The Magnificent Maron Maloney - Part 2/4

Petting the Tiger. Cooling the Water. The Spectacle. Secrets.

It was a starry, starry night, and fireflies swarmed overhead like drifting embers. A light breeze blew through the whispering pines behind the Swindle & Swine. There were smells of fried pork, roasted beets, and freshly-baked cakes and pastries. Beeswax candles were lined along the porch railings. And halflings of all kinds gathered in the clearing beside the inn to attend the outdoor show.

Taika knew, deep in his heart, the Magnificent Maron Maloney was a showman, and he loved what he did. Maron lived to bring what was exotic and far away closer so that it could be seen, smelled, and touched. He was a man who understood the magic in ordinary things. Although none of Maron’s actions could be excused, she felt his intention to peddle amazement and joy was sincere.

Taika Maru lay on the ground beside a roaring fire, surrounded by eight halfling children who caressed, petted, and lay against her. They crawled on her. They rolled into her fur. They scritched behind her ears, ran their hands across her whiskers, hugged her like she was a carpet, and tried to wiggle her sharp teeth. Taika adored the attention.

Taika could see the other petting stations circling the fire.

Near her, Hornsby the owlbear cub lay on his back with a whole salmon braced between his four legs. The more intrepid amongst the crowd cautiously petted his belly as he ate.

Pip and the songbirds fluttered about, landing on the shoulders and arms and hair of spectating halflings and sang pleasant tunes.

Returning frequently to the fire, Ammon took six halflings at a time for rides down the street.

A gaggle of halfling children chased the ferrets and raced around the Swindle’s grounds. They were enthusiastically pursued by the clumsy, yapping two-headed death dog that kept tripping over its own feet.

And a curious crowd had gathered around the flumph’s cage to listen to Maron Maloney. On top of the cage, Kimchi, the orange cat, sat upright and relaxed on her haunches, displaying a cynical, disinterested expression. 

“Flumphs are native to the Underdark, a vast network of caverns far away from here,” Maron said in a breathy voice that seized everyone’s attention. “They’re like jellyfish, aren’t they? And see how it's a warm pinkish color? Now, don’t be alarmed, but flumph feed off of psychic energies, and it’s happily consuming your curious and positive feelings right now!”

Onlookers held and caressed the flumph’s translucent blue tendrils that escaped the boundary of the cage. Its eye stalks turned and twisted, seemingly as curious about halflings as they were of it.

Weaving through the patrons on the porch carrying a tray of used dishes and empty tankards, Elina Hogsbreath entered the kitchen through its back door. She set the tray on the counter beside Benzie, who was elbows-deep in dirty dishwater, cleaning and drying as fast as he could.

“I’m telling you, Elina, that tiger talked to me!” Benzie insisted, scrubbing a plate with a rag. “Something’s not right!”

Elina rolled her eyes. Benize had been this way ever since Maron Maloney arrived. She wiped her hands and went to her cooking counter to slice more cucumbers. “Animals can’t talk, Benzie. They’ve improper mouths, tongues, vocal cords - beaks, for Mother’s sake. They’re simply incapable.”

“That’s not what I mean!” Benzie hissed, scowling through the kitchen window to watch the show. “She listened … the tiger … and understood what I said. She nodded at me! She told me Maron was dangerous!”

“Benzie, you’re imagin’ things,” Elina replied dismissively. Sliding the slices of cucumber onto a tray, she tore sprigs of rosemary and put them all into a glass pitcher, and brought the pitcher to the pump near Benzie. Smirking as she drew the water, Elina added, “It’s no doubt Mister Maloney puts on a good show. I got his name from the owners of the Whimsey & Woe in Ehrendvale. They’d nothin’ but good things to say ‘bout Mr. Maloney.”

Benize’s eyes widened, and he flipped his fingers from his forehead to the window. “Elina, have you seen those animals? How docile they are? How obedient?”

Removing the filled water pitcher, Elina shrugged. “They’re well-trained, Benzie. I know the concept’s lost on you.” Elina took the pitcher to a countertop lazy susan made of warped wood taken from a shipwreck scavenged from the northernmost coast. Runes of a forgotten and ancient tongue were carved along its parameter.

“A little too trained, if you ask me,” Benzie sneered. Narrowing his eyes, Benize watched Maron Maloney work the crowd as he busily returned to scrubbing. 

Setting the pitcher in the middle of the lazy susan, Elina placed her finger on its edge and slowly rotated it while reciting its incantation aloud. As it turned, the glass pitcher fogged and chilled, crystals formed within the water, and ice dripped down its side.

“Well, don’t let it eat you. He’s here for the night an’ nothin’ more,” Elina said, taking the cold water pitcher to her tray; the lazy susan was left coated in a bitter white frost. “Then off to Ehrendvale, to the Whimsey, I’d wager.”

Benzie pressed his lips together while drying a stack of plates, and grumbled, “All night, eh? Well, I’ll get to the bottom of it.”

“Stay on it,” Elina said, pushing the door open with her behind. She gestured to the counter. “The dishes, I mean. Save the sleuthing for your off-hours.”

Benzie grimaced and brought another handful of dishes into the sink.

Pressing her way past the crowd, Elina approached tavern patrons sitting at porch tables. She refilled their tin cups and made idle chatter with folks she knew along the way.

“Water?” growled an inebriated older halfling. Rolling in his chair, he sipped from his refilled flagon with disgust.

Elina scolded him as she passed. “Jacob Barkfoot, you’re drunk an’ I’m cuttin’ you off. Y’freshen’up a bit before I send y’back to your pretty wife an’ four wee ones. Saede’ll never forgive me if I don’t!”

“Bah!” Jacob dismissed, nearly falling out of his chair. He drank as if the water tasted like acid. He grimaced. “Oh, oh, that-that’s just awful. Is that cucumber?”

“Hmm!” Elina grunted judgmentally, spinning around and dashing off to serve another table.

Jacob Barkfood grumbled and begrudgingly took another swallow. “Ugh, cobblers, hurts my teeth,” he groaned, rubbing at his teeth with his finger and setting the mug on the table.

Meanwhile, an orange cat, winding her way under the porch tables, pressed her warm body up against his feet.

“Huh?” Jacob said, looking underneath. Comparatively speaking, Kimchi was the size of a St. Bernard to Jacob. Kimchi’s sleepy eyes watched him as she dragged her cheek against his kneecap.

“Well now,” Jacob said, drunkenly chortling and leaning forward to pet the cat. Kimchi watched him slyly and rolled her head, directing Jacob to scratch around her jaw, up and behind her ears, then the sweet spot, her muzzle. Kimchi purred loudly with delight, albeit mostly for his benefit. Jacob smiled, saying, “Why, uh, aren’t you a … a big ol’ butterball?”

Kimchi removed her head from his reach, stopped purring, and glared angrily at Jacob, thoroughly unimpressed.

“Huh?” Jacob winced, but before he could retract his hand or think too hard about the cat’s reaction, Kimchi’s expression softened, and she pressed her head into his hand and continued purring. Jacob grinned and kept doing as he was instructed, petting her.

“Now!” Maron Maloney cried, drawing everyone’s attention. Maron removed his top hat by the brim and offered a greasy smile. “As you know, I, the Magnificent Maron Maloney, am a curator, a conservator of the rare and exotic!”

With a flourish, Maron Maloney opened his red-lined cape and withdrew a silver longsword. It appeared to come out of nowhere.

“Ithandril,” he breathed, and he held it out for all to see. “A mythical moonsword crafted by the hands of elvish lords! It is light, made of mithril, and its blade is laced with platinum and silver. If you hold it to the moonlight, you might glimpse its hidden inscriptions!”

Gently handing the blade off to the crowd, the halflings passed it around, and all tried to hold the weapon at an angle to reflect the light of the moon. Randomly, one halfling blurted out, “Oh, I see it!”

“This!” Maron exclaimed, extracting a small pine box from the folds of his cape. Presenting it to his audience, he slowly opened it, revealing a tiny, untarnished suit of polished platemail laying on a bed of red velvet. “Field armor worn by a fairy duke in a holy war waged against rampaging opossums!”

Passing that around, too, the crowd of halflings cheered and, once again reaching into his inner jacket pockets, Maron produced a green jade figurine. The crowd hushed, gathered closer to him so they might see, and gasped in awe. It was intricately carved and ancient. Holding it up for all to see, he said, “And this I found in the Stonereach, in the tomb of a Dwarven King!”

Throwing it up into the air above the fire, Maron shouted, “Animatus Figura!”

Upon Maron uttering the command, the figurine exploded in size to become a jade peryton. Bigger than Maron’s wagon, it had the body of an eagle with a broad, feathery wingspan, yet the head of a stag. It reared its green, antlered head and bellowed mightily, taking to the sky.

Screaming in both terror and amazement, the spectating halflings were thrown to the ground by the rush of wind forced from its jade wings, and a cloud of sparks and ash blustered from the fire. Screeching, the peryton soared into the nighttime, flapping its wings and banking above the Swindle. Maron appeared to control it, pointing into the night with his finger, guiding the peryton’s flight around the inn. The crowd of halflings scrambled to their feet to applaud, shout, and cheer, and to watch on, their eyes filled with wonder.

Taika yawned, stretched her back, and rose to her feet. Maron’s routines were fairly predictable. Now that the pettings were finished, she knew it’d soon be time for rations. Leaving the burgeoning chaos surrounding the fire, she slunk around the backside of Maron Maloney’s wagon.

“Yes! Yes!” Maron Maloney cackled, opening his arms wide  to invite all to enjoy the splendor of his spectacle.

And as the jade peryton circled above, he crouched and touched the earth, closed his eyes to concentrate on an image, and breathed, “Constituto Illusio!”

Suddenly, giant mushrooms erupted from the soil, broke free of the ground, and encircled the yard, their height as tall as trees, rising far above the heads of the halfling onlookers. And as their caps opened, their gills breathed a mist of rainbow-colored spores. The magic of the Elven sword was entirely forgotten and somebody dropped the box of fairy armor. Children spun hysterically in circles, adults held on to their spouses in breathless anticipation, and, above them all, the jade peryton shrieked triumphantly and came to hover over the fire, kicking up a rain of embers and smoke, making the Swindle appear like it was the center a battlefield.

Holding still his top hat, Maron was ecstatic, his mustached face made alight by the raging fire. The attention fueled his magic; the audience’s fascination fed the frenzy.

Nearby in its cage, the floating flumph turned a bright orange as it absorbed all of the crowd’s emotion, and its eyestalks shivered as it ate. 

Buttressed by monstrously-sized translucent mushrooms, Maron’s cape fluttered and snapped in the wind, and his hand remained extended toward the peryton. Hot floating embers danced in the smokey, spore-filled, rainbow-colored air, and, clenching his fist, he shouted at the top of his lungs, “Diminuere Figura!”

The jade peryton shrieked, shrunk to its original size, and fell from the air toward the fire, only to be caught by Maron’s hand.

“Oh my, that was wonderful!” Elina applauded from the porch as she picked up Jacob’s empty table. Patrons laughed and smiled, patting themselves on their shoulders and backs.

Gnawing at the leg bone of a jackal, tearing away the sinew and raw meat, Taika ate her meal behind the wagon. She heard Maron Maloney receive rousing applause, and he announced an intermission, encouraging everyone to explore the magical mushroom forest while he was away.

Kimchi trotted up from behind the wagon and was followed by a stumbling, half-witted Jacob Barkfoot. He carried a full mug of ale in his hand. He kept reaching out to pet Kimchi, only she would move away to lure him forward.

Kimchi shot Taika a knowing glance. 

“Ooo, you … you are a strange cat,” Jacob wobbled, falling off his feet to ram his shoulder into the wagon's side. His mug slipped, and he was doused by his drink. Sliding down the side of the wheel, Jacob looked at himself, touched his saturated clothes, and moaned. “Oh-oh no. Saede’ll kill me.”

“And what have we here?” asked Maron Maloney as he came around the opposite side of the wagon. He unfurled his red-lined cape and crouched to pet Kimchi. “Look what you’ve brought me. You are so good, daddy’s little girl, you are.”

Kimchi evilly sneered and ran her face across his petting hands.

Jacob blinked, trying to see the fuzzy outline of Maron Maloney in the firelight as Maron closed on him.

Crouching, Maron reached out with his finger and lifted Jacob’s chin. “What’s your name, sir?”

Jacob could barely think. He licked his lips and attempted to refocus his eyes on Maron lording over him. “J-Jacob?”

Maron Maloney reached into his inner jacket pockets and produced a silver flask. It was inlaid with a motif of animals. Unscrewing the lid, he repeated, “Jacob?”

Jacob couldn’t feel his feet anymore, and he certainly didn’t know which way was up. A sneaky suspicion lead him to believe that up was to his right, but naturally, his presumption was entirely wrong. Leaning awkwardly to his right, Jacob reached out to grasp the nearby wagon wheel. “I-I’ve got to go home. Saede-”

“You want to leave? So soon?” Maron said, tipping Jacob’s chin up and offering Jacob the silver flask. “But you only just got here.”

Accepting the cold flask in his small hands, Jacob brought its mouth closer to his lips. He smelled it, and the contents smelled of bitters and honey.

“Tell me, Jacob,” Maron asked, encouraging him to drink from the flask. “What’re you most partial to? Pigs? Goats? Have you ever seen a platypus? I’m rather hoping you like ducks.”

“P-platypus?” Jacob breathed, taking a long swing from Maron’s flask. “I-I’ve seen a … platypusses.”

Maron accepted the flask back from Jacob and shrugged, tightening the lid. “Shame, but I can work with it.”

Jacob’s eyes shot open. His cheeks puffed as if was going to throw up, and he cringed, keeled over to the dirt, and hugged his stomach.

Standing, Maron returned the flask to his inner jacket pocket as Kimchi went to him and lovingly circled his legs, pressing her body into his shins.

Maron turned to Taika, who busily gnawed at the jackal’s bone and bore witness to the assault.

Glancing at Jacob’s convulsing body and wiping his hands clean with a handkerchief, Maron said to Taika, “Over so many years, you and I? I’m glad we’ve come to … an understanding.”

Jacob gurgled. His teeth retracted into his skull, and his snout extended to become more like a bill. Jacob’s body shriveled in size and rolled into a fetal position, all while matted, coarse brownish hair sprouted out of his skin. His spine stretched and elongated; his legs snapped and broke, the bones condensing and shortening; his eyes grew wide, and his pupils dilated; his nails grew into claws, and the skin between his digits stretched into webbing on his hands and his feet.

Transformed, Jacob, now a platypus, crawled out from underneath his clothes, and Maron scooped Jacob into his arms.

“There, there,” Maron consoled, running his fingers along its black bill. He placed a shushing finger there and whispered, “This’ll be our little secret.”

Stepping near the wagon, the caged honey badger snarled and spit. Barty rolled and tried to swipe at Maron, his arm flailing from his cage. Recoiling, he urgently launched himself into the bars, slamming his body against them.

Nearby, Maron opened a small, empty pen beside Mrs. Featherby and put Jacob inside before sealing it.

Mrs. Featherby ruffled her feathers and looked dolefully at Maron as he stooped down to grab Jacob’s clothes from the ground and toss them into the wagon. 

“Calm down, Barty,” Maron whispered, smiling deviously. He winked at the honey badger, pulled at his waxed mustache, and said, “You know the show … must go on.”

Stepping out from behind the back of the wagon, Maron Maloney raised his arms and promised more to his adoring crowd.

Taika ripped a slab of muscle away from the jackal’s bone, chewed and shredded the meat, and wondered what charming sounds a platypus might make.