slick back his hair, then strutted into the room. Everyone else followed - Dunder meekly, with eyes cast down, Baloo and Kit with eyes wide and mouths agape.

The throne room was fitted out with the best that money could buy. Almost every inch of the walls were covered with tapestries depicting the glorious feats of the Knights of the Sound Table. On the left side was the legendary table itself where a few knights were gathered, drinking mead out of pewter mugs. And at the far end of the throne room were two large, ornate chairs where the king and queen sat. In attendance were the faithful ladies-in-waiting. Adding to the mayhem was a jester, who pranced around the room, playing his lute and singing. All activity, save for the queen’s noisy gnawing on a turkey leg and the jester’s singing, ceased when Baloo and Kit entered.

“What is it, Sir Nozzle?” the king, who looked suspiciously like the High Marshall, drawled.

“Sir Spigot, O Worthy Sire,” he corrected with a deep bow.

“Whatever.” The king plucked the lute from the jester and broke it over the entertainer's head, causing him to slump to the floor, unconscious. “Why havest thou pestereth us? Cannot thou seest that we are busy?”

The queen, having finished her turkey leg, tossed the bone at Spigot. It ricocheted off his breastplate with a clang.

“Well thrown, my queen,” Spigot said with a nervous laugh.

Grunting, the queen snapped for the page to bring her another turkey leg.

“Gettest thou to the point, Nozzle.”

Proudly, Sir Spigot proclaimed, “Knight-in-training Dunder and I foundest yon dangerous strangers lurking in the forest.”

The king yawned. “Thou knowest the drill. Burn them at the stake.”

Baloo exclaimed, “But I don’t wanna die before I’m born!”

Before they even had a chance to flee, four big, burly knights flanked the time travelers and started dragging them towards the door.

“Help!” Baloo and Kit yelled.

End of part 4

No Time Like the Present
part 5

Hammalot

Baloo and Kit were tied back-to-back to a charred stake in the middle of a grassy courtyard. Under their feet was a big pile of firewood. Everyone in the realm, from the lowliest peasant to the King and Queen, was in attendance. After all, it wasn’t every day that they got to see a good burning at the stake.

The court jester strolled amongst the crowd, strumming on his patched up lute and singing to the tune of ‘Greensleeves’: “The strangers will burneth, their eyes will sting, much to the delight of the Queen and King...”

Baloo muttered, “I’d like ta make somethin’ of his sting.” He tried to wriggle his bound hands, but the knots were too secure. He couldn’t even move his pinkies. Slumping against the stake in defeat, he said, “Well, guess this is so long, Li’l Britches. It was nice knowin’ ya.”

Kit, whose was concentrating on freeing his hands, said absently, “Yeah. Same to you, Papa Bear.” When he had loosened the knot enough to slip his small hands out, he murmured a triumphant, “But I’m not burned yet.”

Feeling Kit working on his ropes, Baloo grinned. “It’s really nice ta know ya.”

Following a loud trumpet fanfare that rendered half of Hammalot deaf, Sir Spigot clanked up to the royal box where the King and Queen sat on their outdoor thrones, shaded from the hot sun by a striped canopy. Removing his helmet and handing it to Dunder, who stood respectfully behind him, he bowed theatrically, then said, “Thy royal highnesses, honorable knights of the Sound Table, beautiful ladies of the court...” He flashed a simpering smile at the women.

The king barked, “Keepeth it short, Sir Spigot!”

Spigot cleared his throat. “Anon, we art about to burneth yon strange strangers...”

Under his breath, Baloo interjected, “Nobody’s stranger’n you, shorty.”

“But before the strangers art toasted to a crispeth, perhaps you’d like to hear of my latest-eth dashing deeds, sire.”

“Another dragon, Nozzle?” the apathetic King said while the crowd groaned.

“It was as tall as a full-grown oak and a wingspan of a hundred eagles. Thou shouldst seen the destruction it caused in the forest. Whole trees snapped in two.”

“It made-eth a big mess,” Dunder added.

“But the scurvy beast was no match for Sir Spigot! One well-placed jabbeth with my lance and the dragon was silence-eth. Sire, mightest I request that thy royal highness and thy lovely wife,” the Queen stopped gobbling a mutton leg long enough to look disdainfully at Sir Spigot; “travel to yon dell two hilltops over to see-eth the carcass of this great beast?”

The king snorted impatiently. “If it existeth.”

The other knights snickered. They knew Sir Spigot’s reputation for tall tales.

“But it does existeth, sire! I sweareth it does!” Sir Spigot cried.

“Verily!” Dunder waved the tube of liniment above his head. “The strangers brought this out of the belly of the yellow dragon.”

“What manner of strange substance is that, pray tell?” the king asked languidly.

“The strangers call it liniment. It getteth helmets off, stoppeth squeaks, and has a goodly taste.”

The queen perked up her ears. She snapped her fingers, prompting the page to seize the liniment from Dunder and bring it to her. After tasting one drop, she smacked her lips, smiled, and squeezed the entire tube into her mouth. She then grunted, “Good! More!”

From atop the pyre, Baloo yelled, “We got a whole bunch of that stuff back in the plane, er, yellow dragon. We’ll give it to ya if you let us go.”

“Theymasteresth the yellow dragon?” the king said, showing slight astonishment.

Everyone’s eyes turned to Baloo and Kit, who were now untied, but trying to act as if they weren’t.

Dunder nodded furiously. “Aye. They toldest me so.”

A gasp ran through the crowd. Everyone stepped a few paces back from the stake.

“Listen, folks, this is all a big misunderstandin’. Ya see, this mornin’ me an’ Kit were...” Forgetting that he was supposed to be tied to the stake, Baloo stepped to the edge of the woodpile.

From within the amazed crowd, two people shouted: “Howst he came to be freed?” and “They must be great sorcerers, indeed!”

“Great sorcerers?” Baloo said wonderingly, looking behind him. Seeing no one there but Kit, he squeaked, “Us?”

The king demanded, “If thou art a sorcerer, show us thy magic.”

Baloo gulped. “Magic?” Glancing helplessly at Kit, his mind raced to remember any of Louie’s magic tricks.

Kit shrugged and murmured, “Nothing like a command performance.” He didn’t like the fact that they were surrounded by knights with swords that could mince them into itty-bitty pieces.

“Magic now!” the king commanded loudly.

Getting a sudden idea, Baloo began digging through his shirt pocket. “Gimmee a sec, your majesty.”

“What are you doing?” Kit whispered.

“Lookin’ for my matches.”

“Matches?” Kit echoed, his voice cracking. “That’s the last thing we need right now!”

“They want sorcerers. They’re gonna get sorcerers.” Finally, Baloo located his matchbook and tore off one match. Holding it up, he boomed, “Behold! With one flick of the wrist, I’ll set this ordinary stick on fire.”

But no matter how many times he struck the match against the strip on the back of the matchbook, it refused to light.

Chuckling nervously, Baloo said, “Must be defective.” He tossed that match aside and tried another one. To his immense relief, it lit.

Collectively, the awestruck Hammalottians murmured, “Ooo!” As in one accord, they bowed deeply.

“Now that’s more like it!” Baloo basked in the glow of fame. When the flame scorched his fingers, he shook the match to extinguish the fire.

The king said, “O mighty sorcerers, because of thy unlimited magic and thy powers over dragons, thou shalt be rewarded.”

Taking his burnt finger out of his mouth, Baloo beamed at Kit. “This is gettin’ better an’ better.”

“Thou art to accompany Sir Nozzle and Knight-in-Training Dunder on a quest. A quest to destroyeth the dragon that liveth in the Dragon’s Den.”

Baloo blanched. “Dra...dra...dragon’s Den? With a real, live fire-breathin’ dragon?”

The king drawled lazily, “What other kind of dragon be there but fire-breathing? Now, go. I tireth of thee.”

With another blaring trumpet fanfare, the crowd dispersed. Baloo and Kit had just hopped down from the stack of firewood when Dunder approached them.

Shyly, Dunder said, “Wouldst thou great sorcerers honor me by staying at my humble abode?”

Baloo shrugged. “Might as well, unless ya got a Hammalot Inn?”

Confused, Dunder replied, “But we are-est already in Hammalot.”

Baloo chuckled. “Never mind. How many knights have made it through this dragon quest, anyhoo?”

“None,” Dunder replied as the threesome crossed the courtyard and ambled down the hill

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