Over The Sea (27 page)

Faline said in a brittle voice very unlike her own, “But Clair hates Yxubarecs.”

I said, “No. She hates what they do to people.”

Seshe nodded firmly.

Faline said to the wall, “So do I. Which is why I ran away.”

Irene's mug dropped with a crash. “What?”

Dhana said crossly, “Can't you
ever
do anything without a fuss?”

“All right,” Irene said, turning on Dhana. Her tone was one of great sacrifice. “I'll get rid of the extra trunk. But then
you'll
have to groanboil up to the White Castle and get all the stuff if we want to do plays. Maybe you like that transfer worms-through-the-head but
I
do
not
.”

“So we've heard,” Dhana breathed, but down into her chocolate, and only I was aware. And maybe Seshe, but she didn't make a sign. Dhana sighed, set her cup down, and said, “It's just that we don't have any extra room any more. You've taken it all up with all your stuff.”

Faline looked from one to the other. Her shoulders had been hunched up to her ears. “That's your earlier fight. Isn't it?” And when Dhana and Irene both rolled their eyes, she said in a squeak, “Isn't anyone going to say anything? About me?”

Dhana flipped her graceful fingers. “No one says anything about me.”

“But your people never pushed anyone off a cloud.”

“You never pushed anyone off a cloud,” Seshe said calmly. It wasn't even a question.

Faline shook her head so hard her braids flapped. “My brother ran away first. Then I did.” She looked down. “I — I just felt like I was more real, like this. Not with anyone else's face. I was trying to find out where to do — what to do — when Clair found me.” She looked sad. “It was easier to lie about where I'd come from.”

“You don't have to,” Sherry said earnestly.

Faline wiped her eyes. “No. I don't have to.”

Everyone drank chocolate; the atmosphere stayed tense, so I said, “Who do you think that weird girl was?”

“And how about that trunk?” Dhana asked.

Irene swung around, hands on hips as she looked between us. I knew that the truce could turn into another squabble, so I said, “How about if we sleep now and try to rearrange things better tomorrow?”

Everyone agreed.

Faline and Sherry were whispering as they went off to sleep.

I climbed into my hammock and snuggled down under my blankets. What a weird day. A jangly day. We'd triumphed over the Chwahir, but I didn't feel any triumph at that escape — just a whole cloud of questions.

The air, finally, had turned cold in the Junky as it stirred slowly and gently in and out. I lay there with only my nose and eyes above the blanket, staring at the ground overhead, and feeling quite strange. Faline — an Yxubarec. Then there was that mysterious girl who Clair obviously knew. Would she take my place? No one had joined the group since I had.

I struggled against feeling left out. I
knew
better than that. But I wondered how we would make room for another girl, when we were already so crowded down here. Maybe I, as the princess, would have to move upstairs.

When we woke up, it was to find a note waiting for us on the MP, in Clair's awful scribbly handwriting:

Girls, come Upstairs.

Half the girls were awake — Faline lurking around with her polka-dot freckle face again. While everyone ate some breakfast (Sherry had used our kitchen magic to bring down fresh bread and honey-butter from Janil) Faline cornered me.

“Are you going to tell her?” she asked abruptly.

I'd been thinking about that. I said, “Feels like I'm being a big nose. But I will if you want.”

“No. Yes. No.”

“There you are, CJ! Let's go!” Irene looked at us both, and her expression changed.

Faline said, “I was just thinking of a joke.”

I sighed. What did “No. Yes. No.” mean?

Everyone got dressed and assembled. They seemed fairly cheerful — including Dhana. I later found out the weather had changed during the night, a heavy cloud cover moving in. The air was now cold and wet, something only Dhana enjoyed, but enjoy it she did.

Faline was doing her worry thing again — cracking a stream of stupid jokes, bouncing around.

We transferred Upstairs, and as soon as the ickies wore away, we ran down to the kitchen, where we found Clair, a happy grinning Clair, sitting next to a tall boy with a grin that looked a lot like hers.

I was in the lead. As I neared, I heard him saying, “... and I found out ol' Jonnicake — what did you call him last night?”

“PJ,” Clair supplied, still grinning.

“I found out PJ isn't learning magic any more. Kwenz seems to think he's too stupid, and PJ thinks the ol' geez goes too slow and won't teach him anything important.” The boy broke off and both he and Clair looked up at us.

A boy? We'd never had any boys visit before. All of us stopped, some staring doubtfully, Dhana narrowly, Sherry with her lips parted, and Seshe with a slowly dawning smile.

Clair said, “Say welcome to my cousin, Puddlenose Sherwood.”

She paused while we made various noises of either surprise or greeting. Sherry and Seshe, who had met him a long time ago, both said it was good to see him again.

Faline didn't speak; she was laughing so hard her face was almost as red as her hair. “T-tell ... t-t-t-ell ... . name,” she gibbered, pointing to Sherry.

Clair laughed. “His name?” She turned her head. “Well, Puddlenose?”

He lifted a hand, and something familiar about his gesture reminded me suddenly of the girl last night. Then I realized who he was: our visitor from the night before. Remembering that horrible pink dress, and the way he kept tripping on that hem, I grinned — just as Sherry, snickering helplessly, pointed and said, “He's the girl!”

Diana guffawed. Irene gasped, both hands to her cheeks, then she crowed. Sherry and Faline laughed so hard that the rest of us had to too, at least a little.

That
was before Clair got to his name.

“Well,” she said, making an effort to keep her face serious, “You could say his full name is — ”

The Chwahir words were apparently cuss-words, but the way I heard some in English and the others in Mearsiean, we cracked up. Especially when I repeated them in English. “ — Prunebald egg-brain addle-pate — ”

“Eluded-glue?” Faline cut in. “What could that possibly be?” She was giddy — but kept sneaking looks at Clair.

“That's what it sounds like,” I stated firmly. “So that's what it shall be, and not any nasty cuss-words.”

Clair grinned, and Puddlenose said, “Excellent idea. I like the sound of that pronunciation. Most impressive.”

“You want that one up front, then?” Clair asked. “We can do that. Eluded-glue prunebald egg-brain — ”

“Butter-fingers, louse-face — ”

“Those are real,” I gasped. “I mean, actual Earth terms.”

“What's that?”

“Earth,” Puddlenose said grimly. “Shnit has gone there.”

“That sounds nasty,” I muttered.

Puddlenose turned to Clair. They looked a lot alike, I realized, with their square faces and even features. Only his coloring was brown, his eyes a greeny brown that changed with the light and his mood. Clair waggled her hand toward me, and he said, “'Twas nasty. Far as I can tell, he didn't find what he thought he would. But he did bring back some ripe language.”

“Go on with the name,” Faline declared, smacking the table.

“Where was I?” Clair asked. “Dumb-bell, rat-face, umbrella-head — ”

“Umbrella-head?” I squawked. “A
Chwahir
called someone an
umbrella-head
?”

“That's what it sounds like in Chwahir.”

“Yeccch,” four of us splorched at the same time.

“Don't forget mish-mash!” Sherry put in. “That's my favorite.”

“Now you made me lose my place.” Clair held up her hand, and started counting on her fingers. “Mearsiean translations we already know: Ugly-slob, nut-nose, stupid-head ... oh, I think I might have forgotten one or two, but the nickname is Puddlenose, as that's what he heard most often.”

“I sniveled a lot, as a baby,” Puddlenose said.

“Who wouldn't, raised by Chwahir?” Irene demanded, arms crossed.

I looked from one cousin to the other. They were smiling, but not like they were pulling a joke on us. “That's not a name,” I said, “it's a pocalube.”

“Pocalube?” Puddlenose asked, obviously ready to laugh.

“It's our form of proper villainy insult,” Irene exclaimed. “You have your describer words before — at least seven — and then your word itself — “

Clair made a rueful sort of wince. “We don't know what Puddlenose's given name was, since he was taken away from my mother and my aunt either before or after his parents vanished. He was taken by our uncle Doumei, who joined the Chwahir when he was our age, since he couldn't be king here.”

It was clear by the way Puddlenose held his nose and made a gag face that he didn't want anyone feeling sorry for him, so no one said anything.

Clair went on, “The king of the Chwahir wanted to make him come back and conquer us, but Puddlenose was not a good little villain.”

“Bad little villain?” Irene put in.

“Obedient little villain.” Puddlenose grinned, shaking his head slowly. “Which explains some of my fine name. All I ever heard before I escaped from Land of the Chwahir were taunts and insults,” he said. “Those are the ones I heard most often. I treasured 'em up, because each one meant I was winning. So I counted 'em up one day. Except for louse-face, which I thought was extra-special, since no one in the world knows what a louse is, and I had to go to a lot of trouble to find out.”

“What is it?” Irene asked, making a dramatic face.

“An insect that crawls in your hair, or on your body, or both.”

Ugh!
And
Eeeuw!
burst forth, and nearly everyone scratched at their hair or ran hands over their sleeves, as if invisible bugs had suddenly taken up residence.

“Anyway,” he said, “how about telling me who's who?”

“Here's CJ,” Clair said, indicating me.

Puddlenose grinned. “You're the one who thought up that nacky hideout, aren't you?”

I shrugged, feeling my face burn.

“Wish I had,” he said, his admiration plain. “And I wish you had more room. I'd move right in.”

“Then you should learn who everyone is.” Clair pointed at each of us, saying our names, as the girls began to sit down.

I was trying to figure out whether or not to stick my nose into Faline's business when I realized that Clair and Faline had just vanished, but the others were too busy chatting, repeating Puddlenose's Royal Name, and eying the table to notice. Janil had set out a massive breakfast with at least one of everyone's favorite dishes.

Clair and Faline reappeared, and from the looks on their faces, everything was fine.

Of course it would be fine. I think we all expected that, but Faline just had to find a way herself.

For a time everyone was silent, as we loaded our plates and chomped away. Then Clair said, “Go on, Puddlenose. Tell them the rest of what you told me.” She said ‘them' but her glance went from Puddlenose to Seshe.

Puddlenose hastily swallowed down the huge bite of buttered muffin he'd chomped into, then he sat back. “Since I hadn't been around for a while, I decided to do some nosing. Glad I did. I was comin' down from the north anyway so I stopped by the Auknuges. On the road I'd heard a lot of rumors about how they were losing trade, and raising their taxes and tolls. But you heard that part, didn't you?”

“Yes,” Irene said. “Did people say anything about
us
?” She held the back of her hand to her forehead.

“Yes!” Puddlenose grinned. “Sounds like you girls have been giving PJ and his mother all kinds of trouble. Kwenz, too, when he pokes around. He thinks someone's given you black magic lessons.” He said this to Clair.

“No, but CJ's ring has a spell on it that I found recently. Warns her against wards and traps in the Shadowland. We can't do anything about them, but we can avoid them.”

“But that doesn't explain your shape-changing.”

A few people looked Faline's way. She went red again, but didn't grin, so no one said anything.

“We all have talents,” Seshe said. “And we combine and use them.”

Puddlenose nodded. “Well, you've done a good job. Maybe too good. Kwenz hates his brother. They all hate each other! Or did. There's only the two of 'em left alive, far as I know. Uncle Doumei is safely dead now.”

Clair winced.

Puddlenose went on cheerily, “But Kwenz has got something goin' on in there, that's for sure. What I overhead was what he told Jon — PJ. Love that name!” He paused to laugh. “PJ! Prunes. Perfect! Anyway, Kwenz was hinting around about allies, and plans, and he did say he was looking to the south. But then someone saw me. Seem not to have believed my hasty disguise!”

Everyone laughed.

“So I skipped out, Auknuge fumblers on my trail, but I guess Kwenz whistled up some of his boys and just about when I thought I'd escaped 'em, I nearly ran smack into those Night-eyes, a-ridin' lookin' for me. Then you came along. Glad I was, too. Thanks for the rescue.”

The girls muttered, and Irene preened.

Puddlenose turned to Clair. “You want me to go poking around in the Shadow?”

Clair hesitated, then shook her head. “No. Kwenz might have traps set just for you, at his brother's behest. Unless they have given up that terrible plan?”

Puddlenose shook his head. He was still grinning, but the corners of his mouth turned down. “Oh, no, he's just as determined to get hold of me. It's not me, you understand. He just hates being thwarted.”