A BP&G adventure - Pockets; Heretic

[joegoda]

In the dark of the night, in the light of the moon, the trio enacted a scene they had done hundreds of times before. Packing up, loading up, and sneaking out of town through the back door, hoping that nobody noticed them. In the old days, it would be Bel as the lead of the horses, and she seemed to know instinctively that it was time to go and the direction was that-a-way.

But this wasn't the old days. This was the now days and the world had turned and the world had changed. Bel was gone, long ago, with the ill-fated trip to save Pockets from the Mad Wizard Fletcher. The gypsy wagon had burned the very day Bags, Pockets and Grizelda came to Tears.

Bags was five years older, Grizelda was too. Pockets was... well... Pockets, but his time here had taken its toll and he was not as quick to jump and run. And there was Cookie, older and a lot slower than any of the other three. And Esmeralda, Bags and Grizelda's three year old daughter, who was excited to be going, and bouncing faster than any of the other four could move, powered by a source that far outstripped the motors that ran the older members.

"Angel, come climb on my shoulders," Pockets called to the hyperactive girl. "You're about to wear your parents out with all your running around."

Pockets and Esmeralda had a special bond. She had seen him before her birth, and she recognized him. Pockets had been shocked when, floating in a place between here and there, she pointed at him and called to him, but it didn't truly surprise him. After her birth, the two were almost inseparable, uncle and niece.

"Oh, like she doesn't wear you out?" Grizelda whispered. Bags just smiled.

"Now, Grizelda," Cookie chimed in, bringing up the rear as they walked the back path from the Mansion. "You know that Chester has always been full of energy. That's what gets him in so much trouble."

"He's full of something." Bags muttered. It was Grizelda's turn to smile.

"Unk," Esmeralda asked Pockets. "What are you full of?"

The bond that the two of them shared enabled them to almost hear each other's thoughts, if that thought was directed and focused enough. When they needed to share a secret, they would lie their forehead against the other's and talk baby gibberish. To the rest of the world, it was an Awww moment. To Pockets and Esmeralda, it was pure communication.

Outside of their heads, Esmeralda still spoke half gibberish, as her mouth, tongue and teeth had not quite learned to form the words correctly, but that would change pretty soon. Her parents, as all parents can with young children, understood her perfectly, as could Cookie and Pockets. The rest of the world would just have to wait until later.

Esmeralda was very, very bright and tended to ask enough questions that her parents would just say in exasperation, "Go ask Pockets!" It was only natural that the two developed a form of communication that worked best for them, and it was purely by loving accident that they discovered their forehead telepathy.

"Cookie," Pockets explained, "is talking about how I always seem to be running around, getting into trouble. You father, on the other hand, means something entirely different. Something you'll find that most people are full of once you get a bit older."

"Ah." Esmeralda seemed satisfied. "I'm gonna sit back and watch the stars, Unk. I like the way they twinkle."

"So do I, Angel." Pockets could feel the little girl relax as she rode on his shoulders.

They were walking through the back streets of Tears, out away from the town proper. It was a dusty road, not much traveled, and lead through the farmland that fed the citizens. To the east of them, they could see the dim night lights from the houses of farmers, who would, in a few short hours be up and about, seeing to the feeding cows and chickens and hogs, seeing to the feeding of the kingdom of Tears. Far to the west, the dead lights of the town and the market place shadowed night creepers who wandered the streets looking for late comers from the pub or those just out looking to catch night creepers. To the north, just a mile behind them, the Mansion stood, as it had for a hundred years and more, with its great tree growing in the central room, as it had for as long as the Mansion had stood. To the south, directly in front of them was a crossroads. Go left, to the east, they would come to the Cathouse, which supplied entertainment to weary travelers when they came to Tears. Go right, they would eventually end up in the town proper; a road none of them wanted to take right now.

There was, however, one other destination. Sitting on the North West corner of that crossroads was a low building, dark and foreboding. There was a single light in its one window, and that light was dim and flickering.

"Dammit!" Pockets grumbled. "I thought I turned that light out!" With Esme starting to doze on his shoulders, he unlocked the back door to the Blacksmith's shop and let the others in. "Mind your step. I don't want to turn on any more lights and attract any attention."

A loud Ouch, from Bags, caused Pockets to reconsider. He turned back and, in the dim gloom from the one light, said, "Better yet, why don't you guys stay here? I'll go get the wagon and bring it around back." With a clatter and a few bangs, Pockets' form faded into the dark.

"There's a wagon?" Grizelda asked. In the dark, she reached out and grabbed Bags' sleeve. "You didn't tell me there was a new wagon."

Bags shrugged. "I didn't know there was one, myself. You know Pockets, hon. He gets an idea and just does it. It's not like he's ever asked permission or anything." His attention was drawn to a loud clatter and a banging from another room. "Hey Pockets?" he called. "You okay in there?"

"Yeah, I'm fine." A Pockets sounding grunt, followed by the sound of a thousand bowstrings twanging all at once came back. "Yeah... Everything is just..." another grunt, "fine!"

"Uh," Bags sounded dubious. "Okay, if you say so."

"I didn't even know that Pockets had any horses nearby." Grizelda turned to Cookie, who was showing the signs of the night's adventure all ready. "Cookie, are you all right?"

Cookie waved her away, saying, "I'll be fine, Grizelda. Soon's I can get some sleep, I'll be fine. It's just these old bones are not that happy in the night air." She gave a gentle cough. "I'll be fine."

Bags crept forward, carefully in the darkened room. "Pockets? Where in the seven hells are you?"

"Right here, chum." Pocket answered him from the back door. He smiled broadly. "Ready to go?"

"Where's Esme?" Grizelda asked.

"She's already in the wagon, sleeping like a baby." Pockets stroked his beard. "I guess that makes sense, since that's what she is. C'mon! Wait till you see it! I've been working on it for about a year now. Didn't know why, just was something I felt needed to be tinkered on."

He ushered the others out the back and presented them with the wagon. This wagon, however, was unlike any wagon they had ever seen. For one thing, it was about twice as long as it should be, and it was half again as wide. For another thing, there were no horses.

"Where's the horses?" asked Bags, as nothing slipped by him.

"Don't need 'em." Pockets said.

"Don't need 'em?" Bags asked, incredulous. "What? We push it? It's huge!"

"Nope." Pockets said. "It runs on springs. Look." He hopped up on the bench seat and showed them a large wheel connected to a gear. "You crank this and the mechanical advantage transfers the energy back to a large main spring, which...."

"Stop!" Bags held his hand up. "I don't care. Does it move? Will it work?"

Pockets blew a raspberry. "Will it work? Will... it... work? I built it, didn't I?" With that being said, he reached down to the side of the bench, pulled a lever, and, soundlessly, the wagon moved around in a large circle, it's wheels crunching over the ground. "See? I covered the wheels with a durable triple leather pad, and then I punched metal studs into that to hold the cover in place and to give us extra traction." Grinning like a maniac, which he was, he added, "I bet this thing could climb a mountain!"

Bags walked around the thing. It was big; the size of a small house, and it looked like one too.

"How many rooms are in it?" Grizelda asked, her eyebrows up and mouth agape.

"Well, Griz, since I made it with you in mind, there's six." He pondered a second. "Okay, there's really four, but there's two closets." He pondered again. "No... there's five. Oh hell, get inside; you'll see when you get there." He winked at Bags and whispered, "You know that trick I did with your neverfull bag?"

Bags nodded. "Yeah?"

"Well... wait till you see the inside." Pockets said mysteriously as he hopped down to show them to the front door. To Grizelda, he said, "Now, you can't really see much of the outside, cuz it's so dark, but it's very pretty, really. Like I said, I made it with you in mind." He opened the door and ushered them all inside. "I hope I got the inside right."

Inside the wagon, Grizelda stopped and stared. Even Bags mouth dropped. Cookie found a soft cushion to sit on and said, "Very soft. Feels like we're back at the Mansion."

"Actually...," Grizelda said in a stunned hushed voice, "I think we're in the Mansion."

In the middle of the wagon, there was a tree growing straight up to the second story. Its branches held up the ceiling and there was a stair case winding up its trunk. To the right, there was a huge fireplace, with roaring fire, and off towards the back, the dining hall could be seen.

Grizelda turned to Pockets with a question on her face.

"Well, see...." Pockets stammered. "I figured that you wouldn't feel right leaving your stuff behind, so I figured why not bring it all with you?" He shrugged. "The hard part was tweaking the singularity just enough that I could open the portal to it and phase shift it just enough so that..."

"Eh!" Bags said, fingers doing that zipping motion again. "Too much information! The ladies are tired, so am I and we need to be getting on the road."

"Okee doke!" Pockets walked over to a closet, opened it and said "Um. This is the way to the driver's seat. The Mansion wasn't a perfect fit, but I got most of the important parts."

Grizelda walked over to Pockets, grabbed him and said, "If you aren't the most infuriating person at times." She kissed him, hard. "You're right. I did not want to leave my house. After five years, it's the only place I could really call home. I should have known something in that twisted genius brain of yours would fix it. You always do. But how did ... No... wrong question. You've been working on this for a year?"

"Yep. Needed something to keep me out of trouble, even though it seems it didn't do me much good."

"Huh," she said. "I guess the question is... why?"

Well..." Pockets stalled. "I knew that there would come a time when Bags would get itchy feet." He looked over at his old friend. "You know you would!" He looked back at Grizelda. "You know he would too! There would come a time when Bags would get restless and want to go out adventuring again! I knew that you wouldn't want to leave Esme and I knew that you wouldn't want to bring Esme on the road with us, and I knew that you wouldn't want to stay behind, so I thought that the only way to keep you two lovebirds from dying of loneliness was to...," he shrugged, "make it so you wouldn't have to be apart." He shrugged again. "Side's... I didn't get you an anniversary present, so I figured this would make up for it."

"Oh, you... you...," Grizelda struggled for the words, "you Pockets you!" She turned around and took it all in. "I can't believe you stuck the whole building in here!" She turned back to Pockets. "Used the same trick as Bags' bag?"

"Yep. Amazin' what you can do with a little singularity manipulation." He tugged his short grey beard. "Tricky lil suckers, but once you get the hang of them, pretty darn useful. There are limitations, though."

"Oh?" Bags asked. "Like what?"

"I don't know yet." Pockets admitted. "But there's always a limit somewhere." I'm sure we'll find it."

A knock came to the front door.

"Maybe that's it now." Pockets said. He closed the door to the closet and opened the door that led to the outside. "Umm... Hi Capitani." He looked past her to Thom, her husband and Bren, her twenty year old son. He turned back to Bags. "Look Bags, its Capitani and her family."

Bags came to the door. "What are you doing here? Does everyone know that we're leaving?"

Capitani stepped into the room. "You're leaving? We came here to warn you that tomorrow there will be a crowd coming to throw Pockets in prison." She looked around. "We were going to tell you that now is a good time to get out of town and see what we could do to help."

"What do you think we're doing?" Bags asked.

"It looks like you're all up having a late night snack to me." Capitani said.

"No," Bags replied. "We're in a wagon, about to get out of here."

"No," Capitani countered, "You are standing in the living room of the Mansion, talking crazy talk, when you should be in a wagon, getting out of here." She shouldered her way past Pockets, followed by Thom and Bren. "Now what can we do to help?"

"Yep." Pockets said, satisfied. "I think we just found a limitation."