Mearsies Heili Bounces Back

by Sherwood Smith

  “I agree.”

  “So what was that about PJ?”

  Clair’s eyes went wide. “I still can’t believe I didn’t tell you. Well, it’s been so long, and we wanted to catch up on your story ... but Fobo is gone.”

  “Gone?”

  “Yes.”

  “Like ... gone for good?”

  “She is back with her brother, in Elchnudaeb.”

  “PJ, too?”

  “And all his toady friends. Remember I told you I expected the Wood Guild from Sartor?”

  “Yes.”

  “They came to demand my explanation of why an entire forest had been cut down. I told them that Glotulae did it, after she took over that land. They wanted to know then why it had not been reported, as it violated all the rules of living in the world. I explained about my mother, and me becoming queen after all this happened, and they asked for corroboration from Ka Nos of Seram Aru. And then ... they left.”

  “And?”

  “The next thing I saw was, a huge wagon train going north toward the border. That was the Auknuges. They told me that the area is to be left to heal.”

  “So the Squashed Wedding Cake is to become a ghost town?”

  “I don’t know about ghost towns. That land is again part of Mearsies Heili. But no one will settle there.”

  “Hurray!” I yelled.

  And went to bed smiling.

  ELEVEN

  The U.N.C.L.E.S. vs. the A.U.N.T.I.E.S.!

  To celebrate being back, we played a big game of hide and seek the next day, after our practice, only Faline wrecked it by laughing at Puddlenose, who was wearing that plumed hat when he was It. He found her, and since we were playing a team game, that meant her team lost.

  To prevent a big argument our first day back (it was hot, so Dhana was in a Mood, and Irene was still sour about having been left out of the adventure) I said, “Let’s go see the deserted Squashed Wedding Cake.”

  So we did. The town was pretty well stripped bare—right down to the stone. All the wood was gone. The buildings were odd, seen this way. Skeletal. Stone is the bone of buildings.

  Diana said, “I’ve seen Wood Guild badges on some of the wagons coming through our forest.”

  “They must be sending people to reclaim the wood,” Seshe said. “Excellent.”

  We passed the last of the houses, and stopped in shock. There was the big square, and beyond, the Squashed Wedding Cake. It was a trash heap. Stuff lay everywhere—silk cushions, ruined in rain, broken furniture, dishes, everything. But all over the place were people picking things up, shaking them out, sometimes talking, sorting, and loading wagons.

  “It’s like ants,” Faline said in surprise.

  “The materials were good ones,” Irene said. “That pretty honey-colored stone that made the ugly daisies in the floor—if you took that away, and scraped off the orange lacquer, it could be pretty in a walkway.”

  Irene was the one who paid most attention to things like fashion and taste.

  “You’re right,” I said. “I’m going to tell Clair, but I bet she won’t mind this. In fact, it’s probably a good thing.”

  Seshe smiled. “And when it is done, I hope the Wood Guild returns to reseed what was once the North Forest. I would like to see that.”

  We agreed, and returned.

  I reported to Clair about the scavengers, and she grinned. “They aren’t living there, so the Wood Guild people are happy. And all the things the Auknuges spoiled will be used again, eventually, in other form.”

  I nodded and left, thinking about that on my way down.

  I mean, I often think about these records—who will read them in the future? A kid? A grownup? Why are they reading my words? What memories do they have that are different than mine, or the same?

  That means there’s a kind of agreement between us, even if we never get to meet: here’s me writing the words down for you, and you picking them up and reading them. I’m trying to pick what’s best of the story of my life, all our lives, and you’re taking time out of your own life story to tuck mine in with your own memories.

  Well, for the first time I thought about all that stuff in the Squashed Wedding Cake. Things have their own story. The Squashed Wedding Cake was just there, when I first saw it. That is, people had been busy adding statues and stuff, but when I saw it, things were pretty much already there. Yet lots of hands had made all that stuff. Had they liked cutting that honey-colored stone into the big orange daisy shapes? Had they talked and laughed while making the floor? Had they liked looping lace over marble? Maybe all those things would be taken away, now, and to form a different story in different buildings.

  Well, I don’t know where that thought’s going, just as I don’t know where all that wood and rock and silk is going!

  o0o

  So time passed, and I made sure we practiced. As usual, we were great at first, then we’d skip days when a patrol took an extra-long time, or the weather was terrible, or something else was going on. I longed to try my Shoe. We spotted Jilo, and I wanted to throw mud and pies at them to make sure they stayed away, but Clair had said to leave them alone unless they were inside the forest and poking around, or wrecking something.

  Since they stayed at the very edge of our territory, we just watched from a distance, without letting them see us.

  Puddlenose got restless. He kept saying how fine it was that we’d given him a room in the Junky, but more and more he was gone from it. He never crabbed at Clair about how slow it was to find that magic. Puddlenose, like Clair, just didn’t crab. But one day we turned up for breakfast, and he was gone.

  Clair said when she came in, “My cousin went off to see if he can learn swordfighting somewhere, and how to be a caravan leader.”

  “He’ll be back.” Sherry laughed. “I wonder how much of those Lord Snord things he’ll still have?”

  “I vote for those silly boots.” Faline stomped around in a circle. “I wanted them!”

  “They were way too big.” Irene rolled her eyes.

  “Yeah! Think how funny they would be in a play!”

  “I like that big hat with the plumes.” Sherry fluffed her fingers above her curls. “I wish I’d gotten one.”

  “I’m disappointed about my sash plan,” I said.

  “Well, we could always travel to Elchnudaeb and sneak in and see what it’s like there,” Irene suggested. “Hey, especially if Fobo is no longer the ‘queen.’”

  “Not a bad idea.” Diana tipped her head.

  The rest agreed.

  o0o

  So anyway, time did what time does, without our paying much attention. No worrying about birthdays making a teenager out of me, ha ha! The weather turned colder, and some big storms came through. First the forest turned a glorious color, and then another storm knocked all the leaves into scarlet and flame and yellow and rust and amber piles that we played in for days before they darkened into soggy mulch, and the ground began to get frosty. It was time for shoes.

  Then snow season came, and the days were darker. We spent more time up at the White Palace, except when we patrolled. And we did patrol, because we spotted the Chwahir more often.

  Just after New Year’s, Clair traveled around to the different mayors to see how everything was. They reported things quiet—except for Klutz and Id, who’d spotted Chwahir riding around.

  Clair was visited by Guild people. One evening she joined us in the Junky, grinning.

  “What’s funny?” I asked. “Fobo turned into a cactus?”

  It was an old joke, so I was surprised when Clair said, “Actually, it’s about Fobo. Line reports from the Torns that people in Elchnudaeb are unhappy. First, there is a very very large penalty the king must pay to the Wood Guild. They have to pay for our forest to be reseeded.”

  “Hurray!” we cheered.

  “But Fobo does not seem to care. Her brother has to worry about the cost, it seems, while she keeps trying to take over the kingdom. That is, she wants more taxes so she
can build her own palace, and people don’t bow enough, and she doesn’t have enough servants, and she keeps him from marrying.”

  “Hah!”

  After we’d cackled over that, someone said, “Let’s have a story, CJ!”

  “A contest!”

  It was definitely play, skit, and story time. As winter wore on we got involved in stories that lasted days, and we held contests as well as planned and performed skits. But every so often the others just liked a short, ridiculous story, and those were either my department or Faline’s. And she didn’t tell stories so much as jokes. So I did the stories. And what could be more ridiculous than Earth, especially stories about Earth TV?

  Spring came at last, and the land budded and blossomed. But cold rains kept us in a lot. Then came a week long storm. Everyone’s temper had worn thin (except Dhana’s) so we mostly did funny plays and stories.

  I wrote up some of my dumb stories as if they were real, because what made the girls love them most was the fact that I put them into the story. I’m keeping this one partly because the girls loved it (I told different versions when different girls wanted to be in it) and partly because the night after I told this version, the next big adventure hit.

  We gathered down in the Junky, hot chocolate in hand and a bowl of whipped cream in the center of the rug, rain roaring on the ground overhead.

  o0o

  So Clair sent a message on the M.P.

  Girls: Earth is in big trouble. There’s a master villain named Tinfinger who is going to take over the planet. Will you go defeat this terrible villain?

  I turned to the girls. “Who wants to visit Earth, and defeat a terrible villain named Tinfinger?”

  “Do we get any help?” Seshe asked, amid the hoots and hollers of the others.

  I asked Clair, and read back the answer, “You will have the aid of a secret organization of spies, called U.N.C.L.E.. Who wants in on this adventure? All right, Gwen, Diana, Irene, and Faline, get ready.”

  “Hey, why not me?”

  “Yeah, I haven’t been in one of your stories for a thousand years!”

  “I’m only picking those who didn’t get stuck on the last one, plus Gwen, because she hasn’t caught up yet. So be quiet and listen.”

  The four girls and I got ready to leave, when another note came from Clair:

  By the way, the villain is part of a secret sinister organization called T.H.R.U.S.H. Remember that.

  Before we went through the World Gate, I read it out to the girls, and everybody committed it to memory: “Thrush, thrush, thrush,” except for Faline, who kept saying, “Smush, Grush, Splush.”

  “And I would, too!” Faline yelled.

  “We KNOW,” Irene groaned. “Quiet!”

  “I can’t help it, I just love it when she makes me talk like me!”

  While Faline was still muttering rhymes for T.H.R.U.S.H., I used Clair’s special secret magical transfer, and we zapped down to Earth through the World Gate, and ended up in an enormous city, with streets made of cement—

  “What’s cement again?” Dhana asked.

  “It’s rock made into pancake batter and hardened into shapes,” Diana snapped. “She told us that before.”

  “I thought she was making that up.”

  —and tall buildings all around that almost blocked the sky. Everywhere beeped and blared long cars with fins on the backs to make them look like rockets. The stink of diesel and car exhaust and cigarettes made the air thick and blue-gray.

  “It was too late,” Irene intoned, making gagging noises. “The villains already took over, and they were poisoning the people!”

  “Nope, that’s just traffic and grownups,” Gwen said, from experience. “Soon’s you turn sixteen you have to smoke and drive.”

  “AHEM!” I warned, giving Irene the Hairy Fish-eye.

  I said to my team of girl spies, “C’mon, there’s a clothing store. Let’s go in and pick outfits so we can disguise ourselves as Earth kids.”

  Irene was the only one who got excited over this. But she was soon puzzled by the bell-bottom jeans, angel tops, and the striped and fringed mini dresses.

  Faline picked something with giant orange polka dots. It was a mini dress, but she also picked green bell bottoms with fringes to go underneath. Her regular crimson sash would hold up the pants. Irene picked a top with long flowing sleeves in a paisley print, Diana got a t-shirt and jeans, and Gwen and I also got t-shirts. I picked what they called a granny skirt, just a long skirt in layers.

  As we were walking out, some teenagers came in, and as soon as Faline spotted their beehive hairdos, she insisted she get one, too.

  Pause for the girls to stop laughing.

  Dhana muttered, “You forgot the go-go boots.”

  Faline whispered, “Please make us talk.”

  “She ALWAYS does.” Irene sighed loudly.

  We walked outside, and I did a transformation spell on our Mearsiean clothes, so they turned into the Earth clothes. I added a gigantic beehive hairdo for Faline, her red curls standing up in a kind of crimpled red helmet. It looked like that weird movie, The Bride of Frankenstein, only red instead of black and white.

  She kept patting it happily. “You could hide a badger in this!” she exclaimed.

  “And you would hide a badger in your hair because ...” Irene prompted.

  “You just never know when you might need one,” Faline said stubbornly.

  Faline clapped but didn’t interrupt. Irene fumed at me, but also stopped interrupting.

  “C’mon, let’s go. There’s the secret entrance.” I gave it the ol’ thumb.

  We crossed the street, and there was the Del Floria Cleaners.

  “What do they clean?” Faline asked.

  “Clothes.”

  “Where’s the water?”

  “Isn’t any.”

  “I thought you said they don’t have magic here!”

  “They don’t. They have chemicals.”

  “Eeeeuw!”

  “Eeeeeeuuuw!” the girls echoed, like always.

  We all piled into one of the dressing rooms. “Why do they have dressing rooms in a cleaner’s?” Irene asked, but I made a spell to imitate the secret access way, and fazoom! There we were, outside the main entrance to U.N.C.L.E. HQ.

  The door was just a flat door.

  “Hey, what kinda of scuzzoon door is this, with no knob!” Diana exclaimed.

  We shoved, kicked, and punched, and finally I did a mighty spell. The door cracked and then fell into a billion pieces, and we stepped through.

  Inside was an office with important-looking sci fi fluorescent lights glaring a sick sort of blue-white. The office also had lots of steel corridors and rooms with miles and miles of stern-looking mainframe computers, their tape-wheels busy whirling, and IBM cards fluttering sinisterly from one slot to another, while lights blinked and other machines made ominous beedledy-boop noises.

  There were three men inside the main chamber. One old, who had two giant moles on his face, and two younger. They were busy talking, and at first didn’t notice us.

  “She didn’t forget the moles!” Faline wheezed, writhing on the rug.

  “SHHHH!” the girls said, sounding like a forest fire.

  “Another word, and I turn you into a mole,” I warned. “On Kwenz’s big toe.”

  “You can’t turn people into things!”

  “Black magic can,” I said. “And I’m going to learn some just for you!”

  “Sorry, sorry. I won’t talk again, if you make me talk in the story.”

  “What a weird disguise,” Faline muttered out of the side of her mouth.

  “He just takes the moles off when he doesn’t want to be noticed, of course,” Irene muttered back.

  “What if he forgets where he put them? Would the villains notice if he had one on his nose and his chin, then next time on his forehead and lip?”

  The men turned to stare at us.

  “Who are you?” demanded Mole Man. “And how
did you get in here?”

  One of the younger men was dark-haired, with a conceited face, his cleft chin sort of aimed at us as if we smelled. The other man had shaggy blond hair.

  “That one’s got bird lips,” Faline whispered.

  “Bird lips? He doesn’t have a beak,” Diana whispered back, as Gwen and Faline snickered.

  I said, “Hi, you U.N.C.L.E.S. We’re the A.U.N.T.I.E.S.!”

  “A.U.N.T.I.E.S.?”

  “Yes! Another Unwanted Network of Terribly Insane Eggbrains! We’re allies of yours, battling ... uh, W.O.O.D.P.E.C.K.E.R.”

  “W.O.O.D.P.E.C.K.E.R? Never heard of that outfit,” the conceited one said suspiciously.

  The blond said, “T.H.R.U.S.H. is our bird.”

  “By cracky.” I snapped my fingers. “That’s it. We’re fighting T.H.R.U.S.H.”

  “By Bie,” Faline whispered, a salute to Klutz’s sister, Bie Crakkee.

  “You are?” Mole Man asked, in total disbelief.

  “Yes.” I snuck a look around in my best spy manner. “We’re in disguise. Now ... we’ve been sent to help you, so tell us your names.”

  They looked at each other, shrugged, and the old geez with the giant moles said, “I am Alexander Waverly.”

  “His code name will be Wavey,” I whispered to the girls.

  “Napoleon Solo.”

  “Neopolitan Duet,” I muttered.

  The girls repeated the new code names.

  “Ilya Kuriakin.”

  “Pilya Kluttlespin!”

  Gwen elbowed me. “Can we call him Pill for short?”

  “Yes.” To the men, I said in my most businesslike manner, “So, Wavey, Nap, and Pill, here’s the report from our spies at A.U.N.T.I.E. You’ve heard of T.H.R.U.S.H. I take it?”

  “We’ve only come across them a few thousand times this year,” Nap drawled, brushing his fingers at us as if scooting crickets. “Run along and play.”

  “That all?” I countered cleverly. “Well, according to our sources, they have a plan to overthrow this world, through Tinfinger. We are here to foil their dastardly plan.”

  “Go away. Your mother is calling you,” Nap said wearily.

  “How did you know all this?” Wavey asked.