by Unknown
Either way, life had suddenly lost its carefree joy, and the urge to guard was strong. But neither mind was sure exactly what they were guarding against.
#
After many false starts with various backstage items—ropes, sandbags, makeup brushes, potted artificial palms, a piano, and other items best left unmentioned—the final choice was perfect. Some three years previously, a student actor from the College of Wizardry, in a public performance of Hamlet that was attended by much of Londinium and even by the King himself on opening night, had used a carefully tuned invisibility spell to present his unrobed skeleton in the role of the late King Hamlet’s ghost. The show slammed to a halt in the very first scene, unfortunately, when the Ghost appeared onstage and it became obvious that pranksters had nullified the spell, displaying the hapless thespian in all his Emperor’s-new-clothes glory. The show must go on, however, and everyone tried their best to persevere...but then the actor portraying Bernardo spoke his line, “Looks it not like the king? mark it, Horatio,” bringing a wave of laughter from the opening-night crowd, with not a few glances toward the Royal box. For his part, Horatio valiantly tried to keep a straight face; but as he replied, “Most like: it harrows me with fear and wonder,” both his composure and the audience’s—along with the Bard’s grand tragedy—went to pieces.
After a morning’s tense conversation with the Crown, the College administration issued a tastefully-worded directive banning invisibility spells for the next three terms, along with a permanent ban on the theatrical use of any technique that risked “this or any other such wardrobe malfunction.” The University’s theater department regretfully constructed an oversized skeleton of wood that could be manipulated using levitation and other telekinetic spells, and the show did indeed go on.
The bone-marionette was still in its cabinet and magic-ready to boot. The makt flowed through the spaces between the door and the jamb, and a moment later those spaces shown with a ghastly violet light. With a splintering crunch the door latch burst apart. The door swung open to reveal the palely glowing skeleton, looking more than ever like the death it symbolized, rising to its feet and clumping onstage toward the footlamps and then down the steps to the orchestra. A cloaking subroutine engaged, and the skeleton vanished from the range of human sight.
With tottering steps the makt made its way up the center aisle and out the exterior doors to begin the hunt.
#
This morning Stephen had gone to meet again with the seminar, this time in its regular lecture hall. Melisande fed Mika a portion of the previous evening’s dinner—pork chops with fried apples, her favorite. Stephen had fixed it for her, and she was tempted to forgive him for that evening’s student invasion. After breakfast, she built up the fire in the living room and thought about doing some reading.
Mika had other plans, though. Melisande had just settled herself in the chair and picked up her book when Mika trotted up and put her front paws on the chair arm.
“Hello there. And what do you have in your mouth? Give it here.” To her surprise, Mika dropped the tiny packet into Melisande’s lap without an argument. It was a pair of Stephen’s socks, still folded together. “What are you doing with this, eh?” Melisande said, scratching behind Mika’s right ear and wondering whether to be angry.
Mika barked once and waited.
“I don’t—oh, wait a minute. Maybe I do.” With an effort Melisande levered herself out of the chair, deciding she wasn’t going to do that more often than she absolutely had to until the baby came. As she picked up the sock bundle, Mika barked again and backed away toward the hallway leading to the bedroom.
“A-ha! Here we go,” Melisande said, tossing the socks down the hallway. Mika swiveled around and dashed down the hallway, picked up the bundle, and brought it back. Instead of dropping it at Melisande’s feet, however, she merely sat and held it up, allowing Melisande to pluck it from between her jaws. It was quite dry.
“Why, thank you, Mika,” she said. “Have you done this with pregnant ladies before?” Mika only barked and darted down the hallway again.
They played fetch for a few more minutes, stopping only when Melisande paused to lean on the back of her chair and take a breath. breath. As if on cue, Mika trotted back around the chair and lay down beside it.
“My goodness,” said Melisande. “If only husbands were as accommodating!” She chuckled and resumed both her seat and her book, an experimental novel about a love triangle involving a lycanthrope and—wonder of wonders!—a sympathetic hæmophage. She didn’t think it had a chance, but she was willing to give it the benefit of the doubt.
She hadn’t read more than five pages, however, when Mika jumped to her feet, ran to the window, and began to bark up a storm. “What in the world are you barking at?” she said, pushing herself slowly, awkwardly, to her feet and joining the dog at the window. “There’s nothing out there!”
Indeed, the window showed only the empty courtyard, crisscrossed by walkways and winter-dormant grass that covered the hundred-plus yards to one of the inner castle walls of the University complex.
The border collie would not be deterred. She continued her frantic barking, her eyes focused not straight across from the window but somewhat to the left. Abruptly she stopped, bounded away from the window, and dashed leftward toward the hallway and down it toward the bedroom, barking all the way, as if seeking a better vantage point. Melisande slowly followed, calling, “Mika? What are you doing?”
Before she reached the hallway, the barking stopped.
“Finally!” she said, making her way down the hall to the bedroom. “Mika, what on God’s green earth has gotten into—”
She reached the bedroom doorway and stopped. The bed was made, the rug orderly, the window closed.
The dog was gone.
She shook her head. Clearly she had gone mad. That was it. She had an absent-minded husband, a Guardian-elect child, and now a vanishing dog. She was mad, mad as the hare in March.
There was nothing for it but to make a pot of tea and go back to her book.
#
She galloped across the campus, her legs powering her past lawns, classroom buildings, offices, and the people who were normally out in the mid-morning. The sight was breathtaking, the rush of energy exhilarating. And the smells! She could smell the greenery, which surprised her, since it was still wintertime and nothing had blossomed yet. The dirt beneath her feet, the remnants of someone’s breakfast from a nearby lodging, even the people walking along the walkways had their own scents.
Melisande noted that not a soul turned to look at her, which seemed strange. Normally when she strolled along those walkways people said hello, or at least smiled. But then she was also able to look them in the eye, whereas now they were looking well over her head. Her viewpoint was no higher than their knees; it was as though she were—
(“—on four legs, close to the ground... Oh, I see. I’m a dog again. But it’s daytime, so I wouldn’t be dreaming now. Therefore I’m delusional. Of course. It only fol—”)
No you’re not! You’re there! I’m here!
It was an actual voice, although she didn’t seem to be hearing it with her ears. It was one she had never heard speak before, and she wondered why it seemed so familiar somehow. Abruptly she realized that while no one had spoken in this voice, she had heard quite a few barks of similar tone. (“Mika?”)
Yes, Mellie! Me! That was the nickname a young novice had used for Melisande at the Motherhouse, and it had caught on among the nuns. It made sense that she should hear it now...unless, of course, she were imagining it too. Which could be, if in fact she had gone mad. But what if—
(“I’m actually talking to you?”)
Yes! Why not? You talk to me a lot!
(“Well, yes...but I never really expected you to answer.”)
How strange! I always answer. You must not have been listening.
Was she dreaming again? That too would make sense. She was back home—”there”—by t
he fire, asleep. (“The book must not have much going for it, then.”)
Not much what? I don’t under—
(“Never mind. Where are we going?”)
Bad! It’s bad! Can’t you smell it?
She quieted and let the impressions wash through her as Mika sailed past the Semeiotics department office, turned a corner, and headed across a courtyard toward the distant Knox Arch. (“Faintly...yes, yes, it’s there! Oh my word, it is bad. Worse than those eggs that sat for a month before we found them...”)
Yes! That’s it. Bad.
(“And you could smell this from the house?”)
No, not in my nose...behind my nose...all around me...that’s not right, I don’t know how to say—
(“No, it’s fine, I understand. But now we really do smell it?”)
Yes! Terrible! And it’s coming.
They dashed through the archway and along a stone-floored corridor. (“Coming from where?”)
Don’t know. Coming to us. It wants. It wants.
(“Wants what?”)
It wants Dorothea. There’s nothing else. It wants her.
That gave her pause. Who? The name was new to her. She knew no student named Dorothea, no teacher, no staff...
The dog leapt through one of a row of small arches bordering the corridor and out onto another swath of dormant grass. It crackled under her feet, and the increased traction lengthened her stride.
Perhaps someone in town, or one of the new students. Last night there was...
Something inside her froze. Coming to us, Mika had said.
The baby.
#
Mika turned a corner past More Hall and saw it. The bizarre figure walked slowly but steadily beside the flagstone path in the direction that would ultimately take it to the cottage where Mellie sat dreaming, with the baby inside her. It couldn’t be allowed to go past this point! Mika barked, but the thing ignored her.
Some people turned to look at her, but not at the—it seemed to be a walking stack of bones, a—what did they call it—
(“Skeleton,”) Mellie supplied.
That’s right, a skeleton. No one seemed to notice it. They didn’t see it. Even Mika could barely see it. From moment to moment flickered out of sight; one moment it was there, a dim purpley color, and then for an instant it wasn’t. Was it real? Oh yes, it’s real. Unreal things don’t smell like that!
And indeed it did smell, enough that several of the people nearby wrinkled their noses and glanced about, puzzled. Evidently they dismissed it as either a bit of nearby magic some first-year student had botched, or something that the custodial staff would clear away soon.
Still they appeared not to see the skeleton thing. Maybe they couldn’t see it! Mika knew humans could see almost all the colors she could, although they needed brighter light to do it. Perhaps this purpley color fell into the slim margin between their sight and hers. And yes, it was dimly visible... but she was fine with dim light. Mika wondered if there were a cat around. It might be interesting to find out which of them could see this thing better.
Heh. It probably thinks it’s unseen. One mistake.
(“Mika?”)
Yes, Mellie?
(“You know that I...love you very much...don’t you? And...that I’m glad, so very glad you’ve come to stay with us?”) Her voice in Mika’s head held a strange quaver.
Yes! Yes, I do.
(“And at the Motherhouse, I was a perfect example of a calm, serene, exceptionally rational woman? Not prone to wild emotional outbursts?”)
Calm, quiet, thoughtful, yes. Very much so. Mika had no idea where this was going.
(“Good.”) She sounded quiet and precise even now. Dangerously so. (“Because I hope you won’t be hurt if I leave you and try to sleep without dreaming for a while, because I’m sitting here very, very pregnant and you’re telling me Hamlet’s father’s ghost is marching toward us and wants to do something terrible to my baby and I am this close to collapsing into full-on raging gibbering hysterics.”) Mellie took a mental breath. (“Which won’t help you either. So, if you don’t mind, I’ll just say Godspeed and you can tell me about it later. Okay?”)
Oh. Mika supposed she was right....Yes. Sleep. Do speak to the King about this, will you? I will need it.
(“Uh...Lord Logas and Magistrix Judith are going to the palace this afternoon. Perhaps...oh. Okay, I will,”) Mellie’s voice said wearily, and fell silent. She would have been helpful, but Mika knew Mellie needed to be somewhere other than here right now.
And here included an oncoming bone-monster.
Did it see her? It didn’t pay attention to her when she barked. Just a—a skull, that was right. No eyes.
She gathered her courage and charged it. She had herded sheep by nipping at their feet...but then she knew where the shepherd was and made them move towards him. Where was the shepherd for this bone-thing? Or was there one? And if so, was Mika ready to meet that shepherd?
No time for that. She knew where the skeleton-thing intended to go. Herd it any way but there.
Running toward its feet, she noted the placement of its left ankle. She circled around and darted toward it, her mouth opening to take a bite.
A bony arm scythed downward and swept her into the air. She landed hard on her side some thirty feet away, the wind knocked well out of her.
So much for whether it could see her. She struggled haltingly to her feet. Ow. It thinks it’s unseen. I know I’m not.
The standard method was out, then, even reversed. The thing might walk slowly, but it could twist and contort itself quite nimbly. She, then, had to either move faster than it did, or do something it didn’t expect.
The skeleton appeared to be articulated like that of a human being. If it actually were, then a frontal assault was worse than useless, but she might be able to hit it from the back. She’d have to be quick, though; she didn’t know whether it could only see forward or it somehow sensed what was happening on all sides. If that were the case, she was in big trouble.
Nothing for it but to try. Mika approached the thing from the rear, zigging and zagging, and just when she figured it should expect her to zag, she zigged and launched herself toward the spot between its shoulder blades.
There was a flash of light, and then she saw nothing.
#
Darkness. Darkness and silence. Mika lay on her stomach amid absolute blackness. Had she lost consciousness? For how long? And how close was the bone-thing now to Mellie and Dorothea?
First order of business: to figure out where she was. Not on the lawn, that was certain: underneath she felt not grass and dirt but stone. The walkway? She slowly got to her feet, very carefully lest she strike her head against something above. Remembering a previous time an enemy had put her in a box, preparing to bury it and her, she shuddered.
She felt no surface above her corresponding to the floor. That was good. She eased slowly forward, and bumped her nose against a solid wall. Box! she thought, fighting to hold her breathing steady. Maybe not. Turn. Do not panic. Turning around; good, good. Now step forward, slowly. Small steps. That thing took sight and hearing, but I can still feel.
To her great relief she encountered, not the opposite vertical side of a box, but empty space. It was a room, then, at least thirty feet in one direction, or so she decided when she finally encountered the room’s far wall.
That still left the question of her senses. What had—
WHOOMP!
Off to her right a flame burst into being underneath a boiler. She was in a basement, and someone on a floor above had decided the cold was getting to him or her and had recited the incantation that fired up this auxiliary system. Surely that was what this was, since it had lain unused until this moment. Mika blessed whoever was feeling so delicate right now.
The light from the slits in the firebox beneath the boiler shone dimly, but it was all she needed. The outlines of the basement room came into view, including a heavy wooden door off to her left.
The thing had put her here. It hadn’t killed her. Maybe it doesn’t kill! Maybe it takes and moves. She immediately considered what that meant for Dorothea. The thing had not come to kill her but to take her. Words like ransom and changeling crawled through Mika’s mind, bringing chills in their wake.
But what would it do then? If it was alive, then there was no way to know where it would put her once it had her. That line of thought wouldn’t help.
If it wasn’t alive, however... Mika had heard long ago about spells that existed independently of the mages who cast them, like curses but with more specific orders. If this were one such spell, a makt, then it was mostly a simple transvection spell, with a single place to deposit its prey—here, where no one was likely to come or hear a shouting prisoner.
That gave Mika two options. On the one foot, she could stay here and wait for Mellie and the baby to be taken and then stand guard against those who would retrieve them from this place. But not only did she not know what sort of enemy or enemies she would face, she didn’t know exactly what the makt would do to Mellie and the child in the process of taking them, or how soon. She had no idea what a “hamlet’s father’s ghost” did, and if the makt had taken that form its actions would follow suit. She surely didn’t want to find out after the fact when she could have prevented it.
That left the other foot. Mika didn’t know the distance between this room and the ground outside...but the thickness of the door was a trivial matter. She gathered herself, pictured the distance in her mind, and leapt.
A stairway took her up one level, exiting beside the stage in what must be a theater. That made no sense, but it wasn’t important. Mika had to find out where she was and get back to work.
#
Orientation was far easier once she was back outside. The makt’s odor was unmistakable. Mika was dismayed to find that while she was in the boiler room the skeleton had covered fully half the distance to Mellie’s house. No more pouncing attacks, then. She could not afford the time.
