A Meddle of Wizards. Alexandra Rushe
“Reckon she be scooterpootin’ around here somewheres in birdie form.”
Raine rummaged through the packs and found a cloth. Moistening it in the icy stream, she laid the cool compress across the back of Mauric’s neck.
“Thanks.” He put his head between his knees. “I’ll be all right as soon as everything stops spinning.”
A red swift flitted into the glade and shifted into the troll.
“Why have you stopped?” Gertie demanded. “We’re but a few leagues from the Durngarian border.”
“Tiny’s tired and Mauric has giant-itis,” Raine explained. “No offense, Tiny.”
“None taken.” Tiny wheeled about. “See you lot in the morning.”
“Wait, you,” Gertie said, stomping after the giant. “Where do you think you’re going?”
Tiny turned. The giant’s face was a study in innocence. “Nowheres in par-tickler, Gertie. Jes thought I’d poke about a bit, don’t you know.”
“I do know, and that’s the problem,” Gertie snapped. “You’re off to liberate something. See you don’t get caught.”
Tiny started to protest, but seemed to think better of it. “Yessum.”
He lumbered off, his hide skirt swinging about his massive, hairy legs.
“What was that all about?” Raine asked.
“Giants are a notoriously sticky-fingered lot.” Opening a pack, Gertie removed bread and cheese wrapped in cloth. “With the Shara River a few leagues to the south, there’s bound to be temptation.”
“What sort of temptation?”
“Wine, silk, trinkets—not to mention black gurshee out of Esmalla,” Gertie said. “All sorts of goods make their way down the river to Gambollia. And Kron help us if Tiny stumbles across an ale barge. A drunken giant’s the last thing we need.” She rubbed her paws together. “I’ll scrape us up a bite to eat. A little food will set Mauric to rights.”
Mauric staggered to his feet. “I’ll start a fire.”
* * * *
The stars were out by the time they’d finished eating. Supper did much to restore Mauric, but he was still subdued. Stiff and achy from the long journey, Raine stretched out on the cold ground and listened to her companions discussing the next day’s journey. She glanced up at the nigh sky and stifled a gasp. The stars were wrong. A large indigo orb twinkled where the North Star should have been, and the Milky Way was gone. Most disturbing of all, there were two moons. The smaller one was missing a big chunk and hung next to its sister moon like a half-eaten apple. The sight of the unfamiliar firmament made Raine feel unaccountably lost and lonely.
I’m a stranger in a strange land, she thought. It wasn’t homesickness precisely, but she had a sudden longing to see something, anything, familiar.
After a while, Gertie pulled out a stubby pipe and packed it with tobacco. Taking a coal from the fire, she lit the pipe and inhaled. Pursing her black lips, she blew out a puff of sweet-smelling smoke.
Mauric noticed Raine’s curious stare. “Know what a troll smokes in her pipe?”
Raine shook her head.
“Any trodyn thing she wants.”
Chuckling at his own humor, Mauric rose and took a piece of canvas from one of the packs, flung the stiff cloth over a low hanging branch, and secured it with wooden pegs. Raine crawled inside the tiny tent to take a look. To her surprise, she found her aunt waiting for her inside, glowing like a candle.
“Mimsie,” Raine cried, forgetting her earlier misery.
Mauric’s booted calves appeared in the opening. “Eh?”
“Um, I said it’s not flimsy.”
To Raine’s relief, he moved away.
She wheeled around. “Oh, Mimsie, I’m so glad to see you. I’ve got so many things to tell you that I—” She faltered. “Wait. Can you understand me? I’m not speaking English.”
“Course you aren’t speaking English. We ain’t in Kansas anymore. Or any other place I’ve heard tell of, come to think of it.”
Raine smiled. “We’ve fallen down the rabbit hole, for sure.” A sudden thought occurred to her. “How’d you get here?”
“Followed you and that ginger-haired troublemaker through the mirror. Couldn’t let you go junketing around another world without me, could I?”
“Oh, Mims.”
Any seed of doubt Raine had harbored about her aunt’s trustworthiness vanished. Mimsie hadn’t poisoned her. Moved, Raine reached out to touch her aunt. To her shock, Mimsie’s flesh was cool and solid.
She received an electric shock at the contact, and yanked her hand back. “Ouch,” she said, nursing her stinging fingers. “That hurt.”
“Sorry,” Mimsie said. “I’m working on that. Now tell me. What have you been up to?”
Raine rattled off the events of the last few days while Mimsie listened with an enthralled expression on her pretty, young face.
“Brefreton says the god stone is lost,” Raine said, winding down. “Looks like I’m stuck here.”
“We’re stuck here,” Mimsie said. “I’m on you like white on rice, girl.” She shook her head. “But it’s strange goings on, for sure. How are you feeling?”
How many times in her life had Mimsie asked her that question, her searching gaze on Raine while she waited anxiously for the answer? Hundreds, no thousands of times. Raine hesitated. If she said the words out loud, would she jinx it?
“I feel better than I have in a long time,” she said cautiously. “Maybe ever.”
“That’s wonderful news, baby.” Mimsie gave a disdainful sniff. “I heard that four-legged doormat accuse me of poisoning you. The nerve.”
“You were there? I told Gertie she was wrong. My theory is lead poisoning.”
“Nope. Had you tested for that.”
Raine worried her bottom lip. “Very well. If it’s not lead poisoning, then what is it?”
“No idea. Don’t reckon it matters, so long as you’re better.”
“You’re right.” Raine sat up straight. “Hey, it seems I have a sister.”
“Stay away from Hara, baby. She’s a bad egg.”
“How do you—”
“Never mind how I know. I just do.” Mimsie reached out and stroked the fur coat. “Nice. A gift, you say?”
“Yes, from Mauric.”
“Mauric.” Mimsie gave a girlish sigh. “If I were alive, I’d hose him down and lick him dry.”
“Mimsie,” Raine said, shocked.
The ghost’s mischievous expression vanished. “Quick, before he comes back. There’s something I need to tell you. I was there the night you were left on the steps.”
“You were at the church? But you never—”
“It was late,” Mimsie said, cutting her off. “I’d gone back to Saint Mark’s to return an urn I’d borrowed from the flower guild—you know how that Norma Lou Higgins could be. Acted like she owned the damn church—and that’s when I saw her, the woman in the cloak.”
“My mother?” Raine stared at her in shock. “But why didn’t you—”
“Tell you?” Mimsie shook her head. “Because what I saw didn’t make