Chicks - Did You Say Chicks Part 8

"Here goes," she said quietly and began to sign.

The surface of the mushroom bucked, knocking the pen from her hand. Laura jumped back as the mushroom s.h.i.+fted and melted and folded in on itself like origami. Within seconds, her agent stood where it had been. "No! Stop!" he yelled.

"Robert!" Laura cried. Though she had been expecting it-rather, she'd prayed that she hadn't screwed up big time-the sight of the wiry little man startled her.

"You sign anything and I'll-" He lunged at Laura. She, in perfect form, shrieked her trademark Xora battle yell, subconsciously evaluated weight, strength, positioning, and anatomy, and shot amae geri kekomifront thrust kick that caught Robert in the chest. Three point two seconds after launch, her agent plopped to the ground like a goblin balloon bomb.

The snooty elf, apparently waiting invisibly for such a moment, formed out of the air and waved his hands. A translucent bubble of green light englobed Robert. Or whoever he was. Whoever he was stood groggily and pounded on the inside of the bubble.

"You'll never work in this dominion again! You hear me?" He kicked the bubble and shouted and cursed some more, all to no avail. At last he gave up, sat, and sulked, looking more like a pouty child than a...

than a slick-talking, career-sabotaging a.s.shole.

The goblin director approached the bubble. He raised a palm, where an official-looking badge appeared. "Gurack Thornhollow, FBI. You, Puck, alias Robin Goodfellow, alias Robert Goldfarb, are hereby charged with grand theft, use of a veilstone without authorization, breaking and entering into a forbidden reality, and behavior unbecoming the Designated Shrewd and Knavish Sprite of Faerie. You will be detained until you stand trial before your peers and the High Court." A pair of little gold handcuffs manifested in his hands. With a twinkle they vanished and reappeared clasped around Robert's-Puck's wrists.

Laura felt her eyebrows arch up to her hairline. She gawped at the ugly little goblin. "You're acop?"

"Faerie Bureau of Intervention, ma'am. Undercover specialist."

"But I thought you were just another jerk director."

The goblin waved a hand through the air with a flourish. "Acting!"

"Brilliant!"

"Thankyou!" He bowed from the waist. Nnagartha crossed her arms sternly. Her face was distressed, but not angry. Like a mother scolding a troublesome child, she said, "Puck. Why?"

The being in the bubble was no longer disguised as Robert Goldfarb. Instead, his naked green-gold skin, pointed ears, and wide comical face made him look less arrogant, almost... puckish.

"You stopped paying attention tome,"he said. "I was the King's and the lands most favored entertainer!"

He pointed a long finger at Laura. "Untilshecame into our homes on the mages' boxes. It was I the people wanted, who played tricks and j.a.pes, then sang songs and made the people laugh even in the darkest times. Until Xora, untilher."

Laura nodded. "That merry wanderer of the night. You jest to Oberon and make him smile, when you a fat and bean-fed horse beguile. And then the whole quire hold their hips and loff, and waxen in their mirth, and swear a merrier hour was never wasted there."

"Aye," said the prisoner softly.

"Lady?" Nnagartha said.

"t.i.tania, summer stock."

"Ah. You realize, Lady, the risk you undertook? The magic was real, otherwise it would not have convinced him of your sincerity. If you had actually signed the contract, the veil would have closed and the stone used to create it would have been spent. There are no more veilstones known. You would have been trapped here. Very likely forever."

"That's what I figured."

The director-c.u.m-detective puffed on an elaborate curved pipe. "What I don't understand is how you knew?"

"Easy. You gave me the clue. 'They'll pay more attention to it than anything else,' you said. 'Even the Jesters Guild has tossed in the towel.' I know what it's like to be a replaced performer, to be out on the streets two minutes after that final curtain drops. Let me tell you, it never gets easy and you never get used to it. I realized that withXoraat the top of the ratings around here, there was someone else whohad beennumber one for a long time beforehand. If I were that someone, I would be more than a little p.i.s.sed.

Maybe p.i.s.sed enough to be tempted to do something about it. I gambled that the last thing he would want wasmegetting his permanent four-star engagement with all the frills."

"I am a fool," Nnagartha said. "This is largely of my own making. Mine and the other peoples of the land.

We should not have been so... distracted. That will carry weight in his favor with the High Court."

Laura squatted to look at Puck eye to eye. "After that, it was easy to figure out that the only new person in my life, beginning the same time as the strikes and the production shut-down and my problems with Terry, was my new agent-the miracle worker, as I called him."

"Hey!" R. Goodfellow managed to look indignant. "I had nothing to do with your piddling relations.h.i.+p problems. That's allyourdoing, and I'm not the least bit surprised about it. Criminy, if I were your mate I would have packed my bags long before Terry did. It doesn't take magic stones to see that you're more career-centered than people-centered!" He'd done a good job picking up earthly jargon. How much of that came from our TV shows, she wondered. Still, if he had meant to sting her, it worked. Hard. Gurack paced the area authoritatively. "And you deduced that he was disguised as the mushroom because the mushroom hadn't been here when we arrived."

"Actually, 'guess' is a more accurate word than 'deduce.' But yes."

"You realize, I trust, that sudden manifestations of giant mushrooms and similar flora are no surprise around here."

"It was to me!"

Gurack nodded thoughtfully, cogitating on this new deductive approach.

Nnagartha said, "The trickster now owes you a boon. He must grant you one wish, whatever it may be.

And I a.s.sure you, he will do it well and willingly." Her voice carried a threat, and Puck nodded vigorously. "You were the victim of his ability to shape the wills of others. If you like, you may use that ability to your own advantage. It is only fair."

She indicated the window. It was steady now. The image of her backyard pool was crisp and clear and inviting. A familiar person-a beautifully, lovingly familiar person-sat on the edge of the pool.

"Jesus! What's Terry doing there?" ItwasTerry! Back at home. Talking with someone else- "Jesus! What'sBrandoing there!"

Bran's voice resonated from the window as he stroked Terry's blonde hair. "Lady," he was saying to the lovely woman, the most important writer in Laura's life, "Where I am from, a man shouts his love for his woman to the trees and the hills and the stars..."

"Christ!" Laura shot to her feet. "How am I going to explain that?"

"You could use the boon," Nnagartha said, sounding all the world like a butch Glinda the Good. "You could make sure that she came back to you and stayed with you."

It was tempting.

"No," Laura said. "This one is my problem. I want Terry to want to come back on her own. We have a lot of talking to do."Heart to itself: nice work, kiddo.

"As you wish, Lady. Is there any other boon you desire instead?"

She wanted to sprint through the veil, usher Bran back through it, and watch it vanish. But not yet.

"There is one." She c.o.c.ked her head at the sulking figure in the bubble. "He knows what it is. I need a good agent again. I suspect he had a hand in getting rid of my former agent. He can help Adam and fix that particular problem, if you please."

"As you say, Lady."

Ruby slippers? Cut that c.r.a.p. Laura stepped toward the window. The sun was setting on the meadow, the glittering city, and the cast and crew ofXora: Avenger Priestess-Special Edition. Maybe they had enough material for a travel doc.u.mentary. The window wavered and dimmed as she crossed through it. Bran pa.s.sed her going the other way, looking puzzled. The last thing Laura heard was the dragon chatting with someone near the brook.

"Acting's fine for a start," the beast exclaimed. "But what I really want to do is direct."

A Bone to Pick

Marina Frants & Keith R. A. DeCandido

"They're having another council," Matrena whispered, leaning over the fence into Va.s.silisa's garden.

Neither the whispering nor the leaning was necessary-besides Va.s.silisa, the only living creatures within earshot were the half-dozen chickens milling aimlessly outside their coop, and Va.s.silisa's cat asleep in a sunny spot on the windowsill. But Matrena liked nothing better than telling a secret, so when no secret was available she made do by delivering ordinary p.r.o.nouncements in a conspiratorial whisper. "They've been in there since sunrise!"

Va.s.silisa looked up at the sky. It was almost noon. "And they say we talk a lot. What are they waiting for, a message from Heaven?" She scooped a handful of seed from her ap.r.o.n pocket and tossed it to the chickens, who immediately began fighting over it.

The town's men had spent most of the week trying to decide what to do about the Tatars, who had sacked five nearby villages in the past month, and who were now rumored to be less than three days south of Voronye. The town elders had sent messengers toKiev , asking for soldiers to protect them. The messengers came back with notes saying that "the request from the n.o.bletowns.h.i.+pofVoronye is being taken under advis.e.m.e.nt by the Tsar." Whoever did the Tsars advising must not have considered Voronye all that n.o.ble, though, since no soldiers were forthcoming.

So the men held councils, the women whispered across fences, and no one actually did anything.

"It's a hard thing to decide-" Matrena began, but Va.s.silisa interrupted.

"There's nothing hard about it! The soldiers aren't coming. We have to protect ourselves."

"We can leave."

"The Tatars are nomads. They're used to traveling all the time. Most of us have never even left this town.

While we stumble around trying to get our horses to do something other than pull a plow, the Tatars will catch up and pillage us on the road instead of here."

"Heaven forbid," Matrena made a quick warding sign. "Must you always believe the worst, Vaska?"

Va.s.silisa winced. She hated being called Vaska, but she had long ago given up complaining about it.

Besides, Matrena wouldn't let her get a word in as she barrelled onward: "That's what comes of living all alone for too long, with only chickens for company. You need a husband, a few little ones to cheer youup. You know my sister's boy, Danillo, is looking for a wife."

Va.s.silisa suppressed a sigh. Only Matrena would think of matchmaking with the Tatars knocking at the door.When they come, she'll probably ask them to marry her nieces, she thought.

Matrena seemed to be waiting for a response, so Va.s.silisa said, "I'm sure Danillo can find someone pretti-someone more suitable than me."

Matrena was not to be dissuaded. "He's not looking for a beauty, you know." Va.s.silisa bit her tongue.

"You cook well, and keep a clean house. That makes up for a lot."

Even for freckles and hair the color of carrots? Just what I've always wanted, to be courted for my borscht recipe. Va.s.silisa searched for a politely neutral response, but before she could think of one, the subject of the conversation came walking up the path toward Matrena's yard.

"Danillo!" Matrena ran to the gate to let him in. "Is the council over? Have they decided what we're going to do?"

"Yes, Auntie." Danillo kissed Matrena on the cheek and gave Va.s.silisa a polite nod. "We will leave tomorrow morning and head forKiev . If the Tsar won't send soldiers to protect us, he can shelter us instead."

"Tomorrow morning!" Va.s.silisa shrieked in a voice that sent the chickens scurrying back into their coop.

"How far do you think we'll get, with less than two days' start? The Tatars will ride us down before we're halfway there!"

"They'll kill us for sure if we stay here," Danillo said irritably. "What else can we do?"

"We can stay and fight," Va.s.silisa snapped. "If the Tsar won't help, we must ask elsewhere."

"Elsewhere?" Danillo repeated incredulously. "If not the Tsar, then where? Do you propose to climb to the sky and ask the Sun for help?"

"No. I propose to go into the forest, and ask Baba Yaga."

She knew as soon as she spoke that she made a mistake. Matrena and Danillo gaped at her. Then they both fell back a step, and made signs against the evil eye.

"Don't even joke about such things," Matrena gasped. "She's a witch, Va.s.silisa."

"I know she's a witch. That's why she can help. If we can find her-"

"Enough," Danillo interrupted. "This is hard for all of us, Va.s.silisa. I know you're frightened, and saving things you don't really mean. So I'll forget all this talk of seeking help from witches, and so will Matrena.

Now you go start gathering your things, and stop talking nonsense." He folded his arms across his chest, and jutted his chin at Va.s.silisa. It wasn't much of a chin, but Va.s.silisa pretended to be impressed.

"I'm sorry, Danillo. You're right-it's only my fear talking. I will see you later." And she fled into the house, before she could say anything else to shock the neighbors.

"Stop talking nonsense, he says." Va.s.silisa paced the length of her house, muttering to herself and kicking the furniture. "They're planning to try andoutwalka Tatar horde, and he tellsmeto stop talking nonsense?" She kicked the wall this time. The shelves rattled. She had already overturned one chair, and sent a jug full of cream cras.h.i.+ng to the floor, much to the delight of the cat. Va.s.silisa considered cleaning it up, then decided not to bother. The whole house would be ashes in three days' time, anyway, unless someone did something.

Unless you do something. The thought kept popping up again and again over the past hour. Va.s.silisa stopped her pacing, and looked around her home. It didn't take long-she had just the one small room, dimly lit by the early afternoon sunlight filtering in through the two windows. There wasn't much furniture, and the only spot of color was a woven rug patterned with white and yellow roses that Va.s.silisa made the year before. Not exactly the Tsar's palace inKiev , but it was hers, and she had no wish to lose it.

Va.s.silisa made up her mind all at once. Shewouldgo into the forest and look for Baba Yaga. Let Matrena and Danillo quake in their shoes and make warding signs. As far as Va.s.silisa was concerned, a choice between witchcraft and dying was no choice at all.

There was no point in lengthy preparations-she planned to be back by next morning or not at all.

Va.s.silisa put out extra food for both the chickens and the cat, and wrapped up half a loaf of bread to take with her. The other half she put on a saucer together with a small bowl of salt, and placed the saucer by the oven in the hope that it would bribe thedomovoito guard the house from mishap while whe was gone. A pair of st.u.r.dy shoes, a red shawl to keep her shoulders warm, and she was ready to go.

She didn't see a soul on her way out of town. Presumably, everyone was at home, packing up their possessions for the journey.Just as well, Va.s.silisa thought. Given the mood she was in, if someone asked where she was going, she would probably tell them. She had a bad moment as she walked past the church, imagining Father Pyotr's reaction to her plan, but the church doors were shut, and the priest was nowhere in sight. Va.s.silisa breathed a deep sigh of relief, and sped up her steps.

Three hours later, she was beginning to wish that Father Pyotr had been there to stop her. She had never gone this far into the forest before. It was much larger, and darker, than she expected. There were no paths, no clearings, no sign of human life at all. The trees grew so close together that their roots intertwined. It seemed to Va.s.silisa that she had tripped over every single one of these roots in the course of one afternoon's walk. All she had to show for her grand quest were a torn dress, sc.r.a.ped knees, aching feet, and twigs festooned about her hair.

"The Devil take this forest, and every tree in it," she muttered as she picked herself up off the ground for the thousandth time. Was it her imagination, or did that last withered root actually move to snag her ankle as she tried to step over it? "How hard can it be to find a hut that walks on giant chicken legs? You'd think a witch that likes to eat human flesh would make herself easier to find when human flesh actually came looking for her." She brushed the dirt off her skirt, and resumed walking.

Ten paces later, she was flat on the ground again. This time she knew the bare, dead-looking oak tree in her path had tripped her on purpose. She actually saw the root moving just before she fell. Va.s.silisa sat up, rubbed her elbow where she bruised it in the fall, and tried to think. She was not going to get anywhere if she had to fight the forest every step of the way. Already, the shadows grew long. It would be dark soon. Va.s.silisa didn't relish the thought of spending the night outside, but she was not turning back. If nothing else, she wasn't sure she'd find the way. She hadn't expected to be out this long, and thebits of string she'd left to mark her path would be invisible in the dark. Baba Yaga was her only chance, not only of saving the town, but of ever seeing the wretched place again.

"I'm not leaving," she announced to the forest at large. "Do you hear me, Yaga? I'm not leaving! You might as well show yourself, because I'm staying in this forest until I either find you or drop dead!"

Her only answer was the rustle of leaves, and the call of wild geese somewhere in the distance. Va.s.silisa abruptly realized how foolish she must sound, sitting there covered in dirt and twigs, yelling at the trees.

She stifled a laugh, and climbed to her feet again, resolved to keep walking until dark.

As soon as she stood up, she saw something that she could swear hadn't been there before her last fall: a narrow path weaving through the trees. Va.s.silisa stared at it suspiciously. Had she missed it before, or had it just appeared? Was it an invitation from Yaga, or a trick? Would lead her in circles until she was hopelessly lost?