The invisible orchestra produced a deafening fanfare. The lights died away, leaving eight spotlights pointing down at the stage.
"Oh, who will the Sorcerer's Apprentices send?" Bunny asked, bouncing up and down in her seat clutching a handkerchief between her hands. "The Pervects can't handle fire. Tolk will burn his mouth! And Bee—"
In a moment we had our answer. On the floor of an arena with deeply raked sides, eight figures each took their places on a circle of light. A huge Troll, an Imp, a male Pervect, a female Jahk, a Gargoyle, a muscular man without a hair on his head, and a flying shark stomped, strode or wriggled into view. They were joined by a tiny figure wringing his hands together over his head in a sign of victory.
"Melvine?" I asked.
"Don't worry about him. We're pretty impervious to heat," Markie said, waving away my concern. "It's one of the first things you learn in fourth grade. That's the Fire Elemental class."
Schlein appeared on the center of the circle of contestants. He held up the brown potato, and tossed it to the Troll. The Troll caught it between thumb and forefinger and threw it to the next contestant in line, who passed it on at once. It didn't look like a challenging contest to start.
I was wrong. Before the vegetable had made a complete round it started glowing slightly. Sweat breaking out on the face of the Imp told me that it had grown almost too hot for him already. He tossed it away and rubbed his palms together. Disdainfully, the Pervect received the missile and sent it on. The Jahk threw it to the Gargoyle with a pained shriek.
"That hurts!" she cried.
"Come on, sweetie, suck it up!" Tanda advised the image. "You're a Jahk!"
The Gargoyle had no trouble holding onto the potato, but he wasn't very good at throwing. The bald male had to dive for the potato, and tossed it in his hands until he all but batted it toward the shark.
Faster and faster the glowing spud went around the ring. It burst into flames on the sixth round. The Troll yelped and started batting at the fur on his arms. Flames licked up and down his limbs. He had set himself on fire. While he was batting out the fire, the potato hit the ground.
"You're out!" Schlein's voice called.
"Aarrrgggghhh!" the Troll snarled. He stomped away. Gingerly, the Imp snatched up the potato and flicked it in the direction of the Pervect.
The Pervect held out his hands for it. I thought it was pretty brave of him, since fire is one of the few things that could harm his kind. At the last moment the flaming missile took a curve. Someone in the circle was trying to keep it away from him. The Pervect snarled and reached for it with his own magikal force. The missile did a right angle in mid air and headed for his palms. It looked like he had it in the bag, but at the moment before impact he winced, closing his eyes. The potato dropped straight down, hitting the ground. The Pervect opened his eyes, looked at his empty palms, and glared at the others.
"Who did that?" he demanded. The others all favored him with innocent expressions that changed to gleeful leers.
"All's fair in love and Sink or Swim" Schlein's cheerful voice said.
The Pervect gave his fellow contestants one killing glance, and stalked off to join the Troll on the sidelines.
The Jahk did better in the next circuit, speedily handing off the flickering potato to the Gargoyle. It looked like the Bald Guy with Muscles was going to make it one more round. His jaw was set. Bravely, he conveyed it to the shark then dropped to his knees. He held up his hands, and the crystal balls zoomed in to show them. The palms were blistered and swollen to twice their normal size. I cringed in sympathy.
"Medic!" shouted Schlein.
A couple of Sittacomedians in whites came racing onto the stage with a stretcher between them. The Bald Man waved them away, though perspiration ran down his face like a waterfall.
"It's just a scratch," he insisted.
In unison, Bunny, Tananda and Markie stated, "Men."
He was out. The Jahk joined him next, followed by the shark, who lost half a row of teeth three rounds later. Fortunately, he had several other rows of gleaming white fangs.
The Imp, still in the game, grinned madly at the departure of his fellow contestants. He underhanded the now incandescent potato to the Gargoyle. He made it look so easy I was suspicious. Imps were no more immune to heat than Klahds or Jahks. What was going on? It seemed as though I wasn't the only one who wondered about it. A green-skinned, tunic-clad official I hadn't noticed before came marching out onto the floor, and grabbed the Imp by the wrist. He examined the pink male's palms.
"He's wearing Burn Cream!" announced the Sittacomedian.
"No, never!" the Imp protested as he was hauled off the stage. "It wasn't me! They told me it was all right! I didn't do it! It's just magik!"
"Aw, pick a lie and stick with it," Tananda jeered him.
"Cheating!" Schlein said, clucking his tongue regretfully. "That means that Garonamus is disqualified!"
The Geek's bubble over the arena suddenly enlarged. We watched as he shook his head ruefully and scratched the team name off his slate. The bubble shrank to a pinpoint.
The official came marching on, picked up the white-gleaming potato and tossed to the Gargoyle. "Game on!"
The circle had shrunk just that quickly from eight to two contestants. Melvine seemed to be enjoying himself, returning the glowing potato almost the instant it hit his palms. He started pitching fancy throws, lobbing it overhand or pitching sliders in the direction of the slow-moving Gargoyle.
"Is that the best you can do?" he taunted the stone figure.
"Shut up, little man," the Gargoyle grunted, stooping for the potato just in time.
A humming arose.
"What's that?" I asked.
"Uh-oh, folks," Schlein said. "We're running into magik time! The potato is close to detonation. Will one of these brave competitors give it up before they're both blown into little pieces?"
"D'ja hear him?" Melvine said. "You can give up now!"
"No, you give up," the Gargoyle countered. "You're just flesh."
"No Cupy is just flesh, pal! We're Cupies!" Melvine heaved the flaming sphere into the air and hit it like a tennis ball. The Gargoyle caught it in one massive hand. The stone face seemed to contract for a moment.
Schlein leaned into his microphone. "These two just won't stop! I'm very impressed! This has got to change the odds for the Sorcerer's Apprentices. Odds-maker, what do you say?"
The Geek appeared again. He didn't seem impressed. He looked upset. "This moves the Apprentices up to four to one," he gritted out.
I twisted my lips. He assumed they were going to fail. Not MY apprentices!
The humming grew louder and more shrill.
Schlein yelled, "When will they stop?"
But Melvine and the Gargoyle still would not quit. The potato flicked back and forth between them so rapidly it looked like a solid line of flame. The two moved within a couple feet of one another, with the magicians covering the event picking up tight images of their faces and hands. Melvine was sweating now. The Gargoyle looked as though he was, too, until I realized it was the heat from the potato. It was actually melting the stone!
The huge, underslung jaw was set. He clapped his hands on the missile then batted it back. I could see that his palms were beginning to slag. In a moment they would melt off.
The Gargoyle knew it, too. He batted the potato one more time to Melvine then retired, flapping his hands to cool them. Melvine received the potato then floated it in the air over his head while he accepted the applause of the crowd.
Schlein's voice boomed over the noise.
"It looks like—yes, it is—Melvine of the Sorcerer's Apprentices is the winner! But what about the potato?"
Melvine looked up at it. The hum had risen to a scream. Red numerals appeared in the air. The audience chanted along as they counted down.
"Ten, nine, eight, seven…"
"It's going to blow," Schlein said, cheerfully. "Everybody duck! Bye-bye, Melvine!"