it less than ten feet away from her was another matter.  She just stared at him in disbelief.

"Rembrandt, the whole point of changing clothes was to try to fit in.  You'd be less conspicuous if you were still in your old clothes."

"I wish I was!  I hate wool.  I'm itching like mad," said Remmy, scratching his chest.

"Yeah, well they're a thousand years from discovering polyester.  Make do," remarked Logan.  "Where's Max?"

"He's uh... coming," snickered Rembrandt.

"Oh no, I'm not!" yelled Arturo from behind the door.

"Come on, Professor, show off the duds!"

The door slowly opened.  After a pause of a few seconds, Arturo slowly shuffled out.  While Rembrandt tried to refrain from rolling on the floor laughing, Logan's jaw just dropped.

"How bad is it?" asked Arturo pitifully.  He was attired in a deep purple robe lined with what appeared to be very rough rhinestones.  Accompanying the robe was a long blue cape with haphazard white pieces of fabric, or "stars," stitched here and there.

"You look... out of this world," deadpanned Logan, suppressing a few giggles.

"Are you kidding?  Hee hee, he looks like an unholy merging of Liberace and Elvis in the declining years," spat out Rembrandt in between guffaws.

"That's it!" said Arturo, struggling to untie the cape.

"Don't forget your hat," wheezed Rembrandt.  He walked into Arturo's room and placed a large pointy royal blue hat, complete with a crescent moon and more "stars," on top of Arturo's head.  Logan gave in and broke out laughing as well.

"These people have a warped sense of fashion.  The more important you are, the more ridiculous you are expected to be attired," Arturo said through the laughter of his two companions.  Then he got a good look at Rembrandt.  "I stand corrected."

"Don't take it out on me, Professor.  You're the one who decided to go through with this," said Rembrandt, now using the wall to support himself because he was laughing so hard.  "You could have told them off in the throne room last night.  You da wizard!"

"Or at least the Sorcerer's Apprentice," chimed in Logan, wiping the tears from her face.  Arturo threw down his hat.

"And what would you have had me do to prove my power?  Pipe bomb their privies?  They have very sharp weaponry.  I have a lighter I purchased for ninety-nine cents at a 7-11," sighed Arturo.  "What I wouldn't give right now for an eclipse of the sun to take credit for..."

"Yeah, well you better think of something quick.  The King's gonna be expecting big things from the famous Wizard Artoto tonight," smirked Rembrandt.

"I have thought of something.  First I will find the fastest horse in the kingdom.  Then I will make myself disappear for the duration of the slide," said Arturo.

Logan winced.  "You can't be serious.  Right now you are among the most powerful people in the kingdom, possibly more powerful than even King Percy.  Play your cards right, and we can take anything we want.  When I tried to pay for that snack back on the fairgrounds, they were practically willing to trade their first born for my dimes and nickels."

Logan continued, "Just think of the possibilities.  If we come back here with a couple rolls of pennies, we'd make the Dutch look like they overpaid the Indians for the island of Manhattan."

"You astound me, Logan," said Arturo sternly.  "For someone supposedly so smart, you learn nothing.  Doesn't your misadventure on sorceress world mean anything to you?"

"Relax, Max.  It's not like anybody got killed," she shrugged.  Arturo looked at her, horrified.

"I'm kidding!" she said.  "Jeez, I'm not going to try to take over the world.  If I were going to take over, I'd pick a place with a higher life expectancy.  But I do think you're not giving this world enough credit.  This could be fun!  I mean, I grew up reading about wizards and warriors.  I know all about this culture."

"How can you presume to know anything of this world?  I don't care if you have read Sir Gawain and the Green Knight, this is not seventh century Britain.  This is a completely separate entity.  While it has some superficial resemblance to the past, it cannot possibly be what you imagine it," lectured Arturo.

"That's a mighty narrow view of divergences, Max," chastised Logan.  "Did it ever occur to you that in this dimension the English may have settled and developed here instead of Europe?"

"Oh really, Miss St. Clair?  Then, do tell, how did they get here? Forgive me, but I don't think these people came over on the Mayflower," retorted Arturo, his voice raised.

"They could have walked here before the continents drifted, just like the Indians did," replied Logan.

"So how do you explain their technology being so far behind?" asked Rembrandt.

"It was a long walk," shrugged Logan.  "Who do I look like?  Alex Trebek?  The point is, take it for what it is.

"At least that's my plan," she added with a smile.  Arturo and Rembrandt groaned.

-----

The castle's War Room doubled as the true seat of power in the kingdom.  It was here that the Council of Knights discussed and formulated public policy.  Sir Lindsay liked the symbolism of using the war room, for he saw little difference between war and government.  This was his favorite room.  It was his domain.

"Production in the countryside has fallen off dramatically.  Our revenues are a full third off from last month," said Lindsay to his small assembly, composed of Sirs Yancy, Chauncey, and Anson.  Yancy was the kingdom's foremost general, second to none in his skills with the sword.  He was a large, athletic man with long blond hair that he pulled tightly into a ponytail.  He exuded strength and power, possibly even more so than the First Knight Lindsay did.

Chauncey was the gray-bearded veteran of the kingdom.  Too old to fight, he spent most of his time formulating new and bizarre systems of rule.  As for Anson, his major claim to fame had been his ability to merely stay alive long enough to reach senior level.

"It has been a tough locust season," opined Sir Anson.

"Every season is a tough locust season!" retorted Lindsay.

"The locusts aren't the trouble," interjected Yancy.  "It's morale.  The people have lost faith in the king.  They see him as a self-interested fool who doesn't care about them."

"The people are more perceptive than I thought," said Sir Lindsay, "but he is our king."

"Only by a fluke of birth, Lindsay.  Any one of us would make a better king and we all know it," said Yancy tersely, "even Anson."

"I keep telling you, the only way to govern a territory is to break it up into smaller pieces, each piece led by a lord.  The lord would then in turn subdivide his land and give them to vassals in exchange for considerations, say loyalty or men.  These vassals could then break out their lands into fiefdoms for the peasants to work," suggested the grizzled knight.

"For the last time, Sir Chauncey, we're not going ahead with your futile system!" declared Lindsay.

"There's always brute force and the threat of bodily harm to those who do not meet expected production.  The gallows have a way of motivating a man," said Yancy.

"That's not the kind of kingdom I want to run," Lindsay curtly responded.

"Well we need to do something," fired back Yancy, now on his feet.  "The time has come for new leadership.  If not, Percival will run what's left of this kingdom into the ground and where will that leave us?"

The room went quiet as they pondered Yancy's question, none liking the answer.  Anson broke the silence, asking, "What about this new wizard? Maybe he can make everything right again."

Yancy grimaced.  "Come now, Anson, you don't really believe this wizard nonsense."

Anson shrugged, but it was clear he wasn't dismissive of the notion.  This caught Lindsay's eye.  A smile crept across his face.

"It doesn't matter if we believe it or not.  What matters is what the common man thinks.  A wizard can amaze..."

"Can inspire..." added Chauncey, catching on.

"Can make one proud of his kingdom..." said Lindsay.

"Can turn horses into dragons..." excitedly added Anson.

Lindsay laughed, but not at Sir Anson.  A plan was forming.  Now to see it their wizard was up to the task.

-----

"Now, if we define v as a constant and calculate 1.012 as our standard deviation, we can now expect results at a rate of roughly 2.3 days..." the professor lectured as he added his fifteenth equal sign to a long train of equations that spread across a large off-white sheet hanging on the wall.

Rembrandt's eyes followed the professor's hand, but the light had long gone out.  His brain was pretty much concentrating on its standard checklist of involuntary actions.  Beside him, Logan heckled, "Soooolllllvvvveeed thaaaaaaat."

The hairs on the back of Arturo's neck stood in defiance to Logan's taunting as he continued.  "Now, assuming a sample of ten to the thirty-third power atoms are available, we can reasonably determine..."

"Boooooooorrrrrrinnnnggggggg!"

"Damn it, Miss St. Clair, I'm trying to present a very complex subject and I cannot think with your constant yammering!" he roared.

"Look, man, Logan has a point.  Isn't there something you could do that would be a little more... interesting?" Rembrandt said, roused from his comatose state.

"I'll have you know my thesis on proton decay was a smashing success at the Unified Field Theory Symposium at Stanford," an indignant Arturo replied.

"Yeah?  Well, the only thing that'll be smashed is you if you try to pass this gobbledy-gook off as magic before the king," countered Rembrandt.  "These people don't care about constants and guts..."

"GUTs. Grand Unified Theories..." interjected Arturo.

"Whatever.  The point is it's all just a bunch of numbers and letters.  The king's going to want to see cool stuff, like people getting cut in half and put back together again," suggested Rembrandt.

"Mr. Brown," began Arturo, quietly and slowly in order to build to full rage.  "In case you hadn't noticed, I care not for what is 'cool.' I care for what is true.  Now these people expect me to give them a show.  I in turn am giving them knowledge of their universe that none of them will ever approximate in their short, brutish lives.  I WILL NOT PULL RABBITS OUT OF MY RIDICULOUS LOOKING HAT!"

"Do you think he wants to be buried or cremated?  I wonder if they'll give us the option," Logan wondered aloud to Rembrandt.

"I just don't want them to feed into this magical nonsense.  The people of this world have no acumen for intellectualism.  For example, you'll never guess what my page left in my shoes this morning," said Arturo to Rembrandt.

"I'll bite.  What?" said Rembrandt.

"Celery seeds."

"Does he want you to plant a magic beanstalk?"

Arturo shook his head.  "He gave them to me so I could fly.  Apparently, all it takes to overcome the rules of aerodynamics is vegetables on your feet."

"I hear mushrooms can make you fly, but only special ones," added Logan, gaining a glare from the professor.  "Gee, I guess levity is lost on you."

"Look, I'm not going to do any hocus-pocus nonsense.  It's an indignity to me and a disservice to the denizens of this earth.  If I must go on with this charade, I will teach, not con," the professor declared, laying down the line.

"That's fine by me," agreed Rembrandt.  "Just start at the beginning.  The level of tech around here is probably maxed out at the pulley.  Don't hit them over the head with guts."

"G. U... Oh, never mind," Arturo said, throwing up his hands.  He paused for a moment to plot a new course of action.  When he reached a conclusion, he grimaced.  "Although it pains me deeply, I believe I'll be needing Logan's assistance."

"Great!" said Rembrandt as he practically sprinted to the door.  "I'll let you eggheads work.  See you tonight!"

"I am not an egghead!" Logan called after him.  Arturo raised an eyebrow at her.  "Well, I'm not.  Just because a person is smart doesn't make them a geek."

"Mm-hmm," the professor half-heartedly agreed.  "Come along.  We're going to need charcoal, potassium, and some nitrate sulfur for starters."

-----

It truly was a dirty place to live, thought Rembrandt.  The castle itself wasn't so bad.  It wasn't meticulously dusted and swept, but at the very least it was no worse than a college dormitory.  Old food was disposed of, waste cleaned up; it wasn't the Dominion, but it was pleasant.  Not so here in the village.  There was no department of sanitation, so the people needed to take care of their own garbage.  Some did, others didn't.  The 'streets', better described as beaten paths between thatched huts and shacks, were in utter disarray... and filled with horse droppings.  Rembrandt winced as a warm breeze picked up the wretched scent and blew it his way.

"I need Arturo to get on King Percy about putting some pooper-scooper laws on the books," he grimaced.  "And I thought dog doo was bad."

"Bard Brown?" a voice behind him asked.  Rembrandt turned.  Before him was a young man, maybe sixteen or seventeen.  Behind him were three other boys, perhaps just a little bit younger.  He recognized the lead youth as Sir Wesley's page.  Was something up at the castle?

"Yeah, that's me," replied Rembrandt.

"My name's Winfred, but my friends call me Winnie," the boy said.

Rembrandt had to choke down a laugh.  This kid had cruel friends.  "Winnie, huh?  What's up?"

Winnie looked up.  Rembrandt sighed and rolled his eyes.  "I mean, what can I do for you?"

"You are the wizard's bard.  You must know wonderful stories," he said.

"You don't know the half of it," chuckled Rembrandt.

"I was...we were...hoping you would be so gracious as to tell us one or two...no just one...well two if you don't mind...but it's entirely your decision..." the boy stuttered.

Rembrandt laughed.  "So, you wanna hear about the great wizard?  Gather round, gather round."

Rembrandt found a bale of hay to sit down on and the boys sat on the ground in front of him.  "All right, let's see... tales about the wizard, tales about the wizard...  Ah, here's a good one.  Hee hee. Okay, now this is the story of how the Wizard Arturo discovered a bee colony and spoke words that none of us had ever heard him utter before..."

And so Rembrandt told stories for hours that day.  At first, his audience was comprised of only kids, but soon a large crowd of adults stopped to listen.  Remmy began with humiliating stories aimed at getting laughs but moved on to tales of the professor's greatest accomplishments.  He mixed and matched the feats of this Arturo and the one he first slid with.  Rembrandt was careful to never mention sliding and edited out as much technology as possible.  His inability to fully explain how Arturo did all he did only made his works more wondrous to those gathered.

"And that is how he created what we now refer to as penicillin," ended Rembrandt, recounting a story from their first year of sliding.

"He can cure the plague?!  He's not just a wizard, but a savior!" cried out one man.

"Yeah, I suppose he should probably introduce that here," said Rembrandt as an afterthought.

"Tell us another tale!" cried out the enthralled youth seated before him.

"Okay, okay.  But I'm tired of talking about Arturo.  Why don't we hear a tale about someone else who was also very famous and beloved by all the people?"

"Alright," they said in unison like a group of kindergartners.

"Alright.  This is the story of a handsome minstrel and his three no-good, back-stabbing, tone-deaf stepbrothers..." began Rembrandt, but he was interrupted by Logan who had fought her way through the crowd... literally in some cases.

"There you are!  The wizard's been looking for you.  We're supposed to dine with the king tonight, remember?"

"Gee, guess I lost track of time.  To be continued, folks," said Rembrandt.

"Awwww," the crowd collectively sighed.  They dispersed as Rembrandt departed, but Winnie followed him with his eyes.  "To heck with becoming a knight.  I want to be a bard just like him."

-----

"So then I said to Sir Chauncey, 'That's not a gauntlet.  THIS is a gauntlet!'"

King Percival slapped his knee and laughed heartily, completely amused with his own anecdote.  Lindsay smiled wearily, "Good one, your majesty."

The king had been regaling his dinner party with tales of nonsense for what seemed like a fortnight.  They weren't even vaguely entertaining, with the possible exception of Sir Anson's misadventure with a jousting pole.  Logan had nearly nodded off twice, resorting to splashing dabs of wine on her face to keep lively.  The entire assembly of twenty odd knights and ladies was visibly suffering.  With the king basking in his own sense of oratory, Sir Lindsay took the opportunity to change the subject.

"While we could listen to you the rest of the night, my lord, I think we should honor our guest, the Wizard Arturo, by allowing him to show off his craft."

"Oh yes, yes indeed!  I have looked very forward to this, Wizard Artoto," said Percival earnestly.

"With pleasure, your grace," Arturo said, swallowing his contempt.  "Shall we adjourn to the courtyard?  I feel the display will be greater... and safer... out of doors."

The guests were more than willing to get away from that oppressive dining room and stretch their legs.  As they shuffled out, Rembrandt whispered to Arturo softly, "What are you going to do?"

"You were right earlier, Rembrandt.  With a crowd like this, Mr. Wizard's antics will go over just as well as anything a 'true' wizard would be expected to do," said Arturo.

"In English, Professor."

"He's going to blind them with science, Rembrandt," said Logan, rubbing her eyes.  "Wow, this wine stings..."

Wesley's page Winfred had set everything up as requested in the courtyard.  Arturo's presentation would be admittedly crude given the quality of materials he had to work with, but he hoped effective.

"My lord, knights, ladies, assorted servants, tonight I present to you... the dark art of chemistry," said Arturo ominously.  The assembled were suitably impressed.  "It is but a trifling sample of my power, but I hope it pleases you.  Torch!"

Winnie handed him a torch and Arturo lit the first fuse.  After a few seconds, there was a crackling noise and a small rocket bolted into the sky.  A few moments later it exploded, dropping a shower of white sparks on the crowd below.  They were completely blown away.  A few even dropped to the ground trying to avoid the harmless fallout.

"Fireworks?" Rembrandt said softly to Logan.

"Simple rule when dealing with a large mass - appeal to the lowest common denominator.  People like seeing stuff blow up," said Logan.

Rembrandt couldn't disagree with that logic.  After all, it's the only thing that explained Sylvester Stallone's continuing career.

After the initial scare, the king and company were delighted.  "More! More!" they chanted, and Arturo obliged with a series of follow-ups.  Logan and Rembrandt congratulated him on his triumph.  "Looks like you're a full-fledged wizard now?  What are you going to do for an encore?"

"I was thinking fun with baking soda," said Arturo with a chuckle.

But at least one of the attendees was displeased with the wizard's performance.  While the others stood enraptured with the display of light, the grim Sir Yancy pulled Arturo aside.

"Your little light show may be enough to captivate the dimwits of this court, but it will take far more to impress me.  If you are indeed a true wizard, you will strike down that tower over there," Sir Yancy pointed to a lookout tower on the south side of the castle.

Arturo hedged, "I will not participate in the senseless destruction of a perfectly good tower."

"Surely, you can work your 'chemistries' to rebuild it," Yancy pressed.  In the absence of new distractions, the courtyard had taken notice of Yancy's challenge.  Arturo made no move, looking to the others for suggestions.  Yancy wasted no time.

"Fraud!" declared Yancy, drawing his sword.  "This man is no wizard.  To the gallows with him!"

There was a grumbling among the courtyard.  Yancy's words had incited them and they now demanded a new feat.  If only the timers had more juice, Arturo could have given them a feat none would soon forget.  Alas, that option was two-hundred-thirteen hours away.  As he looked about frantically, a spark of light caught his eye.  High above, a shooting star streaked across the night sky.  He was tempted to make a wish that they had never slid here, but he got something better - sudden inspiration.

"Infidel!" cried Arturo at Yancy, taking the knight aback.  "You dare challenge the great Wizard Arturo?  For your insolence, I will work a horrible punishment.  In seven days' time, I shall make the stars fall from the sky!"

And that silenced the courtyard right quickly.  Even Logan and Rembrandt were stunned by the wild promise.  As soon as the words escaped his lips, Arturo wanted to smack himself upside the head.

-----

At the request of the king, Sir Wesley gave the Wizard Arturo and his companions the grand tour of the kingdom the following day.  The kingdom itself was smaller than one might imagine, taking up a mere fraction of what would be known as the Sierra Nevada Mountains.  But it still would take days to show it off acre by acre.  Rather, Wesley led them to a sentry point high above the canyon and pointed out the features of this land.  From their vantage, they looked down upon the castle that served as the seat of this small country.

"Look below you," said Wesley, pointing to the castle.  "This land was fought for and conquered by King Percival the First, lo some five score years ago.  It was he who recognized the strategic advantages of a castle in the canyon.  He was a great and wise leader."

"No doubt.  So how does Percival the Fourth stack up with Percival the First?" asked Rembrandt, leaning on the rail.

"Well, he's not quite as good as the first of his line..."

"As good as his grandfather, then?"

"I wouldn't go quite so far..."

"How 'bout Percy the Third?" pushed Rembrandt.

"I'd say he is definitely superior to King Percival the Third," said Wesley.  "Of course, his reign was cut short after a mere six days by an unfortunate run-in with a javelin..."

"That's not saying much, Sir Wesley," said Arturo, increasingly alarmed.  "Is he good for anything?"

"Oh, most certainly!  Sure, we would have lost our last two wars had it not been for the skills and strategies of Sir Lindsay and Sir Yancy.  And yes, his relations with the common people are strained a bit.  During the last bread shortage, he certainly shouldn't have declared, 'Let them eat manure!' sparking that two week rebellion.  But all and all, he's a good king," nodded Wesley assuredly.

"If he is such a great king, then what role am I, as wizard, supposed to fulfill?" asked Arturo.

"Why, to do wizard things!" replied Wesley.

"Naturally," said Logan.  Arturo shot her a dirty look.

"We've seen many wizards come and go in the past few years, none of them really quite panning out though.  Some have been complete farces.  Why, last year, we had a man who claimed to be able to turn useless metal like gold into valuable commodities such as lead.  All false, of course, and easily exposed."

"And what happened to him?"

"We had him beheaded, of course," said Wesley as if it were nothing.  Arturo gripped the railing tightly.

"I'm going up over the ridge to get a better look.  You guys coming?" asked Logan.

"I will follow momentarily, my lady.  Just allow me a few words with the wizard," said Wesley with a slight bow.  Once she was out of earshot, Wesley turned to Arturo, who was still clinging to the rail.

"Forgive me, my lord, for this is awkward.  I was wondering... well, is the Lady Logan... er... what I mean to say... is... um... is she... available?"

"Available?  What, for parties?" asked Arturo, knowing full well what Wesley was asking.  The knight had been fawning over her since the moment they arrived.  It was sort of funny to him.  Superficially, he knew Logan was attractive.  However, none of them saw her that way.  They knew her inside too well.

"Her relationship to you is unclear.  Is she... spoken for?"

That, however, was unexpected.  Rembrandt burst out laughing and even Arturo blushed.  "You think she's married to him?  Haw haw!  Wait 'til Maggie and Wade hear this one!" he said, slapping his thigh.

"Control yourself, Bard.  Don't make me change you into a toad," said Arturo.  Turning his full attention to the befuddled Wesley, he said, "My relationship with the Lady Logan is nothing more than that of traveling companion.  She is, I suppose you could say, family to someone dear to me.  Consider me a protectorate, nothing more."

"In that case, my lord, I would like your permission to court the lady," said Wesley in earnest.  Arturo raised an eyebrow.

"Are you sure you want to do that?  The Lady Logan is... passionate, to say the least," said Arturo.

"Yeah, she's kind of a bitch," added Rembrandt.

"Bitch?" asked Wesley.  "I'm not familiar with that term."

"Keep it in mind," said Rembrandt with a wink.  He slapped Wesley on the back, adding, "If you want the Lady Logan, I say go for it, stud!"

"It's fine by me, Sir Wesley," agreed Arturo mischievously.  "In fact, a man of your character and good breeding may be just the thing she needs."

Wesley stood tall hearing praise from the wizard.  "Thank you, my lord! I shall do my best to woo her!"

After Wesley departed to join Logan, Arturo let out a hearty laugh.  "Now the shoe is on the other foot, Mr. Brown.  It's about time we get to cause trouble for her.  And hopefully assigning a knight to her will keep her out of additional trouble."

"Nice guy," remarked Rembrandt, referring to Wesley.  "He has no idea what he just took on.  Poor deluded bastard...  Speaking of delusions, you mind running by me how you expect to follow through on your little stunt last night?  It's not like you can just make meteors falls from the sky."

"First off, meteors don't fall from the sky.  'Meteor' is the term used for the flash of light.  'Meteorites' are the ones that make it to the ground.  Second, despite everything I've seen since I started sliding, one thing has always remained constant - the heavens," said Arturo, pointing to the sky.  "And every year, the Earth enters a debris field of comet remnants known as the Eta Aquarid meteor showers.  They should be at their apex in one week's time."

"Yeah, but what if they don't show?" cautioned Rembrandt.  "Before you joined us, we slid onto a planet with three earths in the same orbit."

"Oh yes, right about the same time you encountered that earth with rock and roll vampires," the professor sneered dismissively.

Rembrandt shrugged.  "Hey, I didn't choose them.  But I still don't see how this helps us."

Arturo chuckled, "I've told the king that I know a way to shield the earth with an 'atmosphere' to burn the stars up as they fall.  That is, of course, assuming there are no more challenges to my credibility. Meantime, they all think I'm the only thing that stands between them and oblivion."

"Pretty shrewd, although there goes your stand against magical nonsense," replied Rembrandt.

"Self-preservation, Mr. Brown.  It couldn't be helped."

"What do you suppose'll happen if they find out you're making it all up?"

-----

"Then we'll kill him," Yancy said before the Council of Knights.

"If it comes to it, Yancy, but I doubt it will be necessary.  The king is but a nuisance.  If we give him enough things to keep him busy, he'll stay out of our way," Lindsay answered.  Power was power, but the killing of a king was not something to take lightly.

"We could set up a new system where the king keeps his throne but is stripped of his gubernatorial duties," opined Chauncey.  "These duties would be given over to an assembly of lords and an assembly of commoners, whom together would craft a set of rules, or constitution, to guide the land."

"That's the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard!" Lindsay exclaimed.  "You can keep your 'constitutional monarchies,' I'll stick with wizards, thank you.  That brings us to our next item on the agenda.  Let me begin by saying last night was an unqualified success."

Yancy smiled at that.  "I daresay I played my part well?"

"Marvelously.  And our 'wizard' rose to the challenge.  He showed remarkable poise in the face of your threat.  I nearly lost it when he called you an infidel!" said Lindsay, obviously quite pleased.  "The people are absolutely lapping him up.  His approval ratings amongst single male shepherds are already sky high and he practically owns the urban village areas.  Considering very few of them have seen his work or even met him, I'd say we've caught ourselves a phenomenon."

"I was just thankful he didn't make you disappear, Yancy," Anson said earnestly.

"Yes, Anson, as was I," Yancy dryly replied.  "This Arturo is obviously learned.  However, we do not know his purposes.  What if he chooses to seize power for himself?"

"Pah," spat back Lindsay.  "The only power he has is the power we choose to give him.  I say we continue this experiment and see how the commoners respond."

"And if he refuses to play along?" demanded Yancy.  Lindsay scoffed.

"Refuses?  We're offering him the kingdom!  Everything he could possibly want will be provided.  The only catch is that he has to do exactly what we tell him to do.  It's a more than fair exchange.  Who would possibly refuse?" sneered the First Knight.  "All right, enough of this.  Next on the agenda is a personal request from the Bard Brown.  Hmm... I wonder what he means by 'pooper-scooper'..."

-----

There was quite a ruckus in the marketplace the morning the great wizard visited.  Everyone wanted to behold him for themselves, yet their sense of self-preservation kept them at arms-length.  As Arturo strolled past the stands, a ten-foot circle of space was maintained between him and the common folk.  Only one page was insolent enough to break the forbidden diameter - a would be minstrel by the name of Winnie.

"His depth of skills goes deep beyond what any fox could burrow.
There is no man worthy to stand beside the great Arturo!

When casting spells, his eyes burn bright, his brow so neatly furrowed.
With sounds of bells, it's quite the sight, the might of one Arturo!

With his cloak of wool and his wand of tin
He chastises fools so the righteous win.
With these magic words through myst'ry he cuts
'Away, you blistering idiots...'"

"Confound it, boy!  Isn't there a ditch you could be digging?" the professor bellowed before Winnie could come up with more words that rhymed with 'Arturo.'

"Hey, Professor!" Rembrandt was parting the crowd to get through.

"Thank heavens, Mister, I mean, Bard Brown!  Would you be so kind as to rid me of my minstrel?" growled Arturo.

"Hey, Winnie, take five," said Rembrandt.

"Five?" the boy innocently replied.

"You know, take five.  A breather.  A break."  Rembrandt wasn't getting through.  "Tell you what, I need to talk to the professor... wizard... right now.  Why don't I meet up with you later and I can work with you on your song?"

"You'd do that for me?" asked Winnie excitedly.

"What choice do I have?  I leave you singing like that and it could set back popular music a thousand years," said Rembrandt, softly adding, "On top of the thousand years it's already behind."

"Oh, thank you, Bard Brown, thank you!"

"No sweat, Winnie.  They don't call me the Bard for nothing.  If I can't make a minstrel out of you, no one can," said Rembrandt as the boy ran off.

"I suppose I have you to thank for this madness," said Arturo, spinning slightly to point out his crowd of gawkers.  "Been telling tall tales, have we?"

"There are some embellishments here and there, but mostly it's the truth," said Rembrandt.

"These people can't handle the truth!  You've created quite a row amongst the commoners.  My reputation precedes me now wherever I go.  I have people coming up to me, asking me to bring inanimate objects to life and heal the sick.  I need not remind you that these accomplishments are not my own, but that of my double," said Arturo.

"I know, I guess I got carried away," said Rembrandt.  "But it wouldn't be any different had I said nothing.  You've got something these people don't understand.  They're going to want to know."

"Hmm. I've been thinking much the same thing.  I wonder..." pondered Arturo, "would it be so wrong to attempt to educate them."

"Excuse me?"

"If I'm stuck playing the role of wizard for the next week, I should at least do some good with the part."

"Sounds like someone is enjoying his new found fame," warned Rembrandt.

"No, no, no.  Right now I despise you all," assuaged Arturo.  "But since I have to go through with this, why not answer my true calling and teach?  There is so much natural magic out there.  If I could just open a window for them, perhaps I could help them circumvent their inevitable descent into the darkness of horoscopes and psychic hotlines."

Rembrandt chuckled.  "You mean help a world?  That's a novel idea.  Logan won't be pleased."

"A: I don't care what Logan thinks or wants," Arturo said, wagging a finger.  "And B: She should be more than occupied with her suitor to pay much attention to what we're up to."

"I'll bet," answered Rembrandt, shuddering to think what she'd do to that poor boy.

-----

Logan stared at the man sitting across from her at the table.  Her date.  She said it to herself again.  Date.  Logan St. Clair did not date.  Logan St. Clair did not court.  So why was she here?

Probably because he wasn't bad to look at. Wesley had long, sandy-blond hair, not shoulder length like some of the other knights, but enough to fall across his face and cover his pale blue eyes.  Though he must have been at least twenty-five, he still had a very boyish face.  It looked like he was trying to grow a beard, but his light hair left him with glorified peach fuzz.  But he was a knight and had the body to match his profession.  All and all, he was a prime catch.  Now if only he had any table manners...

"Mould joo like mo goat?" he asked, mouth full of food.  Logan cringed and shook her head.  Wesley slurped some grease from his fingers and wiped his hands on his trousers.  He chased his goat with a big swig of wine, which he swished around in his mouth for a few seconds before swallowing.  His meal complete, he reclined in his chair and let out a hearty belch.  "Braaaaap!  Ahhh... what a fine dinner.  You look like you barely touched yours.  Was it not to your liking?"

"It was fine. I, uh, just wasn't that hungry," she said to her oblivious date.  They shared an awkward moment as neither knew how to proceed with the conversation.  Logan fiddled with her goblet.  Finally, Wesley thought of something to say.

"The Bard Brown tells me you're a bitch," he cheerfully uttered.  Logan's jaw dropped, but Wesley continued undaunted.  "What is that like?"

"It has its moments," said Logan slowly.

"The Bard Brown seems like a very nice man," said Wesley.

"Oh yes, he's quite a prick," replied Logan pleasantly.

"Prick?" inquired Wesley.

"It's a term of endearment where I come from.  You should use it some time.  See if it catches on," smirked Logan.

"I will do that," said Wesley enthusiastically.  Logan laughed and Wesley felt encouraged.

"Tell me, Wesley, what do we do now?" she playfully asked.

"Now?  Well, I thought we might take a walk along the castle walls.  The sun will be setting soon and we could watch it together," said Wesley.

"That sounds nice and all, but I was thinking of something a little more... exciting," she said, raising an eyebrow.  Wesley's eyebrows also raised.

"What did you... um... have in mind?"

-----

"Bull's-eye!" Logan cried out.  "Your prowess is unsurpassed, Sir Wesley."

"I have worked long and hard at it," replied Wesley.  Logan's idea of fun was a trip to the archery range.  Fortunately, archery was the knight's specialty as he ranked second in skill to only the general, Sir Yancy.  Wesley was displaying his considerable abilities and had put four of his five arrows dead in the center of the target.  He bowed slightly for her.  Logan clapped.

"Now it's my turn," she said, reaching for the bow.  Wesley laughed.  "You're very enthusiastic, Lady Logan, but your dainty hands were not meant to hold a quiver."

She grabbed his bow.  He refused to release it.  "What's the matter, Sir Wesley?  Afraid I may show you up?"

"Certainly not!  It's just most... unladylike," stammered Wesley.

"You're not dealing with just any lady," she smiled.  Wesley released the bow into her hands.  Logan removed an arrow from his quiver, making sure to rub up against him slightly in the process.  Wesley blushed.

To his amazement, Logan bent the bow and took aim.  She fired... and shot wide of the target by about fourteen feet.  Wesley couldn't help but chuckle, but Logan did not seem annoyed.  "Oh darn! I missed," she said, giving Wesley her best puppy-dog eyes.

"That's because your form is all wrong.  Here, let me help," he said, standing behind her.  "First, you need better foot position.  Place your legs like mine.  Good.  Now," he said, putting his arm around her to get a grip on the bow, "draw the bow back like this."

Logan immediately dropped the bow as Wesley's arm scraped the concealed timer.

Wesley picked it up, smiling smugly, "I told you a bow is a difficult weapon to handle."

"Yes," she said, her face flush.  "What ever was I thinking?"

-----

"So if I divide my sheep by thirty percent, and deduct two percent for having eleven dependents, my total tribute to the king is... a bushel of grain, two chickens, and my third born!" exclaimed the peasant.

"Precisely!" congratulated Arturo.  "Well done, Mr. Donner.  You have made your first step toward mastery of arithmetic.  And as reward, we'll even knock off your third born from the equation."

"She looked sickly anyway," agreed Sir Lindsay, who had requested his wizard join him on a special collection run.  With incoming revenue down a third straight season, the Council of Knights had voted to make taxes a bi-seasonal event.

As they departed the shack of the peasant Donner, Sir Lindsay confided to Arturo, "I must say, Wizard, you have far exceeded my expectations.  With the peasants doing their own taxes, we can concentrate our resources on auditing them and fining them heavily for any mistakes made regardless of who makes them.  This will be a great boon to the treasury!"

"While I appreciate your praise, my role here is not to find and new an inventive ways to turn the screws on the populace.  Rather by increasing their intellectual capacity, they will find their own ways to stimulate the economy leading to increase revenues for all," explained Arturo.

"Well we need something," responded Lindsay.

"Forgive me if I am out of line, but I've gotten the impression that all is not well in the kingdom."

The first knight grimaced.  "I'm afraid there is some truth to that.  The people are lost under Percival.  In age, the king may be a score and ten years, but he is but a child.  He is more concerned with amusing himself than protecting and building upon what his father's fathers have won.  The neighboring kingdoms are starting to encroach.  We are vulnerable."

"If the Percival line of leadership is so inept, why have you allowed it to propagate?" asked Arturo.

"Ahhh... you see it too!  Why must we hand a throne to a man merely because his father was king?  Where is it written in stone that this is the natural order of things?  It is a foolish and contemptible system of rule," said Lindsay passionately.

"I agree.  Those best prepared for the job - men of ability - should be the true heirs to the seat of government, not some fluke of birth," answered Arturo, eerily echoing the words of Sir Yancy.

"Exactly.  Men of ability!  Men like you and me," Lindsay said, staring straight at Arturo.

-----

The week went by remarkably smoothly all things considered.  Arturo's threat seemed to have done the trick as Sir Yancy was muzzled by his fellow knights.  Sir Lindsay continued to show off his wizard throughout the kingdom and the hordes of peasants swarmed around him.  Everywhere he went, the professor tried to impart a little bit of pure science to those who had come to see him, primarily basic physical mechanics and simple mathematics.

Rembrandt usually accompanied Arturo, telling sliding adventures all the while.  His stories now included the Mage Mallory, the Princess Wade, and the greatest female knight of all-time, Maggie the Red-Tempered.  When apart from the professor, Rembrandt tried to give Winnie as much help as he could, even taking him along one day just to see how far he could push Arturo before he exploded.

Neither saw too much of Logan.  Wesley was pulling out all the stops in his wooing of her, and he occupied most of her time.  For her part, she was enjoying herself immensely.  They spent their days riding, playing as many sports or games as she could find, and quite a bit of time on the archery range.  It was nice having someone treating her so well for once.  She knew the treatment she got from her sliding companions was pretty much deserved, but it still grew tiresome after a while.  Wesley knew nothing of her past and he didn't care.

But she could not shake a fundamental uneasiness over the whole situation.  Why hadn't he gone for her pants yet?  This was a different kind of guy than the type she was used to.  Even Quinn kissed her with little resistance.  Of course, that was all before... now things were worse.  Much worse.

On the one day the three traveled together, they came upon a geyser on the fringe of Kings Canyon.  As the water fell down around them, Arturo expressed his contentment.  "This is what it's all about," he said.

"Water pressure?" asked Rembrandt.

"No, no, not the geyser.  This!  All of this!  This is what sliding should be," he affirmed.  "Exploring new lands and new cultures, not running from killer apes and fighting our own doubles."

"Don't be naïve, Max.  Just take your respites when you can get them," Logan said.

"It's almost a shame we have to move on so soon.  There is so much we could show this world.  Despite their outward appearances, the people of this land are reasonably intelligent.  Given some guidance, they could begin to make some real strides," lamented Arturo.

"Woah, hold on there, Sir Boss!" exclaimed Rembrandt.  "Helping out is one thing, imposing a new world order is another.  Besides, we've got friends waiting for us."

"Of course you're right, Rembrandt.  I suppose it's just the robe and cape talking," the professor acknowledged with a laugh, but his voice lacked conviction.

"Wizard!" came a cry from the other side.  "I need your assistance.  Why is the rain falling upside down?  Is this your doing?  You must stop this at once!"

"Coming, my liege," Arturo groaned.  As he departed, the others could hear him mutter, "Idiot..."

"We may have to watch that man.  His ego's starting to get out of control again," Rembrandt said, laying up Logan for the witty one-timer.  But she passed with a, "Mmm-hmmm."

"That's not the Logan I know.  Looks like our Sir Wesley has you a little preoccupied," chuckled Rembrandt.  "He's not a Max Arturo, but I suppose he'll do."

"Don't you worry.  Wesley has been nothing but a gentlemen.  He won't even touch my shoulder without asking permission first," Logan bristled.

"Yeah, like you aren't giving permission," Rembrandt joked, but Logan did not laugh.  She didn't even get angry.  She just kept her head down.  It was then Rembrandt ventured to do what was previously unthinkable.  He asked her if she was alright.

"Is something wrong, Logan?  I know we're not the best of friends, but if you've got something to say, I'll do my best to listen."

"You can't understand," she said, but she didn't look up at him.

"I may surprise you.  I've been doing this sliding gig longer than you," Rembrandt said.

"Yeah, but you don't have to do it with this," she said, pulling back her sleeve.  Rembrandt looked at the timer implanted in her arm.  He'd never looked at it closely before, he'd just sort of accepted it.  The timer was attached to Logan.  End of discussion.  Never once did it cross his mind how she felt about it or how he'd feel had it happened to him.

Logan thought about it all the time.

For a few moments, Rembrandt struggled with anything to say.  "He doesn't have to see it."

"He's not going to see it," was her curt reply.

"Would it be so bad if he did?" Rembrandt probed.

Logan was appalled by the suggestion.  "Are you out of your mind?  If Wesley, if ANYONE, saw this here, I don't think even the Wizard Arturo could save us.  I'm not going to let him know that I'm a freak.  I'm not going to let him tell all his friends..."

"What the hell are you talking about?"

"Nothing," she quickly said.  "Nothing.  Let's just forget it."

"We slide in two days, Logan," Rembrandt said, taking note of the exposed timer.  "What are you going to tell him?"

Logan caught his glance and covered her arm.

-----

Finally the day had come for Arturo's big show.  In anticipation of the event, King Percival the Fourth had invited the wizard and his companions to join him for his daily ride. Logan had been leading them at a particularly hard pace.  She had been tearing across the open countryside all morning, keeping a good distance between herself and the others.

"She's wearing me out," panted the King.  "I don't think I can go any farther!"

Sir Lindsay looked at him with glazed-over eyes.  "You are on a horse, my liege."

"Come on, your Highness, we can catch her!" exclaimed Rembrandt as he and the king launched after Logan.  Arturo and Lindsay slowed to a trot.

"The entire kingdom eagerly awaits your performance tonight," Lindsay began.  "The practice stars you have dropped these past few days have only increased their interest."

Arturo was tempted to laugh, but something about the knight's tone concerned him.  "Yes, well, we wizards know how to captivate an audience."

"Well done.  After tonight, your ascension will be complete."

"Excuse me?" Arturo asked.

"Your promotion to head of the kingdom, of course.  Well, figure head anyway.  You'll need not concern yourself with the daily duties, but we will need you to make token appearances and wave to the people from on high occasionally," Lindsay explained.

"Sir Lindsay, I am deeply honored by the faith you place me.  And I must admit, the opportunity to lead my fellow men is a position I have always sought.  Unfortunately, my friends and I are but passing through this kingdom," responded Arturo.  "I'm sorry, Lindsay, but I'm afraid I must decline."

The First Knight was floored by his wizard's response.  Never in a million years did he think anyone in his right mind would decline such an offer, especially from a man without rank.  "What?! Where could you go that would take precedence over here?"

"Realms you cannot possibly imagine," said Arturo.  "A wizard's work is never done."

"Spare me the wizard routine," snarled Lindsay.  "You can fool that dullard Percival, but don't presume you can outsmart me.  I sized you up from the moment you walked into that throne room.  It is by my good graces alone that prevented Sir Yancy from having your head.  You owe me, sir."

"Owe you?  I owe you nothing!" exclaimed the outraged professor.

Lindsay backpedaled a bit.  "Fine, if not me, then you certainly owe this kingdom something.  My knights and I can run it, but we can't make the people do our bidding.  That power only belongs to the king.  He has failed.  So now I look to the wizard.  They love you, respect you.  Will you let them down in their time of need?"

Arturo was pained.  On the one hand, Lindsay was right.  This kingdom, and the people of it, was in for hard times ahead under Percival.  But he had obligations elsewhere.

"My duty prevents me from staying.  You'll have to find some other man.  Now if you'll excuse me, I have one last performance to attend to," said Arturo abruptly, immediately galloping off towards his companions.

Lindsay sat on his horse, fuming.  His plans were unraveled.  The Council would have to be assembled.

-----

A throng of commoners descended upon the great plain to observe the Wizard Arturo make the stars fall from the sky.  Their constant yammering and hooting disrupted what would otherwise have been a gorgeous, peaceful night.  The weather had favored Arturo and the stars sparkled brightly and without obstruction in the cool evening.  And without any cities and the light they emit, one could see everything the vastness of space had to offer.

"This is how the stars were meant to be viewed," said Logan, craning her neck back to take in as much sky as possible.  She and Arturo were on top of a small hill overlooking the plain, along with the king and the rest of the upper class.

"Living in San Angeles, there was always so much light pollution that you could barely make out Ursa Major... that's the Big Dipper," said Logan.

"I'm well aware of its name," huffed Arturo.  "I've been studying the skies since long before you were even conceived."

"I remember staying up late until the mandatory two a.m. blackouts, just to get a glimpse of seeing the sky the way our ancestors did," she continued.  "These people don't know how fortunate they are to have this."

"I agree," nodded Arturo.  "Possibly the greatest crime of the industrial revolution was its theft of the night sky.  It is a terrible price to pay for the convenience of electricity.  Who knows how much inspiration was gained by our forefathers just by gazing upwards... and how much has been lost now that we are deprived of it."

A small commotion across the plain brought their eyes back to earth.  From their perspective, it looked like a peasant had somehow managed to light himself on fire with the primitive fireworks that had proliferated since Arturo had introduced them.  Logan sighed.  "I guess it will always be lost on some people."

While his friends and family were putting the man out, Rembrandt strolled up to his two traveling companions.

"Hey, hey!" greeted Rembrandt.

"Bard Brown, how nice of you to join us," chided Logan.

"I've been busy spreading the good word of our good friend the wizard here," answered Rembrandt.

"Please, these people love him so much already that it's sickening.  They've even taken up smoking cigars so they can be more like Arturo," smirked Logan.

"Yes, except tobacco doesn't grow in these parts," said Arturo.

"Then what are they smoking?" asked Rembrandt.

"Common pieces of wood," replied Arturo, waving to the dim lights of the smokers, where 'cigars' had become particularly popular among the knights.

"So that explains the fresh smell of pine," sniffed Rembrandt.

"I figure it can't be any worse for their lungs than the real thing," shrugged Arturo. "Although I'll be damned if I can figure out how they derive any enjoyment from it."

"Hey, the kids just want to be cool like the wizard," laughed Rembrandt as the sounds of coughing filled the night air.

The Eta Aquarid meteor showers put on quite a show, averaging one shooting star every two minutes over a three-hour span.  The professor declared that from this day forward, the stars would fall each year at this time to commemorate his accomplishment.  He was going to claim credit for the Geminid meteor showers in December as well, but decided to leave that for another unsuspecting slider.

King Percival was ecstatic with his wizard, but he did have his concerns.  "Wizard, if each year you make the stars fall, soon we may have none left.  I'm afraid that's completely unacceptable."

"Oh don't worry, your majesty, I'd say it will be a good ten billion years before we start running out of stars," assuaged the professor.  "But just to be on the safe side, why don't you make a list of the stars you'd like to keep and I'll make sure they remain unharmed."

The King was pleased with this plan and immediately began to search the sky for his favorites.

"That should keep him occupied awhile..." Arturo said as he once again looked over the people.  After a particularly quick succession of shooting stars, a large cry came up from the audience, followed by a slow but steady chant of 'Arturo...Arturo...Arturo...'

His pride swelled at the sound of his name.  Sir Lindsay was right about one thing.  The people did love him.  They did respect him.

What if he stayed behind?  His odds of ever returning home were astronomically poor.  Besides, didn't he have all the fame any man could hope for here?  Who needed sliding?  It wasn't his invention anyway.

Yes, he could tell Lindsay that he had changed his mind.  He could lead this kingdom and he would create a society advanced far beyond its current capability.  He could purge their minds of pseudo-scientific nonsense and instill in them the wonder and curiosity of the ancient Greek civilization - pantheon of inane gods excluded, of course.  He could do it all.  He would do it all!  But his daydream was shattered as he turned and saw his two companions.

Logan and Rembrandt were still quietly admiring the cool night.  The professor's mind burned at the thought of leaving poor Rembrandt, Wade, and Maggie at the mercy of Logan.  Without him in the way, she'd turn on and abandon them the first chance she got.  Arturo's hand subconsciously reached for the second timer buried deep beneath his robe.  He was the check that provided balance to this unit.  He could not leave them.

So he'd have to leave here.

-----

"I miscalculated."

"That's an understatement!"

Lindsay and Yancy were in each other's faces.  An emergency meeting of the Council of Knights had been called to decide the next course of action now that their wizard was abandoning them.

"I knew better than to follow this asinine plan.  Now we've got a king we can control that everyone hates and an out of control wizard that is beloved.  Brilliant strategy, Lindsay," fumed Yancy.

"Let's not be overly dramatic, Yancy.  We built him up in the eyes of the kingdom; we can tear him down," replied the First Knight.

"Don't be so sure of that," said Sir Chauncey.  "He is more feared and revered than any man I've ever heard of, and that includes Millhouse the Terrible from the southern lands of Bakersfield."

"Perhaps we can convince him to stay," offered Anson.  "We could build him his own tower!"

"Or maybe we could bury him beneath one," said Yancy with a slight yet awful grin that said all he needed to say.

Lindsay made no reply.

-----

The castle walls had become their rendezvous point for the past week, but Logan ascended the stone staircase with a heavy heart.  The day of the slide.  Time to move on.  Time to leave Wesley behind.

It wasn't the end of the world.  She certainly didn't love him.  But it had been a while since a man had paid her this much attention, and she wondered when the next time might be.  Logan looked at her arm, which had remained covered in his presence at all times.  The anger welled up in her once again, an anger so old now that it no longer needed its original source to thrive.

"My lady, why do you look so sad?" asked Wesley tenderly.  Here it was.  The awful moment of truth.

Logan reached back into her mind for the words she'd rehearsed, but what was the point?  She sputtered, "I have to go."

Wesley reached for her to stop her from turning away.  "What for?  Did I say something wrong?"

"No," she sighed.  "I mean, I have to go away for good.  It's time for us... the wizard, bard, and myself, to move on."

"But why?" Wesley pleaded.

'Because I don't belong here,' Logan thought.  'I don't belong anywhere.'

"It's what we do," she said simply.

Before Wesley could press further, Sir Yancy approached them from behind.

"Lady Logan, I hear you are leaving us.  And after all our hospitality," said Yancy, politely but cold.

"That's right.  The wizard's work here is done," replied Logan.

"I'll be the judge of when his work is done," he said tersely.  "Wesley, leave us."

"I'm not leaving her side until she departs," said Wesley firmly.  He was slightly alarmed by his general's tone and was not going to let Logan out of his sight.  Logan didn't say anything, but privately she was touched by his fealty.

"Conveniently, she's departing now," said Yancy, drawing his sword.  Wesley was caught off guard and never stood a chance against the superior swordsman.  Yancy struck him across the head with the blunt side of his sword, knocking Wesley out.  Logan stepped back, horrified.

"You killed him!" she screamed.

"He'll survive.  As for you," Yancy said, staring at her without emotion.  Logan took another step back, but her foot nearly slipped off the edge of the staircase.

Essentially cornered, her defiance flared up.  "Haven't you ever heard of chivalry?"

"Quite honestly, no," he said.  It was the last thing Logan heard for a while.

-----

Arturo folded up his hideous robe that made him look more like a lounge singer than an all-powerful wizard.  As ridiculous as it looked, he had grown quite fond of it over the nine days he had worn it.  But fond or not, he would be damned if he slid onto the next world with it still on his back.  He did have his dignity.

"Almost ready, Professor?" asked Rembrandt from the door.  He had also abandoned his woolen suits and was back in his original clothes.

"Almost," he said, lifting up his wizard's cap and removing a stray hair from it.  He placed it neatly on top of his robe.

"You got pretty attached to this world, huh?"

"More than I would have thought possible.  It may be a nation of backward nitwits, but at least they were endearing nitwits," replied Arturo.

"Man, Wade is going to be so mad when they hear what she missed. Although not half as mad as Maggie will be when she learns Logan has a new weapon to play with," said Rembrandt in reference to Logan's archery lessons.

"Wizard Arturo!" broke in Winnie, pushing Rembrandt through the door.  He looked as if he had run a marathon.  In between pants, he declared, "Sir Yancy has taken Lady Logan."

Rembrandt turned to Arturo.  "How much time until the slide?"

"About and hour,” he replied before returning his focus to Winnie.  "Where is he holding her?"

"Sir Wesley suspects he's taken her to his estate, about four miles due west.  The sentinels confirmed seeing him riding in that direction," was the reply.

"We must hurry!" exclaimed Arturo.  "Gather some horses."

"Yes, my lord!" he declared, bolting out of the room.

"What's this all about?" asked Rembrandt, confused by the turn of events.

"I'll fill you in on my suspicions once we're underway.  Come along, Mr. Brown.  As much as I like this world, I'm not prepared to buy a summer home just yet."

"And we do want to rescue Logan too, right?" added Rembrandt.

"If we must, we must."

----

Logan was understandably groggy when she came to, but she was pretty sure she could make out Yancy.  He was bending over something with what appeared to be two swords.  She blinked rapidly, trying to clear her vision.  Those weren't swords.  They were... hedge clippers?

With her head clearing, she now realized she was in a massive flower garden.  Biology was never her specialty, and she couldn't really tell one flower from the other, aside from the roses and carnations.  Pinks, yellows, and reds dominated the flowerbeds, but there were a fair share of violets and periwinkles trimming the perimeter to give an almost rainbow-like effect.  In the midst of these gardens were sculptures made entirely out of bushes and tree branches.  Directly ahead of her were a dragon and a knight, both exquisitely carved and trimmed.  And there was Yancy, hunched over his latest creation - a swan.

Logan thought she was hallucinating.

She must have made a noise because Yancy caught notice of her.  "Don't try to move," he said.  She did anyway, but found herself bound rather tightly to her chair.  However, she wasn't gagged.  There were a hundred things she wanted to say to him, and a thousand more obscenities, but all she could muster was, "Horticulture?"

"What?" said Yancy, clearly miffed by her tone.  "Where is it written that a knight can't like pretty things?"

Logan was suddenly speechless.

-----

When the king had heard what had happened, he insisted on being part of the rescue effort.  Sir Lindsay attempted to dissuade him, but the king shook off that notion.  "And miss all the excitement?  I wouldn't hear of it!"  With the king coming, Lindsay declared it his duty to accompany them.  A bandaged Wesley joined in, swearing vengeance on Yancy if he had done Logan any harm.  His page, Winnie, rounded out the group.

As they rode toward Yancy's estate, Winnie sang,

"To fight the knight, the evil sire, he rode to rescue her, oh!
On steed of wind and hooves of fire, behold the great Artur-o!"

"I thought you said you'd improve him!" declared Arturo to Rembrandt.

"I did!  You hear that pitch?" replied Rembrandt.

Arturo scowled, shouting at Winnie, "One more word out of you and I'll turn your tongue inside out!"

Winnie shut up.

-----

They covered the miles swiftly and the six arrived shortly at Yancy's estate.  Though not a fortress, the large stone walls were impressive.  However, it was the lavish work on the grass and shrubbery that really made the place stand out.

"What is it about men and their lawns?" asked Rembrandt absently as they hitched their horses.

"Quick, where would he be holding her?" asked Arturo of Lindsay.

"Could be anywhere.  I'll take the house with the king and the boy," he said.  "You three try the garden out back."

The six split up.  The last thing Arturo saw before turning the corner of the house was Lindsay charging through the front door.  "Follow me," said Wesley.

The activity out front had not gone unheard by Sir Yancy and he was waiting for them when the three arrived.  He was standing beside the bound Logan, sword raised.

"Unhand her, fiend!" cried out Wesley, rushing forward.

"Save the gallantry, Wesley.  And I'd stand down if you want the lady returned to you with her head," he warned.

"Now be reasonable," cautioned Arturo.  "There are three of us and only one of you... and we don't particularly like the hostage much."

Logan glared at Arturo, but she knew he was bluffing.  Without her, they didn't slide.  He wouldn't risk her.

"Yes, but I can easily defeat the three of you in hand to hand combat.  All at once or individually," Yancy said with a slight bow.

"Just tell me what you want and perhaps we can come to a settlement that is amicable for both parties, hm?"

"I want your hide," replied the grim general.  "We thought we could build in you a cult of personality to rally the kingdom around.  Replace the hated king with the beloved wizard.  But I have grown tired of puppet regimes.  It's time for a true leader to ascend to the throne.  And once I have vanquished the all mighty wizard, the people will have no choice but to fear and elevate me.  It's brilliant actually.  I receive all the benefits without the shame of regicide.

"But there is an alternative to death," said Yancy.

"And what would that be?" asked Arturo.

"Abdicate to me."

"What?" the professor exclaimed, taken aback by the outrageous request.

"Call the kingdom to order.  From the mount, declare before all that I am your chosen successor.  It wouldn't take long to arrange, and it saves me the trouble of killing you to take your fame," said Yancy.

Logan looked at her arm and back to Arturo, mouthing, 'No time.'

"No deal.  If it is a choice between the inept but benign hand of Percival or a scoundrel's such as yourself, I choose the former," said Arturo.  He then removed his lighter from his pocket.

"What do you plan on doing with that?  Throw fire at me?" he scoffed.

"Precisely.  Wesley?"

Wesley drew out the triple crossbow strapped to his back.  Attached to the tip of each arrow was a piece of charcoal soaked in alcohol.  Arturo lit them.

"Poor choice of weaponry.  I don't care how sharp your aim, Wesley.  You fire on me, you risk hitting your lady," Yancy challenged.

"Who said I was aiming for you?"  Wesley turned and fired.

"MY PERENNIALS!" screamed Yancy, as the arrows hit his garden.  "NOOOOOOO!!!!!"

Yancy turned back toward Arturo, wild with rage.  He took one step forward and hurled his sword at him.  Yancy was a master swordsman and his aim was true.  Arturo would have surely been struck dead if a shield hadn't flown in front of him deflecting the sword away.  Everyone turned to his right where the shield had come from.  Standing there was the master defender, Sir Lindsay.

"Am I not the First Knight?" he said.  "I believe in order, but I will not stoop so low to get it."  Livid, an unarmed Yancy charged at Lindsay.  He didn't make it past his prize petunias.  The First Knight struck him down with his sword, thus ridding himself of an adversary and concealing a conspiracy.

"Poor Yancy," said Lindsay with only the slightest twinge of remorse. "He never realized that you don't need the throne to hold all the power."

"Did I miss anything?" puffed King Percival, finally arriving on the scene with Winnie in tow.  Lindsay glared at Arturo, challenging him with his piercing brown eyes.

"One of your top knights was plotting against you, my liege," said Arturo, leaving it at that.

Wesley rushed to Logan to untie her while Rembrandt joined Winnie and Percival in stamping out the garden fire Wesley had started.

"Are you all right?" Wesley asked, softly touching the bump on Logan's head.  She nodded.  Once her hands were free, she also delicately ran her fingers over Wesley's bruise.  Then their lips met.  It was her initiative.

Arturo cleared his throat.  "Miss St. Clair, I believe it's time we departed."

Logan slowly broke away from Wesley, giving him a broad smile.  Then she slinked her way behind Arturo to check the timer.  It read six seconds.

"It'll have to be here," she said.  The professor quietly slipped her the second timer and she opened the vortex directly behind Arturo.  The men of this world stared in awe as the swirling light danced behind him.

"I'll be damned," said Lindsay.  "He truly is a wizard."

"Not wizardry, Sir Lindsay.  Just another one of my sciences.  This one is known as the forbidden art of quantum physics," said Arturo.

"If only we'd kept it forbidden," grumbled Rembrandt.  He gave Winnie a pat on the back.  "So long, kid.  You're the lead minstrel now.  If nothing else, you've got the rhyme part down!"

Rembrandt slid, leaving Arturo to address his king for the last time.

"So long, your majesty.  Let this be a lesson to you.  True leaders are forged by deed, not by birth," he said to Percival.

"I will never forget you, Wizard Artoto!" Percival declared.

Wesley added, "You are a great prick!"

Arturo scowled, immediately guessing the source of Wesley's new vocabulary.  "Logan!" he cried, turning an accusing finger.  But he found himself pointing at the vortex.  Logan was already gone.

-----

The following week, the War Room was filled with the land's highest knights to discuss public policy.  Making his first appearance was a re-energized King Percival the Fourth, who was determined to have a greater hand in his kingdom's affairs.

"We’ve been able to settle down the commoners since the wizard departed, my liege.  We told them he had left us, but he would come again to judge them for their present and future behavior.  It was a long shot, I admit, but I think they bought it," said Lindsay to the king.

"Do you really think that can work over the long duration?" asked Percival.

"How about this?  We promise eternal happiness in the next life in exchange for hardship and toil in this one," proposed Sir Chauncey.

Percival cocked his head to one side.  "You know, it's just crazy enough to work..."
 

Finit