Something in the vast mountain of laundry was moving. The pile became still for a few moments, then erupted in all directions as Gosalyn stuck her head out and looked for Honker. She spotted him by the bed, using a ruler to probe the unclassifiable items beneath.
"Not here!" she cried as she went to the closet.
Honker looked up and idly pushed his glasses up his beak. "Not here, either. I'm going to check the desk again." He got out of the way just before Gosalyn forced open the bulging closet door.
The desk contained plenty of pencils, but no pencil boxes. Honker sat on the chair for a moment and tried to figure out where Gosalyn may have placed it. He looked down at the bottom drawer, where Gosalyn kept her returned assignments. They were written in pencil, so maybe...
Sure enough, the box was beneath all of the papers. Gosalyn took the box triumphantly and began working the lid off with a screwdriver. While she was thus occupied, Honker peered into the open drawer. Most of the papers there should by all rights have given him co-authoring credit, but he didn't mind. He had felt something solid during his search, so he rummaged a bit to dig out a copy of Dinah's Adventures Through the Looking Glass, with the original Terniel illustrations. He had read a copy of this book years before he and Gosalyn had met, and that particular copy had some good memories attached to it during its brief existence in the Muddlefoot residence. He looked for the illustration of the Tweedles preparing for combat, and a packet of paper fell to his feet. Gingerly, he unfolded it. "The Skull of Doom," it read across the top. No byline, but it was obviously Gosalyn's. It was several pages longer than anything she had turned in without giving to him to at least proofread. On the other hand, it had no class or grade on it. Perhaps it was private.
"Whatcha got there?" Gosalyn was standing over him, the hinge spring in one hand and the rather-sharp screwdriver in the other.
"Um, this sort-of fell out of your book...."
"Let me see...I was looking for that! You might like it." She had the story in her hands now, flipping through to be sure all the pages were there. "You remember a few months back when Dad and Megavolt got sucked into that dimension with all the flat-faced mutants?" She waited for Honker to nod. "Well, anyway, I got him to tell me all the details--it isn't everyday you get to hear about another universe--and I guess it affected me or something, because I had this way-cool dream that night. I woke up remembering the whole thing, so I sorta wrote it down so I wouldn't forget. I messed with it awhile and ended up with that. I got the spring, and this isn't the first time we had to fix the gas gun, so why don't you look that over while I get it fixed?"
Honker shrugged, then settled himself on the chair.
It all started when I had my friends from school over to show them this cyclone machine I was going to use for my science project. I had just smashed up Toto's miniature farm-house and was about to throw in the tiny Umpire State Building when the fuse blew. I went down to the basement to change it, but I forgot to turn off the power, so when I touched the panel, I was blown twenty feet through the air, accompanied by a roar of thunder.
I hit a rock wall and slid to a dirt floor. I was rubbing my tail feathers when I heard Dad's voice.
"Miss Waddlemeyer, I could use your assistance right now."
I was a bit confused. I was now in some kind of cave and my dad was calling me in a very unusual way with a quiet tone of voice. I checked for broken bones, then went around the corner.
"Dad!"
My dad, up to his chest in a quicksand pit in the center of the cavern, looked quickly around.
"Your father? Where?!"
He was too far in to reach without joining him in the deadly pool.
"What, what should I do?"
He looked up at me calmly. "Well, Miss Waddlemeye--by the way, when did you have time to change your attire?--I was thinking that perhaps you could cast a levitate spell on me."
"I can't cast spells! Where can I get a rope?"
"You cannot cast spells today? If that is the case, then where did the rope in your hand come from?"
I looked, and to my surprise the fuse in my hand faded away, to be replaced with a much larger coil of rope. I also noticed that my clothes had been replaced by a brown leather outfit.
Without stopping to think about any of the weird stuff so far, I flung the rope out to him and looped my end around a stalagmite. I doubted that I could break him free of the suction, but at the first tug he nearly flew out.
"Good work, Miss Waddlemeyer! I must apologize for my clumsiness in falling into that pool. I know you have a schedule to keep, so if we could continue on...."
"Dad, I insist that we stay here so you can rest and clean up! And maybe then you can explain how I got here and why you keep calling me Miss Waddlemeyer?"
"Are you under some sort of enchantment that has robbed you of your memory and left you believing that I am your father? Or else is this some sort of disturbing joke I am supposed to laugh about? I regret to inform you that your protector must pay me considerably more before I would be willing to stand such abuse."
I sat down to think. An enchantment? Was this duck right? Was I really some kind of explorer, and that land of superheroes and supervillains merely a fantasy? Was all that Darkwing Duck stuff a far-fetched dream with continuity problems? I thought back, and the sheer number of memories of a world where my dad was a hero proved to me that this duck was mistaken. I decided to take my bearings.
"Tell me...sir, what is your name?"
His look turned from grave to concerned. "I am Drake Mallard."
"And what do you do for a living?"
"I'm a free-lance archeologist, currently under the employment of Noel Waddlemeyer. He sent me to these caves..."
"My grandfather is alive!?" My dad's--I mean Mr. Mallard's--eyes boggled at the possibility that he would be anything else. My brain went into hyperdrive. "I think I saw something like this in a movie once. I think I am from another universe--one just like this one, only different--and I somehow got shocked into the Gosalyn of this world." A Gosalyn much stronger than me, thinking back a few minutes. "I am named Gosalyn, right?"
"Uh, yes, that is correct. I must admit the fade effect that I witnessed is like no magic I am aware of. You also use terms like 'movie' and 'shocked' that I am completely unfamiliar with. So I suppose I can accept your story at face value." He turned away from me and went to his leather knapsack in the corner.
I noticed that my outfit had a lot of pockets, and neat things like knives and smoke powders were in every pocket. "Am I some kind of magician in this wor...hey!" I cried as Mr. Mallard threw a silver chain around my neck. "What was that for?"
"I just had to be sure you weren't a shapeshifter or an illusion. I hope you forgive me for showing that slight doubt in your story." The chain was replaced in a pocket of his filthy jacket.
"I suppose you have the right to be cautious."
I let Mr. Mallard retire to a corner to clean up while I tried to sort things out. It didn't look like there were any fuse boxes around here, so I resigned myself to staying in this world at least a little while longer.
Mr. Mallard had been watching my reverie for a few minutes when he ventured to speak.
"If you are wondering, you are the apprentice to your grandfather, the greatest wizard in the land. He hired me to find The Eye of Torment, and I suspect he sent you to keep an eye on me." He said this without a trace of resentment. "He never told me what the Eye can do, but considering how well this cavern has been boobytrapped, I expect it to be very powerful."
"You did this without even knowing what it is?" "Eye of Torment" sounded pretty gruesome.
"Of course. My colleagues keep telling me that I'm the expert at this sort of thing. Besides, Wizard Waddlemeyer has powerful enemies and lacking magical training, I have no defense against mind-scanning. Do you have any memories of the Eye?"
It seemed reasonable that if I was sharing "Gosalyn Waddlemeyer"'s body that I should share her memories, too, but mine were the only ones I could recall.
"Nothing. Maybe we kept our brains. So, did you find this Eye yet?"
"I'm afraid not. I was looking over the map, and it appears we have covered the entire complex. This trail was false."
"What if somebody else had found the Eye?"
"Your grandfather told me that if any unscrupulous person found the Eye, the whole world would know about it."
"That sounds serious. Let me look at that map."
He handed it over without one disparaging remark about what someone my age would be able to do with a map. I was beginning to like this world.
The map was of real old parchment and had tiny caverns worming their way all over the place. Mr. Mallard showed me where we were, a large stomach-shaped chamber half- way between the center and the north end of the map. Just to the south of us was a large blank area with a wiggly line through it.
"What's this?"
"That's an underground stream. I saw it here and here, and it seemed equally cold in both, so I assumed they were the same stream."
"Well, wouldn't this be a good place to hide a treasure?"
"My, my, you might be right! Come on, I have the raft that got us to this island at the entrance!"
I stopped priding myself when I saw that the raft wasn't the usual self-inflating kind but instead was made of large branches tied together with twine.
"Some expert you are! Why couldn't you buy a modern boat!"
"Buy? I never heard of anyone buying a raft--it would be much too cumbersome."
"No, no, it's real small and then you fill it with air..."
"Hey, that could be very useful on this world. What do you make it from?"
"Rubber."
"Hmm...that might work on your world, but on this one, rubber melts on a hot day and becomes brittle on cold ones."
"Not if you vulcanize it. See you add..." Wait a second, I could make a fortune with this idea--I'm wasn't going to just give it away! "On second thought, maybe you're right. You take the front end of the raft, and I'll take the back end." The thoughts of the profits I could make from rubber products alone (let alone any other ideas that this backward world hasn't heard of yet) made me giddy. The raft seemed like it was made of balsa, it felt so light. I wondered if one of this Gosalyn's favorite spells was "Mega Muscles".
"By the way, if my grandfather is so powerful, why didn't he magic it out?"
"The cavern is guarded by glyphs of warding, attuned to all powder-based magic."
"So?"
"Nearly all powerful magic is powder based."
"Oh. What about that chain?"
"Well, amulet-based magic is different."
If I was going to be a sorceress, I was going to have to remember this kind of stuff.
The stream flowed towards the cave mouth, so we had to trek nearly a mile into the caverns to get to the starting point. The raft was too wide, so Mr. Mallard untied the ropes and narrowed it, a feature admittedly missing from rubber rafts. The extra logs were used to add sides to the raft...
"...to protect from acid."
"I really wish you hadn't told me that."
We were on our way. At first, the stream steered us too far north, but then it rounded a curve and headed south-east into darkness, straight towards a dim flickering that could only be the entrance to the secret cavern.
Mr. Mallard held up his lamp and attempted to make out the cavern. His eyes squinted.
"I've got a bad feeling about this...."
I squirmed past him to the front of the boat. Something at the entrance was undulating up and down, while the flickering was moving like the lights of a passing subway: right-to-left over and over again.
"I agree! Let's pull over."
Mr. Mallard held up the lamp. "Can't. The walls are too close and besides, they are moving with us. Also, take a look at the water." The water around us looked like it was flowing in slow motion. I grabbed up a loose log and attempted to brake our progress, but the lumber stuck fast in the taffy-water and was yanked out of my hands. Seconds later it dissolved. "What do you know?" he exclaimed, "It was acid!"
There was no way to brake the boat, no way to go back, and it was too dark to tell what deathtrap we were floating into. I looked to the duck who's supposed to be my dad on another world, but he was clearly befuddled by these events, more Teapot Duck than Darkwing Duck. Well then, this clearly looked like a job for the Quiverwing Quack! There was only one catch....
"Drat! Where's a good bow when you need one?"
"Will this work?" Mr. Mallard pulled a wound crossbow out of my knapsack.
"Good enough!" Since it was a crossbow, I'd only have time for one shot. I yanked off a strip of bark and partially split it lengthwise. I bent the two tips outward, then used the lamp to light the stem. I aimed carefully and fired--the bark split in midair, planting torches on either side of the entrance. I was definitely getting used to this new body.
The torches revealed the exact nature of the deaths planned for us. The top of the cavern mouth was the pivot for a rotating metal disk. There was a notch in the disk that rotated past once every five seconds, allowing the bunched-up taffy acid to flow out. The inside edge of the notch was razor-sharp, and chopped the acid clean off. I could see no floor inside the cavern, so our assorted body parts were expected to fall after being diced.
Mr. Mallard was standing in the raft. He seemed full of purpose, like the Dad I knew.
"I hope you don't weigh much. Could you please look in my knapsack for a large right-angled appliance with a tri-tipped hook sticking out?"
I grinned with recognition and handed it to him. "Your grappling gun!"
"Yes, well it was originally a powder gun and I presented it to your father, saying, 'Sir, if I might dare to make a suggestion to someone as ancient and knowledgeable as yourself, I thought that with this gun you might be able to deliver your powder-based magic over a much wider range.' And your grandfather said, 'I'm sorry, Mr. Mallard, but magical powders are extremely rare, and there does not exist enough of even the most common magic to fill one of those shells.' And I was disappointed for a while, but then I thought..."
"Dad, I never knew you could do Grandpa's voice so well, but if you don't hurry up we'll be in too many pieces to care about the rest of your story!"
"Oh yes, then, on with the heroics...I suppose." He hoisted me up on his shoulder, fired the hook through the notch at a stalactite in the cavern beyond, and swung us through just in time. The raft was completely destroyed.
From our new vantage point near the ceiling of the cavern, I saw the bits of the boat fall fifty feet to the pointy stalagmites below. The taffy acid bits flowed together to become real water again. The stream flowed across the cavern floor, then flowed up the wall to exit by an opening exactly opposite the one we went through, an entrance that was completely normal.
Mr. Mallard rubbed the underside of his bill. "I guess we should have gone that way instead."
I pointed to the rotating wheel. Hanging from the pivot was a large oval orange-colored gem on a necklace. "Is that the Eye of Torment?"
"Yes, I believe it is. Hand me my whip and we'll swing over and get it."
The fifty feet were giving me an unexpected fear of heights. I forced myself to look at the knapsack instead.
"No whip here."
"I guess I left it with the hat. Oh well, I guess we'll have to use the rope instead. Start swinging."
We got the Eye without incident, then swung ourselves over to the opposite ledge. Mr. Mallard took a moment to admire his find, but I couldn't look at it--I felt that it was glaring at me like I was guilty of something. Mr. Mallard retrieved his grapple, and we waded downstream with the weak current. I turned around to look at the cavern again, but now it looked completely different! The cavern now had a floor even with the stream and the Eye was resting on a pedestal in the center of the cavern. There was no rotating disk either. I went closer and bumped against a glass wall.
"Hey! What gives?"
Mr. Mallard pinged the glass. "One-way illusion door, meant to trick us into taking the downstream entrance. I guess we skipped a step in being boobied."
I saw the exit first and ran out into the cool air. There was a raft at the nearby beach, and standing next to the raft were Launchpad and Honker. Launchpad was wearing tan clothing like Mr. Mallard was, while Honker was in some sort of robe with stars all over it. Both of them looked rather nasty. If Dad was going to be a polite archeologist with no ego on this world, what would they be like?
Honker stepped forward and grinned wickedly. "Good work. Now give me the Eye."
I opened my beak, but at that moment Mr. Mallard walked out of the cave. "Oh, hello Mr. McQuack, Wizard Muddlefoot." To me he whispered, "You know, if any trace of your old memory has returned, you can let me know what McQuack and your boyfriend are doing here."
I was too shocked to speak. Honker was too shocked not to speak.
"Traitor! Vile, false love! You promised that Mallard would never leave these caves alive! You have abandoned me for a mortal!" Honker looked like a thing possessed (the glowing red eyes and basso voice certainly helped in that department).
Launchpad stepped forward, a crafty look in his eye. "Wizard Muddlefoot, you may have forgotten our objective, but I have not. Mallard, you will now hand over the Eye of Torment."
"And what, pray tell, do you intend to do with it?"
Launchpad cleared his throat and assumed a lawyer's posture. "In contracting with a non-Union employee, Wizard Waddlemeyer violated Code 15, Section 6, Paragraph 12, of the Archeology Statutes. As the nearest Union representative, I hereby declare you non-finder of the Eye of Torment, and award the title of rightful finder to the nearest licensed archeologist, who happens to be myself. This is fortunate, as I was contracted by another individual to retrieve the Eye, and the said individual (I might add) is one that respects the proper way of doing business in this profession."
"Those codes cannot apply to clients, and they do not apply outside the Union, making that law null and void. By the way, aren't you violating code by magicking yourself to this island?"
"I have my honor, Mr. Mallard. I found this island by completely legitimate and non-magical research. I brought Wizard Muddlefoot for the same reason you brought Apprentice Waddlemeyer. Now surrender the Eye I see hanging around your neck, or I will let Wizard Muddlefoot have his way with you two."
"We appear to be at a stalemate, McQuack, since his magic will not work while we are still within the cave." With that, Mr. Mallard pulled me back several steps so that we were just barely inside the cave.
Honker smiled evilly. "I think not." He flung a tiny red crystal at us. The crystal burst into blinding flame, but it winked out of existence a foot from us.
The cave did not like the magic. The ground beneath us shook, the floor and roof collapsing together behind us until we had been spit out of the literal "mouth" of the cave!
When we got to our feet again, we could see that the air behind the pair of adversaries was full of one hundred giant red eyes, extending back over the water.
Honker looked back at the closest pair and pointed at us. "I have lost my patience. Peter, retrieve the Eye." The eyes came forward and stopped high above us, then swept down. The Eye was savagely torn from Mr. Mallard's neck, flying through the air beneath the eyes before falling into Launchpad's eager hands.
Launchpad looked the Eye over very carefully, dropping a few powders on it which changed color on contact.
"This is it!"
Honker nodded and turned to us. "A good thing for you, since you would not want to face the rest of my friends. Farewell." He threw up a handful of powder and suddenly the fifty red dragons attached to the red eyes became visible. With a glare in my direction, he clapped his hands, and suddenly we two were all alone.
"Showoff," Mr. Mallard muttered.
Well, almost alone. The smallest dragon, the one all the way in the back, had been left behind. He looked around in shock, then ran in our direction across the water.
"Oh, Mr. Mallard, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm soooooo sorry! That mean wizard made me come here! I wouldn't 'ave hurt you, I pwomise! If he hadda told me to touch a hair on your head, I woulda said 'N O, I won't hurt my friend!' Not even if he skinned me alive! Not even if he let me hurt Apprentice Waddlemey...oh, now I done it--I forgot that she's your friend. I oughta be dead."
I looked from the cowering dragon to my partner. "I'm beginning to think maybe the Gosalyn you used to know was not the kind of people-person I am."
Mr. Mallard just smiled. "Gosalyn, this is Cecil. Cecil, Gosalyn is under an enchantment and I need to get her back to Wizard Waddlemeyer."
I held out my hand gingerly--it was smaller than one of his claws. Cecil's snout formed a toothy grin as he nearly tore my arm off with his thumb and forefinger.
"Climb on--I'll get you there in a jiffy! Get on and hold on tight." He ran down the beach, beating his enormous glittering wings up and down. With a heave, we were in the air.
Flying that dragon was the most wonderful experience of the entire adventure. Riding a flying creature beats out a plane any time. By feeling Cecil move under me, it was almost like he was part of me and I was doing the flying. And the view was incredible!
All of this must have been quite routine with Cecil. "Hey, Mr. Mallard! I was thinkin'--what if Apprentice Waddlemeyer isn't under an enchantment? What if she was put under a mean enchantment way before you even met her? And now that the curse is broken, you can carry her away to your castle and live happily ever after!"
Cecil might be able to speak in a 50 mile-per-hour headwind, but for us ducks, it was a little harder to make oneself heard: "Uh, Cecil..."
"Did you say something?"
"Yes, Cecil. Cecil! That's just a story..."
"What?"
"I said, that stuff only happens in stories! Besides, I'm not even a member of the nobility!"
"What!?"
"I said, I don't have a castle!"
"Oh, yeah, that's right--you live in a Free Lance instead."
"No, no! I work freelance, I live in a house!"
"What a battle that must have been! Where ever did you encounter one that large?"
"Encounter what?"
"What was that?"
"Huh?"
"Your mouse--where did you find it?"
"Not mouse, HOUSE! A house is like a cave!"
"Who would ever want to live in a cave? I went in a cave once, it was spooky! Oh, we're here already. Everybody off! And Apprentice Waddlemeyer, tell the Wizard I said 'hi'. And Appentice Waddlemeyer! Tell him to keep you just the way you are. You used to talk too much."
We were on another, much rockier beach. Ahead of us on the narrow spit was a house constructed of overlapping domes built into a sort of bumpy mountain. The porch of this structure was our destination.
We were greeted by two oddly familiar people. One was a short duck with messy hair and a wiry physique obscured by the highly uncomfortable furs he was wearing. He was gripping the handle of a large battle axe with his delicate hands while his eye was following the departure of Cecil. The dog beside him was tall and gangly. He wore a cloak and hood that made it difficult to make him out very well. He appeared to have something wrong with his right eye and there was presumably something on his head to make his hood stick out so much in back. A lute and a stout walking staff leaned against the walls of the bubble-house near him. He was looking at me with a patient weariness.
The pair turned to allow us to pass between them. "Welcome back, Miss Waddlemeyer," said the dog in an ingratiating voice. "The Guardian is expecting you." The duck merely bowed. We opened the door for ourselves and entered.
Beyond the door was a dome-shaped chamber twenty feet in diameter. The only five doors led out of the building entirely instead of leading further into the complex. In the exact center of the room was a rocking chair, upon which someone in a shawl was slowly rocking. Five feet away from him in all directions was a thin circle dug deeply into the living rock (I always wanted to use that phrase!). The floor was also covered with straight cracks running parallel to the doors at random distances from the chair and inward-bound cracks running from circumference to center.
Mr. Mallard strode forward until he was just outside the circle. "Better get this over with," he muttered in my direction. "Wizard Waddlemeyer, I regret to inform you that the Eye of Torment has been lost. I take full responsibility for this disaster. If you can ever find it in your heart to value my worthless services again, I will be glad to grant a boon for no charge."
Even at the edge of the circle, a sort of standing haze kept us from seeing the exact source of the thin voice that issued from the pile of blankets on the rocking chair. "You should not be surprised to know that I already knew of the theft. I am surprised that you are not physically harmed, however."
"The confrontation was such that hand-to-hand combat was precluded."
"I didn't mean at the hands of the thieves--I meant from her." A skeletal hand pointed in my direction.
This took Mr. Mallard considerably by surprise. He removed the necklace he had used to verify my identity and held it out towards the chair. "Then this was to protect me from your granddaughter?"
The wizard reached towards the archeologist from five feet away. For an instant, the distance between them shrank to nothing as the wizard took the chain. It was a stunning effect, and I'm sorry I can't put it visually on the page.
"Gosalyn, could you step inside here for a moment?"
Swallowing hard, I took the step.
From the circular crack sprang up a dome of mercury that completely cut us off from the world. Everything was beautifully-lit, including Grandpa. He looked the same as my photograph, proving that what I had seen earlier was some kind of an illusion. He was staring deep into my eyes.
"Would you mind introducing yourself? I believe we've never met."
When I had finished my spiel it was my grandfather's turn.
"My job around here is to keep everything in balance--that's why they slap that silly Guardian name on me. Not too hard really: you just have to know where to push.
"Being in the middle means that I don't have to have any enemies, and I didn't have any for a couple decades. But for the last half-century or so I have had to deal with The Enforcer.
"Now to be perfectly honest, this Enforcer is really not that bad and I should at least give you the chance to make up your mind what side you're on, if indeed you wish to declare one side or the other.
"To speak from her point of view, what I'm doing is making life very hazardous. If she could have her way then no one would have to worry about plagues or fires or being assaulted in the middle of the night and to be frank, I can't promise that at all.
"She also wants to make sure that there is some dependability in life, so that you can get on with the more enriching activities of living. Now of course if that means that every day will be like every other day and nothing new ever happens again, well that's a rather small price."
"Just one question," I asked. "What's her real name?"
"Name? Oh, 'Enforcer' is it. She never uses her old name, and she...punishes anyone who brings up that particular issue. But of course, to use her argument, names are really not necessary and promote individuality. Titles are all that are really necessary."
"I'd really like to be a bit more than Hocky-Playing Elementary School Student. I'm with you."
"Good for you! Now that you're on my side I can let you in on a few secrets. You see, the Eye of Torment is a magical artifact created millennia ago by Zagyig the Great to reveal the location of the Skull of Death."
"And what does that do?"
"Well, it's only the source of all magical power on Earth. The Eye is indestructible, so it was quite a task to keep its location secret. The Enforcer was too close to finding it, so I was going to have Sir Reginald and Brother Elmo move it, but you...you know, talking about your past self does lead to some interesting questions of the correct pronoun to use...anyway, your former self insisted on doing the deed herself, undoubtedly to betray me to the Enforcer."
"How could she?"
"She was too orderly for her own good. I trusted Mr. Mallard out there to immobilize you before you...err, she...would give it to the Enforcer's trusted wizard Muddlefoot.
"Now that you're all caught up, we need to think about the future. I see a strong magical charge on you that is polarized against the type of magic the Skull produces, which means that all you have to do to go back home is to touch the Skull. Coincidentally, I need someone to lead a team of my best people out to defend the Skull from the Enforcer. Are you up to the task?"
"You're trusting me, a kid, to do this?"
"Don't belittle yourself. At least in this universe, we determine adulthood by maturity, and you seem to have plenty of that to stand so still while I rattle my trap at you for what must seem like hours!"
I grinned.
When we were finished, Grandpa lowered the forcefield. Mr. Mallard was still waiting patiently outside, and behind and above him I could see the ceiling of the dome, which I hadn't noticed before. The smooth surface was painted in a very weird way. I arched my neck up to see it all and it wasn't until I was looking straight up that I realized that it was supposed to be two ducks from the point of view of something tiny on the ground between them. I turned around to the wizened figure in the wheelchair. "Who are they?"
"They are the Creators, but I won't bore you with mythology--you've got work to do."