The Missing Link (8 page)

"I makes ye a promise to find out brew's answer, and I keeps it. Westhillers never break
a promise. I still not be strong enough to magic up a way to listen in, but this'll work, fine. We jest
have to sit quite like. It be so dark that none will even know we be here, 'specialy if we cover
ourselfs up. Jest pull another barrel close, Carole, then we be in the perfect hiding place."

Carole was about to argue further when Cleopatra growled a quiet warning. "Who's
coming?"

"Quick multitasker, get the barrel. If Herling finds us here, we be skinned alive."

Carole dragged the empty cask next to Mariat, squeezed behind, and drew the canvas
overtop, just as the door creaked open.

"Lay low, Cleo," Mariat breathed, as a furry body snaked between the girls. A moment
later, someone shuffled inside.

Carole peered through a small rent in the canvas. Professor Philamount and Head witch
Herling were staring into the cauldron by the light of a small oil lamp.

Herling sniffed at the bubbling mixture and croaked, "Tis time. Looks to be a good batch,
Philamount. Cast yer question."

Melodious Philamount poured black powder from a small pouch onto the palm of his
hand. He leaned forward and cast the powder into the vat. Both he and Herling backed quickly
away. Almost immediately, the concoction began to hiss and bubble.

"Gets ready," Herling warned as she doused the light. "This looks to be a riled up answer
fer sure."

A thick column of fluorescent mist exploded from the vat, pancaked into the rafters and
fanned out across the ceiling. Tiny tongues of lightning flashed within the cloud, illuminating
swirling shapes and colors. Soft thunder rumbled, followed by whispering sounds. The thunder
faded, but the whispers grew louder until Carole could hear a chorus of chanting voices:

Two were as one when before shone the sun.
One became two,
in numbers they grew.
One held the high, two sought the low,
fixing their
form in order to grow.
Through ages of battle Conundrum was
cast,
Sylphwood was key to future that's past.
Fates are uncertain, but Hub
witch can view,
if two becomes one, or one becomes two!

The chant repeated over and over until the voices and the mist simply faded away,
leaving the shack deathly quiet. Carole committed the words to memory, though she doubted she
could forget the haunting dirge even if she tried.

"There be yer answer Philamount," Herling said into the silence. "Answer, and a
prophecy, and a riddle all tied together."

"Indeed," Professor Philamount said. "Most unsettling."

"Ye bin right 'bout the Conundrum and Sylphwood, all along. They be bound
together."

"I always felt it was so. But it seems we have been presented with even deeper
mysteries."

"Ye bin wise to keep her abilities a secret. Want us to house her here fer awhile? Might
be a bit safer."

"To do so might tip our hand. This excursion was believable, given Miss Sylphwood's
planned get-together with her witchling friend, and my business with you. But to linger further
would certainly raise suspicions."

"Truth be in that," Herling said.

"We must return this evening as prearranged, and allow events to unfold as they
will."

Herling poured a bucket of water over the coals, extinguishing the brew fire and
plunging the shack into total darkness. She struck a match and relit her lantern. "Best we get back
to the celebration, then. Ye need to put some meat on yer bones, anyway. Ye look more specterish
each time ye calls." She shuffled over to the door and led the Hub instructor into the night.

"Wow! What ye makes of all that, Carole?" Mariat said, after Philamount and Herling had
gone.

"Don't know, but we'd better get you back to bed before anyone realizes you've skipped
out."

"I be fine. Jest help me to my broom."

"Want me to glide beside you?" Carole said, once they were outside, breathing fresh air
again.

"Pshaw! I bin flying since before I could walk." Mariat motioned for Cleopatra to hop
onto the bristles, and the two of them zipped into the sky. "We be waiting fer ye at Brunstice's
cottage, slow poke," she called over her shoulder.

Grinning to herself, Carole leapt to the cottage to await Mariat's arrival. A minute later,
the witchling stepped through the doorway and did a double take. "What kept you?"

"Able to jump 'tween places in the same realm, eh?" Mariat said as she quickly
recovered her composure.

"Just learned."

"Much faster than a broom."

"But not nearly as fun. Come on, you don't look so good. I'll help you to bed."

Shrugging off the offer, Mariat walked nonchalantly to her cot but once there sat
gingerly, exhaling slowly as she did so. Cleopatra followed, settling beside the witchling.

"You'd better have some more soup," Carole said. Mariat grimaced but didn't resist as
Carole passed her a bowl.

"So what ye be thinking 'bout the brew's reading?"

"Not sure."

Mariat reached into her dress and pulled out a folded piece of parchment. "I copied this
fer ye." She held the paper out to Carole. "It not be real neat. Still, I got ye the reading, like I
promised."

"Yes you did." Carole examined the scribbles.

"Ye bin right 'bout Philamount, too. He be keeping close eyes on ye. Probable something
to do with the 'battle of ages'."

"Through the ages," Carole corrected. "'Through ages of battle, Conundrum was
cast.'"

"Who be battling?"

"I suppose it could mean the Terrible Tiff. That was sort of a battle between two
professors, though it more a battle of words."

"That be a problem with the brew's answers. Often ye get answers, but jest as often get
more questions."

At that moment the cottage door swung open and Lucreta stepped in with a plate full of
goodies. "Thought I best make sure ye not getting into mischief, witchling."

Mariat shot Carole a quick look.

Lucreta gasped. "I saw that. Barely able to breath and still getting into trouble. Spit it
out. What have ye two been up to?"

"Nothing."

"Should I ask Cleo, then?"

"No!"

"Then out with it."

"We jest checked out the brew shack, quick like," Mariat admitted. "Carole be curious as
to Philamount's meddling."

"The brew shack? Ye be crazy, walking all that way."

"I took my broom."

"That be even worse. 'Sides, the brew be no business of yers."

"It be Carole's business. Philamount be asking his questions 'bout Carole and the
Conundrum. It be all 'bout her. She had the right to know."

"Be that so?" Lucreta asked Carole.

"Uh huh."

"What be said? I swear not to tell any other."

Carole handed over the parchment.

Lucreta screwed up her eyes as she tried to decipher Mariat's scrawl.

"Ye be in it deep, Sylphwood," Mariat said, whilst Lucreta was reading. "But we be here
to help. Ye need help, jest come to us."

"Ye be no good to anybody if yer belly splits open, witchling." Lucreta scolded. "Did ye
tell her 'bout the party yet, Carole?"

"I haven't had time."

"What?" Mariat demanded.

"Lucreta graduated. She gets her own cottage."

"That be great for her." Mariat smiled, but it seemed forced. "No longer has to put up
with sourpuss witchlings."

"'Cepting maybe one," Lucreta lamented.

"Which one be that?"

"The one she'll be rooming with." Carole said.

"What be ye two babbling 'bout? Lucreta gets her own cottage."

"Seems Lucreta's not the only one who graduated. You've been promoted, too."

"So I get Lucreta's room, next to five sourpusses. I always knew that I be moved down
when the new witchlings arrived."

"Not quite."

"What ye be saying, Carole? I still have to live upstairs with those new whelps?"

"What do you think, Lucreta, should we put her out of her misery?"

"She do look to be one miserable witchling, Carole."

"Come on ye two. Tell me!"

"You and Lucreta are sharing a cottage together."

Mariat gasped. "That be true? I get to live in a whole cottage? Ye want to share with
me?"

"If ye want it."

"Ohhh... That means I go from living next to five sourpuss witchlings, to living with one
flower-stink-loving witch. What a life."

"Why ye little ghoul." Lucreta grabbed Mariat by the collar.

"Careful of me belly. I be yer patient, remember?"

"Not after I kills ye."

"Okay, okay. I be nice. I stay in bed and listen to ye." Mariat grabbed the plate of treats
and placed it on her lap. "See, I accept yer goodies, gracious like. Hey, did all the young'un
witchlings get accepted?"

Lucreta released Mariat. "The entire batch, though one got a good scare when her kitten
played a snootish prank on her."

"The Brutus look-a-like kitten?"

"That be the one, though Herling gave him what fer."

"That kitten be a trouble-maker," Mariat said.

"No surprise ye figure that out. One trouble maker always knows another."

Mariat snorted and stifled a yawn.

"Time to sleep, witchling," Lucreta ordered.

"I not be tired."

"Ye not be yawning, either. Eats yer goodies later. To bed with ya."

"Okay, okay." Mariat passed the plate to Carole and eased herself down.

"I'd best be saying goodbye, Mariat. You heard what Philamount said. We're leaving
tonight."

"Yeah. He not be wanting Conundrum types to get suspicious." Mariat yawned again. "Ye
come back before winter snows fly."

"No promises. I've still got a bunch of things to figure out."

"All right, multitasker. Bin a great visit this time arount, even if we got blowed-up a
little..." Mariat's eyes fluttered and she drifted off.

"Come and get me, if she be even a little bit of trouble, Cleo," Lucreta directed.

The cat blinked knowingly.

"Let's go, Carole. Mariat needs plenty of sleep that heals."

A warm gust of air brushed Carole's cheek as she stepped from the transdimensional
tunnel onto the dew-laden field. She looked around as she heard the soft sigh of the tunnel
collapsing behind her. The only thing visible was the Nightshade connector sticking out of the
ground like an off-kilter barbershop pole. Relaxing her focus, she activated her subtle sight and
watched a kaleidoscopic ribbon of light bubble out of the connector. The light from the collapsed
tunnel wrapped around the pole a number of times before corkscrewing off into the evening
sky.

No one else could see the transdimensional tunnels. They were invisible to other
multitaskers, and as far as she could tell, had always been invisible. Special tools, detectors and
connectors were required to find, activate and repair them.

The sky overhead was diamond studded black velvet. Carole altered her gaze just a little
and watched the heavens come alive with the pulses of thousands of rainbow streamers. The scene
was absolutely breathtaking, totally mesmerizing, and yet it was a scene she couldn't share with her
friends, Runt or even Professor Philamount.

"Do not dawdle Miss Sylphwood." Professor Philamount's voice cut through her reverie.
"It is late and tomorrow is a full day. Off you go. Home to bed."

"All right." Carole stomped towards the Rim, the narrow path bordering the connector
field, and sped off. It wasn't as if she hadn't a good reason to be angry with the man. She had wasted
the rest of the evening waiting for him to talk about the reading, which he hadn't. Melodious T.
Philamount had remained close-lipped and stone-faced through the entire party.

She raced along the circular path, not slowing until she reached a wide, cobblestone lane
called the Northway. There were four such lanes neatly quartering the community. Each began at
the Celestial Nexus, the solitary mountain rising from the center of the Hub, and ended at the Rim. It
was another of the bizarre contradictions about the place. Multitasking was supposed to be about
flexibility, and yet the community had been laid out with rigid, geometric precision. She started
down the dark lane.

The residential district seemed totally deserted. Still she glided warily, checking side
paths and skirting around the bizarre street lamps that sporadically illuminated the lane. As she
approached her own Trickleberry Trail, Carole saw a shadow of movement across the intersection.
She was about to duck off the road when she heard a familiar click-whirring sound coming up from
behind.

A Bobber Light! One of those floating spotlights that patrolled the lanes, and turned on
at the slightest detection of motion. Carole froze.

Whoever was up ahead must not have heard, for the shadowy figures continued into the
intersection. The Bobber Light buzzed past Carole, and moments later the intersection flared under
its blinding spotlight. With cries of pained surprise, two men jumped back from the powerful light
and ran off.

The Bobber Light gave chase, doggedly keeping up to light their way. Carole watched
until the men were just specks in the distance, thinking that this was the first time she was actually
grateful for the appearance of one of those roving spotlights.

Instead of turning for home, she continued south to Middletown Road and doubled back
to the Eastway, which she took to Hub Central. The Devilles' small cottage was behind the school,
sandwiched between the playing field and the bordering forest. Lights were still on. Carole rapped
quietly on the front door and slipped inside.

A girl close to her age and size, jumped up from a chair. "Carole. Didn't expect you
tonight."

"Just got back."

"Hey Sylphwood." Lilly's twin brother, Zack, looked up from where he was lounging.
"Got any--" He gawked as Carole stepped out of the shadowy hall and into the room. "Holy moly,
what happened to your face?"

"Oh that." Carole pressed her cheeks. "Mariat tried out my whistle wand and the spell
sort of blew up on us."