Knut the Good - whom I've decided is closest to old Knut - assures me that this is not an election year. Knut the Slacker merely shrugs. I get the impression that he doesn't give a rat's ass, and wouldn't if he found one in his morning nachos.

"Why are you laughing? Who's Hec?"

"Hec is Friend Hecubus, and his ways are wise and cunning!" Knut starts chuckling to himself again. "The forces of evil have not reckoned with the craft of Hecubus. Ho! Ho! Verily will the Evil One rue the day he paid down his campaign deposit."

I think about this. I used to cover politics in towns rather like Sang Sacre, and one this I always noticed was the aging effect of holding office. Even a city councillor without committees gets a haggard, hunted look in a few months. What could being mayor of this town do to an impatient person with ambition? It's a lovely, evil thought.

"Good Gravy, Knut! You're right. The pressure, the fund-raising!"

"The media!"

"Going door-to-door!"

"Debates!"

"Photo Opportunities!"

"Background checks"

"Polling!"

"Election readiness!"

"Ha! He'll be half-dead before election night, and if he wins. . . "

"If he wins, he has city council to deal with!" Knut concludes

"So we just do nothing?" Slacker Knut sounds hopeful.

WhiteKnut and I look at each other, grinning. Neither one of us is the do-nothing type.

"Boss, you need to see this."

I hate it when he says that. I put down the election poster I've been working on. It says, "Vote for Aeshma. He's never been convicted." I've been working on posters like this since I got Hec's air mail. Anything to get the sonuvabitch elected.

I walk into the main room, and see Phred talking to Charpe and Chopper. "Oh good, you're here. Did Phred tell you about our little problem?" I notice the two figures that Chopper is guarding. Their wrists are bound with rope. Elves? Elves in bright red uniforms? I look a little more closely at their faces. What the frell? Then I get it. "These guys stepped out of a mirror, didn't they?"

Charpe answers with that peculiar Orkshire accent of his. "Yeah. We think so. They appeared in our barracks, and there's a looking glass there. There was a looking glass there. I thought they might be Aeshma's spies."

I look at the two. The resemblance is uncanny. "Don't worry," I say to them. "You're among friends. Captain, do you need to keep them bound like that? I think we're all probably on the same side. Why'd you bring them here?"

Charpe nods to Chopper, and the big orc pulls out an enormous blade and deftly slices the ropes binding the elves hands. "Sergeant Chopper told me what happened to your bird. I thought that you could probably figure out what's going on. You know this town better than I do."

The Charpe!elf is rubbing his wrists as he speaks to me. "Thank you. I am Major Turotulco Keensight of His Elven Majesty's First..."

Charpe cuts him off with a wave of his hand. "That'll do." He looks at me. "Can you explain it?"

"Yeah, why are they elves?" Phred says. "I thought all the folks stepping out of the mirrors were double... dopple... ya know, evil twins."

"Doppelgängers. Not evil twins. Opposites. Extremes. They're only evil if the subject is good." I cast about in the recesses of my memory. Something I read once. Ah, there it is. "If I remember right, the original orcs were created by the magical corruption of elves. Is that right, Captain?" Blank looks from the orcs, while the elves start to sputter.

"Why the very idea," ranted Turotulco. "Elves couldn't poss..."

I hold up my hand for quiet, cutting the major off, then address Charpe and Chopper. "It's not that they're your evil twins, it's that you're their evil twins. Only you switched sides." To Turotulco and the Chopper!elf, "We'll see what we can do about getting you back to your 'verse, but I suspect we'll need a wizard for that. Right now we have some serious problems going on here. Will you help?"

"Hey, we've got the new poll results." Says my campaign manager while waving a sheet of paper clapsed in his clawed hand.

"Whatever." I drop into my chair and ready myself for yet another boring meeting. I stave off sleep my thinking of new ways to kill my campaign manager once the election is won.

"It's good news. The Elder Cookie party has suffered damaging attrition from rain and consumption and is falling well behind. The Meadow party's canidate is still a threat, but we're going to start up a new attack on his morality. He was once a member of a satanic heavy metal band and is vunerable to charges of penguin-lust."

"Very well. Then I shall leave you..." I begin to get out of my chair thankful that this has been brief. I haven't been able to get any evil done for days.

"Wait. We still need to go over preparations for your press conference and there are the new TV ads. Not to mention...."

I drown out his annoying voice as I imagine new ways for him to die, today the theme is 'acid'. I notice that he appears to be waiting for me.

"The press conference?" He asks.

"The press. They will be the first to perish when I am mayor and my word is law."

My manager frowns. "Actually, the mayor has to work with the city council and I don't think that killing the press is within the authority of either."

"City council?"

He was once a member of a satanic heavy metal band and is vunerable to charges of penguin-lust."

Well, if I didn't know who this was before...

It's like a string snapping.

The battle has gone somewhere I cannot follow.

One way or another, I can't vote anywhere.

Well, if I didn't know who this was before...

Well, duh! Although folks who never saw my user pics at WX might not have figured it out until now...

edit: Or are you talking about Aeshma?

PENGUIN LUST!!!

Sorry, sorry. Got carried away.

From the Sun Picayune:

[Sang Sacre] Local officials are urging citizens to remain calm following a reported outbreak of penguin lust in the city. The militia are seeking someone in connection with the investigation, and are asking for the populace's help. The suspect is reported to be a flightless water fowl, thirty inches tall, black with white breast feathers, with an extremely prominent nose, and was last seen wearing a black bowtie and a Carmen Miranda hat. If seen, do not approach, as the suspect as believed to be evil and smelly. Contact Sergeant Chopper at militia headquarters in Greenwood if you have any information regarding the suspect.

Wishy-Washy taps me on the shoulder and gives a little wave. "Listen, I'm taking off, all right? I'm not really into elections."

"We may be fighting evil," I say brightly.

"Yeah. Well. Good luck with that, dude. I have to go find a job."

"Job? Well! While I am disappointed that you will not be fighting alongside us in the coming struggle, I am proud of your effort to better yourself."

"Better myself? It's not that, man. I need some money, so I can get me a Playstation 2. Sucks, though. The one in the mirror world had all my high scores."

"That's really tragic," says Penny.

"I know," says Wishy-Washy. He turns his head aside to wipe something from his eyes. "I'll see you around, maybe. I'm going to see if I can scrounge up some Funyuns. I'm jonesing for some snackage."

"Very well, my morally ambiguous twin. May you prosper in your pursuit of electronic diversions and high-calorie snack foods."

"Right. Later." He walks away.

I turn to see Zar sitting patiently on her haunches.

"Eleazar! My good friend!"

"Uh, did you forget my name?" Penny asks. "I'm Penny."

"Yes, of course. I am speaking to my canine companion, who is of course invisible to other mortals so as to cause them to question my mental stability. It's a standard helper-from-beyond clause." It occurs to me that I didn't know this much about the inner workings of good before the mirror split. Bonus!

Eleazar barks.

"What is it, girl?"

She barks several times in quick succession, then licks herself, then growls and barks again several times.

"I see. Our course is clear, then."

"Our course?"

"Yes, friend Penny. That is, if you are willing to face the danger. I would force no one to face the challenge we are about to embark on without full cognizance of its perils."

"What is it? A chthonic voyage to the land of the dead in search of secrets and rebirth? An epic quest across continents to destroy/retrieve/impregnate an artifact of great power? A temporary job as Rush Limbaugh's personal trainer?"

"Those are indeed perilous tasks," I say, shuddering at the thought of Rush Limbaugh wearing bicycle shorts. "But ours is still more perilous.

"No, friend Penny, our task--if your heart is willing--is to volunteer at a polling place."

The press are already gathered. Mayor-to-be-Aeshma is coming later, and the journalists are swarming. Literally, in the case of one fellow (or possibly woman) who looks like a giant bee.

I push my way to the front, using my pencil as a weapon, and settle in to wait for the candidate.

//Dagfari? Get the cell ready. I'm going to need to teleport back in a hurry.//

//Yes, Miss. And try and catch that bear, will you?//