Mearsies Heili Bounces Back (31 page)

One by one the crew peeled off at important intersections to
keep watch, until only the captain and I were left. We kept peeking into rooms,
until at last we found Puddlenose, in a room filled with fancy furniture of the
sort he usually hated. His door was not locked. A very bad sign.

We slipped in, and I ran to the bed. Through the slit window
the torchlight on the other towers cast faint light. The face on the pillow was
shaped familiar: square, brown hair.

“Pssst, Puddlenose!” I whispered, shaking his shoulder. “Wake
up!”

He snorted, then sat up. “Who is that?”

“It’s CJ and Captain Heraford! We’re here to rescue you!”

“What are you doing in my room?” Puddlenose asked in a
weirdly flat voice. “Get out!”

“Come on, Puddlenose! Snap out of it!”

“I must call the guards,” he said, his tone almost
robot-like but the words sharp and nasty—utterly unlike his real self. “I must
call the guards to protect me from intruders.”

“He’s under a spell,” I said to the captain.

“What are you talking about, you stupid girl?” Puddlenose
said. “Anyone in this room but Uncle and His Majesty is an enemy ... I must
strike out against the enemy—”

“Ish! That’s
Shnit
you’re defending,” I honked,
hopping up and down. As if sheer outrage could break the spell!

Puddlenose’s answer was to take a swing at me—or where I’d
been standing. He was so slow his fist missed me by a yard. But I stumbled over
a footstool when I ducked back, and thus couldn’t stop Puddlenose, who lunged
at the door.

Captain Heraford tripped him, and though Puddlenose started
struggling wildly, he wrestled him down. Since the Captain wasn’t all that tall
or big for a man, and Puddlenose was already getting tall before he stopped
growing, there isn’t much difference between their sizes. Thus the captain was
having a tough time because he didn’t want to hurt Puddlenose, who was striking
out blindly, as hard as he could. Only the magic interfered with his abilities.

So they rolled about, the captain getting a hand around
Puddlenose’s mouth to keep him from bellowing, and keeping it there despite a
lot of kicking and pounding.

Think, think
, I told myself as I skittered out of the
way
Spell—compulsion
.

Of course—he had to be wearing something to force it onto
him. Shnit never would have gotten Puddlenose to sit still for spells to be
layered on. That didn’t mean there weren’t some spells loaded on as well, but
it was more likely that Shnit had enchanted the spells onto some object, which
was far easier. Once he managed to get the thing onto Puddlenose, wham! The
spells would hit him like math homework on Friday.

The Captain had gotten Puddlenose in a head-lock, but
Puddlenose still struggled on. “Quick,” he grunted. “Is there anything we can
do? Or am I going to have to hit him?”

I groaned, eying Puddlenose, who was wearing an
honest-to-fashion night shirt. A frilly one! He would
hate
that.

But of course it would amuse Shnit to force him into his
opposite.

... which means—”Jewelry,” I said. Puddlenose had told us he
couldn’t stand jewelry—and indeed, when we raided Lord Snord’s, he hadn’t take
any for himself. Just the sword and hat and boots.

The captain flung Puddlenose over onto his stomach, and sat
on his back, knees pinning his elbows, and with one hand mashed his face into
the carpet so he couldn’t bellow.

We checked his hands, his wrists. Nothing. No necklace—but
when Puddlenose tried to struggle again, and the captain gripped his arm, he
gave a soft exclamation.

He shifted grip on Puddlenose, bent one arm up behind him,
then pointed with his chin at that arm. “Use my knife.”

A knife hilt gleamed coldly at the top of the captain’s
boot. I pulled it out, grabbed the material of Puddlenose’s nightshirt as he
writhed and fought, and cut open the sleeve—and there was a golden snake-thing
wrapped round Puddlenose’s upper arm.

I touched it—and fell back as icy-cold nastiness streamed
through me.

“Knife,” the captain grunted, wrenching Puddlenose’s arm up
behind him in an effort to keep him still.

“No—” I protested.

“Not to stab. Pry the thing loose,” the Captain
said—grunting between words as Puddlenose did his best to fling him off.

Puddlenose howled into the carpet, his voice blessedly
muffled.

I eased the tip of the knife under the armlet, then started
to wedge the thing off, hoping not to cut his skin. Puddlenose jerked—and the
knife flew out of my hand. Greenish sparks winkled across my vision.

I scrambled for the knife.

Behind me there was a thud. And a sigh as the captain rose. “Stunned
him. Quick,” he murmured, wringing his hand. And he helped me to get the knife
under the armlet. The metal almost seemed to be fighting us, but then quite
suddenly it sprang off, hitting the wall with an unmusical clang. Puddlenose,
who’d just begun to stir, fell back in a faint.

“Shall I get it? So we don’t leave evidence?” I asked. “No,
wait—we better leave it—”

The captain nodded in approval as he wiped his hair back off
his forehead. “Let Shnit think Puddlenose got rid of it himself, and vanished.”
He sighed again. “Keep the knife. I’m going to have to carry him.”

He stood up, slung Puddlenose over his shoulder, and out we
went, Puddlenose’s arms swinging lifelessly behind the captain’s back.

The trip back seemed to take forever, but we made it: the
worst part was waiting for the middle-of-the-night patrol to change.

Once we’d done that (Puddlenose wrapped up like a giant worm
in a black cape) we slunk along the wall and out, and down to the shore, and
though by then the dawn was paling the beach, we had to risk the boat and sail
out, first with oars so it wouldn’t be spotted, and then at last the captain
had them raise the single sail. We got thoroughly drenched, and shivered in the
bitter, strong rain, but it kept us hidden from shore.

We had just gotten away from the waves and were sailing
seaward when the bells in the castle towers started clanging loud enough to
carry over the water.

“They’ve discovered he’s gone,” I exclaimed.

“Search will go out over land,” the Captain predicted. “Let’s
put some back into it—make certain they have no reason to think of the sea.”
The men rowed, to help the sail.

We bucked and plunged over huge, choppy waves for what
seemed about fifty years, me gritting my teeth as I kept watch by Puddlenose,
making sure the water sloshing over the side did not drown him.

Puddlenose started waking up halfway back along the journey
to the ship. He groaned, but the captain did not unwrap him from the cloak.
Presently he stopped moving and mumbling, and fell asleep.

When we reached the ship, they handed Puddlenose up first,
and he was stashed in the forward cabin, which had a sturdy wooden door that
could be guarded. Just in case there was still magic on him.

We all went through the cleaning frame, then got into dry
clothes. I breathed deeply of the fresh air, thinking—that is, hoping—that
getting Puddlenose away from the horrible atmosphere of Chwahirsland would help
him, since I had no access to my own magic. And even if I’d had it, I had no
idea how to break Shnit’s spells—I would need Clair’s library, if not her help.

The cook had prepared a hot, tasty soup that could simmer
until we returned, so we all sat down and ate, then I went down below to my
hammock and fell asleep.

I woke when one of the kids came to get me. “Puddlenose’s
waking up! Captain said to get you,” he reported, eyes wide with excitement.

I flipped out of my hammock and zoomed up the ladder, ran
along the companionway to the forecastle, where Captain Heraford awaited me.

He opened the cabin door and I went in first. The bunk was
built under the steep inward slant of the bow. A scuttle had been opened
overhead, letting in light and air. Puddlenose sat up in bed, looking much as
he had in Shnit’s castle—hair sticking up wildly, stupid frilly nightshirt
awry, cut down one arm—but now he was rubbing his hands over his face,
especially his eyes.

“Puddlenose?” I said.

He dropped his hands, turned his head, and squinted at me. I
guessed he had a stencherooni of a headache.

“CJ! Where did you come from? Why am I in this disgusting
thing?” He flipped his fingers through the ruffles at the front of the night
shirt.

“You’re back,” I exclaimed happily.

“I was gone? Ow, my head hurts. Oh, wait. I remember ...”

Captain Heraford came forward. “Bide easy. We’ll have some
healer tea up here in a moment, and some food.”

“And some clothes? Did I leave any behind last cruise?”
Puddlenose asked, grimacing down at himself.

“If you didn’t, you know we have the storage trunk.
Something’s bound to fit.”

“Anything but this thing!”

I snorted. “You look like an idiot.”

“Thank you. I needed to hear that.”

I grinned, then did a chicken dance supremo from pure joy.
The other two laughed, and when I stopped cackling I said, “Phew! It’s such a
relief that you are okay! We didn’t know if there were any more spells on you.
Doesn’t sound like it—unless, of course, there’s one to make you extra crabby.”

For answer he chucked the pillow at me. I dodged, picked it
up, tossed it back and whizzed out the cabin door.

A short time later Puddlenose appeared, wearing somebody’s
deck pants and an old shirt that at least didn’t have any ruffles. A bruise was
forming along the brown skin of his jaw, and he touched it gingerly, but the
first thing he said was, “Thanks, Captain. CJ.”

“Come into the cabin,” the captain said, smiling. “It’s time
for a conference.”

I said as we tramped back down the companionway aft, dodging
round sailors at work, “Before the gabble, I want to hear what happened to you,
and wow, wait until you get an earful of Kwenz’s splat of a plan for me!”

“Who first?” the captain said, turning from one of us to the
other.

Puddlenose sank onto the bench at the captain’s table. “I’m
still waiting for the listerblossom steep to clear out my head. CJ, you go
first.”

“Okay, but tell me quick, do you know what happened to
Clair?”

“I was there when she vanished, so that much I know, but not
much else.”

“At least we have that much,” I said, relieved. Then
launched into my story, and I didn’t stint on the insults, either. That is, I
didn’t say anything awful about Pralineh. Except one teeny tiny snark about all
that sewing and marriage junk. (And sure enough Puddlenose grimaced in
agreement.) I reserved my very best pocalubes for Kwenz, Rel, and Raneseh.
Especially Rel.

Puddlenose laughed in all the right places, which improved
my mood, but when I was done, I realized I still didn’t really feel better
about that disgusting mess.

“All right. I’m done. Your turn.”

“Isn’t as much to tell,” Puddlenose said. “I’d just gotten
home for a visit.”

Again, I thought. It was odd, how he did that. As if
Puddlenose had a weird sort of trouble magnet—showing up just when something
was about to happen.

Puddlenose held up a hand. “I swear I didn’t know anything.
I just wanted to relax, catch up on news. Teach Faline this new game I learned
way, way down south—nearly at the Land Bridge.”

I gritted my teeth, impatient for news about Clair.

Puddlenose flashed a grin at me. “So there I was, just
arrived. Janil saw me. Said she’d have some toasted cheese-breads with tomato
and some of that green herb she puts on ’em—”

“Basil,” I said, hopping on the deck. “Fleeb on your
sandwich! What about Clair?”

“Now, did I interrupt
your
story? Even when you kept
stopping to tell us just how ugly and stupid that Rel fellow was, in case we
hadn’t heard it the first 500 times?”

“Clair!” I demanded.

“All right, all right. She was in the library. I’d just
found her, and we were going to go back to the kitchen because as usual she’d
forgotten lunch, when—”

“So she didn’t know I was gone?”

Puddlenose crossed his arms, leaned back, and looked out the
stern windows as if he’d just seen a three-headed sloth.

I sighed loudly. “All RIGHT. No more interruptions.”

He went on. “When she jerked up—like this—and said
Unbelievable—he
did it!
Before I could ask what ‘it’ was, she grabbed the back of a chair
to steady herself and started whispering magic spells. I tried looking around
for an enemy to attack—some way to defend her—but no one was in sight. And when
I turned back, she blurred and vanished.” He made a gesture toward the deck. “Like
she dropped through the floor.”

“That’s creepy.” I kicked my toes against the edge of the
table, as if that would make anything better. But I was so desperate to get
home
.
“Maybe Kwenz’s nasty magic? Usually transfer spells are a flicker. Sometimes
light, if it’s dark where you go and the other place is light, and it kind of
blinks through. Yuk! But she didn’t fall
down
, did she? Collapse? Like
she was, um—”

“Dead?” Puddlenose said, grimacing. “No.”

I heaved another sigh. “Then I’m just going to believe she’s
okay, and that’s that. So what happened next?”

“That’s when Kwenz’s band of bullies ran in. They were
obviously looking for her, but they settled for me instead. After a short fight
they got the drop on me. I did see one of them come into the room with you over
his shoulder, snoring away. Your arms were dangling down. It looked like you
were picking his pocket. I wanted to tell Faline—she’d like that
joke—everything will be all right if you can make a joke—but there was no
Faline. Then Jilo came in, and looked at me, and said,
That’s the right one.
Then a fellow stepped on my elbow, and they put that snake thing on my arm, and
then ...” He shrugged. Whatever he’d experienced wasn’t going to get aired, I
knew from his look. “Then you two came along. So. What’s the plan?”