Date: Fri, 27 Mar 2015 07:56:26 -0400
From: George Gauthier <georgegauthierdc@gmail.com>
Subject: Elf-Boy's Friends 14

			Elf-Boy's Friends 14
			The Troll War, Part V
			Industrial Magic and Light
 			by George Gauthier

[The further adventures of characters from the novel 'Elf-Boy and Friends']

		Chapter 1. The Capital

The cute copper-topped youngster looked up from his desk at the Institute
for Wizardry as his roommate and lover Drew Altair walked in and greeted
him with a wave.

Drew was an impossibly cute twink with spiky auburn hair and narrow
sideburns reaching below the ear lobe plus straight eyebrows with almost no
curve to them. They framed a fine-boned face with a high forehead, chiseled
jawline, and a perky nose turned up just a bit at the end. Drew was slight
in build, standing only five foot zero and weighing but a hundred pounds,
yet his tiny frame was easily twice as strong as it looked, enhanced by the
same druidical healing magic that had lengthened his life and youth.

His lover Axel Wilde, still, only eighteen was nearly as short and fair of
skin, with hair the color of copper. Axel was extremely boyish looking, his
cute face dominated by large green eyes over heart-melting dimples.

"Congratulations again Drew on your third Writers' Prize."

Drew was still aglow from the awards dinner held the evening before.

"Thanks Axel, though my book about the troll war left the story
hanging. This war is far from over. The creatures are still on the attack,
scourging the coasts of the the Great Inland Freshwater Sea and the lands
lying up the rivers flowing into it."

"With their shallow draft longships they can row up small tributaries,
arriving before the news of their depredations downstream. Their mobility
is their chief advantage even more than their physical prowess compared to
humans."

Trolls were not particularly tall, generally standing about six feet, but
they were heavy boned and hugely muscled, weighing three hundred pounds or
so. They were wide and squat like dwarves only two feet taller. In a sense
trolls were to Frost Giants what dwarves were to humans, except they were
hideous whereas the dwarves were merely homely. The bodies of trolls were
hairy, and their faces were misshapen featuring beast-like muzzles with
jaws armed with two pairs of tusks. When grappling with a foe in close
combat, they could rip out his throat.

"And we still don't know where they come from. Somewhere in the southern
ocean is what the Admiralty thinks." Drew added.

"What lands lie out there anyway? I thought it was all endless swells on a
boundless ocean all the way to the south pole."

"Who really knows? So much of Haven is unexplored, especially in the higher
latitudes in both hemispheres. The ships that ply the outer oceans engage
in coastwise commerce or across the narrow seas to the other two continents
which straddle the equator. There is no reason for them to sail off toward
who knows where. The coastal states have never seen fit to outfit
expeditions to explore those regions. And it is not the job for the
Commonwealth anyway to find out. Situated as we are in the heart of the
continent, ours is not a salt water navy. The job of the Navy is the
security of navigation and of the states on the coasts of the the Great
Inland Freshwater Sea."

"Anyway let's ask our resident naval expert. What do you think Liam?"

Their fellow roommate and lover Liam served as a war wizard in the Navy
with the rank of Warrant Officer and had fought the trolls at sea near the
Scilly Isles and on land at the battle of Flensborg.

A well-set up lad with a fine healthy body, Liam was just under medium
height and on the slender side but with a strong upper storey. He had wide
shoulders and muscled arms from his former job as a teamster. Liam was
blessed with good looks too, a real raven-haired beauty though you would
have to describe him as pretty rather than handsome. His fine-boned
features were accented by a light sprinkling of freckles. He had the
mismatched eyes of a war wizard; his left eye was blue and the right
brown. Thanks to his wizard's eyes, his sight was keener than normal and he
could see in the dark or rather very dim light like a cat.

"From the southern coast of the continent come tales told in dockside
taverns of a vast archipelago lying far out to sea in temperate
latitudes. Sailors tell of a dark land of cruelty and endless conflict."

"That sounds like trolls all right." Axel commented. "Where did you get
that from, Liam?"

"From Nathan's last letter. He has been Mentioned in Dispatches for his
role in destroying another enemy flotilla at the Scilly Isles. The
Admiralty is transforming the roadstead there into a forward base of
operations for patrols in that sector of the the Great Inland Freshwater
Sea. They also rescued a plucky young castaway whom the trolls never
suspected was living on one of the islands."

"As you know, Nathan resumed his old posting on the Petrel, now under the
command of Captain-Lieutenant Dahlgren. Commodore Dekker wanted Nathan to
have room to grow, so he did not take him to the flagship when Dekker took
over Commodore Van Zant's squadron. He brought over only his cabin boy.

"Even Dekker's old sailing master Warrant Officer Crawley stayed with the
Petrel since as commodore of a squadron, Dekker would have to leave it to
his flag-captain to sail and fight his own flagship while he commanded the
squadron as a whole."

"Ah yes, Crawley.the Master of Magnetism," Drew recalled. "as I dubbed him
in my book, a neat turn of phrase, if I say so myself."

During the first battle against the trolls, Sailing Master Crawley had
invoked his magical gift and ripped the nails out of two of the enemy's
longships sending them and their crews to the bottom.

"Commodore, or should I say Admiral Van Zant, was right on with his
prediction that, once the Admiralty promoted him, he would never get
another chance to lead a landing party the way he did so valiantly at
Flensborg. He is pulling duty ashore these days, sailing a desk at the
Bureau of Ships."

"Not merely any desk; he is chief of the bureau, which is a plum job in the
Navy. The Navy likes to put a fighting admiral in charge of shipbuilding,
one backed up by a professional naval architect as his deputy."

"That's right. You have been cultivating the man, haven't you Drew?" Axel
asked.

"Of course. Van Zant is quite a character. Thoroughly competent, he is an
interesting conversationalist and can draw on a seemingly endless
collection of war stories and tall tales. And as a reporter for the Capital
Intelligencer it is my job to develop contacts and sources in the Navy as
good as those I already have in the Army. There's you, Nathan, Van Zant,
Dekker, and some of the officers in the main body of the High Seas Fleet."

"Anyway, you must have noticed that he bears more than a passing physical
resemblance to a troll, standing about six feet and weighing two hundred
fifty pounds -- all of it bone and muscle. No wonder he swings a mean
cutlass, as he likes to say."

"He is a lot nicer looking, though. No muzzle or fangs."

"You mean tusks. Trolls have tusks not fangs. Fangs are front teeth like
canines. Tusks are back teeth which protrude from a closed mouth. Now while
I wouldn't call the admiral handsome, he has a strong face, one that
inspires confidence. His men call him 'The Mean Cutlass' which is meant
both ironically and as a compliment to his prowess with the cutlass. As the
man showed during the battle of Flensborg, he does swing a mean cutlass."

"It's a naval tradition for the men to bestow a nickname on their
commanders, who in turn must pretend they are unaware of the moniker
conferred on them. Van Zant told me that back in the day, when he was just
starting out, two unpopular senior officers were called Old Fussbudget and
Old Pomp and Circumstance."

"Ouch!

"Exactly" Drew affirmed.

"So when are you going to sea again, Liam?" Axel asked anxiously.

"I hope that quaver in your voice is because you will miss me and not from
any concern about my closeness with Nathan. It is not true that a sailor
has a lover in every port. I am a whole lot more selective than that. I
prize quality over quantity. And that is definitely you, Axel Wilde:
quality."

The copper-headed lad smiled, clearly relieved by this assurance. Liam went
on to say.

"In fact I can count my lovers on the fingers of one hand, unlike some
persons I could name who would run out of fingers and toes long before the
ticked them all off."

"Hey!" Drew exclaimed. "I may be a social butterfly, but I do know the
difference between recreational sex and love. Setting aside my casual
romantic conquests, which I admit are many, I can tick off my real lovers
on just a few more fingers than you Liam."

He went on to reassure the young wizard's aide.

"Don't worry Axel. You not only saw Liam before Nathan did, you live with
him and share his bed and he yours. Don't begrudge Nathan the time he
spends with Liam on the Petrel. You would expect them to have bonded from
physical attraction, friendship, isolation aboard a ship at sea, and shared
dangers. Anyway, as the resident expert in these matters I can tell you
that love does not diminish just because it is shared with another."

"Anyway hasn't Liam encouraged you to widen your own circle of
acquaintance. After all, the way the two of us are always sticking our
necks out, we might someday get them chopped off, leaving you with no one."

"Perish the thought, but I take your point. And possessiveness is just not
healthy psychologically. Maybe I will set my cap for another fellow. Thanks
Drew for putting things in perspective."

"Anyway as for me going back to sea," Liam continued," the Admiralty is
reserving me for special duty rather than sending me on ordinary
patrols. Especially since we don't have that many war wizards in the Navy
these days, not with three of them on loan to smaller navies."

"Yes, I remember now. As Chief of the Bureau of Ships, Admiral Van Zant
bought the trio of nearly finished hulls used at Flensborg to block the
river, repaired and fitted them out with ballistas and catapults for flame
globes, and donated them to three of the small navies on the the Great
Inland Freshwater Sea. With one of our war wizards aboard plus their own
naval infantry, they make powerful naval combatants, certainly better than
revenue cutters and rescue boats, which was all those navies had before."

"The donated ships have become the nuclei of small squadrons of
warships. Van Zant had the longships captured from the trolls at Flensborg
rigged with fore and aft sails. The improved rigging make them better
sailors on open water, while their shallow draft lets their crews row them
up rivers and tributaries in pursuit of troll raiders. Weather wizards and
fetchers and firecasters have been recruited to provide magical firepower
once our war wizards returned home."

"So why has Sir Willet asked us all to meet with him today and why has he
invited the noted industrialist Angus McFarden as well?"

Liam and Drew looked interrogatively at Axel.

"Hey, just because I am Sir Willet's aide doesn't mean he tells me
everything."

Which was true as far as it went, but in fact Sir Willet had told his aide
what was up but had asked Axel to keep it to himself.

Just then Sir Willet entered his office. With him was the industrialist
Angus McFarden, the one-man industrial revolution whom Drew had dubbed King
of the Iron Roads.

McFarden had got things rolling, so to speak, in Grayling a city at the
head of navigation on the Long River. He had scaled up the trains of
barrows running on wooden rails in the iron mines to six-wheeled ore wagons
which were the height of a man and twice as long. These wagons ran on iron
rails a fathom wide fixed to ties resting on a bed of gravel.

His iron roads moved iron ore and coal the ten or twenty miles from the
mines to loading docks on rivers and canals where the cargo was dropped
onto barges. The roundabout rights of way followed the contours of the land
to ensure gentle slopes and an easy climb of the empty trains of wagons
back to the mines.

Pairs of Fetcher propelled the wagons with an assist from gravity going
downhill. The Fetchers did not have to lift the heavy loads, merely use
their gift to overcome inertia to get the wagons moving and to counter
rolling resistance and friction. Going uphill they were working against
gravity, but the track bed itself conferred the mechanical advantage of an
inclined plane.

The iron roads carried heavier loads faster and cheaper than animals ever
could. Two fetchers could move four times as much freight as the twenty
mule teams they replaced. And they ate a whole loss less too. A team of
twenty mules consumed hundred of pounds of oats and even larger quantities
of fodder every month. And you had to pay teamsters and grooms and
veterinarians and all the rest. And fetchers didn't leave a smelly mess
behind as draft animals did.

McFarden had been knighted for fostering an whole new industry which
drastically lowered the cost of moving heavy freight on land. He had
recently been named by a major business association as its entrepreneur of
the decade.

McFarden's latest project was a streetcar system for the cities of the
Commonwealth starting with the capital itself. The flat terrain of the
alluvial plain was ideal for the purpose. A single Fetcher propelled a car
down tracks laid flush to the paving stones. The street cars traveled at
about twice walking speed and stopped at marked locations every three
blocks. Riders either chucked two coppers into the fare box or flashed a
monthly ticket.

The streetcars were popular: fast, convenient, quiet, inexpensive, and
safe. They had an unblemished safety record -- no collisions with
pedestrians or vehicles in the first four months. Running into a pedestrian
or vehicle was almost impossible with an operator who could simply Lift
anyone or anything on the tracks to safety. There had been just a couple
accidents when wagons or horses had collided with a halted streetcar.

			Chapter 2. The Participants

"Good afternoon." Sir Willet said to Liam, Axel, and Drew. "I know you have
all heard or Sir Angus McFarden or read of him in Drew's accounts in his
newspaper or his newsletter even if you haven't met him before today.

Now we are expecting several more participants, so let's mark time
till... Ah, here they come now."

The four figures striding into the room ranged in height from five to eight
feet. Besides the two at the extremes the other two were studly males of
just above middle height and clearly a father and son.

"Let's all take a few minutes to get acquainted or to say hello to old
friends.

"I think I'll make the introductions in order of size. The alarmingly large
fellow with the war hammer hung from his belt is the Frost Giant Finn
Ragnarson of New Varangia, reputed to be an avatar of Thor, Thunder God of
the Norse. Next are Count Taitos Klarendes, Count of the Eastern March and
his son Lord Artor Klarendes, who is one of the Dread Hands of the
Commonwealth in his own right. And the impossibly cute twink with them is
Count Klarendes' spouse and life partner, Sir Aodh of Llangollen."

"Aodh is another of your lovers, isn't he, Drew?" Axel asked. "Now the only
ones missing from your roster are the twins."

"Not any more we aren't! Here we are, in the flesh!" Karel announced. The
wizard's aide spun and greeted the final arrivals with a grin

"You always announce yourselves that way, don't you, Karel: 'In the flesh'.

Drew explained why.

"That's because the twins usually run around skin clad, in nothing but
their flesh, though I see that today they have dressed for the meeting in
color coded sarongs."

"Indeed. And as always, to help others tell us apart, Jemsen wears green
and I blue." Karel noted.

At first the twins had worn various colors but found that their fashion
statement confused everybody.

"You must be Axel." Aodh said. "Drew has told me so much about you, I feel
I already know you," drawing Axel into a hug then added:

"Such a hard body you have Axel, yet you are a city boy and work in an
office."

"Well, I am a soldier after all. We aides to war wizards never know when we
might have to deploy to the field with our principals, so we have to stay
in shape not only for the rigors of the trail but in case of a
fight. Though small as I am I don't know how much help I would be armed
only with a long knife."

"Now don't sell yourself short, pun fully intended. We smaller fellows are
more about quality than quantity anyway, aren't we?"

"Right. As Drew always says: 'We little guys gotta stick together. It's us
against the world!"

"Present company excepted, of course." Drew noted nodding toward those
clustered around Finn and McFarden.

But Axel's attention was elsewhere, focused on the exotic beauty of the
wir, a boy with slanting green eyes and pearl white skin which neither
tanned nor burned.

"Like what you see?" Drew asked Axel conspiratorially in a stage
whisper. That earned him an elbow to the ribs.

Yet what was there about Aodh not to like? A raven-haired sloe eyed beauty
who looked to be no more than sixteen Aodh matched Drew in height though
with a slighter build.  A melding of the innocent and the wanton, small,
skinny, and smooth muscled, comely as an angel, with a skin like porcelain,
and looking utterly fragile and vulnerable, the epicene youth was actually
twice as strong as he looked well as being a master of the martial arts.

Aodh was the epitome of a boy in the full bloom of his youth and so
impossibly pretty he took your breath away. And he would stay that way
indefinitely thanks to his dual nature. Aodh was a shapeshifter, a wir,
which in his case meant he could morph into a black panther. The magical
process of transformation healed all wounds and injuries and kept him
perpetually young, looking sweet sixteen indefinitely until someday
misadventure or foul play would end his life.

"So Sir Aodh how long have you known Drew?"

"Just call me Aodh. It's been five or six years now. Drew visited Elysion
to interview Taitos, that is Count Klarendes, and the two of us, well we
hit it off. Taitos and I rarely indulge ourselves with extra curricular
love interests, but I made an exception in Drew's case."

"Of course you did. I am irresistible." Drew affirmed airily.

"Also Finn and I once had a tryst, over the few days of his first visit
actually," Aodh admitted," but that was out of mutual curiosity. I was his
first wir and he my first and only Frost Giant."

"But even then he was so much larger than you."

"Ah, but you must remember that as a shapeshifter I can adjust my body to
accommodate the most endowed of lovers even those eight feet tall."

"I'm pretty flexible myself, thanks to my enhanced vitality," Drew said,
"but I can no longer take Finn fully up my quim."

"You're an inventive fellow. I am sure you have other ways to pleasure
him."

"Indeed I do."

"Aodh shared a secret about wirs, but I don't suppose I can tell Axel, can
I Aodh?"

"Oh, go ahead. We are all friends here. Though don't pass this on to any
one else."

"Wirs can not only morph into a particular animal, they can mimic another
human being, a specific person, not just anyone. It has to be someone with
the same mass, and the process of acquiring a template requires a
considerable degree of familiarity such as through repeated intimate
contact. Aodh can mimic both me and the elf-boy cum druid Dahlderon, as he
did a few years ago when Dahl was on a mission to Karelia."

Ad nodded and explained.

"I maintained the masquerade for many months, switching forms back and
forth to give the impression that both of us were in residence in
Elysion. We wirs use such mimicry when we are trapped and the only way out
is to assume an impenetrable disguise and walk right past our enemies. You
can understand why we wirs like to keep this aspect of our powers to
ourselves."

Meanwhile Finn Ragnarson and Sir Willet were discussing Finn's magical gift
which had manifested as a set of unusual powers which mimicked those of the
ancient hero Thor, the thunder god of the Norse. Finn drew energy from the
sky which doubled the strength conferred by his eight foot frame and six
hundred pounds of bone, sinew, and muscle, much as a magical power belt
doubled the legendary Thor's already prodigious strength. Like Thor, Finn
commanded thunder and lightning. Thanks to his control of the planetary
magnetic field, Finn could throw his war hammer and retrieve it, drawing
the steel head back toward him and smacking the haft into steel backed
gauntlets much like Thor's iron gloves in the old stories.

"And I don't have to worry much about missile weapons, at least not
anything metallic. I can use the magnetic field of the planet to make
arrowheads and even lead bullets veer away from me, though I cannot return
them to sender they way Fetchers and war wizards can."

"So your shield works even against non-magnetic metals. The natural
philosophers will wonder why?"

"Magic, what else?" Finn shrugged, ever the pragmatist.

"Ironically my shield offers no protection against the missiles we giants
traditionally fling with our slings, which are smooth round stones taken
from river beds. Which is why for battle I wear light armor, namely a helm,
a breastplate, vambraces, a buckler strapped to my left arm and
steel-backed leather gauntlets. None of it needs to be particular strong or
heavy for the level of protection I require. Anyway strong as I am, I will
hardly know I am bearing its weight."

"Another difference," Sir Willet pointed out, "is that you create a field
that actually protects you, whereas the Missile Shield we fetchers create
is only a field of mental awareness. We must still invoke the Fetching gift
to divert arrows and quarrels and bolts or even the pebbles you Frost Giant
sling."

"You two are making me feel nigh onto naked," Artor complained
facetiously. "My only protection is an army style kepi."

Recently adopted by the armed forces, the kepi's white round cap, bill, and
neck flap protected soldiers from the sun while an inner cap of steel
protected the skull from impacts.

"Ah but you Hands are enforcers not soldiers. Anyway as a firecaster you
can ignite the wooden shafts of arrow and turn them into so much ash."

"When they make me a Hand," Finn averred, "I'll still wear armor. After all
my Frost Giants expect a thunder god to look the part!"

Finn laughed genially at his own fanciful expression.

Just then Angus McFarden raised his voice and asked everyone to take a seat
around the conference table.

"Sorry Sir Willet," McFarden told the wizard, "but there will be plenty of
time later for you and the giant to talk shop."

"Your point is well taken." Sir Willet conceded.

"As for you smaller fellows, can you table the discussion of your love
lives for a more appropriate occasion. I must say today is the first time I
ever heard young males brag about who was bigger down there and not be
referring to what they had up front!"

"That's hardly surprising, Sir Angus. As a man of conventional tastes your
circle of acquaintance is comprised of those like yourself who consort
exclusively with the female half of the species."

"Which includes me," Artor Klarendes pointed out.

			Chapter 3. The Conference

"The Institute of Wizardry will soon reorganize into two equal branches: a
College of Wizardry and a College of Magic." Sir Willet announced. "under
two chancellors, myself for the wizards and Sir Angus for the College of
Magic. Sir Dieter will remain in overall charge as Chairman."

Sir Willet went on to explain that the new College of Magic would become
the organizational hub for the Confraternities of the Gifted. Since Sir
Angus was taking the new post as Chancellor of the College, Drew Altair
would step up to become the head of the Confraternity of Fetchers.

The Institute also wanted to fold Drew's newsletter into its publications
program. For several years Drew had published a newsletter that covered the
world of magical gifts. Just recently he had changed its title from
'Transactions of the Confraternities of the Gifted' to something much
simpler: 'Magic'. The Institute's long running companion publication would
be renamed from 'Quarterly of the Institute of Wizardry' to simply
'Wizardry'. Both would be published bi-monthly and printed with moveable
type.

The publicity program was an outgrowth of developments in recent years
where the Commonwealth government had taken a more active role in
mobilizing the magical talents of the population for both defense and
civilian affairs. The Institute's new role was to be the incubator and
disseminator of new ideas, especially those applicable to civilian
life. The Commonwealth itself would continue to promote the application of
magic to defense.

Drew's family news-paper, the Capital Intelligencer, had been the test
platform for the new technology of printing with moveable type which was
small bits of metal with the letters and punctuation marks cast in reverse
in high relief. The type for each mark would be selected from bins by a
typesetter, slipped into a slot, and locked in place in a metal frame then
inked, pressed, and printed. It was much faster than the old style of
wood-block printing and the type could be disassembled afterwards and
reused.

The inventors were brothers, provincial printers who needed backing from
the Altair family to commercialize their invention. The Altairs, that is
Drew's father and uncle, put up serious money to get the ball rolling. Once
moveable type proved a success, the Altairs got the government to buy all
rights from them and the brothers and to put the invention in the public
domain.

The Altairs stood to make another fortune from their foresight in
sponsoring the new technology. In anticipation of a vast increase in
printing and publishing in the coming years and decades they had
established technical standards, built type foundries, and bought land for
plantations to supply paper made from wood pulp instead of rags.

Sir Angus's iron rails were not only successful with heavy freight like
iron ore and coal but now with passengers. Count Klarendes had been an
early investor in the heavy freight line and likewise with the street
cars. So too was Aodh who had a considerable fortune of his own as one of
the heirs of the late Sir Balandur. The twins too had invested in the
street cars. The twins were on their way to being fabulously wealthy and
not only as heirs of Balandur but also from shrewd investments in emerging
industries. The twins were also the owners of two successful businesses,
one producing Genuine Gemini Zingers, which they had invented, and the
other producing maps and gazetteers for commercial travelers.

The latest commercial exploitation of magical gifts was street lighting, a
venture in which the Institute itself had invested. Sir Willet's aide Axel
Wilde had inspired a whole new industry and provided an important public
amenity.

It had all started one gloomy evening over in Twinkle Town. Named for the
cute twinks who were its chief denizens, Twinkle Town was a district or
rather a cluster of drinking and dancing establishments favored by those
who fancied pretty boys and by pretty boys who favored being fancied. With
overcast skies and both moons down, the oil lamps on the streets could do
little to dispel the gloom. That gave Axel an idea.

Now Axel was unusual in manifesting several magical gifts, though all of
modest proportions. Like many persons Axel could Call Light, but his balls
of illumination persisted for hours without his attention and would hover
where he set them even after he moved away.

So Axel talked to the proprietor of one the largest and most popular clubs
in Twinkle Town and made him an offer. In exchange for a modest fee, Axel
would light up the street in front of his place every evening. The
proprietor just needed to set up a few nets on poles which would contain
the balls of light so they would not drift away with the wind.

The proprietor did Axel one better, suggesting that Axel sign a contract
with their business improvement district to light up the entire area. Now
Axel liked the idea but ran it by the twins first. They put him in touch
with their business manager, a wily dwarf named Lennart. He thrashed out a
much better deal than Axel would have made on his own.

In exchange for a percentage of the profits, Lennart handled everything:
contracting, setting up light posts, and the hiring of a corps of
lamplighters, mostly his fellow dwarves, to light first Twinkle Town, then
other entertainment districts, and in time the high streets of the entire
city pursuant to a contract with the city government.

More than any of the other sentient races on Haven, dwarves had the gift
for Calling Light. Dwarves lived in natural caverns underground so that
particular gift was of great value to them. Those with the gift of
persistent light lit up their caverns to help those among them who could
not call light for themselves.

Most dwarves with the gift were happy to work for wages rather than try to
set up a competing business on their own, which would involve drumming up
clients, getting standard lighting fixtures built and emplaced,
contracting, etc. No much easier for dwarves to take a part-time job
whereby they did their rounds each evening perhaps on their way home from
work, lighting up the streets they had been assigned. Lennart persuaded the
Institute and Drew's family to advance funds to cover start up costs in
exchange for a modest interest in the firm.

And it had worked out splendidly. Axel no longer made the rounds himself
and as majority owner of Capital Lamplighters was well on his way to
accumulating a moderate fortune of his own. As a bonus, Axel never had to
pay a cover charge in Twinkle Town. Things had worked out so well, Finn's
brother Hrolgar had started a street lighting operation on a much smaller
scale in Flensborg.

Liam had even suggested how Axel could use his gift to protect himself were
he ever to find himself on a battlefield at Sir Willet's side. Calling a
ball of light to englobe the head of a man or a troll would scramble his
brains and might even kill him. Or to simply incapacitate him, pop a ball
right in front of his face, temporarily blinding him.

"I will now call on Count Taitos Klarendes to explain his idea for a whole
new industry, something he calls refrigeration."

"Thank you, Sir Willet. Lately Aodh and I have been spending about a third
of our time in the capital, staying at a house Artor has leased in one of
the leafy upscale residential neighborhoods. Finn is a frequent visitor. He
himself has been living in the capital while he trained for an appointment
as a Hand of the Commonwealth."

One day my son Artor and I got the idea for a new industry which we call
refrigeration. Finn was telling us about how the Frost Giants harvested ice
from frozen ponds every winter, cutting the ice into blocks and storing
them in ice-houses dug halfway into the ground. The roof and walls are
insulated with sawdust and sod."

"Now some ice-houses are used for food storage. Others supply blocks of ice
every week or so to households in the neighborhood, where the individual
blocks are placed in boxes large enough to hold the ice and perishables
like meat, fish, and milk and butter. That slows spoilage even in the warm
summers. Households don't have to go to the butcher or fishmonger every day
to ensure fresh and healthful meats and fish. Milk does not turn sour. Even
things which don't need what we call refrigeration taste better cold."

"Beer for instance!" Finn volunteered.

"Really?" Angus McFarden asked. "Cold beer? Leave it to Frost Giants to
think that one up."

Artor shook his head.

"It's not just Frost Giants. Judge for yourself this evening at our
place. We are putting on a big feed, a cookout in the garden. The staff is
working to prepare a stick-to-the-ribs meal of grilled and roasted meats,
roast tubers, biscuits, steamed vegetables, and other foods you can bite
into. And nothing goes better with food than cold beer."

"Amen to that!" Finn affirmed. "We Frost Giants have a saying: 'Cold beer
is surely proof that the gods love us and want us to be happy!'"

That drew an amused snort from his interlocutors.

"Thank you for sharing that with us, Finn. Anyway, getting back to our
project, it all started when Artor realized that we firecasters could bring
the benefits of ice-houses and ice-boxes to the Commonwealth. Creating the
ice itself is not a problem, not for powerful firecasters like
ourselves. We just draw the heat out of a shallow basin filled with water
and disperse it into the air. Why don't you tell the rest Artor?"

"Thank you, Father."

"Now any strong firecaster can create a big block of ice, but then what
does he do with it? No, what you need is a business that stores ice in
quantity in ice-houses and distributes blocks of ice to households either
on demand or even better by subscription, which produces a reliable revenue
stream. As for the ice-boxes, we will sell them cheap, recouping just our
costs and even give them away at first as a promotion. Let me show you want
we have in mind."

Artor left the room briefly and returned rolling a cart with a large wooden
box on top. Below were what looked like a set of thick boards.

"This is an ice-box, as designed by Justin our master joiner back in
Elysion based on specifications from Finn who is our technical adviser and
part owner of the company. It is nearly a cube just over a yard in all
dimensions. It is double walled and insulated with sawdust, though cork
would do as well, and has three shelves and a door in front for ready
access. The really clever feature is the lockable door in the rear so we
can install them in a cut through the kitchen wall. That way the ice-man
can make his deliveries without ever coming inside and the meltwater drains
outside. Two locks inside and out will discourage entry by burglars or just
food thieves."

"Another feature is that we ship them unassembled. The components can be
massed produced at any suitably equipped manufactory. If I may
demonstrate."

Setting aside the first ice-box Artor demonstrated how quickly and easily
the six main pieces of an ice-box snapped together. The only tool needed
was a mallet to knock in the pegs that held it together. Then you slid in
two metal grates for shelves.

			Chapter 4. The Cookout

"All right, Finn," McFarden conceded. "I'll admit that you Frost Giants
were right and I was wrong to be skeptical. Cold beer is not a foolish
notion after all. It does go very well with food. Even by itself it really
hits the spot on a hot day, which is every day in these parts."

"And this is how we like to drink our beer in good weather," Finn replied,
gesturing at their surroundings, "in beer gardens attached to taverns. You
can take food and drink at a table or just quaff your favorite brew in
comfortable wooden chairs. Proprietors supply free nibbles like small
pretzels and shelled salted nuts. The salt makes you thirsty so you will
order refills."

"How do you chill the beer? Do you set a keg in a barrel and pack ice
around it?"

"Not at all. We chill the beer as it flows toward the tap. Let me show
you."

Finn took the industrialist behind the bar and pointed to a keg of beer
hooked up to a hose which disappeared into a large wooden box. Flipping the
box open, McFarden saw that the hose connected to metal piping that ran all
the way around the box in a sort of square spiral connecting to another
hose at the top which in turn connected with the tap lever. The box was
filled with a mixture of ice and freezing water.

"The beer takes the chill as it flows through the pipe. You want some ice
water in the box so the coldness reaches every part of the piping, though
you have to drain some meltwater off from time to time to put in more ice."

"You don't just let the meltwater drain away do you?" Aodh asked.

"Of course. What else would we do with it?"

Aodh shook his head.

"I used to make my living as a minstrel so I have seen the inside of more
taverns than you would believe. Ask yourself. What are all the patrons
doing besides drinking?"

His interlocutors shook their heads, a baffled look on their faces, unable
to fathom what the cute wir boy was getting at.

"Give up? They are sweating. That is what they are all doing."

"So don't throw out the ice-water. Use it for cold wipes and
compresses. Believe me that is an amenity the patrons of any tavern or beer
garden will appreciate."

"Oh, and be sure to supply a clean fresh cloths for every customer. Keep
them handy and pile them next to a basin or small tub of ice water and send
the used ones to the laundry."

"Hmm, I like the way you think, Aodh. Like a businessman." McFarden said.

"But I am also interested in your shapeshifting powers. I know Aodh that
your other form is a black panther but I have never seen either you or any
other wir transform into one. Would you care to demonstrate?"

"That is something I too would like to see." Liam added.

Aodh shrugged. Why not.

It was not like in the old days back in his homeland where the wirs kept
their power to shift shapes a secret, telling the rare travelers who
ventured into their secluded land that their country was protected by
animal guardians they could call upon with magic. Everyone in the country
of the wirs practiced martial arts, the better to defend themselves without
giving away the ace up their sleeves.

But in the capital of the Commonwealth Aodh was among friends. There was no
need for the traditional secrecy of his folk. Aodh whipped off his sarong
and strode onto the grass.

Aodh's form blurred, his innate magic taking only seconds to transform the
pretty boy-toy into a sleek black panther. Aodh ran around for a bit then
reared up on his hind legs and slashed the air with his claws, snarling to
look fierce. Then he morphed back into the Aodh they all knew. He didn't
bother getting dressed again, preferring to remain nude and let the sweat
dry on him.

"Wow! I had no idea you could change so fast, or that the change was like
you were melting from human to cat and back again. And that was quite a
horizontal leap you made a moment ago."

"Indeed, Liam. The legs of a panther are proportionally the longest of the
big cats. Even your normal tawny panther can jump say forty feet (12 m)
horizontally and nearly half that vertically. With my magically enhanced
strength I can do much better than that."

"In fact, that was how I took out a Frost Giant during a raid on Elysion
years ago. A pair of them snuck up on Taitos while he was busy killing
centaurs. I don't know if they even saw me in panther form crouched at his
feet atop the watch tower. From the way the one in front looked over at his
companion with a predatory grin, the giants must have thought they could
take Taitos unawares."

"I took advantage of that moment of inattention to launch myself across the
gap and attacked. I ripped his face off and slashed his throat open before
he threw me against a wall breaking some of my ribs, which I fixed easily
enough by transforming to human form. He would have bled out if Taitos had
not cut him in half with white fire."

"Now you know why I don't carry a weapon." Aodh told Axel and Liam, smiling
slyly as he held up his left hand, and let it morph into the paw of a cat,
claws fully extended.

"My weapons are always to hand. I am expert in two styles of martial arts,
so I can fight effectively unarmed in human form without having to change
to a panther. Also, as a lefty, I baffle most opponents with my stance and
defensive moves. Either way I can hold my own in a scrape. It helps that I
am twice as strong as I should be for my size. Even so, I still fall short
of many foes in brute strength, but my extra power makes me uncannily quick
and let's me surprise them.

"As you would expect, in my panther form I am a master of stealth. I can
track by sight and scent or take to the trees and travel considerable
distances leaving no trail of the ground for anyone to follow. And if
anyone does try to track or chase me, I can lie in wait up a tree and
pounce on him as he passes by all unknowing below me, using my weight and
momentum to knock him down. One slash of my claws to the neck, and I bound
out of reach of his weapons, for even a dying man can be dangerous. Then it
is just a matter of waiting for him to bleed to death."

"And yes, I will admit that I have sometimes changed back to my human form
so I could taunt my foe. I make no excuse for that other than to say it
stems from the feline side of my nature."

"Gods!" Axel breathed. "Is everyone around here a killer?"

"Don't worry, Axel," Karel assured him. "We're the good guys."

Afterwards the twins, Drew, and the Klarendes, father and son, talked about
developments in the Far West. Neither the count nor the Hand knew anything
about what the Young Peacemakers Four had really accomplished during their
mission to those regions.

"So the trolls have struck there too. I cannot really say I am surprised,"
the elder Klarendes said then continued with:

"They nearly succeeded in seizing Jenova, the more northerly of the
maritime republics for its port and access upriver, but the trolls were
thwarted at sea by the republic's new flotilla of warships which included
the ship donated by the Commonwealth with a war wizard aboard plus three
longships with fetchers and firecasters. Their landing force was left
stranded and ultimately fell to Alliance military forces sent by Marshall
Urqaart. The outcome validated Admiral Van Zant's strategy of equipping the
smaller navies with the means to defend themselves."

"Even so their attempted invasion had a tremendous political impact. There
is nothing like an external threat to concentrate minds."

"The elites in the old regimes know that they now have three enemies: the
revolutionaries in the Despotate of Dzungaria, their own oppressed
populations, and the trolls. They are moving to confederate their states
and delegate military and foreign affairs to a central authority. For its
part, the Commonwealth has made it known that it would like to replace its
alliance with the individual states with an alliance with this emerging
confederation."

"Lord Zaldor and Marshall Urqaart were clever to wait for them to broach
the idea of a confederation. The best way to make people do what you want
them to do is to make them think it was their idea in the first place."
Drew said approvingly.

"Tsk, tsk. A cynic already and only twenty-three years old." Karel said
sardonically.

"I prefer to think of myself as a realist," Drew gave back.

"And what is this I have heard about shipping minerals along an iron road
to fertilize the sour soils of the Far West?" the elder Klarendes asked.

"My firm is just doing a preliminary study." McFarden said. "No one is
going to invest so much capital without a guarantee of peace and access to
markets."

"And the notion of tripling yields has also concentrated minds on the
political, social, and economic reforms that would resolve the structural
problems of the Far West that made endless class warfare inevitable." Drew
noted.

That was as far as he would go. He wasn't about to reveal that the
Commonwealth and the Despotate had actually formed a secret alliance
against the corrupt elites of the states seeking to confederate. It was
ultimately for their own good for the changes both sides wanted would bring
peace and prosperity to everyone. The elites would have to give up their
political power as a class, but they would retain their wealth and social
position.

"Can I ask you something Artor?" Axel asked privately. "I don't want to
give the impression that guys like me who like other guys are always on the
prowl for new partners, but sometimes you just run into someone you find
irresistible. Now Liam said that was OK with him; he is glad I am taking
him up on his advice that I widen my circle of acquaintance. So here goes:"

"Do you think I have a chance with Aodh? I mean I don't want to come across
as a home wrecker, but Aodh is so hot. Just look at how cute and sexy he is
standing there in the nude, his body gleaming in the sun from the sweat he
worked up just now."

"Actually from the way he has been looking over at you, Axel, I think he
would welcome an advance. And don't worry about his spouse. My father knows
that he is secure in Aodh's affections."

"Er, just one thing, Artor. Does Aodh ever lose control of his form while,
er, in the throes of passion? I mean with those sharp claws and all..."

Artor grinned as he visualized the scene of the young wizard's aide trying
to make love to an Aodh whose paws were busy kneading away at his
belly. Shaking his head he said: "No, Aodh never loses control of his
form. No claws."

Smiling wickedly at the thought of a panther giving oral serviced, Artor
pointedly glanced down at Axel's groin and assured him: "No fangs either!"

Artor added that this was not the first time he had been asked that very
question. Finn had done so on his very first visit to Elysion. Artor and
Axel shared a chuckle at the coincidence.

Axel did ask Aodh for a tryst, and the young wir jumped at the chance to
bed the boyishly cute wizard's aide. That night, with the count's blessing,
Aodh went back with Axel to his hotel and spent the night in his room.

They made a lovely and lively couple. Still only eighteen Axel was short,
fair, with hair the color of copper, and extremely boyish looking, his
pretty face dominated by large green eyes over heart-melting dimples.

The wir youth was just the right size for Axel. Much like Axel Aodh short
and slight of stature -- even petite, a physique some might call skinny but
which Axel preferred to call fine-boned, svelte and sleek. With his
delicate features Aodh was cute as a button, soft and cuddly but wild and
wanton and loud when aroused. Like any young feline, the wir-boy was
frisky, playful, and delightfully naughty, challenging Axel's more
conventional notions of lovemaking.

As Artor had told Axel, his father once said of his shapeshifter lover that
Aodh was like a kitten: so much friskiness in one tiny body.

What Artor had told Axel was true enough. Aodh never lost control. While in
the throes of passion he never unintentionally shifted his shape, but that
didn't mean he couldn't change intentionally.

Only a little change of course. No point trying to prong a boy while in his
full panther form. Of course Aodh would not claw or bite Axel, but no human
would willingly endure penetration or rather withdrawal by a cat's member
which had a band of over a hundred tiny backwards-pointing penile spines
which were supposed to rake the walls of his mate's vagina, to trigger
ovulation.

No, Aodh had something else in mind. something he knew from experience that
boys really craved without even knowing about it. Eating out a boy's ass
was always such a surprise to a virgin in that department. So it proved to
be with Axel, doubly so because Aodh allowed his form to morph just enough
to equip himself with the long pink raspy tongue of a feline.

He used his tongue to tease Axel's anal pucker, sending shivers up and down
Axel's spine. His body reacted something like it did listening to the
scrape of fingernails on a slate, though not unpleasantly. Far from it. It
was then that Axel learned that his lover Liam was not the only one who
could be inventive about his lovemaking.

Aodh had a quiet side too. He loved it when this new boy stroked and petted
him, running his strong hands along the chevron of his ribs, fingering the
sharp hip bones, sliding down the smooth skin of his thighs then back up to
fondle his buttocks. The cat in Aodh loved the attention and the
petting. His supple body was meant to be touched and stroked. Even in human
form, Aodh could purr softly when contented, as after sex or a good
meal. It was one of his most endearing characteristics.

			Author's Note

This story is entirely fictional, with no resemblance intended to any
person living or dead.

If you have enjoyed this story and others like it, consider making a
donation to the Nifty Archive. It is so easy. They take credit cards. Point
your browser to http://donate.nifty.org/donate.html

This story is one of an occasional series about the further adventures of
the characters introduced in the fantasy novel 'Elf-Boy and Friends' and
published by Nifty Archive. The chief protagonist of the novel, Dahlderon,
elf-boy and druid, will appear in these stories in a supporting rather than
starring role. Each story in the sequence stands on its own, with the focus
on one or just a few of the original characters.

Readers who like these stories might want to try my two series 'Daphne Boy'
and 'Naked Prey' in the Gay/Historical section of the Archive. My 'Jungle
Boy' series of Hollywood tales is posted in the Gay/Authoritarian
section. The recent series 'Andrew Jackson High' relates the trials and
tribulations of five of its gay students. For links to these and other
stories, look on the list of Prolific Authors on the Archive.

Comments and feedback welcome.