Have Wroom Will Travel

by Jim Conder

  Even Susan had a limited amount of rage and her expression softened as she looked back at Maggie.

  “You’re welcome.”

  “You were very impressive with those trolls tonight, “ Maggie added,”I wish I could have done that.”

  “You will someday,” Susan said,”You have great potential I can sense it in you.”

  Her expression hardened somewhat.”Now go to bed, you need your rest. I’ll not go easy on you.”

  As she flew off into the night, Susan’s thoughts turned to the next night. She still couldn’t believe the nerve of that man. thinking he had a chance in a dual with her.

  Out of the corner of her eye she saw a odd green glow, way off in the distance, towards Lander.

  Her thumbs began to prick.

  In her bed Maggie awoke from a deep sleep, awakened by the pricking of her thumbs.

  In Gormen, Damien rubbed his thumbs and looked towards Lander.

  In Lander almost all the munchkins had disappeared. There were however far more flying monkeys around the place. Everyone had begun to wonder whether or not this was truly an improvement. The munchkins, while dirty had been a peacable lot, the monkey routinely broke windows, and screeched all through the night.

  Still after years of complaining about munchkins, nobody in Lander was about to admit that they acually missed the little freaks. The last two munchkins, recognizing the way things were headed, packed up and moved outside of town. They wondered if things would ever be the same again.

  From the air Galder, Ghast, and Gormen formed the points of a large triangle. Dead in the center lay the Stone Circle, a group giant stones arranged in a circle. What it lacked in an imaginative name it made up for in size. There were twenty stones, each well over twenty feet tall, each had been lifted upright into place by the ancient druidic preists, well slaves of the ancient druidic priests anyway.

  Theories abounded as to why it had been built.Some scholars felt that it had been an temple where the druids sacrificed to strange gods. Others felt that it was a giant computer, used by the druids to calculate harvest times, and predict the sunrise. still others felt it had been the landing sight for strange beings from other worlds.

  In fact it had been an early shopping mall. The druids felt they could have everyone from all neighboring villages coming to buy wares here, but sadly they hadn’t realized the importance of good anchor stores, and frankly the location hadn’t been so great either. It had been bankrupt within a year.Still like most shopping malls it had a strong magical field and those of an occult persuasion used it as grounds to settle their differences.

  Storm clouds were brewing as Susan landed her broom in the middle the circle. Damien landed his monstrosity of a broom shortly after. Widowmaker rumbled like thunder, Susan had never heard a broom make so much noise before. Damien dressed much the same as he had the night before, except with the addition of a waist length black jacket and his witches hat. Like most witches hats it the crown rose to a high thin point, but where Susan’s hat had the standard broad flat brim, the brim of Damien’s hat dipped slightly in the front and rose slightly on the sides, giving the hat a slightly more masculine appearence. An unwelcome change in Susan’s opinion.

  They stood face to face on the field of battle, Susan’s cloak and Damien’s jacket whipping in the rising winds. Their eyes locked in cold stares. No other soul, save for possibly a druidic ghost, could be found for miles.

  “What are to be the terms of the dual, then?” She asked him.

  “No magic, simple questions and answers. All on herbs,” he replied.”You ask me one,I ask you one.”

  “And the penalty for failure?”

  “Clothing”

  “I beg your pardon!”

  “For each question missed you lose one article of clothing. Both boots count as one item, both stockings as one item. Hats don’t count”.

  “I don’t think so!”

  “Do you accept the terms?”

  “No! Only a man wold have come up with this!”

  “So you concede loss?”

  “What? No!”

  “Accept the terms or concede loss, you know the rule of the dual.” Susan glared at him.”Oh I see your litle game Mister Taft. Don’t think I don’t.”

  He gave her a questioning look.

  “You’ve come up with these ridiculaus little terms thinking I won’t accept and will have to concede loss. Weaseling your way to victory is not very honorable Mister Taft.”

  He shrugged. She gave him a humourless smile. “The joke’s on you Mister Taft. I accept your silly little terms.”

  He smiled, and gave her a deep bow.

  “Let us begin,”Susan said, cracking her knuckles. Her evil smile widened. She’d show him.

  Cold rain splashed against Susan as she flew home, and she really wished the lightening would stop striking. Not that she feared being struck, simply that she didn’t like the illumination it provided.

  One major advantage to being a witch occurred to her. One she’d never thought of before. Namely that flying on a broom and living in an isolated little cottage in the forest gave you a great deal of privacy. Which could be very important if you found yourself coming home in a les than socially acceptable condition.

  For example if you were flying home wearing only a hat and an irritated frown.

  Well she had shown him, she reflected, just quite a bit more than she’d intended to. She landed on her front lawn and as her bare feet raced accross the wet grass she cursed Damien’s name.

  She should have known he’d cheat.

  Chapter 3

  The Proposal of the Journey

  Susan had a few dresses, and several fresh pairs underwear, slips, petticoats, and the like. She even had extra stockings. The loss of these things, while embarassing, presented no major inconveniences.

  However, she’d only had one pair of boots. They’d been damn good boots too, and Susan didn’t know know when she’d have time to get to the cobblers to get another pair made. A good pair took time, usually a couple of weeks. She’d worn her only other shoes, a pair of sandals, but they were slip-ons, and they lacked a back strap to hold them on. Fine for walking, not so good for flying on a broomstick, one now hung from the top of an old oak tree, and the other had badly concussed a local farmer. She’d have to go back to retrieve them later.

  As she landed on Maggie’s front lawn, the young witch came out to greet her. Susan noticed an immediate change in Maggie’s appearence.

  “I see you have a new dress,” Susan remarked. A very familiar dress.

  “Oh, yes m’am,” Maggie said,”Mr. Taft came by this morning and gave it to me. He said appearences are very important for a witch.”

  “Oh really,”

  “Yes m’am”

  “Maggie you need to be wary of Mr. taft. His kind are not to be trusted,” Susan said, feeling the wet grass on the soles of her bare feet. Lousy cheating son of a bitch. She noticed Maggie looking at her feet strangely and for a moment the younger witch looked confused. Then a light went on in Maggie’s face.

  “Oh I get it it,”She said, “A witch draws her strength from the land, so I guess that helps you feel it better.”

  “Er, yes. Yes! That’s it exactly. Good job Maggie,”

  Maggie bent down and began to remove her own boots and stockings. “How long do we need to do this for.”

  “Oh,”Susan said,”Just for a few weeks. Long enough for you to get a feel for the magic.”

  Long enough for Susan to get by the cobblers and get a new pair of boots made. Or visit a certain no good bastard and get her old pair back

  A digression on pick-up lines. Through out the multiverse there are a staggering number of opening conversational gambits, though some like “Hey baby what’s your sign?” don’t work in place like,say, Benalio, whare they have different astrological sign for each separate star and none of them are compatible. Others, like the line about the mirror in the pocket, are fairly common, though m
ost of these require a great deal of alcohol to work properly.

  However, out of every city, on every world in every universe, the single most succesful pick-up line in ever comes from Kua-Kua-Lo,a tiny island with a very big volcano. It works even without alcohol, and if used on Kau-Kau-Lo, is practically guaranteed to work. That line is:

  “Ooh, I hear the volcano god rumbling, I sure hope he isn’t looking for a sacrifice”

  It works very well, even the greasiest ugliest native is knows he’ll have an interesting night if the volcano starts rumbling. Unfortunately, as Chief Kuani-ko discovered it worked a little to well.

  “Not one! ,”He said to High Priest Gunao-ki,”You’re telling me there is not one woman on the island who hasn’t lost her,er, qualifications?”

  “Nope,”said the High priest, shaking his head sadly, “It’s amazing how many people will trade the honor of being thrown into a live volcano, just for a little carnal pleasure.”

  “Young people these days,” said the chief, spitting on the floor of his hut. He gazed out the window of his hut, out at the distant horizon, over the sea. “Maybe …”

  “Sir?”

  “Get up a hunting party, we’ll see what we can find on the mainland.”

  It took her two days to find time to fly back to Gorman. She landed in front of Damiens sausage cottage, pulled her sandals from her purse, it had taken her hours to find them again, and slipped them on. She found him sitting in front of an easel painting a picture of a bridge that crossed the stream behind his home.

  “Good morning Mistress Crone” He said, never turning around.”How are you today?”

  “I see you gave Maggie a dress,”

  “Yes well she needed one,” he replied. “It fit better than her old one, and you know as well as I do a witch is judged by her appearence.”

  He was right, but Susan would never give him the satifaction of admitting it. “What about the rest of it?”

  “Gave most to charity, an orphanage down near Sluy.”He said.

  “Oh,”

  “Except the boots,” He stood, turned and walked towards the back door.

  “What did you do with the boots?” she asked following him into the house. He walked into the living room and sat down.

  “Have as seat.” He said indicating the other end of the sofa. She sat down as far from him as the furniture would allow.

  “My boots, Mr. taft?

  He pointed. She turned and looked. He had mounted them above his fireplace mantle.

  “I thought underwear would have been tacky,” He said. “They’re good boots, well made.”

  “Yes,”

  “Must have been expensive,”

  “Very,” They’d been payment for saving the cobblers family during a plague, and it could be while before the next plague came along. “Mr. Taft I challenge you to a dual.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “A dual, magic wands this time. twenty paces.”

  “Decline.”

  “WHAT?”

  “I decline, “

  “Where’s your pride?”

  “I have my pride, but I’m not very good with wands” he said. “I can admit my shortcomings. Few as they are.”

  “Well,” she said, “you should at least try. Maybe I’m not very good either.”

  “You’d be hard pressed to be worse than I am,” he said. “Besides word about you has spread among the trolls. Very impressive work.”

  “Mr. Taft, I need my boots back, what do I need to do to get them.”

  He sat back and looked at her. “Well I’d need something else to fill in the empty spot over my fireplace. Tell you what, I’m a bit of an artist, how about letting me paint a picture of you.”

  “You mean a portrait?”

  “Actually, I was thinking of a nude study.”

  “Honestly, Mr. Taft, what is this unholy fascination you have with seperating me from my clothing?”

  “Mostly I just like looking at you naked,” he said wth a shrug. “Plus I keep hoping it will lead to sex.”

  “Do you honestly think I’m stupid enough to believe that.” She asked. Susan thought a moment.”Of course. An art spell, you paint the picture and use it to control me, making me do craven things.”

  “Ooh, I hadn’t thought of that, thanks for the idea,”He said.”Though why should I go to all that trouble, when all I really need is a personal effect, y’know like a pair of boots.”

  “They’ve had protection spells cast on them,”She said ““as I’m sure you’ve found out by now. Mr. Taft”

  “Would it kill you to call me Damien?” He asked, ““I think once someone’s seen you naked, you should be on a first name basis with them.”

  “I don’t think so Mr. Taft.” Susan said. “ and it’s not as though I’ve seen you naked.”

  “ Want to?”

  “MR. TAFT!”

  “Oh c’mon,” He stopped a moment. “Actually what is your first name?”

  “I really don’t think you need to know,”

  “Oh,” He said. For a moment they sat in silence. Then with sudden speed Damien reached down and grabbed her ankles. In a moment he had her turned sideways on the sofa, with her ankles resting on his left leg and trapped beneath his right leg. He casually pulled off her sandals.

  “Mr. Taft what are you doing?” she asked stuggling to pull free.

  “Last chance, what’s your name?” he asked.

  “I’m no telling, aaaaahhhhhhh!” She screamed as he began to run his fingers up and down the soles of her feet. She wiggled and tried to kick free, but he had a firm hold. He continued on her feet with his right hand, while he leaned towards her and tickled her sides with his left.

  “What’s your name?”

  “I’m aaahhaha, not gonna tehelllll youuuahhhhha”

  Just as suddenly he stopped. His face scant inches from hers, he looked deeply into her eyes. Susan felt her heart racing as he moved closer.

  “What’s your name?”he asked softly, just before his lips began to brush hers. She could feel his warm breath against her skin and her own heart beating faster. The moment seemed to stretch into infinity.

  She pushed against his chest, and yanked her feet free, falling to the floor in the process. She stood up, found her sandals, and said, “Well if you’re not going to be reasonable Mr.taft, I’ll be off.”

  She walked quickly out the door and grabbed her broom.

  “Good-bye Susan,”Damien called after her.

  She stopped and looked at him.

  “It was written in the waistband of your underwear,” he said, grinning. “I just thought it’d be more fun to get you to tell me.”

  Susan flew without a word. Halfway home she had re-organized her thoughts. The nerve of that man, staring into her eyes like that, probably trying some sort of hypnosis. It was the sort of thing a man-witch would try.

  “Now Maggie, can you tell me the first law of magic?”Susan asked.

  “For every spell there is an opposite and equal counter spell,” Maggie recited.

  “Which means?”

  “Ummmm,” Maggie squinted as she thought, “If you know what spell has been used you can always come up with a cure for it.”

  “Correct,”

  “But…”

  “Yes Maggie?”

  “What if f the spell kills somebody?” Maggie asked.

  “Hmm, theoretically even that can be counteracted,” Susan said, “If you discover the counter spell in time.”

  “How long is that?”

  “It depends on the spell usually no more than forty eight hours,” Susan replied “ And remember you have to know what spell has been used in order to discover the counter spell.”

  “But you could raise the dead,” Maggie asked.

  “As zombies, yes but I don’t recomend it.” Susan answered, “But as for bringing them back to life, only if they died by magic, and only if you know the counter spell.”

  Susan had found that with Maggi
e she sometimes needed to repeat thing several times to get them through the girls’s head. Not that Maggie was stupid, far from it. Clumsy yes, stupid no, but she had a tendency to seize upon a thought and not let it go, distracting her from the main point of the lesson. Still as the days went by and the more Susan thought about training Maggie, the more she realized the benefits. While it added an extra load to an already busy shedule, eventually the villagers of Ghast could begin to see their own witch again, rather than coming up to see Susan. Right now she had far to many patients to deal with.

  But Susan discovered a more personal benefit. She hadn’t realized how much she’d missed talkng about the craft with someone. Witches are not, as a rule, social creatures, and villagers tended to avoid them except as needed. Even if they didn’t, Susan could never have discussed the craft with them. Only a witch could be interested in how exactly the eyes of different types of newts affected different spells, or a good substitute for tongue of bat. Talking to Maggie about these thing could actually be fun.

  It also helped that Maggie well exceded Susan’s expectations for her, not that it would have taken much. She had held fairly low hopes for the girl, but Maggie seemed to pick up on things quickly.

  Other than a natural clumsiness that bordered on supernatural, Susan’s only disappointment had been Maggie’s total failure with the broom.

  However the problem of Damien Taft remained. Maggie seemed fond of him and he visited her at least once a week, though Susan made sure to be there to supervise. Susan knew enough to not forbid Maggie from seeing him. Maggie was a witch after all and you only forbid a witch to something if you wanted make sure she did it. Certainly, she reasoned, once he learned that he’d be unable to get to the girl without seeing Susan Crone, he’d stop coming around. Unfortunately, the message hadn’t gotten through yet. In fact he seemed to welcome her presence.

  He probably did it to spite her.

  Of course he had the most infuriating way of seeming to be genuinely interested in Maggie’s progress. He would sit and talk about the girls lessons with her, discussing what she’d learned, almost as if he could actually understand them. He gave no hint of an ulterior motive, which made Susan distrust him more. A person without ulterior motives hid them well.