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[Laufey]

Chapter 8 - Cooking Habits Of A Crone

Dekaras had heard stories of Baba Yaga of course. They were the kind of stories traditionally meant to frighten children into obedience, and that usually have them listening raptly at all the goriest details. He couldn’t remember a single one of the moral lessons that the stories were supposed to teach him, but he could remember Baba Yaga, and was fascinated to see that she was even more horrifying in the flesh.

Baba Yaga was an ancient crone, but it was very clear that she wasn’t a human one. Her long and hooked nose almost bumped into her equally oversized chin, large and sharp tusks protruded from between her black lips, her warty skin was a strange shade of gray, and her eyes were a clear yellow, and resembled those of a snake. At her hip he could just barely make out something small, something that flickered in and out of sight, glowing with a faint silvery light. Shaggy hair, the bright red of blood, hung like a wild mane about her face, and her hands had nasty claws that were currently digging painfully into his shoulder as she lifted him off the ground to peer directly into his face and give him a full taste of rotting-meat-breath.

I wonder if she’s an ogress? His mind was strangely calm, an odd lucidity past the realm of fear. Or a hag? She can’t be human, that’s for sure, not with that nose. I wonder if she really eats people? I wonder if it hurts a lot…

“What have we here?” Baba Yaga said. “Little mice on the roof turn out to be guests, nice little guests for old Baba Yaga. What do they want, hmmm?”

“Um…” the boy said, his brain frantically trying to come up with a good excuse. “We’ve…we’ve heard ever so much about you, wise Old Mother. In all of Rasheman there is nobody wiser in the ways of magic than Baba Yaga, everybody knows that.”

“Yep!” Poppy agreed, her legs dangling in the air as she too was held aloft. “That’s right! Wisest of all, that’s what we heard!”

“Yes, and we thought we might come here to learn your secrets and benefit from your great wisdom, oh magnificent Baba Yaga!” I really wish she’d put me down. This is embarrassing.

“Really?” Baba Yaga asked, sounding interested. “My great wisdom, is it? Exactly what was it you wanted to know?”

Dekaras found himself fighting a horribly overpowering urge to say ‘How come you can eat with your chin bumping into your nose like that?’ and only just barely managed not to. He really didn’t want to remind Baba Yaga of the subject of eating. “We…want to know the future!” he eventually said. That sounded nice and vague enough. “Can you tell us?”

The crone’s yellow eyes narrowed to mere slits and she smiled unpleasantly. “I could,” she said. “I can tell anybody’s fortune except my own. But why should I? It is far more tempting to feast upon your little juicy selves, with some nice garlic sauce and plums…”

“You don’t want to eat us!” Poppy protested. “We’re…we’re poisonous! See, we’re in assassin training, and that means we get to eat little itty-bitty bits of poison every day, so we can stand it and not get poisoned ourselves, but it makes us taste really bad and probably we’d give you a bad stomach-ache.”

The young Dekaras gave his friend a surreptitious look. She sounded perfectly sincere, but of course she was lying. Though some of the adult assassins did build up a resistance to various poisons that way, the children weren’t allowed to. Not that he hadn’t tried of course, using a filched supply of arsenic, but a slight miscalculation had led to him being bedridden for a week, and to being punished with kitchen duties for a month once he was finally strong enough to move about without throwing up. Unfair. I was that close, I would have got it right eventually. How am I ever supposed to become hardened to common poisons if I’m not allowed to experiment a little?

Baba Yaga pursed her black lips together. “Poison, is it?” she said. “I wouldn’t want to risk upsetting my lovely stomach. Very well. Boiling you for a few hours should drain the poison out."

"Wait!" the boy protested. "You can't do that!"

The flat yellow eyes bored into his own. "Can't I, now? And why would you say that, hmmm?"

"Well, that would completely spoil the taste, wouldn't it? We'd be all overcooked and you wouldn't enjoy the meal at all. You'd be far better off leaving us alone for a few days before eating us."

The hag nodded. "Yes. Good point. Garlic will help, but it would be a shame to spoil such tender young morsels. And I'd rather have you baked in the oven than cooked anyway…come with me then, my tasty ones. And as for your fortune, I can tell you one thing already. It will be short.

With that, she stuffed one child under each arm and headed deeper into the hut. Her grip was very strong, and struggling proved to be quite fruitless. The inside of Baba Yaga’s cottage seemed strangely large, much vaster than the outside had been, and mostly dark. Despite their precarious situation, the children spotted many strange things, some wondrous, some terrifying. There were herbs hanging from the ceiling, and strange runes and markings scratched into the floor, some of which seemed to be painted in blood. There were disgusting things floating about in jars, and stuffed animals watching with glassy eyes from shelves high up on the walls, walls that climbed upwards into infinity. And there…there was a stuffed human man as well, right between a young bear and a goat. He was sitting there on the shelf, skin a little cracked and dusty from age, staring blindly at nothing. The young Dekaras swallowed heavily as he saw that. Killing people was one thing. But this was the stuff of nightmares. Of course, he thought, trying to be logical about it, to her a human probably is the same as a goat. Somehow, that wasn’t a very comforting thought, logical though it was.

Eventually, Baba Yaga took the children into a smaller room, one that contained a large sack, and some assorted boxes of odds and ends. It seemed to be a form of cupboard. A small candle provided faint illumination. “There we are, my little sweetlings,” Baba Yaga said, pushing them inside. "You just stay put until that nasty poison runs its course, and I'll be back later."

The two children wordlessly looked at each other. "Dekkie?” Poppy eventually said. “What’s your plan?”

“Um…” the boy said. Not having a plan was definitely not an option, he could see that much. He had got them into this, and his Best Friend was counting on him to get them out. That meant he had to do just that. Somehow. Preferably without them both getting eaten. There was something nudging at the back of his mind, trying to remind him of something, and then he did remember. “Did you see the mirror?” he said. “The Rusalka’s magical mirror? Baba Yaga was carrying it at her waist, stuffed into her belt. All we need to do is to get close enough to her, and I’m sure we could filch it.”

“Get close to her?” Poppy said. “I didn’t see it, no. And I thought we wanted to get away from her.”

“Well, that too. That’s the part I haven’t quite figured out yet. You're sure you didn't see the mirror?"

"Nope."

"That's strange." He paused, thinking about it. I wonder…yes. It must have been the mage sight again, just like with the wards back in the camp of the Wychlaran. Probably the mirror has a concealment spell on it or something. So the hag wouldn't have expected us to know it was there. That's useful to know. Should make it easier to steal it. Of course, there's the tiny detail about getting close to her without winding up in a pot. I guess I need to work on the plan a little more.

Time passed, more time passed and the children examined their prison. There didn't seem to be much of interest in there. Old clothes and boots in boxes, some ancient carpets, a sack of stinking garlic and another one filled with grains. "That's funny," Poppy said, running her fingers through the grains. "Do you think she enjoys baking? My Ma used to bake a lot, but I don't think I'd want to eat anything that Baba Yaga made."

"No, me neither. Probably it'd be made from bonemeal, and sludge, and…and mandrake juice or something disgusting like that." Then something occurred to him. "Poppy…didn't that skull outside say something about a magical grain that Baba Yaga had lost? That she'd hidden and couldn't find?"

The halfling nodded. "I think so, yes."

"So, I just thought…hiding something in plain sight is pretty much classical. And the best way to hide a magical grain would be?"

Poppy's eyes went to the sack. "Among thousands of others…I get it. Think she'd be grateful if we found it for her?"

"Maybe. But I wouldn't count on it. It might buy us some valuable time though. And I think I just might be able to find it." It wasn’t as if he had much choice. The magical ring still hadn’t recharged itself, even if he had known how to use it properly. But it would recharge soon, according to his time calculations, and then he would have to take a chance. Going directly home hadn't worked; perhaps the magic prevented that somehow. A different destination might work better however. It was worth a try. In the meantime, he'd have to keep the hag occupied, exactly how didn't much matter.

It was even later, maybe a couple of hours later or so, and by now he was almost beginning to despair, but he forced himself to go on all the same, carefully examining one grain at a time, waiting for something, anything about it to leap out at him and proclaim it the one he sought. That was the tricky thing about mage sight. Sometimes it worked on its own, but sometimes you had to force it to work, and he hadn’t exactly been practicing lately. Quite the opposite. Ever since he’d started coming to terms with losing the magic, he’d been trying to forget it ever existed, that it had even been part of him. He had made himself forget, because remembering hurt. Stupid me. Stupid, stupid, stupid. I should have known better. Knowing things makes you more powerful, whatever it is. I should have known I might need to do something like this at some point. He was sitting cross-legged on the floor, shifting through the grains, and the heap of already examined ones seemed pitifully small compared to the unexamined ones. By now his neck was burning from the constant strain of bending over, his fingers were aching and so were his eyes. The dim light in the room didn’t exactly help. Suppose I miss it? Suppose I’ve missed it already? No! I can’t, I mustn’t! Have to go faster…A pair of small hands firmly rubbed at his neck, smoothing the aching knots in his muscles out, replacing the pain with lovely warmth.

“Take it easy,” Poppy said. “Don’t rush. You'll find it.” It felt nice. Perhaps I can do this after all. I will. I have to. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, there was a faint blue glow, hidden within the mass of regular grains, and his fingers deftly snatched the magical one up, holding it triumphantly aloft. “I got it!” he said, grinning widely despite the headache and the backache and the fact that his eyes felt as it they were bleeding. “I really got it!”

“Of course you did,” his Best Friend said, smiling back. “I told you so, didn’t I? You should listen to me more often, Dekkie, you really should.”

“Yes,” he said, unable to wipe that silly smile off his face. “I suppose I should.”

Eventually Baba Yaga returned, as she had promised, and the children were waiting for her. “Well, my sweetlings?” the hag asked. “Is that nasty poison gone yet? I'm getting impatient, I'm thinking of boiling you after all."

"No," Dekaras said. "It's not gone. But maybe there's something else you want instead." He held up the magical grain, pleased to notice the greedy gleam in the hag's eyes.

"My grain!" she gasped. "You found it, and I thought I had lost if for good! Give it to me at once!"

"You know, I really don't think so. Not unless you do something for us."

Baba Yaga bared her tusks, and as she raised her hands he felt fluttery butterflies in his stomach at the sight of the long claws on her fingers. "And why shouldn't I simply take it from your clever little corpse instead?"

"Weeelll…" the boy said, dragging the word out. Then he quickly popped the grain into his mouth, hiding it under his tongue. "Maybe because I'll swallow it if you try anything. You could get it out of my stomach after I was dead I suppose, but I think it might be spoilt by then? So, do you want it or not? I'm pretty hungry myself, if you must know."

The hag hissed angrily, but she looked a bit uncertain. "Oh, bother! It took me an entire year to perfect that grain, and the hut eats so much…I really can't be bothered to make another one. All right. What do you want?"

Now this was the most dangerous gamble of all. Asking for freedom would seem the best and most natural option, but he didn't trust Baba Yaga to keep her word once she had her grain back. What he really needed to do was to keep her preoccupied for long enough for the ring to recharge, which should be very soon. And he still needed that mirror for the Rusalka as well. That meant getting close enough to the hag to swipe it, and getting away afterwards. The first he thought he could almost certainly do. The second was a bit chancier, but they didn't really have any good options. "I still want my fortune told," he said. "Show me something of my future, Old Mother, and I will give the grain up, I swear it." And I really hope my future extends past the next ten minutes or so.

Baba Yaga scowled, but then she nodded. "Very well, annoying human. You shall have your wish. Attend closely."

"Just don't try anything. If you do, my friend here will simply hit me on the jaw, that should make me swallow the grain."

"That's right," Poppy said, glaring fiercely at Baba Yaga. "So don't try to touch him."

"A bargain is made," Baba Yaga said, her voice chilly. "Your fortune be told, child - and may it be a dark one for irritating me like this." She raised her hand, making a complex gesture, and muttered a few unfamiliar arcane syllables. Before the boy knew it, the dark room slipped away, and he was somewhere else entirely.

This new place was a brightly lit room, the walls painted in cheerful colors. An enchanted glass globe spun in the ceiling, sending out a beautiful silvery white light. There was a bed in one corner, a bed that was practically bursting with puffy bolsters, silky sheets and a frothy lace covering. An armada of stuffed toys stared at him from its fluffy heights, all of the very expensive-looking. There were more toys, scattered all over the floor. Dolls, books, drawing materials, balls, and several things the function of which he couldn’t even begin to guess at. Many of them looked magical, but they were so totally out his realm of experience that he couldn’t be sure. Gingerly, he picked up a drawing lying on the floor next to his foot. There was a girl in the picture, wearing an enormous jewel-encrusted crown and a bright red dress, riding a tiger. The writing next to her read: ‘Me – Ruler of All’.

Puzzled, the boy let the drawing drop to the floor again. There was so much to look at. How could any child possibly have this much? He stared longingly at a miniature dragon, which looked like a live one down to the tiny scales on its nose and the fierce glint in its eyes. I guess her parents must love her a lot.

Then, there was suddenly a voice behind his back, startling him almost into dropping the toy. A piping voice, but still somehow commanding. “Boy!” it said. “Why are you crying?”

“I was not!” he said, turning around. He hadn’t been. Not really. He never did. And even if he had been it wouldn’t have been anybody else’s business.

The voice belonged to a small girl, who looked to be about his own age, maybe a year or so younger. She was currently in the process of crawling out from under the bed, but this didn’t stop her from giving him a haughty stare that wouldn’t have looked out of place on an empress. She had raven-black hair that fell all the way down to her waist, currently a little tangled, and her dark eyes fixed him with a curious stare that was pretty unnerving in its intensity. The knee-length silk dress she was wearing was white, or rather had been white before her sojourn under the bed, and it was covered with so much lace and silver thread that it almost made her resemble some sort of expensive confectionary. There were even shining moonstones threaded into the cloth, and into the white hair ribbon she was wearing. Right now she had crossed her thin arms across her chest and she kept giving him that queenly stare, as if she was expecting him to bow. “Well?” she asked, still in that commanding voice.

“Well what?”

“What are you doing in my room? Have you come to kill me, to abduct me or to play with me? You’d better watch out if you’re here to kill me – I’ll curse you till your stomach comes out of your ears.”

“Ha!” the boy said. “You’re just a child, you can’t curse anybody.”

“Yes I can! If you don’t start being polite I’ll show you! Or I’ll hit you. I’m good at hitting too.”

“As if you could even touch me. Anyway, I’m not here to kill you, I’m not even sure what I’m doing here.”

“I’m not surprised,” the girl said with an ominously sweet smile. “You seem very confused, you know.”

“I’m not confused! I’m just under some sort of spell, and I want to get out of here. What were you doing under the bed, by the way?”

“Hiding,” the girl said in a matter-of-fact voice. “They want me to go to my stupid cousin’s stupid birthday party, but I won’t. A spell, you say?” Now she sounded interested. Worryingly interested. She had rapidly crossed the distance separating them and was watching his face as if she was trying to memorize it. “You’re not the least bit scared of me, are you?”

“Scared of you? No! Why would I be?” She didn’t look insane, but he was really starting to wonder.

“Most people are,” the girl said. “But you’re not…I like that. I like that a lot. I think I’ll keep you.”

“KEEP ME?”

“Yes. Obviously you’re some sort of magical creature to appear like this, looking all wild and dangerous. I tried to conjure spirits yesterday, I didn’t think it had worked, but I guess it did. So, I’m going to keep you, Boy. I’ll have to think up some nice name for you, I guess. Something suitable. How about…Lord Mordred? I like that name.”

That settles it. She is insane. “Nobody ‘keeps’ me,” he hissed into the girl’s face. Irritatingly enough, she simply looked amused. “And I am not a spirit. If I were, I could simply poof myself out of here and I wouldn’t be stuck with you. And my name is not ‘Lord Mordred’ and definitely not ‘Boy’.”

The annoying creature stuck her tongue out at him. “Not my fault if you can’t be bothered to introduce yourself properly,” she said. Then her dark eyes widened a little. “Look! You’re fading!” As he looked down on himself he noticed that she was right. His body was rapidly becoming more and more transparent; he could see the floor right through himself. “I hope you’ll come back,” the girl said, sounding sincerer than before. “I do like that you’re not afraid of me, even if you’re impossibly rude.” Then, before he was able to stop her, she stepped forward, and he could feel the cool and ghostly brush of her lips against his, even as he kept fading. “By the way,” she said, her voice also fading, “my name is…”

“Her name is what?” the young Dekaras muttered as reality reasserted itself around him. He had almost heard it, but he couldn’t quite remember. Touching his fingertips to his lips he could almost recall it, but not quite. What an annoying girl. And my future is supposed to include her somehow? Maybe getting eaten by Baba Yaga isn’t that bad an option after all.

Speaking of Baba Yaga, she was watching both him and Poppy carefully. He was back in the dark hut, as if he had never left. Perhaps he hadn’t. “And now, my sweetlings,” Baba Yaga said. “The grain.”

Slowly, the boy stepped forward, trying to make himself look hesitant and frightened, something that wasn’t all that difficult considering the circumstances. He raised his hand, but then he let the grain fall to the floor. “Ooops,” he said, with an insincere smile. “Clumsy me. But I did give it up, just as I promised.” Soon now. Very soon.

“Very amusing, little one,” Baba Yaga growled, but she bent over to pick the grain up, confident in her ability to keep the children at bay. This proved to be a mistake. Swift fingers reached out for her waist, carefully slipping the magical mirror out without her noticing. At the same time, a flood of grains poured across the floor, covering the magical one, as Poppy overturned the sack just in the nick of time. So distracted was the crone by the loss of her one treasure that she quite overlooked the theft of the other.

“Noooo!” Baba Yaga screamed. “You little monsters! I’ll get you for that!” The children narrowly ducked her claws, raising for the exit, but the crone was coming up behind them, closing in with every step she took. And then a clear, silvery note was heard as Poppy blew the enchanted whistle the pixies had given them, and Baba Yaga stopped in her tracks. Dozens, hundreds of pixies had appeared in the air around her, fluttering their translucent wings in her face and giggling loudly.

“Playtime!” one of the pixies called out. “Friends have called, and now pixies may play!” He whipped out a tiny fiddle and started playing a rapid and cheerful tune, the other pixies singing in loud and piping voices. Baba Yaga snarled with frustration and rage, but the pixie magic was strong enough to affect even her, and her legs were already twitching helplessly, carrying her around and around, leaping and cavorting in a swift dance. As the two children ran out the door they could still hear her, her heavy footsteps providing a strange contrast to the pixies’ tiny voices. Fortunately the hut was on ground level, sparing them a death-defying leap. Otto's Irresistible Dance, Dekaras thought as he hurried along. Marvellous spell, that. It won't keep her forever, but it doesn't have to. Only a few moments more…unless I've miscalculated…and I'd better not have.

“Hey!” a voice called out as the two children raced past the gate to Baba Yaga’s domain. “Don’t forget your promise, kiddies!”

Not pausing to speak, Dekaras snatched the talkative skull off its stick and stuck it beneath his arm, then ran as fast as he could down the Road of Bones, Poppy just ahead of him. “I sure hope you’ve got some kind of plan ready, kiddies,” the skull said. “Baba Yaga will be coming after you soon, and she sounded really angry.”

“Thanks so much for the moral support,” the boy snapped. “Any other encouragement you wish to offer?”

“I could describe what she usually does to people who annoy her. That ought to make your little legs move faster…”

"Oh, just go stick a stick up your sinuses…"

By now there was a rumbling sound behind them, rapidly rising in pitch and volume. Baba Yaga must have broken free of the spell, and now she was hunting for them. But not for long. Finally, finally, the ring began to glow again, as he had thought it would. Just in time too. Twisting the ring, he spoke out loud. "To the lake of the Rusalka who owns the magic mirror." He visualised the lake as clearly as he could, grabbing his Best Friend's hand, and then the magic storm raged once again.

This time, it actually worked. The children found themselves standing near the dark lake of the Rusalka, and they no longer could hear the sound of Baba Yaga's mortar racing across the sky.

"We did it!" Poppy said. "We're safe!"

“We’re not out of Rasheman yet,” Dekaras said. “I won’t relax until that happens. We have bought some time, but we'd better hope that mirror does what it's supposed to, and soon.” He shook his head. "I really wonder why the magic worked this time, and not before? I thought I did everything in the same manner…"

As the children once again neared the lake of the Rusalka, she rose from the water to greet them, her long green hair flowing down her back like a waterfall. This time she was closer to the shore, and her entire upper body was visible in all its naked glory.

“Hubba hubba!” the skull, whom Poppy had decided to call ‘Mr Cranium’ said. “You know, it’s at times like this that I really wish I had a body…”

The Rusalka didn’t seem to mind this, but smiled at the children instead. “You have returned safely!” she exclaimed. “And with my Mirror too – truly, you have done very well.”

“Will you show us how to get home now?” Poppy asked. “Adventuring is fun and all that, but right now there’s this angry witch who might be coming for us any minute and I miss my own bed too.”

“Of course,” the Rusalka said. “I will do whatever I can to aid you. Just give me my mirror, and we shall see what I shall see.”

Anxious not to waste any time, the young Dekaras waded into the water, wincing a little at the coldness that seemed to reach his waist in no time, and at the slimy bottom sucking at his feet. “Here you go,” he said, holding the mirror out to the Rusalka, feeling an odd little tremor as he looked into those alien green eyes.

“Thank you, vadja,” the Rusalka said, reaching out to touch his face with fingers that were cold and a little slimy, but strangely gentle. “Now let me see…” She looked into the mirror for a few moments, then frowned. “That is odd. The mirror tells me that you have the means to go home already, right there on your hand.” She pointed at the magical ring.

“But I’ve tried using it!” the boy protested. “And every time it goes wrong. Except this last time, coming here.” It was too much. Really, it was too much. To have gone through all of that, only to be right back where he started. It was enough to make him want to wish that he was still able to cry, except of course that he couldn’t very well let Poppy down by going to pieces on her.

“Let me think about this,” the Rusalka said, looking into the mirror once more. “It should be simple enough. You simply need to order the ring to take you home.”

“But I did…” And then he fell silent. I didn’t…did I? I thought I did, but when I thought ‘home’ I was still thinking of Rasheman. Back in Thay, when I wanted to get away, I wanted to go home. And that’s where the ring took me. Sort of. And then, the second time I used it, I still did the same thing, thinking of Rasheman as home. But it isn’t. It hasn’t been for a long time and it’s time I realized that. When I tried to come here though, to the lake, there was no conflict, and so it worked. I should have guessed it sooner. Still…it was good seeing Rasheman one more time, despite everything. I had missed it a lot and I don’t suppose I’ll ever come here again. “I see,” he said. “Yes…yes, I think I can get us home now. Thanks.”

“You are welcome, child. But…are you sure you have to leave?” A yearning look crossed the Rusalka’s lovely face, and she sighed a little. “I told you how I miss my own little one…I would so like to have children of my own again. Please, will you not stay? Both of you? I sense that same loneliness, that same longing. You have no true home, or you would not have come here, is that not so? Say that you will stay, that you will let me be your mother.”

Her words struck a cord within the boy, and he stood motionless, watching the sad face that hovered above him, framed by hair like long grass. Mother? No…I have no mother. Not anymore.

“No!” Poppy loudly protested. “We need to go home now, and we have a home, so there. Stop trying to trick us!”

The Rusalka shook her head. “I am not trying to trick you, little one. You are free to go if you wish. But your friend…I wonder if he is so eager? He is lost in a sense that you are not, girl, in the same sense that I am. If he were to give you that ring, you could use it to go home. He could remain behind – if he wanted to.”

“No he doesn’t! He’s going home with me!”

“Is he? Shall we ask him?”

Those green eyes, beckoning him forward. The voice was so soft, so comforting. And there was a gentle touch, fingers stroking his cheek, leaving behind a trace of dank water. Mother? There was a soft embrace just ahead, waiting. He took a hesitant step towards it. I want…

Another voice, frantic and shrill, somewhere behind him. “Dekkie, listen to me, please! If you go with her, she’ll drown you, you know that. Please, come back!” Splashing noises of somebody wading out into the water behind him, green eyes just ahead.

“Come with me, child,” the green eyes beckoned. “You know you yearn to forget.” The water was up to his chest by now.

“No!” the voice behind him screamed. “Come back!” Fingers clutching his arm, holding it tightly. “I’m not letting go! I’m never letting go!”

Green eyes ahead. Desperate hands behind, hugging him. I want…what do I want? I need…I need…I need to go home. That's what I need. And home…is not here. The fogs in his head cleared. “Poppy?”

The halfling was clinging to him desperately, practically in tears. “I thought you were going to go with her, I really did, and if you tried I’d have to hit you over the head to stop you, and I really wouldn’t want to hurt you, but I’m not letting you go off and get yourself drowned and…”

“I’m not getting drowned. Don’t worry.” He looked at the Rusalka. Her eyes were even sadder than they had been before, and she was retreating further out into the water. “Why did you do that?”

“I am sorry, child,” the Rusalka whispered, tears running down her cheeks. “I did not mean to harm you, but I miss my little one so…I forgot myself for a moment. I only wanted to be a mother again.”

The boy bit his lip, not wanting to remember the sensations evoked by those green eyes. “I don’t need a mother,” he finally said. “Not anymore. But thanks anyway.” I don’t. I really don’t. I might want one, but I’ll soon grow out of that as well, I’m sure. I hope so. He slowly backed out of the water, not taking his eyes off the Rusalka until he was once again on solid ground. “I’m sorry,” he said, not being sure exactly what he was apologizing for.

“Thank you, child,” the Rusalka said. “I wish you a safe journey, both of you. But until you are able to travel once again, I place you both under my protection. Not even Baba Yaga can touch you, so long as you do not leave the shores of this lake, for here I rule alone and my power is greater than even hers.” With that, she slid beneath the surface of the water and was gone, not even a ripple marking her passage.

The children sat on the shore for a few minutes, watching the lake, not paying much attention to the fact that they were both sopping wet. “Would you have gone with her?” Poppy finally asked, her voice serious. “If I hadn’t been here, I mean?”

He hesitated a little before answering. “I don’t know…I think I might have.” Then he looked her straight in the eyes, smiling a little. “I’m glad you were here.”

The halfling’s dimples immediately reasserted themselves as she gave him a happy smile. “’Course I was. I’m your Best Friend, I’ll always be here. Or wherever you are. It'll be good to go home now though, won't it?”

“Yes,” Dekaras said, getting to his feet. He stood, watching the black lake, the tall trees around it and the long shadows. Remembering the plains, with the grass waving in the wind, and the tall mountains. Once, this had been home. But no longer. It was time to leave it behind for good. “Yes. It will be good to go home.”

This time, once the ring had once again recharged, the rush of the summoned magic seemed stronger than before, more directed and full of purpose. Within seconds, the two children found themselves sitting in the middle of an expensive silk carpet, dripping lake water, slime and mud all over it and utterly ruining it. “We’re back!” Poppy whooped. “We’re back, we’re back, we’re back!”

“So it seems,” said Luca Gorbia’s voice right above them, and as they turned around they could see the Guildmaster’s tall legs towering up to eventually give way to his annoyed face. “And now perhaps you would care to tell me where you have been, and why you see fit to ruin my furniture? Not to mention where you dug that revolting skull up.”

“Hey hey!” Mr Cranium said. “Don’t talk this skull down, I have a nasty bite, and you shouldn’t be standing broad legged right about my teeth!”

For some reason this struck the children as immensely funny, and they broke down in relieved laughter, allowing themselves to droop into a boneless heap of arms and legs, laughing uncontrollably at their escape from certain death. We’re home, the young Dekaras thought. We’re really home. And now I know it. I won't forget it again. But I won't forget where I came from either. I tried to forget what I knew about magic, because it hurt to remember, since I didn't think I could use it at all anymore. But it was mage sight that saved us in Baba Yaga's house. And knowing what spell that Witch was casting, that helped too. And remembering that bit of herbal lore about Fool's Rule, we never would have got away without it. You never know when knowing something may save your life. It was stupid of me to forget that, but I won’t do it again. Some day I may have need of the things I was taught.

It was a few hours later, and the boy had retired to his room, changed out of his wet and dirty clothes and managed to get some sleep, something he had only achieved after threatening to put a candle inside Mr Cranium’s cranium and using him for a lamp if he didn’t stay quiet. He had finally been able to have the magical ring removed as well, courtesy of the Guild's resident Priest of Mask. Having only just woken up again, he was surprised to find something on the floor next to the door. An envelope. Frowning, he pulled out the letter, marveling at the elegant calligraphy, and read.

Child,

I cannot begin to express my relief at hearing that both you and your friend have returned safely. My scryings could not seem to locate you properly, and I feared that you had perished. Had you done so, the blame would have been mine, my lack of perceptiveness driving you to such desperate measures.

I would like to apologize for what must have seemed like an unforgivable intrusion. I had only the best of intentions, but sometimes that does not help. However, believe me when I say that I was never repulsed by you, rather by what was done to you. Such a heinous crime shocked me to the core, especially since I have seen something similar done once before. A friend of mine, one condemned for certain crimes, received a punishment similar in nature. Despite what he had done, I could not stand for such, and I choose to become an outcast rather than be a part of it, rather than to support the Queen who would order such. That, by the way, is how I lost my eye. I am sure you must have wondered.

Though my friend’s punishment was perhaps even more devastating than yours, the difference lies in that you were entirely blameless. Never think otherwise. The thought that you might feel shame about it tempts me towards most un-elven thoughts of violence about the people who committed this travesty.

That said, there is something I wish you to have. My time here is done, and I will leave tonight. If you come and see me before I go, I will leave certain items to you. Some of my books, including a spellbook, various components, a couple of wands and some other miscellaneous things. I know you may feel tempted to reject this offer, but please consider it. Though you may not be able to use them as you once would have, knowledge is power. I would urge you to gather all the knowledge you can, and to remember what you have learnt. There may come a time when you will find those skills useful in some way you cannot even conceive of now.

All my best wishes,

Emalen

The boy sat thinking about the letter for some time, his black eyes a little distant as he tried to think it through. He is right about not forgetting magic, of course. I guess I already knew that, but it helps to have somebody else say it as well. I will accept his gifts, and I will use them however I can. I will be who I am, but I won’t forget who I was either. Never again. The bit about guilt he wasn't quite so sure about. Somewhere deep inside, a nagging little voice insisted that surely he wouldn't have been punished if he hadn't done something wrong? Having a grownup say otherwise helped, sure. But it didn't entirely settle the issue. Emalen hadn't been there, after all. And he was a grownup, which meant he wasn't to be entirely trusted. Still, the voice was much more quiet than it had been before, and on a conscious level he was able to ignore it for the moment.

He stuffed the letter into his pocket and headed out the door, a small smile on his face. Already he could envision many exciting things that might be done with those spell components. But first I think I’ll ask Poppy if she wants to play some Hide and Seek. Or maybe break into the kitchens and search for cookies, or do that sword swallowing practice that we’ve been planning to get around to, or…

The black-haired boy wandered off down the corridor, his mind pleasantly buzzing with a dozen different possible clever plans. He had a feeling this was going to be a good day, and it was very good to be back where he belonged once more. I guess there really is no place like home.