A Meddle of Wizards

by Alexandra Rushe

  “The troll will offer you no harm, unless you mean us ill.”

  A pale man with red hair climbed out of the lead boat and waded ashore. He had the rangy, starved look of a junkyard dog, and he wore stained, baggy trousers tucked into a pair of lizard skin boots. A rough tunic fell to his knees. In one hand, he carried a long pole ending in a wicked blade.

  The rest of the men piled out of the boats. Dressed in a similar fashion, they were armed, too. Keeping a cautious eye on the giant, they waded ashore.

  The redhaired leader started when he saw Raine, and stared.

  Mauric shifted his sword in his hand. “You’ll keep your eyes to yourself, floater, if you know what’s good for you.”

  “Floater?” Keron peeked around Tiny’s leg. “Da? Da.”

  Darting across the sand, the boy threw himself at the redhaired man.

  “Keron.” The man caught the boy in a fierce hug. “I never thought to see you again, son, and that’s the truth.”

  The girls crept from behind the giant. Squealing with joy, they ran to four of the men standing on the riverbank. With hoarse shouts of relief, the men embraced them.

  “Aw, would you look at that.” Tiny blew his nose with a loud honk. “It do a body good to see the little squiggies back with their folks.” He gave Chaz a nudge with the tip of one large finger. “Go on, mablet. Go be wiv yer family. It be all right.”

  Keron’s father pulled his son close, and shook his head. “That one ain’t ours.”

  “Then whose is he?” Raine asked.

  The redhaired man shrugged. “Don’t know and don’t care.”

  Gertie materialized, her massive shoulders hunched and her lips drawn back in a snarl. “Your concern for the boy is touching.”

  The redheaded man swore and stumbled back. “Floaters take care of their own, for no one else will.” He brandished his spear. “We’re here for our children. We don’t want trouble, but we’ll fight you for them, if we must.”

  “Don’t be a looby,” Tiny said. “Why would we send word through the marsh fairies that we had yer little ’uns, if ’n we wanted a fight?”

  “Money? Children fetch a good price in the market. That’s why the Shads took them.” The man’s hand tightened around his weapon. “But we ain’t got none, if that’s what you’re after.”

  Gertie flexed her claws. “We don’t want your money, and this conversation is beginning to annoy me. Take your cubs and go, before I lose my temper. Now,” she roared when the floaters made no move.

  Bustling their children into the skimmers, the river men pushed away from the bank and slid into the mist, disappearing as silently as they’d come.

  Gertie heaved a sigh of relief and clapped Raine on the shoulder. “You did a good thing, pet. The fidgets are back with their families.”

  “But I didn’t get to say goodbye.”

  “That’s just as well. Goodbyes are hard.”

  Raine nodded, but she felt like crying.

  “I know how you feels, Rainey,” Tiny said. “I miss the wee natterlings a’ready.” He wiped his eyes. “I sure hopes they don’t forget old Tiny.”

  Raine gave the giant a watery smile. “I don’t think that’s very likely.”

  “You thinks so? Leastways, I gots this to remember l’il Chaz by.” Opening his hand, he showed Raine a rock. “The mablet found it and give it to me. ‘You keeps this fer me, Tiny,’ the wee one says. ‘Jes fer a little while. Keep it safe. I knows I can trust you with it.’” A tear dripped off the end of his nose. “Don’t that beat all?”

  “It’s a very pretty rock, Tiny, but you won’t need it to remember Chaz,” Raine said. “He’s staying with us.”

  Tiny dropped the stone in the leather pouch on his belt, and gave it a pat. “Oh, well . . . as to that, you never knows.”

  A horn blew on the river. The sound was muffled by the thick fog.

  “Ho, Gert,” Tiny said. “There be yer ride.”

  “Excellent.” Gertie had Chaz in her arms, propped on one of her wide hips. “Be a good giant and stop it for me.”

  “Sure thing,” Tiny said, bending to remove his sandals.

  The barge drifted into view and Chaz squealed in delight. Eight snaky animals pulled the vessel down the river, undulating through the water in long, sinuous loops. Weedy tendrils of green hair crowned the dragonish heads, and the creatures’ tapered snouts bristled with small, sharp teeth.

  “Dragons,” Chaz said.

  “Not dragons, boy,” Gertie said. “Those are water horses.”

  “Water horses?” Raine asked, feeling faint.

  “That’s right.” Gertie gave her an odd look. “Don’t you have them on Urp?”

  “No. No, we do not.”

  “How do your ferries navigate the rivers?”

  Wheels and pulleys, and engines. Raine opened her mouth to explain this to Gertie but thought better of it. “It’s complicated.”

  Tiny dropped his sandals in the sand and lumbered down the bank.

  “Wait, Tiny. I’ll go with you,” Mauric said. “I want a better look at those horses.”

  “Me, too,” said Chaz, trying to wiggle down.

  Gertie tightened her arm around the boy. “Not yet. You stay here with old Gertie.”

  Tiny paused long enough for Mauric to scramble onto his shoulder, then plodded into the river. Cupping his hands to his mouth, Mauric gave a strange call. The water horses screeched in answer, a high-pitched, lonely sound that was half eagle cry, half horse whinny, and veered off course.

  “Ho, now,” the captain shouted, pulling hard on the rudder.

  The animals ignored him and made straight for Mauric. Heaving out of the water, the lead horse snuffled the warrior. Reaching down, Mauric scratched the creature’s pointy ears, and the water horse butted against his hand. The rest of the team followed suit. Crowding around the giant, they jockeyed for Mauric’s attention.

  “They like to be petted,” Chaz said.

  “Thank goodness,” said Raine. “I was afraid they were going to eat him.”

  “Nah, they don’t eat humans.” After a moment’s thought, Gertie added. “Usually. Even so, they won’t eat Mauric. He has a way with wild things.” She winked at Raine. “Like you.”

  “I am not a wild—” Raine protested.

  “Shush,” Gertie said. “Tiny’s speaking to the captain.”

  The giant gestured to the shore, but the captain shook his head.

  “He looks unhappy,” Raine said. “I don’t think he means to give us passage.”

  “Maybe this will change his mind.” Gertie set Chaz on the ground and held up her wizard stone.

  It blazed white in the troll’s upraised paw, and the captain took a hasty step back.

  “See?” Gertie said. “He’s changing his mind, already.”

  The captain said something else to Tiny, and the giant nodded.

  “The captain says he be plum tickled ter carry the lot o’ you to Gambollia,” Tiny hallooed at them across the water.

  Gertie lowered her wizard stone. A satisfied smile played about her black lips. “I thought he might be.”

  Tiny plunked Mauric on the deck of the barge and waded back to shore. “Ready, Rainey?”

  Raine eyed the barge uncertainly. It was a rickety old tub, with peeling paint and warped boards, and it was pulled by a team of carnivores.

  “Is this absolutely necessary?” she asked, turning to Gertie. “Couldn’t we walk to Gambollia?”

  “There’s marsh between us and the city,” Gertie said. “Nothing but swamp for leagues and leagues, and it’s full of hungry creatures, blood-sucking insects, snakes, and a thousand hidden dangers. And if that weren’t enough, we have Glonoff and his men to worry about. It’s this barge, or the next, but why wait?”

  “I see your point.” Ra
ine squared her shoulders. “Come on, Chaz. Let’s go.”

  Tiny carried them through the river to the waiting barge, and lowered them onto the deck.

  “Gar,” the startled captain exclaimed as Gertie turned into a bird, flitted across the water, and landed on the deck.

  The bird shimmered and Gertie resumed her former shape. “Pleased to meet you, captain,” she said, rising on her hind legs.

  The captain stared at the troll’s outstretched paw, but did not take it. “I’d say the same, but that ’ud be a lie.”

  Tiny cleared his throat. “Well, it be fine knowing you. A giant couldn’t ask fer better traveling companions.”

  Gertie stumped to the side of the barge. “Thank you, Tiny. I won’t forget what you’ve done and neither will Bree.” Reaching into her robe, she held up a leather pouch. “Take this as payment for your trouble.”

  The giant lifted his hands, palms out. “You keeps yer coin, Gertie. You never know when you might need a bit o’ the ready.”

  “What’s this?” Raine cried, rushing to the rail. “You’re coming with us, Tiny.”

  The giant shook his head. “Nay, lass, this be as far as old Tiny goes. I’d sink this bucket. ’Sides, Gambollia’s no place fer a giant. There ’ud be panic in the streets.”

  “I’m not leaving you, Tiny. I can’t do this without you.”

  Tiny’s bottom lip trembled. “This ain’t good-bye, Rainey. It jes be so long. We’ll see each other again. Count on it.”

  “How?” Tears streamed down Raine’s face. The bargemen were staring at her, but she didn’t care. “How will I find you again when I don’t know where to look?”

  Tiny leaned closer. “You won’t have to. Tiny will find you.”

  “H-how?” Raine hiccupped.

  “You think it be chance I showed up when them Shads attacked? You called me.” Tiny tapped his broad forehead with his finger. “I heared you in m’ head, clear as a bell. ‘Tiny, I needs you,’ you says. You needs me again, you jes call. Tiny will come. No matter what.” He stepped back and gave the water horses a swat. “All right, you lot, get on wiv you.”

  The horses neighed and the barge surged downstream. Tiny stood in the river, the hem of his ragged skirt swirling in the current. He raised a large hand in farewell. Through her tears, Raine kept her gaze on the giant until the barge rounded a bend in the river and Tiny disappeared from view.

  Chapter 22

  Haroun

  Keron held fast as the glider neared Haroun. He wasn’t afraid of drowning—he’d learned to swim before he could walk, and Da had been handling gliders like this one since he was a tadling. It was the place they were headed to that scared Keron.

  He’d danced with excitement when Da had invited him along, but his exhilaration had quickly died when he’d heard where they were going. They wouldn’t be welcome in Haroun. Bank dwellers were stuck up and suspicious, and Haroun meant venturing onto the Big Shara. The Big was too wide and open—the sheer size of the river terrified Keron. It was nothing like the Little Shara, with its snaky sluices and hidden backwaters. The Little was where floaters belonged.

  He glanced at Da. Despite the winter chill, sweat beaded his father’s brow. Kedrick removed his straw hat and tossed it in the bottom of the boat. His red hair shone in the sunlight. Keron was proud to be a redhead like his father, though the other boys teased him for it. Fire Cap they called him and Copper Knob. Other hateful names, too, but he didn’t care.

  “Pay them no mind,” his ma told him. “They’re jealous. Red hair is lucky.”

  Keron hoped Ma was right, ’cause he and Da were going to need luck in Haroun. No good came of Floaters going ashore.

  The glider skimmed along the river without a ripple. Once, Keron spied a mer-otter sunning on a partially submerged log, a female with big brown eyes, a cute black button of a nose, and large breasts covered in silky brown fur. The mer-otter returned his stare and dove into the water with an indignant splash.

  They rounded the bend and Keron caught his first glimpse of Haroun. Gar, it was big. The houses at the water’s edge were on stilts—smart, in the event of a flood, but the houses on the bluff were built right on the ground. He shook his head at such foolishness. The river was hungry, and would swallow them one day.

  As they neared the wharf, he caught a whiff of something savory and his belly rumbled. He and Da had broken their fast before daybreak—brown bread and fish—but that had been hours ago, and Keron was hungry. Smoke wafted from braziers, and the scents of roasted meat and fried fish made his mouth water. Vendors along the piers shouted to passersby to sample their wares, and the air was noisy with the bustle of workers loading and unloading goods on the floating dock.

  Haroun was strange and noisy, and exciting. Even the garb of the locals was different. Floaters dressed in muted colors to blend in with their surroundings—browns, greens, and grays—the colors of the river. Dry landers, however, seemed to want to stick out. The men wore bright coats with long tails and feathers in their hats, and the women clad themselves in tight fitting tops and flowing skirts.

  Da eased up to the dock and tied off. At the far end of the pier, a fat man in a blue hat looked down his nose at them. He murmured something to his lady wife and drew her away, as though the sight of two floaters had soiled them, somehow.

  Da jammed his straw hat on his head and stepped out of the boat. “Come, boy.”

  Keron scrambled out of the glider, shrinking behind his father as a man with an oiled beard hurried up to them.

  “It’s half a garro to dock here,” the bearded man said with a sneer. “From the looks of you, you ain’t got nothing but a hole in your pocket.”

  “I got brass, land monkey.” Da tossed the hateful man a small brown coin from his pocket. “Take it, and choke on it.”

  Keron stared at Da in surprise. Da had money? That could only mean one thing. He’d raided the coin jar that Ma kept hidden at the bottom of the flour barrel. The jar contained money for luxuries like salt, honey, flour, and the odd bit of pork or mutton they enjoyed on Durn’s Day. The business that brought them to Haroun must be very important for Da to break into the money jar. Keron’s stomach did a fishy flip flop. And Da needed his help. What if he let him down?

  The man examined the coin closely before pocketing it. “You’ve got half a day, floater. See you’re gone by then.”

  Da shot the man a look of dislike and strode up the boardwalk. Keron hurried after him, looking this way and that in wonder. Haroun was a jangle of shouting people, carts, horses, shops, and houses, so many houses. Lots of the buildings, he noted with awe, were two stories high. No one needed that much room. His family lived in a bamboo houseboat with a deck and one room for sleeping, and that was room a-plenty. More amazing still, Haroun houses were fashioned of timber and stone. Keron marveled they didn’t collapse from their own weight.

  He stole a glance at his father. Da had been jumpy and cross as a marsh cat all morning. “Why are we in Haroun, Da?”

  “Not now, boy. Keep up.”

  Keron trotted faster. “Haroun’s a mighty big place.”

  “Not so big. No more ’n a thousand people.”

  “A thousand people?” Keron tried to imagine that many people crammed into one place, but his mind balked. “Gar, that’s bigger ’n Gambollia.”

  Da laughed. “Nothing like. Gambollia’s the biggest city in Durngaria, maybe in the world. It’s a hundred times the size of this squabby little town.” He took Keron by the hand. “Now, hush, boy, and help me look.”

  “Sure, Da. What are we looking for?”

  “A sign over a pub door with a picture of a water horse. Look sharp, now. We don’t want to miss it.”

  Keron obeyed, scanning the shops as they walked. Da was depending on him.

  “There it is, Da.” Keron pointed to a faded sign above the door of a low, wh
itewashed building.

  He couldn’t read the faded squiggles on the shingle, but he recognized the snake-like creature coiling around the letters.

  “You’ve eyes like a lynx, son.” Da knelt in the dusty street. “I’ll take you to Gambollia one day, if you’re a good boy.”

  Keron’s eyes widened. “Me and you, go to Gambollia?”

  “Yes, but only if you do as you’re told.”

  “I’ll be good. I promise.”

  Da guided him to a spot beneath an open window of the pub and sat him down. “Wait here. And don’t talk to nobody.”

  Keron twisted his hands in the hem of his tunic. “By myself? But I—”

  Da shook him. “You wait, you hear?”

  “Yes, sir.” Keron wiped his nose on his sleeve. “You’re coming back, aintcha?”

  “Course I’m coming back. Your ma will have my balls for a necklace if anything happens to you.” Da ruffled Keron’s hair. “For luck.”

  He strode inside the pub, leaving Keron alone with the noise and the staring town folk, and the smells—the Little didn’t stink of horse manure, rotting meat, fish, body odor, and garbage. Keron wished with all his heart that they were away from this peculiar place. He wrapped his arms around his knees. His chest felt tight and his tummy ached like he was back on the giant. A tear trickled down his face. He wiped it away. He would not cry. He’d be brave for Da.

  He closed his eyes and stayed ever so still. He hoped the bank dwellers didn’t notice him. He hoped Da came back, and soon.

  * * * *

  Kedrick paused at the door to remove his hat. This was it, his one big chance. Opportunity seldom smiled on a floater. Taking a deep breath, he strode into the pub and looked around. Like the rest of Haroun, the place reeked of fish. The familiar odor mingled with the smells of sweat, smoke, and sour ale. It was early, and most of the scarred wooden tables sat empty. Half a dozen customers lolled at the bar. He let his gaze move around the dimly lit room. Two men clad in somber black, lean and dark of hair and eye, were seated at a back table. The thin red band on the brim of their hats identified them as agents of Shad Amar. The pungent smoke swirling around their heads confirmed their identity. Gurshee cigarettes were a vice few could afford in this backwater, but Glonoff’s agents received them as part of their rations, lucky dogs.