"OH NO NO NO MY PET," I squealed. (Patreon)

"Don't touch that thing!  It's evil!  Put it down!  Oh be careful!  Be careful!"

How was it possible that she could handle this heavily-magicked object and suffer no ill effects?  Was magick truly dying in this world?  Is that why the Duchess had turned to industry instead of using her elfly powers?

"First, I'm not your pet," Ethel retorted.  "You're a smelly hermit living in a cave with little or nothing to offer a femme like me.  Second, there's nothing this sad hunk of rope can do to hurt me."

"Oh be careful what you say," I whimpered.  "Don't toy with my heart, or with that accursed object!"

How could she be so cruel, so disrespectful?  Was there no place for elves in this world?

"Faith an' begorrah," Ethel chuckled as she shook the poppet at me.  "Sure an' is the wee elflet afraid o' the terrible tuft o' hemp?  An what manner o' blatherskyte is he, to be swoonin' over a lowfolk lass?  What the hell??  Cushlamochree!  Why in the warld am oi suddenly talkin' loike a bad leprechaun?  Sure an' this is YOUR schtick, me boyo."

"See?" I yelped.  "I told you something would happen if you messed with that."

"Thanum an dhul!" Ethel exclaimed as she quickly dropped the poppet back into its hole.

She pulled a small leather pouch out of her bodice and began to sprinkle black powder on the poppet.

"Sure an' we'll see how well this thing can stand a proper blast," she muttered.

After dusting the poppet to her satisfaction, she stood up, stowed the powder bag, and then began to distractedly pat herself all over.

"Arragh!" she bellowed.  "Sure an it can't be that oi left me flint at home!?  Begorrah, sure oi can't foind it at all at all!"

"Magick is rubbish, eh?" I scoffed from within the circle.  "Looks like you're finding out the contrary, my dear.  I happen to have prodigious elfly powers.  I can teleport objects .. except for that thing there in the hole.  Um, I can teleport myself .. just not outside of this circle.  Uh, I can scry invisibly on anyone I please .. if that poppet wasn't there.  And oh!  I can make a stew better than any you've ever tasted .. if I have a cauldron and some ingredients."

"Sure an yer not impressin' me, lad," Ethel scowled.  "At all, at all.  Every wondrous power comes with a big IF."

"Come over here and stand beside me," I commanded.  "You'll want to be a safe distance away when your explosive powder goes off."

With a skeptical look on her face, she stepped into the circle and stood next to me.

"Now then, am I correct in assuming that the powder simply needs to be ignited?"

"Sure an that's roight," she affirmed.

"Just like that," I quipped smoothly as my fire cantrip touched off the powder and the contents of the hole vaporized with a satisfying FOOM.

"How did you?" Ethel asked in a hushed voice.

"I already told you, sweetheart," I smirked.  "Elf magick."

Suddenly I was feeling confident and in control!

"Now then," I continued, rubbing my chin in thought.  "Considering your astute analysis of my tactical situation, I have to ask - how does a lowfolk wench know so much about warfare?"

"Growing up around here a femme has to learn how to defend herself," Ethel replied.

"Hmm.  There may yet be a way to turn enemies against enemies against enemies.  I recall that when I gave Jerry his quest, I did so in the form of SALV Relda Fauxfox."

"Who?"

"An alter ego of mine, who - as far as I know - is still widely believed to be a Vulpitanian agent."

"A what now?"

"You recall Jerry saying something about a beautiful vixen as he was packing to leave?  Well, Vulpitania is a nation of foxes.  They are sneaky, sly, and thoroughly Unseelie.  They would have no reason to double-cross the Duchess .. but I'm sure she would absolutely believe that they had, if we could somehow insure that she got the information enabling her to make that connection."

"Light something else on fire," Ethel insisted breathily.

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