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Dancing Pegasus “Aeropæia,”began the old man. “It is a world of mystery and wonderment!”

“Please, Teller,”interrupted a little one. “Tell us the one about the faeries that come in the night bringing sweetmeats!” The old man scowled at the tike with his one good eye, the other eye a mass of yellowing white glaring off in to unknown places.

“You ungrateful little wretch!” he snarled, droplets of spittle spraying out from the gap between his two brownish front upper teeth. “I offer you the epic tales of the grand olden days, of Godly men who took the world from evil, but all you care about are made-up fancies from the heathens about little bits of nonexistent fluff? I ought to—” He raised his gnarled cane and acted as if he was going to strike the youngster across the face with it. The child squealed in terror and bolted for his mother's arms. As he sobbed into her chest, she glared at the Teller-of-Tales. Unimpressed, the Teller scratched at his stubbled chin, the jagged fingernails of his right hand rasping across the uneven skin. His fingers poked through the tips of the filthy and tattered knit gloves. Turning his good eye to glare at the rest of the audience still paying him the quiet and respect due his station as a Teller, he continued spinning his tale.

“Lost in the annals of time and space, only the most learned of sages remember the name 'Aeropæia.' Creatures of myth still abound there — gryphons, trolls, bugbears — all battling for their own little niche of life amongst the humans.

“The Great Goblin War had ended not fifty years before. The land still bore the scars from the ravages of it. Little hot-spots of goblin activity were still heard of when travelers came from afar.

“The land was mostly peaceful, for the nonce. Raiders still sacked the occasional village and highwaymen would waylay the unwary.

“Most villages were never mapped for they never lasted long enough. The larger towns had been in place for centuries. Names such as Gil'ad, Lakhish, K'far Nachum and Yerushalayim brought excited gasps from the listeners as they dreamt of one day finding their way to one of those 'Golden Cities' to make their own names famous. Seas of great expanses were heard of, as well as the local sufs — deeper than any man could dive.

“The world of Aeropæia had much to offer an adventurer — excitement, adventure, thrills, riches and . . . ,” Teller paused, his eyes both good and bad squinting before he continued in a rasp, “death!” He leaned back chortling to himself as the children gathered around listening to him squealed in fright. Several of the parents gave knowing winks to one another about the tale Teller was spinning.

“Oh, and by-the-by,”he spoke in a clearer voice, his good eye fixing the adults with a steady gaze. “The Goblin king's treasure trove was never found . . . .”