A Bad Night In Bridgetown

How Tabarnas Acquired A Mermaid

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"...A story for another time? What kind of an ending is that?"

"That's the end of the story. The wolf is dead. Avan Weatherstrong bested his opponent. All is well."

"But what about the silver sword, and the Moon Maiden? And who was the servant, you know, really?"

"It's not important, it's just a story."

"It's a rubbish story."

"Then I won't tell you any more."

Before the argument could proceed any further another voice broke in:

"Tabarnas Riseandshine! Are you wasting your time telling stories again?"

Tabarnas Riseandshine looked over his shoulder. He peered into the shadowy interior of the 'Riseandshine and Titsadaisy Goblin Merchants' stall. He turned back to the small child sitting at his feet, a mouse sitting upon her shoulder. He put a finger to his lips indicating that the child should be quiet.

"I am just resting my old bones, dear!" he called back. "I was getting the back pains again."

"I'll give you pains," the voice came back. "We have too much stock that needs sorting out. It's Saturday Market tomorrow and we need to have all our most valuable wares on display."

"I'll be along directly, dear," Tabarnas said. "Just give me a minute to get back on my feet."

"Is that your wife?" the child asked.

"Wife? Ah, well, no, sort of, it's complicated," Tabarnas replied.

"Is it another story for another time?" the girl asked. The corner of her mouth turned down in a cute grimace. A clear indication that she was still not happy about the conclusion to the story of 'Avan Weatherstrong and the Stalker Wolf'.

"No, not a story it's just, well, Cressidia and I are Goblin Merchants, and very old with it," Tabarnas explained. "We're together, till death do us part, but it's more of a... er... contract than a marriage."

"Hmmm," the child said. "I have to say," she continued after considering this for a moment, "I'm not sure I understand the difference."

"Well, maybe when you're older yourself," Tabarnas replied. He got up from his step stool and shuffled along towards the flap at the back of the stall. "I should probably see what Cressidia wants. My eardrums have been known to burst with the shouting when I really annoy her."

"Wait!" the child called out. Tabarnas turned back to her.

"You still haven't told me where I can get some help. And I still don't know where I am."

"I told you that first of all," Tabarnas objected. "The first words out of my mouth! You are in Bridgetown, at the Patchwork Market. This is the only marketplace of significant importance to all creatures of all worlds."

"But where is that?" the child asked, a note of pleading in her voice. "You don't understand. I have come from, well, a very long way away, I'm not entirely certain how I got here. All I have is my friend James the Mouse, his pumpkin and an unreasonably grumpy gnome who comes and goes as he pleases."

"Look, Ruth..." Tabarnas said.

"Rachel," the child cut him off. "My name is Rachel."

Before Tabarnas could say anything else Cressidia appeared at the flap of the stall. Her expression told Tabarnas that he may have to find that ear-ointment before long. The soothing balm they had picked up the last time they had passed through Rolling Meadow. It was the only thing he'd found to soothe the ache of a jolly good telling off.