Trixter (8 page)

“Lizinia.” Trix pulled himself up next to her, situating his legs beneath him so that he was once again in a sitting position. His knees had begun to tingle in a warm, unpleasant way, but he took that as a good sign.

“Lizinia,” he called again. He laid a hand on her arm. It was cold to the touch. He tried not to be worried—when he had held her hands before they had been warm, but it was sunny and metal warmed in the sun. In this shade, it was reasonable to believe that she would be cold to the touch for some other reason than…

“Lizinia!” Trix said more urgently. Shaking her was like trying to shake a statue. Around them, the cacophony of warring wildlife carried on. The birds had joined in to fly in the faces of the wasps and the squirrels and chipmunks barreled heedlessly into the fray, but the rest of the forest creatures kept their distance. In a battle between two such deadly enemies, no one wanted to be an accidental casualty…or a post-skirmish snack.

“Is it over?” he heard her say, and he breathed a sigh of relief.

“Not quite,” he admitted. “But I suspect it will be soon.”

She had not yet turned to face him. “I couldn’t beat them,” she said. “I watched them kill you, and I tried my best to avenge you, but there were too many.”

“Lizinia, I’m not dead. A bit worse for the wear maybe, and I’m not sure when my legs will function properly again, but…
oof
.” Like golden lightning she’d sat up and thrown her arms around him in another enthusiastic, Friday-style embrace.

“I was so scared,” she said into his neck.

“You needn’t have been,” he said reassuringly. “I saw you fighting those wasps. You were amazing! And your gold protected you—that’s a handy thing.”

“I was scared for
you
,” she clarified. “Don’t die again. Please.”

“I’ll do my best, but I’ll have a much better chance if you don’t squeeze me to bits first.”

She released him, pulling back to survey the damage. She looked him over from head to toe, tilting her head in that same broken-clockwork way she had before. Trix had only caught a glimpse of his distorted self in the running stream and the eyes of the Wasp Queen—he couldn’t imagine what a mess he’d become. His shirt was gone—not that it mattered, now that he was covered in mud, grass, and river filth from head to toe. There was still webmatter stuck to his hand, and the hilt of the lingworm’s dagger, and he was pretty sure there was some in his hair. Among other things. “Is it really all that bad?” he asked finally.

“Why don’t your legs work?”

“The sting was poison, but not deadly. Queen Sphex never intended to kill me.”

“Sphex? That was her name? Charming,” said Lizinia, in a tone that meant she’d found nothing charming at all about the Wasp Queen. “She was going to take you back to her nest and eat you, I suppose.”

“Probably,” Trix agreed.

“Why are you lying to your friend?” asked the spider on his shoulder.

Trix was ashamed to admit he’d forgotten that his small, hard-shelled champion was still there. “Because she doesn’t need to know.”

“What don’t I need to know?” asked Lizinia.

Trix sighed. His sisters had caught him in this trap a thousand times before. He really should have been better at it. “Sphex wasn’t going to eat me. She was going to lay her eggs inside my body while I was still alive to protect them. And she intended the same for you, too.”

Lizinia wrinkled her nose—the golden skin between her eyes actually wrinkled. “He’s right,” she said to the spider. “I didn’t need to know.”

The spider laughed, which needed little translation.

“I’m Lizinia, by the way. Thank you and your friends for coming to our rescue.”

“I am Bala.” The spider bowed. “And you are welcome, though my family came only to fulfill our obligation.”

“Her name is Bala,” Trix said to Lizinia. “What obligation?” he asked the spider.

There was no time to answer. The Wasp Queen had escaped the Great Spider’s clutches once again, but instead of returning his attack, she flew straight at Trix and Lizinia.

“
MIIIIIIIIIIIIIINE!”

Lizinia’s arm flew forward and hit the Wasp Queen square in the nose. At the same time, Bala let another glob of her sticky webstuff fly, hitting the queen in two of her eyes. The queen roared mightily and headed for the skies, her layers of wings beating the grass around them into a frenzy. The rest of her army—the ones not still actively engaged in battle—followed angrily in her wake, disappearing into the rest of the dark clouds that had moved in overhead.

“Thank you,” Trix breathed. When he found his battered voice again, he spoke to the clearing at large. “Thank you, all.”

The Great Spider came forward. Trix half expected him to be a lumbering brute for all his girth, but this was not the case. The Great Spider moved with ease and silence, the black and gray hairs on his legs waving like a dance. He stopped before Trix and Lizinia and tilted his head down, eyes cast to the ground. Awkward as it was, Trix did the same, bowing as low as he could from his sitting position.

“With respect,” Bala said formally, “may I present Bofu, King of Spiders.”

“I am honored,” said Trix. “King Bofu, I am Trix Woodcutter. This is my friend Lizinia.” Lizinia had caught either Trix’s body language or the hint in his address, for she had bowed her head as well. “We thank you most kindly for your assistance. You have saved our lives.”

“Much obliged,” the king said. His voice was slow and deep and soft. “My apologies for the delay in reaching you. Our home is in the dry valley to the west. We venture here only on hunting days. We find the area…less than hospitable due to its inhabitants.”

Trix felt Lizinia pinch his arm, hard. That valley to the west was where Papa Gatto had tried to send them in the first place and Trix hadn’t listened. Just like Tesera.

“But why in the world would you feel obligated to help me?” The words fell out of Trix all at once and then he remembered he was talking to the King of Spiders. “Your Majesty,” he added quickly.

“We are calling it The Catastrophe of Arilland,” said King Bofu. “You saved the life of a young mother as well as the lives of her children. This part of our family would not be with us today if not for you. It was our honor to come to your aid.” The Great Spider’s words dripped with the wisdom of his years.

“You honor me,” said Trix.

“And me,” Lizinia added. She could not know what the King of Spiders had said, though she seemed adept at picking up clues from only one side of a conversation.

Trix bowed again. “I shall consider the debt repaid, but truly, it was a kindness I would have performed for anyone in that situation. To not do so would have been inhuman.”

The Great Spider chuckled a deep, whuffling laugh, and the fine hairs on his legs shifted like autumn hay in the wind. “With respect,” said the king, “there are only two of you. Needa has hundreds of children. It is possible this ‘debt’ will never be repaid in our lifetime.”

Trix couldn’t help but smile. “Good point.”

“Nor are you so human yourself, are you, Boy Who Talks to Animals?”

Trix bowed his head once again, but this time not in reverence. “No. I suppose not entirely.”

“Then your kindness cannot be attributed solely to your humanity. But it can be credited solely to you. You are a kind boy, Trix Woodcutter, and we are honored to have you in this family.”

“Again, the honor is mine,” said Trix. He hated that he could not stand and bow in respect to this great king, who had summoned his family to save Trix’s sorry carcass. Mama would have been so disappointed. Awkwardly, Trix tried once more to shift his weight into his arms.

“Here, I will help you,” Lizinia said as she got to her feet.

“We will help you,” said King Bofu, almost at the same time. “Our family will accompany you to the stream’s end. From there you and your companion may make your way north unhindered. We will see to it.”

Trix translated for Lizinia, who thanked the spiders politely. She helped Trix rise and positioned him on the back of a short, flat, wine-dark spider with beautiful patterns on its body and legs. Slowly they moved through the thick grass.

Lizinia walked closely beside Trix, helping him should he begin to slide off the spider’s back. Which he did. Almost. A few times. “The flowers don’t seem quite as beautiful as when we first took this path, do they?” she asked quietly.

“They don’t,” said Trix. “I’m sorry I didn’t listen to Papa Gatto.”

“Me too,” she said with a grin.

“Why do you suppose Wisdom’s Tooth brought us this way?”

Lizinia shrugged. “It did hesitate—perhaps it was weighting the chance of wasps against the certainty of spiders. Somehow, Papa Gatto must have known the spiders would welcome you.”

“Still. I’m sorry I got you into this mess.”

“Stop beating yourself up,” she said. “It was scary, yes, but I’m glad to have met your friends. Of course, Papa Gatto may not be so forgiving.”

“No, I imagine not.” Papa Gatto was like Mama Woodcutter in so many ways. Lizinia, on the other hand, was like all of his sisters, and none of them. And the King of Spiders had called him family. Perhaps he was not so alone in the world after all.

“You know,” said Lizinia, “I vaguely remember that I didn’t care for spiders at some point, long ago, though for the life of me I can’t remember why. They are truly lovely creatures.”

“It’s good of you to say that,” said Trix. “Because they’ve adopted me.”

“Have they?” Lizinia said with great condescension. “Did they make you a prince as well? Will you be growing a few more limbs now, to match the rest of you?”

Trix thought her prince joke as good as any his sisters might make, but before he could ask about the second half of what she’d said, a screeching, buzzing whirlwind flew out of the dense foliage.

“
DEATH TO THE HUMANS!
”

T
rix shoved
Lizinia with all his might, getting her as far away as he could before the screeching black body slammed into him. He tumbled off the spider onto the unforgiving ground, thanking his good fortune for what numbness still remained within him and cursing his luck for what had already gone. Once more, he found himself pressed into the dirt by another angry wasp. Though the attack had been a surprise, he found himself less afraid this time. He could tell by the shade of her carapace and the slant of the eyes in her smaller head that his attacker was not the queen.

“Thisbe?” he choked out when he found his breath.

“
DO NOT PRETEND TO KNOW ME, FOUL HUMAN. INSTEAD, KNOW MY WRATH
.”

The blue-black wasp reared up to impale him with her stinger, only to be met by an avalanche of spiders and webbing. They made quick work of wrapping her from head to stinger. Struggle as she might, there was no escape.

“She’s alone,” a tiger-striped spider called from his vantage point in the trees.

King Bofu slunk forward and bent over their bundled foe. “What would your queen say if she knew you were here against her orders?”

Thisbe’s voice was muffled by webstuff, but she managed to make herself understood. “She would commend me for my brave sacrifice.”

“Or exile you for insanity,” said Bala.

“Perhaps it is a blessing, then, that you will never know,” said King Bofu. “Bring her along. She will make a lovely present for my wife.”

“What will they do with her?” Lizinia asked as she helped Trix back up onto the back of the spider he’d been riding. It was slightly less awkward this time, as the feeling in his legs had transformed from a vague sparkly numbness to a shadow of the fire he’d felt when he’d first been stung. More painful, but more useable.

Trix tried to think of a way to put it kindly. “She will be presented to the queen.”

“Ah,” said Lizinia. And then, as she understood, “
Ah
.”

“I do not envy Thisbe her fate,” said Trix.

“Says the half-paralyzed boy currently using a spider for legs. I don’t imagine anyone would envy
you
after all you’ve been through recently. You are a stubborn thing, Trix Woodcutter.”

“I get that from my mother,” he said lowly. “Or so I’ve heard.”

“Was she unbreakable, too, your mother?”

Lizinia knew that she was not, since they were traveling to her sepulcher, but she had asked the question so he must answer. “No,” he said. “I suppose that part is all me.”

“I suppose it is.”

As promised, the spiders delivered them safely to the stream’s end. The lush, flowering greenery gave way to a forest of trees—nothing like the old, dense Enchanted Wood Trix knew from home, but the place felt familiar enough to him all the same. He and Lizinia both thanked the spiders profusely, bowing so many times as they bid their farewells that Trix thought his head might just fall off his poor body.

The spiders had set him up beneath a sturdy oak tree. Though all his limbs were now functioning properly, he still felt as worn out as one of Mama’s old dishrags. Lizinia had offered to collect firewood, but Trix had no firestone or wisplight to make it burn. Nor had they encountered any more helpful animal friends along their travels, most animals having sense enough to stay away from a king’s legion of spiders. He took the risk of sending her off to hunt down what berries and other edibles she could—he’d just sort through them all upon her return to make sure she hadn’t stumbled upon anything dangerous.

In her absence, he took stock of the situation. By the spiders’ reckoning, they were now back on track and would reach Rose Abbey within the next day. His considerable lack of shirt and shoes made him somewhat less than presentable—Mama would be mortified if she knew he’d be calling on one of his many aunts in such a state. He might have asked the spiders to pause at stream’s end for a bath, but it seemed a frivolous request, requiring more energy than he suspected he had at the moment.

He lifted Wisdom’s Tooth from its place on his weary, dirty chest, thankful that Lizinia’d had the presence of mind to fashion the necklace for him. Everything in his shirt pockets was gone now, but they still had the bag of apples, both golden and flesh. The first would only serve as sustenance if they happened upon an inn or waystation in this forest—the latter would have to serve in the meantime, no matter how battered and bruised the fruit might be for all its unintended adventuring.

For some reason, Wisdom’s Tooth seemed smaller than it had when he’d rescued it from the surf at his feet. But then, it was hard to believe that he’d encountered the lingworm only a few days ago.

He hoped the abbess would pity them enough to offer a bed for the night. Trix missed sleeping in a real bed.

“Papa Gatto said we should stay here until daybreak.” Lizinia dropped the contents of her skirt at Trix’s feet—a variety of roots and berries and mushrooms and moss…very little of it edible.

“Just as well,” he said. His voice was still raspy from screaming, and he seemed to have lost all control over his tonal register. “I’ve fallen asleep three times since you’ve been gone.”

“I don’t mind. It’s been a long day. You deserve your rest.” She held up her treasures. “Do you want to eat something first?”

“You’re welcome to the blackberries,” he croaked. “Beyond that I’m afraid it will have to be apples.”

Lizinia sighed and nodded, plopping down cross-legged beside him. “You sleep. I’ll keep watch.”

“Rest if you can,” Trix said with a yawn. “The spiders said they would keep us safe. And you never know what adventures tomorrow will bring.”

“With you, Trix Woodcutter, that is a real threat.”

Trix wanted to laugh in earnest at her jest, but the stress of the day was settling into his weary, tortured bones. He gathered the dry leaves at the base of the tree, curling up and making himself as comfortable as he could. It was a shame they didn’t have a fire, but it was a pleasant enough evening. There was only the slightest chill in the crisp autumn night, but only because he wasn’t fully clothed. Just as long as…

And then he heard it: three plinks in quick succession from somewhere in Lizinia’s direction, followed by three more.

“Trix? I think it’s—”

The sky opened up.

“—raining.”

*

Earth breaks.

Fire breathes.

Waters bless.

Fly to me, my son.

T
rix woke
to Lizinia staring at him. She still wore her dark hooded cloak, but her golden dress was hidden beneath the plain white robes of an acolyte.

Trix sat straight up. Blankets and sheets fell away from his body.
Blankets
.
Sheets
.
Bed
. He was in a bed.

“Where am I?” Trix put a hand around his throat. His wrecked voice was still hollow. “What happened?”

Lizinia handed him a goblet of water. “I fell asleep under the tree in the rain and woke up the next morning, but you did not. You were cold and shaking and I was…worried. So I carried you.”

“You carried me all the way to the abbey?” Lizinia was obviously far stronger than he’d realized.

“There didn’t seem to be much choice.”

“You could have waited.”

“I’ve waited for most of my life. I believe I am tired of waiting. Besides, the animals helped. They all knew the way. There are many animals here. And some beautiful gardens.” Trix could tell from Lizinia’s humor that she, too, was adequately rested.

“All those diversions and you decided you’d rather spend your time staring at me?”

She shrugged. “I haven’t gotten tired of looking at you yet.”

“Thank you…I guess.” While it was true that the animals constantly sought him out, Trix wasn’t used to any
person
being so fascinated with him. Even in a family as special as the Woodcutters, he was just one of many. Because of their closeness in age, he and Sunday had always been thick as thieves, but even she had never been…enraptured…simply by his presence. He wasn’t sure how he felt about it.

He did, however, feel cleaner, warmer, and well-rested. He was on a cot in some sort of bedchamber, covered in hand-stitched quilts and—blessedly—fully clothed in a fresh shirt and trousers. He put a hand to his chest and was relieved to find Wisdom’s Tooth still with him.

“Did you know they separated the men’s rooms and the women’s rooms here?” Lizinia asked him. “It seems that a great deal more women than men visit this place, so the women’s rooms are much larger and grander.”

“Why didn’t you stay there? Do some exploring?”

Lizinia averted her eyes. “I find I don’t care for being alone.”

Trix tried to imagine the days, months, years that Lizinia had been alone in the house of cats after the colony had perished. So much loss…it was no wonder she craved companionship now that she had escaped her prison. “I’m surprised they let you in the men’s wing, then. Places like this don’t normally do that.”

“Oh, they didn’t want to,” Lizinia admitted. “Your aunt put up quite a fuss. But in the end she told me I was….very persuasive.”

If the abbess was anything like Mama, Trix imagined that exchange had been quite a scene. He was almost sorry to have missed it. More immediately, his stomach was sorry to have missed whatever dinner had been served during his unexpected slumber. It caught the scent of food and growled with a tremendous ferocity that made Lizinia laugh.

“You may not always want to eat, Trix Woodcutter, but your stomach certainly does.”

“I’m a growing boy,” he said. It’s what he always said.

“You don’t think you’ve grown enough already? Goodness.” Even as she teased him, she crossed the room to retrieve a covered silver plate. “The abbess sent this for you, when you awoke. I am to tell you that the deer was shot with blessed arrows, and that its soul was honored in the Hall of the Mother Goddess. She said it would matter to you.”

“It does, thank you,” said Trix. When possible, Trix did not partake of the meat of his animal brethren, though he had done so when times were tight, food was scarce, and needs must. Knowing that this meal had been blessed by the Earth Goddess, that the animal had not suffered unduly and had gone on to serve his purpose in the cycle of life made Trix’s heart easier about sating the mad hunger within him. Servants of this goddess saw to the needs of all earth’s creatures, be they human, fey, animal or otherwise. Under this roof, Trix could be assured that none of this friend’s sacrifice had been wasted, and that the balance of the world had been maintained.

Which was good, as he had witnessed too much unbalancing of the world lately.

“The abbess said she was your mother’s sister,” said Lizinia. “Both of your mothers.”

Trix nodded while shoving bread and meat and cheese alternately into his gob. If Lizinia minded his lack of social graces, she thankfully made no mention of it. “My grandmother had seven children, all girls.”

“Goodness,” said Lizinia. “You all have such great, large families. Peppina was difficult enough—I can’t bear to think of five more like her.”

“It’s a challenge and not without adventure. Much like living with cats, I imagine.” Trix reached down for more food and found that he’d already cleaned his plate. Lizinia handed him the rest of the loaf of bread from the table, but left the pretty bowl of apples there untouched. He might be sad not to see another apple again, but that wouldn’t be for a very long time.

“My birthmother was the fourth born,” he told her. “The abbess was the sixth. Mama Woodcutter was the seventh.” Trix considered his own gaggle of sisters. Thursday had been the fourth born and she’d run away to become a pirate queen, much as Tesera had run off to become an actress. Saturday was sixth in line and Sunday was the seventh. Despite all her wishes to the contrary, Trix could see Sunday taking after Mama, given time. For the life of him, though, Trix could not imagine Saturday in the role of abbess. Saturday was far more likely to fight a god—or
be
a god—than she was to spend her life worshipping one.

Once again, there was suddenly nothing left to eat. Trix sighed. “Speaking of my aunt, I suppose I better clean up and go see her.” His birthmother’s chant echoed in his ears:
Earth breaks; fire breathes; waters bless. Fly to me, my son.
“And get the rest of this over with,” he added. He walked over to the full-length mirror, but turned back to Lizinia before examining himself in it. “You don’t have to do that, you know. The acolytes will take care of it.”

Lizinia fluffed up his pillow and straightened his rumpled bedsheets with a practiced hand. “This is something I know how to do,” she said. “Let me do it.”

So he did. Trix shrugged and turned back to the mirror. Not that it was much help, as it seemed to be a Lying Mirror. The face inside its worn, gilded frame was definitely not his own. He lifted a hand and waved. The young man in the mirror waved back. Trix poked at the mirror—it seemed solid enough. Then he poked at his face. The image also poked his face.

“This mirror is broken,” he said.

Lizinia pulled the top sheet of the bed tight and walked over to stand behind him. “No, it’s not.”

Trix pointed at the image before him. “Then who is
THAT
?” His shattered voice broke on the last word.

Lizinia surveyed the young man in the mirror from head to toe. Matter-of-factly she stated, “It’s you.”

Trix studied the image again in horror and fascination. The man in the mirror had his wild cinnamon hair, dark brows and dark eyes, but he was taller than Trix had ever been, and easily twice as wide. Not quite so broad in the shoulders as his woodcutter brother Peter, but still far more substantial than the boy who’d run from the towerhouse. Trix prodded his arms through the sleeves of his new shirt. There were
muscles
there, not spindly, breakable skin and bones. No wonder he’d been able to pull himself up so easily after that terrible wasp’s sting. Well, there’d certainly be no more shimmying into mole holes and rabbit warrens for him…but when had this happened?

And then his attention shifted back to Lizinia’s reflection, staring at him again with that cockeyed, clockwork tilt of her head…the same look she’d been giving him since he’d left the cats’ house…