The Missing Link (5 page)

Moments later the witchlings turned her way. Their expressions were as sour as their
laughter had been. As they passed another building, one of them peered into the window and tried
the door handle before moving on.

Clang!

Carole jumped at the sound.

Clang!

It was coming from the barn.

Through the open doors she could see a witch standing next to a small forge, examining a
piece of red-hot metal. The smithy witch shoved the metal into the glowing coals of her forge and gave
the bellows a pump. She ladled herself a drink from a nearby water bucket, while staring directly at
Carole.

"Hah, I sees ye now!" the smithy witch bellowed. "Stealthy as a cat, ye be, young
multitasker. Feeling better, then?" The tiny woman beckoned Carole over, revealing biceps a
weightlifter would be proud to own.

"Yes, thanks." Carole walked into the barn.

The smithy witch pulled white stuffing out of her ears. "And young Mariat, be she faring
equally well?"

"Not quite," Carole said. "She'll be bedridden for a few more days."

"I heard tell the thunderish boom be quite something. Didn't catch the sound of it
myself, though." She tapped the anvil lightly with her hammer. "I tend to make plenty of my own
thunder."

"What's it going to be?" Carole pointed to the iron glowing in the forge. "It doesn't look
big enough for a horseshoe."

"No. I make 'em on occasion, but my main trade be settings for charms and the like." She
sat on a nearby barrel and absently rolled-up her sleeves. "Bin thinking how trouble always likes to
shadow young Mariat."

"Because she's so headstrong?"

"Perhaps some." The smithy witch frowned. "But Mariat not be great friends with every
witch at Westhill, neither. It be certain that lot who jest scurried by, have no loveish feelings
towards her. Wouldn't think a hex or two tossed her way be beyond that bunch."

"But you're all on the same side."

"Times were I thought that, Carole Sylphwood, 'til those Conundrum years showed me
different. Possibly too, ye heard how young Mariat spelled those witchlings a while back?"

"In self-defense. She thought they were vampires."

"Mariat's defense not be the question. The question to be asked is arount the trick
itself."

"I don't follow. Weren't they just trying to scare her?"

The witch took a charred corncob pipe from her apron pocket and stuck it into the
corner of her mouth. "Tis what the others think. Tis what I thought also, 'til I remembered
something. I remember hearing bits of whisperish talk, back when our coven still be hopping
around the countryside looking fer safer places to live, before we settled up north. Those whispers
be 'bout learning vampirish spells."

"The five witchlings," Carole said.

"Seems likely, though I not be entirely certain."

"But we already know they did it."

"That part not be in doubt, multitasker, the part to be doubted is why. Why did they
choose a vampire spell at all? I work by myself in these ole barns and when I not be banging away
on my anvil, others oft forget that I be here. But I hear plenty fine and I tell you fer certain that those
five have a rotten streak in 'em which runs as deep as that lake over yonder. And I know ye see it
too. That be why ye hid like a tree, jest now."

"They did kind of spook me."

"That be why I talk to ye now. Ye and Mariat be good friends, but it still be best to keep
this lore to yerself. Tell none others."

Carole nodded, a little alarmed at the blacksmith's tone.

"There be a thing about spelling oneself to take on vampirish looks. Sometimes ye also
take on vampirish sounds, too."

"Makes sense, I guess."

"Well if four or five witches be spelled to look and sound that way at the same time, then
it be near certain that they'll attract any real vampires that be lurking about."

"Real vampires?"

The smithy witch tapped the side of her nose. "Vampires be solitary, cowardly beasts,
excepting in certain instances. And one of those instances be when they find plenty of blood food
about, like if they stumble upon a herd of cattle or such. When that happens they make lots of noise
to let other vampires know.

"I not be certain if they want others to come arount, or if they jest not be caring if others
turn up. That doesn't really matter. What matters be that those witchlings wanted real vampires to
turn up."

"No!"

"I be certain of it. They say not. They say to Herling that they not be knowing such a
thing could happen, and Herling did believe 'em. But I have two questions rattling arount this skull
of mine. Why need those witchlings to take young Mariat's broom? If they wanted jest to scare her,
why care if she flys away after the prank be played? And why did they choose a vampire trick
instead of something easier?"

"Spelling oneself into a vampire is hard to do?"

"That it be," the smithy witch agreed. "And remember also, that I overheard
whisperings?"

Carole nodded.

"I didn't see who they be, but the whisperers knew fer certain that a group spell would
attract real vampires."

Carole gasped. "Shouldn't you tell Head witch Herling?"

"She knows 'bout all except the whispering, and even I not be totally certain who those
voices did belong to."

"But what if they try again?"

With a chuckle, the smithy witch said, "Those five not likely to attack Mariat again, but
they not likely to forget the embarrassment neither."

"You think they're hexing her."

"Mariat be one strong witchling, and a hex be nothing more than a minor nuisance. Still,
they do add up. Over time enough of 'em could weaken the youngster, and make her vulnerable to
accidents and such. So I be thinking that a warding-off charm might not be such a bad thing."

"Sounds like a good idea to me."

"Except it be a fat chance Mariat agree to wear a charm. She be hard-headed and won't
think she needs such paltry protection."

"She'd be embarrassed to wear it?"

"Mostly it be the village folk who buy such things."

"What do they look like?"

The smithy witch reached into her smock and pulled out a woven black chain from
which hung a sparkling green gemstone that looked like a cat's eye.

"It's beautiful!"

"Bounces mischief right back to the prankster that tries to create trouble. Mightn't help
much, though it certainly couldn't hurt."

"But you think Mariat would be too proud to wear it?"

"Aye."

"Why not give it to her as a get well present?" Carole said after a moment's thought.

"A get well present?"

"It's a gift to cheer someone up and to say, 'I hope you feel better.'"

The smithy witch beamed. "That way Mariat won't think I be calling her a weakling, and
she won't want to hurt my feelings by saying no. Very clever, multitasker. I give it a try, straight
away." She untied her leather apron and tossed it over the anvil. "Ye wish to come?"

"Thanks, but I've still got to find Professor--"

At the sound of approaching footsteps, she turned to see a man and a witch walking
towards the barn. The man was tall and thin, with skin so pale that it reminded her of a grub
worm's. He had thick white eyebrows overhanging fierce-looking eyes, and a great bush of hair so
white that it practically glowed. The witch was short and stout with skin so creviced and wrinkled,
it looked like dried, cracked clay.

"Professor Philamount! I've been looking for you."

"Miss Sylphwood." The specterish man nodded a silent greeting to the smithy witch,
who returned a quick salute before marching off. "Recovered from being blown up?"

"Pretty much."

"Hmm." He studied her face for a few moments, "You are quite certain?"

"Yes."

"Good."

"So what are we doing, then?" she said, when it became obvious that he wasn't going to
say more.

"We?" He cocked his head to one side. "Herling and I are discussing matters which are of
no concern to you, Miss Sylphwood. That is what she and I are doing."

"Mind if I tag along?"

He and the head witch exchanged quick looks.

Herling said gruffly, "I best be checking on Mariat. I send fer ye tonight, Philamount.
Close to sunset." She stalked off after the blacksmith.

"If you truly are well enough, Miss Sylphwood," Professor Philamount said, as he
watched Herling's departure, "perhaps now is an opportune time to work on your accuracy."

"Accuracy?"

"The accuracy of your transdimensional leaps."

"I didn't think you wanted me doing those."

"My wish is not to limit your training. My wish is to keep others from prying."

"Why? What's it matter if anyone else knows?"

"I have my reasons for discretion."

"Which you refuse to tell me." Carole crossed her arms and eyed Philamount with some
irritation.

"I could entertain you with speculation and fanciful musings Miss Sylphwood, but that
wouldn't add to your knowledge or to your peace of mind."

"So you are worried about something."

"I should think that having been responsible for the only porcine stampede in the entire
history of the Hub would be incentive enough for you to wish to keep a low profile."

"It wasn't a stampede. We crashed into the graduation ceremony is all. As you'll recall, it
provided the perfect cover for Martin to get away unnoticed. Besides, it's not like I didn't end the
Great Conundrum in the process."

"Yes, you did. That is not in dispute. However..." The professor looked as though he was
swallowing a nasty pill.

"Cough it up."

"Oh very well. I shall toss you one tidbit and then let us leave it at that."

"If it's a worthwhile tidbit."

The corners of his mouth turned down in the faintest of frowns. "You do realize that
most students would consider it quite an honor to accompany me on a private field trip, let alone to
be personally tutored by me."

"I imagine those would be the same students you haven't chucked out a window,
yet."

A stormy expression flitted across the man's features, and then unexpectedly and quite
uncharacteristically, he guffawed. "Miss Sylphwood, you do take the cake. Perhaps you can be of
some help in all of this, after all. All right, here is your tidbit. Despite the completion of the
dimensional repairs and the termination of the universal wobble, I believe that certain of the effects
of the Great Conundrum are ongoing."

"What do you mean? If all the dimensions are reattached to the Hub, the Conundrum
has to be over. Everything's back to normal."

"That is everyone thinks. Indeed for months we have been receiving reports from
journeying multitaskers saying exactly that."

"So what's the problem?"

"It is not a question of what; it is a question of where? Where is the problem?"

"Okay, so where's the problem?"

"At the Hub itself."

"The Hub?"

"Yes, which is why it took me so long to see it. I have been looking outwards instead of
inwards. And this is why I wish for you to keep a low profile. Your celebrity has to a certain extent
abated, and life at the Hub has calmed down. Now is the perfect time to look."

"For...?"

"That which should not be there."

Carole rolled her eyes. The one thing that continued to irritate her was his habit of
answering questions without actually saying anything.

"So you see, the last thing we need is for you to stir things up with the disclosure of your
Free-Falling abilities. Improve those skills. Discover the extent of your potential. But keep these
discoveries between you and me."

"You still haven't told me what you're looking for."

"Did I not just say that residual effects of the Great Conundrum were still being felt at
the Hub?"

"You didn't say what those effects were."

"Have I never mentioned The Monobrain Effect to you, Miss Sylphwood? How during
the Great Conundrum, multitaskers started to display primitive behaviors and emotions so typical
of the monobrain world. That aside from the physical damage done to the Hub, it was that Effect
which proved most troublesome."

"Okay, I get it. You're looking for people behaving like monobrainers. Like yourself I
might add, with all your cloak and dagger stuff."

"Interesting." Professor Philamount took out a notepad and scribbled down a few
lines.

"I still don't see why my Free-Falling has to be such a big secret?"

"How would the Murtz family have reacted to your ability to Soft-Walk?"

The word
freak
sprang to Carole's mind.

"If members of the Hub
are
still under the influence of the Monobrain Effect,
there is no telling what their response might be?"

"Fine. I'll keep my mouth shut. And that's it?"

"I beg your pardon?"

"Nothing else is worrying you?" Carole said offhandedly.

"You have received your tidbit. It is time for practice."

"Oh, all right. What do you want me to do?"

"I wish for you to attempt a local jump."

"Local?"

"Since you are not restricted to traveling within a transdimensional tunnel, it follows
that you are not necessarily limited to traveling between dimensions. In fact, I see no reason why
any distance great or small, should be a problem."

Carole had to grin. "I hadn't thought of that."

"Perhaps the reason why I am the teacher."

"It's not as if I've had nothing else to think about. Only nine years' worth of homework
dumped on me, while juggling classes from six different grades."

"Nearly a decade to loaf around, and you complain about a little extra school work."

"If I didn't know better, I'd think you were trying to keep me too busy to do anything
else."

"Miss Sylphwood, on one hand you've amassed more transdimensional experience than
my entire graduate class put together, but on the other hand you can barely keep up with a
preschool plasticity class. I've simply designed your curriculum to fill in the holes as quickly as
possible."