Duke Grandfather- The Whole Story

by James Maxstadt

  I should have known. Our “partnership”, for lack of a better word, only lasted long enough for him to find out what he needed. Well, that was good with me. If the broom took off again, I had the globe, not him, and this time, I’d use it myself.

  But for the moment, I ran after him, trying to keep one eye on the broom at the same time. It was sweeping along, but showed no signs of leaving the area it was in. Then, I saw what Raven did. It passed by the foot of a statue, and it took me a moment to realize where I had seen it.

  The broom returned to Patriot’s Circle, obviously feeling the need to finish the job it started the day before. Now that I knew where it was, I didn’t need to keep glancing at the orb as much, so I doubled my efforts, and caught up with Raven.

  “It’s a race now,” I panted as we sprinted through the streets.

  He didn’t respond, but snarled at me. I wasted a little more breath with a quick laugh, and concentrated on trying to keep up with him.

  We rounded the corner and entered Patriot’s Circle at the same time, finding the broom right where I thought, sweeping up piles of dust, and moving them from one area to another. The circle did look clean; I had to give it that.

  Now the question was how to catch the thing. I obviously couldn’t grab it, or I’d be pummeled and covered in horse shit like Raven. He had tried a magic net, which had backfired horribly on him. I couldn’t use my gun, since it needed to be returned whole. For a moment, I thought about going home and getting Petal. If anything could defeat the magic of a witch’s broom, it was a Brownie. But no one knew they were living in my basement, and besides, I didn’t want to leave Raven here alone.

  The one saving grace was that he seemed to be as stuck for ideas as I was. He watched the broom, arms crossed, a scowl on his face. But he wasn’t making any moves in its direction.

  I kept considering my options, and watched the broom go about its business, sweeping up and moving around the Circle. A thought occurred to me, but how to make it happen was still a problem.

  A broom was only as good as its rushes. If those rushes were burnt, or cut, or damaged, it wasn’t much good as a broom anymore. But I couldn’t destroy the rushes, since that wouldn’t be returning the broom unharmed. But what if I simply took them off the handle? What if, instead of destroying them, I simply cut the cord that bound the rushes together?

  It sounded like a simple solution, if it worked. But how would I get close enough to do it?

  Looking around, I saw the answer, or at least hoped I did. All over Capital City, work is being done to accommodate all the new arrivals who flock here day after day. Buildings are being torn down and replaced with new, or being renovated and updated with all the most modern conveniences. Patriot’s Circle, which was a desirable area, was no exception.

  I ran to a bunch of supplies that were piled near one building and looked it over. Sure enough, there was a length of rope coiled there. I grabbed it and ran back to the fountain. I tied it around one of the statues and pulled on it, making sure it was tight. I made a loop from the other end, and finding one of the few areas that the broom hadn’t swept clean yet, placed it there.

  “Clever,” Raven said, watching what I was doing, but making no move to interfere.

  Then I simply needed to wait. Soon enough the broom started sweeping that section, and when it swept its way into the loop of rope, I pounced. I grabbed the rope, and gave it a yank, only to have it slide right under the rushes and close on nothing but air. The broom continued on its way undisturbed.

  “Or maybe not,” Raven said.

  “Shut up,” I said under my breath, standing there holding the rope.

  Well, there was more than one way to skin a broom, as they say. Instead of letting the broom come to the rope, I’d have to bring the rope to the broom. I casually walked toward it, holding the loop open. The broom ignored me, continuing on with its busy work.

  I leapt forward and cast the loop over the top of the broom. It learned from the net, and rather than wait to be grabbed, this time it shot into the air as soon as the rope touched it, which worked to my advantage. I held on for dear life, pulling the loop tight around it, and being dragged across the Circle. Like Raven, there was no way that I would be able to hold the broom onto the ground, but unlike him, I had it anchored.

  The broom sped away, hit the end of the line and stopped with what have been a neck snapping jerk for anything that actually had a neck. Then it went berserk. It started bucking and twisting in the air, flying in loops and rolls, all the time tangling the rope more and more around itself. I pulled on the rope as hard as I could, but it was like trying to play tug of war with a troll.

  The broom started to drop toward me, fighting like mad. I glanced back and saw that Raven grabbed the rope and was pulling also. The two of us dragged the broom closer, inch by inch, panting and cursing. Suddenly, it reversed direction and dove into the bowl of the fountain overhead, spinning and thrashing. Water flew out of the fountain soaking both of us to the skin, but we pulled all the harder.

  The broom was pulled to the edge of the bowl; the rope tangled around it tightly and it tipped over and fell to the ground. I pounced on it, wrestling with it and trying to draw my knife at the same time. Raven fell on it too, and it went quiet beneath us, as if it knew it was defeated.

  I managed to get the tip of my knife between the coils of rope, find the cord that held the rushes to the handle, and cut it. The effect was immediate.

  Any movement from the broom ceased, and the arms snapped back, flowing back down into the handle from where they came. The rushes fell off, and then we were holding on to a stick that was wrapped in rope, with a bunch of straw under it.

  Panting, we both sat up.

  “You win,” Raven said, not really looking at me. “I wouldn’t have thought of the rope trick.”

  He got up, dusted himself off, and started to walk away.

  “This time,” he said, not looking back at me. “But don’t get used to it. You’re too old, Grandfather.”

  He walked away without another word, leaving me the mess. I slid the broom handle out of the rope, gathered up the rushes and the cut cord, and made my way back to the Witch’s Kettle, with plenty of time to spare.

  When I returned, the Council was still set up and the mood was solemn as I entered. I walked to the front and presented the pieces of the broom to the Exalted One.

  “You were supposed to return it undamaged,” she reminded me.

  “Yeah, well, this is as good as it gets. It’s not really damaged, anyway. Tie the rushes back on, and it’s as good as new.”

  She glared at me.

  “Well,” she finally said, “it appears we have a winner after all…”

  At that point, she was interrupted. I knew it. I knew I wasn’t going to be rid of him that easily.

  “Excuse me,” Raven’s voice came from the door. “But what if he is only returning part of the broom? Does that mean she’s only partly innocent?”

  “What are you talking about, Raven?” I sighed.

  In answer, he held out his hand. There, he held a small bundle of rushes which he gathered up in the confusion. I should have known he was up to something when he left the scene that quickly.

  The Exalted One stared daggers at me.

  “Are you trying to deceive this Council?”

  She turned to the gathered witches and asked, “Shall there be punishment rendered?”

  The witches all cried out, “Yes!” and the Exalted One turned back to me, eyes shining.

  “Prepare yourself,” she intoned, and glanced at Raven. “Both of you.”

  She raised her hands toward the ceiling and all around us the other witches did the same.

  The air crackled with energy.

  I braced myself, wishing that Lilly was here.

  Then the Exalted One gave a great snort of suppressed laughter, and lowered her hands. The other witches burst out into peals of glee and glasses were raised and clinked. There was a c
all of, “To Camelia, this year’s winner!” and a general toast in her direction.

  Camelia stood, basking in the praise, blushing. Someone pressed a mug of ale into my hand. I stood shocked, as the witches all fell back into full party mode. The Exalted One walked over to me, tears of mirth flowing from her eyes. As she came near, another witch handed her a cup of wine and said, “Wonderful job, Minerva! Or should I say, ‘Oh, Exalted One,’” and walked off cackling like a loon.

  “I don’t understand,” I said to Minerva.

  “We weren’t lying about the contest, boys,” she said to both Raven and I. “But it wasn’t between you two. It was between Camelia and Rosalind over there to see who could provide the best entertainment. It’s a yearly thing…kind of a tradition. Next year, Camelia gets to be the Exalted One.”

  “So that means…” I said

  “Yep. I won it last year!”

  Raven glared at the witch, swore loudly and dashed his mug of ale to the floor. He stormed off with a dramatic flair of his cape.

  I shrugged. Waste of good ale if you ask me.

  “I’m assuming most of the magic users in the city know about this?” I asked, thinking of Gulston’s muffled laugh as we left his lab.

  “Oh yes,” Minerva said. “It’s become quite the event.”

  I pondered.

  “I don’t suppose you know if a certain necromancer knew?”

  “She did,” Minerva smiled. “But she couldn’t say anything. Professional courtesy and all. But cheer up, Mr. Grandfather! Having the well wishes of several witches is not a bad thing. And many of us noted how you went out of your way to help Camelia, even though you didn’t have to. That’s not something we forget easily.”

  I considered that as well. It was all an act. The wayward broom, the Council, the contest, the flirting. That was when I looked over at Camelia and saw her wink at me, and erupt all over again into peals of laughter.

  My darling and I were going to have a good long talk this evening, but in the meantime, that ale was pretty damned good.

  INTERLUDE 8

  The young man laughed when his grandfather finished the story.

  “You were totally taken in by the witches?”

  “I fell for it hook, line and sinker. Never doubted the story for a second.”

  “And Grandmother knew?”

  “Well…it’s not like she was in on the planning or anything. She knew, like most other spell casters did, that the witches did this sort of thing once a year or so. When I told her about the run-away broom, and about that Camelia’s, um…attentions, well, then she had an idea of what was going on.”

  “I love it! I can’t believe she didn’t tell you, but way to go, Grandmother!”

  Duke smiled at his grandson’s enthusiasm.

  “We were young, and just starting out. I loved her already, but she still had her obligations to her fellow magic users. I understood that.”

  “Well, I think it’s a great story, Granddad. Thanks for telling it to me.”

  “You’re welcome. But now, I’m getting tired. Time for you to get me a mug of ale and then get home before your mother gets upset.”

  The young man bounced to his feet, still wearing a huge grin.

  “I’ll be back tomorrow. I can come early, if that’s okay. I don’t have to work, so if you want, I’ll bring breakfast over for you and Grandmother, and then you can tell me another.”

  “That will be great. But how many more do you need?”

  “As many as you have, Granddad. Besides, you still haven’t told me about…”

  “I know, I know,” Duke interrupted. “That’s a story for another time.”

  His grandson left, and as usual, Lilly came from the kitchen and sat near her husband.

  “Hmmpf. I don’t remember you being so understanding when we first talked after the broom fiasco.”

  Duke laughed.

  “My feelings were hurt. Here’s this woman that I was madly in love with, and she didn’t even tell me I was being made a fool of.”

  “If I told you every time you were being a fool, we’d never talk of anything else, Duke Grandfather.”

  He smiled as she said this, and after a moment, she returned it, rose from her chair and sat on her husband’s lap, laying her head on his shoulder.

  “I guess I should have said something,” she said.

  “No, you were right. There was no harm being done me, and they were right after all. It wasn’t a bad thing to have the witches look well upon me.”

  “And you weren’t madly in love with me. Not yet.”

  “Indeed I was,” he said, hugging her firmly. “I was then, and I am now. Come on Mrs. Grandfather. We’ll go to bed and I’ll show you.”

  “You old scamp,” she said, but climbed to her feet, and held out her hand to him.

  The next morning, the young man brought breakfast as he promised. When they had eaten, he offered to clean up, but his grandmother told him that she would do it, and that he should go with his grandfather.

  To the young man’s surprise, his grandfather wasn’t in his chair near the hearth. He was near the door, putting his cloak on instead.

  “Are we visiting another old friend today?” the young man asked.

  “No, we’re going to go sit out in the sun. Let it warm my old bones.”

  Outside, the sun was shining brightly, but didn’t lend much warmth to the brisk air. They took seats on a bench against the wall, and the young man shivered.

  “It’s chilly, Granddad. Wouldn’t you be warmer in near the fire?”

  “I’m sure I would be. But some stories are better told in the bright daylight.”

  “That sounds ominous.”

  “I don’t know if it is, or isn’t. But when I tell you these stories, I re-live them. And for this one, I’d rather re-live it out here, where it’s bright.”

  The young man was surprised. He never heard his grandfather speak like this before.

  “I’m ready,” he said.

  “I hope I am,” Duke said. “No matter. Here we go.”

  WINGED TERROR

  “Hey, Sarge,” I said as I walked into the watchhouse.

  “Duke,” he replied. “Interesting reading today.”

  Well, that was new. Usually Sarge greeted me, made a comment about my relationship with Lilly, or asked if I was actually working, and turned back to his newssheets. Today, he must have found something really worth reading if he was going to share it with me.

  “What’s up?” I asked.

  “Look at this.”

  He pointed to a column.

  “Winged Terror Terrorizes Tender Toddler,” I read. Wow.

  But when you got past the hokey headline, the story was actually quite chilling.

  It turned out that a young child, Robbie Chandler, was playing in front of his family’s home on Silver Tree Road. As I’ve mentioned before, Silver Tree Road is very hoity toity. Your money has to have money to afford a place there.

  Anyway, young Robbie was playing outside yesterday evening when his mother suddenly heard him screaming. She dropped what she was doing and ran outside, only to find no sign of him. He screamed again, and that’s when she looked up, only to see Robbie’s little feet rapidly disappearing into the sky. He was already past the second floor of their house, and quickly passing the third.

  A mother’s protective instinct must have kicked in, because she picked up the nearest thing that she could find, which happened to be a toy cart and horse of Robbie’s, and hurled it at the shape that was pulling her baby boy into the air. It was made of iron, and when it connected, according to Mrs. Chandler, there was a loud screech, and Robbie dropped to the ground. He had a few broken bones, and was woozy, but considering that he was literally being carried away, that wasn’t so bad.

  “Geesh,” I said, sliding the newssheet back to Sarge. “That’s pretty weird. What’s going to try to carry away a kid?”

  “I have no clue. Possibly a dragon, but the mom was
sure going to know it, and it wouldn’t have been bothered by a thrown toy.”

  “No, it wouldn’t have,” I said.

  Dragons are the real deal. Not only would the mom have recognized one, but half the city would have seen it. They can be sneaky, but one carrying a child away would certainly draw attention.

  “Yeah, well, thought you might want to see that. Kind of strange. What are you here for? Work, or your much better half tolerating you today?”

  Ah, there it was. I could always count on Sarge.

  “As a matter of fact, I’m taking my much better half to lunch today. I’m still flush from the last job, but I’m sure I’ll be back in here before too much longer.”

  Sarge glanced around and motioned me to come closer.

  “Look, Duke,” he said. “I probably shouldn’t be telling you this, but you might not want to wait too long. Things are changing.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Haven’t you noticed? No, I suppose you probably wouldn’t. You were bad enough before Lilly turned your brains to mush. The Board is getting more and more sparse these days. Ever since you started making noise about only the guilty being put on it.”

  I looked over at the Board and saw what he meant. There were only two notices on it today, and now that I thought about it, that was the case the last several times I looked. It used to be full of nuisances that needed to be taken care of, but now, if there were more than two it was a busy day. And further than that, I didn’t see nearly as many Nuisance Men around either. Unless you count Raven, which I don’t.

  “Huh, I can’t believe I hadn’t noticed that. I guess I thought it was only on the days I came in, but if it’s all the time…what’s going on?”

  “Like I said. Ever since you started your crusade.”

  “Not my crusade,” I said. “Talk to the NHLF. They started it.”

  “Whatever the case, it wouldn’t surprise me if the whole system gets shut down. There’s not too many of you left that don’t adhere to the new way of things, but those few are getting a lot of attention.”