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Fitzroy is lounging in front of the house, harp in hand, when he feels a foreign shudder of magic. He sits up with interest and contemplates finding someone to investigate with him.
They’d probably say something boring, though, like ‘do you really think it’s a good idea to investigate a mysterious magical anomaly with no preparation?’ or maybe, ‘do you remember the last time you fell into Faerie? Could we, perhaps, not do that again?’
Fitzroy does pause to scribble a quick note (between he and Kip, they find it better to leave odd bits of paper all over, just in case inspiration strikes). Then he gets up and lopes after the oddity.
It doesn’t take Fitzroy long to see them – five confused figures in courtly raiment, two holding spears. A baffled Kip in his red Secretarial uniform bends over to talk to their eight-year-old neighbor, Sayina Lira, who hops up and down with a basket clutched in her hands. She spots Fitzroy and immediately bolts toward him with excitement.
“Fitzroy Fitzroy Fitzroy! It’s like a story!” she cries, flinging a hand back at them. “The tanà’s got himself in trouble!”
“He did, I see! Along with the rest of us,” says Fitzroy, mirthful. His smile dims as he gets a look at them, and especially at the magic around his alternate-self.
The bindings of the Taboos linger there, even now. Fitzroy squeezes Lira to his side.
“Is the tanà gonna fix them?” Lira asks.
“Oh, undoubtedly,” says Fitzroy. He turns toward the staring visitors, offering a jaunty bow; he’s delighted to see all of them cringe. “Will you accompany me? I am afraid this is not the first case of duplicates we’ve had; Cliopher has made comparisons to the story of Five Shells, Sayo Mdang, if that information helps you.”
“...we would appreciate any assistance you can give, then,” says alternate-Cliopher slowly. “Ah, if you agree, my lord - “
“I certainly do not see an alternative,” murmurs his Radiancy, mild. His eyes keeping flicking up and around Fitzroy – looking for the Taboos, undoubtedly. Fitzroy bids goodbye to Sayina Lira. As the group trails him Cliopher hurriedly whispers an explanation of the Five Shells to the others.
Upon arrival Sayo Mdang gasps, “That’s Saya Dorn’s house!”
“It is yours, now. Or rather ours.” Fitzroy flings open the door and marches in. “Conju, dear! My darling Conju, who I respect very much - “
A groan.
“ - we have guests,” Fitzroy finishes, waving them into the generous dining room.
Conju comes to see. “How many - oh, dear,” Conju sighs, only faltering a moment. “Fitzroy. What did you do?”
“Now how is that for a welcome,” Fitzroy cries, pulling himself up to sit on the counter dividing the dining-area and kitchen. He idly plucks at his small harp, peering back at the five mirror-selves who edge slowly closer to the dining table. He swings his legs. “I have invited them for a meal; they’re lost, you see.”
“Oh, are they? Fortunately I cook in constant anticipation of descending Mdang-relatives. Grab some more plates, will you?”
Alternate-Conju draws a scandalized breath. Fitzroy feels his grin widen. “Certainly… oh, we don’t have anything purified, though.”
“Of course we do – there’s a box in the cabinet.” Conju gestures.
Taken aback, Fitzroy drops his harp and darts straight to the one he indicated. “Oh! I don’t know how to feel about that… you kept purified ones? A whole set?”
“Of course I did. You and Cliopher managed to get sucked into the Divine Lands before you even retired. And Cliopher met an entirely different duplicate of himself, before that. He has a trickster-god for an uncle. One of us must prepare for your nonsense.”
Fitzroy considers this, tension easing. “Fair, I suppose.” He tugs out the box and goes to set the table. Alternate-Conju twitches and fidgets like he wants to help, but doesn’t quite dare. Between he and Conju the food is dispensed quickly; platters of fresh fruit, muffins, eggs. Conju pointedly prods him to the side when he starts to fill his Radiancy's dish.
Ah; no fruit on the purified plate. Right.
Fitzroy notices his own mirror, clearly still Lord Magus of Zunidh, looking between him and Conju with intense focus. Pity stirs in his chest. He opens his mouth.
But then they all hear footsteps; Ludvic steps in a moment later. He pauses, blinking mildly at the newcomers, and turns to Fitzroy with idle curiosity. “Are they an illusion?”
“I’m afraid not.”
“Oh. What did you do?”
Fitzroy sputters. Ludvic shrugs, moving to pour himself some juice. Fitzroy huffily retrieves his harp again. “Neither of you have faith in me,” he complains, thrumming a few notes. “I’ve done great works of magic across the nine worlds, and here you think I’d just carelessly - “
Fitzroy squawks, offended, as Ludvic plucks the entire harp from his hand on the way to a chair. “Hey! What - “
“I know those chords,” Ludvic tells him. “No metaphorical sex-songs about Elonoa’a until after we eat.”
“Suffocating. You are all suffocating my inspiration,” Fitzroy complains. He leans against the wall, contemplating a good anti-theft spell for his harp. “Here I am, with a brand new Kip to admire - ” he pauses, regarding mirror-Kip speculatively.
Ludvic says, “No.”
“I wasn’t going to say it!”
Ludvic repeats, “No.”
Fitzroy sulks.
The alternates are still watching them in bewilderment. Not unexpectedly, mirror-Cliopher is the first to venture a question. “Excuse me,” he says, slow and uneasy, “but – er, my lord - ” here he glances back at the golden-robed Magus in his party, then at Fitzroy, and bravely ventures on. “May I – I understand that this is some, ah, alternate place. But you’ve referenced the Taboos, so I assume you were once Emperor. May I ask why they’re all calling you - ”
“Fitzroy, I do love you, but if you insist on leaving a dozen books of poetry on the bed I really will banish you to your own suite,” Cliopher complains. He’s only wearing his grass-skirts – and his favorite efanoa, of course – and promptly comes up from behind to drape himself over Fitzroy’s back. He wraps an arm around Fitzroy’s waist before seeming to register the visitors.
Like Ludvic, he considers only a moment before asking, “Illusions?”
“No.”
Cliopher mulls over the answer. “It’s too early for this,” he decides, burying his head into Fitzroy’s shoulder. “Fitzroy." He combs an idle hand through Fitzroy's short hair, who preens. "Fitzroy, my dear love, my fanoa. Why.”
“I didn’t do anything?!”
Kip hums doubtfully against his neck.
Fitzroy’s still sputtering his general indignation at the world when the door to the courtyard creaks open. This is on the other end of the kitchen, so Rhodin has to step around Conju before he gets a good look inside.
Rhodin pauses with his foot poised in the air. He contemplates the newcomers. “Ah,” he says, thoughtful. “Fitzroy, did you fall into Faerie again…?”
Fitzroy gives a muffled scream, sinking his face into his hands. “You are all terrible! Why would you assume this is my fault?”
“I feel like that’s a trick question,” says Cliopher.
There’s a loud thud, and things happen very fast.
Alternate-Ludvic – the one in full leopard-skin uniform, with his gold-dipped spear – whirls at the sudden appearance of something behind him. With beautiful reflexes, he stabs at the huge intruder behind his lord, and is promptly thrown four meters back with a crackle of fire.
“My Lord!” Conju cries, fumbling with his pan. Alternate-Rhodin nudges his Radiancy back from the appearance of a large green lizard.
“Is that, is that Saya Dorn’s familiar?” asks alternate-Cliopher, the only one of their visitors who remains in his seat. “Goodness, Ludvic, are you alright?”
The guard staggers to his feet, smoking faintly, but nods.
“You – you magically protected the iguana?” their own Cliopher realizes. Mirth bubbling up, he gently shakes Fitzroy, “I thought you hated the iguana?”
“I do!” Fitzroy bristles. “Of course I hate him.”
“Which is why you specifically spelled him to incinerate threats?”
“I – well – look. Look. My dear, we live with two paranoid ex-guards, and a magically teleporting iguana - “
“I hope he wouldn’t incinerate Rhodin or Ludvic themselves?”
“Of course not!”
“I would never stab My Lord,” Rhodin says, tapping his head solemnly. “We communicate. I always know where he is.”
“Is that why you screamed when he teleported to the bath last week?” Conju sniffs, thrusting a plate at him.
“My Lord is the iguana’s name,” Cliopher adds, apologetically, for their bewildered visitors.
This seems to be the last straw. Finally, almost hysterically, the visiting Sun-on-Earth tips back his head and laughs.
The other four alternates gawk at their lord, then over to their future-selves. Conju stands frozen in horror, Ludvic thoughtful. Rhodin just stares rapturously at My Lord.
Cliopher keeps glancing at his older self, still curled cozily against Fitzroy. His face, it must be noted, is very flushed.
“Oh!” Fitzroy cries. “Wait – there’s a portal opening again. I think I sense it. We should hurry you back.”
So he waves their visitors outside, not that they need it; his Radiancy senses the magic, too. His retinue hurry after him like ducklings. Kip is also dragged out, since Fitzroy doesn’t much feel like letting go of him yet.
"But the iguana," murmurs Rhodin sadly.
“Not much like the Five Shells, if it’s this easy,” Fitzroy tells his beloved while they all gather near the opening portal. Alternate-Conju looks around anxiously, unable to sense the swelling magic. "We haven't even explained - well, anything."
“I suspect they’ve learned a few things despite the brevity,” says Kip, wry. He turns to his Radiancy. “Incidentally, there is a book you need to know about..."
Fitzroy feels a burst of mischief. “And we’re not referencing the book of illegal Fitzroy Angursell poetry in Kip’s writing-kit,” he adds.
Alternate-Kip releases an undignified sound. Fitzroy grins. He recognizes the dim, fragile spark of hope in his counterpart’s gaze.
Just as it was once hard to imagine he’d ever be happy, it is now equally hard to think he could ever find more joy in his life than he does now. But maybe, hopefully, these visitors can get there a little faster.