Over The Sea (17 page)

“I think they're lookin' for us,” Irene said, fluffing out her ponytail.

“No way,” I said. “Why?”

“I also think they're looking for us,” Sherry said, eyes wide. “They rode round and round.”

“Well, of course. No one can ride west,” Dhana said, shrugging. “So they could be scouting, like CJ says, or just riding around to get away from Mumsie.”

“Yes, that makes plenty of sense,” Seshe said.

“But looking for us? Nah! Last time they were here they didn't even see us!”

“They saw lots of seed-pods, though.” Faline chortled. “Wouldn't it be fun to make 'em think trees were throwing pods at them?”

We all laughed, and started speculating on what stupidity brought them. But the thought of PJ nosing around like he owned the woods made me boil.

“Tomorrow, let's all go out,” I said. “And if we see 'em, follow 'em. Find out what they're up to.”

“We don't have horses, though.”

And only I had the ring for calling Hreealdar. I said, “Let's get some sort of signal, then, and as soon as I find you I'll call Hreealdar. Okay?”

The girls nodded, or shrugged. We talked on a little about setting up signals, and how to pass them back and forth, none of which I need to report in the records since it all turned out to be unnecessary — as we were to discover was typical of most of our plans. Well. Mine.

We went out in pairs. I was walking with Irene, who was in one of her Moods.

“Of course it means I'm just dying to get married,” Irene stated, flinging her hands wide. “Kisses! Googly talk!” Her hands fluttered like demented butterflies. “
Just
because a girl happens to have a taste for pretty clothes?”

It wasn't a real question, of course, but I said, “Humph!” anyway.

Irene heaved a groaning sigh. “So I like to wrap my hair in rags once in a while, to get some curl. Oh no! Danger! It means next day we'll
all
be grown up, and flirting with ... with PJ!”

I snorted a laugh.

“Well, that's the way
some people
act.”

‘Some people' had been, as usual, Dhana, who also had Moods. Dhana's Moods turned sour when it was hot and dry outside — and other times for reasons none of us as yet could parse.

“That's what ‘some people' say when they get snappy. But you're never snappy, oh no,” I said. “Nosiree bob, you're much too swee-eet and de
mure
and oh so quiet and shy! Maidenly, that's it!”

Irene rolled her eyes.

“And if you're maidenly, stands to reason you'll never get married, right?” I pointed out. “Now if you were acting madamly ...”

Irene snickered. And having snickered, couldn't hold onto the Mood.

“Well ‘some people' might think I'm a perfect example of just that!” She had to get in that one last try, of course.

“‘Some people' being such experts on how married people act,” I pointed out.

Another snicker.

“I tell you what I find barfacious,” I said, sensing that it was time to move on, “and that's the thought of PJ courting anybody. Peee-yew!”

“‘Pee-yew',” Irene repeated, laughing hard. “What does that mean in your old language? It has so funny a sound!”

“It didn't mean anything except this.” I held my nose. “Stinko!” I said that in English too. And then I switched back to English in my head — something getting more difficult by the day — and dug up all the slang for smells that I could remember.

Irene was still laughing when I became aware of other voices.

At first I thought I was hearing more of the girls, except the voices sounded wrong.

Irene was very still, lips parted.

“It's them,” she said, eyes wide.

“... cowards.” That voice, drawled in a distinctive surly whine, was stomach-curdlingly familiar.

Irene and I ran a little ways round some rocks, scooted under the handing branches of a gnarled old cedar, and peered down at a bend in one of the half-grown old trails that led to the main road.

“Of course they're cowards,” a big, hulking boy in purple velvet sneered. “They're just a bunch of stupid
girls
.”

“That white haired brat can't find anyone else to follow her,” another brayed in a har-dee-har-har tone.

Yok! Yok! PJ and his band of banana-brains guffawed and whinnied like that was actually wit.

“Well,” PJ said, “I'm tired of riding about while they hide in fear. We can tell Mumsie they'll never dare come back.”

“No thrashing?” That was from the single girl, a tall one with a her nose held in the air. “I still want to see a good thrashing. Teach them some manners around the Queen.”

PJ waved a hand with four rings on it. “Oh, never fear. We'll thrash them yet — ”

I turned, stunned, to face Irene. “They're talking about us.”

“Yes.”

“
Us
.”

“Yes.”

“Me! And Clair!” My amazement blitzed, faster than Dhana's and Irene's Moods, into sizzling, broiling, barbequing outrage.

I forgot about the crow-call signal. Forgot the plan, and bellowed, “
Who's
a coward, you pimple-faced porkeroo?”

“CJ?”

I didn't even hear Irene. I was too mad.

PJ and his group stopped so quickly their horses sidled and almost panicked. Vaguely I heard Irene's yell behind me, and I thought, wow, she can't do a crow at all, then I forgot her as I jammed my hands on my hips.

“What,” I demanded, “are you doing stinking up our woods without permission?”

“Permission!” the girl gasped.

“This is Mearsies Heili,” I stated, pointing at the ground. “That means it's outside of the territory you idiots usurped. And if you want to ride around and act stupid, you had better get permission.”

“From who?” PJ demanded, sending looks at his buddies.

Fleering grins made them even uglier.

I crossed my arms. My heart thumped, my knees felt watery, but all I could remember were those slurs against Clair, and that nonsense about
cowards
.

“Me,” I said. “Or Clair — the Queen, to you.”

“And if we don't?” The big one in purple spoke from the side. I turned my head, just a moment too early; he put his hand down, and gave me a big bully grin of anticipation.

Fear mixed with my rage, but I stood my ground.

“Then you,” I said, “will be sorry.”

Sharp pain sent stars across my vision. I staggered — another one, a tall skinny one wearing green, had smacked me across the back with the flat of his sword.

They'd edged their horses around me, and I was surrounded. The girl squealed shrill as tearing metal with nasty laughter, the boys yukking it up almost as loud.

I ignored their whoops and whinnies and guffaws with old practice from schoolyard bullies on Earth. Much worse was the fact that I'd let myself get surrounded, just like bully gangs did at school, only these had swords, and were on horseback. If I ran, then they'd have twice as much fun.

I felt or heard something, ducked — and the flat of a sword whizzed right past my ear. But then a poke in the back made me stumble forward. And before I could get my balance, another sword hit me in the side, knocking me sideways so I fell with a splat right in a patch of mud.

At once I was up, shaking all over, hardly able to see for the mud stinging my eyes.

Howling with laughter, they all tried to get closer in order to hit me with their swords, but their horses got in one another's way. I swung my hands to smack the blades up, my anger giving way to that terrible, sickening sensation you get when you know you're going to lose — painfully and humiliatingly.

But then one yelled “OW!” in protest.

The girl shrieked — this time not in laughter.

Irene, Diana, and Dhana ranged along the slope above.

Diana's arm came around, fast as a pitcher back on Earth. A liquid
splat!
— and an overripe plum splirched right on the purple boy's forehead. He squawked.

“Ha! Ha! Ha!” I bellowed.

In answer the creep leaned down and the sword whistled terrifyingly close, this time edge on. I ducked between two horses who tossing their heads, prancing uneasily, for now the girls were all pelting PJ's pals. Messy overripe fruit splattered all over their pretty clothes.

“My silk! My silk!” PJ whined, and he slapped his horse's sides. “Let's go hooo-ooome!”

They began to gallop off.

“Good riddance!” Irene yelled.

“We'll be back,” the creep in purple howled over his shoulder.

“Good!” Irene shouted. “Then you'll get some more!”

“
You'll
get it,” he returned, adding a nasty insult, and then they were gone.

“You okay, CJ?” Dhana cried, leaping down in two light arcs.

“Oh, sure,” I grumbled, hating myself as well as PJ.

“You can't take on a whole slew of those slobs,” Diana grinned at me. “It's crazy.”

“You shoulda heard what they said about Clair,” I mumbled, though I knew it wasn't any excuse for putting myself right into the middle of that mess. “Thanks for coming to my rescue.”

“Next time we want in on the fun,” Diana said, dark eyes narrowed.

Fun? I said nothing as we toiled back to the Junky. My first thoughts were wild ones about finding sword fighting lessons, or better, some kind of spell to make me the best fighter in the world — except new as I was to magic, I was aware there was no such spell.

The walk was long, and hot, and the mud itched. By the time we got back, I was not longer boiling, but feeling very depressed.

Irene told the others what had happened. Everyone looked at me with commiseration, and I could see they felt humiliated on my behalf. That did not make me feel the least bit better. I was supposed to be a leader. Well, I'd sure messed that up.

“We gotta get 'em good,” Faline said, smacking her hands together.

“We might start wearin' knives,” Diana said.

“What's the use? You know how to use one, but I don't,” Irene exclaimed.

“Maybe it's time to learn.”

“Nuh uh,” I said. “I mean, yes, sure. But are we ever going to win against big hulks who are good at that stuff?”

The girls had started muttering, but they fell silent now.

“I think we'd better talk to Clair,” Seshe suggested.

I shook my head. I knew what Clair was working on: big magic, to make certain the Yxubarecs couldn't come in over clouds any more, and take us by surprise. That seemed a lot more important than this stupidity with PJ.

“No. We'll take care of it ourselves.”

“I don't think Clair would like swordfights,” Seshe said slowly.

“No, I don't either,” I said. “We don't know how, there isn't anyone around to teach us, and if someone got killed, she'd feel terrible. No.” I scratched dried mud off my forehead. “I thought about it, walking back. Oh, maybe it'd be good to learn how to handle weapons, but it's not fighting we got to do, it's imagination.”

“What?”

Everyone looked at me. How characteristic their faces were! Dhana skeptical, Irene hands on hips, Faline hopeful that something fun was somehow going to emerge, Sherry puzzled, Seshe worried, Diana glowering.

“Imagination. Just a sec.” I ran to the cleaning frame that we all shared, jumped through, and with the itchy mud all gone I ran back again. “All right. What we don't have are swords, but we do have imagination — and magic.”

“And?” Irene said.

“Did you hear PJ right before they left?”

“He was whining about something.”

“His silken outfit.”

Irene pretended to shudder. “You'd think that someone who'd gotten stuck with crimson silk with black dots embroidered on it, and orange fringe, and yellow lace, would be glad to be rid of it.”

“I'm sure it's the latest fashion in their court,” Seshe said. “What's your idea?”

I grinned, remembering one of the few TV things I missed. The three guys who always managed to defeat the villains, and never with guns or fists or knives.

“War ... to the pie,” I said, rubbing my hands.

They were just as eager for a rematch as we were, and the very next morning not only brought them back, but more of them.

It was obvious that they'd held a powwow just as we had. Their idea was to come in battle tunics (beautifully embroidered ones — PJ's with so many jewels it hurt the eyes to look at them in the bright morning sun) and a slew of their servants as well, all of these armed with thin canes made of yew.

“Look at that! They don't let their servants carry swords,” Irene pointed out.

We were in trees overlooking one of the bends in the main road, knowing that of course they'd come this way. We'd been there about half an hour, which meant they'd left about the same time we had.

“No,” Seshe said in a sober voice. “It means their idea is to have the servants thrash us, while they look on and laugh.”

“That's funny?” Sherry asked. “Sounds just mean!”

“Well, it's meant to be a terrible insult,” Seshe said. “You only beat your equals in rank. You have servants beat people of lower rank.”

“Rank shmank.” I counted them up, and mentally reviewed the plan. No ignoring the plan and splatting stupidly out alone for me today. I'd also spent the night preparing. “Any of it is disgusting! Not to mention hurts, whoever is doing the smacking. But those extra twits are just more of 'em for us to splat.”

Faline snickered.

“Ready?” Diana turned to me.

“Go.”

Diana and Irene swung down from trees on either side of the road.

“Go home,” Diana yelled.

“Scram,” Irene shouted, waving her arms. Not that PJ and his gang would know what
scram
meant. Irene had learned it from me, and she adored the sound of it.