The Planeswalking Tavern: Passion for Fire

This is a series of vignettes centred around a fictional Tavern in the Magic Multiverse.

 

WITHOUT a doubt, Zarin the Entertainer knew how to make an entrance. With his steed flying perfectly amongst the clouds against the bright blue midday sky, he turned the beast down towards The Planeswalking Tavern, plummeting himself and his ride in the direction of the building before guiding the flying animal away and to a side, and amidst the heavy breathing of the creature he could hear the gasps and expressions of wonder and terror from The Tavern’s patrons.

His steed, for all intents and purposes, was a dragon of majesty and elegance, its long and serpentine body snaking away into the air culminating in a tail that whipped left and right like it was trying to swat the very atmosphere in excitement.

Jéne E. Ilk, master, captain, and owner of The Planeswalking Tavern walked away from the group of special guests he had assembled in front of the building and greeted Zarin with applause.

“I see your trip to Kamigawa wasn’t wasted!” exclaimed the proprietor to the dragon tamer. “Although bear in mind that you’re scaring the living daylights out of the paying customers!”

*                    *                    *

It was another sell-out performance by Zarin and his entertainment troupe. Flowers were thrown and kisses were blown, hoots were delivered and a standing ovation dominated the theatre hall of The Planeswalking Tavern. Seated in the front row were Jéne E. and his special guests, all of whom thoroughly enjoyed the stage show as well as the buffet that followed. Leading the in-house band that provided background music during the meal was one of Jéne E.’s closest confidants, a man by the name of Rani. Backstage, Hafiz R. Naga was doing his best to ignore the festivities and get on with his scheming, most of which involved protecting the planeswalking engine from further attacks. Once in a while he would speak into a communication device to some other planeswalker to settle this issue or that, then return his attention to the tasks at hand.

The day couldn’t have gotten busier.

A crate was delivered to the establishment sometime that evening, after most of the celebrations were out of the way. Jéne E. signed the recipient’s form and had the crate transferred to the vault in the basement, mentioning to his guards that no one, no one at all apart from himself, should be allowed to approach the container until tomorrow morning.

“What? Did you order a whole stack of un-matching socks?” asked Naga.

“Better than that,” replied Jéne E. “Much, much better.”

Four men had dinner at the same table that evening. Jéne E. sat in his usual place, Zarin and Naga to his left and right, and Rani the musician occupied the chair opposite the tavern master. They discussed certain issues that would have been too sensitive to discuss in normal company, mostly related to The Planeswalking Tavern and to the individual businesses that each man managed.

Zarin got out a stack of papers and referred with Jéne E. a number of spreadsheets, timetables, graphs, inventories, and anything else that existed under the sun. Naga and Rani, for the most part, kept to themselves, checking and updating their own papers in solid silence, unless vocally provoked with words. In these cases, Naga gave answers that were either mild or enthusiastic, but Rani was a different breed, giving short and soft answers that challenged the limits of the human ear. Perhaps he was shy, or perhaps he was just tired from the tasks that have taken placed over the course of the recent days. Jéne E. didn’t blame him.

The meal was over far before the four men finished discussing the fortunes and futures of The Tavern, but they all agreed at one point that they needed to rest and regain their strength. Jéne E. soon found himself lying on his mattress, trying to succumb to slumber while his mind was a myriad mess of adrenaline, excitement, and ideas. There was so much to do, and there was so little time in a day. If only he was as powerful as the Magus who safeguarded his business, to be able to stop Time, to be able to render age a harmless liability.

He couldn’t stand it any longer. Jéne E. got dressed and walked down the building’s corridors towards the vault in the basement. He gave the password to the guards before entering the chamber in which the recently transferred crate was kept. The man touched the durable alloy box, rubbing his fingers along the edges to get an idea of how wonderful the treasure contained within was. Magic heightened his euphoria and he felt as though he had slipped into a dream of paradise.

Without voice and without sound, his mouth moved to pronounce words as ethereal as the invisible air, mystical and mythical words that should never intrude upon mere mortal minds.

The container cracked.

With fever and vigour Jéne E. hastened his spell, slurring his silent words as he increased the velocity of his monologue. Blinding light played across his vision, emanating from the fissures on the container’s surface, emanating blue and white and gold and red.

The crate fell apart not under its own volition, to reveal to the two human eyes a creature of splendour and magnificence. With large wings, a long tail, a scaled body, and a cough that exhaled fire, there was not mistaking the species in question. The crate wasn’t a crate at all; it was an egg.

Jéne E. extended a hand and allowed a bunch of fodder to appear within his palm. The tamed animal greeted this gesture by eating out of the master’s hand.

*                    *                    *

“Where have you been?” Naga asked. “We tried contacting you but you never answered. And Rani needs you to sign some documents.”

The master called Jéne E. just smiled and let the words of the other man slide off his back. He was too happy to let anything ruin his mood.

Naga noticed this immediately and said, “So tell me what happened.”

“Just some gorgeous chunk of loveliness,” Jéne E. answered.

Naga pressed with, “Such as?”

“Ooh, what a body!” exclaimed the master.

“Jéne….”

“This is gonna be your year, my little darling. Your year!”

Unable to make sense of what had just been said, Naga dropped a bunch of documents onto Jéne E. desk and quickly retreated, not wanting to suffer the same mental anomaly that had engulfed his friend’s mind.

>End of story.