Misspelled

by Julie E. Czerneda

  Behind Shiba, the blond puppy took up the chorus in a thin, piping and inexpert howl, oowaooohwaaaa!

  Baffled, she backed away from it all. She found Taliya’s face crumpling as well, and then the ruckus and that thin little howl triggered her own hound song, and she lifted her nose to the sky to join in. Aaahwoouuuooouuo . . . !, a chorus of cacophony with Sabre’s chop bark sounding hard and clear in the background.

  Which is how Eldon found them.

  But Eldon had his own concerns. ‘‘Where’s Tallon?’’ he asked abruptly, with no apparent awareness that anything on the home front might be amiss.

  ‘‘You!’’ Taliya swiped away angry tears. ‘‘You said it was harmless unless it was in the presence of magic! You were wrong! Now fix it!’’

  Eldon stopped short. An older man, lean and lanky with big bony hands that knew just where to scratch a canine ear, normally unflappable—now he stared, nonplussed. Finally he cleared his throat. ‘‘Well, they don’t look like they’ve been harmed, exactly . . .’’

  ‘‘Eldon . . .’’ The word was a warning growl. Shiba lowered her head and growled for real.

  Eldon circled the trio, peeked in at the blond puppy. Then he offered, ‘‘At least they’re not old enough to be butt-sniffing.’’

  Taliya’s eyes widened with horror; she threw her hands in the air, plunking down to sit on the ground as though she’d suddenly lost strength in her legs. The three young humans did as they always did when she sat with them—they swarmed her, pushing each other away to claim her lap.

  ‘‘Don’t you dare,’’ she told them. ‘‘Don’t you dare lick my face.’’

  Eldon to the rescue, at last. ‘‘That’ll do, puppies.’’

  His no-nonsense voice got their attention, and if they didn’t back away, they at least settled. Shiba gave Trey a lick across his ruffled hair, but he didn’t even taste the same and she backed away, lowering herself to lie with her chin on her paws and her most soulful expression directed toward Eldon.

  ‘‘Now,’’ he said. ‘‘Tell me what happened.’’

  Taliya told him. Short and to the point, she told him. She gestured with the cut-glass bottle, sloshing the remains of the potion. In the background, Sabre had gone from the excited bark of trail found to the more musical bark of running trail . . . and now his muffled chop-bark for treed drifted in on the light breeze. She said, ‘‘The puppies dragged the other one out, too, but they didn’t return with it. Sabre’s out there trailing it now.’’

  Eldon shook his head. ‘‘It has to have been the puppies. Sabre and Shiba shouldn’t have been so close to the border when they—well. It hasn’t happened before. They’ve already got magic woven into their breeding lines; there’s no telling what effect such a conception had on them. Obviously more than any of us anticipated.’’

  ‘‘You mean—’’

  ‘‘I mean, I told you the truth. That potion is inactive unless in the presence of magic, and its purpose is to reverse the magic it intercepts. Under the circumstances . . . I think it did the best it could.’’

  ‘‘It’s a stupid potion, then,’’ Taliya sniffed. But she had hope in her voice when she added, ‘‘So maybe we can just put them together and sprinkle the potion around, and they’ll go back the way they were?’’

  ‘‘It’s the first thing I’d try,’’ Eldon said. ‘‘Except . . .’’

  Taliya narrowed her eyes so fiercely they were nothing more than angry maternal slits. ‘‘Except what, Eldon?’’

  ‘‘We can’t use it for that. And we can’t wait around to find the other bottle.’’ In the background, Sabre’s call had stopped. Shiba looked anxiously toward the woods, knowing Sabre would never give up on a trail, especially not once he’d barked treed. ‘‘And I’m afraid the longer the . . . children stay in these unnatural forms, the harder it’ll be to reverse the process.’’

  ‘‘Why?’’ Taliya demanded. ‘‘Why can’t we use it for that?’’

  Eldon looked at Shiba and looked at Taliya and finally said, most reluctantly, ‘‘Because you two are too damned good at what you do. I’ve gotten word that Tallon has been targeted for magical attack. Wherever he is, he needs the rest of this potion, and he needs it now.’’

  ‘‘He’s in town,’’ Taliya said instantly. And then, ‘‘Take it to him. I’ll find Sabre—he’s got the other one. These . . . children will bathe in the stuff if I have anything to say about it.’’

  ‘‘Just don’t get it on you,’’ Eldon said dryly. ‘‘Taliya, if it doesn’t work, I’ll have the best minds in the Line Patrol here to sort this out as soon as possible. Don’t think we won’t take care of this.’’

  ‘‘But it might be too late, you said.’’

  Eldon didn’t answer. But he wouldn’t meet Taliya’s eyes, and he wouldn’t even look at Shiba.

  That couldn’t be good.

  And then Sabre trotted proudly into the clearing, his face and paws encrusted with loamy dirt, his jaws carefully clamped around a bottle that looked the twin to the one Eldon held.

  There was no cork.

  As Sabre came to a stop before Taliya and triumphantly presented his prize, one last drop of potion dripped to the ground and quickly soaked in. Gone. Shiba’s head felt suddenly heavier on her paws; she rolled her eyes to see what Taliya would do.

  Taliya pressed her lips together in that way that usually meant whichever smuggler they trailed was in big trouble now, and she looked at Eldon.

  Eldon only closed his eyes and winced.

  Taliya said, ‘‘We’re coming with you.’’

  Eldon’s eyes flew open.

  ‘‘Tallon needs the potion. We need the potion. That means we need to be at the same place, the same time.’’

  ‘‘How—’’ Eldon said, looking at the young humans, and looking at the blond puppy. ‘‘All the way—?’’ And finally, desperately, ‘‘You know it’s not safe!’’

  ‘‘And neither was that potion!’’ Taliya snapped at him, an argument he could never win.

  Shiba wore her brush guard and her trailing harness with its identifying medallion. Sabre wore only his harness and medallion. Taliya wore whatever she’d thrown on that morning. The three young human puppies rode in a garden wagon, wore their makeshift tunics, and made no bones about squatting by the side of the road when necessary, tumbling in and out of the wagon as they pleased with no effort at human-type noises as they communicated their curiosity, their needs, and their concerns. The blond puppy slept in its picnic basket in the wagon.

  And when the puppy woke and cried in hunger, Taliya looked down at herself and the damp spots on the front of her blouse, and she looked down at Shiba . . .

  And for a short while, Shiba rode in the wagon so the blond puppy could nurse, and Eldon used all his energy keeping the young human puppies from climbing in to do the same. ‘‘There are so many things wrong with this moment that I can’t even hold it all in my head at the same time.’’

  ‘‘Potion,’’ Taliya said. ‘‘Not safe. It’s your turn to pull the wagon.’’

  Strange how Shiba could run an entire day on trail in the woods and not feel the heat or the fatigue, but a couple of miles on this road . . . She panted heavily, and she stopped at every little creek to quench her thirst. So did the young human-puppies, crouching over to lap the water with little efficiency and to roll in it as Shiba did. Barefoot and dripping and squealing, they ran down the road ahead of the little procession—until they finally ran out of energy and curled up in a heap, crammed into the wagon around the basket.

  Late afternoon cast long shadows by the time they reached the town. Shiba’s ears flattened at the noise of the place; her nose stung from the humansmell, the spicyfoodsmells, and the livestockpoopsmells. And there, threading among it all, was the merest hint of magicsmell. She looked at Sabre, saw that faraway look in his eyes that said his nose was about to overcome his brain, and gave Taliya a small wooah of warning. When both Taliya and Eldon looked at her, she conf
irmed it, lifting her nose slightly to test the scent as she repeated the warning. Wooah.

  ‘‘It could be something stray, slipped through the lines,’’ Eldon said, as the young ones stirred in the wagon, woken by the scents and sounds of this place. No one paid them much attention; most were headed in the opposite direction, their minds on home and supper and not caring much about the odd little procession.

  ‘‘And it could be whoever’s come for Tallon,’’ Taliya said sharply. Her trust in Eldon’s judgment, it was clear, had been diminished this day. Distracted, she was a moment too late to stop the three former puppies from slipping out of the wagon, squatting briefly in the street, and then dispersing.

  It instantly became apparent that they were the perfect height to take full advantage of these first meetings with strangers. Just the right height to—

  Sniff.

  Taliya made a strangled noise; she grabbed one of the boys and got him to the wagon as Eldon grabbed the other. Cuttie danced just out of reach, laughing at the spectacle of Taliya dodging through the people who’d collected at the town gate bottleneck, waiting their turn to leave for the day. Eldon, holding the two boys in the cart, said, ‘‘She’s a pu—’’ thought better of it, and tried again. ‘‘Do what you’d do if she still looked like Shiba.’’

  Taliya, her face red, instantly turned her back on Cuttie, picked up the wagon handle, and marched down the main road into town. Within moments Cuttie had caught up to the wagon, and though she wouldn’t be caught, she stayed close. And Shiba, reassured that the family was still together, looked at Taliya and said, ‘‘Wooah!’’

  Taliya had that thin-lipped, exasperated look. ‘‘I know where he’s supposed to be, but I bet I know where he is. I’m going to turn the dogs loose, Eldon. I’m not taking the chance that the magic they scent isn’t about hurting Tallon. If we’re wrong, we’ll have still found magic that shouldn’t be here. Either way, we’re all in the same place at the same time with the potion.’’

  Eldon opened his mouth as though plainly not liking it. And then he looked at Taliya’s face and closed it again, tipping his head in assent.

  ‘‘Go!’’ Taliya said to the linehounds. ‘‘Shiba, Sabre—find it!’’

  Shiba’s fatigue vanished; she sprang forward. She had no chance of outrunning Sabre, but Sabre slowed to wait as Shiba’s nose untangled the faint strains of magic from this crowd—from the human legs they raced through, the cart wheels, the merchant stalls. They gained speed and confidence as the magicsmell grew stronger, and they finally raced right up a collection of outdoor tables and benches where men and women drank from foam-headed mugs, finding a wispy fog of magic hovering around the shoulders of their very own Tallon. To the laughter of those at the other tables, both hounds leaped to bounce off Tallon’s shoulders; the only thing that kept him from flying off his bench was the fact that they did it from opposite sides. ‘‘Bawhouuu!’’ they bellowed in chorus, deafening him equally in each ear.

  ‘‘Shiba!’’ he said in astonishment, half his strongly scented drink spilling on the table. ‘‘Sabre!’’

  ‘‘No dogs!’’ shouted a voice from the back, barely audible over the hound-generated chaos. ‘‘No dogs!’’

  ‘‘Tallon!’’ Here came Taliya, hauling the wagon at top speed; Eldon ran alongside, keeping the young ones in the wagon. Cuttie trailed behind, yipping with excitement. ‘‘Tallon, there’s danger—’’

  ‘‘What the—what’re you—Shiba, Sabre, leave it!’’ And then Tallon seemed to realize where they’d found him, for he said, ‘‘I was just—and who are—? Where’s the baby?’’

  ‘‘Potion,’’ Taliya said, her voice hard and meaningful. ‘‘Not safe.’’

  ‘‘Bawhouu!’’ Shiba added emphatically. Magicsmell, right here!

  Eldon, panting, said, ‘‘They heard about our plans— they’re going for a preemptive blow—got a tip they’ll go after you—’’

  ‘‘Bawhouu!’’

  Taliya snatched up the potion bottle from the blond puppy’s basket. ‘‘It’s all we have left, and we had to be together so the children . . . the puppies . . .’’

  ‘‘Bawhouu!’’

  ‘‘Whoa,’’ Tallon said, turning a funny shade of gray. ‘‘I don’t feel so good—’’ And he reeled on the bench, turning an even funnier shade of white.

  ‘‘Now!’’ Eldon said. ‘‘They’re already here, they’ve already done it—now, Taliya!’’

  Taliya fumbled the bottle, pulling at the cork; she’d jammed it in there so tightly that Eldon had to leave the young humans in the wagon and together they wrestled with it even as Tallon made a gasping noise and fell over the table, his head clonking audibly on the stained wood.

  Beside herself, Shiba ran to Taliya and leaped into the air as she would leap beside a tree that held magic smugglers, and at the height of the leap she blasted a frantic ‘‘Bawhouuuu!’’ so Taliya and Eldon both jerked in surprise, popping the cork and sprinkling the potion hither and yon.

  Shiba crouched where she landed, watching . . . Sabre put a paw on Tallon’s leg, watching . . . Eldon and Taliya held their breath, both watching . . .

  From the back, a voice shouted, ‘‘No dogs! None!’’

  And then Tallon took a funny gurgling breath and lifted his head. The wagon and its occupants disappeared in a strong smell of magic, turning wispy and gray and unseeable and then resolving again.

  Puppies. Puppies and a baby. Yapping, whining, squalling—

  From the back, ‘‘No babies, either!’’

  And then one sound that didn’t fit with the others.

  A giggle.

  A girl-human giggle, as Cuttie ran up to the wagon to put her cheek against her brothers’ plump canine forms, exchanging happy puppy kisses and little yips of delight.

  ‘‘Cuttie,’’ Taliya said in horror, looking at the empty potion bottle. ‘‘She wasn’t close enough—it’ll be too late—’’

  ‘‘You were supposed to change back!’’ Eldon said, with enough ferocity to speak of his desperation. Sabre slunk beneath the table. A mournful howl welled up in Shiba’s throat. Tallon said, ‘‘Wha—?’’

  Cuttie stopped her little frolic to look at her brothers and then to look down at herself. ‘‘Oh,’’ she said, in her unexpected little girl voice. ‘‘Is that all?’’ A quick flashburn of magicsmell, a quick blink of can’t-see -it, and a dark little bewitching bitch puppy scampered around the wagon, looking for a way to join her brothers.

  ‘‘You!’’ Taliya scooped her up and plunked her in the wagon. ‘‘Conceived in the borderlands, were you?’’ Eldon sat heavily on the bench, looking stunned . . . looking at the puppies. Looking at Cuttie. Tallon only said, ‘‘Wha—?’’

  Shiba looked up at Taliya; Taliya looked down at Shiba. ‘‘I think we’re in for trouble.’’

  Puppies.

  Narrator: And the next generation begins. A little confused perhaps—a misspell will do that—but well loved. They’ve nothing to worry about. It will be ages before teenage angst arrives. Years at least. Months?

  DORANNA DURGIN was born writing (instead of kicking, she scribbled on the womb) and never quit, although it took some time for the world to understand what she was up to. She eventually ended up in the southwestern high country with her laptop, dogs, horse, and uncontrollable imagination. She not only writes across genres, with backlist in fantasy, tie-in, science fiction and fantasy anthologies, mysteries, and action-adventure/ romance and paranormals, but in her ‘‘spare’’ time, she runs a Web site design business, Blue Hound Visions. You can find scoops about new projects, lots of silly photos, and contact info online at her website. www.doranna.net

  The Witch of Westmoreland Avenue

  Morgan S. Brilliant

  Narrator: When you have a problem you can’t resolve on your own, be it a leaky pipe or infected computer, you call an expert. Or, in this case, you call Ellison Pride, a witch who specializes in things magical. Before you call, however, ma
ke sure you know exactly what your problem is.

  "Again".

  Shelby Kusanagi sighed and recited the words of the incantation for the fifteenth time.

  Outside the soundproof booth, Ellison Pride idly conjured a bar of Swiss chocolate as she listened through headphones. If she remembered correctly, this was her last, and she’d have to replenish her stash. Until she did, the trick would net her nothing but Hershey bars. She’d already eaten all the Belgian truffles and the intensely dark Venezuelan bars.

  Ellison unwrapped the chocolate slowly, carefully broke off a square, and gently placed it in her mouth. She almost closed her eyes to savor the experience, but one does not take one’s eyes from an apprentice reciting an incantation any more than one leaves a toddler unattended. Even if the apprentice is reciting in a soundproof booth—better safe than any number of possible sorry fates.

  Shelby finished the incantation as Ellison finished her third square of chocolate. It was her fourth consecutive recitation without error, and Ellison considered letting her quit for the day.

  ‘‘Again,’’ she concluded. Something about the number five seemed satisfying. Besides, Ellison could eat three more squares of chocolate in peace while she listened.

  But she only got through two before her cell phone sounded the first three bars of an Israeli dance tune.

  For a moment, Ellison thought of letting it go to her voice mail. But Shelby was almost finished, and then Ellison would be free for the day. She slid the headphones down around her neck, flipped open the phone, and answered the call.