2. Getting registered
"You’re an orc, right? An orc using a softening spell?"
"No!"
"An unusually attractive ogre?"
"No! How dare you?"
The barman had led Fred down a flight of worn stone steps and into the cellar. Beyond the barrels of beer stood a heavy oak desk, behind which the barman sat. Fred shifted awkwardly in the armchair opposite him.
"What are you then? I need to register you!"
"I’m an elf, I’ll have you know!" Fred bristled, torn between wanting to deck the officious barman and the desire to understand what was going on.
"Really? Where did all those muscles come from? Did you get hold of some ‘roids? Did a gym bro magically pop through a portal and pass you some pills?"
Fred had no idea what most of those words meant, but he had had enough of being insulted. He made to get up, but the chair clamped tight around him, the plush cushions swelling and then solidifying.
"Let me go!"
"Sorry, I can’t until you’re registered. And even then, I can’t until i’m convinced you’re not going to be a complete liability!"
Fred let his body relax, determined to get whatever this was over and done with.
"So, you’re an elf. How did you get here?"
"I made a portal pill."
The barman raised his eyebrows. "Very elvish of you. Why did you choose to come here?"
"I didn’t! This is just where the portal pill brought me. That’s how they work. Do, erm, leprechauns, like you, not use them?"
A flash of anger lit up the barman’s eyes.
“Leprechaun? I’ll have you know I’m an elf, just like you claim to be.”
“Aren’t you a bit… short?”
Fred was right. If he was bulky for an elf, the guy on the other side of the desk was at the other extreme. In fact, Fred now noticed that he was sat on a pile of cushions in order to bring himself up to the same eye height as a typical human.
“That’s what 200 years of drinking whisky will do to you!”
Fred had plenty of questions, but for the moment, he just wanted out of this chair. His interrogator seemed to have decided the same, calmed himself, and continued with the questions.
“So, your arrival was accidental. How did I miss you falling through the portal?”
“Hero landing pose,” Fred murmured, sheepishly.
“Ah! Not the first time that’s happened. I really should get an alarm put on that thing. How do you aim to support yourself? Any skills or a job in mind?”
“I have some coins with me?”
Fred tried to reach the money bag on his belt, but the chair was too tight. The other elf recognised his plight and loosened the chair off just enough for him to reach it.
“Pass me the bag. I don’t want you pulling any tricks on me. There are all kinds of failsafes built into this system, in case you were wondering. Knock me out, and you’ll be stunned too, young man, but that would be a waste of both of our time.”
He shook out the contents of the bag onto the worn leather surface of the desk. Heavy gold coins spilt out on top of each other with a satisfying clatter.
‘Hmmm… Not bad! 200 years ago that would have made you rich! It won’t last you more than a couple of years these days.”
“Years? That will be fine then, right? If I spend it all I can just go home!”
“This is home now, lad, whether you like it or not! This world is under permanent travel restrictions for its own safety. If we ever allow you to go home, your mind will be wiped of everything that has happened here. You won’t even find traces in your dreams!”
Fred processed this new information. He hadn’t even thought of the possibility of never going home. In fact, he had expected the portal to take him to the other side of the world, perhaps, but not a totally different world!
“Why? Why couldn’t I go home? From the sounds of it, you could let me. Why wouldn’t you?”
The barman sighed.
“In your world, who can do magic?”
“Pretty much anyone.” Fred shrugged. “Sometimes there are reasons why someone can’t, but yeah, most people can.”
“It’s the other way round here. Most people can’t, and the few beings that can try to stay well-hidden, after millennia of persecution.
If you went home and told everyone about this place, we’d soon be flooded with tourists, con artists and, worst case scenario, armies, trying to take a piece of this virtually unprotected planet.
We have a few species ready to fight back, all the dragons for example, but the humans would never survive!
I just can’t let you go back with your mind in tact. ”
“So what happens now? You said you can’t let me loose yet. Where do I go? What do I do?”
“You’ll stay here for now. I’ll get Shandy to look after you. But first, you need a phone.”
“A what?”
“A phone? Mobile? Mobile telephone? Look! I always have one ready.”
The elf opened a desk drawer and pulled out a slender metal box, which he illuminated with a touch of his hand.
“This is yours. Take care of it. Humans have objects that look like this, but this is a special edition for inter-dimensional immigrants like yourself. I see you already got a few numbers. Let me take care of that for you.”
He pointed the phone at Fred, and all the phone numbers he had been given slid off his skin and appeared neatly written on the phone, complete with a little picture of each of the girls.
“My name is there too, see?” he said, pointing to the words Bob Zurunkle. “It’s not my original name, of course. I wouldn’t go giving that to an unknown magic user in this world! And you? What’s your name?”
Fred thought a moment. A half truth would suffice, surely.
“Fred… Frederick Truthsayer.”
He knew he blushed, lies always made him blush, but Bob was busy tapping away at a bigger metal box, so didn’t see. Fred didn’t know what world Bob was from, but if he knew Fred’s world at all, giving his name away was far more of a risk than simply becoming more vulnerable to magic.
“Right! Fully registered. You have your phone, and I have your details. Shandy can do the rest. You’re not the first heroic idiot to fall through that ceiling. She’ll know what to do.”
The chair relaxed completely, sagging back to its normal shape, and the two elves got up from the table.
“Like Little and Large,” Bob chuckled.
“What?”
“It’s okay. I’ve been here too long. Ignore me. They all do eventually.”