A Muddle of Magic

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A Muddle of Magic Page 34

by Alexandra Rushe


  Tiny ignored the unicorn and lumbered north, kicking into his special distance-eating gait.

  “Where are we going, Tiny?” Raine asked the giant as they left the Citadel behind, but Tiny did not answer.

  She repeated the question several more times but got no response. Mumbling to himself, Tiny seemed engrossed in his mission.

  “Someplace safe,” he murmured in a singsong voice as he tromped along. “Tiny must keep Rainey safe.”

  Raine gave up and settled in for the ride. She fastened her gaze on the mountains in the distance. The secret to riding a giant, she’d learned, was to keep your eyes focused on something and not look at the swirling colors. She reached out to Flame several times, but got no response from him, either. Though the dragon’s silence was worrisome, Raine decided Tiny was right. Few monsters would be foolish enough to challenge a dragon.

  Tiny clomped along. One jolting stride landed them safely in a clearing in the middle of deep forest, another took them across a rushing mountain stream; still another thumped them down in a lonely mountain valley. As they climbed higher into the mountains the temperature dropped, and Raine thought with longing of the cloak and gloves she’d left in her rooms. Clinging to Tiny’s vest with one hand, she stuck the other hand under her arm for warmth, switching when the exposed hand grew numb. Tiny, in contrast, seemed to thrive on the cold. His cheeks grew rosier and his step lighter the more the temperature plummeted.

  Tiny halted and pointed to a cleft between two oddly shaped peaks in the distance. “See them mountains? Udom be beyond that pass. We be at Mam’s in two shakes.”

  “We’re going to your mother’s?”

  “Aye. Didn’t I tells you?”

  “No, you haven’t said a word.”

  “Sorry,” said Tiny. “Had m’ mind on remembering what Gertie told Tiny to do. Don’t know no place safer’n Mam’s.”

  He clunked on toward the mountains and entered a deep gorge. The mountains on either side of them shifted, and two gigantic faces stared down at them.

  “Dom, dom, Uuu-dom,” the craggy sentinels boomed, their deep voices reverberating like drums. “Dom, dom, Uuu-dom.”

  Raine shrieked in surprise. “Cheesy Pete, what are those things?”

  Tiny chuckled. “Startled you, eh? That be Terald and Fensal, stone giants what guard the gates of Udom. Noisy bits of slag, eh?”

  “No need to be rude,” one of the mountains said. “We just be doing our job.”

  “Where’d you get the morsel on your shoulder, Tiny?” the other mountain asked with a hideous leer. The nose on the enormous stone face stretched and grew. “Come ʼere, little bird. Terald’s got a perch for you.”

  “I’ll thank you to keep a civil tongue in yer head, Terald,” Tiny said without breaking stride, “or I’ll take a chisel to that ugly mug of yourn.”

  “Don’t mind him,” the other mountain said. “Being cooped up so long has him stir-crazy.”

  Tiny halted. “Stir-crazy or no, Fensal, your brother will keep his nasty remarks to hisself, or I’ll cover him with a sheet of ice and grind him to gravel.”

  “You heard the frost giant,” Fensal shouted to his brother on the other side of the gorge as Tiny walked on. “You gon’ get us in trouble again. It be your fault we be stuck in these mountains.”

  “My fault?” Terald rumbled back. “I be sick o’ your whining, Fensal.”

  Raine heard a loud noise and turned to look back. The mountains were cursing and lobbing boulders at one another. A rock hit Terald in the nose, and he howled.

  “Those two,” Tiny said in a tone of disapproval. “Sorry ’bout that, Raine. Stone giants be quarrelsome sorts.”

  “What happened to them?”

  “Riled the gods, the granite-brained idiots. You ever heared the story of Xan and Magog?”

  “Part of it. I know Magog killed his brother.”

  “Aye, but do you know why?”

  “No.”

  “It be over a woman.”

  “A woman?”

  “Shh.” Tiny looked around nervously. “Not so loud. Echoes carry in these mountains, and the gods have keen ears. Xan and Magog be sweet on the same woman, see? The story goes that Terald and Fensal had a hand in it.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “They got the woman and Xan together, don’t you know, and Magog be fratched. When Magog killed Xan, the gods took it out on Terald and Fensal. Stuck ʼem inside those mountains to punish ʼem. Been there fer thousands o’ years.”

  “That’s horrible,” Raine said.

  “Leastways, they gots sumpin to do, guarding the pass. Otherwise, they’d just be a-sitting there.”

  They traveled deeper into the mountains and came, at last, to a ridge overlooking a quiet valley.

  “That be me mam’s place,” Tiny said, pointing down at the lush glen.

  The bitter chill of winter still clung to the mountains of Udom, but it was spring in Mam’s valley. The gentle hills stretched out before them, rumpled and green, and yellow and white flowers swayed on the grassy slopes and along the banks of a small river. Sheep grazed quietly on the slopes. Higher up, goats pranced among the rocks.

  “It’s lovely, Tiny,” Raine said, her teeth chattering.

  More importantly, it looked warm. Raine was half frozen.

  “Aye, Mam likes to tinker w’ the weather. Full o’ tricks, she be. You’ll see fer yourself, soon enow. Hang on, Rainey. This last bit be rough going.”

  Tiny lurched down the side of the mountain, his huge sandaled feet kicking up rocks and gravel, and landed with a bone-jarring thump at one end of the picturesque valley.

  A sheep ambled over to greet them. Raine’s eyes widened in astonishment as the fluffball drew closer. The creature was big as a Clydesdale. She glanced instinctively at the sky, looking for Flame. The dragon would regard Mam’s sheep as a high treat.

  The sheep gave Tiny an affectionate butt.

  “Ere now, Idelette,” Tiny said, scratching the gigantic animal behind the ears. “Run along and tell Mam we be here. There be a good girl.”

  “Maaaam, maaaam,” the sheep bleated, trotting away.

  “Better’n a watch dog, Idelette,” Tiny said fondly. “She be a runt and bottle fed. Follows Mam about ever’where.” He set out across the broad fields, following a path that ran beside the river. “Mam’s be thisaway.”

  They rounded a bend and came upon a cottage, a small, neat dwelling with a thatched roof and an orange door. A huge oak spread its limbs on one side of the cottage and a dirt lane, neatly swept, led from the house to the river. Lilac bushes bloomed beneath the shuttered windows, and fat pink and yellow climbing roses formed an arch over the door.

  Idelette had reached the house ahead of them and stood with her head inside an open window.

  “Pretty place, eh?” Tiny said with pride in his voice.

  “This is your mother’s house?” Raine asked. “I was expecting something…bigger.”

  Tiny chuckled. “Aye, I reckon you was.”

  The front door opened, and a small woman stepped out of the house.

  “ʼLo, Mam,” Tiny said, beaming at the tiny woman hurrying to meet them. “I done brung a friend to meetcha.” He set Raine down carefully down upon the path. “Raine, this be Mam. Mam, this here be Raine, the squiggie I tole you about.”

  Tiny’s mother was barely five feet tall and neat as a pin. Her brown hair was streaked with silver and wound in a bun. Like her son, she had a long nose, a generous, full-lipped mouth, and a blooming complexion. A starched apron covered a long woolen dress that was clean but worn. The tips of her sturdy black boots peeked from beneath the hem of her dress.

  Mam’s black eyes were bright and shiny as a crow’s and gleaming with intelligence.

  “Pleased to make your acquaintance, I be sure,” Mam said. “
Tiny be fond o’ you.”

  “Thank you,” Raine said, struggling to absorb the dissimilitude between this dab of a woman and her gigantic son. “Tiny talks about you all the time.”

  A smile warmed Mam’s black eyes. “Flummoxed, be you? Ole Mam don’t be what you expected?”

  “I thought there’d be more of you,” Raine admitted, adding, “but I don’t know anything about giants.”

  “Not many do, and that be the way we likes it. Tiny says you don’t be from around here?”

  “No, ma’am.”

  “Well, there you go. Mos’ folks reckon giantesses be of a size with the males, but they be wrong. Giantesses be small in stature, but large in magic, don’t you know.” Mam grinned. “I think it the better bargain. A giantess can pass among humans, but a big fellow like my Tiny? He’d stick out.” She tilted her head. “Not that we gots much use for humans. Giants keeps to themselves.”

  “Mrs. Rimefeld,” Raine began.

  “Mam. Call me Mam.”

  “Yessum,” Raine said. “Have you seen a…um…” She paused, then blurted. “Have you seen a dragon, by chance?”

  Mam’s expression sharpened. “Aye, one passed over the valley this morning. Thought it might be a hippogriff, at first. Scared the sheep silly. You be dragon hunting?”

  “Nay, Mam,” Tiny said. “There be a ruckus at the arena during the games. Squiggies running ever’where. Gertie tole me to take Raine someplace safe.” He regarded his mother anxiously. “So, I brung her here.”

  “And welcome she is, too,” Mama said. “What happened at the games? Did they let an ogre at the green cheese again?”

  “Nay, ʼtwere Flame. He showed up and the squiggies run amuck.”

  “Flame is the dragon,” Raine said when Mam looked puzzled. “He didn’t mean to cause a scene. Some bad men tried to take him, and he was scared.”

  “Shads, no doubt,” Mam said with a wise nod. “They’ve been pestering m’ boy, the shifty raggers. Chased a party of ʼem out o’ the valley wiv a storm two days ago.”

  “Did you happen to see which way the dragon went?” Raine asked. “I’m worried about him.”

  “Raine raised him from an egg, Mam,” Tiny said, “and she be right fond o’ the critter.”

  “He flew north,” Mam said, “but I wouldn’t fratch too much about your dragon. I reckon he be wiv Kron.”

  “Kron?” Raine said, startled.

  “Aye. Kron has a workshop somewhere in these mountains and he has a fondness for monsters. Made us, you know. That’s where your dragon be, I expect.”

  To Raine’s mortification, her stomach growled. It had been hours, she realized, since she’d eaten at the games.

  “Sakes, child, you be peckish and me standing here jawing,” Mam said. “Come along to the house and I’ll get you something to eat.”

  She turned and walked briskly back toward the cottage.

  Raine hurried after her. “Please, don’t go to trouble on my account.”

  “It be no bother,” Mam said without slowing. “Tiny don’t have many friends. Been too busy taking care o’ me, since his brothers, Walt and Edlo, took off.” She paused to look back at Raine. “That be the way wiv mos’ giants. They gets the roaming fever and be gone. Reckon that be why there don’t be more of us. But Tiny be a good boy. He takes care o’ his mam.”

  Tiny clomped down the path behind them. “I could eat a bite o’ sumpin, too, Mam.”

  “I never doubted it, son.”

  They reached the cottage and Mam motioned Raine inside. The interior of the little house, like its owner, was painfully neat. The plank floors were spotless and showed evidence of a recent scrubbing, and the narrow cot along one wall had been carefully made and covered with a bright woolen quilt. In the corner of the room were a small loom, a spinning wheel, and several baskets of combed wool. Bundles of dried flowers and herbs hung from the rafters of the low ceiling. On the back wall, a small fire burned in the stone fireplace, and a black pot and a dented kettle with a broken handle sat on the grate. Beneath the window were a table and chairs. The wood gleamed from a recent application of bee’s wax, and the air was scented with lemon balm. A chipped crockery mug with wild flowers sat on the table.

  Raine walked over to examine the table. The workmanship was fine.

  “Tiny made that and the chairs for me,” Mam said, bustling about the room. “He be good wiv his hands, though he don’t be one to toot his own horn.”

  Tiny lay on the ground and stuck his head in the window. “Did I hears my name?”

  “Don’t wallow in the garden, son.” Mam shoved a basket into Raine’s arms. “I’ve gathered the crockery for our tea. Take these things outside, dearie. I’ll be along in a moment wiv the rest.”

  “You want me to fetch t’ other table, Mam?” Tiny asked.

  “That ʼud be grand, son. You’ll find it under the oak. Put it in the meadow, where our guest can enjoy the sunshine.”

  The windows grew dark and then bright again as Tiny lurched to his feet, throwing the cottage in momentary shadow. Raine carried the basket outside. Whistling, Tiny retrieved a table and stools from beneath the oak tree and placed them in the grassy meadow beside the house. He sat down near the table and crossed his hairy legs. His ragged kilt rested on his broad thighs, revealing a pair of grimy knees.

  Raine unpacked the basket, setting out chipped cups, a jar of honey, a rusty tin of tea, two spoons, a butter knife, and a tea pot. Mam joined them with another basket containing a loaf of bread, two rounds of cheese, a pie, a jar of jam, and fresh butter wrapped in a cloth. Mam set the food on the table, taking care to leave space between the items. She rubbed her hands over the loaf of bread, releasing a shower of blue sparks. To Raine’s amazement, the loaf of bread expanded, increasing in size until it was five feet long. Nodding in satisfaction, Mam moved down the table, repeating the same ritual, until she’d enlarged the rest of the food.

  “So that’s how you feed a giant,” Raine said. “Very clever.”

  “Aye, giants be peckish, and no doubt.” Mam turned her bright gaze on her son. “Tiny, if you’ve a knife, you may slice the bread and cheese, but first, wash your hands and face.” She looked her large offspring up and down, her gaze lingering on his dirty feet and knees. “I daresay the rest o’ you could stand a wash, too, but I won’t push it. You’ve hated a bath since you be a mablet. Oh, and fetch the goat’s milk.”

  “Aw, Mam,” Tiny said with a groan. “I washed two days ago.”

  “And you’ll wash again today, if’n you wants to eat. Mind you get behind your ears and comb your hair. I’ll have no dirty giants at my table.”

  Tiny sighed and got to his feet.

  “I’ll go with you, Tiny,” Raine said, feeling sorry for him. “I wouldn’t mind a wash.”

  Tiny stared down at her. “You wouldn’t? That be peculiar, and no lie.”

  “Mind the nixie, son,” Mam said, unwrapping the butter. She looked up at Raine. “Have you iron about you?”

  “Um…no, ma’am.”

  “Then take this.” Reaching in her apron product, Mam produced a nail. “ʼTwill protect you.”

  “Thank you,” Raine said, puzzled but determined to be polite.

  Her dress was without a pocket, so she tucked the nail in the laces of her boot and followed Tiny down to the river. She sat on a rock at the river’s edge while Tiny fetched a wooden bucket from the branch of a tree.

  He removed the lid from the bucket and pointed, his expression gloomy. “There be the soap. Have a wash, if you be so keen on it.”

  Grabbing a large brown cake from the pail, Tiny waded into the river. Raine pulled off her stockings and boots and tossed them aside, her gaze on the stream.

  “It looks cold,” she said, watching Tiny dip the soap into the water and rub it between his huge palms. “That probably doesn’t b
other you, though.”

  “It be cold, even fer a frost giant.” Tiny vigorously lathered his face. Although the giant was hairy, his face was beardless and smooth. “Comes down out o’ the mountains where there don’t be nothing but ice and snow. But I don’t mind the cold so much as the wet.” He tossed the slimy bar of soap into the bucket on the river bank. “And the soap, o’ course. Never seen such a one fer soap as Mam. It be a wonder she didn’t wash me skinless when I were a nipper.”

  Raine was regretting her impulsive offer to join the giant. She was just starting to thaw. Still, she didn’t want Tiny to think her a coward. Besides, how bad could it be? Hiking up her skirts, she stepped off the bank into the river and yelped in shock. The water was so cold it took her breath away. Hastily, she washed her hands and feet and lunged back onto the riverbank.

  “Holy smoke, the water is freezing,” she said, stomping around to return the feeling to her feet.

  “Told yah.” Tiny rinsed, his expression morose. “Freeze yer nethers, it will.”

  “What you and Mam need is a hot tub. Are there any hot springs nearby?”

  “Aye, at t’other end o’ the valley.” Removing a large comb from a pouch at his belt, Tiny went to work on his long, tangled hair. “It be a wee thing, really, hardly more ’n a trickle. Nowheres near enow to wet a big ’un like me.”

  “What if you were to build a wooden tub around the spring?” Raine said, growing more excited about the idea. “Even if it took a week to fill the tub, you’d have a hot bath.”

  The comb paused in Tiny’s hand. “Aye, that ʼud work, and no lie. Should of thunk o’ that m’ self.”

  Raine was pulling on her stockings when the first wistful strands of music floated from the willow across the river.

  “What’s that?” she asked, lifting her head.

  “That ‘ud be Green Man, the water nix Mam warned you about.” Finishing his ablutions, Tiny waded from the river. “Water sprites don’t be a bad lot, as a rule…unless you do sumpin to vex ʼem, o’ course, but that Green Man be a bad ʼun. Wicked through and through. Time and again, I’ve tole Mam to get rid o’ him, but she be too soft hearted. Live and let live, that be her motto.”

 

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