Mearsies Heili Bounces Back (7 page)

He pointed at me. “I know who you are.” His Mearsiean was
flat-accented, but perfectly understandable.

“Princess Cherene Jennet Sherwood.” I copied Irene’s
dramatic arm-crossing. “You must be Jilo, accompanied by Poopdeck, Lunkhead,
Pig-eye, Fonesmish, and Glotsnotsplatglue.” Best ones I’d made up on the spot
in a long time! But did he appreciate it? Talent wasted!

Instead, he muttered, made a familiar sign—and the world
around me shimmered. The boys burst into brays, howls, and snackles of
laughter.

Illusory spell! I mirrored it back—one of the first things
I’d learned—and there he was, looking like a rotting zombie like in one of
those movies on Earth.

Jilo did another spell, I mirrored it—and we girls appeared
to the other side as purple pod people with tentacle arms.

Then it was time for animals. He turned me into a goose (his
clods began giving sound effects, cluing me in) and I made him a giraffe. Then
the battle was on, and we both started including the people on the other side.

Jilo called a halt when some of the spell-casting caused
half of our people to look like snails, which meant the other half all started
lunging forward, feet raised. Apparently the clod gang had as much trouble as
my excellent, brilliant friends understanding when a spell was illusion and
when real. Anyway, nobody wanted their feet stomped.

“What are you doing here, anyway?” I demanded. “This is our
territory.”

“No it isn’t,” he shot back. “You people usurped it. We have
as much right to it as you do. More.”

“Figures you’d think that, you and that grundge-bearded ol’
geez. Where’d he dig you up, anyway?”

“I earned my place,” Jilo nasalled. “My father’s captain of
the first guard.”

“Oh, the stupidest of the stupids.” I was mad as fire about
that ‘earned’ biznai. I knew immediately it was a crack aimed at me, and my
becoming a princess.

Their braying laughter made it clear that, yep, it had been
aimed at me, and further, my retort had lead-ballooned.

“A lot you know about anything,” Jilo said.

That wasn’t any better as a comeback, heh heh, and the girls
ranged behind me offered an entire barnyard of disapproving noises.

“I know
everything
worth knowing. Which does not
include you,” I said loftily, copying Irene when she was being most
maddening—and knew it.

One of the clotpoles had muttered something to Jilo while Faline
was leading the hooting squad; I heard the word “promotion”.

Jilo looked up with a considering expression, like he was
counting us, and I realized they were going to try to make the grab on us.
After all, Kwenz had made it clear that if he got his mitts on us, he’d use us
against Clair.

So? “Get ’em, girls.” I pointed, field marshal at the brink
of battle. “Throw ’em clear back to their pig sty!”

Everybody jumped to action, Sherry flying over by a branch
to land squarely on the back of a big clod.

It was getting dark, which meant their best seeing time and
our worst, and they were bigger. But they were trying to grab us, which is a
lot harder than trying to air condition one’s innards with a pointy thing,
which neither side had thought to bring along.

So the air filled with mud, bits of grass, and thuds and
oofs and pocalubes from us and curses from them. Elbows, knees, way too many
feet got in my way, but I gave back in plenty.

I hadn’t wanted Puddlenose on my team, but it occurred to me
when I was squished under a dogpile that his size would’ve been useful now. But
he and Clair were hiding somewhere way far away, and I knew Puddlenose would
even be mad he’d missed the fun.

Not that it was fun right then. I got my hair pulled far too
many times, and I also learned that Jilo (unlike PJ) was not ticklish, when
Diana did a flat launch, bowling over a couple of them, so that three girls
could pounce on Jilo. We both tried to take the others prisoner, got kicked or
heaved off, until at last the scramble stopped, everyone out of breath, and we
discovered that roughly half had the other half pinned down in some way or
other.

I couldn’t stand offering a truce, but Jilo probably felt
the same. We all heard a distant horn, and the Chwahir looked up. I remembered
our game. Nobody really said much beyond insults and threats, as we
disentangled and separated off, us to troop to the Junky, where we found the
rest of Diana’s and Sherry’s team gathered in triumph.

Turned out to be even-steven: they were mad to have missed
the fun (ha, some fun) and of course we?

Had to get and wear the Auknuge fashion specials.

At least PJ was madder to see me in his pink-and-orange suit
than I was to be wearing it.

We girls hadn’t thought about leaving MH—why should we? We
were happy at home. But one thing about adventures, they seldom ask what you
would like before you wake up and find yourself on one.

So, the next one followed on pretty fast.

Puddlenose insisted on sneaking into the Shadow to spy out
Jilo and his pals. When he didn’t reappear for a couple of days, Clair got
worried, and so Gwen and Seshe went down the mountain to see if they could find
him.

When they didn’t reappear, Clair got more worried. I’d been
helping out with some of the morning boredom, mostly listening to people who
wanted to complain about things. Clair had told me that a lot of folks just
want to blab on and on, and if you listen politely often they either talk
themselves into doing the right thing, or else they demand something so
ridiculous the answer is an easy no. I could help her by sorting those ones out
when she ended up with a lot of people to see. If someone had a real problem, I
set them aside for her.

Well, after a long morning of really dumb stuff, Clair was
still worried, so I said, “How about I go check?”

“I think I should. Except I’ve still got that Mage Council
person coming. I don’t know which day.”

I made a sour face. “I’d rather check then have to deal with
some super-important flooble! What if I bow wrong and they turn me into a
cactus?”

Clair laughed her kitten-squeak laugh, and I ran off to
change my clothes—forgetting about my little silver crown. I wore it as my
Badge of Respectability when I helped with morning boredom, and since it was
small, and fitted my head, it acted like a fancy headband, so half the time I
forgot it was there.

I ran off to change back into my favorite outfit—white
shirt, black vest, green skirt, bare feet—and then to find out whose turn it
was to patrol.

Meanwhile, Klutz and Id (the kid mayors of Wesset North) had
gotten the news about Puddlenose being captured through a spy they had in the
Shadowland. They decided to investigate ...

Dhana and I ghost-footed down the trail, pausing like
super-spies to peer around every corner. We snaked to the outskirts of the
Shadow, scanning carefully before we started down the last of the rocky trail,
and—

White painful light exploded.

And I woke up groaning. A warm thing bumped my neck. I
moaned, “Doooooon’t,” rolled away ... and found myself next to Dhana. Our eyes
were about four inches apart, hers bleary. “Huh?” she whispered.

“Baggies!” I croaked.

Slowly I put together the clues: we’d walked into some kind
of magical trap. Only ... I looked around. How did all the others end up in it?
Because Puddlenose lay face down, his feet near my face. “So that’s what woke
me up,” I said, pointing.

Gwen gave a weak laugh. Stinky feet was her favorite
joke—she never got tired of it.

I rolled the other way. Red hair—Faline? No, it was long and
bristly-straight rather than short and bristly-curly. Klutz and Id? Yep. How’d
we end up with Wesset North’s mayors?

Those of us who’d wakened worked on the others.

“Arrrrgh,” Puddlenose groaned.

“Hey, it’s your feet stinking us into comas,” I cracked, and
Gwen and Klutz shook with laughter.

Then Klutz grimaced, rubbing her ankle. “I tripped while
trying to escape. It hurts.”

“We better wrap it up,” Seshe said doubtfully. “We don’t
know where we are, but it’s for certain we’ll need to be walking if we want to
get home.”

We looked around, then. Not that there was much to see: we
were in a bare room, the walls whitewashed, the floor smooth, worn tiles of a
color pretty much like mud.

Gwen hopped to the door—locked. The one window was shuttered
from the outside. The light came from a glow globe on a sconce, high up above
the door.

While she checked that, Dhana ripped out the hem of her
skirt, which had been floor length. She and Seshe passed the length back and
forth, binding Klutz’s ankle. When it was done, Klutz wiggled her toes. “Better.
Thanks! Gotta wake up Id.”

“I already tried,” Gwen said. “Because he landed with his
arm over my nose. I think you squished him when you fell.”

“Nonsense. He’s just worse than a log. I know from our days
back in France.” Klutz leaned down close to Id’s ear, and said (in French) “Here
comes the Committee of Public Safety!”

Id shot up, eyes bugging.

“Works like a cactus to the seat,” Klutz gloated, as Gwen
went back to the door, and began fiddling with it.

“Rather have the cactus,” Id croaked. “Ow, my brain. Who
took it out, and did you have to do it in pieces?”

“Speaking of brains. Who remembers what?” I asked.

“Kwenz. Threat,” Puddlenose said, grimacing. “I think ... I
think we were supposed to be transferred to Land of the Chwahir.”

“Ugh!”

“Pshew!”

“Ghack!”

“Bleccch!”

I fished out my medallion. “These must have footled the
spell. Somehow. Though they’re meant to protect us from the Yxubarecs getting
us, and pushing us off a cloud, it could be the two kinds of magic tangled up.
Or something.”

Everybody looked at me, and shrugged or waggled a hand, or
nodded. I was the magical “expert” so my guess was good enough for them.

Seshe said, “Do you think we got forced to another
Destination?”

I rubbed my eyes. “I don’t think this is a Destination.
These are plain tiles, and transfer Destinations are patterned. Unless someone
uses this room for transfers back and forth, you know, between two places
familiar to them. Hey, where’s Gwen?”

The door was slightly ajar, and I realized she’d picked the
lock. Diana was a good teacher, I thought, grinning.

Gwen was soon back. Her eyes were round. “I think,” she said
slowly, “we’re in a loony bin.”

Id gasped, and Klutz fell backward, wheezing with snickers. “Are
they gonna bring the chains?” Id asked.

Klutz whacked him on the arm. “We’re in this world,
remember? They don’t lock up the loonies like they did back in France.”

Klutz and Id had once run a gang of orphans during the
French Revolution. Despite all the adults going crazy and chopping one another’s
heads off, the two had kept all the kids in their gang alive. They ended up with
us, and after Clair heard about their skills, she promoted them to be mayors. Even
though Id had admitted that he’d been raised as a thief. As a result, he was
probably the most honest kid in the kingdom!

“What makes you think we’re in a loony bin?” I asked. “Did
you talk to anyone?”

“No, it’s just, they look weird—making weird noises, some of
’em wearing weird getups—”

“Let’s get outa here,” I said, and nobody argued.

We snuck out one by one, looking in all directions.

It was a plain building, old wood and stone like most, only
the stone was a darker gray than I had gotten used to in MH. Here and there
people in all kinds of weird outfits went here and there, and as we passed
rooms, we got glimpses of people shouting, running about, once singing.

Seshe started grinning. “I wager anything we’re in a
theater.”

Gwen’s mouth popped open. “I didn’t know ordinary people
could be in theaters!”

“Who do you think is in ’em?” Sherry asked.

“Stars!” Gwen waved her hands.

Sherry looked up toward the ceiling, and so I said, “The
word for famous people, on Earth.”

“That’s an odd thing.” Seshe looked puzzled. “Why stars? Are
some moons and suns?”

A couple of grownups appeared and started blabbing at us in
that tone of voice that means
What are you doing here?

“This way,” Klutz said.

The corridors were narrow, filled with stuff. We ducked
after Klutz, who hobbled swiftly, the boys on either side trying to catch her
hands so they could help out. But she waved her arms and crab-scuttled, the
rest of us galloping after.

Duck, duck, and we entered a wide space, with colored
glowglobes overhead, almost blinding. We were in a room—no, a fake room, with
one side dark, rustling beyond it—

“It’s a set,” I said, remembering school plays. “Uh oh, I
think we’re on stage.”

Sherry froze, staring out at the darkness. Then Gwen
poonched her cheeks and lips, goggled her eyes, showed that to the audience,
and ran. Sherry gasped, giggled, turned a terrible handspring, and ran. I
pounded after, and because the audience had started laughing, I scratched my
armpits and went “Ook! Ook!” forgetting that they don’t have monkeys here—or if
they do, not around MH.

Seshe looked out, they put her head back and neighed like a
horse—and Puddlenose promptly started walking like he had a peg leg. Id did a
kind of zombie shamble, Klutz flapped her arms and hooted as she ran past the
actors, who’d frozen, glaring at us. One unloosed a kick, which Klutz barely
escaped. Then Dhana paused, like she does, whirled, then leaped, and the
laughter died swiftly to stillness.

Dhana’s mouth curled at one corner, and she did just a
little of her butterfly dance, then leaped after us, to a crash of applause.

We zoomed through the fake wall, and kept on going.