Eaglethorpe Buxton and the Sorceress by Wesley Allison Page B

all, you are handsome, though not so much as
I had been led to expect. Flirtations have been thrown but none
have been caught.”
    “That's pretty hard to believe,” said I,
truly puzzled.
    “Indeed,” she purred into my ear. “It
presents something of a challenge to me.”
    “I'm afraid I don't follow,” said I.
    “I'm going to be the one to quench that
fire.”
    “The campfire?”
    “The fire of passion.”
    “Okay,” said I. “Yes, that would be fine.
Sounds good.”
    “You're surprisingly acquiescent,” said
she.
    “If you have your mind made up on
something,” I replied, “who am I to stand in your way?”
    “First though, you are going to lead me to
Eaglethorpe Buxton.”
    “Couldn't you quench my fire first and then
I could lead you to Eaglehorn Humpton? I would be ever so much more
relaxed that way.”
    “Eaglethorpe Buxton,” she corrected. “And
no. I don't want you relaxed. I want you focused. We find him
first. Only then will you receive your reward.”

Chapter Three: Wherein I hear from my
harshest critic.

    We stepped outside of the Singing Siren and
headed up the winding stone street, the breaking waves of the ocean
far below down the hill to our left. I was at something of a loss
as to where to search for the famous story-teller and adventurer
Eaglethorpe Buxton, not the least of which was because he was me,
though I didn't say as much. I did know where I didn't want to
go.
    “Why don't we go back to that sorry excuse
for a theater and look for him there,” said Myolaena Maetar.
    “No, I don't want to go there,” said I.
“What I mean is that I don't think we would find him there.”
    “Why not?”
    “There are a lot of people who know me at
the theater... and they know that no good Buxton, and they might
see that we are after him and give him a warning. He might skip
town and we would have to search the entire country of Lyrria for
him.”
    “That's a good point,” she agreed. “Where
shall we look for him?”
    “I have a few spots in mind,” I lied. “Why
don't you tell me what he has done to anger you so?”
    “Have you not seen the travesty he calls a
play?”
    “I thought it quite a fine play,” I said,
truthfully.
    “He maligned my character.”
    “Perhaps the author was misguided by some
incorrect information,” I suggested. “It is no doubt misinformation
that you once tried to usurp the throne of the King of
Aerithraine.”
    “No,” she admitted. “That part was
true.”
    “Well, surely you did not attempt to
ensorcel the King.”
    “That part was true as well,” she said.
    “Mayhaps you did not really consort with a
dragon?”
    “No. That is not the part that was
wrong.”
    “Then perhaps you could enlighten me as to
exactly what element of the play brought forth your ire, which is
to say, made you unhappy.”
    “You might note that the playwright’s deus
ex machina involves me accidentally falling victim to my own
magic.”
    “God in the machine?”
    “The machination of the gods—it is how poor
story tellers fix holes in their plotlines.”
    “I thought that bit where you ensorcelled
yourself was rather funny.”
    “Funny at my expense. That would never
happen.”
    “And I would hardly call it a deus ex
machinegun…”
    “Deus ex machina.”
    “I don’t think it qualifies at all,” said I.
“It’s not as though that couldn’t happen…”
    “It couldn’t happen.”
    “It’s within the realm of possibility…”
    “It is impossible.”
    “I don’t think we have the same definition
of ‘impossible’.”
    “Not possible; unable to exist, happen, or
be,” she said. “Unable to be done, performed, effected, etc.”
    “Yes,” I confirmed. “That is the definition
I usually use.”
    “Not to be done or endured with any degree
of reason or propriety.”
    “Well, not quite to the point, but…”
    “Utterly impracticable, totally unsuitable,
difficult, or objectionable.”
    “I suppose that last part fits your point