Mearsies Heili Bounces Back (6 page)

“Are you playing, Clair?” I asked.

“Yes—if that appointment I told you about doesn’t happen.”

No help there, but I forced a big grin. Now we’d be ten, and
sure enough, it wasn’t just Diana giving me the hairy eyeball. Irene had just
made the mental count too, for she said to Puddlenose in a sugary voice, “You
like climbing trees?”

“I haven’t done much of it. You know that from my last
visit.” He laughed. “But it’s been fun the times I’ve tried.”

Irene slithered a look my way, then Diana’s, and I knew she
was thinking about who the teams would be. Then Dhana started giving us the
fish-eye.

I would swear Clair hadn’t looked at any of us, but she
said, “How about this? Puddlenose and I will be on one team. Diana, will you
join us? Gwen ... and Sherry?”

I was more relieved than disappointed. So much for my
sneakily planning the perfect team for this game, which would have been Diana,
me, Seshe, Dhana, and Gwen—who’s small but very, very good at fast climbing
when she’s determined. Only I wouldn’t have gotten Diana anyway, as she was
behind the PJ/Fobo plan. Now I didn’t care which stake anyone picked, which was
lucky, because Puddlenose instantly voted for the PJ/Fobo thing, and Gwen
changed her mind, voting for it, too.

Then she said, “Puddlenose, you have to come down to the
Junky, and see your new room!”

“You made me a room?” His eyes widened.

Here was a palace cram-packed with rooms. So many rooms
nobody could count them. But he was happy that we made him an extra hole in the
ground—and Clair was excited to show him. Weird, I thought, as we all zapped
downstairs.

For a short time there was just noise as everybody talked at
once, some telling Puddlenose the story of our expansion, Faline trying to cram
in the visits to the Dudly Duo, and Puddlenose trying to thank everybody in
sight for his own room, even though all that was in it so far was a bed and a
trunk for clothes.

“The ceiling is high enough so we could get a bunk bed if
you ever want to invite a friend,” Clair said, when enough people had stopped
yapping long enough to draw breath.

“Invite a friend.” Puddlenose turned round and round. “Invite
a friend. My own room.”

We swept out again, to go back to planning the game, but I
noticed Puddlenose was kind of quiet.

o0o

We decided to start the game the next day, once we’d set up
a boundary by tying a knot of long-grass to the first limb of the trees
selected. Those wouldn’t draw attention unless you were looking for the
grass-knots, we figured.

Seshe, Dhana, and Diana volunteered to put up the boundary
that afternoon, so everyone went off to do things. I remembered Clair’s mention
of her appointment, which was some weird thing about the Magic Council, which
had headquarters halfway around the world.

She’d been brought a letter, in silver ink, supposedly from
them. It came from the Wood Guild representative who came around once a year,
an old man who never said never said much, just checked the Guild records at
the Guild Hall on the cloudtop. In fact, it had only been the last couple of
years that Clair had seen him at all.

Now, suddenly, this year he had presented himself at the
castle to say that on his next visit he would bring a Sartoran Mage Council
representative to interview Clair.

As we all broke up, Clair said, “What are you going to do?”

“I was thinking of that Mage Council person. Why this
interview with somebody all the way from Sartor?”

“Well, not Sartor,” Clair reminded me. “They are under
enchantment still, by Norsunder.”

“Yeeech.” I felt that nasty back-of-neck prickle at the
thought of Norsunder, run by powerful and ancient and evil sorcerers somewhere
outside of time. They’d managed to cut off the most famous kingdom in the
world, by some extra creepy enchantments. As soon as I’d heard about that, I’d
thought, wow, am I glad Mearsies Heili is so small that the only kind of
villains that take any interest in it are old fumblers like Kwenz, and greedy
bustle-heads like Fobo.

Was
I
wrong.

But that was way later, and this is now. Er, that is, it’s
then, when Clair and I were talking. I said, “Maybe this interview is because
you’re a new queen?”

“But why didn’t they come years ago?”

“Maybe it takes that long to get the news? I dunno.”

Clair frowned out the window as we passed into the hall. “Maybe.
I’ve been thinking about that. I mean, despite all the wonderful stuff said
about the Magic Council in the histories they can’t be very fast, or very good,
about protecting the world because Fobo cut down an entire forest without
permission of the Wood Guild, and there weren’t any consequences.”

“Right. But I’m going to practice my magic, just the same.
Because one thing for sure, I don’t trust any grownups far as I can throw ’em,
and that goes double for ones who know magic. What if they want to give us some
kind o’ magic test, or something? Glug.”

Clair went back to her magic chambers to tackle the mystery
ring and box. Puddlenose joined the three who were going to pick the border for
the tree chase. I headed for my room, but stopped when I heard a quiet step.

Gwen joined me. In the distance, Faline and Sherry hooted
and laughed—they were sliding down the grand banister again.

Gwen said, “I think we’ll get another chance for the rain
thing.”

“Okay.” I had to work hard not to show how annoyed I
was—fair was fair.

She grinned. “Don’t you see it? Puddlenose might not be good
in trees. So if he loses ... and he’s much taller than PJ ... well, when else
would we ever see him wearing one of Fobo’s dresses?”

My annoyance vanished, and I laughed all the way to my room,
then hit the books.

o0o

Next day, we gathered in the clearing that was the agreed-on
start of our boundary.

The forest isn’t all one kind of tree. It not only is a mix
in any given part, but the whole changes. It’s oakier toward the southeast, and
as the land rises toward the western border, there’s a lot more pine that grows
thick and wild. In fact, it’s
really
wild, in places dark even at noon,
and though we’d poked westward a few times, it was tough going. We’d retreat,
always talking about planning a camping trip so we could explore all the way to
the mountains.

Anyway, the boundary for our game was pretty much in the
southeast, where the trees were old, and spread out, making a wonderful living
ceiling.

Perfect for us.

We cut into two teams, and Clair unpocketed our tossing coin.
We don’t have a lot of coinage, and what we have is hammered, one at a time,
with a spell on it to keep it from being messed with. Most people either trade,
or they have letters of credit, with magical marks called sveds so you know
it’s honest, and they work kind of like checks. On one side of the coin is the
Mearsies Heili crest, or flag, with its six lilies in a stripe—one for each
province—and the three stars signifying the alliance between humans, Arusians,
and the Lake People.

On the flag, at the bottom right, is a crown, but on the
coins, the crown is on the reverse side. This crown is a picture of a real one,
a hideously ugly and uncomfortable thing that Clair hates, but wears for formal
occasions, because it has Historical Significance. (Also, because the six spiky
thingios sticking up with their golden carving and diamond tips make her look
taller.) I’m mentioning Six Stix now, because that crown ends up in one of our
biggest adventures, later on. Who could have guessed?

Anyway, we called “crown” and the other side got “flag”—Clair
tossed the coin—and it landed flag side up. That meant we had to chase.

We looked at one another, then turned to Seshe. I hate
counting, but I know we shouldn’t stick it on Seshe.

“I don’t mind.” She laughed. “It keeps me in practice.”

She has this method where she flickers fingers and toes,
which makes the count go in twenties, so she doesn’t have to do every number.
(I’ve tried, and get lost somewhere after 200.)

So she started, and Dhana watched Seshe, then turned away
when a butterfly fluttered from a shrub nearby. Dhana’s fingers fluttered,
somehow making us see a tree full of butterflies.

“I
love
hands,” she exclaimed. “They do so many
things!”

And she was off, whirling around the clearing, eyes half
closed, doing a butterfly dance while Seshe’s fingers and toes did their little
taps. Irene rolled her eyes, but before she could say anything, Faline spoke
up.

She’d been quiet, which was unusual. “We
have
to win.”
Even her freckles looked serious. “I am determined we are not going to miss the
chance to see Puddlenose wearing that Fobo gown with the giant polka-dots and
the lace bustle. It will be the funniest sight of a lifetime!”

“What’s Clair going to wear?” Irene asked. “She’d be lost in
a Fobo dress.”

“PJ’s pink-and-orange suit,” Faline declared. “She hates orange,
but she really hates pink.”

“Especially pepto-bismo pink,” I said.

They all knew that pepto-bismo pink was bright anti-barf
medicine pink, the ugliest pink of all the pinks.

“I think Fobo needs to see them, to really make it funny,”
Irene declared. “Let’s get Puddlenose a really ugly wig, and he can be a
princess from Lisalottaloony Land, like Lesa was.”

“What could be worse than one of Fobo’s own wigs?”

Seshe opened her eyes. “Fobo’ll just commend Puddlenose for
his good taste,” she said. “And make fun of him behind his back for his
terrible figure.” Her eyes closed and she went right back to her counting
rhythm.

Faline turned a handspring, her bright red braids flopping.
When she was upright, she said, “I think Seshe’s right. I bet you anything Fobo
doesn’t even remember what dresses she has, unless they’re a day old, because
she’s got so many in that closet.”

Seshe’s eyes opened again. “I know she doesn’t. When Diana
and I pretended to be maids, that time, we overheard the seamstresses
downstairs. They were deciding which gowns to take out and take apart and
remake in new combinations. Fobo thinks the gowns all new.”

Irene said, “You mean, she’s paying for new ones, but
getting old ones?”

Seshe’s eyes were closed again, but she nodded once.

“Serves her right.” Irene crossed her arms.

“I wonder if all the servants are in cahoots, stealing right
and left,” I said.

“Probably.” Faline chortled.

I scowled, wondering why it bothered me, then lit on a
reason. “They’re really stealing from Clair.”

Faline’s scowl was worse than mine. “That’s
right
!”

“Five hundred,” Seshe said. “Shall we split up?”

“No.” Faline waved her arms. “Then we bumble all over, and
some do the same places twice, and skip others. Let’s do like we patrol when
we’re looking for someone, spread in a line where we can see one another, and
go round the whole boundary, then in, smaller and smaller circles.”

Dhana landed in the middle of us, twirled around so lightly
the long grass didn’t even mash down. “Good idea.”

She leaped into the nearest tree without rustling a leaf,
leaving the rest of us to scramble, grunt, and swing our way after her.

“Okay, we’re officially in the trees,” I said. “Spread as
far as we can still see each other. I’ll stay at the boundary trees.” I added
that when I realized I was already in a boundary tree, practically sitting on
the tied cloth.

So everyone spread out to one side of me. I couldn’t see
Seshe at the far end, or Dhana, but I was able to keep Irene’s lacy sky blue top
in view, and Faline’s red hair. And I made sure all the trees between me and
them were empty of hiding kids.

Along we went, at first calling back and forth, but as the
day began to wane, and we’d only found Sherry (who was the worst at climbing)
and Diana (the best, but she picked a place that Dhana already knew, to her
disgust) we stopped babbling and started pushing harder.

That’s when we heard the noises. Rustling—voices—a crack of
laughter.

Sherry and Diana were climbing along just for fun.

“Hey, who’s cheating?” Faline bellowed. “They’re on the
ground!”

And Sherry began pegging the cheaters with pods. Pok! Pok!

Someone yelled, “Ow!” and someone else laughed.

I didn’t recognize that laugh, but one thing for sure, it
was the nasal, braying laugh of a boy more or less Puddlenose’s age. We girls
can be just as loud, but we don’t bray. Unless on purpose.

The noises stopped abruptly, then one of them said in
Chwahir, “Hey! There’s someone up there!”

Sherry thought that was funny, and cackled with laughter. I
froze. Zizzed my head to the side, to meet Faline’s bug eyes.

“It’s them,” she whispered so loud it sounded like a forest
fire.

“It’s them!” one of the clods said in Chwahir, which I could
understand because of my medallion.

We dropped out of the trees onto a knoll, where the Chwahir
boys had gathered in a clump, some of them staring up at the trees for more of
us, others looking around. For a second or two, everybody eyed everybody else.

Their uniform was the usual ill-fitting, rusty-black, sturdy
linsey-woolsey typically worn in the Shadow. Seshe insisted it wasn’t fair for
them to be stuck living in the eternal dark of the Shadowland, but wow, ol’
Kwenz sure liked black. His castle was black, his people wore black, and he’d
put that horrible spell on them so their eyes were black.

That made it difficult to see exactly who they were looking
at.

The one in the middle was a beanpole more or less
Puddlenose’s age, tall and lanky, his posture a kind of awkward capital S. His
face was long, chin slightly receding, his mouth and eyes kind of reminding me
a little of Barney Fife, this goggly-eyed guy on TV back on Earth. His hair was
black and lank, and his skin the usual pasty-pale Chwahir color that reminded
me of dead mackerels.