Two days wasn't a lot of time, (Patreon)

especially for an elf, and especially with a slightly unstable time slip between the two worlds.  If I was going to brush up on my magick, I probably should come up with a definite plan so I would know what kind of magick to practice in the limited time available.

Thankfully, I hadn't promised Jerry anything other than that we would "talk" if he brought me five copies of the Chanson.  I could perhaps hint that his reward was right around the corner if he helped me with one more thing, and one more thing, and one more thing, etc.  To string him along indefinitely would require Wiles and Glamour .. hmm .. maybe I could get him to bring me sugar with which to bribe my Ixies...

But on the other hand, keeping Jerry around as my perpetual errand boy was not exactly "getting rid" of him the way Ethel wanted.  I wondered what she was hiding in the bureau, but I wouldn't ever get a chance to find out unless I satisfied her.

With Jerry still around, Ethel would not be happy.  This wasn't going to work.

Perhaps I could ask him to teach me how to make shoes, and then go ahead and actually make them, on the condition that he set up shop somewhere far away ... NO, what was I thinking?  This would take too long, and it involved me making shoes, which was unacceptable.

I could perhaps turn him into a newt or a toad.  This was a classic way of getting rid of someone without killing them .. but could I master the "Transmogrify Other" spell in just two days?  It was unlikely, since I didn't even have anybody to practice on.

It would probably be simplest to find out where the most dangerous parts of the forest were, and send Jerry on a quest to get lost in a quagmire or a bear's den or something.  It was a little bit Unseelie perhaps, but under the circumstances I thought it might be justified.

Actually, as I began to think about it, there was no reason to wait til Jerry got back to lead him astray!  Far better to get rid of him on the road so he never returns, and then I'd have more than two days; I'd have all the time in the world, and Ethel would finally smile at me ..

I shook my head to clear my thoughts.  By Fuma, that lowfolk femme's Wiles were strong!  I needed to concentrate on the task at hand!

I pulled the Chanson du Percy out of my Elfintory.  Since Jerry had held this book, using it as a psychometric handle should enable me to find him more easily.  I placed my hands on the book and tried to picture Jerry in my mind, then leaned into the scrying hole, with the mental imperative to locate him.

I zoomed past Tulgeyside along a narrow road of hard-packed earth.  Was this the lowfolks' transportation network?  HA!  Their roads were far inferior to our Imperial roads in Faerie!  I made a mental note to mention it the next time I spoke to Ethel.

Soon I caught up with Jerry, strolling casually along with a stout staff in one hand and his traveling bag slung over his shoulder.  He whistled a merry but unidentifiable tune as he walked along.

"And a foine hudalaleigh to ye," I said.

No response.

"Jerry Shoemaker, ye spalpeen," I said, louder.  "Sure an pay attention when it's yer elders an' betters addressin ye."

Still no response.  Could he not hear me?  I tried Elfmind on him, but all I got was visions of piles of shoes .. and a scantly clad SALV Fauxfox reclining in the midst of them.

Oh, I DEFINITELY had to make sure this guy did not come back from this quest.

I decided to fly on up the road ahead of him, in the hopes that I could find Percysthorpe and perhaps figure out some sort of mischief to delay or incapacitate the questing hero.  It would also give me another chance to observe this supposedly advanced technology which Ethel had bragged about.

Percysthorpe was marked (though not too clearly) with an old wooden sign by the road, and the first thing I noticed was several mills along the river.

"Pfft, we have plenty of mills in Faerie," I scoffed.  Magick was, after all, a very inefficient means of grinding grain.

I wafted into one of these mills to see just how they accomplished their task ...

And I was absolutely gobsmacked to behold rows of looms turning out cloth at a rapid rate.  The machinery itself wasn't all that impressive - Elfhamian automata were much more complex - but the sheer scale at which it was being applied to do the most humdrum & banal tasks .. it was absolutely astounding!  To squander one's ingenuity on something so dismally practical was .. it was just .. I couldn't even think of a suitable word for it.  No elf machinist would ever lower himself to this!

As I looked around at the ceaseless activity in the mill, I noticed that the bolts of emerging fabric bore a pattern that looked oddly like Persoc-Itoome labels repeated over and over ..

And over in one corner of the room, a machine was turning out - every ten minutes - a complete one-piece red garment that bore an eerie resemblance to the Duchess of Daisies' Regalia.

As odd and disturbing as this was, I had other, more urgent matters to attend to.  I left the mill and floated around the town until I found a shop with the sign "LITTLE BROWN & GOBELET" attached to its gable.  Gobelet was that annoying Percy's last name, so, based on what Ethel had told me about this publisher's fortunes, this must be his shop.

Inside, behind a low counter, was a well-dressed vole whom I assumed was the other partner, Little Brown, since the name suited him perfectly.  The wall behind him was covered from floor to ceiling with books.  I had clearly come to the right place.

"BROWN," I bellowed at him.

"Who's there?" he squeaked.

"Ah good, you can hear me.  Listen, a chap from Tulgeyside by the name of Jerry Shoemaker is going to come into this shop to buy five copies of the Chanson du Percy.  You must NOT sell them to him."

"Why?"

"It is vitally important that he not acquire these books, Brown," I declared, with as Ominous and Foreboding a tone as I could muster.

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