The Stargazers

by Allison M. Dickson

  Lily was easy enough to keep in line. Without Oleander’s mastery in anti-aging potions, the old biddy would have been a pile of ashes on a funeral pyre years ago. But then there was Dahlia. Sweet, smart, perfect little Dahlia, who had always earned Lily’s favor from the time they were little girls. It didn’t matter that they were triplets and therefore equals. Five measly minutes of seniority had earned that weakling the seat by their mother’s side in all matters.

  When it came time for their Lily to begin teaching them the craft, it was Dahlia who had received the most time and attention. And after she’d given birth to the pink-haired brat, Dahlia became Lily’s universe. Of course, all that time alone had its advantages. Oleander and Holly were left free to run the Ellemire countryside looking for any sort of amusement two outcasts could find. Holly turned to the weed and lost what little mind she was born with. Oleander turned to boys—ones who were as lonely and angry as she felt.

  It was the most forbidden act for a Stargazer witch to fraternize with an Ellemiren man. It was something about incompatible magic, and the resulting children being born demons. But Oleander was never much for conventions or traditions, especially her mother’s senseless mysticism. She’d had no intention of going through Tree of Doors under their terms. The World of Man was only useful to her insofar as she could steal its secrets. Her tiny piece of the Old Magic would never go to anyone else. She would become an ugly old hag for no one.

  So when she did become pregnant not more than half a year before her own scheduled departure, scandalizing all of Ellemire and shattering the last shred of good will that Lily had for her, she saw it as an opportunity.

  Of course, Lily had been incensed nearly beyond reason. “You must not bring this abomination into the world! You stupid, stupid whore of a daughter!” She begged Oleander to take the Black Cohosh and Pennyroyal tonic to induce miscarriage, but Oleander had refused.

  “I would never kill my child!” she’d cried, clutching her already protruding belly for maximum theatrical effect. Of course she wouldn’t kill him (she knew the child was a male, the first to ever be conceived by a Stargazer woman, as far as she knew) yet. The boy had much to teach her, both about being pregnant and what enhanced abilities she might gain from it. She would have six months of complete magical abandon, and she had a potion already concocted to end things when the time came. If the bastard was destined to be a freak, then Oleander was doing it a favor.

  As for the old bat, she was swayed by Oleander’s tears and pleading, so she had reluctantly allowed the pregnancy to continue. Or rather, she ignored her other daughters almost completely. Except, of course, for her precious Dahlia.

  During those pregnant months, Oleander tested various herbs and potions to see what effect it might have on the growing baby. He was lively in the womb most of the time, and eventually Oleander found herself talking to him as she worked. “There there, Lichen. What if we used just a smidge more frog saliva? I think that’ll do the trick.” She felt perfectly in tune with his mind, and he usually signaled his agreement with a gentle kick, while a hard blow to her ribcage would indicate a “no.”

  The symbiotic relationship between mother and child made Oleander a better potion maker, and the Old Magic surged through her veins as never before, almost as if the baby was some sort of amplifier. She devised creations and potions that no one in Ellemire had dared ever imagine, writing them down lest she ever forgot them. Because of her new insights, Oleander believed she would become the most powerful witch in the land, all thanks to the little demon spawn growing in her belly.

  There had been a moment’s hesitation when the time came to inject the poison into her womb. After all, Lichen had helped her so much from within her. Perhaps he would make a fantastic apprentice. And she could even devise a potion that would make him age faster so she wouldn’t have to suffer the inconvenience of mothering a squawking infant. But there was one bit of magic she couldn’t get around, and that was the transformation that would occur when she gave birth to him. After seeing it happen to Dahlia, she knew it would render her nearly powerless, and no bit of alchemy she had tried thus far could overcome that.

  Three months before the child’s impending birth, Oleander crept down to Mirror Lake by the light of the full moon and injected a custom herbal infusion that would make the elimination of the child as quick as possible.

  The pain was enormous, stomach-splitting. Her screams filled the night, and there was no one there to answer her cries. No Lily to help catch the babe or wipe her head with scented rags, no sister to hold her hand when she needed to push. Ellemire was as silent as a grave.

  On the fourth push, the child slid the rest of the way out. He was also silent and still. With hair as orange as flames, the babe looked as if he were sleeping. Oleander could see none of the promised deformities of an Ellemire-sired child. Ten fingers, ten toes, two eyes, perfect skin. She surged with hatred for her mother. Lies, all of it! Although she’d had no intention of sacrificing her body and her Old Magic to a freak, would she not have at least considered it for the love and adoration of a perfect child?

  She cuddled Lichen close to her and screamed into the silent and unanswering world, roiling with rage and grief borne from false prophecies, determined to make the women who had filled her head with their lies and superstitions pay dearly.

  She then staggered with him to Mirror Lake while his skin was still wet from the womb and kissed him before she dumped him into the water. Her son was last person she would ever kiss. Before returning home, she snipped off portions of the baby’s placenta and umbilical cord, which she would use for a potion.

  Lily seemed unsurprised by her daughter’s story of a stillbirth, and Oleander never told her that the child had been beautiful and flawless. Instead, she devoted herself exclusively to perfecting her alchemy, cultivating her family’s dependence on her with potions that made it possible for them to live and walk and look in the mirror. A heated confrontation in the form of a simple family squabble wouldn’t suffice. The sort of vengeance Oleander was after would take time to develop.

  But Dahlia was a challenge. As mother to the Great Mother, the woman acted far above her station, and that had rubbed off on her pink-haired brat too. But Oleander endured it all, keeping her eye on the ultimate prize. Soon, they would all be on their knees.

  Of course, the hags weren’t wrong about everything. Ellemire’s magic was drying up, and fast. The land was full of wasteful, spoiled idiots blinded by their lust for things that did little more than sparkle, but unlike every other witch and wizard in Ellemire, Oleander required almost no external magic for her powers. Potions were more about the science. The numbers and measurements. Her limitless knowledge of ingredients, her piercing intuition. If all the magic in Ellemire withered up and died—as it surely would, whether Aster became pregnant or not—Oleander could go right on cultivating her herbs and potions and living much as she always had. Over time, the myopic sheep of her world would stagger to her for help in surviving their magic-barren world, and she wouldn’t mind that one bit. In fact, she counted on it.

  Of course, Oleander wasn’t patient to just let that inevitability come to pass without helping it along at least a little, and she didn’t intend to rule the world without a subordinate at her side. Whatever Aster’s destiny, the child had power, and Oleander had every intention of siphoning it from her. But that wasn’t all that made the pink-haired bitch appealing to her. Oleander was due a penance. Her own child was dead because of their lies, but a daughter would suffice rather nicely. Yes, indeed.

  Oleander had opened the path to the Tree of Doors twice before in hopes of finding a way through to the other world. The simple incantation was not such a tightly kept secret among the family. Oleander had heard Lily utter it numerous times throughout her life and she’d memorized and written it down for future reference. The barrier to the path was mainly designed to keep out other intruders from Ellemire, even though few were brave or willing enough to intrude
on Stargazer land.

  However, opening the Door of All Doors had provided the biggest challenge. Lily never shared that information with anyone else, other than precious Dahlia. And Holly, of course, was her insurance. Lily was as shrewd as she was ancient, but she wasn’t nearly as cunning as her middle child, and Oleander had finally learned the secret that would get her through to the other side.

  Holly was the only Stargazer—actually, one of the only witches in all of Ellemire—with the gifts of the mind. What a waste that had turned out to be. But the potion Oleander concocted with the girl’s brain matter had done the trick. Of course, it took several hours of muddling through years of faded and fragmented memories to find it, like a rare diamond buried in layers of silt, but she was confident now that she could get to the other side.

  She still needed Holly to help her open the door, for it took the power of two. The act of doing it would likely kill the broken bitch, but at least her final deed would be a noble one.

  Oleander was sitting hidden behind a stand of banyans at the head of the path when she saw Holly stumbling through the thick underbrush toward their meeting place. The younger triplet also wasn’t deformed by a transfer of magic, but one could hardly tell by looking. She was as weak and wasted away as the two biddies back home. She had already forgotten about the head bashing and needle in the eye from the other night, and was currently high as a Grah festival firework, but that was to be expected.

  As Holly neared closer to the hiding spot, she tripped on the hem of her own skirt and pitched forward, arms pinwheeling, before landing face-first in the dirt. Oleander heard her laughing and the rage burbled in her gut like magma. “Psst! Over here you twit!”

  “Huh?” Holly raised her head and looked around as if she’d heard a strange creature nearby. Then her beady eyes found Oleander and she gasped. “Oh. Hi, Oly!”

  Oleander walked over to her idiot sister and nudged her in the shoulder with one carefully polished shoe. “Get up and shut your stupid goat’s mouth before someone hears you.”

  “But the ground is so comfy, Oly. The clouds are like little lambs today. I’ve been counting them all afternoon.”

  Oleander’s foot itched to deliver a swift kick to the nitwit’s stomach. Instead she grabbed a handful of Holly’s hair and yanked her to her feet.

  “Ow! Stop it! Owww! That really hurts!” Tears seeped out of her red-rimmed eyes and green stains from the salvia marred her lips and teeth.

  “Shut up your useless mouth before I put my fist in it,” warned Oleander.

  “You’re always so dang mean, Oly. What do you want anyway?”

  Oleander’s foot lashed out and cracked against Holly’s shin. The other witch howled, but only until she saw Oleander’s murderous expression. After that, she reduced it to a shaky wimper.

  “You’re going to help me open the Door, you festering blister! Can’t you remember anything?”

  Holly’s eyes went as wide as tea saucers. “Ohhhh! I remember now. But… Do you really think I can do it? I’m not so good at that. You know that. I’m stupid now.” She bowed her head.

  Oleander sighed. This was not going to be nearly as easy as she’d hoped. “You aren’t stupid, Holly. Not now, anyway. I’ve been giving you the smart potion, remember?”

  After the little brain incident, Oleander gave Holly a useless potion of green tea and slippery elm bark, telling her it was to help make her smart again. Of course, not even Oleander could have concocted something that would have done any good in such a short period, but sometimes the power of suggestion was more effective than any fancy tonic, Now Oleander wondered if she might not have overestimated the dummy’s cognitive abilities.

  “Yeah. Yeah, I remember. It tastes like boiled boots. But do you think it works?” She looked up at Oleander with pathetic hope stamped on her face.

  “Of course it works! I made it, remember? Have you ever seen a potion of mine not work, you bloody… Dear Sister?” Be easy, thought Oleander. Just a little longer.

  “No, I don’t suppose you make bad potions. But what if I get caught? What if they find out? I could be locked up for doing this.”

  “No one will know, and Lily would sooner slit her own throat than allow one of her daughters to be locked up for trespassing on her own land. Once the Door is open, you’re free to leave. Stay in the hills and eat all the weed you want until I send word for you to return. It won’t be long.”

  Panic worked Holly’s thin face, making her brow furrow and her lower lip quiver. “You’re going to kill her, aren’t you? You’re going to kill our poor niece.”

  Instead of getting angry, Oleander brought one of her hands to her sister’s pale cheek and stroked it with the gentleness of a bird’s feather. She would ignore the way Holly pulled back as if she’d been burned. For now. “Darling sister, I am many things, but I’m no murderer. I have no intention of killing our niece. In fact, you could say that I’m saving her from a wretched duty that even she herself doesn’t want to do.”

  Holly heaved a shaky sigh. “I don’t like that she’s over in that world. I hear the people are mean and terrible there.”

  “That whole world is dying of a slow rotting disease. That’s why I am going to help Aster. She belongs here among us. With my help, we’ll find another way to save our world.”

  “Oh Oly, you would really do that for her? We’re all so lucky to have you looking out for us.”

  Oleander patted her sister’s head like the obedient little dog she was. “Yes, you are. Now let’s get this started.”

  After Oleander recited the familiar incantation, the invisible barrier to the path opened with a cool gust of wind, and the two women stepped through. They walked toward the rows of beacons, which were barely visible in the mid-summer daylight. Soon, she could see the Tree of Doors, tall and lush in the clearing, its round leaves dancing in the breeze, soaking up the sunlight. Its doors of every shape, size, and color hung from its branches like odd fruit.

  Once they were at the Tree’s base, Oleander reached into her bag and pulled out a chocolate-coated pill she made specifically for the occasion. “I want you to swallow this.”

  “What is it?”

  “It will help make sure you don’t remember anything.”

  Holly frowned. “But why would I need that?”

  “That salvia has already turned your brain to mush, and it’s unlikely that you’ll remember much anyway, but just in case they ask questions, I don’t want you to be able to tell them a thing.”

  “You don’t trust me?” Her lip stuck out in a petulant pout.

  Oleander held back the guttural scream that wanted to rush forth. Why wouldn’t the insolent witch just do as she was told? “It’s not you I don’t trust. It’s them. If you don’t know what happened, they won’t be able to dig it out of your head with whatever magic they have. If they find I’ve crossed over before I have a chance to do what I need to do, it could cause many problems for all of us. Now take it.” Of course, she left out the part about the likelihood of Holly not surviving the opening of the door, but that was inconsequential to Oleander’s ends.

  She thrust the pill into Holly’s face, stopping short of shoving it down the dummy’s throat. But it turned out that force wasn’t necessary, for Holly plucked it from her fingers and placed it on her tongue and swallowed it.

  “I’m doing this for Aster. I wouldn’t want to mess anything up for her,” said Holly.

  “Good girl.” Oleander reached out her hands and Holly took them. “Now, I know this is going to be a very big test for your ability, but there is great strength in you. I made sure of that when I gave you those tonics, didn’t I?”

  Holly gave her head a tentative shake. “It’s just that… the Doors weren’t designed to be opened this way, Oly. We’re forcing them before their time. It could do something really bad.”

  Oleander smiled. She’d considered the possibility that she’d be damage the passage between the two worlds and possibly trap herself an
d Aster on the other side, but it was unlikely. If it was done right, nothing more would happen than a door opening. At worst, a few birds might fall dead form the sky.

  “I have faith in you, Sister.”

  Holly’s eyes were as pathetic as those of a dog returning home to its master after years of being lost. “Thank you.” She then took a breath and turned toward the Door of All Doors with her hand outstretched. Oleander knew the gesture was unnecessary, but it helped Holly to concentrate, and that was all that mattered.

  Both of them began to mutter the chants that Oleander had plucked from Holly’s brain with the needle. A cool breeze rushed through the clearing as the world began to stretch and pull around them like taffy candy. It was a feeling that made her stomach roll. Something didn’t feel right.

  “Holly, what are you doing?”

  “It’s supposed to be this way. This area isn’t like normal reality. Anything I move here has an effect on everything around it.”

  “I knew that!” Oleander yelled, not liking Holly’s sudden confidence. The use of so much power was clearly making her defiant.

  “I…I can see the lock. It’s just so… tricky.” Her eyes were narrow slits as she focused on whatever it was she was seeing. Little blue veins stood out on her temples. Meanwhile, the surrounding trees were starting to look like melting wax. The ground felt mushy. When she looked down, she saw that her feet had sunken into it up to her ankle. She pulled up on one foot, and it came free with a smooching sound. Her ears were popping, which made the sense of vertigo even more severe, and she leaned over and vomited into the grass.

  “Hurry up, damn you!” she screamed through a voice made hoarse by the burn of breakfast coming back up. Even the strings of drool dripping from her mouth seemed to be bending funny.