Kassa frowned. “I’m not going to like having you around if you make a habit of being right.” She held her nose and jumped headfirst at the mirror. It swallowed her up with a shloopy sound.
Sparrow sighed, wishing she had back her armour. Any armour. Still clad only in her black shift and leggings, she stepped cautiously towards the mirror.
Shloop.
Sparrow’s fingers curled and clenched tightly over a jagged corner of rock. She had a reasonably firm grip, which was a good thing because that grip was all that supported her body. She glanced down, and a dizzying view of waves crashing over the rocks below swirled before her eyes until she forced her gaze upwards again and stared resolutely at the wall of rock from which she was hanging. The last thing she remembered was stepping through the mirror…to here? What was this place?
Kassa also clung to the cliff-face, her purple nail polish chipped from her frantic scrabbling to grasp a hand hold. She gritted her teeth in an expression of total concentration.
“Well,” said Sparrow. “This is fun so far. What happens next?”
“Anything’s possible,” Kassa flung back. “This is the OtherRealm. The moonlight dimension, the land of the fey and all that. At least, I assume it’s the OtherRealm. I don’t remember any cliffs last time. What do you suggest we do?”
Sparrow scanned the rocks high above them. “I assume you have no climbing skills whatsoever.”
“Good assumption,” Kassa agreed. “Go with that.”
“And may I also assume that the rules here are different to those of the real world?”
“I think we can take that for granted.”
“Nothing seems to be happening here,” Sparrow said thoughtfully. “I suggest we move along to the next stage of the test. We might find something a little more challenging, yes?”
Kassa swung her head slightly aside in order to glare fiercely at her new companion. “You want to jump, don’t you!”
“Frankly,” said Sparrow. “I do.”
“Oh, all right,” Kassa snapped. “But if we end up smashed on those rocks down there, I’m blaming you.”
“Be my guest,” said Sparrow. “On the count of three?”
“One,” said Kassa.
“Two,” contributed Sparrow.
They both pushed off from the cliff and let go at the same moment.
“You cheated!” yelled Kassa as the wind whistled through her hair. “You tried to go first!”
“So did you!” Sparrow retorted as they fell.
“We’re going to die!”
“What is it like?’
“Surprisingly dull so far.”
The rocks came up to meet them, and everything went temporarily purple.
29: Faeryland with Teeth
“I’ve been here before,” said Kassa, spitting out a mouthful of moss. The purple haze cleared, leaving them in the familiar mist-wreathed woodland clearing. “If only I knew what I was supposed to do.”
Sparrow stared in disgust at her boots. “My people are raised to despise the moonlight creatures. They are everything we hate. They trick and tease and twist reality.”
Kassa peered at the dandelions which emerged from under Sparrow’s boots. “Does that happen everywhere you go?”
“It’s part of the illness.” Sparrow shrugged it off. “I swallowed liquid gold. If I do not travel in time regularly, I get sick. Every time I do travel in time, I risk destroying everything.”
Kassa frowned. “The dandelions are a symptom?”
Sparrow stomped at the flowers, which refused to budge. “More of a metaphor, I think.” A squeak came from beneath her boot. Sparrow lifted it, slowly. She stared. “What the grit are you?”
A rather squished silver faery emerged from beneath the leather sole. “It was a present,” she said sulkily. “We always give presents to people we like, and your blood is such a pretty glittery gold colour. Everyone likes flowers.”
“I do not,” snapped Sparrow.
Kassa knelt down and held out her hand. The faery hopped into it, fluttering her silver wings and sniffing loudly. “Hello, little thing,” said Kassa softly, trying not to startle it.
“Do not even talk to the evil wight,” snapped Sparrow. “They have been following me around, scattering their poison everywhere I go.”
The silver faery blinked. “What’s poison?”
“Do you not know?” demanded Sparrow. “You made a deal with the Brewmistress to unleash your golden plague on the mortal world so that you could get a toehold in the Underworld. Did you not?”
The silver faery blinked. “What’s an Underworld?”
Sparrow stared. “Are they all this stupid?”
Kassa shrugged. “I suppose so. What were you saying about the Underworld?”
“Do you not have a quest to be getting on with?” Sparrow complained.
“But this is far more interesting!”
Sparrow glared hard at the little faery, and flicked it with her finger. “If you are all this stupid, then who made the deals with Mistress Opia and the Sultan?”
“With who and who?” interrupted Kassa.
Sparrow rolled her eyes. “Quest?” she reminded in an unfriendly voice.
Kassa sighed. “This is stupid! Since when did witches go on quests, anyway?” Her eyes lit up. “Of course. Witches don’t. No one makes a witch do anything she doesn’t want to. This is all complete pigswill. As long as a witch harms no one, she can do what she pleases. I don’t have to do any kind of quest!”
The little silver faery crossed her eyes. “Congratulations,” she sniffed. “You’re a witch!” She vanished.
Kassa grinned around proudly. “I’m a witch!”
“Congratulations,” said Sparrow flatly, scrabbling in the grass for more flowers.
Kassa’s face fell. “I forgot. You still need to be cured…”
“It does not matter,” Sparrow insisted. “I can handle it myself.”
Kassa crossed her arms, resolute. “You travel with Daggar. That means you travel with me.”
“Do I get any say in the matter?”
“Of course not.”
Sparrow grimaced. “No wonder Silversword turned out the way he did.”
They hiked through the mists for what seemed like hours, dodging various slimy creatures and wing-flapping wyrdings; getting nowhere fast. “Time must be the key,” mused Kassa.
“Took you that long to figure it out?” shot back Sparrow. “What about time?”
Kassa was frowning. “There is no time in the Underworld. Is there in the OtherRealm?”
Sparrow’s temper was shortening rapidly. “I don’t know, ask a faery.” She stopped short. “Oh, these gritsucking flowers!” She yanked on one of the bright yellow blooms and it came away from the ground easily, bringing a full-sized faery maiden with it. The maiden’s eyes widened in recognition as she saw Kassa. She hid behind a tree. “Please don’t hit me.”
“Have you been bullying faeries?” asked Sparrow, finally amused by something.
“We’ve met before,” admitted Kassa.
The faery maiden lifted her face and wiped her nose on a sleeve made out of sunshine. “I only came to give the message.”
“What message?” snarled Sparrow.
“The message from Mrs Suede!” said the faery maiden unhelpfully.
“What message?” Sparrow repeated, starting to believe that all the inhabitants of the OtherRealm were equally moronic. They certainly made her troll tribe look extra smart.
“Um,” said the faery maiden, and then brightened. “Oh, yes. She wants to see you!”
All the lights went out. A sudden, uncompromising blackness blotted out everything visible. “Are you there?” whispered Kassa.
“Just about,” replied Sparrow. “Where are we this time?”
There was a sneeze.
“Bless you,” said both women automatically, and then froze.
“That wasn’t you, was it?” Kassa asked.
“Or
you,” said Sparrow darkly.
Kassa took a deep breath. “So who was it?”
“You had to ask.”
A spotlight appeared between them. It illuminated a very small figure, busily blowing her nose. She was female, dressed entirely in black leather and shorter than your average ale tankard. She tucked her hanky into her knee-high black boots and stared upwards, shielding her eyes from the spotlight. “I should be taller than this, you know. Still, can’t complain. First go and all that. You try manifesting in a mostly illusionary landscape and see what shape you turn out.”
“Who are you?” said Kassa in surprise. “And incidentally, where did you get that fabulous outfit?”
“Mrs Suede,” the little person introduced herself. She clapped her hands together efficiently. “Shall we get started?”
“Can you help me?” Sparrow asked.
Mrs Suede crossed her eyes and vanished. A moment later she appeared again, perching on Sparrow’s shoulder. The spotlight moved accordingly. “You know, I could murder a cup of tea,” she said conversationally.
“Well, I’d like to oblige,” said Kassa heavily. “But we’re out at the moment.”
“Hmm,” said Mrs Suede, the disapproval obvious in her little voice. She peered into Sparrow’s ear. “Is there any particular reason you are letting this poison continue in such a way?”
Sparrow laughed bitterly. “I wasn’t aware that I had a choice.”
Mrs Suede made a tsk sound. “There’s always a choice. Particularly in the moonlight dimension.” She tapped her boot. “The OtherRealm, as you mortals call it, is rather like being a witch. You can make anything happen, if you want to.” She smiled thoughtfully. “We don’t even have a stricture about harming none.”
“Are you saying I could will the liquid gold away?” Sparrow demanded.
“Perhaps,” said Mrs Suede with a gleam in her eye. “You never know until you try.”
“What will happen when we get back to the real world?”
“That’s assuming rather a lot, isn’t it?” challenged Mrs Suede. “Get on with it, do.” She hopped from Sparrow’s shoulder to a nearby tree branch.
Kassa looked at Sparrow. “Looks like it’s up to you after all.”
“Just the way I like it,” said Sparrow with a tight grin. She closed her eyes tight, clenched her hands into fists, and exploded into a million tiny pieces. Motes of gold streamed from her mouth and eye sockets, swirling around her whole body.
Kassa stepped back and whispered to Mrs Suede. “Did you make the deal with the Brewmistress and the Sultan?”
“No,” said another voice, chill and melodic. Lady Luck stepped out of nowhere. With hardly a backwards glance, she waved her hand and made Mrs Suede vanish. “I did.”
Sparrow hadn’t seen the new arrival. She scrabbled at the grass, blinded by the piercing light. “Take it back!” she demanded wildly, trying to force the liquid gold away from her. “Take it back!”
“I suppose so,” drawled Lady Luck, not sounding too pleased about it. She waved a hand at the gold cloud which surrounded the tawny-haired mercenary. “Return to me, if you must.”
The golden motes swarmed towards the goddess, melding with her skin.
Sparrow yelled with shock as the liquid gold left her. She fell flat on the grass, feeling as if her skin had been peeled off her body. “The faeries were not to be blamed after all,” she gasped.
“I should have thought that was obvious,” sighed Lady Luck. She nodded a slight salute in the direction of Kassa Daggersharp. “Next time, perhaps.” She faded out of the OtherRealm, leaving Sparrow and Kassa alone.
Sparrow buried her head in her hands. “Did you get the number of that goddess?”
Kassa came over and helped her to her feet. “Are you cured?”
“I think so.”
“Right.” Kassa pushed up her sleeves in a business-like fashion. “Now it’s my turn to do something stupid so we can get out of here. Do you believe in magic?”
“Not really,” said Sparrow. It seemed a silly admission under the circumstances.
“Neither do I,” laughed Kassa. “That’s probably why I get it wrong all the time. Shall we go?”
“Yes.”
Kassa clapped her hands, twice. “Dame Veekie!”
They were in darkness again. Somewhere, a candle was lit. Standing behind the circle of warm, waxy yellow light was the godmother-witch Dame Veekie Crosselet, large as life and twice as grey.
Kassa faced her bravely. “I will undertake my own initiation, when and if I choose. I am quite capable of witching without supervision, deciding for myself when I am suitably qualified to wreak havoc on the world of magic.” She laughed. “It was a con job from the start. I should have known that the whole mentor-initiate thing was about as unwitchy as you get.”
Dame Veekie regarded her coldly. “Is that your final word on the matter?”
Kassa put her hands on her hips, which made her feel much better. “It is.”
“Well,” said Dame Veekie Crosselet. “Congratulations. You’re a witch. Or rather. You’re not actually a witch. But you could be. If you wanted to. In other words. It’s entirely up to you.” She blinked.
“But where are we?” pleaded Officer Finnley.
“The OtherRealm,” snapped Mistress Opia as they marched through the waist-high reeds of the swamp. “Stop asking questions.”
“But how are we going to get home?”
“We’re not,” said Hobbs the gnome. “Not ever. And it’s all her fault, as per usual!”
“Shut up!” snarled the Brewmistress. Her skin was still bright yellow and glowing. But try as hard as she might, she couldn’t get the liquid gold to work any more. There was no time in the OtherRealm…and no time travel.
There was a polite cough, and a beige-blonde goddess appeared before them. “Another mess to tidy up,” Lady Luck sighed. “You wouldn’t believe what they threatened to do to me if I didn’t obey them.” She flicked a finger at Hobbs the gnome. “Go home.” Then she flicked a similar finger at Officer Finnley. “Just go.”
The two vanished.
Mistress Opia stared at Lady Luck. “It was you who gave me the liquid gold,” she accused. “I thought you were…”
“I know, I know,” sighed Lady Luck. “You thought I was a representative of the OtherRealm, whereas I was really using both you and them to further my own chaotic whims, blah blah.” Her eyes narrowed. “You didn’t know what you were getting into the first time around, and I’ve been ordered to fix it. But the second time…as far as I remember, you said that you didn’t care what the price was, as long as you had another dose of liquid gold.” The goddess eyed the gold-skinned Brewmistress up and down. “I don’t think I actually have to do anything about this.”
Lady Luck vanished.
Mistress Opia didn’t. She stared slowly around her environment. The OtherRealm. The moonlight dimension. The land of the fey. She wondered vaguely if the Fair Folk had any need for a good Brewer, and suspected that it would take a lot of effort to sell them on the idea.
Still, life was all about challenges.
Sparrow swayed slightly and caught hold of the rail to steady herself. She snapped her head around, surveying their surroundings. It was the Splashdance. The liquid golden Splashdance, still glowing. All was as it should be.
Kassa shook her head slowly. “I could have avoided all that if I’d thought to declare independence from the beginning!”
“May I assume,” broke in Aragon Silversword, human-fleshed again, “yet again we have been put through various forms of physical and mental aggravation in order to further your own benefit, Princess of Pirates?”
Kassa stared thoughtfully at him. “Do you know what this means?”
“I assume it means that we are all complete idiots for associating ourselves with you,” he replied.
“Not that,” she said, eyes shining. “It means I’m back in business. All systems go! I’m free.” She kissed him sudde
nly, too quickly for him to protest. “I’m reneging on that no-flirting rule.”
Aragon stepped out of range. “I’d guessed.”
The newly-restored Daggar caught hold of Sparrow, swinging her up into the air. “Is it over?”
“Completely. No more liquid gold running around inside me.” She struggled to get down. “Let me down, rockhead!”
He lowered her slowly, his eyes speculative. “I suppose you still have that sleepy potion on your mouth?”
She shrugged. “Actually, I used up the last on Lord Tangent.”
Daggar grinned and leaned forward, but Sparrow quickly ducked the impending kiss. “No, thank you!” she said firmly. “I hardly think you would survive trollish mating rituals.”
He shrugged, still amiable. “Worth a try. So you’re cured now, and Kassa’s alive. What about the future?”
Sparrow glanced at Aragon and Kassa, then back at Daggar. “Better check.”
“Right.” Daggar strode purposefully towards the ship’s wheel. “’Scuse me, Kassa-girl.”
Kassa broke off from teasing Aragon to stare at her cousin. “What do you think you’re doing?”
Daggar put his hands on the amber crystal. “Unfinished business,” he said.
Just as he opened his mouth to command the ship forward in time, something bright, yellow and loud crashed into their field of vision, landing with a splash into the sea.
“What was that?” cried Kassa.
Sparrow dived instantly into the water. A moment later she emerged, dragging the half-unconscious Officer Finnley with her.
“Where have you been?” Daggar demanded.
Finnley spat out a pitiful spout of water and collapsed exhaustedly on the deck.
Kassa glanced at Aragon. “Do you know who…?”
“Not a clue,” he replied. “Did you know there were carnations growing under your feet?”
Kassa stared at her own boots, which were rapidly being lifted off the deck as a bunch of bright red and purple flowers sprouted out of the planks. “It’s a present,” she said. “I think it means the Fair Folk like me.”
Mocklore Box Set (Mocklore Chronicles) Page 53