Mearsies Heili Bounces Back

by Sherwood Smith

  In later records, there’s more about that, so I’m not going to dump a load of political talk into this part of my adventures. Snore! Especially since it all changed practically as fast as the sun rose and set.

  Here’s what mattered to us. We crossed one of those duchies, a really beautiful mountainside place where the people grow leddas, that gets turned into weave, out of which is made boots and shoes and belts and harnesses and so forth. Leddas grows alongside rivers and streams. The really fine stuff out of which they make these satiny-looking shoes grows high up beside streams. It costs a lot because it’s rare.

  Okay, enough of that. We earned our way by helping pull this stuff, so we learned a little about it, but we weren’t allowed to see how they made it nice and flexible and rainproof, or how they wove it. That part was all secret.

  But the people were nice, and they liked visitors. In fact they liked visitors a lot because they almost never got any. So when word went down the mountain that kids had come through, one a princess, one who danced, and one freckle-faced redhead, (etc) well, you get the idea.

  Whom! We were on a road bucketing north when we walked smack into a trap ... and it was another set of those brown guys!

  This time the foofoo in charge was an old geez who had magic. When we were brought before him, he said something in another lingo, and the translator turned to scowl at us. “You are Mearsieans?”

  “No,” I said. “American.”

  “French!” Klutz declared.

  “Vive la France,” Id bellowed.

  “Australian,” Gwen said.

  “Toaran,” Seshe stated, making me snerk—that was the name of our entire continent!

  Puddlenose looked at the ceiling, and Sherry at the floor.

  “You’re all liars,” the geez snarled, and I hated him from that moment.

  He unloosed a speech guaranteed to scare the kiddies—and I tuned him out, trying to whistle. He wanted our cooperation ... blah blah ... Or Else. I had my hands in my skirt pockets by then.

  “One of you knows magic,” he said nastily. “If we have to, we’ll start breaking arms until we find out.”

  “I do,” I said.

  He looked disappointed—he’d been looking at the two tall ones. Probably thought they’d know more.

  Then he tried being nice, offering me a place and promotion if I’d do ‘a favor’ for him in the duchy we’d just been at. When I whistled again, he tried a threat by casting a spell over my friends.

  It was just an illusion, but it was supposed to scare me. I promptly cast one over his flunkies.

  He did it again—I did it again—then I realized he was testing my magic! So when he was in the middle of his next spell, I pulled out the full bottle of blue stuff, and threw it over them all, as they were standing in a row.

  They shrank down to a tiny size, yelling and screaming.

  Puddlenose swept them up into a bag, and cinched it tight.

  I took the time to make the invisibility spell for each of us, which meant we had to move silently and quietly, so the other senses don’t cause people to look at the smear of light around us. We were in the border castle, so we didn’t have far to go to the good people, where we left the clod and his flunkies for them to figure out what to do with.

  Then we took another road in the other direction, hoping to avoid the border, but word had gotten around that we’d escaped—with the mage.

  And so ... we walked into another trap.

  Only this time, it was made by the real bad guys.

  o0o

  You know you’re being bagged by extra-special stinkeroos when they grab the scruff of your shirt and catch your hair in it. And if you squawk, they think it’s funny.

  Well, these slobs put the grab on us and stuck bags over our heads, then they wrapped rope around us, so we couldn’t do much besides wriggle. And pocalube.

  Then came a billion hour ride over a road designed for the worst possible jouncing and jolting. I felt like a bag of nails and woodchips when we FINALLY got somewhere that felt dank and cold and smelled mossy even through that blasted bag.

  I was headachy and out of sorts as well as starving and thirsty when I got yanked off the horse, muscled along a few thousand miles of slimy, nasty stone corridor, and then into what felt like a gigantic fridge. It was cold, dank, smelled like a weird cross between moldy stone and old laundry.

  The bag was pulled off—taking a hank of my hair with it.

  I blinked away the sting, and stared at a geez on a throne. The geez looked a lot like Kwenz—same goggle eyes, only ten times meaner. Those terrible eyes were going to enter my nightmares for a very long time to come.

  Danger made my neck prickle, and I looked away. The throne room was lit by torchlight high up—magically burning torches. There was absolutely no decoration of the sort I was used to. No statues, or tapestries, or big wall paintings or murals, no mosaics or tiles.

  But the way the place was built was on lines different from other places I’d been, yet familiar from the Shadow, and even in some of the older buildings in MH. There was a kind of horizontal line to big spaces, and here and there faint curving lines, especially at corners.

  Anyway, I looked around blearily until the geez made a sign and one of the guards yanked my hair so I faced forward.

  “Who are you?” the geez asked. His voice was rusty-low, and angry.

  “Peedlepie Snockarilla.”

  He made that sign again and this time the guard smacked the side of my head.

  “Who are you.”

  “I thought you already knew who I was, or I wouldn’t be stuck in this—”

  “I know you call yourself a ‘princess.’” He made a short, violent motion. “Who are you? Where did you come from? How did you insinuate yourself into that white-haired brat’s confidence?”

  I wanted to mouth off, but I didn’t want to get hit again. So I just glared.

  The old geez muttered, frowned, muttered again. I felt the prickly/itchy sense of magic, then it snapped away. The old geez stepped down from the dais, scowled at me—then snatched the crown off my head and flung it against the far wall! Did he think it had magical protections on it?

  He shuffled back to his throne, breathing like he’d run miles. He said something in Chwahir to his flunkeys, too low for me to catch, but I thought I got the words ‘the boy’ in there somewhere.

  What boy?

  A heavy mitt clamped down on my shoulder and off we bucketed back into the mossy hall and then down, down, down into an enormous dungeon. Water dripped and plinked all around—the air smelled heavy with mold.

  We didn’t go far. Later I’d learn that meant they expected to be hauling you out again soon.

  Cre-e-e-ak! The door screeched open on rusty hinges, and I was shoved inside. The rope still was wrapped around me so I stumbled, but Sherry and Gwen caught me.

  “Oh CJ you look awful,” Sherry whispered. “Where were you?”

  The light in that part of the dungeon was a nasty, smeary color, like a very smoggy morning with extra haze. Smelled even worse than LA, too. Later we’d discover that some cells were left in the dark, when people were left to rot. But the light—such as it was—was there in our part of the dungeon so the guards could see the prisoners.

  I blew at the hair hanging in my face.

  “That sack musta been full of real moldy stuff,” Gwen said, holding her nose. “Because you’re wearing most of it now.”

  “Great. Looks like the rest of you are too,” I added, taking them in. Everybody was blotched with green and brown smears. “Anyway, some old geez wanted to yap at me about Clair. Guy is off his nut.”

  Sherry’s eyes were huge and round. “CJ, this is Chwahirsland. Puddlenose’s uncle lives here.”

  “What? That’s impossible! I thought we were far away.”

  “He is and we weren’t.”

  We all looked at the back of the cell, where Puddlenose, Klutz, Seshe, and Id had fallen asleep. ‘The boy’ had to be
Puddlenose.

  Gwen said in a low voice, “He wanted to know if he looked different than when he first came to us.”

  Sherry whispered, “On account of they didn’t recognize him. What with him being lots taller, and his hair shaggier, and all the grime on his face.”

  “We gotta keep him from being found out,” Gwen said.

  “The geez muttered something about a boy. He must figure we’ve got Puddlenose hidden at home, or something.”

  Gwen fell silent, then. She was worried sick.

  I said to Sherry, “That geez must be King Shnit of the Chwahir.”

  Everybody nodded.

  “And he’s gonna try to find out from you where Puddlenose is,” Sherry whispered.

  “Gulp.” I gulped.

  o0o

  They brought in stale bread that was obviously left over from all those guards’ dinner. I mean, a couple of the hard, dry rolls had bites taken out of them. Euw. But we were so hungry we ate them anyway. I figured germs didn’t have a chance in that cold dungeon.

  Because they’d left us all tied up, and they dumped the bread on the ground, we had to go at it like a bunch of worms. Klutz and Id couldn’t help laughing, though it was the crazy laughter you get when you’re scared.

  Puddlenose didn’t say anything to anybody.

  After that disgusting meal, we three girls tried to find a spot less dank than the rest of the stones of the floor (hah!) and curled up in a kind of puppy pile for warmth. It felt like I’d just fallen asleep (and straight into barfacious dreams) when somebody shook me.

  “They’re coming.”

  I had just enough time to wipe my chin on my grimy shoulder (I’d been drooling, ugh!) before the clods came clanking in and put the grab on us.

  Slog, slog, slog, back to that throne room. It took extra-long because it’s very hard to walk when you can’t use your hands.

  Shnit waved a hand and this time the goons separated off the mayors and me.

  Shnit looked around with those goggle eyes, as though sniffing, then zeroed in on their mayor necklaces. So much for carefully guarding them! He got up, reached a gnarled hand with unkempt, yellowing fingernails like talons, and grabbed the necklaces. Just as the point where the chains would cut their necks they snapped, and he flung the things away into the gloom, where they landed with a faint chinggg!

  “Those are badges of office,” Shnit snarled in that rusty wheeze. “And my brother reports that that fool has put children in charge. She’s begging to have that kingdom brought down. We will comply. But first. What did she do with my heir?”

  “I don’t know who your heir is,” I said. “I never saw you before in my life!”

  “You do know,” Shnit said in a slow, nasty tone. “You know because my brother reports that the heir to Chwahirsland—and to your own land—has been seen not long ago in the wooded area outside that cursed Shadow your people forced him into.”

  You got yourself a Shadow here all your own, I thought. For once I managed not to mouth off.

  He gestured with a hand about my height. “Your size. Yellow-brown hair. About your age.”

  That had to be what Puddlenose had looked like a couple of years before, or whenever the creeps had had him last.

  I said, “All I know is, Clair’s cousin is not a Chwahir. So he can’t be anybody’s heir except hers, and—” I was just about to say that I was her heir, but then decided not to remind this disgusting villain.

  “You think you are?” he said nastily, and uttered a wheezy noise that I think was supposed to be a laugh. “The boy’s guardian surrendered him to me. It is a whim of mine, to adopt him as heir. You would gain a great reward by furnishing his whereabouts. He is missing, and we are worried that something has happened to him.”

  At first I thought he’d completely gone off his coconut, but then I realized he was actually trying to be nice. Nice ... and lying, of course.

  “I’m sure he’s far away from Mearsies Heili,” I said.

  Shnit motioned to a couple of his head flunkeys. They had a mumbling conference. I snuck a peek at Puddlenose, who was hunched, his mouth hanging open, his skin around the smudges pale with worry.

  Shnit finally said in Chwahir, “Take them away.” And to me, in Mearsiean, “If you do not cooperate, we’ll make a public trial and a messy death. Let that news get back to the brat.”

  Everybody looked at me. I just stared back at Shnit. Truth is, I was too scared to talk. I knew I’d squeak. So I glared, instead.

  Shnit seemed to know I was scared, because his face changed into what I think was supposed to be a smile. His face was horribly bony—he’d been extending his life by black magic for a while, and it showed. He hadn’t bothered with the beard spell for ages, or cut his hair, so hair and beard were white and long and scraggly. “Have you anything to say?”

  It was such a smug, knowing tone, I couldn’t stand it. I was already in as much trouble as possible, so I snarled as rudely as I could, “Pig guts and cornpone.”

  Back we went, and it took forever because of the balance problem. At least, this time, when we got back to the cell, the clods took away the ropes. We rubbed sore skin and stretched.

  Puddlenose looked really upset. “CJ, I could hear ’em. They were talking in guard lingo, they’re going to surprise you and throw questions at you.”

  I thought, if it really, really gets bad, I’ve got my ring. But I didn’t say it, just in case they could somehow spy out my words. My hands had been in my skirt folds before, because of the ropes. My necklace was still safely inside my shirt, which had a high collar, so none of it showed, unlike the linked chains Klutz and Id had worn. I had to make sure these magical protections never got noticed.

  “I’m just going to lie like a rug.” I shrugged, trying not to show how worried I was.

  “But they’ll try to catch you in lies.” Puddlenose didn’t hide his worry. “One thing there’s a lot of here, and that’s prisoners. You have no idea how many laws and rules against doing anything without permission there are. Shnit likes punishments, it’s his favorite entertainment.”

  “All right, then let’s make up a story. We’ll go over all the details, so we all know it.”

  And we did.

  “If there was just some water,” Dhana whispered finally. She breathed in and turned around. “Almost enough ... but not quite.”

  “I’ll ask for some,” Sherry said. “Next time they come.”

  We settled down to try to sleep. Once again I started to snooze, but it felt like five minutes had passed before they were back, and I got yanked out, Sherry’s voice high and clear behind me.

  “... water! Please? Just a bucket? We’ll all share it!”

  Clang! Went the door.

  Off I went to a room where a grizzle-haired guy behind a desk started in with the questions. They didn’t let me sit down, just kept asking the questions over and over and over, and I was glad that we’d made up that story. No use in describing how awful that was.

  Or the next time.

  Or the next.

  Each time I fingered that ring when they made me slog back into the klink. The others saved some of the disgusting food for me, which I’d eat as fast as I could so I wouldn’t have to taste it. Then I’d try to sleep—but then it would happen again. Usually Sherry’s voice followed, when she begged for water. One time she yelled, “I want water! His feet stink!”

  “Hey,” Id yelled. “That stink is your feet!”

  “Yours!” everybody else hooted and howled and bellowed.

  I never noticed when Dhana vanished, just, finally they tried sticking me in a room by myself. I guess I was supposed to be scared, but I was so tired I just wanted to sleep.

  Well, sure enough, Shnit decided to amuse himself with holding a trial. Only I was so tired I couldn’t follow half of what they were saying, only that the crimes of trespass, insolence, and a bunch of other gunk must either be punished by hanging or burning. But I could get clemency by cooperation, if I
just told them where The Heir was hiding.

  I kept my hands down in my skirts, sniffed (I had a juicy cold by then) and thought, If I have to leave the others, I will ... but only if they’re really going to croak me. Clair would be so mad at me if I let them do that!

  Back into the clink for me, to prepare (how do you prepare for anything in a barren cell?) for Execution At Dawn.

  EIGHT

  “Halfway: Pirates Ahoy!”

  Well, you know I didn’t get sent to the Pearly Gates (or, ahem, to the Barbeque of Doom) because I’m writing this. Of course, you don’t know if I’m writing this as a ghost.

  Well, anyway, I mentioned I hadn’t noticed that Dhana had vanished, because Sherry had finally gotten her bucket of water. They’d used half of it to drink, but left their faces grimy on Puddlenose’s account. Then the clods took the water away ... with Dhana in it.

  Her idea was to somehow find her way back home. If she had to swim the oceans, she would, though she did not like salt water. But no sooner had she swum down the channel the castle had cut through to drain its rain runoff to the river outside the walls, when she saw some figures sneaking up to the walls.

  She’d been watching the river side, her old habit. That’s how she’d gotten interested in humans in the first place—watching Clair and Sherry playing around near the Lake.

  So when she saw these obviously non-Chwahir sneaking around, out she popped, nearly scaring them to death. Suddenly they were holding weapons, but she said impatiently, “What are you doing?”

  She said it in Mearsiean.

  The lead pirate gaped, then said quickly, “So there are Mearsieans inside! Our contact said that they had children from the homeland imprisoned.”

  “You’re from MH?” she said.

  The fellows looked at one another, then one said, “A few of us. But we’re here to rescue them, if we can find our way to them.”

  Another held up a tool. “We have means to get through locks. But finding the prisoners, that is our difficulty.”