Blue Fire and Ice

by Alan Skinner

  ‘No better reason to be a Muddle,’ agreed Wave. ‘Well, I’d better go. I’ll stop by on my way back.’ He patted Miniver. ‘Don’t worry, Miniver. I’ll eat a big dinner tonight. Next time you see me I’ll be big and round like you.’

  ‘Nothing wrong with big and round,’ thought Miniver. ‘Some of the best bears I know are big and round.’ She growled a fond goodbye to Wave.

  ‘Bye, Wave,’ said Leaf. She put the top on her nail polish and looked up. ‘What’s wrong?’

  Wave was holding his CarryTune box, pressing the buttons to make it play. He frowned. ‘It doesn’t work. I pressed the button and nothing happened. It won’t play the songs. Maybe it needs new batteries.’ He pushed the button a couple more times, frowning even more.

  Leaf stood and blew on her freshly polished nail. She walked over to Wave and, careful not to smudge her nail, picked up his ear pads with the tips of her fingers and placed them in his ears.

  Wave’s face lit up. ‘Cool!’ he said, delighted. ‘Thanks, Leaf!’ Wave hummed, waved goodbye to Leaf and Miniver, and started pedalling. He guided the bicycle through the trees out of the glade and began the easy descent to the valley. He could see the vast fields of coffee trees that covered the walls of the valley to the west and to the north, and which spread upward along the gentle hills to the east.

  Wave felt a familiar glow of pleasure as the full valley came into view. He never tired of looking upon the beauty of Muddlemarsh and felt the same pleasure each time he did. He stopped his bicycle at the edge of the trees at the top of the slope and looked out over the valley.

  Something to the right caught his eye. A shadow among the trees, several hundred metres away, was moving steadily into the valley. ‘An animal?’ Wave wondered. The shadow emerged from a cluster of trees and Wave saw that it was not an animal at all but someone dressed in a long, dark robe. The hood had been thrown back and Wave realised that it was a woman moving into the valley.

  At first Wave thought she wore a metal cap, for her head had a glow and the sun reflected from her head. He was taken aback when he realised that the glow was coming from her hair. Wave had never seen hair so red. The stranger wore it short, cut over her ears and cropped just above her shoulders; it almost seemed like a helmet of fire.

  The woman moved carefully but swiftly. It occurred to Wave that not only was she in a hurry but that she didn’t want to be seen. She kept to the trees as much as possible but made directly for the north end of the valley.

  ‘She’s not a Muddle, that’s for sure,’ considered Wave. ‘And she doesn’t look like a Beadle. She must be a Myrmidot. Why doesn’t she want to be seen? And why is she heading north? Myrmidia is to the west.’

  Wave kept within the shadows of the trees until she had disappeared down the valley slope. Curious, he decided to follow the woman. The bike would be sure to give him away, so he rested it against a tree and set off on foot. Wave kept as far as possible behind her, just close enough to keep her in sight.

  All that day he followed the woman, past the coffee plantations to the wooded hills beyond. Once she had passed the coffee plantations, she became less concerned with remaining hidden, for few Muddles ventured here. She increased her pace without change in direction, Wave trailing her at a distance.

  The sun was dropping beneath the horizon to the west and the forest fell into the gloom of twilight. The woman didn’t pause or falter but kept a steady northward course. ‘I’ll know soon where she’s headed,’ he realised. Not far ahead was the Crossroads. There, the road forked. Straight ahead lay the Bourne Bridge and the Salvation River. It was the largest river in the Land. It started deep in the High Mountains to the north-east, far above Beadledom, then swept south-west, cutting across Muddlemarsh before continuing through a deep gorge and into Myrmidia.

  ‘If she takes the west road, she’ll make her way to Welcome Bridge and into Myrmidia. If she continues north, she’s headed for Bourne Bridge,’ reasoned Wave.

  No one knew who had built Bourne Bridge. It had always existed for the people of the Land. Some believed it was the first thing that the people of the Land had built, that it had been designed by the Myrmidots and constructed by the Beadles with help from the Muddles. Others said it has been put there by people who had lived in the place countless years before and who had split into three races: the Myrmidots, the Beadles and the Muddles. And yet others said it had been built by the first settlers more than a thousand years ago, who had ventured from unknown lands beyond the High Mountains. Sensible people scoffed at the last group, for everyone with a gram of sense knew that there was nothing beyond the High Mountains.

  The approach to Bourne Bridge on either side of Salvation River was through a deep cutting, the walls of which rose a hundred metres above the road. The bridge itself spanned Salvation River just at the entrance to the gorge, so that to the west the river increased in speed and fury, its white water crashing in on itself and against the walls of the gorge. To the east, the river was wider and slower, but still ran too strong for any person to swim.

  At the middle of the bridge, it was more than three hundred metres to the river below. Great stone supports fixed the bridge into the bedrock at either end. The span of the bridge was made of blocks of the same stone. Huge cables slung from the rock high above the bridge were anchored to the middle of the bridge.

  A few leagues beyond the bridge was the border of Muddlemarsh. The land between bridge and border was hard land, seldom visited. Not far past the bridge, the road disappeared, eaten by wild forest and the craggy hills. There were no paths or trails; just dense forest and formidable hills.

  Wave watched as the woman approached the Crossroads. Without hesitating, she stayed on her northward bearing, straight up the road. There was no doubt. She was heading for Bourne Bridge. Heading where there was no place to go. No place but the High Mountains. No one ever went to the High Mountains.

  Wave stood for a moment, trying to decide what to do. It would be impossible to follow her at night and dangerous to wander the rough country in the dark. She had come from the direction of Beadledom. ‘She might have something to do with Crimson and the others being there,’ he thought. ‘Or she might not. It’s so hard knowing what to do.’ Finally Wave decided it would be better to get word to Crimson and let her know what he had seen.

  It was nearly midnight by the time Wave had retrieved his bicycle. Leaf’s camp lay between him and Home. Leaf would be asleep so he would cycle through very quietly. As he neared the edge of the camp site, Miniver was waiting. She had heard and smelled Wave long before he appeared. In the pale light of Leaf’s night lantern, Wave could see the look of disapproval in Miniver’s eyes.

  ‘Don’t you go waking that child, now,’ she warned Wave.

  ‘Oh, stop growling at me, Miniver. I know it’s late. I won’t wake Leaf.’

  ‘And you should be in bed, too!’ growled the bear.

  ‘I can’t stay and chat, Miniver. I’ve got to get home and into bed,’ said Wave politely. ‘I have to be up early in the morning.’

  The flap of the tent was pushed opened and Leaf emerged, wearing her best scout pyjamas and holding a torch in her hand.

  ‘If you two are going to chat all night, I may as well stop trying to read and join you,’ she said.

  Miniver decided she would have a word or two to say to Leaf about reading under the bedclothes when she should be sleeping.

  ‘I wondered where you’d got to, Wave,’ said Leaf.

  ‘Something came up. Something important, I think,’ replied Wave and he told Leaf about the strange woman.

  ‘So, you see,’ he concluded, ‘I think she might have something to do with all the fires in Beadledom. I figured it was better tell Crimson first thing in the morning. Just in case.’

  ‘I think you’re right, Wave. Crimson should be told,’ agreed Leaf. ‘But I’ll go. You still have to check on the young trees, Wave. Harvest is soon and you know how important it is that everything’s ready.’
/>   ‘Are you sure, Leaf? That’s very good of you.’

  ‘Anyway, I’ve never been to Beadleburg. They might have a nice beauty shop.’

  Wave smiled. ‘OK, Leaf. You go. First thing in the morning. Take my bike. It’s not far back to Home from here. I can walk.’

  Leaf’s eyes went wide and she smiled. ‘Really? Gee, thanks, Wave. That’s awesome!’

  Wave smiled at her pleasure. ‘Now, you’d better get some sleep. Come and see me when you get back.’

  ‘OK, Wave. Will do. And thank you so much for letting me use your bike,’ she gushed.

  Wave laughed. ‘You’re welcome, Leaf. See you tomorrow.’

  ‘Haven’t you two chatted enough?’ said Miniver. She watched Wave walk into the darkness, then turned to look at Leaf who was still looking at Wave’s bike, picturing herself riding it.

  ‘OK, OK, Mother. I’m going,’ said Leaf, noticing Miniver’s look. ‘That’s so cool!’ she said to herself as she went back into the tent. She slipped into her sleeping bag and fell asleep almost immediately. Miniver lay at the door of the tent and waited until she was sure Leaf was asleep, then closed her eyes and fell asleep wondering if Wave would like a big dinner of whole mullet covered in honey and served with red berries.

  *

  At the same time that Leaf was decorating her tent, the guardians of Beadledom had assembled in Bligh’s office. Bligh sat behind his large desk in his large chair and was at his most solemn and serious. Brian, Bell and the Muddles – still very mixed – faced him from the other side of the desk. Brian sat stiffly, scowling every time he caught sight of Patch’s trousers. The Muddles were much more subdued than usual. Only Bell seemed unconcerned.

  ‘A disappointing night’s work,’ pronounced Bligh. ‘We had the villain in our grasp and let him get away.’ He shook his head sadly. ‘We could not have foreseen that our plan would be undone by … by what happened.’

  ‘True,’ said Bell. ‘It was unexpected. But it was not a complete loss. We know we were correct in the villain’s targets. We will know where we have to be now. That is, if we haven’t scared him off.’

  ‘I dare not hope that much,’ said Bligh, shaking his head. ‘And he must realise that we know which buildings he’s going to burn. We should assume that he’ll change his plans.’

  ‘I don’t think he will. There must be a reason why he chose our oldest buildings,’ said Bell.

  ‘It’s not him.’ Reach corrected them quietly. Rather than look at the others, she stared at the floor. She still felt that she had let everyone down by not holding onto the strange figure last night. ‘It’s her. The person last night was a woman.’

  Bligh’s eyes widened in surprise. Brian peered at Reach with suspicion. Grunge gave Reach an encouraging smile. Crimson remained silent.

  Bell looked at Reach. ‘Are you sure, Reach?’ he asked.

  Reach nodded. ‘I caught just a glimpse, Bell. I couldn’t really see. But it was a woman.’

  ‘Could you tell whether … was she a…’ Brian didn’t seem to be able to finish the question.

  Reach gave Brian a little smile. ‘I’m pretty sure she wasn’t a Beadle, Brian. She was too tall – and too … thin.’

  Even Bell was relieved. It had been hard for him to imagine that a Beadle might have been responsible.

  ‘Then it must have been a Muddle or a Myrmidot,’ said Bligh. Brian and Bell nodded. Reach and Crimson were silent.

  ‘She wasn’t a Muddle,’ said Grunge, sounding quite sure.

  ‘How can you be sure? Did you see her, too?’ asked Bligh.

  ‘No, I didn’t,’ admitted Grunge. ‘But she couldn’t have been a Muddle.’ He looked at the others. ‘She didn’t mix.’

  The others stared back at Grunge for a moment then realised he was right. He noticed a look of gratitude in Crimson’s eyes that he didn’t understand. ‘She looks relieved,’ he thought to himself.

  ‘Of course,’ cried Reach. ‘She didn’t! I would have felt it. We all would have seen it!’ Once again, she found herself wishing she was smart like Grunge.

  ‘I’m glad,’ said Bligh softly. ‘I wouldn’t have liked it if …’ He didn’t need to finish.

  Reach was busy trying to think. ‘If she isn’t a Beadle, and she’s not a Muddle, then she must be a … Myrmidot…’ Her voice trailed off. ‘But why would a Myrmidot want to destroy Beadledom?’

  ‘That part is still a mystery, Reach,’ replied Grunge. ‘I’ve never heard of a Myrmidot hurting anyone.’

  Bligh shook his head. ‘Nor have I. And I can’t think of any reason why one would want to now.’

  ‘Maybe that’s the real reason why they wouldn’t send help,’ said Brian. ‘Maybe they’ve known all along.’

  ‘Just because one Myrmidot may be causing mischief, Brian, it doesn’t follow that they all mean us harm. It won’t do to blame them until we know what’s behind this.’

  Grunge noticed that Crimson was looking uncomfortable. She wasn’t acting like Crimson at all.

  ‘It might be time to go see them officially,’ decided Bligh. ‘Tell them what we know and see what they have to say.’

  ‘Why not leave it a day or two?’ suggested Grunge. ‘We have a good idea where she’ll strike next – if she returns – and we might have another chance to catch her.’

  ‘I agree,’ said Bell.

  ‘Perhaps you’re right,’ said Bligh, a bit absent-mindedly. He looked down at his desk and then took a deep breath.

  ‘We do have another problem,’ he finally announced. The others looked at him expectantly. ‘It’s the townsfolk. They … some, anyway … well, they …’

  Whatever was on his mind was hard for him to say. He took a deep breath and spoke to the Muddles.

  ‘There are quite a few who believe that we should ask you to return to Home. What happened last night has spread throughout the town and many believe our troubles would be over now if we had not relied on the Muddles.’ Again, Bligh hesitated, then pushed on. ‘And they have heard what happened to Crimson at Farrow’s farm. There is a great deal of unease about a fire officer who … acted like that.’

  It was Bell who leapt to Crimson’s defence.

  ‘If it wasn’t for the Muddles, Farrow’s barn would be gone. They saved the farm. This isn’t fair, Bligh.’

  ‘I know, Bell. I agree with you. But there is another matter and this has caused the most disquiet.’ He looked straight at Crimson. ‘Some of the patrol heard the person speak to you. No one heard what was said, but now many believe that maybe it wasn’t coincidence that the fire-starter got away. And because you didn’t mention that she spoke to you, people have drawn their own conclusions.’

  One after another, they looked at Crimson. For the first time in her life, she felt ashamed and a little frightened. She could feel them looking at her expectantly. It was Grunge who broke the silence.

  ‘I’m sure that if what was said was important, Crimson would have said something,’ he said. ‘Maybe Crimson didn’t hear what was said, or wasn’t sure she’d heard anything at all.’

  Crimson smiled gratefully at him. ‘Thank you, Grunge, but Bligh is right. I should have said something. I was just too frightened by what her words might mean. It was wrong not to tell you all right away.’ For some reason, Crimson felt her courage returning now that it was out in the open.

  Reach spoke gently. ‘What did she say, Crimson?’

  Crimson repeated the words – “Sister. Sisters yet.”

  Grunge was puzzled. ‘Sister? What does that mean? She can’t be your sister! She’s not even a Muddle!’

  ‘I know that now,’ said Crimson. ‘But last night I was afraid that it might be true, and what that meant. I don’t know how it could be, but it did frighten me. Even knowing she isn’t a Muddle, remembering the sound of her voice gives me chills. She meant something by those words. It was so deliberate. I wish I could figure it out!’

  Bligh sighed. ‘Explaining all this is just going to make it worse, I fea
r.’ He looked at the Muddles. ‘I’m very sorry, but I have to decide what’s best for everyone. I shall think on it today. Maybe it might be best for you to return to Home.’

  ‘Maybe by this evening when the people have had time to think, they’ll realise that they’re wrong. I … I don’t believe that Crimson and the others should leave. I think you should give it a day and a night and then decide tomorrow morning.’ Brian surprised everyone by his words. A Factotum knows his place and giving the High Councillor advice is definitely stepping out of line. Particularly for a Factotum who doesn’t really like Muddles.

  Bell supported Brian’s words, giving the young Factotum a kindly smile. ‘In any case, if there isn’t a fire tonight, we might reasonably assume that we have frightened the woman off. Patrol as usual tonight and decide in the morning.’

  Bligh addressed the Muddles. ‘I’m happy with that. Unless we’ve offended you, and you wish to leave?’

  Grunge knew he didn’t need to ask the other two Muddles. ‘It’s a good idea. We’ll stay and see what tonight and tomorrow bring.’ He gave Brian a smile. The one that Brian returned resembled a grimace more than a smile.

  Not wishing to presume on his hospitality, they had politely refused Bligh’s offer of a mid-morning coffee. Bell had walked back to the fire station with the Muddles. He had said that he needed to discuss the night’s patrols but he seemed to have something else on his mind. He made them coffee and they sat around the mess table. Finally, he gathered the courage to say what was on his mind. He spoke hesitantly.

  ‘Forgive me for asking, but, well, it’s just that we don’t know much about what happens when this … Mix … happens. But, how long does it last? When do you get un-mixed?’

  ‘It doesn’t last long, Bell,’ answered Grunge. ‘Sometimes a couple of hours, usually longer, but never more than half a day.’

  ‘I see. Thank you,’ said Bell. He pondered for a moment. ‘Then soon …?’

  Grunge shrugged. ‘Soon.’

  ‘Does it worry you that others … outsiders, I mean … well, that they … see …’