by Sam Short
“Oh, Boris,” said Granny, swinging a leg over the goats back and taking a curled horn in each hand. “I’m to be the first astronaut in my family, and it’s all thanks to you. I’ll never forget this night.”
Boris looked skyward. “Settle in, Gladys, for the flight will be long and arduous.”
Granny leaned forward and lifted her knees, allowing Boris to take her full weight. The goat shuddered for a moment, before emitting a wailing gasp of pain and collapsing into the sand, his legs akimbo and his head at an odd angle.
“Fly, beautiful Boris, fly!” shouted Granny, slamming her heels into Boris’s quivering hind-quarters. “Make haste!”
Boris took a rattling breath. “Are we there yet, Gladys?”
“Almost, Boris, almost. Fly faster!”
“It’s hard to breathe,” gasped Boris, his snout slipping below the sand.
“It’s the altitude,” said Granny. “You’ll soon get used to it.”
Barney leapt to his feet and crossed the sand in three long strides. He lifted Granny from the back of the goat, ignoring her protests and dodging her flailing fists. She fell to the sand and stared into the night sky. “So close,” she murmured. “Yet so far.”
Boris took a deep breath as Barney rubbed his flanks. He blew chunks of sand from his nostrils and sighed. “We’ll try again tomorrow, Gladys,” he said.
“Tomorrow,” repeated Granny. “Sleep à la carte with me tonight, Boris, we’ll dream of flying to the moon.”
Boris giggled. “You mean al fresco, dear Gladys, and I’d be happy to share the blanket of stars with you.”
Gretchen stood up. “Bertram, put that pipe of peace away,” she said. “It’s done enough damage for one night.” She smiled at me. “We shall leave you now. Good luck with your quest.” She glanced at Boris and Granny before sliding her helmet over her head. “I fear you’ll need all the luck of the Silver Mountains.”
The dwarfs mounted their donkeys, and will a final farewell, rode into the night, their laughter echoing across the plains.
“Help me get Granny aboard, Barney,” I said. “I’m not leaving her in the sand.”
Mum and Willow helped Boris stumble to the boat as Barney and I each slid a hand beneath Granny’s armpits and helped her to her feet. “Come on,” I said. “It’s time for bed.”
“I’ve got a secret,” mumbled Granny.
“Come on, Gladys,” urged Barney. “It’s getting cold and the fire will go out soon. I’ve never seen anyone get so stoned before.”
“Do you want to know why I won’t take my dementia cure?” slurred Granny.
“Why?” I said, supporting her as she tripped over a log.
“I love him,” she said. “I love Boris. Not the goat you must understand — I’m a progressive, but even I draw the line somewhere. I love the man within him — Charleston Huang, and when I take my cure and he leaves the body of the goat, he’ll leave me for ever. He’s in his sixties, and I’m at least… ten years older. He won’t want to be with me. I’ll lose my soul mate.” Her eyes slid closed and her breathing became laboured.
“Wake up, Granny!” I said. “What do you mean you love him?”
“Watcha mean?” she mumbled. “Watcha talking about? Are there munchies on the boat? I’m hungry.”
Chapter Six
We’d been traveling for almost four hours when Granny finally woke up, the remains of the three chocolate muffins she’d eaten the night before lining her lips, and her eyes bloodshot. “My head hurts,” she said, emerging from Willow’s bedroom and approaching the narrow galley kitchen where I was preparing hot drinks. “Why is it you only become ill from over indulgence in The Haven? It doesn’t seem fair.”
“Probably so people think twice before doing it again,” I said. “Sit down, I’ll make you a coffee.”
“Where’s everyone else?” she said.
“Willow’s driving the boat and the others are on the roof, sunbathing. We’re half way to the city of Shadows, they wanted to relax a little before we arrive,” I said, handing Granny a mug.
Granny sipped the coffee and smiled. “That stuff the dwarfs gave us was far stronger than the weed me and Norman smoked back in eighty-four, all we did back then was dance to Norman’s favourite song — Pass the Dutchie — and eat too much cheese. I can’t remember what I did last night!”
“I can help you out with that,” I said, “you told me and Barney that —”
Granny out a finger to her lips. “And I don’t want to know, thank you, sweetheart.”
“But —”
“No buts, Penelope,” snapped Granny. “I don’t want to know.”
The thud of a skull on a low door frame, followed by a swear word that made Granny wince, marked Barney’s arrival into the belly of the boat. He rubbed his head as he smiled at Granny. “Morning, Gladys,” he said. “Did you have a good time last night?”
“I’m sure I did,” said Granny, “but as I’ve being telling Penny — I don’t want to know what happened last night.”
“Fair enough,” said Barney, giving me a knowing glance. “Anyway, I’ve had an idea. We need to summon Maeve. She should know about what the dwarfs told us. She’s almost like my police superior if you think about it, and superiors should always be informed of a breakthrough in a case.”
“Breakthrough?” said Granny with a raised eyebrow. “What breakthrough? Why don’t I know anything about this development?”
“You were otherwise occupied when the dwarfs gave us some information,” I said with a smile.
Granny put her mug down. “Well fill me in then.”
Without speaking over one another, Barney and I repeated the story the dwarfs had told us. When we’d finished, Granny nodded at Barney. “I agree, Barney,” she said. “Maeve must be told. Knowing that three witches were being held captive in a boat changes everything. I must admit that I thought the six witches had simply decided to become outsiders — there are communities of people throughout The Haven who live in places similar to The Silver mountains, where magic doesn’t work. They shun society and they shun magic, but I’m now led to believe the witches are being held against their will… or worse. Summon her, Barney, and we can only hope that Derek doesn’t come along for the ride. Ghastly man that he is.”
Willow stayed above deck, driving the boat, as the rest of us gathered in the living area. Barney remained standing, with the stone Maeve had given him in his hand, and the rest of us sat on the dinette furniture, with Boris at Granny’s feet.
“What do I do?” said Barney, inspecting the small black stone.
“Just think of her,” said Mum, “and she’ll appear.”
Barney closed his eyes and wrinkled his nose. He muttered Maeve’s name under his breath, and cautiously opened his eyes. “Is she here yet?”
His answer came in the form of a swirl of smoke which materialised before him. Mum leapt up and turned on the extraction fan above the small gas cooker as Maeve took on her solid form and smiled. “You require my presence?” she said.
“Is Derek not with you today?” said Granny. “You two seem to have been joined at the hip recently.”
“Derek is otherwise occupied, Gladys,” said Maeve. She lowered herself gracefully into the comfy wicker chair opposite us, threading a hand through her golden hair. “With your sister.”
“What’s Eva doing with that hideous man?” snapped Granny. “The silly woman! She should know better.”
“You don’t give Derek or your sister enough credit, Gladys,” said Maeve. “Eva is wise, and Derek isn’t as bad as you like to assume he is.” She looked at Barney. “Why did you summon me, lawman? Surely not so that Gladys can question me about Derek’s whereabouts?”
“No, of course not,” said Barney, retrieving his notebook from his pocket. “We have information about three of the missing witches.”
Maeve’s playful expression moulded into concern. “Speak,” she said abruptly.
For the second time that day,
Barney retold the story. When he’d finished speaking, Maeve leaned back in her seat with her eyes closed and let out a long breath.
“Well?” said Granny. “What should we do?”
“We should hurry to the City of Shadows,” said Maeve. “I have great concern for the missing witches. I have a home in the city, we’ll gather there and formulate a plan.”
The stretch of river which led into the city was busier than any I’d seen in the mortal world. It seemed that not all of The Haven was a vision of calm tranquillity after all. Boats vied for mooring spots along the quays and wharfs which made up the port area of the city, and traders transported wares from their boats onto the dockside where horses and carts waited to take them away. We could have been in London during the eighteen-hundreds, and the sight of a young boy running alongside the river pushing a hoop in front of him with a stick, solidified that vision. The abundance and array of different colours and types of boats immediately shot down any plans I’d formulated of simply looking for a red boat and finding the person responsible for taking the missing witches.
Mouth-watering cooking aromas filled the air, and a large market area was loud with the sound of traders shouting over each other as they each attempted to attract customers with their bargains. It was a completely different haven than the one I’d witnessed so far, and I looked forward to exploring the city.
Maeve guided me past the busy port area, pointing to a channel of water which took us to a secluded harbour. I maneuvered The Water Witch into the mooring which Maeve indicated, and cut the engine as a man on the wharf side caught the ropes which Barney tossed ashore, and tied us off.
“This is a rarely used harbour,” said Maeve. “Traders don’t use it. Your boat will be safe here, and more to the point, so will you.”
“Secure from what?” said Willow. “I’ve always thought The Haven was a safe place.”
“It used to be,” said Maeve. “And the countryside still is, but in recent decades some people have tired of the old magical ways. They miss the world they left behind when they came to live in The Haven, and have sought to recreate it here. A little too well for my liking. Even I have no control over some cities and towns.”
“Why don’t you take back control?” said Boris, navigating the narrow gangplank which a dock worker had laid between the boat’s hull and the low stone quay. “It’s your haven.”
“I’m not a dictator,” said Maeve. “And I have no wish to be. I believe in allowing people to achieve their own destiny, even if I don’t always agree with that destiny. If I was to rule The Haven with an iron fist, I’d be no better than the people who tried to burn me alive at the stake.” She followed Boris along the plank and drew her hood over her head as she stepped onto the quay. “I will hide my identity. Many people in the city reject authority, and if you’re seen with me they may not trust you when you begin searching for our lost witches. Your questions will remain unanswered.”
“Aren’t you going to help us search for the witches?” said Granny, slapping a man’s hand away as he attempted to help her off the plank. The elderly man took a startled step backwards and narrowly saved himself from slipping into the gap between boat and land.
“I’ll be more of a hindrance than a help,” said Maeve. “People are wary of me, and will not seek to aid me. Come to my home, and I’ll tell you more about the city and suggest some folk you may want to speak with. Some people in the city have their ears closer to the ground than others.”
“Like the dwarfs!” said Granny, lifting a hand for a high five, which everybody ignored.
A drably coloured carriage, drawn by four black horses, drew to a halt above us at the top of the narrow set of slippery stone steps which led from the mooring to the main quayside.
“Our transport awaits,” said Maeve.
“It’s not very grand, is it?” said Granny, with an upturned nose.
“I don’t want to draw attention to us, Gladys Weaver,” said Maeve. “Come, climb aboard, everybody. My home is a short drive away.”
The carriage was cramped, but everybody managed to find a seat. Barney’s thigh pressed against mine and Granny put a hand on Boris’s head, lazily twirling her finger through his hair. As the goat gave a contented sigh, Barney nudged me and winked. With a roll of my eyes, I looked away from Boris and Granny and instead concentrated on the streets of The City of Shadows which moved past the window next to me like a strange period drama on the TV screen. The period drama I was watching outside was a mismatch of historical eras, with some people dressed in clothes which I guessed had been practical in the medieval period, and others dressed in clothes which were of the same style as the ones I wore. Men in world-war two soldier’s uniforms sat outside a tavern drinking beer and three women in dresses straight out of the nineteen-sixties chatted to them, batting their eyelids and sipping cocktails. I reminded myself that people in the magical dimension had been arriving for centuries, and modern witches from the mortal world visited regularly, bringing their own styles with them. I gave a low giggle as I compared the view outside the carriage to the fancy dress party Willow and I had attended the summer before. Willow had dressed as a sexy pirate, and I’d hidden my figure with a Pikachu outfit. The unflattering costume had not only ruined any chance I’d had of attracting any male attention, but had also been responsible for three embarrassing falls on the dance floor, and at least four pounds of weight loss due to excessive perspiration and a small mouth hole through which I could only squeeze the tiniest of finger foods.
Street vendors cooking all manner of food lined the dusty pavements, and I licked my lips as the sweet aroma of barbecued meat filled the small carriage. A small tree filled park bustled with people, and children laughed as they watched a man on stilts juggling five balls, his vintage clown costume a throwback to a time long ago. The City of Shadows was not named for the dark underbelly which it undoubtedly possessed, but took its name from the shadows which were always cast due to the year-round sun, and true to its name, the city was awash with sunlight which lifted my spirits.
“It’s a beautiful city,” I said, to no one in particular.
“It has its beauty and it has its ugly side,” said Maeve, “but I think you’ll enjoy your time here.”
The sprightly clip-clop of the horse’s hooves slowed in tempo as the driver took a turn, causing us all to lurch to the left. “We’re here,” said Maeve, as the carriage passed through a set of tall wrought iron gates. “Welcome to my home in the city.”
Chapter Seven
Maeve’s home was impressive. It wasn’t the castle on the hill which I’d been expecting a witch who was powerful enough to conjure up a magical dimension to live in, but it was most certainly worthy of a person of great importance.
The driveway snaked through perfect lawns and tall trees, and the large house, built in the style of an Edwardian manor, was guarded by stone lions and dragons. Two flights of steps led to the marble pillared entrance, and a short portly woman dressed in a flowing black dress stood at the top to greet us. “Miss Maeve!” she said. “It’s a pleasure to have you home. When I knew you were arriving with guests, I ordered the cooks to roast a whole pig. I trust you’re all hungry?”
Maeve handed the carriage driver a silver coin, and waved at the red-faced woman. “Hello, Mildred,” she said, leading us up the steps. “I’m sure we could all do with a bite to eat, thank you.”
The large woman hurried into the house, clapping her hands and barking orders. “Prepare the dining room,” she shouted. “Miss Maeve is home! Chop, chop!”
“I wish they wouldn’t treat me this way,” said Maeve. “The staff were all servants in the mortal world, and they seem to enjoy continuing to perform their jobs in this world. I don’t enjoy the fuss, but they insist on it.”
“They know their place,” said Granny, handing a butler her cardigan and patting him on the head as he bowed. “Keep them on their toes, Maeve. If they sense any weakness from you, they’ll be rifling throug
h your family silver before you can say, shine my Sunday shoes, you common piece of shi —”
“Mother!” snapped Mum. “Have some respect!”
“They don’t want respect,” said Granny. “It would only confuse them. They’re simple folk with no self-esteem.”
“This way, please,” said Maeve, frowning at Granny and leading us across the large entrance hall, her heels clicking on the granite floor. “Let’s eat, and discuss our missing witches.”
After freshening up in one of the many bathrooms, I joined the others in the large dining room. A long mahogany table took centre stage, and the tall walls were decorated with large paintings and intricate embroideries, some of them over six-feet in length. A crystal chandelier hung from the ceiling, the candles which gave off the light burning brightly, and a tall unlit fireplace took up most of the space in the wall opposite the doorway.
I took my seat between Barney and Willow as Matilda wheeled in a long wooden stand on which lay a whole pig, its skin a crispy gold and its body surrounded by cooked vegetables and a large pot of what smelt like the finest gravy I’d ever shared a room with. Matilda began slicing the pork, and Boris closed his eyes, making a sobbing sound. “It seems so cruel now I’m in the body of an animal,” he whimpered. “Poor, poor pig.”
Boris sat on a smaller table which had been drawn alongside the main table to perform as a makeshift seat, and Granny pulled it a little nearer to her side. “There, there,” she said. “You don’t have to eat any, Boris. I’m sure the cooks can make you something else.” She raised an enquiring eyebrow in Maeve’s direction.
“Of course!” said Maeve. “What would you like, Boris? Salad… grass?”