Heart of the Staff - Complete Series Read online

  “You left out where you came up with this cure,” said Ugleeuh.

  “Maybe I am getting ahead of myself,” he said. “I got it from the shaman of the Ngop tribe on the Dark Continent.”

  “Tribe?”

  “Well, yes. That's how they're organized. They still use stone tools, as a matter of fact...”

  Ugleeuh gave a snort. “No wonder you left that part out,” she said. “You got a cure for the plague from a heathen witch doctor, and you expect it to work when not even the Elves nor the First Wizard nor any of the rest of the world's learned people could stop it? He was the most powerful wizard ever, and you think some stupid tribesman could actually have the answer? No wonder you forgot your promise...”

  Minuet gasped at this.

  Razzmorten caught her eye and shook his head. “So all knowledge comes from learned people, aye?” he said, squinting at Ugleeuh.

  “You have to ask me?”

  “Well certainly,” he said with a thoughtful nod. “And I see that I have indeed seriously overlooked things. And what frightens me is that you might not be ready to learn from everything around you as do the truly learned minds. Well then. You'll be especially amused to learn that when the First Wizard went to Douar-Noz and died of the plague, thousands of people everywhere there were dying of it, but not one single Ngop did. Doesn't that make you curious as to why that would be?”

  “So? Maybe they were so isolated that they were never exposed, or maybe they have some kind of natural born strength. Just because they didn't get the plague, doesn't mean they can cure it.”

  “That's quite true dear, and I'm still considering these possibilities. But the difference between you and me is that I'm not afraid to entertain the further possibility that the Ngop did find a cure. If I don't, we don't even have a gamble on a cure, since none of the learned have found one.”

  “I suppose not,” she said, rolling her eyes with disdain, “but I'd think you'd at least have the wits to make up a small sample of the oil to try out on some of the sick before you go wasting time sending off ships.”

  “Well I actually don't have wits like that, particularly since we don't have the time, but you'll be delighted to know that the heathen witch doctor gave me enough of the oil that I might be able to keep you and Minuet protected until I can come up with more,” he said with a twinkle in his eye as he set out two small glass vials and two glass pipettes.

  “These are to put six drops under your tongues, six times a day...”

  “But we don't have the plague,” said Ugleeuh.

  “Well, not if you take the drops.”

  “How will you know you have the right plants, tomorrow?”

  “I compared this plant from the Dark Continent with ones in my herbarium, just before you saw me this evening,” he said, pulling out a wilted stem from his bag. He suddenly put it away and stood up. “And I simply must get sleep. But if I don't see you two tomorrow, keep the drops secret at all costs.” He gave a sigh of resolution and pushed away from the table. Minuet stood up and began gathering up dishes. “I caught your look, dear little sister.” she said, reaching in front of Ugleeuh for a spoon. “And I don't trust it. This stuff is serious. If you dare...”

  “You'll what?”

  “It's obvious that you don't have any respect for him, but he does know what he's talking about...”

  “Goody, goody, Minnie-Min. One of these days I'll find out the things the old man's showed you and not me. You can count on it.”

  Minuet watched Ugleeuh leave the table and walk out. “Looks like I'll be keeping Hubba-Hubba where I can keep an eye on him for the next few days,” she thought.

  Chapter 4

  A phoebe had been calling for some time when Razzmorten reached the barn, leaving a trail in the dew in the feeble light. Robins were starting to sing all about as he stepped inside an open bay to find the big hay wagon sitting in the dark. He laid his staff and a brush scythe in the middle of its bed and added a scythe stone from his hip pocket with a bang which sent a pair of swallows twittering out into the new daylight. “Now where the ding-dong blazes is a fork?” he said, stepping into the feed way to feel along the manger for one. “Here.”

  “Father?” said Minuet, stepping into the barn, just as he clambered onto the wagon with the hay fork.

  “Right here, just about to leave.”

  “Bethan said that you slipped out without your breakfast, so...”

  “So that's why I smell something good.”

  “It's four egg in a hole, right off the griddle, in this cloth,” she said, handing up her bundles, “and two nice big cinnamon loaves that she baked yesterday in these other two. I wanted to see you off.”

  “I see you're by yourself.”

  “Well she's not up yet, but after yesterday evening she'll be furious for a month at least.”

  “I guess you'll have to keep an eye on Hubub.”

  “I like Hubba-Hubba better. Oh, she won't be able to get my door open.”

  “Here punkin',” he said as he motioned for her to come have a hug. “I have to hurry.”

  She stood back and watched as he sat in the middle of the wagon with his tools and took out his scrying ball and stared into it for a long quiet moment.

  “That limestone bluff looks good. Yeap,” he said with a decisive nod, not taking his eyes off the ball. “Those hills have got the plants growing all over. Maybe we won't need to go to the Black Desert. That looks like a good spot right there.” And with that, he and the wagon were gone.

  The wagon rolled with a lurch and stopped. The light seemed bright. “Good. It's level,” he said as he grabbed up his scythe and hopped to the ground. He planted its snath by his foot and began grinding away at the blade with his stone. He paused to look out at the blue waters of the Gulf of Orrin and the white birds flying over it below. A rock wren called. He turned and addressed the hillside with his scythe, taking down oregano plants a swing at a time. He worked as the sun climbed, pausing from time to time only to sharpen his blade or to take a swig from his water skin. By the time the sun was nearly overhead, he had taken down almost every oregano plant on the hillside.

  “Well, that ought to make a wagon load when it's cured,” he said. He went to the first plants he had cut and found them quite limp. “These will take all day to dry. I'll bet I can't load them until this time tomorrow.” He picked up his nearly empty water bag. “And I ought to find water if I can. I can't drink salt water.” He took out his scrying ball from his bag and studied it for quite a long spell. He peered at the ridge above from under his hand, and then set out for it, heading inland. At the top he saw another ridge a good way off. “The spring's just beyond that, if I was scrying carefully enough. Well, what else do I have to do?”

  It was a long walk, but after crossing the second ridge he eventually came to a large freshwater spring, surrounded by cottonwoods and willows. He filled his water skin, soaked his clothes and wrung them out to put them back on wet. He sat on a rock in the shade and listened to the rattling leaves of the cottonwood above as the breeze cooled him. “Now what's that?” he said, getting up to snip off the top of a tree seedling. “That is the strangest oak I've ever seen.” He looked at the cut. “Milky sap. That's no oak. My word! This thing has an enchantment. How could a single isolated plant, 'way out here be enchanted? I swear, nothing else out here is.” He picked up his water bottle and set out to follow his tracks back the way he came. “At least the whole countryside seems to be covered with oregano.”

  It was late afternoon by the time he reached his hay wagon. He started checking his downed plants the moment he came down the hilltop, taking hands full of stems and folding them in half. “Not nearly enough of them break yet,” he said at last, standing up with a sigh. “I won't get out of here until noon, tomorrow.”

  He put his water in the shade of the wagon and sat dangling his legs off the side of its bed as he ate one of the cinnamon loaves, listening to the rock wrens and studying the gulf. “I
might be enjoying this if there wasn't such an urgent need for me to get back,” he said. “Maybe I should go down there and wade along the beach until dark.” He took off his hat and shoes and hopped off the wagon to jog downhill, meeting the cries of gulls before he reached the marram grass on the dunes by the water. The tide was out, leaving him a wide beach. He waded well out into the clear water and was fascinated to see a stingray race away from under a cloud of sand, fleeing his foot. He began looking all about for others. “Shit fire!” he said as he grabbed at a sudden pain in the back of his neck. He yanked out a small dart just in time to sit backward into the water and go limp. And he certainly would have drowned at once had it not been for the six indigo colored men with lemon yellow hair who came racing out to him in a fury of splashing and shouts.

  ***

  Minuet sat in the sunshine of the upstairs sewing room, between the tall wool wheel and the loom, embroidering a sketch which she had made of her ewe and lambs grazing by the hollyhocks she had planted by the house. A breeze came and went as a vireo called from the crown of the maple just outside the window. She hummed ever so faintly, turning her hoop this way and that. Suddenly she sat upright with a gasp at the screech of a chair to return immediately to her work, determined to ignore that Ugleeuh was now sitting directly across from her. Hubba-Hubba finished preening his stubble of pinfeathers and gave himself a thorough shake, nearly losing his balance on the edge of his box of rags.

  Ugleeuh champed away at the fistful of hazelnuts she had brought in with her and crossed her legs. She dangled a slipper from her toe. Hubba-Hubba hopped onto the rags in his box and peered out over the edge with one eye. Ugleeuh heaved a sigh and crossed her legs the other way as she dug at the cud in her cheek with her tongue. She popped another hazelnut into her mouth, rubbing her nose as she chewed.

  “Do you actually want something?” said Minuet as she cut her thread and began hunting for another color.

  “Well why else would I be sitting here?”

  “Hard telling...”

  “I was sitting here because you've gotten 'way too-too...”

  “You could have spoken, first thing, and I would have answered,” said Minuet as she threaded her needle on the first try and picked up her hoop. “But you didn't, and since I was enjoying myself before you sat down, I was hoping that you just might let me go on with it.”

  “No, no Minnie-Min. You're just full of yourself since your victory in our little tug o' war, aren't you?”

  “Look Lee-Lee. If that's all you want, I've no time for it. Think whatever you must, but just go somewhere else and do something nice.”

  “Well. Since you were polite enough to ask me, I came in here to find out when Father will get back, since he never tells me anything anymore.”

  “I can't imagine why not,” said Minuet as she turned her hoop over and cut a thread, “but in this case, you could have seen him off just as easily as I did. Besides, he told you he'd take you with him, the first chance he gets. Surely your birthday present isn't more important than saving everyone from the plague.”

  “I don't suppose it ever occurred to you that I might be concerned about him, did it Miss Perfect?”

  “No. That would be a shock.”

  Ugleeuh gave a whooping sob and sprang from her chair, smacking Minuet's embroidery hoop out of her lap as she tramped across the room. “You used to be my best friend!” she wailed as she yanked open the door and wheeled about. “You used to be my champion! You were the one person in this world I could always count on and trust! Now you've turned awful and I'll never, ever forgive you!”

  “I sure was, sweetheart,” said Minuet to the closed door as she knelt to pick up her broken hoop, “but then I woke up to find that no matter what I did for you, every third thing you ever said was a lie.”

  “Do some-thing nice... do some-thing nice... just go some-where else and do some-thing nice...” said Ugleeuh in a giddy sing-song as she whirled and skipped down the hallway. At the head of the stairs she stopped short and leant out the window, straining to hear a couple of hands who were singing grandly as they rode a wagon load of timothy hay to the barn. “Oh my!” she said with a sweet little bounce as she clasped her hands under her chin. “You two are so tone deaf, I need to do something nice to each one of you. Big sister says so...” And with that, she floated down the stairs and skipped outside.

  ***

  When Razzmorten awoke, his eyes flew wide with astonishment in spite of his having not yet recovered from the poison on the dart, for he was surrounded by a whole village of people milling about in excitement, whose entire bodies, even their faces, were covered with short dark indigo fur, except for their long shaggy manes of bright lemon-yellow hair. “Enchantments,” he thought as he struggled to sit upright, immediately discovering that his wrists and ankles were bound. “These beings are enchanted in the same way that the plant I found was.” He glanced at a huge kettle being heated over a fire, but gave it less notice than the butcher knives being laid out just out of his reach. “Good grief!” he said. “Could those be for me?”

  Immediately every eye was upon him as the pandemonium fell silent. “Cat eyes!” he thought, regretting having spoken out. “And cat faces. Are they enchanted people, or could they possibly have been be made from the great indigo lyoth of the Dark Continent? And where did they get the iron tools?” He looked all about as the creatures went back to their energetic business.

  He could see that he was surrounded by a thick forest of trees with strangely twisted trunks. “Where have they gotten me to?” he thought. “This is deep woods. Why, those trees have exactly the same leaves as that enchanted plant.”

  Presently, the noise all about took on the rhythm of beating drums as a particularly tall man with his hair in many braids came and stood before the cutlery. He turned solemnly about and raised his arms to the multitude. “Time to butcher!” he declared in a commanding voice in perfect modern Niarg. “Undo his wrists and ankles.”

  Four large men in loincloths of indigo furred skin stepped forward, ready to get a firm grip on Razzmorten at the bidding of the tall one in the yellow braids.

  “I don't think they dare touch me, Tall Man,” said Razzmorten.

  “It speaks!” boomed Tall Man, as he halted the other four. He cocked his head to one side. “I didn't quite hear what you said, Grey Man. Maybe you could speak up.”

  “I said: they don't dare touch me...”

  “Tall Man threw back his head in a seizure of toothy laughter. “Get on with it!” he thundered as if he had never been laughing.

  The instant the nearest one of the four men grabbed Razzmorten by the neck and arm, the man's chest exploded like a bomb, flinging his head up through the treetops and his limbs sailing end over end through the multitude. The crowd froze in mortified silence, listening with bulging eyes to his entrails pelting down through the foliage all around them.

  Razzmorten popped the sinews binding his wrists and ankles and stood up. “Do you understand what I'm saying, Tall Man?” he said with a fling of his wrist, making the spatters of blood down his front disappear. “I hated doing that to that fellow, but he did touch me in spite of what I told him. So. I suppose I'm free to go then?”

  “It doesn't look like we can stop you,” said Tall Man with a scowl as he whisked a piece of flesh off his shoulder, “but if you ever dare to come back, we'll find a way to kill you.”

  “And I'm afraid that the same thing will happen again,” said Razzmorten. “But I promise you that it is most unlikely that I shall ever return, unless you're foolish enough to try capturing me once more.” He turned and walked away into the brush, stepping carefully over the sticks and briars. When he was certain that he was not only out of sight but had not been followed, he ran until he was winded.

  “It seems like it's only late afternoon, which is very strange indeed after all the things that happened during my capture,” he said as he looked at the slanting shafts of sunlight coming through the canopy. �
��Surely the blue and yellow beasts couldn't have hauled me for league upon league. If I head straight north, I'll undoubtedly come to the Gulf of Orrin before terribly long.” He paused, listening to echoes from calls like voices here and there, far away through the timber. “It keeps sounding like whispers in the trees, but when I stop I can't make out anything like that at all. One thing's certain: I don't recognize any of these bird calls. Now wait. That one did sound like it may have been a great grey owl, but I sure can't picture one of them hollering this early in the day.” It also sounded to him like there had been a crunch in the leaves just a heartbeat after his final footfall, the last time he stopped, but he shook his head and went on.

  “Good wizard...!” said a man with green hair, alabaster skin and pointed ears as he stepped directly into his path with a knapsack covered with leaves.

  “Hoy!” cried Razzmorten, freezing in his tracks at once. “Meri Greenwood?” He steadied himself against a tree.

  “By your aura I have you finally caught,” said Greenwood with a flicker of fury in his emerald eyes. “You know that you can not hide that from me. Now tell me at last, wizard, where have you my lover Celeste done hid? Where did you put the Guardians of the Woods?”

  “You've given me a terrible start, but aren't you indeed Meri Greenwood, Dyn Gwyrdd, as we once knew you?”

  “As if you did not know...”

  “Well I should of course, but I'd expect you to know me every bit as well...”

  “And what deceit would you be now a-trying?”

  “Well if you once knew me, I doubt that you'd think I had put the Guardians any place at all. I daresay that like most mortals, I've never so much as had the chance to meet them. Would this have something to do with my twin, Razzorbauch?”

  Meri took a step forward in the leaves and looked closely at Razzmorten's eyes. He took a step back and chewed for a moment. “Now, you are Razzmorten, ain't ye?” he said, turning aside for a spit.

  “Yes...”

  “And you can certainly mark ye my word to be Meri Greenwood. And so you are here for to covet your brother's handiwork?”