"So. All you guys do around here is read books and play with the flowers?" Tor asks as Xylon, Oberon, and Virens guide him around the Tower.

*Essentially,* Oberon replies, shrugging. The trio continues along, the floors and passageways gradually growing darker as they ascend the Tower's innards. Xylon, Oberon, and Virens volunteer any tidbits about certain rooms that actually serve purposes. Amazingly, very few of the rooms do anything more than hold books and flowers. Finally, they come to one stair case, and Oberon makes a strange remark.

*I would appreciate it very much if you did not journey above this level of the tower.* His countanance makes it fairly obvious that he is serious - almost deadly so.

"Why's that?" Tor asks, curious what lies above this level of the Tower.

*The next level, and indeed the next four, are essentially where I lair. There are also a large number of extrememly light-sensitive plants there, and given you are a newcomer, well, I don't want you tripping over them or anything. You understand, I hope.*

"Of course," Tor replies. He's almost amazed at how obsessive the little dragon is with plants. It's almost scary.

"Good," Xylon remarks. "Now, considering you've little other places to go, and considering the levels you've seen of the Tower, is there anywhere in particular you would like to board?"

"I get a choice?" Tor asks, almost amazed.

"Well there aren't any other people on the Islands. So, of course, yes, you get a choice."

"Wow..." Tor breathes. He pauses to think about it for a moment before nodding. "Could I have a level lower to the ground - like the first or second story - where light enters from only the North?"

Xylon nods. "Anything else?"

"Just a bed, a closet, and a table and set of chairs should suffice."

"Naturally."

"Wow... This is really kind of you, Xylon. Thanks a lot."

"You ought to thank the rest of us who have to put up with you," Virens remarks, narrowing his eyes.

*Pff... Ignore him,* Oberon suggests. *It's really easy.* He begins to pad away silently. *If you'd like to get out of the Tower and look around the Islands for a while, Tor, I'm more than willing to show you around,* he suggests, taking careful strides so as to not slip while going down the stairs.

"That'd be great, Obie," he admits, utilizing his newly-adopted diminutive for him and heading down the stairs shortly behind him.

"Be careful, Oberon," Xylon cautions stolidly as he follows the two downstairs so he can resume his studies.

*Of course I will be, but what's the worst that can happen?*

"You'd be surprised, Obie. Trouble seems to follow me closely anymore," Tor admits, extracting a smallish chuckle from the little black. Pity I'm not joking, Tor muses in the back of his mind.

A rustle of green feathers bolts passed them as Virens slides down the railing, squawking. "Don't forget about me!" he cries, flopping off the railing and landing in a heap. The three still on the stairs laugh lightly, and they continue their descent.

"Xylon never answered me properly," Tor says as he and Oberon walk the beach of the island. He had been absolutely amazed to see the whole of the beach covered in worn-smooth grains of jasper and the neighboring beach covered with similar pebbles of jade. That was, of course, until Oberon explained that each of the islands' beaches is covered in a different type of stone. Only one is regular sand, and that is the one innermost island. "Just which islands are these?"

*I doubt you've heard of them, but all the texts I've seen regard them as Inla.*

"No... I haven't heard of them..." He glances off across the sea to see it absolutely covered with the islands. "Just how many of them are there?"

*Seventy-five.*

Oberon's answer comes so quickly that Tor whistles lowly. "Wow... This place isn't going to stop amazing me for some time."

*Wait. No. There are only seventy-four and one-half islands. Xylon used half an island for the Tower.*

"Wait. Xylon built the Tower?"

Oberon nods proudly. *He built it for the two of us. He's a very skilled mage, and his talents expand quite far from simply Calling.*

Tor is at a loss for words for a moment before an idea strikes him. "Do you think... do you think it would be too much trouble to get him to put together some of these pebbles of jasper together into a larger orb?"

*It shouldn't be too difficult for him. You can ask him and see.* Oberon nods. *So you met a giant rabbit?* he asks, changing the subject.

"Most unfortunately."

*What did she say? Usually interventions are for some purpose.*

"She tells me I'm to adopt a Bishel, whatever that is."

*Oh! They're cool!* Oberon admits with great candor.

"What are they?"

*Bishels are dragons, like me, only... not... they're similar, and they speak through your mind, and hatch from eggs, but they're on average bigger - just a little, mind - and they're from a different place than we are.*

"Ah... hah..."

*I think you'd be suited to one pretty well. Then again, we dragons usually take all types, so, who knows.* He giggles a little before running down the beach a little ways. *Come on, Tor! There's lots more for you to see!* he exclaims.

*And this is a really really tall tree,* Oberon admits, nodding off to his left.

Tor looks around at the forest through which they're walking. "They're all really big trees," he complains.

*Well... yes. I suppose you're right.* Oberon shrugs his wings, stretching them out just a little. *The forests here are very old. Or very fertile. Or very something. That's not important, though, really. I don't think there's any creatures here that will hurt you, considering how long Xylon and I have been here, and not one has made any evil motions towards us.*

"Well that's a relief. Then again, I never got along well with animals. It's almost scary."

*Not to worry. So long as you don't hurt them, they shouldn't hurt you.* Oberon smiles and nods, leading him through the amazingly peaceful and green forest.

Tor stares around as they go, noting various flowers quite similar to those of Earth. Wherever he is, it can't be too far off from Earth. Or he is participating in an extreme amount of coincidence. Either one is just spiffy, really.

Xylon is reading outside next to a massive old tree, the only one standing in the clearing with the tower. Suddenly, a disturbance in the air around him causes him to look up. A neat pile of stuff is suddenly right in front of the Tower's doorway. Another note is attatched to the pile, and Xylon sighs, closes his book, and snatches up the note.

It is from the strange misspelt rabbit-woman again. Some sharp, repetitive striking at his ankle gives him cause to glance down with mild aggrivation. It's the peacock.

"What, Virens?" Xylon asks.

"You expect me to sit here and not know what's going on with that out-realmer while you read some juicy details? I think not! Read it out loud!" Virens demands.

Xylon sighs and sits beneath the tree again. "The letter just says that Tor's guitar and tarots are here, the egg is on its way, and the orb the rabbit-person accidentally crushed. He'll have to find another one."

"How almost-responsible of her."

Xylon stares at the note as an adendum is scrawled hastily on the paper. "And Oberon and Tor are in trouble and I'd better hurry my sorry little butt to go save them?" he says, wondering over it.

Suddenly, Oberon's voice shoots through his head. *XYLON!* it demands.

Xylon exhales sharply. "I'm coming, Obie," he resolves, calling his staff to his hand, grabbing Virens tightly, and Releasing himself to the location of Oberon and Tor, and whatever else is causing them danger.

"'Ey! Leave Obie alone!" Tor shouts and strikes the strange, multi-limbed thing with his uncovered fist, withdrawing it almost as quickly in pain. He sucks in his breath sharply as the creature wraps a tentacle-like-hand around his forearm and hoists him off the ground while another tentalce-hand-thing wraps around his ankle, pulling down. "OWWW!" Tor screams in pain.

Oberon, meanwhile, is gnawing on his arm-tentacle, but it is to no avail. All the while he is sending out telepathic cries for help to Xylon. *XYLON!!* he screams. *Come quickly!*

Moments later, everyone is pretty much distracted by a sudden appearance of the Avian Caller and Virens. "So you're the one!" he says accusatively.

The monster laughs deeply. "Yes, Xylon. I am the one," he admits in a voice that is amazingly humanistic.

"That voice!" Xylon remarks, his large dark eyes snapping even wider than normal. "Gabrion? But you're ... crippled..."

"More than that, you wretched creature," the monster replies. "I'm not even Avian anymore!"

"Umm... is this a bad time to ask you to let me go?" Tor asks, glad that at least the constant pressure on his limbs is missing. He's fairly certain they're dislocated, though. Or something. They hurt. A lot.

"Yes," Gabrion snarls, his head whipping around to glare at Tor, who is, most unfortunately, facing the wrong direction to get the full effect.

"Damn."

"Gabrion, let them go," Xylon commands.

Gabrion turns to face Xylon again. "Yes, threatening words from a Caller. I should let them go, but I don't want any interference as I make you pay for what you did to me." He laughs wickedly.

Tor bites back another cry of pain as more pressure is exerted on his limbs. If they aren't dislocated already, they will be. If they are... Well, he won't be having an arm or a leg pretty soon. "Well..." he groans, trying not to scream or cry out. "What did he do to you?"

"Wouldn't you like to know?"

A wry smirk plays across Xylon's face. "I took away his wings," he admits. "And it was probably the best thing I ever did."

"Why? So your people and his could destroy themselves?" Gabrion demands.

"Admit it: we deserved it."

"You, you coward, could never hope to understand. You weren't in Palok that night."

"Hello! I was exiled!" Xylon rolls his eyes and shakes his head.

*But you were in Palok!* Oberon interjects. *That's where you found me!*

Gabrion's head jerks violently from Xylon to Oberon and back. "Traitor, too, eh? In all counts! Harming your superiors and sleeping with the enemy?"

*Whoops...* Oberon admits, chuckling nervously. *Sorry, Xylon.*

Xylon nods to his dragon. "Gabrion, you have no quarrel with them. Let them go."

Gabrion laughs. "No. I don't think I will."

Xylon shifts his weight so the majority of it is absorbed by his staff and he thrusts forwards his palm. "Then you'll have to pay the price," he cautions.

Gabrion laughs harder. "By you, Xylon? A Caller? You don't know any lethal spells," he observes.

"Correction," Xylon states, steely nerve overwhelming his whole being. "I didn't know any lethal spells. That was before my exile."

Gabrion scoffs. "I'd tell you not to make me laugh, but it's too late for that." He begins to exert more pressure on Oberon's body and Tor's limbs.

Xylon narrows his eyes. "Have it your way." A deep warble emanates from the back of his throat, and his wings fly open, clearing the channel for his magic to course through his body. An orange arc of light, the color of fire and autumn leaves, shoots from Xylon's palm and through Gabrion's abdomen. Gray feathers get sucked into the beam, and they, too, fly through Gabrion's stomach and out the other side.

Soon, the beam subsides and Xylon clutches his staff harder, staggering with sudden exhaustion. Gabrion, who is still whole, begins to laugh again. "HAH!" he declares. "You are no match for me, Caller! You will always be we--"

And then his body exploded.

Tor and Oberon fall to the ground, covered in raw and half-cooked flesh and blood. Tor rises slowly, favoring his arm and leg which were stretched painfully, and he discovers that neither has been dislocated too badly. Virens steps out from behind Xylon and begins strutting around, spitting at the globs of flesh. Oberon is the last to rise, and he limps over to Xylon, nuzzling the Avian's knee.

"Xylon," Virens says, his voice full of pomp. "You have to Release us to the Tower and get rid of all this... bloo-- argh! I just stepped in it!"

Xylon nods slowly as Oberon glares at the little peacock. *Shut. Up.*

"Eep!" Virens cries.

"I'm going... To send... You, Obie..." Xylon wheezes.

*Clean the forest first. Otherwise the stench of that thing will remain,* Oberon observes.

Xylon nods slowly, and three sharp chirrups clears the gore from the trees. Then, another three sends Oberon and Virens away from them. "Put ... Put your hand on my... shoulder, Tor," Xylon instructs.

Tor nods and does as he is told. Suddenly, he and Xylon are in the clearing outside the Tower beneath a large, gnarled tree. "I'll bring you inside if you'd like," Tor suggests to Xylon.

"Thank you. No. Oberon, go Call me to my room, please." He forces himself to his feet, still leaning heavily on the staff, as Oberon nods and takes flight, ascending the outside of the Tower before hurling in through one of the many balconies. Suddenly, Xylon is not there.

"This whole disappearance act is really getting creepy," Tor observes.

"By the way," Virens notes. "You got mail. Oberon will show you to your room after he tends to Xylon." Then, he struts inside, away from Tor.

Tor's attention is turned to the pile beside the entrance to the tower. He goes to take a step forwards, but there is a book on the ground that catches his eye. He picks it up, notices the language is one he has never before seen, and sees the note that was beneath it. He picks up the note and skims its intentions.

"Hunh. Maybe Bunni doesn't hate me that badly after all," he observes, shrugging.

"Or maybe she just likes Oberon," the voice points out.

"Shut up." Quietly, Tor makes his way over to the stack of stuff. He sifts through it, noticing a smallish collection of mugs and tea leaves and seeds has come in a box for him. "Maybe she actually likes me," he muses, half-chuckling.

"Or ma--"

"--Shut up."

Then, Tor sees Cecilia in her case propped up against the building. He gasps, noting she is not in the least bit damaged, and gives her a gentle hug. "Oh, I missed you!" he breathes sharply.

"Missed whom?" Virens' obnoxiously grating voice asks as the peacock peeks out the doorway. "What is that you have there, out-realmer?"

Tor narrows his eyes. "I have half a mind to smack you with Cecilia," he cautions.

"Oh. Have your instrument, do you, bard?"

"Mu. Si. Ci. An."

"I don't care what you are, provided you play and play well."

"I don't know why I'm dealing with you," Tor admits, sitting down on the ground, tuning Cecilia's strings.

"Because I'm me, of course."

"And you're going to be dead soon if you keep it up like that," the voice snarls.

"Shut up," Tor cautions.

"Did you just tell me to shut up?" Virens demands.

"No. I told the stupid little voice in my head to shut up. It never provides necessary commentary, you know?"

"No. I wouldn't know," Virens replies flatly.

"Pity. It adds such variety to my life."

"I'm sure it does."

"I'm so going to kill him if you don't get rid of him soon, Giuseppe," the voice cautions.

"Good to know," Tor mutters.

"Of course it is," Virens replies in a tone that suggests his should be the only opinion one needs.

I wasn't talking to you, Tor thinks, tuning Cecilia a bit more. He plays a few different chords before tightening her strings just a little more.

"What are you doing, bard?" The peacock evidently insists on being annoying.

"Tuning Cecilia," Tor replies.

"Plotting your demise," the voice supplies.

"Will you stop?" Tor hisses.

"No."

"Are you always like this?"

"Pretty much."

"Who are you talking to?" Virens wants to know.

"The same person-thing I was two minutes ago," Tor replies coldly.

"Ahh. When are you going to play?"

"Will you just go away?"

"Not until you prove you really are a bard."

"I'm NOT a bard. I am a musician."

"Same difference."

"It isn't either."

"Yes. It is."

Suddenly, the voice starts singing. "I feel like chicken tonight. I-I feel like chicken tonight! Chicken tonight!"

"No. Bards tend to have magical voices or travel around or at least write the majority of their own pieces of music. Musicians, on the other hand, just play. Okay? Now shoo."

"I don't want to," Virens protests.

"You know what. If you don't leave soon, I'm going to let the little voice in my head fry you ultra-crispy and then I'm going to eat you, okay? Now go. Away. Quickly."

"I think you're bluffing."

Tor watches with vague amusement as the blades of grass around Virens' feet suddenly start to smolder before bursting into flame.

"AIIIIEEEEEE!!!!" Virens screams, running away as far as he can.

Just as soon as it had started, the fire stops. Maybe the voice isn't as bad as he thought. He laughs a little and starts playing a few notes of 'Cecilia,' the song that named Tor's guitar. It was only later that Tor discovered Cecilia was a patron saint of musicians. Lucky coincidance, that.

"Jubilation," the voice sings, picking up at the third and final stanza. "She loves me again."

"I fall on the floor and I'm laughing," Tor replies, taking up the next line.

"Jubilation," the two chorus, light-heartedly. "She loves me again. I fall on the floor and I'm laughing!" The voice sends a vision of the peacock running in absolute panic over Tor's eyes again, and the two start laughing a little harder.

*Tor?* Oberon asks sooner than Tor had expected.

Tor catches his breath and turns. "Yeah, Obie?"

*I can show you to your room now, if you'd like.*

Tor nods and rises, holding Cecilia's neck tightly. "How's Xylon?"

*Much better. This way, please.* The little black dragon trots into the Tower and up to the second floor. *I can summon your things if you'd like.*

"How are you feeling, Obie?" Tor wants to know.

*I've been better.*

"Then I'll get my things, thanks. Just show me the room."

*It's... This one,* Oberon announces, nodding to a curtained-off doorway. *We'll put up a more permanant door if you'd like later.*

Tor nods. "Thanks a lot. Take care of Xylon." He sets Cecilia down in the doorway. "Oh. And one of Xylon's books was outside. You want me to bring it in?"

*No thanks. I'll get it.*

"All right then," Tor says. "Take care of him. And yourself."

*You, too.* That said, Oberon leaves Tor alone to start moving in on his own. It takes a bit, but soon he is all settled in. Then, he sets down to sleep, almost totally exhausted.

A bright light flashes, and Tor opens his eyes. He's in that stupid room again, and Muffin, Bunni, and Mouse are all there again. He sighs. "What now?" he wants to know.

"We've secured an egg for you. A Bishel egg!" Bunni replies, elated. "And I don't have to edit you! Isn't that wonderful? Aren't you happy?"

"Thrilled. Stay off the sugar."

"I figured as such," she sighs. Mouse and Muffin, meanwhile, are sitting at the table still drinking tea and playing with dolls and action figures.

"Can I go now?"

"Not without the egg, you don't!" She snaps her fingers, and a green egg with yellow spots plummets from the sky and lands directly on Tor's foot.

Tor winces, and the foot rolls off onto the marshmallowy floor. "Thanks," he says through gritted teeth.

"My pleasure," Bunni replies.

Tor picks up the egg carefully. Something tells me this isn't going to be the last I see of her, he sighs inwardly.