Chapter 5

   "Wow! Here we are! In Meillo," Sam announced cheerfully as the group of four walked through the arch, proudly bearing at its top a sign reading, Welcome to Meillo.

   "Nice job stating the obvious there, kid," Adelbarret congratulated him sarcastically.

   "Thanks," he beamed back, the point once again sailing over his head and directly out the window that wasn't there, since, of course, they were all outside.

   "Your friend there is starting to rub off of you," Adelbarret said forebodingly, gesturing to Tanker.

   "Y'know what, Pointy?" Tanker began as though on cue. "I've had this feeling since we got here that this world needs something. Something really important is missing."

   "Oh, really?" Sydney said absently, nose buried in an ancient tome of wisdom that they had coincidentally found lying at the side of the road. Due to the words, "Key Item", emblazoned on the red leather front in gold, Sam had thought it best to pick it up just in case, and Sydney had wholeheartedly agreed. After all, it would probably only take her a few minutes to read it – only seven hundred pages – but at least it would take the worst edge off her book withdrawal.

   "Yeah! And I think I know what it is!"

   "Oh, really?"

   "Yeah; football!"

   "Good," Sydney murmured absently, turning the page.

   "Alright, listen up, kids," Adelbarret began in a tone that brooked no argument. "The first thing we're gonna do is get to a shop and find the little princess something proper to fight with!"

   "But what?" Sam asked, scratching his head.

   "It doesn't matter! A clod of dirt would be more effective than a pretty little stick," the woman replied, glancing scornfully at the staff dangling limply from the girl's hand. "We'll get her a sword."

   "But...who's going to teach her how to use it?" Tanker asked, perplexed.

Adelbarret came to such an abrupt stop that Sydney walked directly into her.

   "Oof!" she squeaked before gasping in horror. "Oh, no! I bent one of the pages!"

   "What is that?" Adelbarret demanded impatiently, pointing to the sword hanging at Tanker's side.

   "A sword," Tanker replied with a shrug, wondering where on earth this strange woman was going with this.

   "And what is that?" she asked, pointing to Sam's sword.

   "A sword," Tanker began to reply before falling silent, his expression becoming very much like that of a person working through a complex math problem in his head. "Oh."

   "Yeah," Adelbarret agreed shortly. "I think between the two of you, she'll be able to pick up something."

   "Well, the weapon shop is right over there," Sam informed everyone, pointing at the placard swinging merrily above the door, a crudely drawn sword displayed on it.

   "Great! Let's go get you a new sword, Syd!" Tanker said enthusiastically. "I love girls with swords…"

   "That's gotta have some Freudian meaning," Adelbarret sighed, rubbing the bridge of her nose wearily.

   "Huh?" Sydney asked, finally looking up from her book.

   "You want me to what?" the shopkeep asked, shooting the other men milling about the shop a look of utter disbelief, which they returned sympathetically.

   "Look, this shouldn't be hard to understand if you're a reasonably intelligent mammal," Adelbarrert growled, leaning over the counter. "We want to buy a sword for the little lady. She's not too strong, so we want you to suggest one that she could handle."

The shopkeep shook his head, chuckling to himself. Then, clearing his throat, he looked up.

   "Look, doll," he began.

This was as far as he got before he found a ladle being waved beneath his nose…but just barely.

   "Look, ma'am," he tried again. "That kid there, he looks like a swordsman to me."

Adelbarret glanced over her shoulder at Tanker, to whom the man was clearly pointing.

   "Yeah, he's a knight," she shrugged. "So what?"

   "Well, that kid's carrying a sword, too," he replied, gesturing to Sam.

   "So?" she asked impatiently.

   "Don't you know The Rules?" the shopkeep demanded, flabbergasted, more because he liked saying that word – even though he didn't – than because the woman's lack of knowledge of customs of travelling groups had shocked him. "You can't have three swordsmen in a group! Heck, two is a stretch. By all rights, I should be taking away the blond kid's sword and giving him a dagger, or something."

   "No!" Sam whimpered sadly, huggling the weapon, and luckily having intelligence enough to keep it in the scabbard. "My sword!"

The shopkeep laughed.

   "All right, all right. I won't try to take it away. I'm just sayin', I can't sell you a sword. And anyway, it's obvious that the little girlie over there's a magic user."

   "Huh?" Sydney asked, looking up once more from her book. But only once, she would likely have warned, had she succumbed entirely to the silliness of the situation. 

   "Well, that was a bust," Sam muttered dejectedly, kicking something large and shiny with the toe of his boot.

   "Yeah, bud, we know. We were there," Tanker reminded him waspishly, also kicking the large, shiny thing.

   "Hey, hey, hey, careful with that!" Adelbarret exclaimed. "That's a sword! And if I'm not mistaken, it's a lot better than that cheap piece of garbage you're carrying now, armour-boy."

   "Hey, I think you're right!" Tanker said excitedly, reaching for it.

   "Why does Ed get the new sword?" Sam demanded, rather hurt.

   "'Cause I'm a knight," Tanker said smugly and with highly questionable logic.

Sam shrugged.

   "Okay, I guess I can't argue with that."

And no more was said on that branch of the subject.

   "This is great," Tanker enthused, sliding his old sword out of his scabbard and sliding his new sword in. "Now that I have a new one, I can get rid of this old thing!"

Then, proving that he was indeed of lesser intelligence compared to…well, everyone and everything in the nearby vicinity, including the rock lying at the toe of his boot, he prepared to toss the old sword over his shoulder.

   "Oh, brother," Adelbarret grumbled as people shrieked and dodged out of the way of a flying sword. Then she stalked over to Tanker and gave him a good swift kick in the kneecap.

'Ping!' went Adelbarret's foot off of Tanker's well-armoured knee.

   "Ow!" said Tanker, unprepared for this assault.

   "You deserve it, you idiot," Adelbarret informed him severely.

   "Why?" he asked, blinking in confusion.

   "Ergh…" the large woman erghed. Then, with a deadly sort of calm, she continued. "Two reasons. First of all, Ed, what is the most important quality of a sword?"

   "To be sharp," Tanker replied right away. "If there's one thing I know, it's swords! If there are two things I know, it's swords and football. If there are three things I know-"

   "If there are three things you know, that's two more than I expected," Adelbarret said, glaring at him. "Now, let's continue. Yes, swords are sharp. That's why flinging them around while you're on a fairly populated town street is a bad idea! Get it?"

Tanker nodded.

   "Good boy. Now, second reason. Where were we just now?"

Tanker pondered this.

   "We were in the weapons shop."

   "Very good. Now. Why were we in the weapons shop?"

The sound of leather gloves rubbing a metal helmet as Tanker scratched his head filled the air.

   "Uh…we wanted to buy a weapon, I guess," he shrugged.

Adelbarret very deliberately turned around and counted a hundred to give herself time to calm down.

   "What sort of weapon?"

   "Wasn't it a sword?"

   "Hallelujah! He's figured it out!" Sam snickered from the sidelines.

   "Shut up!" Adelbarret barked before turning back to Tanker. "Alright. Next question. Who was this sword gonna be for?"
   "Pointy," Tanker replied immediately. "Girls with swords are cool…"

   "Hey, what were you saying about Freud?" Sam asked, snorting with laughter.

   "And what happened when we tried to buy the sword?" Adelbarret continued, ignoring Sam.

   "He wouldn't give us one, right?"

   "Yeah. He wouldn't give us one. So, in other words, we don't have a sword for Pointy. Now do you see the first reason that throwing away your SPARE SWORD might be dumb?"

Tanker thought about this for a long time. Seconds turned to minutes. Minutes turned to hours. Sam, Sydney, and Adelbarret went for dinner. When they returned, Tanker hadn't moved from his 'thoughtful' pose. Finally, as they returned from a round of late-evening drinks, Tanker found his answer.

   "Not really," he admitted.

Seeing that Adelbarret was too incensed by this time to speak without erupting into a violent rage, Sam answered for her.

   "Ed, we were trying to find a sword for Pointy. Now we have an extra one to give her."

   "Oh!" Tanker exclaimed. "Right!"

   "'Right,' he says," Adelbarret grumbled, clutching her ladle tightly.

   "Look, guys," Sam interrupted briskly, cool and business-like for the second time ever. "Let's just give Pointy the sword. We can start training her to use it tomorrow."

   "Good idea," Tanker agreed. "Catch, Pointy."

Sydney, who was still absorbed with her book, and who was still getting used to being addressed as 'Pointy,' utterly missed this warning, and the next second, sat in the dust, unable to stand, rubbing her sore head.

    "Ow," she whimpered plaintively. Then, seeing Tanker's sheepish look, she sent him a poisonous glare. "I suppose you think that was funny."

   "Actually, Pointy, I think it was an accident," Sam interjected on his friend's behalf.

   "Shut up!" she barked, leaping to her feet and then reaching for the sword.

Tanker was just beginning to back away nervously from the sword-wielding girl, when an odd thing happened.

The sword flew suddenly from her grasp, nearly impaling another innocent and unfortunate passer-by.

Sam looked at Tanker. Tanker looked at Sydney. Sydney down at her hand, then at the sword, and then at Adelbarret. Adelbarret hid her head in her hands in despair.

   "I don't damn well believe it," she groaned. "The damn thing rejected her!"

Sam blinked.

   "Uh…what?"

   "I knew the rules were enforced kinda rigidly, but I didn't think they were this deeply ingrained."

   "Uh, Adelbarret?" Sydney said slowly. "What are you talking about?"

   "Well," the older woman sighed. "When that guy in the shop said you couldn't use a sword, he meant that you couldn't use a sword."

   "Oh," Sydney said somewhat dejectedly. Then she brightened. "Oh, well. I still have my stick!"

With that, she proceeded to whap Tanker soundly upside the head with it.

   "That's the stuff," she sighed happily.

   "Is it raining?" Tanker wondered, glancing up at the sky, wondering what had just hit him.

Adelbarret, despite her annoyance, couldn't suppress a snort of laughter at this.

   "Alright, alright, alright. Obviously the sword isn't gonna work, Pointy, so we'll just have to find something else for you to use."

   "Oh, we'll think of something," Sydney assured her. "Now, let's go see Dr. Rozenstot!"

   "Oh, right. That's why we're here," Sam said, nodding thoughtfully. "I've gotta admit, I kinda forgot there."

   "Me, too," Tanker said.

Adelbarret looked at Sydney. Sydney looked at Sam. Sam looked at Adelbarret.

Then, all three shook their heads simultaneously. It was just far too easy a shot for any respectable person to take.

   "So, this is where Rozenstot lives?" Sam asked dubiously as the four approached the front door of a fairly drab grey stone house a few streets from the centre of town.

   "Yup," Sydney replied cheerfully.

Sam frowned.

   "Are you sure? Plot points always look a little…I don't know…jazzier than this, don't they?"

   "Plot points?" Adelbarret repeated, scratching her head. "What the hell are you babblin' about now, kid?"

   "Never mind," Sam said quickly. "Let's just go knock, okay?"

With a shrug, Sydney stepped forward to do so. Within the cottage, the sound of footsteps grew gradually louder. The next moment, the door swung open to reveal a very familiar looking young woman with dark hair and skin, clad in brown short-shorts, a white tanktop, suspenders, a yellow tie, and green gloves and boots.

   "Can I help you?" she asked in a brisk, no-nonsense voice.

Sam, Sydney, and Tanker stared in silent bewilderment.

   "Yoli?" Sam finally managed to squeak out.

   "Uh, no, I'm Tiffie," the girl returned, shooting Adelbarret, who had apparently been the member of the group to retain her sanity, a curious look.

   "Hey, what's with you three?" Adelbarret demanded. "Pointy, you say you needed to talk to this Rozenstot guy? So, go do it!"

   "Um, right," Sydney agreed with a little laugh. "So, Miss Tiffie, does Dr. Rozenstot still live here?"

   "Dr. Rozenstot is my father," she replied guardedly. "Why do you need to see him?"

   "Look, suffice it to say, it's important," Tanker interjected, leaving his three fellow travellers wondering where on earth he learned a long word like 'suffice'.

Tiffie regarded them suspiciously for a moment, and finally opened the door the rest of the way and stepped aside to let the four enter the cottage.

   "Who should I tell him is here?"

   "Well, you can say it's Smashing Pumpkin, but it wouldn't be true," Sam chuckled. "Ow," he concluded mournfully as a ladle connected with the side of his head.

   "Um, it's Yuluku, an old student," Sydney replied quickly, surreptitiously removing the machine gun from Adelbarret's belt in the interest of keeping Sam alive.

Shaking her head in confusion and laughing slightly, Tiffie turned and started up the staircase to the left of the door.

Once alone, the four stood awkwardly in the doorway, carefully taking in their surroundings. The interior of the cottage was much as the exterior had been: simple, neatly kept, and entirely, entirely average. A table and four chairs stood in the middle of the room, a few couches upholstered in forest green had been pushed along one wall. Bookcases lined the rest of the walls, resulting in the need for Sam, Tanker, and Adelbarret to restrain Sydney, whose eyes had gone instantly wide and shiny in delight at the sight of such a treasure trove.

   "C'mon, just let me go read a few," she pleaded, straining against Tanker's arm around her waist and Sam's and Adelbarret's arms wrapped tightly around each of hers. "I could probably be done four and back here before they got downstairs!"

   "Still have a bit of an addiction, don't you, Princess?" a friendly, jovial, and chillingly familiar voice laughed from the bottom of the staircase.

Sam, Sydney, and Tanker froze in shock for a moment, and then turned slowly to face the newcomer.

   "Principal Pratchert?!" Tanker hissed to Sam.

Sam groaned inwardly before muttering back to Tanker,

   "Why am I even surprised anymore?"