The value of ale

Tad woke and practiced with Beothorn doing ax and shield sparring for an hour. Tad was doing well at blocking with the shield, countering, and deflecting, but using the ax to do the many sweeps and heavy hits did not seem to be improving past a certain point. The ax was heavy for a wooden practice weapon and felt unwieldy when he tried certain attacks. Even though Tad was almost six feet tall now, he did not have the shoulder strength yet. He knew all the stances without the shield, and he swung it well enough for a short time, but to learn this latest skill, Tad recognized he needed to gain more strength in his shoulders, and that could take some time. Beothorn, all though encouraging, looked like he realized it too.

Tad enjoyed the time spent with Beothorn and wanted to make him proud, so he hadn't complained about his lack of progress. Beothorn seemed to look forward to the practices also. After sparing, Tad washed up at one of the large wagon barrels. He was trying to remember which day of the week it was. Everyone was required to take a bath in the bathhouse or river at least once a week, and Tad was likely overdue. Even if carnies did not think they needed it, except for a few of the magical attendants, everyone had to bathe. It was the rule.

After washing up, Tad grabbed a couple of rolls off the food table, waved to his parents and the carnies he knew, then headed off to his first day as the newly promoted volunteer attendant to a bunch of animals that weren't going to like him. Beothorn was not the least bit helpful in getting him out of this newly appointed position. Tad took a deep breath. It is going to be a fine day, he assured himself, trying to remain positive.

Tad walked over to get his cart. He wondered how Jack had been able to cause him such a headache yesterday. He had never experienced that before and didn't want it to happen again. Tad found his cart by number and color. He checked the food stocks, noticing potatoes and apples for the monkeys in one bucket and an empty wooden bucket for Jack's ale next to it. Tad pushed his cart over to the open ale tent. There he waved to the person behind the counter.

Tad placed the bucket on the long counter, "Hi, I'm Tad. I came by here yesterday with Ralph. I am here to pick up the ale for Jack."

The man behind the counter looked older, perhaps in his fifties, with a thin grey beard and short greying hair. "Ahh, so you're the new victim... uhh, I mean attendant," he said with a sly smile.

Tad's smile faded as he contemplated his new plight."Is Jack really that bad? "

"It is not Jack you have to worry about, lad." he said while filling the bucket halfway from a large keg marked "Dregs."

"Hey, aren't dregs the bad part of the ale? I was told to get ale," Tad interrupted the man.

"Oh, I see they didn't explain that to you either. Dregs are what's left in a barrel after the ale is removed and put into jugs or bottles. It is the fermented remainder of the barley, wheat, and hops used to make it. You didn't honestly think a unicorn could survive on alcohol, did you?" He did not pause long enough for Tad to respond. "By the way, I'm John, but everyone calls me Hans due to my last name being Hansgow," he remarked as he handed over the bucket.

"Do not worry. There is plenty of alcohol in the fermented dregs. You better get going. The gates open soon. Jack's tent gets a lot of people. Beautiful girls," he added with a wink. "You will want out of there before that flock lands." With that, Hans turned his back to Tad and returned to work.

Tad didn't understand why he would want out of there. He had perked up quite a bit after hearing that bit about beautiful girls. Tad grabbed the bucket, placed it in his cart, and headed to Jack's tent, walking past the tall pole with varied colored flags hanging from it that indicated fifteen minutes from opening, open, fifteen minutes from closing, and closed. The fifteen-minute flag was not up the pole yet; Tad had some time.

He arrived at Jack's show tent first. Tad nodded to the outside attendant, who was busy putting the benches back in their lines and cleaning up from yesterday's customers. He was an older gentleman that grunted more than talked, so Tad pushed the cart past and into the empty area of the tent.

After a few minutes, Tad had the old straw in the cart and the new straw on the ground. There was no change from the day before in the water trough. "Jack does not appear to drink much water," he thought aloud to himself.

Tad pushed the cart back out of the tent and placed it to the side of the ramp that led to the large door on the wagon that housed Jack. He opened the door slowly, trying to be as quiet as possible, only to be met with the door's low, slow creak. Jack was standing in the back of his wagon. As Tad took a step in, Jack raised his head slightly only to lower it again in bored indifference. Tad did not need to read his mind to understand what his eyes were saying, but there was something else there also, a slight glimmer Tad could not place. Breaking the silence, Tad blurted, "Good morning, Jack."

The unicorn slowly closed his eyes and gave no other response. Tad looked around the dimly lit wagon. The floor was covered with straw that did not appear to need to be changed, and the water trough was still full of water. The only other thing in the room was a low circular table with an empty ale bucket sitting in the middle and a high-back wooden chair sitting next to it. As he looked around once more, Tad picked up the empty bucket. "Well, I do not see anything else that needs to be done in here, and I know you can talk, so." Tad took a breath before adding, "Anything else you need me to do?" He waited with no response. "Do I lead you to the show tent or something?"

"No, kid," projected Jack into Tad's thoughts. "I'll find my way." His tone was tired and disinterested. A moment later, he added, "Make sure you clean the bucket well. Nobody likes day-old grain or built-up grime in their ale. If Ralph didn't explain, my show is normally from ten to mid-day." There was a long pause while Tad just stood there, unsure if he should wait for additional instruction. "And one more thing, kid. Turn down the light show. It is very distracting."

Tad looked around. He didn't see any other light than what was coming in through the doorway and the vent windows on the top of the wagon. Tad certainly would not classify the wagon as bright.

"You don't know, do you?" projected Jack.

There was an awkward pause before Tad conceded, "I guess I don't know."

"Your power of empathy. I do not know what the carnies have told you about it, but you are very loud."

Tad's squinted face spoke volumes of confusion. "Are you talking about my ability to feel people? I actually am able to connect with more people farther out lately." Tad continued proudly before he remembered that Marean had warned him not to say anything. But this seemed different somehow. Jack had the ability to get into someone's mind also. "Marena thinks it is the local mana flow manifesting or something," he continued, but insecurity crept in, and Tad started to backpedal. Perhaps he should not have said anything at all as Marena instructed him. "It doesn't seem to be hurting anyone. I didn't think anyone had noticed," Tad offered in defense. Marena's words came back to him, 'people fear powers they do not control.'

"No kid, your ability, as you call it, is blazing like a campfire with too much wood. I'll tell you what, kid, if you do me a favor, I'll teach you how to control yourself," said Jack.

"Oh yea, sure you will," Tad scoffed. "And what do you want in return, my soul or something?"

"No kid, what would I do with the soul of some carnie teenager." Tad could tell from Jack's tone that he thought Tad was being stupid, "No, I want you to get me a full bucket of good ale. And I mean the good stuff. None of this half bucket of dreg." Jack stated matter of factly.

"My name isn't Kid. It's Tad, and I will not steal ale for you," retorted Tad.

"No, it's Kid, until I say otherwise. And it's not stealing; I expect you to pay for it," Jack stated calmly.

Trying to run the numbers in his head, Tad thought if it's two mugs to a quart and eight quarts to a bucket. How much is that if it is two coppers a mug?

"It's thirty-two coppers, Kid." interrupted Jack.

"Yea, I got to that. Are you reading my mind?" questioned Tad with indignation.

"No kid, you are projecting everything on your mind. I don't have to read anything with that kind of broadcast," proclaimed Jack.

"What?" concern crept into Tad's thoughts. He knew Jack was a legend for pissing people off at the carnival. Maybe he would have been better off cleaning up after the mastodons. Even though he had been terrified of them since he was a small child, they at least could not get in his head. "Ok, fine, I'll get you the ale, but you can't call me kid anymore. It's TAD, T.A.D." Tad announced this louder than necessary, suspecting he was being manipulated, but on the off chance he was broadcasting his thoughts, he better figure this out quickly. Who knew how many people could hear him. He certainly did not want Jack knowing his thoughts, or the beautiful girls he was hoping to bump into, or Samphire. He thought back to his first interaction with Samphire. Has he been hearing his thoughts this whole time? The thought sent fresh fear through Tad.

"That's great, kid. I still have a while before my show. Come back here before it starts, and I will give you some help. In the meantime, while you are cleaning up the monkeys, you might want to start thinking about how you are going to get those thirty-two coppers before the girls start filling the show tent, and you can not think anymore." Jack's bray sounded more like a chuckle to Tad.

Tad turned a shade of red from embarrassment disguised as anger which brought forth a slow explanation through gritted teeth. "I was told not to put the ale in the wagon until after you start your show. I will be back after I clean out the monkey's wagon but not with the ale." And with that, Tad slammed the door behind him, not caring if it disturbed Jack.

Tad rolled his cart over to the monkey's wagon. He found the key to the door in a small wooden box in his cart. He put his ear to the door but didn't hear anything, so he unlocked the door and slowly opened it. The inside was the same as yesterday. The monkeys were in the caged sleeping pen on the left with the gate between the show area and the sleeping pen closed. Everything looked in place, thought Tad, but he still double-checked the closed gate. He cleaned the straw and placed new straw from his cart on the wooden flooring. He placed the monkey's food in the small trough, then left that side, locking the gate behind him.

Tad announced, "Breakfast time," as he opened the gate between the two pens. The monkeys looked up at him and looked at the open gate but did not move.

Tad didn't sense anything around the monkeys. "Come on, get moving. You can sleep on the other side."

The monkeys did not move. Tad knew that most animals had a certain intelligence. The ponies were quite fast at learning things. Certainly, monkeys were at least that smart.

"I'll tell you what, if you guys move to the other side, I'll make sure I get you some extra apples tomorrow. " This seemed to make the monkeys perk up. Perhaps the word apple, or maybe they understood more than they let on. It is a magical circus, and these monkeys literally had magic monkeys printed on the wagon.

The larger male monkey shoved the other two, who appeared to be female, towards the gate. One moved, but the other with lighter fur got a much harder shove before she decided to move. After all three of them were on the other side, they moved up into the branches in the corner of the wagon where it was darkest and went back to sleep, completely ignoring the food. With a shrug, Tad closed the gate between the rooms and then proceeded to clean the pen area. He topped off the water trough, replaced the straw, and placed the second half of the allotted food in three wooden bowls on the floor. Apple slices and potatoes.

He locked the pen and the wagon's door. He dumped the buckets from under the floor grates and took the cart over to dump it. Along the way, he thought how unexpectedly easy the monkeys had been and how overly difficult Jack had been.

All done, Tad headed back to Jack's wagon. He figured he still had half an hour before Jack started his show. However, once he arrived at the tent, Tad noticed girls were already milling about and going into the tent. Tad wondered what kind of show Jack was putting on. He could not possibly be that interesting for all of these girls to show up. Some of the girls looked younger than him and some older, but it was difficult to really know. Elves and dwarves were the hardest to figure out. They always looked younger than they were. Tad decided to avoid them all for right now until he could figure out what broadcasting meant or if Jack was just somehow reading his mind. Tad pushed his cart behind the large tent and walked back up into the wagon. Even though the outside temperature was rising with the morning sun, the inside of the wagon still seemed cool. Tad wondered what kind of enchantments Jack had on his wagon like Marean used on their wagon. Marena kept the family wagon at a temperature she and Beothorn liked. Tad always thought it was a bit chilly, but Beothorn said it felt like he was still in the Hold, his old dwarven settlement.

Tad stood in the doorway for a moment with no acknowledgment from Jack. Annoyed, Tad said, "I am here."

"Yeah, kid, everyone in the carnival knows you are here if they have any soul juice whatsoever." Jack's tone matched Tad's annoyance. "Let's start with that," continued Jack.

"I have a name Jack! Remember our deal?" Tad with a great deal of emphasis.

"Ok kid, everyone now knows you have a name, but I haven't got my ale so let's start with turning down the light show, ok?" Jack wasn't really asking as much as stating facts.

A second later, a flood of images and feelings flowed into Tad's mind. He tried to control it to no avail. It felt like when he had taken the dare to drink from the water hose used for the big barrels. The sudden force of water filled his insides, causing him to choke, sputter, and hack for several minutes; he continued to cough up water for two days after. Except this was in his mind, and Tad felt like it was a balloon about to burst. In a sudden woosh, it stopped as fast as it started.

"Kid, how are you feeling," Jack asked nonchalantly?

Still trying to secure his footing and understand what happened, Tad replied with a weak, "Uhh, weird."

"Yep, you have a big limit, so I pushed a bit more than normal for a new soulscape. Do you know that term, kid? "

"No, I've never heard that before," Tad confessed.

"I'd be surprised if you had. It is what the Fey call wielders of Will powers or Soul magic," as Jack said these words, Tad noticed the glimmer in Jack's eye again.

"Ok, I have to get going for my show. How about you go ahead and drop that bucket off before you forget, then find a nice place to take a nap. We can talk more about it tomorrow." Without another word, Jack walked down the ramp leaving Tad utterly bewildered.

At the bottom of the ramp, Jack looked back, "Oh, try not to look at any of these ladies too hard when you leave. You are still projecting." Jack projected a mental wink and entered his tent.

***