Mallara and Burn: On the Road (4 page)
Mallara turned, the greedy mud sucking and
pulling at her boots. But she wrenched them free and turned, just
in time to see a tall, tall pair of bony, footless legs rise up and
stride away from her, cutting narrow swaths through the fog with
each long step. Taller than the sky, thought Mallara, and a snippet
of a song sang itself in her mind. The Winter King walks the wide
world swift, back and done in one long night, his footless legs
longer than the sky is tall, his merry eyes shining bright.
The fog swirled, and Mallara had one last
glimpse of the Winter King before he took a mile-long step, and was
gone.
"Winds and fires," sputtered Burn."Did you
see that?"
Mallara nodded.
"All at once, it was behind you," said
Burn."I didn't see it coming."
"No one ever does," said Mallara, turning
back to Burn."That's part of his magic."
"It winked at me, Mistress," said Burn, and
Mallara saw his blur of air shiver."Look in your pockets."
Mallara frowned."My pockets?"
Burn bobbed and buzzed."Look in your pockets,
Mistress," he said."It seems you neglected to hang out your
hat."
Mallara let go of her black staff, which
remained upright, though it did rise up so that its foot rode just
above the mud. She then searched the wide pockets sewn into each
side of her pants, her hands encountering all the usual contents --
a handkerchief in her right pocket, and a wand, and --
-- in her left, something else.
Mallara's eyes widened. She withdrew her left
hand, and there it was -- an exquisite Phendelit dancing doll. A
dancing-doll like -- no, identical to -- the doll she'd seen once
in old Purget's shop window as a child.
Purget had never let her touch the doll, much
less hold it. But Mallara remembered staring at the doll through
the bubbled, dirty shop-front glass, knowing that she would never
have such a thing, never be such a thing. There were other dolls,
of course, but none so lovely as the Phendelit dancing-doll. It had
demure blue eyes and golden-blonde hair and it was tall and thin
and long-legged in a way that Mallara had known even then that
she'd never be.
Mallara's staff blazed suddenly with light,
and Mallara marveled for a moment at the detail of the tiny figure.
The doll had eyelashes, fine and golden. Fingers, with red painted
nails. Earrings, tiny gold hoops, which sparkled and shone in the
staff's fierce glow. There were tiny blue and gold sparkles set in
the white lace ankle-length gown, and a jeweled sash, and on the
doll's right wrist a bracelet studded with tiny diamonds set in the
spiral of a Phendelit queen.
Mallara stroked the doll's hair once with her
finger, and moved her hand away when her staff leaned in close for
a look and Burn fell to hang in the air before it.
Staff and shimmer exchanged a long
silence.
"It appears to be a doll," said Burn, after a
moment.
"It's the most beautiful thing I've ever
seen," said Mallara. She raked a hand quickly across her face, and
looked toward the hidden sky."Thank you."
Burn made a sighing noise. Then he buzzed,
and bobbed away, and Mallara knew he was peering at the sky through
the fog."What have we loosed upon the world?" he said, after a
moment.
Mallara pulled a clean handkerchief from her
right pocket, and carefully wrapped the doll in it."Something that
was there all along," she said. She spoke a Word, and a hole
appeared in the air before her, and the black staff rose up through
it and vanished. Mallara spoke again, and the hole shrank; but
before it too vanished, Mallara held up the cloth-wrapped doll, and
the black staff reached down out of the hole and took the doll
away.
"So a few children will find toys their
parents didn't put in their hats, this morning," said Mallara, when
Burn's buzzing did not abate."And perhaps a few old folks somewhere
will find firewood cut and stacked by their doors. There's a bit of
magic in the world the Council of Mages had absolutely nothing to
do with, Burn. What is the harm in that?"
"No harm at all, no harm," said Burn,
quickly. He darted in a tiny circle before Mallara."Sorry,
Mistress. I'm glad -- really I am -- that Long Legs didn't fall
with the stones. I'm also glad most people don't see him at work.
Watching bony hands drop out of the sky and slip dolls in
unsuspecting pockets is a wee bit spookier than you might
think."
Mallara smiled. Her legs and her back were
beginning to ache -- no wonder, she thought, after all that dancing
in this awful mud -- and her arms were weary from holding the black
staff. But she smiled, and shrugged."All part of the magic of
Ollow's Eve," she said.
Burn buzzed again."I'll never understand your
folk, Mistress," he said."Why do the same children who fear the
dark and any number of hairy, toothy boogey-men sit up waiting for
a skeleton with a pumpkin head?" Burn flew a tiny loop."What makes
you love some monsters, and fear others?"
Mallara heard faint music. She nearly spoke
the Word that brought her staff, but then realized that the piping
was from Toth, borne on a vagrant breeze.
"I don't know, Burn," she said, when the
music faded and died."I suppose that we love some of the monsters
because they are ours."
Burn buzzed."That was not at all
enlightening," he said, after a moment."But that's the only answer
I'm going to get tonight, isn't it?"
"I'm afraid so."
"Well," said Burn. A new wind rose up, and
whipped the steam about, and a spattering of fat raindrops fell to
hiss upon the fallen stones."Might I suggest we quit this place,
Mistress?" he asked."I'm too tired to dodge rain-drops, and I
imagine you could use a bit of sleep."
"Later, perhaps," said Mallara. She wrenched
her boots from the mud, and began a determined but noisy march out
of the center of the fallen Round."Now, though, I'd like a tall mug
of ale -- and unless I'm mistaken, they're still playing the pipes,
down in Toth."
"Promise me one thing, Mistress," said Burn,
who followed close behind.
"And what is that?" asked Mallara, as she
picked her way through the field of shattered pumpkin-shells.
"Find someone with feet to dance with, won't
you?"
Mallara laughed."I promise."
"Some sort of head would be nice too," said
Burn."Eyes with pupils, ears, hair, that sort of thing. 'Men,' I
think they're called."
Mallara laughed and wrenched her right foot
free of the greedy mud."Happy Ollow's Eve, Burn," she said."Peace
and plenty to you and yours."
Burn flew. The steam was nearly gone now, and
the wind drove what remained away, sending it streaming across the
fallen stones and the trampled ground and off into the night.
Overhead, the sky was black -- but it seemed to Burn that, just for
an instant, two red stars appeared, close set like eyes, to look
down upon him.
The stars became bright three-sided
pumpkin-eyes, and winked, and vanished.
Burn arced though the night toward Toth like
a small faint comet, and Mallara hurried after.
by Frank Tuttle
Mallara followed the Lake Road as far as the
second well-marker, turned right as the Mayor had said, and found
herself in the old Maglin apple orchard well before noon. The sun
blazed, high and alone in a flawless blue sky. Birds darted and
sang, riding a lazy breeze that smelled of honeysuckle and
bell-flower. Mallara found a patch of shade, watched the birds
wheel and the flowers sway, and forced herself to stop
trembling.
"Burn," she said. The air before her face
suddenly shimmered, blurring like the air above a hot, dry stretch
of road.
"Yes, Mistress?" said the shimmer.
"I'm being followed. How many and how
far?"
"Twelve. About a quarter of a mile back, just
beyond the poplars. It's the Mayor and his retinue. One has a
telescope. He's made three lewd remarks about your backside."
Mallara clenched her teeth and counted
silently to ten."Have you seen the villa?" she said, at last.
"I have, Lady," said Burn, no humor in his
tone."It's just as the Mayor said. Three standing walls, a huge old
marble fountain, three stunted oaks in the yard."
"And?"
"And it looks more like an Elvish painting
than a haunted house. No indications of persistent spell effects or
incorporeal entities."
"I should be relieved," said Mallara.
"You should."
"I'm not. Are you?"
"Not in the least," said Burn."I've got a bad
feeling about this, Mistress. I think yonder Mayor neglected to
mention a few things when he hired you to Cleanse the place. His
Honor and his toadies wouldn't be out strolling in the weeds unless
they were expecting a show."
Mallara glared."If it's a show they
want..."
"Save it for the spooks, Mistress," said
Burn."We may need it." The shimmer darted closer and his voice fell
to a whisper."If it'll make you feel better, though, there's a
hornet's nest about thirty paces from the loudmouth with the
telescope. I could give the bugs a jostle."
"No, Burn," said Mallara, sighing."You were
right. We are professionals. Professionals don't waste their
efforts sparring with imbeciles."
"As you wish," said Burn."Shall I scout
ahead, perhaps have another look at the villa?"
"Good idea," said Mallara."Let's get this
done." She stepped into the sunlight and squinted. Burn darted up
into the wide blue sky and was gone in an instant.
Mallara had taken three steps when a chorus
of faint screams and fainter thrashings erupted from behind the
stand of poplars.
Burn sailed by, humming contentedly."I've
learned some odd new words," he said."Perhaps you could tell me
what they mean."
"Burn!"
"On my way," said the shimmer.
Mallara hid her grin behind a glare and
marched out of the orchard. The deserted Maglin villa lay another
two hour's hike away, and with it Mallara's first real test of her
sorcerous skills -- a Cleansing. What was it Master Wesseven had
always said about Cleansings? Ah, yes --"The first one is always
the worst -- until, that is, it's time for the next one."
The old carriage track led into a shadowed
thicket of pines. Mallara took a deep breath and marched into the
darkness.
The lawn, once well-tended and flat, was a
wild place of tall meadow-grass and wild rose-bushes. A wide stone
walkway flanked by brilliant red-and-yellow fireflowers wandered
through the yard, passing beneath a trio of dead, shadeless oaks
and beside an empty, weed-choked fountain before vanishing amid the
meadow-grass.
From the center of the lawn rose the Maglin
house, its stones bleached and glaring like old bones weathered in
a desert.
Only three crumbling, leaning walls, a
shattered stump of a chimney, and a single ornate marble
door-casing remained.
Mallara gazed out over the gently waving
fireflowers and whispered a Word. The spell tangled in her fingers
leaped away toward the villa like a bolt of silent, lazy lightning.
The spell wandered among the ruins while strange shadows played in
its wake.
Mallara spoke another word. The spell coiled
upon itself, bobbed back to her, and settled in her hand,
whispering.
When the spell fell silent, Mallara closed
her hand, and the light faded and was gone.
"Well?" said Burn.
"Nothing," said Mallara."No signs of
supernatural Presence. No lingering thaumaturgic charges. No arcane
traces at all. They didn't even use kitchen magic. There was just a
single wardstone, and that fell twenty years ago."
Burn blurred, darting to steer away a
vampire-fly flapping toward Mallara's neck."No spooks," he said."No
leftover kitchen magic slamming doors in the night. No wandering
wizard careless with a trinket. What, then?"
Mallara shrugged and stretched. The sky was
darkening, blues gone to reds and blue-blacks. A bloated sun loomed
just over the black pines to the west; it would set soon, and
Mallara would be alone, except for Burn.
Mallara shivered."Let's make camp," she
said."The Mayor said the lights only show at night. Perhaps we'll
see something then."
Burn harried another vampire-fly away."As you
wish," he said."I'll check the old well again. Mind the pests,
Mistress."
Burn vanished, scattering jay-birds as he
flew.
Mallara closed her eyes, held her right hand
palm-up beside her, and whispered a Word. A pinprick of light
appeared, swelled, and became a transparent sphere as it enveloped
the sorceress.
Mallara opened her eyes. A vampire-fly
flapped toward her, met the edge of the barrier, and exploded with
a small sharp pop.
"Got you," said Mallara, as she dropped her
traveling pack to the ground. Mallara opened the pack, pulled a
small cushion from within it, and sat cross-legged upon it.
It's time, she thought. I wonder if Master
Wesseven was this frightened, when she Cleansed her first
house?
Mallara unlocked the rest of her equipment
with a Word and a wave. The pack billowed and then sagged as its
contents emerged.
"Forty minutes until sunset," said the
goblin-clock, as it settled into the grass before her.
"And then what?" asked Mallara. The clock
ignored her, so she sat quietly and watched the shadows
lengthen.
The sun sank. The breeze became a wind, a
wind that smelled of rain and deep forest and far-off lightning.
The forsaken lawn pitched and tossed, the flowers all but hidden
among the greedy weeds.
The sun disappeared. Mallara arose and sent
another pastel tangle of light into the yard. When it returned, she
sent another. Both found shadows and windswept weeds and nothing
else.
"Burn," said Mallara."Report."
