The VoiceMail of Saurman
I warned you! This is a triple espresso mocha grandé with extra whipped cream and shot of creme d'menth. You may need therapy after this...
They passed through the ruins and the wading pool, being splashed by sporting ThermEnts as they were cavorting and casually continuing to destroy any gobblings or horcs they found floundering in the lake of coffee they had made. Here and there, covered with whipped cream and wreckage, was a wilderness of tumbled rock, pitted with blackened holes, and dotted with posts and pillars leaning drunkenly this way and that. At the rim of the bowl there lay vast mounds and slopes of coffeebeans, like pebbles heaped by the hands of the sea. They followed the road, shallowly covered with lukewarm coffee, their horse's hooves splashing and churning the brown fluid.
Grandélf turned to his companions and said, "I must pay a farewell visit to Sacchrineman. Dangerous, and possibly embarrassing but it must be done. Those of you who wish may with me- but beware! And do not jest! This is not open-mike night."
"I will come," said Gemli. "I wish to see this mighty celebrity and learn if he truly looks like you."
"And how will you learn that, Master Dwarf?" said Grandélf. "Sacchrineman could look like me in your eyes, if it suits his purposes. He has an extensive make-up trailer and the most skilled technicians. Are you yet wise enough to detect all his counterfeits? Well, we shall see, perhaps. He may have stage fright showing himself before many different eyes together. Perhaps we can persuade him to come out."
"What's the danger?" asked Drippin. "Will he shoot at us, or pour fire out of the windows?"
"Worse. He may sing to us. An out-of-work dilettante is not safe to approach. Beware of his voice!"
They came now to the foot of the tower. It was black, and it had no colour. Dark was the stone, and it seemed to absorb light and did not throw it back. There was a great door high above the ground, and over it was a shuttered window, opening upon a balcony hedged with iron bars. Up to the threshold of the door mounted a flight of twenty-seven steps. It was the only entrance to the tower.
Grandélf climbed the stairs and beat upon the door with his staff. Then he saw the doorbell and pulled on the rope. A soft chiming sounded, rather gothic and fugue-like. For a moment there was no answer, then suddenly a voice spoke, low and melodious, its very sound an enchantment. "Welcome to Isencoaster. I am not home right now, but if you want to leave a message, just start talking..."
"Seems he isn't here, Grandélf," said Aromagorn. "We have reached his voicemail."
"I am willing to bet that he is here; he screens his callers." Grandélf rapped on the door again, shouting "Sacchrineman! I know you are in there! Come forth!"
"Well?" came the gentle question, that same voice now unstilted by recording, "Why must you disturb my meditation? Will you give me no peace at all by night or day? Who wants an autograph?"
They glanced up in surprise, for they had heard no sound of his coming. He stood at the rail, looking down upon them; and old man swathed in a great dressing gown, a make-up bib still tucked beneath his beard. The colour of the dressing gown was difficult to tell; it was beaded with sequins that changed as they moved their eyes or he stirred. His make-up was perfect and his hair slicked back.
"Come now, two of you at least I know by name. Gandgulp I know too well to have much hope that he seeks souvenirs here. But you, Karòden King, why have you not come before? I could have got you box seats! Shall we take council together and leave behind these lesser beings who cannot appreciate the Arts. I would that you become my patron, and I your personal entertainment package. What say you?" Karòden did not answer, but Héomer and MochaMerry and Drippin made rude noises, and Gemli and Legolatté were defacing the marquee displaying Sacchrineman's performance dates.
The artfully painted face of Sacchrineman underwent a hideous change. "Peons! You are incapable of appreciating my work! What is the house of Karo, but a pancake hall where corn syrup drips in the reek, and their brats waffle on the floor! Grahma told me you were not fit to sleep with pigs... to think I stood up for you and said that you were!" He stood up to his full height, aided by platform toe-shoes. "I know not why I have the patience to speak to you! Contact my agent!" He turned and left the balcony in a huff.
"Come back, Sacchrineman!" said Grandélf. To the amazement of the others, Sacchrineman obeyed. "I did not give you leave to go. You have become a fool, not a diva. You could still turn away from your folly and aid us. The master of the Black Café will cheat you. Join us, and we shall show you mercy."
Sacchrineman hesitated, as if considering Grandélf's proposal. "Can I have top billing?" he asked slyly.
"Fat chance, grandpa," muttered MochaMerry. Drippin snickered.
Hearing the half-caff's jest, Sacchrineman becomes angry. He leans on the rail, grinding his dentures and trying to think of something nasty to say.
Before he can speak, something falls from the upper window, passes close to Sacchrineman's hand, striking the rail with a shower of sparks, then bounces on the step at Grandélf's feet. It rolled down the stairs to come to a spinning stop at Drippin's toes.
Grandélf raised his hand as said in a loud clear voice, "Sacchrineman, your career is over!" and the marquee fell with a crash, and the light with Sacchrineman's name burned out, and his box office returns plummeted as if Rosie O'Donnell had offered to finance him. The has-been performer crawled back into his tower to whine and consider going into politics.
Drippin picked up the strange thing that had fallen beside him. It looked like a large crystal coffeebean, and it was dark and lit from within as if it had a glowing heart of fire. It felt heavy and warm in the half-caff's hands.
"Drop it, kiddo," said Grandélf, snatching the PalanTV from Drippin's hands. "I will take care of this. I don't want to see this turn up on eBay!"