As he wanders around the fairgrounds with Glammur, Tric asks various people he meets, “What is this catapult? Do you have a cat problem in the town? I thought you had a Rat problem.” In response, he is repeatedly directed toward an enormous structure draped in sheets on the far side of the field. “But what is this going to be?” he demands, bothered by the mystery. “They’re going to pull the sheet off in some dramatic reveal of… what? A walking puppet?”
“It’s likely a device of some sort, given that the Engineer is involved,” Glammur says. “But I do nae think walking puppet. They’ve already got those.” The dwarf gesture at the performers with pumpkin heads walking through the crowds on stilts.
“A horseless carriage? Perhaps a giant piece of farming equipment? An auto-tiller?”
“Farming equipment, noo that would make sense,” Glammur agrees, given the agricultural bent of the festival.
“But why call it a cat-apult?” Tric presses. They bat around theories on the origin of the word. So absorbed are they by the discussion that they do not notice that they have wandered into a part of the fairgrounds that is closed to the public. “Pult, that’s sort of like pelt. It must be a weapon of some kind that throws or hurls things. Perhaps like an enormous see-saw, with the projectile on one side. But what do they drop that is heavy enough to send something flying?”
“Maybe someone climbs up the structure and jumps aff it,” Glammur suggests.
* * *
Following her purchase, Alric guides Heppa over to the catapult display. “Do you know what a catapult is?” she asks him along the way. “I bet Serces knows…”
Alric smiles slyly. “Now, now, I don’t share information about my customers’ businesses,” he replies.
“You know the Engineer?”
“Oh, yeah. I wouldn’t say he is a regular, but he certainly comes to the Parting Glass every now and then.”
“So he lives here in town?”
“Yes, he was the architect of the actual tower itself,” Alric explains.
“So that’s what an engineer is? Someone who builds structures?”
“Builds, yes. Sometimes helps destroy.” Alric relates the well-known—among humans—story of Gweddry blowing up the bridge over the Ford of Abez during the war with Mal-Ravanal. The Engineer assisted with that explosion. Alric does not know the details of how it was accomplished, whether by alchemical techniques or black powder such as the dwarves use.
“Did it involve silver salts?” Heppa teases, referring to some of Alric’s alchemical mishaps when he was a young apprentice. They laugh over that, and then Heppa asks whether the Engineer is of the Dunefolk.
“Not as far as I know. Gweddry met him north of the Great River, where they joined forces, but where he is from beyond that, I don’t know.”
When the time comes, a somewhat frail elderly human rips the giant cloth down and presents the much-discussed contraption. “Behold my masterwork, the catapult, over which I have labored for many years. It will revolutionize combat as we know it.” It is a mostly wooden device, though Heppa also sees some metal fasteners and rope. The most pronounced feature is the large bucket at the end of an arm. The Engineer turns a crank, winching the arm down within reach. Some assistants come forward and, in the spirit of the festival, load the bucket with a huge pumpkin. The Engineer slides a flat hook attached to a cord in place to take the tension and releases the rope. Then he steps back and yanks the hook free. With the sudden release of tension, the arm soars forward sending the pumpkin hurtling in a high arc toward what is supposed to be an empty section of field.
* * *
“Are they launching a pumpkin?” Tric asks, bemused. At this distance it is hard to see the particulars of what is happening at the other end of the field. “That’s… that’s going rather far… coming rather close!” The pumpkin is on a collision course headed straight at him and Glammur. “I hate to say it, but bring out those bagpipes,” Tric yells, grabbing for his bow. Mate shifts from lazily circling overhead to being useful, flying towards the pumpkin to help Tric sight the distance. Glammur begins playing the most piercing notes their bagpipe can produce, and magic flows through Tric, augmenting his already keen archery skills. Tric rapidly fires a storm of arrows, peppering the pumpkin enough that the large squash bursts while still aloft. Pumpkin innards rain down upon the elf and dwarf, coating them harmlessly with seeds and goo. Mate swoops down and samples some.
Unable to resist addressing his audience, Tric shouts out, “It’s good to know the forest will be safe from your still-impressive weapons.”
From Heppa’s vantage point, it is a grand show. The Engineer goes on to explain how catapults can be installed on walls to defend cities. “Obviously, in a time of war you would be using more fearsome missiles than gourds. The pumpkin was chosen so as to not hurt anyone,” he hastens to add, adjusting his speech to avoid losing any face over the destruction of his missile.
Guards hustle Tric and Glammur out of the firing zone so that the planned demonstration can continue. They meet back up with Heppa and Alric. “If Fenowin had one of these, she could use it to launch pollen far,” Heppa observes. Tric groans at the thought of all the sneezing, while Glammur points out that the tree canopy would interfere with such a use.
As they make their way out of the fairgrounds, Tric cannot resist juggling some of the small keepsake gourds that he purchased as presents for his dad and some of the scouts. His performance catches the eye of the other festival goers. “Oh, look, more of the gourd jugglers are over here! This one’s an elf!” A small crowd begins to form.
Tric continues to keep the gourds moving while also adding in a story. He tells the tale of the banishment of the shadow mages, muddling the details in order to honor the non-disclosure agreement with Rhaessa. He leaves out any mention of the Book of Rhys and does not specify his own involvement. Rather, he describes the band of brave adventures as including some elves, a mage, and a dashing assassin who faced a tentacled beast of the undercity. “Juggling the light and the dark,” he adds dramatically as gourds pass from hand to hand.
There are some in the audience who hear his tale with interest, connecting dots that Tric thought he had obscured. But they do not take any immediate action on this day of the festival.