by Deva Fagan
“Why, boy?” asked Rencevin, scowling.
“Because I know how to pick a lock behind my back.” With that, Barnaby swung one arm around, smashing the empty manacles into the side of Rencevin’s arm. The brand skittered away across the cobblestones, sparking madly.
Then Barnaby was at my side. Rencevin’s gargle of fury was drowned by Yeg’s bellow. The alligator started forward, opening his massive jaws.
“No, Yeg,” I commanded. “Leave him. He’d probably give you a bellyache. You can hunt in the river. We need to get out of the city.”
So we did.
Chapter 14
“I should go,” said Barnaby, pacing around the cabin. “Rencevin and the rest will be after me soon enough. I don’t like having you lot mixed up in it. I’m the one who’s a wanted criminal.”
Miranda made a shushing noise and poured us each a fresh cup of hot-leaf. The rest of us sat around the table, the deck humming under our feet as we steamed south, away from Orlanna. There had been no pursuit as of yet. Or perhaps Yeg had driven them off.
“Have no fear,” said Milo. “The Gullet Waterborne Players will spread the true tale throughout the Uplands. How the evil Serafine stole away the magic of the Uplands for herself, how she would have harrowed us all if not for the valor of Barnaby the Brave and Prunella, the good witch of the bog. The people of the Uplands will know the truth.”
“The truth won’t make a very good story,” said Barnaby fiercely. “I should have told you what I really was. You were putting your necks on the line for me, and I let you think I was some sort of white knight.” He threw himself down into the chair.
“Oh, bosh,” said Milo. “It’s more important how you end the story than how you start it. Besides, we don’t have a white-knight mask anymore.” He gave a smile as broad and warm as the noon sky.
Barnaby relaxed under Milo’s beaming grin. He even took a proper swig of his tea. “Thanks, Milo. Miranda. All you Gullets. You lot are as much heroes as Prunella or I. We couldn’t have done it without you.”
“And you know,” said Liss, looking shyly toward Barnaby, “reformed villains make the best heroes.”
I smothered a groan. Dark-shadowy-past Barnaby appeared to be even more appealing to her than heroic Barnaby.
“We’ll have the show on the road in no time,” said Milo. “I’ve just got to finish writing the last act, and we’ll need to put together the costumes. I wager by next year every village in the Uplands will have heard the tale.”
“Thank the sweet hills, the masks are back in working order,” said Miranda. “We’ll need them for the epic Milo has planned. Even the dragon.”
“But we didn’t fight a dragon,” I protested.
“Not yet,” said Milo. “Speaking of which, what are you two going to do next? I could use some more material. Off on more adventures, I hope?”
“Of course, you’d be welcome to stay here with us as long as you like,” added Miranda.
The two boys cheered. Liss, starry-eyed, said, “Yes, please stay, Barnaby.”
Barnaby looked across the table at me. “Well, I reckon I ought to see my brothers. I didn’t leave things in such good shape, and if I’ve got Rencevin on my tail he’ll be on to them, too. After that…” He drained his tea in one last gulp. “I figured I’d keep on doing this. Finding folks in trouble. The curse may be gone, but with magic loose in the Uplands, there’s going to be a lot that needs looking after. Not that I expect to fix it all on my own, but I’ll do what I can.”
“On your own? What about Prunella?” asked Timothy.
“Prunella will be back in the Bottomlands,” said Barnaby. “She’s got what she came for.”
Heat flooded my skin. I could have shaken myself. I’d been an idiot. I’d assumed he would want…that we would— Suddenly I could not bear to have them all looking at me. I rose from my seat. “I guess I have. You’ll have troubles enough without a bog-witch hanging about. The sooner I leave, the better.” I hastened from the room without looking back.
The problem with a boat is that there’s nowhere to escape to, if you truly want to be alone. I moved to the prow of the Brilliante, where cool fingers of wind slid along my scalp. I could just spy the bumps of Yeg’s nostrils, floating innocently alongside the paddleboat. I wondered if he would carry me back to the bog.
No. I’d told Grandmother I had a reason to stay in the Uplands, and it wasn’t Barnaby. It wasn’t only Barnaby, I corrected myself ruthlessly. I had work to do. Magic was loose again in the Uplands. I could feel it humming around me. Not as strong as in the Bottomlands, but the dead dullness was gone. They would fear it, these Uplanders. They didn’t know any better. But I could teach them. I could show them how to protect themselves from the dangers, how to see the beauties.
Now that I’d set my feet on this path, I knew it was the right one. I could feel the surety of it in my bones. Still…I had hoped I wouldn’t be walking it alone. I had hoped—for the first time, really—to have a friend beside me. Leaning out from the railing, I watched the ripples flow past.
Someone came up beside me. “Liss told me,” said Barnaby.
“Told you what? That she’s madly in love with you?”
Barnaby coughed. “Ah. No. She told me about your grandmother coming to take you back. She told me you could have gone away, been a proper bog-witch. But you stayed to help me.”
“Not just to help you,” I said. “I have a mission. I’m going to teach these Uplanders that magic isn’t something to be afraid of. That they don’t need to haul off anyone who’s strange and different and toss her on a bonfire. That there’s beauty in the bogs, not just frights.”
“So you are staying.”
There was an edge to his voice I couldn’t interpret, and, curse me, I was scared to look at him. “Don’t worry,” I said. “I won’t be a tagalong and ruin your heroic style.”
“There are more important things than heroic style,” said Barnaby. “Like friendship. Bravery. Doing the right thing. And you know, I think I’d miss having you around, Prunella Bogthistle.”
Our words were a shaky ladder; all I could do was climb, uncertain if I was about to surmount a glorious peak or fall and smash myself upon the rocks below.
“I’ve gotten…rather used to you, too, Barnaby.” I risked a sidewise glance. He was smiling.
Barnaby stuck out his hand. “It’s a deal, then. We’ll give old Milo a whole raft of adventures for his mummeries.”
I gripped Barnaby’s hand. Esmeralda’s grimoire lay solid and full of promise in my coat pocket, pressed against my heart. The river spun past us in a glittering skein. Joy bubbled up inside me, as green and fresh as a fern-edged spring. I didn’t even care that I had no warts. It didn’t matter. In that moment, I was exactly who I wanted to be. And I was happy.
