A week later, Beothorn told Tad, "It's time to get you over to the acrobat ring for some training. You are all gangly elbows and knees. If you intend to be able to field a shield and ax, we will need more work on your muscles and balance. I can't take any more time away from my guard duties to do more practice with you. I talked to Kibriel; she told me that all of these troupe members are monks, so for the love of all, be on your best behavior. "

Tad nodded. He had seen the acrobats in the second big tent several times before. Their ability to jump over one another and do a handstand while being lifted by another person, hand in hand, was amazing to watch.

Tad remembered a show where one of the monks came out doing kicks that looked like scissors, all the while spinning around and flipping. He doubted he could ever do that, but Beothorn had said it would help if Tad learned to balance.

They entered the big tent through a closed flap. The inside was huge. It had one giant ring in the middle with five stands of benches spaced around the ring for visitors to sit on while they watched the show in the middle. The seats were simple, and stout timbers supported each row. There were gaps between the stands fifteen feet wide. Here various acts or animals could be brought into the ring while others exited to the other side. The tent had three long poles spaced evenly to hold up the large top.

Tad had helped with putting up the big tents this year. He had spent most of the time fetching things for the men who were raising them.

Raising a big tent was more complex than most realized. It involved digging a hole and placing iron post holders in the holes. The whole thing took a full two days to put up and one to take it down again.

Tad always marveled at the tent inside after seeing all the work needed to raise it.

Once inside, Beothorn with Tad made their way over to Kibriel. She was working with a couple of the younger acrobats giving direction as they practiced backflips. She stood about five feet tall, had black hair, and was human. She wore tan loose-fitting knee-length shorts with a rope belt and a shirt that was wrapped around her and tied at the side snuggly. The shirt had no sleeves and stopped at her shoulders. She and the other acrobats were barefoot.

She spoke to the younger of the two acrobats in the ring. "You made the flip, but you need to plant your feet. Nobody will pay to see you wobbling around like a drunken sailor."

Noticing Beothorn with Tad in tow, Kibriel gave a short wave and moved over to meet them.

"Kibriel, this is my son Tad, the young man we were talking about," said Beothorn.

Kibriel nodded, smiling, "Nice to meet you, Tad."

Tad smiled back and reached out to shake her hand, "Hello."

Tad used his magic sense to feel the type of person Kibriel might be. He didn't notice any malice, and the woman gave off the same feeling he could see on her face. Tad tended to do this more than he should, but old habits die hard. He didn't do it near any being he believed would notice it. Samphire's warning several years ago still went through his thoughts every time he used his magic.

Kibriel waved at the two older boys practicing in the ring. "Tad, these are my sons. Seàrlas is the older one, and Crìsdean is the younger one. You will be working with them. They are more advanced, but we will place you at the level and abilities you possess, don't worry. We will not expect backflips for quite a while." She smiled at Tad.

"Now, as for clothes, I want you to have a pair of shorts when it is warm with a shirt with no sleeves on it. If it's too warm, we will go without the shirt. Mostly we will be barefoot for all the exercises. All flips or jumps will be over the deep sand area. We will not practice on the harder ground until you've mastered it in the softer area. " Kimbriel looked at Beothorn, "Do not be surprised if there are bruises now and then. As we stretch our limits, we sometimes fall. We will get back up, though, because that is the way." she continued turning to Tad. Tad nodded to her since that part was clearly meant for him.

"We will work two hours, four days a week. Two days training, one day off, two days training, then we do not meet again till the following first of the week. This will give your muscles time to rebuild and help you grow." she then turned back to Beothorn, "We do not do any weight lifting. The only weight we lift is our own body. Although later, you might get to the point where you might lift others. We are a long way off from that. Once your body matures and picks up some muscle, and once you build your core muscles, we can discuss the harder skills. Any questions?"

Tad looked at her, then at her sons practicing backflips. It all mesmerized Tad. The smile beaming across his face betrayed his feelings. Tad gave her a negative shake of his head. He had no questions as he continued to watch the other boys doing flips.

"Ok then, Beothorn, you can leave him with me."

Beothorn smiled and said, "Tad, I'll see you at dinner then. Have fun."

He smacked Tad on the back harder than necessary and left to check in with the other guards patrolling the carnival.

***

Magic

"How are your acrobat workouts progressing, Tad?" Marena inquired a few weeks later.

It was late, after the evening meal and general carnival cleanup. Tad usually spent this time reading various history books or writing letters for different wagon masters in the troupe. Not all of them could read or write, but almost everyone had a loved one or relative they wanted to send a message to now and then. Tad had taken to writing out their letters to be sent off with trading caravans or government delivery services for one copper and the cost of paper. Every place they set up seemed to have a different method of sending notes and messages.

Tad looked up from his writing, "At first, it was hard. That first week I felt like a team of ponies had walked across my chest and arms several times, but I must be getting used to it because it does not hurt as much anymore. Kibriel says I'm making progress, but I am not sure because she also frowns a lot. I'm starting to think this is her permanent state. I just started on rolls. I didn't know there were so many ways to roll around on the ground." Tad chuckled. "I am having fun, though. We end each evening with a game they call dodge the goose. It involves everyone playing a game of tag using a leather ball filled with goosedown. If you are hit, you are out. There are two balls always going at the same time. You are allowed to block the ball if you have a ball, but only with the ball. But if you keep your ball for more than five heartbeats, you have to drop it."

Marena said, "Well, I am glad you are having a good time. It is work, I know, but you will continue to improve, and it gives you something to do other than loiter around the carnival." Without even as much as a pause, Marena continued, "Now let's discuss the study book I asked you to read last week. Could you please describe what magic is and the various types that were in the tomb.".

Tad took a long breath. He could feel she was about to go into lecture mode.

"Do you want the broad or narrow definitions?" asked Tad as he watched Bubbles circle him. She did that often when he was reading or writing in the wagon.

"Let us start with the broad, then describe the schools and types," said Marena.

Tad had read the book, but he did not fully understand some of the definitions it had given. Things like Void magic or the difference between the spirit and the soul.

Trying to remember the exact wording, "Magic is powered by mana that overflows across the planes filling every world until it runs its course or cannot cover any more distance. It originates from key locations or foci which have been named to give them meaning. They do not conflict as much as just smother each other when they touch." That last part was not in the book but in the descriptions of the interactions of the magic section.

"Good, what does this mean when looking at the universe?" asked Marena.

"It means if you think of the main magics or foci as large cups or buckets. If the mana is not ladled out or used in the buckets, they will overflow, flooding the universe with the mana the foci contain. Like Bertha, the manure wagon, when the handle got stuck during the delivery last year." All the carnies knew about that event, the description of the ever-expanding waste overflowing the area when they didn't tilt it back in time. The varied descriptions of the ever-expanding contents of the wagon have been many and colorful.

"The mana, once dumped, will always try to make its way back to its foci. This current of forces is described differently depending on the culture or language. The book describes them by size, large to small, Mana torrents, Mana flows, Mana rillet, Mana stream, Mana trickle, and Mana seepage. This Mana is what magicians use to make castings. Once they cast it, they call it energia," said Tad.

"Good Tad, I see you made it to the end of the literature. Did it describe pools or vessels at all?" asked Marena.

"Not that I read," said Tad.

"Then let me expand on the concept. Pools are areas that have gathered mana, but it is not flowing back to its foci plane for some reason. This can be caused in several ways. The primary way is the use of magic to form a dam or enclosure. Causing the mana to accumulate, and most of these areas do not fully contain the mana. So once full, the overflow washes away to continue on its journey back to the foci. " Marena paused for a moment.

"Vessels are different. These are generally creatures or items of a magical nature that contain a set amount of energia which doesn't overflow. Lesser gods are considered vessels of the mana of their worshipers. A vessel is like a bucket with a lid. Once full, they do not accept more flow. This is why many magical beasts are so hard to kill and can cause great havoc. It is also why there are gods and demons in the lands. These beings carry their mana resources and can act as major or minor foci drawing in much of the energy around them. Many magical beasts are drawn to mana flows, especially if it has a large pool nearby. These places are highly coveted, and holding one can be a brutal affair." said Marena.

"Have you noticed everywhere we set up, the city always has high walls and magical wards around them? Without these protections, others would overrun them to take over the places of power. These cities are built upon pools or mana lines. Always keep in mind someone who controls a pool or flow's greatest fear is losing this contact. Much like a rich person's greatest fear is being poor." she said.

Marena tapped the table, her mind wandering off, "Now tell me what the different major foci are."

Tad recites what he read in the book "Earth, Void, Law, and Chaos are the four sides, and Soul is at the center. All other types reside inside these boundaries. Soul is not a foci. It is a reference to the individual."

"Good, I'll show you my most used magic spells tomorrow. There are two." She pointed at two clay work mugs of water in front of her. "This is the first. Watch my fingers as I move my hands. It is much like spinning a web." She muttered a word, and after a second, she touched the first mug of water. There was slight silvering, and ice appeared on the water's surface.

"This spell I use to cool my drinks in the summer. I find it very refreshing when the water is chilled. This second one." she moved her hands again. As she touched the other mug, a slight wave of steam came off the water. "This one I use to reheat my tea. I probably use this most often," she said.

Tad had seen her do this many times in the past. He didn't think she moved her fingers through the full motions she showed now, or perhaps he had missed them.

They continued their discussion into the evening until the carnival evening bell rang. This bell indicated that the public areas were closed to the carnival residents, and all general area torches and fires must be removed.

Tad spent time over that summer practicing those two simple spells. He learned it didn't affect large quantities. Heating a bucket full of water to lukewarm took several casts of the spell, and he was exhausted for a while after till his mana returned.

***

The Story of Baggart Di'Shlivanti, the Demon Prince.

Prince Baggart's father had commanded his presence. His father was again trying to reach the item on the stone table. The table sat in the middle of the ancient chamber below the fortress. For centuries his father has been trying to reach this device. He desired its power more than anything on this edge of the hells. This item had been sitting in that room for longer than the demons had occupied the fortress.

The Archduke had called the Prince Baggart Di'Shlivanti for a reason. He must have another scheme to break the magic shield surrounding it, but how could the prince help with this? Many demons have died trying to reach that artifact. It was always wise to avoid the Archduke when he was scheming. The prince could think of no way to avoid this summons.

The prince was large for a demon. He looked like a mirror image of his father, red-scaled skin with, horns jutting from his head, and spikes running up his arms and spine. Two leathery wings and a long-pointed tail swept out behind him.

His father, the Archduke of Hell, Shazikarik Di'Shlivanti, was several feet taller than the prince. He stood in the hall that led to the chamber. The Archduke was looking into the chamber and stood at the magic field's edge, and this field prevented entry.

He was holding a device that glowed with several colors swirling around his hand. The prince could sense the various domains of magic his father held in the box. This was a powerful tool his father had been feeding mana of slain captives into it for decades.

Shazikarik's voice rumbled when he spoke. Many lesser beings were known to faint in terror upon hearing him, "Ahh, Son, you have made it at last. I will need your assistance getting into this chamber."

Prince Baggart replied while bowing his head, saying in reverence, "How can I assist the great and terrifying Duke Di'Shlivanti?"

"You will stand next to me and put your hand upon this box while I invoke the device. Then, I will have my prize at last. Do not worry, much time and energy have I put into this task, and you will bear witness to my success," rumbled Shazikarik.

Prince Baggart knew the penalty for not following orders immediately and without complaint. He walked forward and placed his clawed hand upon the two-foot square box emitting a kaleidoscope of lights.

The Duke started to speak words of power that, when uttered, would have driven most mortals insane, and the lights from the box intensified.

A deep black aura surrounded the prince's hand, and he became paralyzed. He couldn't move. He couldn't breathe. He watched as the chaotic mana attached to his spirit was sucked into the box. He felt drained.

He tried to pull away but could not.

The Duke looked down at the prince, smiling with large pointy teeth, "It needs chaos mana to power the eighth part of the spell. Finally, you will be good for something in this kingdom."

The prince's spirit and mana slowly merged into the colors. A beam shot forward and struck the magic shield guarding the room.

There was a shattering sound as if the universe had ripped open and the raw forces of balance were sundered.

Then it was silent, and the shield was gone.

Sensing the shield was gone, the Duke looked down at his son's crumpled form on the floor as the prince breathed ragged breaths. He grabbed his son by his right arm and flung him into the room like a doll. Having now verified that the shield was down, the Archduke started forward into the room.

A white light pulsed from the artifact in front of him on the stone slab. It pulsed once, twice, then faster and faster.

Slowly the Archduke backed out into the corridor and watched with eyes full of anger and greed. He would rule all the planes of hell with this item of power, and he must have it.

As the light pulsed faster and faster, a beam of white mana shot out into the prince. He convulsed with the pain of a thousand fires infusing every nerve of his body. It flung him backward into the corridor past the Duke. The prince slammed into the stone hallway's far end and fell to the floor with a heavy thump.

The shield flashed back into place, and all was quiet once again in the chamber.

The Archduke seethed at his defeat. He had been so close. The giant demon looked down at the box of spirits. He had spent centuries gathering mana for this one attempt. The box was now a burned-out husk of wood and metal, and nothing of its power remained. Throwing it to the floor, he stalked off to his chambers as wisps of smoke rose from his skin, such was his anger.

Hours later, Prince Baggart started to rouse. He had been dreaming of chaos and wandering through the fields of fire. Even his evil and twisted mind had been assaulted by some of the things he had seen swirling around him while he was unconscious. He awoke, his body bruised, battered, and bleeding. The chaos mana his father had stolen from his spirit made him feel weak and diminished. For many centuries Prince Baggart had devoured beings of lesser power to get to his station in the demon court. He was diminished now, and he must hide until he could regain his strength, or his enemies would devour him to increase their own power.

Slowly, he crept down the hall, hoping to make it back to his chambers unseen, where he could devour his slaves and heal his body's wounds.

Neither demon noticed that behind in the chamber, the artifact shivered, awakened from a long slumber.

***