by Frank Hurt
The dog barked once, her greeting reverberating against the curved, steel rib walls of the Quonset.
“Oh, and Lucky too, of course,” Ember laughed. “How could I forget you?”
The big dog pushed her wet nose against the mage’s palm, leaning a shoulder into her leg.
“Gee, what could you possibly want? Am I just a treat dispenser to you?” Ember half-stumbled as the dog rubbed against her. “Okay, okay, let’s go get your mandatory biscuit.”
“We were watching for you from the forest,” Maxim said breathlessly as he pulled the heavy door open. “We saw you before you saw us.”
“From the forest, huh?” Ember paused to offer a wave at the three gentlemen before she exited the building. “That would make you two woodland elves, yeah?”
Marta skipped alongside Ember. “Did you see the puppies yet?”
“I did last weekend, remember?” Ember opened the passenger door to the pickup and reached behind the seat for the bag she kept there.
“No, did you see them today? They’re growing so fast!”
Maxim said, “they’re only twenty days old. That’s almost three weeks.”
“That’s not three weeks!” Marta protested.
“I said almost three weeks, dummy.”
Ember pulled a brown meal bone out and pointed at the children. “Okay, okay you two. No fighting or I’ll make you eat Lucky’s biscuit. Lucky would be very upset if you ate one of her biscuits.”
The dog barked.
“See? Lucky agrees with me.” Ember held the treat out. “Now wait for it…wait for it…”
Knowing the routine, the German Shepherd sat patiently. When Ember tossed the biscuit in the air, Lucky leaped up and caught it in her maw. The dog crunched noisily, swallowing the treat in seconds.
Ember placed both hands on her hips. “You don’t even taste the thing, Lucky.”
“Come on!” Marta grabbed Ember’s wrist. “You need to see the puppies!”
“I tell you what, I’ll go see them after brunch, okay?”
“Why don’t you want to see them now? Don’t you like puppies?”
Ember laughed. “You know I love puppies, you silly elf. I just need to talk to Dr. Gloria now.”
Maxim scrunched his nose. “Why do you want to talk with her? She’s always so grumpy and mean.”
Ember laughed again. “Out of the mouths of babes.”
“Huh?”
“Never mind. You can show me the puppies after brunch though, yeah?”
“And you need to see Dexter and Dee Dee,” Maxim quickly added. “And Mandrake.”
“Right. I’ll visit your calves too,” Ember chuckled.
Marta whined. “Promise?”
“I promise.”
Satisfied with her oath, the children and their dog ran toward the barn, where Lucky’s litter of pups were secured.
Ember found Gloria Rout seated in a rocking chair on the covered porch of the farmhouse. As she ascended the steps, she called out. “Hello, Dr. Rout.”
The old Malvern woman tapped the cedar deck with her cane. She grumbled, “oh sure, I was enjoying the silence too much. I needed someone to come bug me like I needed another hole in my head.”
“Oh, I’m doing quite well, thank you for asking.” Ember leaned against a square post at the patio’s edge. “And yes, it is such a lovely autumn day.”
“You’re another one. Hearing whatever you want to hear.” Gloria held a liver-spotted hand up and then let it go slack at the wrist. “Nobody listens to me, anyway. I don’t even know why I bother.”
“It’s probably your cheerful disposition,” Ember said. “Anyway, since we’re alone, I wanted to see how things are going. How’re the patients this week?”
Gloria gazed at her with cloudy grey eyes behind gold wire-rimmed glasses. “You know how they are.”
“I wouldn’t ask you if I knew, Dr. Rout. Are you saying there’s no change? No progress in their treatment?”
“There’s never any progress in their treatment.” Gloria tugged at the edge of her unbuttoned coat, pulling it tight over the sweater she wore beneath. “I don’t know why I bother anymore. I try to help them, but do they appreciate me? No. I’m just an old lady, what do I know?”
Ember sighed. “You’ve been providing much-needed therapy to these changelings, Dr. Rout. Their disability is unlike anything in recorded history. To have their animal subforms trapped in another plane, denying them the ability to shift…they’ve been dealing with this ever since the Mandaree Incident nine years ago. You’ve brought them some relief.”
“Me? Relief?” Gloria huffed. “It’s that artifact of yours that’s helping them. I’ve tried every spell I know, every potion I know. The only thing that works is the Aedynar Artifact. Even that only masks the symptoms. It lets them sleep, it lets them function. But it doesn’t cure them. I’m not sure anything will cure them.”
Ember lowered her voice and leaned in. “I hope you don’t say things like that to your patients. They don’t need to hear that their doctor is giving up hope.”
“Oh sure, I’m gonna tell them that they’re lost causes. What do you think I am, an idiot?” Gloria shook her head and mumbled. “She thinks I’m an idiot.”
“Believe it or not, having you here does help.”
“How?” Gloria squinted at the younger mage. “How does having an old lady mixed up in this mess help anyone? I already told you, it’s the artifact that’s giving them relief. Not me.”
“Maybe. But with you working on them, trying different things…it gives them a reason to hope.”
“Hope?” Gloria again waved her hand dismissively. “I’ve done all I can for them. I’m going to get a plane ticket for home next week. I’m going to get back to Malvern Hills before winter sets in. It’s already too cold for my old bones. You don’t know what it’s like, being old like me. And North Dakota’s winters are cold here.”
“So, I’ve been told.” Ember raked her fingers through her hair. “Everyone keeps warning me of the winter. It seems to be a perverse source of pride for the locals.”
“You’d be a fool to dismiss those warnings. Our winters in Great Britain are mild compared to what they deal with here. January can get to minus 40. You know, that’s the same whether it’s Celsius or Fahrenheit. It’s so blasted cold, even the temperature scales find consensus. If you’ve got a reason to leave before the snow arrives, you’d be wise to take it.”
“I’ll be staying,” Ember said. “You seriously plan on leaving us? Leaving them?”
“I told you I am, didn’t I? Now I need to say everything twice before you start believing me?” Gloria tapped her cane against the rocking chair. “These changelings, they’ve got all they need right now. They’ve got the Aedynar Artifact to give them some measure of relief. They’ve got the Schmitts to take care of them.”
“But it’s no cure, you said so yourself.”
“Oh, so now she listens to what I say.” Gloria tugged at her coat. “Listen to this then: for some of these, their disability won’t ever go away.”
“What do you mean?”
“Take that young junkie Kenneth, down at the garage there. He’s always tinkering, trying to help out. Or Arnold, the Schmitt boy. He’s off with his brother working on a welding job on an oil rig somewhere right now. That one, that Arnold, he has ambition. He tolerates the pain of being away from the artifact so that he can provide for his family. Sure, he looks rough when he’s gone too long, but he suffers through it.”
“Are you saying there’s a psychological component to this?”
“Did I say that? Now you’re hearing what you want to hear again.” Gloria clutched at her coat with a quivering hand. “Well, it might be. Some people have the right attitude to cope with what life throws at them. Others don’t. That rough one, the loudmouth who’s never happy.”
“Who, Roy? Roy Turner?”
“He’s the one, yeah. The Grumbler. Always whinging about how unfair life is,
how terrible that nobody’s found a fix for him.” Gloria shook her head. “He’s the worst of them. That one is never happy. He wouldn’t know happiness if it bit him on his arse.”
Ember mumbled, “Pot, meet kettle?”
Gloria cupped a leathery hand to her ear. “What’s that you say? Something so smart you have to mutter it so the old lady can’t hear?”
“Nothing. Sorry. Please continue.”
“Bah, what’s the point?” Gloria dropped her hand dismissively. “I’ll be gone from here in a week and it’ll be your problem to deal with. I’ve done everything I can. I tell you though, I don’t know how the Schmitts do it. They have way more patience than I ever had. They’ve invited nine strangers to move into their home. They house them, they feed them. They converted their basement into a dormitory so that each of the changelings can sleep near the Aedynar Artifact.”
Ember crossed her arms. “You’re right. They even dug another water well to serve the extra people. Remember Luke Farsching, the water witch who located groundwater for them?”
“I remember that drunk charlatan. Crass and uncouth, that one.”
“I kind of liked him,” Ember admitted. “He lives somewhere in the badlands. Kind of a wannabe hermit. Sure, he was low-brow, but I got the feeling he was one of those chaps who you never have to wonder where you stand with him. I hope I get to meet him again.”
“She likes the crass bloviant. Why am I not surprised?” Gloria shook her head. “All I’m saying is that you’ve got nine extra bodies crammed under this roof. Nine strangers who will never be cured of their disabilities. They can never really leave, never be apart. It’s only been a few months, and the personality conflicts are starting to bubble up. The happy campground can’t last forever. It won’t. You mark my words, something will break, and it won’t be pretty when it does.”
6
No Mincing Words
The Sunday brunch was generous, as always it was at the Schmitt household. Arnold’s wife Stephanie made a medley of egg-and-ham-and-chopped onions poured over sliced Red River Valley potatoes and baked until the Colby cheese crust crisped brown along the edges. As if that wasn’t enough, stacks of buttermilk pancakes were served on the side with a choice of juneberry or chokecherry syrups. It was enough to feed a small army, which was appropriate, given how many people now dined under the same roof.
The Schmitt’s living room had been converted into an extended dining room, with collapsible banquet tables and folding chairs arranged where the sofa and television set once were. Ronald’s favorite recliner remained in a corner, but the rest of the furniture had been moved out to the garage to accommodate the expanded family which the Schmitts now fed.
Roy was the first one finished. He wordlessly pushed his chair back, stood up, and began to exit the dining room. Muriel scolded him as though he was a child. “Roy Turner! Do you think this is a restaurant? You know better than to leave your dirty dishes on the table. Now come back here and help clear the table. Honestly, where are your manners, young man?”
Roy at least had the presence of mind to act embarrassed. He apologized before obeying.
From across the table, Gloria raised an eyebrow, exchanging a knowing glance with Ember. No mind-reading was needed to see that the Healer was feeling validated.
Ember attempted to defuse the tension. “Yet another scrummy brunch, Stephanie.”
“Thank you,” the brunette changeling replied. She pointed with her chin at one of the guests. “Marv did most of the work.”
An overweight, mustachioed man with perpetually rosy cheeks shrugged self-consciously. “I mostly just peeled the potatoes. And sautéed the onions. And, well, I guess I whipped up the pancake batter.”
“Oh, and Anna, I almost forgot: my sister called me this morning. She wanted me to tell you how highly she thinks of your woodworking skill. She’s going to tell all her friends about your website. Her daughters will love the farm set, I’m sure.”
Anna looked up from her plate with dusky eagle eyes, her head raising to follow a moment later. “My first international order. All thanks to you, Ember.”
The mage raised a half-empty juice glass as a toast. “The first of many, yeah?”
Alarik and Arnold arrived as the plates were being cleared and dish washing had commenced. Muriel chastised her sons for nearly missing the family’s weekly brunch.
Ronald poured piping hot coffee into two ceramic mugs and slid them over to his sons. “Oh, ma, let the boys be. You know they’ve gotta hustle while they can. This boom won’t last forever.”
“We’ve gotta make hay while the sun shines,” Alarik said.
“Sure, but on Sunday?” Muriel said as she opened the oven door. She retrieved two disposable pie pans covered in aluminum foil. “I saved you boys both a plate. But if you would’ve been any later, I’d have fed it all to Lucky. Don’t think I wouldn’t.”
“Thanks, ma,” Arnold said.
“Yeah, thanks ma. You’re the best mother we’ve ever had.” Alarik couldn’t help but poke the bear. Which, in this instance was somewhat literal, considering Muriel’s animal subform was a Grizzly.
Maxim and Marta hadn’t forgotten Ember’s pledge to see the puppies. Each of Ember’s hands was claimed, being physically led as she was by the two children. She couldn’t help but smile.
“Hang on, I’ll come with you.” It was Alarik, who scooped the last morsel of pancake into his mouth, washing it down with coffee. He picked up his brother’s pie pan and slid his underneath it.
“You know, it’s fine to chew your food, don’t you Rik?” Ember said as her handlers pulled her along. “You eat like a starving animal.”
“I’m a growing boy,” Alarik said as he patted his stomach. His right hand was missing most of its index finger. The remaining stub would always serve as a reminder of how close he came to a torturous end.
Ember chewed her bottom lip as she fought to suppress the memory of Marcus Shaw—the Changeling Hunter—and how he had tortured and bled the two Schmitt brothers. If she would have waited for the storm to pass, she would have been rescuing corpses. Bollocks. Not now. I don’t need to be thinking such dark thoughts now. I get enough of that when I close my eyes.
“Are you alright?” Alarik leaned towards her, keeping his voice low.
“Yeah. I’m good.” She shook her head, sending her blonde locks cascading over her leather jacket’s shoulders. “Just a bit knackered, that’s all.”
“You have been looking a little rough lately, come to think of it.”
She shot him a glare. “Cheers, Rik. You’re blindingly poetical, aren’t you?”
“No, I mean…” Alarik scratched his stubbled chin. His umber eyes fixed to hers. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it like that.”
She said nothing. Ember regretted her reproach, but she didn’t make any effort to rescind it, either. What’s bloody wrong with me, taking offense like this? This is Rik we’re talking about here. When did my skin get so thin?
The two kids released Ember’s hands to race one another to the barn. Maxim won, the prize of which apparently was that he got to open the door.
The interior smelled of dry straw and wet corn mash. The lighting was dim, even when Alarik flipped a black toggle. Even when Ember’s eyes adjusted to the darkness, the three Schmitts saw details which were hidden from her. Score one for the changelings. Impeccable night vision.
“Do you hear them?” Marta asked.
Ember strained to detect what was blatant to them: soft yips, muffled behind stacked square straw bales. She and Alarik followed the children to the source. There they were, safely tucked within a confined space, surrounded by the insulating power of wheat straw.
Lucky laid on her side, raising her head only long enough to acknowledge the tourists. Eight tiny versions of her clamored over one another to suckle from their mother.
Ember couldn’t help but coo. “Aww, they are so precious!”
Marta picked two puppies up. “This one�
��s name is Spotty. And this one is Lucky Junior—”
“No, this one’s Lucky Junior,” Maxim said, picking up another.
“Let them eat, you two,” Alarik said. “And you know in a couple weeks they’ll be old enough to be weaned, right? They’ll be finding new homes then. Their new owners will name them.”
Maxim and Marta answered in unison, a hint of disappointment in their voices. “We know.”
“Do you think you’ll want to be mommy to one of them, Ember?” Marta sounded hopeful as she looked up at the mage.
“Oh, I…” Ember’s tired brain struggled to find an excuse. “I would, but you see I live in an apartment. I can’t exactly raise a puppy in my apartment.”
“If you want one, it could stay out at my place,” Alarik said. “You’ll have full visitation rights.”
“Always fixing things, aren’t you?” Ember raised an eyebrow at the bemused man. She squatted and gave Lucky a pat.
“Now we need to go check our calves,” Maxim said.
“Oh yes.” Marta hopped onto a bale, then bounded toward the exit. “Dee Dee misses you! She said so, I heard her.”
“But not as much as Dexter does!” Maxim wasn’t about to be outdone by his twin sister.
The products of their summertime 4H project, the Guernsey calves raised by the two Schmitt children were destined to be sold to the highest bidder. They knew that was their calves’ fate and they accepted slaughter as an inevitable outcome. It was just a fact of life as a farm kid that care would be given to what would someday become a freezer full of meals.
It was a concept Ember couldn’t fathom. As a city girl, she understood she suffered a disconnect between the food she ate and the means in which it was grown. She knew that. Yet, it was hard not to see these animals as pets.
Evidently, Alarik hadn’t been ready to see his niece and nephew’s youthful innocence auctioned off. When the county fair auction started, he made sure that his was the highest bid.
Dee Dee and Dexter knew a life only of leisure ever since.
