Dean-Na and the Hairless Rose

by Robyn Fraser

  A light bulb came on for Dean. “So you’re saying you’re Mrs. Actual?”

  The woman shook her head. “Of course that’s what I’m saying! My god, you aren’t as smart as I thought you were!”

  Dean ignored that jab. “Look, we’ve just brought imagination back to all your soldiers and right now, as we stand here, the V.E.G.A.N.S. are posting all kinds of artwork over all the towns in Concreta to bring imagination back to the rest of your citizens. Yes, I managed to get hundreds of sketches to them,” they added in response to Mrs. Actual’s look of surprise. “Who’s not smart now, eh?” Maybe Dean hadn’t totally ignored that jab after all.

  Mrs. Actual glared at Dean, but then changed her expression to some sort of smile. It seemed she was attempting ‘superior’, but it looked more like she was constipated. “That would still be you, Deanna. You may have won the battle, but the war is mine.”

  She waved at the mix of Concretians and Magitorians in the distance. “One dose of imagination won’t be enough for most of them. Not when I get them back on track. In fact, the distraction has been perfect. It has allowed me and my most trusted officers—and by trusted, I mean my most unimaginative and thus unlikely to be affected by the wiles of the forest,” she pointed to the five people behind her, “to race through the Fantabulous Forest as soon as the spell dropped and make our way here without anyone noticing. I never could have done that otherwise.”

  Without removing her glare from Dean, Mrs. Actual gestured to her companions. “Pull out the bombs. It’s time to blow up imagination once and for all.”

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Where We Meet Up With Old Mates

  “What are you going to do?” asked Dean, their eyes glued to the soldiers behind Mrs. Actual. They’d removed their backpacks and pulled out five large, cylindrical metal objects. Though never having seen one before, Dean was pretty sure they were bombs. The fact that Actual had just said they were, helped in this realization.

  Mrs. Actual’s grey eyes gleamed like steel and she took another step toward Dean so that they were now only a couple of feet apart. “I’m going to blow up this horrid building.” She gestured to the main body of Magus Manor. “That will surely send all the simple Magitorians this way, leaving my Concretians at the shoreline. Which is where I’ll be while these bombs are going off. With the art distraction gone I’ll whip my troops back into line in no time and have this city in the palm of my hands before your poor Magitorians can say ‘Queen Juliana let us down’.

  “And then what?” asked Dean. “What is even the point for you? Like, why do you hate Magitorians so much? Why can’t you just leave them alone?” Though focused on Mrs. Actual, Dean thought they glimpsed movement from just below the trap door. But they dared not look away from their captor.

  Mrs. Actual laughed. “Silly girl. As long as Magitoria exists, it is a threat to me and to my people. To my plan.” Her forehead creased into a frown. “Do you know how hard I’ve been working since before I even came into power, to create a progressive kingdom built on hard work, technology, structure and obedience? How many times I’ve visited Mundaland to study their governments, sciences and regulations? I am bringing Mundaland here, to what some like to call Illusiland,” she swept her arm far and wide and her voice rose to a near shout, “but what I choose to refer to as Mundaland-Two.”

  She cocked her head at Dean. “When has imagination ever improved a society? When has art ever been anything more than a selfish waste of time and resources, a distraction from organization and industry? When has it ever benefited anyone in any way whatsoever?”

  “How about when I imagined that you might try something like this and decided to come stop you?”

  Mrs. Actual whipped around, which gave Dean a chance to look too.

  The five soldiers were all gagged and bound with rope. Captain Capitan stood on one side of them, Measley on the other. They were each holding a sword and pointing them at Mrs. Actual.

  “Who…who are you?” exclaimed Mrs. Actual. She reached for the waist of her pants, pulled out a gun and aimed it at the captain.

  Capitan shifted so that one of the bound officers was in front of her. Measley followed suit. “You can call me Captain,” she replied. “Or Captain Capitan. Or Captain of the Mother Puck. But you may not call me cap’n—that’s reserved for mates only.”

  The captain directed her attention to Dean. “It’s good to see you again, Deanna. You know, I was almost happy when the Mother Puck sank. Well, not really. But to be honest, I was feeling rather conflicted about your kidnapping. I’m quite certain the storm was a sign from our great Puck that I was wrong to try to bring you to Mr. Sactual. Or Mrs. Actual. Whatever.”

  She gestured to Measley. “Thankfully, my first mate here isn’t as dumb as I thought he was. He managed to make a raft and oars out of the ship’s rubbish and we finally made it to the shores of Concreta.”

  Measley blushed at the compliment.

  Mrs. Actual waved her gun. “Yes, yes, quite the lovely reunion, I’m sure. But right now, I need you to put down your swords. If you do that, I promise I won’t kill you.”

  Dean noticed that Mrs. Actual had her free hand behind her back and had crossed two fingers—a sure sign she was lying. Dean wanted to warn the captain not to listen to the Concretian leader, but just then they noticed a flash of movement behind Mrs. Actual and decided to keep quiet.

  “I’m so sorry to disappoint you, Mrs. Actual,” said Capitan, keeping her sword raised. “Do you have a first name by the way? I really hate using ‘Mrs’. So anti-feminist in my opinion.”

  “My god! Why does no one…? Mrs is my first name, you twit!”

  Capitan raised her eyebrows. “Touché, then. Well, Mrs, I’m afraid I won’t be able to comply with your request. For you see, after the wreck of my ship and the trek through the dismal grayness of Concreta, I had an epiphany and realized just how absolutely terrible it would be if you gained power over Magitoria as well as Concreta. ‘What would be next?’ I asked myself. Why, the Slightly Silly Sea, of course!” The captain shook her head. “No. There is no way I’ll allow you to rule my lake and ruin the honest business I’ve built over all these years.”

  Actual sniggered. “You’re a pirate. You steal for a living. And kidnap. Or at least attempt it. You owe me for that, by the way.” She nodded at Dean. “Services not delivered.”

  Capitan waved her sword dismissively. “At least I’m honest with my stealing and kidnapping. But you,” she pointed the sword at Actual, “you pretend like you’re doing this world a great favor by making it more Mundaland-like. But really, it’s all about power for you. Power and control over others.”

  Actual shrugged. “You’ve got me there. But it’s not just that. It’s also about having fancy things. I do like my luxury vehicles and chicken-leather furniture. The soft towels and coconut-cream cookies are a must-have, too.”

  Measley, who had been so silent, finally spoke. “An’ where doya think all tha’ stuff comes from?” he asked and then tapped his temple. “It comes from ‘ere, in the ole noggin’, tha’s where. An’ by tha’ I mean imagination.” He shook his huge head. “Ya can’ ‘ave nothin’ without the imagination. Don’ ya see tha? None o’ yer cars, or science or technology or anythin’ at all! It all ‘as to start with an idear.”

  Poor Measley’s face had gone red with what was likely the longest speech he’d ever given. A good one, too, thought Dean. Now that they considered it, everything really did come from imagining it first.

  The captain thought so too. “He’s right, Mrs,” she said. “You might be able to suppress imagination until it’s little more than a shadow in the dark that disappears as soon as you try to look at it directly, but you can’t kill a shadow. Ever.” Her eyes tracked just a touch to her right. “And on that note, I think it’s time to end this stand-off. Bullgod.”

  From behind Dean, Bullgod the pirate rat lunged forward and, with his peg-leg, kicked the gun from Actual’s hand. An instant la
ter, the captain was on her, tying the Concretian leader tightly with rope and sticking a very dirty sock in her mouth.

  “Well, that’s that,” said the captain, brushing her hands together as she stood up. “Magitoria is officially saved.” She stepped over to Dean, who was too stunned and sleep deprived to know just quite what to do or say, and put an arm around their shoulders as Actual writhed and grunted behind them. “And it’s mostly all owing to you, Deanna.”

  Dean nodded. “If you don’t mind, I’m trying out Dean right now.”

  The captain nodded. “Dean’s a great name. Suits you.”

  “Thanks,” said Dean. “And Magitoria is also saved owing to you and Hercules and the trolls and Rose and all the chick…Oh my dog, Rose! I have to find out if she’s okay!”

  Dean stepped away from the captain, grabbed the grey cell they’d left on the wall and pressed a button.

  “Come on, answer, Rose, please answer.” One second went by, then two and three, but no one on the other side picked up. Dean was about to drop the phone in anguish when, finally, a voice came through.

  “Heeeyyyy, D! How’s ya doin”?”

  “Rose? Is that you?” It mostly sounded like their friend, but the words were slurred. There was a lot of cheering and happy shouting in the background too.

  “Yeah, ‘sme, D. You know what, D? You know what? Huh?”

  “No. What?” What was going on with Rose?

  “Sheems that chickens aren’t completely immune to Fantabuloush Foresht berries and ‘shrooms after all. ‘Leasht not when they get nicked in the wing and fall right through a cloud of ‘em.” She laughed. It was a giddy laugh that lasted a long time.

  “Rose?” said Dean eventually, when the laughter didn’t stop. Then louder. “Rose!”

  “Oh. Huh?”

  “Are you alright? Your wing, I mean?”

  “Oh, ish nothing, really. ‘Shpecially not compared to what I went through back in Mundaland. I’m fine. Better’n fine, actu…actually.” She giggled again.

  “And the others who were shot? Are they okay?”

  “Oh, yesh, D. Everyone’s fine. Jes’ a few injuries. Nushing life threatening.”

  Dean let out a sigh of relief. “We did it Rose. We beat them. Even better, we gave them their imaginations back.”

  “Yeah, we sure did, Rose. I mean D. Shorry, my head’s a bit funny. Are you shtill at the Manor, D? You should come down and party with us.”

  Dean eyed the pirates and their captives. “I’ll be there soon, Rose. Just a few things to finish up here. See you in a bit, okay?”

  “K. You’re aweshum, D. Your parents will be sho proud of you.”

  “You’re awesome too, Rose.” Dean pressed a button on the grey cell and cut the connection.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Where Dean and Rose Return to the Beginning. Much like an Infinity Symbol

  There was much celebrating all that day and throughout the night. Dean missed almost all of it in favor of sleeping.

  The following afternoon, Percival Portiscue gave a speech to the citizens of Magitoria from the top of the front steps of Magus Manor. A speech that was basically written by Dean and Rose, though the porpoise did help a bit when he wasn’t playing with his Lego-like blocks.

  All the Concretian soldiers and many of its citizens who had traveled across Slightly Silly after hearing the news, were at the gathering too, having danced and eaten and drank and laughed into the wee hours of the morning—activities that had been either forbidden or highly regulated in Concreta.

  When he had everyone’s attention, and after making sure his mauve skirt was sitting correctly over his tail fin, Percival began, reading word for word from his notes and coming across, Dean was surprised to think, as quite competent. “After seven years, seven weeks and seven days of living in fear of yesterday, we are now free from the threat of Mr. Sactual and the Concretian army. (Most people didn’t yet know that Mr. Sactual was actually Mrs. Actual. Percival, Rose and Dean had agreed to leave that explanation for a different speech.)

  “And while we have so many to thank for their part in our success, it is no word of a lie that none of this would have been possible without the child of our dear, self-exiled Queen Juliana and her King by Marriage Robert.” (Rose wrote that part.) He gestured to Dean, who was standing just a few feet to his left. “Please give your thanks to Princey Dean!”

  A cheer, as loud as a passenger plane taking off two feet from your ear, shot up from the crowd and filled the air of Magus. Dean’s face felt flushed with self-conscious pride that, thankfully, was somewhat hidden behind the mustache and goatee they’d once again donned for the celebrations, along with a clean shirt and pants. Their hair was back to its usual brown after a long shower that morning. Dean was happy that they’d done what their mother had wanted, even if it wasn’t quite in the way the queen had anticipated.

  When the cheers finally died down, Percival continued.

  “Now, we do have others to acknowledge. I would like to thank the Mignons of Insufferable Isle, with whom I met personally,” Percival began to grimace here, but quickly caught himself, “and who picked many hundreds of mangoes on my request as a gift to the Tiramisu Trolls. We couldn’t have done it without you.”

  A great cheer went up near the back of the crowd and a bunch of small stocky brown beings with mounds of frizzy yellow hair, jumped up and down. “That’s us! That’s us!” they exclaimed. Dean smiled and waved to them. They really weren’t so bad after all. At least from a distance.

  Percival continued. “So now I want also to thank the Tiramisu Trolls, without whom I’m sure we would not have been successful. On top of the mangoes they received, our Magus bakers have sent seven-dozen of their finest cakes and pastries. Unfortunately, none of the trolls could be here as they all wanted to get back to the Dehydrated Desert to dance to disco and devour decadent desserts.”

  Another cheer of thanks went out to the trolls.

  “And to the sphinx of the Riddled Ridge, we thank them for allowing the trolls temporary free passes through the mountains so that they could help us in our cause.”

  Another cheer, a little lighter this time.

  “To Hercules Poisson,” Percival pointed at the row of seats behind him, to the impeccably tuxedo-dressed tuna-person, “who recruited and led the successful assault on the Concreta naval ships.”

  Hercules touched up his mustaches, then stood and bowed most elegantly while the crowds cheered. Dean caught his eye and smiled. He winked back and dabbed his gills with a damp, white handkerchief.

  “I would also like to thank some unexpected allies. Though we may have a history of fearing the Mother Puck pirates, today we celebrate the name of Captain Capitan and first mates Measley and Bullgod who, after learning through Concretian sources that Mr. Sactual was planning to bomb the Manor here, rowed all the way from Slightly Silly Sea and up the Reversing River to save both the city and our Princey.”

  Percival gestured again to the seats behind him. The trio of pirates stood while the crowds cheered. The captain bowed. Measley shuffled his feet, his face as red as a hot iron. Bullgod waved and did a little jig.

  “And of course, a great thank you goes out to all of you, my dear Magitorians. The potters and actors and writers and bakers and musicians and everyone in between, for rising to the challenge and letting the magic of your imaginations lead us to victory!”

  Percival pumped his fin in the air and the crowds went wild, jumping up, hugging one another, back slapping, and the like. It was several minutes before Percival could continue.

  “And finally, to the one without whom Princey Dean would not even be here.” (He was reading Dean’s words this time.) “Who accompanied them on a great and perilous journey to arrive at Magus Manor with just enough time to save the day. Who organized our winged citizens to enter the forest to collect and grind into powder its berries and mushrooms and mushberries. I present to you the smartest and most dedicated Security Committee membe
r I’ve ever known: Rosie Rainbow!”

  Cheers as loud and boisterous as those for Dean went up from the crowd. Rose stood and waved a bandaged wing, wincing from the noise. She had a headache from the after-effects of the forest powders. Not to mention the several glasses of Port Potty port she’d partaken in the night before.

  When the crowd finally calmed down, Percival continued.

  “A few last words. I think this experience has taught all of us something. First, as you all know, magic and imagination are critical to our society and our happiness and must never be subdued.

  “However,” he raised a fin for emphasis, “it has also highlighted our shortcomings: we relied too much on one person—our Queen—to come and save us, rather than using our own imaginations to do the job. We must learn to believe in ourselves more, to let our imaginations run free, beyond the limits of painting, pottery and poetry and into all aspects of our lives, whether that is drying dishes, planting plants or building buildings. This experience will surely help us to create an even greater Magitoria and to aid the Concretians as they work through the huge changes that are coming to their land now that Mr. Sactual has been ousted. Perhaps we may even see the end to artificial and divisive boundaries and become one great land.” Percival paused as the crowd clapped.

  “But enough serious talk! The Princey and Rose must prepare for their return to Mundaland to retrieve our Queen and her King by Marriage, and the rest of us must prepare to continue our celebrations.” He waved both fins in the air. “Fantastic citizens of Magitoria, enjoy the day!”

  As a five-piece band at the bottom of the Manor steps began to play some upbeat music and the citizens began to dance, Rose and Dean slipped back into the Manor and retreated to the Queen’s office; currently Percival’s room.