by Lorelei Bell
“Tillie!” Zofia eyed it. She had put a concealment charm on the cake. Only they could see it.
“Dig in … here, I even brought forks.” She handed Zofia a pink plastic fork.
Zofia grabbed the fork and stabbed it into the fluffy white confection and cut away a large bite of chocolate cake. Fitting her mouth around it, she closed her eyes and moaned. She'd never known the taste of chocolate until she'd lived on First World. Here, only the very richest could afford it. On First World, it was everywhere, and she had become a certified chocoholic. How was she going to get used to not having chocolate here? They both sat and ate halfway across the cake before they both felt satisfied.
“Mom!”
Zofia jumped, finding Blanche had appeared right beside them. The fork in her hand went flying into the air, as well as the bit of cake on it. She heard the fork land with a plastic sound somewhere on the brick flooring, but she was too frightened to look, for fear of reprisal, or a nasty hex, if anyone realized she had been behind the flying fork—a plastic one at that!
“Blanche!” Zofia blurted. “I told you not to do that.”
“Sorry, but this was an emergency,” Blanche said.
“You're Evanishing very well, otherwise, child,” Tillie said.
“Hi, Aunt Tillie—” she stopped and eyed her half-devoured cake. “Hey, isn't that my birthday cake?”
“No. It merely looks like it,” Zofia said sarcastically.
“It was going to go to waste, anyway,” Tillie said. “I decided to bring it along.”
“Happy sixteenth birthday! Dig in,” Zofia said, and lifted a large hunk of cake that had fallen away from the masterpiece and pushed it toward her daughter's face, half thinking that smearing her with it would be funny. But she resisted the urge.
Blanche eyed the hunk of cake in Zofia's hands, and then her gaze lifted to meet Zofia's eyes. “Thanks,” Blanche said, surprising the hell out of Zofia who was prepared for a new tirade. Instead she took a huge bite while Zofia still palmed it. Moist crumbs of chocolate cake dropped onto the table, and white frosting clung to her mouth and face. A pink tongue licked it off, then using her fingers like scraping tools she finished cleaning herself of icing.
“What is this place anyway?” Blanche asked while she looked around at the other people and went into a hover-sit like everyone else. Thank wizards she wore one of the dresses she was given, or she would have attracted a whole lot of attention with the outfit she'd had on when they'd arrived. It was a mottled light yellow dress with a scoop neck, gathered at the waist with a slim leather belt. The arms were done in black netting, and it somehow fit her personality.
“Why are you here?” Zofia asked. “You're supposed to be watching Elton.”
“I know. That's why I'm here,” she said sounding bored. “He slipped out of his room when I went to use the—you know—anyway, I can't find him anywhere.”
“You mean he's off walking about in the castle all by himself?” Tillie asked, concern in her voice.
“I guess,” Blanche said, shrugging while licking cake and icing off her fingers. She looked into Zofia's mug, and Tillie's glass. “What are you guys drinking? Can I have what Aunt Tillie's got?”
“No,” Zofia said. “Elton might be lost. We'd better go find him.”
“Wait,” Tillie said, pulling out her scrying spoon from a large carpetbag. “I can find him quicker this way.” She held up her scrying spoon and looked into it. “Show me where Eltony is.” Eltony was his real name. Elton was what he'd gone by on First World. It would take a while before Zofia would get used to calling him that.
Blanche and Zofia peered over her shoulder at the huge bowl of the silver spoon, but only Tillie could see what it revealed.
“It looks like he's in a library.” She looked up at Zofia. “D'you know where the library is?”
Zofia's shoulders lifted. “Beats me.”
“All the years you spent here as a child, and you didn't even once go into the library?”
“We weren't allowed,” Zofia said with another shrug.
“Let's go see if we can find him,” Tillie said, shoving the spoon back into her bag. “The library would have to be in one of the towers, I would imagine.”
“Well, let's go, then,” Zofia said, blowing out the remaining candles on the cake. “What do we do with this?” She pointed to the rest of the cake.
“I'll get it,” Tillie said, opening up her carpet bag, then pointed to the left over cake, and magicked it into the bag. They Transvected out of the tavern, passing three wizards in official Knight robes who'd just Evanished on the stoop. They were laughing joyously as they burst through the double doors of the inn.
“Drinks for everyone! Blood is dead! Xilomorah too! It's official!” one of them shouted.
Inside a cheer rang out just as Zofia, Blanche and Tillie made it to the cobblestone pathway. Zofia barely took note of it, but realized that the news of Blood's and Xilomorah's deaths would soon spread everywhere now.
They landed next to the tavern and paused to view the castle from the great distance. “That's a long way to Transvect,” she observed. “I came in the Sorcerer's Tree, but we can't use it to go into the castle. Might over-shoot it.”
Zofia eyed the many brooms leaning up against the building. “We can take the communal brooms. It'll be much faster than Transvecting.”
“You guys can use those nasty old things,” Blanche said. “I'm going to Evanish back.” And she was gone in an instant.
“Must be nice,” Zofia said wistfully as she grabbed two brooms and handed one to Tillie.
Tillie took the broom from her. “Wish I would've given her my bag. It's so heavy.” She floated the bag onto the end of the broom, which now hovered two feet off the ground waiting.
“We'll be fine,” Zofia said as she mounted her broom. Tillie mounted hers, and they both kicked off the ground and soon were flying over trees and roofs of homes, toward the castle. People below walked along without even looking up. Other wizards or sorceresses rode brooms, or flying carpets, too. The sky seemed crowded this evening. It had to be because of the Feast, Zofia figured.
When they neared the castle, they pulled to a halt.
“There's so many towers, how do we find the library?” Zofia asked, holding the broom handle just a little too tightly, and her hand began to ache, so she loosened her grip. A breeze blew her hair and a wayward strand slipped across her eyes and she had to swipe it away.
Tillie studied the towers and finally said, “We'll take a lucky guess. Come on.” She urged her broom on. Her black cloak flapped wickedly, and her white hair whipped like smoke behind her head.
There were four large towers, all were topped with conical roofs, and the smaller ones were flat-roofed with meager crenelations. From this vantage point, Zofia could better appreciate the breath-taking construction. Even though this castle was not a military stronghold—as it need not be because of the magic which surrounded it—it had the indented parapet at the top of the castle wall. Stationed along the crenelated walls, on top of the merlons, resided gargoyles, which Zofia had mistakenly thought were made of stone. But now that she came much closer, she could see that the creatures moved their heads and eyes—each and every one of them were keeping an eye on them.
“Tillie, do you see the gargoyles?” Zofia shouted.
Tillie hadn't noticed, but now gazed down at them. “I do now.”
“They don't look friendly,” Zofia observed.
“No, they don't,” Tillie said. “Let's go lower, on the wall, over there.” She pointed to the space of wall where there were no gargoyles standing guard.
They circled the first tower, and then the second and made a loop to swoop back and land on the crenelated wall. As they did, several wizarding families on carpets rode toward the front gates, were admitted and disappeared within.
Tillie opened up her bag and pulled out her scrying spoon. She squinted at what she saw in the spoon. “I think…” she looked up a
t a lone medium height tower. “Yes. The east tower, there.” She pointed.
Zofia gazed across at it. It had very large windows. All but one window was dark. The lit window did reveal a nice warm glow… and from what Zofia could tell from that distance, rows of books.
“Let's go,” Tillie said. Tossing her scrying spoon back into her bag, she pulled up on the handle of the broom, and flew toward the east tower.
Zofia followed, flying right behind Tillie toward a tall, pointed-arched window. The window glass stood open, and inside Elton sat in a very large, brown leather wing-backed chair, reading. Bookcases were floor to ceiling, with wooden stairs and catwalks throughout, going up and up. Gathered around Elton stood several bleating, black and brown sheep with very odd looking faces, and pointed ears that stood up. The strangest sheep Zofia had ever seen.
Zofia and Tillie landed on the other side of a long table, away from the small herd of sheep, and directly across from Elton.
Confused, Zofia said, “Are you alright, Elton?”
Elton looked up from his book with a surprised look upon his face. “What are you guys doing here? I suppose Blanche ratted on me? Hi, Aunt Tillie.”
“Hi,” Tillie said on a puff of air. “Wizard's sakes, boy, you put us through a troll's wringer.”
“Tillie!” Zofia blurted, astonished she would use such language in front of Elton.
Elton chuckled.
“Any way, what happened?” Zofia asked. “Tillie saw you in her Scrying Spoon, in this library.”
“And where did these sheep come from?” Tillie asked, holding her glasses up off her nose as she bent down to one. “Wizard's sakes, what are these things?”
“The sheep?” Elton said, giving a wave of his hand. “They're the Monks.”
“Monks? What do you mean? What happened?” Zofia asked, gazing down at the seven or eight sheep. They all bleated as if confused themselves.
Just at that moment, Dorian burst into the room. The anxious look on his face changed to confusion at the sight of everyone—including the sheep.
“What in blazes… what happened here? What are all these sheep doing in the library?” Dorian asked, his gaze going up to meet Zofia's.
“We were just getting to that,” Zofia said. “Go on, Elton, how did you get here, and what happened?”
“I just wanted to see more of the castle,” Elton said.
“You should've waited,” Dorian said exasperated. “One of us could have taken you around—”
“I was bored! No TV, no music to play!” Elton said. “Nothing to do but look at four walls, so I ditched Blanche. I walked around and eventually came in here. I've found the largest library I've ever seen!” He gestured toward their surroundings of wall-to-wall books that went up three or four stories.
“But what about the sheep?” Dorian said.
“I was just getting to that part,” Elton said, and leaned forward. “I came in here and then those goofy-looking Monks came in and said they wanted to play a game with me.”
Zofia and Dorian exchanged dark, knowing looks.
“What sort of game?” Dorian asked hesitantly.
“Whatever it was, I didn't like it. They got a little too touchy with me,” Elton explained.
“So, what happened?” Zofia asked, almost afraid to know. The sheep did look very strange in the faces. One looked up at her. He appeared to be frowning at her. She stepped away from it, just in case.
“I remembered a spell out of one of Tillie's Grimoires,” Elton said with a smile. “I just turned them into sheep—er, sort of sheep-things. Anyway, they didn't bother me any more so I could at least read in peace.”
Zofia turned to glare at Tillie. “You let him read your Grimoires?”
“Oops,” Tillie clasped both hands over her mouth.
“Bravo, son! An excellent hex,” Dorian said. “Turn your enemies into harmless sheep.”
“Well, I think they should all be dismissed!” Zofia said angrily.
“I think they should be sheered,” Dorian said under his breath, wrinkling his nose at their stink.
“Very quick thinking to have remembered such a complicated spell and then perform it so well,” the new voice made everyone turn to see Paradeep in the open doorway, draped in a gold robe and a gold over-tunic, his hands clasped before himself looking his usual serene self.
“Paradeep!” Zofia blurted. How long had he been standing there listening?
“Yes,” Paradeep said in a breezy tone, his kind eyes blinking at them all. “Ottillie, I will ask that you turn in your Grimoires as soon as you have made the move from First World to Euphoria.”
Long enough.
“Y-yes, of course, my Lord,” Tillie said with a bow of the head.
“But, what are we going to do about—all the sheep?” Zofia asked, gesturing at the sheep. One had actually climbed on to the table and was munching the corner of a sheet of parchment. Zofia, fearing that it was important, tore the piece of parchment from its mouth.
“Not to worry, I will change them all back,” Paradeep said. “In the meantime, it would be good if you all would leave—”
“That is an excellent suggestion,” a new voice, crisp with anger and irritation, made everyone turn again toward the doorway. A very squat man with a large bald head, a beak of a nose and heavy glasses stared incredulously at them. Although he had pointy ears, he was not a Wadmund Monk. Standing no taller than three feet, he looked to be a dwarf of some kind—possibly a mix of dwarf and elf—Zofia reasoned, as she watched him waddle into the room. He stood no higher than the tall stools along a long table.
“Very sorry about all this, Smaganus,” Paradeep said to him apologetically.
The dwarf cranked his neck way back to look up. “Immortal Paradeep? I didn't see you, my Lord.” He bowed deeply—which for him wasn't very far, as his forehead nearly touched the floor. Straightening, he frowned as the sound of one bleating sheep tugged his gaze. “What are all these sheep doing here?” He screamed in a horrible crackle and chugged forward, toward the table where the one sheep now stood. Hands waving, he shouted, “Get off there, you! Off! Away—” and then he murmured something, and the sheep disappeared from the table and reappeared on the floor. Smaganus spun around so quickly, Zofia thought the dwarf had used magic to do so. Yep, probably fifty percent elf. “Everyone out! OUT!” he shouted, making a shooing motion with his hands above his head. “Before I do something I might regret later!”
“Yes. Everyone, out we go so that the man can get back to work.” Paradeep shunted everyone out, including the sheep.
Zofia turned to watch Paradeep close the heavy doors with a decisive click.
“He's not very friendly, is he?” she said to Paradeep.
“He is—eh—over worked, you might say,” Paradeep answered with one of his benign smiles.
She squeezed her eyes at him. “Who was that, anyway?”
“Smaganus Aspergillam, translator of one of the—“
“—greatest oracles of our time!” Zofia gushed, sudden realization coming to her.
Tillie blinked at her. “He's who?”
“He's translator of the Oracle of Zamora,” Zofia said almost mind-boggled that she'd just met someone who was that close to the Oracle.
“I didn't know he was a dwarf,” Tillie said, finger tapping against her chin, while looking somewhat disappointed.
Zofia turned to say something to Dorian, but he was already disappearing down the hallway. Sheep were congregating around Paradeep, bleating as if pleading with him to change them all back.
Zofia gave a deep sigh. “There goes Dorian. I thought I'd be able to speak with him.”
Tillie came up beside her. “Never mind. All this flying about—I'm famished. Isn't it about mid-meal?”
“Yes, if you hurry, you'll be just in time for the luncheon,” Paradeep said to Tillie. He turned to Zofia. “And you, my child, have an appointment, I believe—”
Just then, from somewhere, a deep bonging
came, and it chimed out the hour of eleven.
“Be sure to not be late, Zofia,” Paradeep said as he quickly strode off, the sheep—Monks
all following him with eager bahhing.
Chapter 5
North tower was the tallest tower in the castle. Stone steps wound up and out of sight. Candle sconces every few feet lit her way as Zofia Transvected up the stairs. She didn't know how far up Stephen's office was. Possibly it was at the very top of the tower, which only made sense, as it would give him a commanding view of the entire castle, village, as well as the valley and the ridge of snow-capped mountains just beyond.
As Zofia continued all the way to the very top, she thought about what Tillie had told her just before they'd parted.
“Whatever this meeting is about,” Tillie had said, “just be careful. I've heard stories about his taking women to his private rooms and seducing them.”
Tillie's warning had not been necessary. She'd heard the same stories. But she really feared this meeting was of a more serious nature.
The stairs came to an abrupt end at the very top floor as she'd figured—and a good thing she had the ability to Transvect, it would have taken her the rest of the day to climb them all.
She stood before a great, heavy wooden door recessed slightly. A single candle sconce lit this nook just enough for her to make out the etched plaque of gold which read: STEPHEN RESTORMELL / HEAD COMMANDER / KNIGHTS OF THE WITENAGEMONT. Above the plaque was a gold skull, the jaws wide open with a knocker arced down through the mouth, somewhat like the bit of a bridle on a horse.
Chilled by the cold, damp air of the castle, Zofia touched down onto the stone floor. Her stomach did a cartwheel unexpectedly as she stepped closer. It was one thing to be in Stephen's presence in a normal setting—with everyone around him. To be sent to his special office like this—well, she didn't want to believe he had ordered her here simply to seduce her. He could do that anywhere in the castle, since it was his. She could only guess that he had learned about the demon, and this was going to be it. Maybe she should have told Tillie, Elton and Blanche goodbye. Maybe she should have thought of the consequences of what she had done. Maybe she should have taken a quick Sorcerer's Tree back to First World.