Over The Sea (31 page)

“By cracky,” Sherry exclaimed, unconsciously using Faline's current favorite expression.

And the freckled visitor turned to her in astonishment. “Do you know her?”

“Know who?”

“Bhi Craqui. My sister,” the visitor exclaimed. “She lives in another land, it's a long explanation — never mind,” she added as one of the men toted in a heavy tray laden with food and a steaming pot. “Oh!”

“By cracky,” Sherry said, not being able to resist. “By cracky, you have a sister named By Cracky?”

The boy said, “These names, they are, what call you them here, a nom de guerre — “

“It doesn't translate,” the girl said. “We picked new names. So what's left of our families wouldn't get hurt, when we decided to go to war against Robespierre and the Committee for Public Safety.” She smacked her scrawny chest and pronounced, “I am Klutz de le Nutz!” She cocked her head to one side. “Odd, how it comes out sounding different.”

The boy bowed, flourishing his hands over the clay dishes. “And I am Idiosyncrasy. But nobody calls me anything but Id.”

“For Idiot,” Klutz said, grinning.

Id sighed. “So some of my plans flub.”

“At least for the villains, too,” Klutz admitted generously.

Sherry saw that the two were very hungry, but they were waiting for her to make the first move. So she divided the food into three portions, the larger ones for them, and a small one for her as she'd eaten recently. And from the way they devoured the pancakes, fluffed eggs-and-cheese, berry-muffins, and apple compote, it was obvious they did not often get such a meal.

The steaming pot turned out to be steamed milk with honey and cinnamon beaten in. The two drank that down, sighing in ecstasy. Not a drop or a crumb was left.

“It seems,” Id said, “we're not to lose our heads after all. Someone — maybe the ghost brigade — wants us here to help. So what is the plan?”

“Why, what else?” Sherry said. “As soon as they let us out, we go to see that Captain!”

“Yes.” Id flopped back, and let out a long sigh. “I am not used to this life.”

“Sleeping on straw?” Sherry asked, putting her bag under her head so the straw would not tickle her neck.

“
Clean
straw,” Id exclaimed, and sighed again, in pleasure.

The next morning, sure enough, the door opened — bringing in frigid air and a smell of fresh oat-cakes — with a fine breakfast being carried in by a stout young woman. She looked around, back over her shoulder, then at Sherry, and said, “I don't know who you are. Why you're here. But you have to know. There's little we can do against the Captain. He's got the horses, the swords. And it's planting time for us. Well, will be.” She made a face, and the others realized they could see her breath.

Klutz nodded. “Air smells of a last snow,” she said. “But it feels like it won't be a frost.”

Id said, “Plant in days. You can smell the soil, here.”

“You know farming?” the young woman asked.

Id and Klutz both said, “Yes.”

Sherry said, “We're here, well, I'm here, on behalf of the queen.”

The young woman sat back on her heels. She looked away, at the warped boarding making up the room's walls. “I thought we were forgotten.”

“No,” Sherry said, shaking her head. “Not that. Just, Clair has been learning how to be the queen. Her mother forgot you, and Clair is trying to rediscover you.”

The young woman smiled. “It might not be easy,” she said. “But I hope it happens.” And she left.

Sherry watched her go, biting her lip.

Klutz pointed a freckled hand. “That's how things happen. People talk,” she said. She added with a grin. “They pass on the truth, they pass on lies, they pass on anything amusing enough to pass on.”

Id was vigorously rubbing straw out of his hair. “We passed on lots of lies. That's one good way to get Fouche and his roaches scuttling after one another.”

Sherry nodded, then opened her knapsack, and discovered only a cloak inside, and a stick. She crossly threw the stick, saying, “That's forgetful even for
me
! How did I manage to take out what I didn't put in?”

“I don't know, but that stick there gave out sparks,” Klutz said, backing away. “Was it supposed to?”

“Oh!” Sherry pounced, held it up to the light filtering in through the slats in the wall. She frowned. “If this is a joke of Clair's ... no, it couldn't be Clair. Could it? But Faline doesn't know any magic, or even any pretend magic!” She tapped the stick against her hand, and again illusory sparks poured out — my addition, I must add. I'd felt that Sherry might need help, but didn't want to insult her by offering. Making a fuss.

A moment later Clair appeared, rubbing her eyes. She was wearing her nightgown, the visitors saw — not that Clair noticed. “Oh, I see you figured out how to summon me.”

Sherry whirled around in delight. “A magic wand! I always wanted one!”

Clair grinned. “Surprise! But you know there isn't really any such thing, that is, the wand is the focus for specific spells. Plus CJ loaded on lots of illusions, in case you need to impress someone.” She saw the visitors then. “Hullo.”

“They're from off-world,” Sherry said. “Appeared, right on my road.”

Clair nodded. “Well, then.”

Sherry went on to explain very quickly what she'd learned. Clair listened, frowning slightly, then said, “Go ahead and follow up. You have the ability to transfer out if there is danger, but I hope there will not be. Listen, I have to go — it was time to waken anyway — for there are some other problems to be seen to.” And she vanished, leaving a snap of displaced air to whisk around the little room.

“Time to go,” Sherry said. “Now, if we can make illusions, what I'll do is, when we go to see whoever is captain in that first fortress, I'll give us fancy clothes. It'll look like fancy clothes, anyway. That and magic might make him take kids seriously.”

Klutz and Id, who had discovered that age was no bar to terror in the France of 1793, both nodded.

And so it was. They set out in the clear air; by midday, when they spotted the first of the fortresses on the horizon, the snow had melted in all but little dells and stream-beds, patches of blue-shadowed white retreating before the sproutings of clover and grass that Id and Klutz said heralded planting time.

They talked about farms, and farming, as they walked. Sherry did not comprehend half of the worlds they used — all translated by magic, but arising out of experience she'd never had.

Well, there is not a lot more to tell. Or, there could be, but Sherry's account didn't always make sense — and by the time Klutz and Id were done telling it, they'd added so many jokes and imaginary insults (things they'd wished they'd said) the record was a mess.

What happened was this: they interviewed the local captain, and on the way in saw not just Mearsieans dressed for riding and patrol, but some Chwahir. Sherry was told that they were all renegades, and on the Mearsieans' side, but Id got a different story from the stable-hands, who said they were slowly replacing the regular riders.

Meanwhile the fellow in charge condescendingly informed Sherry that everything was wonderful, and that Clair needn't worry. In other words, the little girl queen could go back to playing dolls in her big white palace on the cloud, and leave Real Life to those who knew what to do about it.

Sherry didn't get mad. She didn't even get even, though she did use the wand to whip up illusory horses and fancy clothes for her subsequent visits to the forts going all the way to the westernmost border of Wesset North.

Along the way they talked to people, and again, where an adult might have been given silence and distrust, nobody took kids seriously. Sherry listened, Klutz and Id listened, and they told everyone they listened to that “the queen is coming back, and there will be no more Chwahir.”

By the time Sherry reached the huge fortress on the border (left over from generations before, when the royal family tended to have sons or daughters stay there and practice their future kinging and queening by keeping an eye on the Shadowland), farmers from all over Wesset North had sent someone to find out if the word about the queen was true.

Every night, Sherry reported her conversations to Gwen via the magical note.

Every night, Gwen carried all the reports to Clair, who was in her magic chambers, working on several projects.

On the last day, Sherry confronted the man everyone called the Captain, who waited for her in the last stronghold, the biggest and oldest one, at the very northwest edge of Wesset North.

He obviously expected to send the little girl to the rightabout. After all, nothing had happened yet. The white-haired queen remained in her tower, and she had no army, so what could she possibly do, except maybe cry?

The people obviously expected
something
to happen.

Klutz and Id, who had steadily become less serious and more inclined to pull gags on the pompous adults — but restrained themselves, as they were guests — promised that whatever happened, they would protect Sherry. And so they walked on either side of her that last way inside the big fortress with its crumbling outer walls, and the reinforced inner walls, and the Chwahir soldiers in the big main room.

Sherry didn't know what to expect.

She faced the Captain a last, a big man dressed in a black uniform. He glared at her. “I am told you are here to entertain me,” he began unpleasantly.

“I'm here because there are Chwahir all over. I'm here because Queen Clevarlineh sent me, because she wants to know what's going on here.”

“What's going on is that Wesset North has been independent these twenty years,” the Captain said. “The fact that she didn't know it is reason enough for independence.”

“Wrong,” Sherry said. “You should have told her. And you should let the people decide. Nobody I talked to wants to be independent. The idea seems to have begun with you.”

“And so, what are you going to do about it?” he asked, motioning all his guards to surround the kids.

Sherry lifted her wand, hoping at least all the sparks and colors would surprise the villains enough so the three could run. But as soon as she tapped it on her hand, a bright light flared, and Clair stood there.

“Good work, Sherry,” she said, blinking away the reaction. (Everyone else was rubbing their eyes.) She faced the captain. “You have made a secret deal with Kwenz,” she said. “That betrays the kingdom. It betrays me. And most important, it betrays the people of Wesset North.”

The Captain leaned forward, face purple. “Kill them!”

Clair ignored the clattering soldiers emerging from the side doors. “You really ought to read your history books.” She muttered, and paff! Paff! Paff! They all vanished.

She sat down abruptly. “Urk.”

Sherry was stunned; Klutz looked around, and Id whistled. Then he nudged Klutz. “If we could do
that
...”

Klutz shook her head. “If we could do it, the Committee would too. Just think how much worse they'd be, knowing ... whatever-it-was she did.” Waving a freckled hand at Clair, who looked up, and rubbed her head.

“Magic,” she said. “Using Kwenz's own distrust against him. The Chwahir just about never trust their people. Put a spell on them before they send them out. Forces them to return on command. My forebears found that command, and you set it up, one spell at a time, and tie in a transfer. It worked!” She winced. “I did all the preparation spells before, so I didn't think it would be that bad. But the last one ...” She shook her head.

Yeah, that last one. It would have felt like trying to hold up a boulder with your eyelids.

But the Chwahir were gone, and outside the big fortress all those people were gathering. The Chwahir on the walls had vanished, and now the crowd was restless.

Clair scrambled to her feet.

“It's time to meet them,” Clair said, but first she turned to Klutz and Id. “I know you don't know me yet. But still. Do you wish to return to your old life, or — “

“We get a choice?” Id asked, and Klutz hopped clumsily around the room, swinging her arms and whooping.

Clair laughed. “You were once kings and queens of the children. You can go back to that, or ...how would you like to try being the Mayors here?”

“Us?” Klutz asked, mid-hop. “But we don't even come from here.”

“Though we wish we could stay,” Id added. “We've been talking about that.”

“I want new people in charge here, nobody with old family influence,” Clair said. “As for your age, I don't trust adults. Think of it. You know farming, you know how to plan. You haven't much experience, maybe, but neither do I. Try it? Someone thought you should be here,” she added. “Because it was not I who brought you.”

Klutz and Id looked at one another. They laughed.

Clair nodded. “If it works, it can be made official later.”

And so it was four kids who went out to face all the questions and demands — not that there were so many of the latter, after that magical exhibition!

Irene did not know anything about trade laws or negotiations between serious-browed adults, but she did know girls.

Clair had said before sending her, “I found out what the problem on the islands is. The countries along the coast, especially Elchnudaeb, have been dumping trouble-makers on some of the islands and forcing the others into rotten trade deals.”

“Trouble-makers?” Irene repeated.

“People they can't just make disappear. Political trouble-makers, not just thieves and the like. They seem to have lots of jails for regular criminals, or those who break the many laws.”

“Yuk,” Irene said. “And that's Fobo's brother!”