While I peered over the edge of the ramp at all this, Tumbledown explained verbally. “The water sprites cast a glamour over the young beavers. They’ll do anything to see each other, even chew up their own dam. The beavers spend all their time bringing in wood and making repairs. They hardly have any time to build homes for themselves.”
Tinkling and the clap of metal feet on wood informed me that Brenda had walked up behind us, even before she spoke. “Did you know, the Great Flubbo Dam conflict is the third greatest subject of tinker analysis, measured by tinker hours of contemplation? It’s true. An attempted resolution of encouraging beavers to meet water sprites on the shoreline led to widescale abandonment of the dam project, and a catastrophic drought.”
A drought? Sandy, Tumbledown, and I all looked over the edge of the ramp at the same time. A great deal of water poured out through those leaks, enough to form a mighty river at the bottom of the cliff. Tumbledown said it out loud. “I guess all that water had to go somewhere.”
Sandy bobbed above me, and her hand grabbed up a fistful of my dress, hauling me up into the air. She immediately tucked me into her elbow again, lowering her face to mine and whispering, “Are you sure I can do this?”
“Of course. There is not a doubt in my mind. I am absolutely certain. You’ve proven it already.” There. If that wasn’t clear, I didn’t know what I could say!
It must have worked. She stepped past Tumbledown and climbed briskly up the ladder, with one hand occupied holding me, no less. As she climbed, a thought occurred to me, and I relayed it to Sandy. “Your miracle needs to make room for wood gathering. If the beavers stop taking Jack’s lumber away, I don’t know what will happen. The pile might crush his house!”
“You’re not making this easier!” Sandy complained, although with a dramatic flair that suggested she did not actually resent my advice.
“You can do it. Remember that,” I assured her. I wasn’t sure she heard, because the roar of water as we passed Chippy’s leak drowned out my voice.
We reached the walkway along the top of the dam, and oh, my, what a view! The lake stretched out on one side of us, perfectly blue and sparkling like crystal, broken only by the occasional splash of a water sprite leaping into the surface and falling back again. On the other side, we looked right over the cliff and out over a huge green expanse of Here. I thought I could even see the capitol in the distance. I certainly could see how the river below the dam flowed into a rambling swamp, and then out in streams snaking out across Here. With the blue sky overhead, and the smell of mist in the air, it was a shame we had business ahead of us.
We did have business, however. Sandy walked down the top of the dam toward Chippy. The soggy young beaver might have escaped the watch-dargon, but not a bigger, older beaver with a worn pelt that showed a lot of resewing. I didn’t speak beaver, but the big beaver was clearly giving Chippy a severe scolding, punctuated by slaps of his flat beaver tail on the wooden planks.
It wasn’t working. Oh, Chippy hunched down in a display of fear and shame, but the streaked black marbles of his eyes glared rather than reflected. The authority of the older beaver’s lecture completely shattered when a water sprite reared up out of the lake below the dam, and waved at him. The senior beaver’s chattering slowed, stopped, and he gave her a long, wistful smile. Aw-w-w.
That caught Sandy’s attention. She stopped, watching until the senior beaver pulled himself away and falteringly tried to resume his lecture. Sighing loudly, she stepped up behind Chippy and I experienced a moment of vertigo as she dropped suddenly to sit cross-legged next to the beavers.
She plunked me in her lap, folding her arms loosely around my middle. She sounded quite wistful herself as she told them, “I’ve been asked to fix this, but the only problem I see is that you’re not allowed to fall in love. That girl—how long have you known her?”
Sandy had addressed the older beaver, and he tucked his head down, suddenly embarrassed. He answered with a few short, muffled squeaks.
Sandy pressed the point. “All your life, right? She’s special.”
He nodded.
Above me, Sandy smiled, but only on one side. It was like she was so sad that it made her happy. Oh, yes, the word was “bittersweet”. “The sprites aren’t using magic. You just love each other. That’s what I think, and—do you know what a sluice is?”
I knew that word. I almost knew that word. I didn’t know that word, but my glasses made me feel like I should. The beavers didn’t know at all, and stared at Sandy blankly while she defined it. “You build a window in the dam, with bars to keep it sturdy and so only so much water comes out. The water keeps flowing, and you can visit your water sprites when you’re on break, or whatever. Just in case too much water gets out, you build a hatch you can close over the gate.”
As Sandy talked, another beaver climbed up over the side of the dam to hear what the human hero was saying, and two more trotted down the walkway carrying a log between them. They all looked at each other. They kept turning their heads suddenly to look another beaver in the eyes, and make quick chattering comments. I thought they liked the idea.
“What about the wood?” I asked, imagining a giant, teetering pile of lumber swaying over Jack’s lodge.
“The beavers will have a lot more building time. They can build fancy towers next to the dam to live in,” she answered.
The beavers definitely liked that idea. Now they were nodding a lot, and two more beavers showed up to be chattered at.
Brenda had apparently arrived during the conversation, and was less convinced. I heard her singsong voice behind Sandy protesting, “An epidemic of collapsing towers is anticipated in the near future, due to the natural beaver trait of obsessive building upgrades.”
Sandy nodded sharply. “Good. Then they’ll never get bored, they’ll always need more wood, the water will keep flowing, nobody will have to feel guilty about falling in love, and tinkers will still need to visit the dam to sew up injured beavers.” Oh my, that was a good one. I hadn’t even thought of that!
Brenda still wasn’t satisfied. “Error. Miracle incomplete. Structural collapse will reduce whole logs to shorter pieces unsuitable to beaver construction. Waste buildup will threaten project.”
Sandy stood up just as suddenly as she sat down, clasping me to her stomach. She turned around to face Brenda and an awed, goggle-eyed Tumbledown. “Not suitable for beavers, maybe.” Looking around, she asked, “Is there one of those messenger birds around?”
“Messenger bird service is available to all passengers upon request,” Brenda answered, which I was pretty sure meant “yes”. Sticking her leg out that ended in a funny clawed thing, Brenda swiveled all the way around on her shovel leg and marched back down the walkway to Harrison.
Sandy followed, and Tumbledown followed her, and when we all reached Harrison the lid of Harrison’s boxy back half popped open.
I had never seen so many toolboxes in my life. Didn’t Brenda have enough tools actually attached to her arms?
Brenda reached out to one particular toolbox smaller than the rest, and unlocked it. Opened up, the box was just big enough to hold the messenger bird and its cycle that had been squeezed inside.
“You keep one locked up?” Sandy asked, shocked.
“She keeps me locked up!” the bird squawked.
Brenda pried the round copper cycle out of the box and handed it to Sandy. With no trace of guilt, she said, “Our contract exchanged a complete vehicle rebuild and location of a new message to take for constant availability until that message arrived.”
Outwitted on a technicality, the pigeon crossed its wings over its chest and sulked. “I didn’t know it would take so long.”
Sandy held the globe up in both hands, and told its occupant, “You’re free now. I have a message for you to take.”
“Eee! Yes! Yes! And for a human, too!” The pigeon kicked its little legs in glee, and then sat up higher in its seat. “Who do I tell what, Your Highness?”
>
Clinging to Sandy’s arm, I whispered up to the messenger, “She’s a hero, not a princess.”
“Same thing,” the pigeon insisted.
Solemnly, slowly, and carefully, Sandy told him, “I want you to deliver a message to the Greater House Cuckoos over There. No. Deliver it to the Lesser House Cuckoos instead. Tell them that there are about to be a lot of broken logs they can steal for building parts at the Great Flubbo Dam.”
“Right away, your Highness! Can you, uh…” The pigeon jerked his head toward the ground.
I had to hold on really tight with both arms and my legs as Sandy bent down to place the messenger cycle on the road. She couldn’t really do it and keep a good grip on me herself. When the cycle rolled out of her hands onto the bricks, the seat inside rocked until it settled perfectly upright again. The messenger bird gave Sandy a salute with one wing, and then started pedaling so hard that the cycle zoomed off down the road toward Cul-De-Sac.
“Miracle concluded. A presentation will be offered on return to dispatch comparing the power of miracles to royal decrees, complete with projections of future accomplishment, with coffee and donuts provided. Please board for immediate departure,” Brenda announced. She certainly wasted no time, climbing back into her position on the front end of Harrison, folding her legs and propping her chin on one hand.
I, on the other hand, had spotted one more loose thread in this miracle. I thumped Sandy’s wrist a couple of times to get her attention. When she lifted me up, I pointed down at the solemnly watching Tumbledown. “Miss Sandy, with fraternization—” Ooh, that was a good word, “—no longer forbidden, the beavers don’t need a watch-dargon anymore. I think he needs a miracle.”
The whole idea made Tumbledown stand up at attention, his eyes almost as round as his body. Taking off his cap, he held it respectfully against his chest in both hands and asked in a hush, “Can you make me into a real dragon? Can you make me scary?”
Oh, my. Had I overdone it? Sandy’s open-mouthed stare made it clear that she hadn’t anticipated this, and didn’t know what to do. When she smiled in sudden relief, so did I! Holding out her hand to Tumbledown, she told him, “Not yet, but I bet if you come with me, we’ll figure out something.”
Tumbledown’s wings flapped so fast they buzzed, and the end of his tail wagged. “Yes! Yes-yes-yes-yes!”
Laughing, Sandy helped him climb over the side of Harrison and into the back seat. She dropped me into the food basket, and jumped over it into her own seat. Harrison’s feet immediately unfolded, and we began trotting down the ramp, underneath the spray Chippy had opened up. Even now, a couple of beavers had wedged planks in to make a temporary platform, and were comparing bits of wood to plug the hole.
Sandy looked up at them, then ahead at Brenda, then back over her seat at Tumbledown, who was peering over the side of Harrison at the wheels. Shrinking down in her seat, Sandy snatched me out of the basket and squeezed me in both arms against her chest.
“You were right!” she whispered to me. “I can do it. I can really be a hero!”
Chapter Seven
Boing! Boing! Boing!
Tumbles had a wonderfully springy stomach, and I bounced up and down with gleeful abandon. The world, already rushing by thanks to Harrison’s furiously pedaling legs, spun and shook. My legs, while soft, were quite strong enough to allow me to jump, but Sandy’s glasses weighed down my already overlarge head and rendered me top-heavy. I spent as much time flopping and whirling in midair as jumping deliberately.
Had I ever had so much fun? Not that I could recall, certainly! So much fun that Sandy was laughing just watching me. It was a shame that she was too big to enjoy Tumbledown’s bounciness, so thank goodness I could bounce for both of us!
The front seats and a baglike structure behind the back seats formed enough of a wind break that the breeze merely added to my enjoyable dizziness. I did not notice we’d stopped until I flew through the gap between the seats and Sandy caught me in her sheltering hands.
Whew! Where were we? Why did we stop? Which way was up?
Those all sounded like questions I would enjoy answers to, so I asked them out loud. “Where are we? Why did we stop? Which way is—oh, I believe up is this way.”
Vertigo does not last forever, you see.
“Rar. Rar…” growled Tumbles, now face-down, without waking up.
I stood up in Sandy’s hands, and looked around. The same road still wound through the same shallow swamp, where water that didn’t even come up to my waist sparkled in a thousand pools edged in unkempt grass. Tall, reedy paper plants stood with heads lifted, soaking up the sun. Some ambled along on short roots, tending the others.
It was all certainly beautiful, but paper grows slowly and we’d been driving along at least an hour through these unchanging swamps. Was there any mystery that Tumbles fell asleep and I needed a bit of play? No, that made perfect sense.
The most pertinent question now was why we were no longer moving, particularly when the Library Tree was well within sight now.
Brenda jumped off of Harrison’s front end, landing on the road with a rattle of metal. She met Sandy’s and my stares with the declaration, “Please enjoy this refreshing rest stop. The vehicle will depart as soon as history has finished loading.”
Sandy fastened her hand around my arm, and climbed out of Harrison to follow Brenda. I shared her curiosity, and pedaled my feet as I dangled by her side. Forget picking me up properly, go faster!
Sandy’s shoes squished in the shallow marsh. Ahead of us, Brenda stopped to pull a dangling page down to inspect, only to let it go again and keep walking.
We followed. Sandy paused at the same plant, inspecting the page. To my great delight, this involved lifting both hands to hold the paper. Since I was hanging from one of those hands I could catch hold of her wrist with an arm and a leg and pull myself up to read it, too!
I caught the words “With her new name, Belle Tower retreated into the thorn trees, casting spell after spell to create” before Sandy jumped back, splashing water all the way up to me and grabbing me in both hands.
“I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to forget you like that, Heartfelt. It was so strange, I… forgot you.”
Giving her hand a pat, I assured Sandy, “Well, anyone would. Look! Look over there!”
As I pointed, Sandy splashed some more, getting out of the way. An older paper plant, its body showing rings of brown bark, waded through the pool up to where we’d just stood. Instead of paper budding all around its stalk, this plant had a leathery brown cover hanging from the very tip, with half a dozen pages stuck inside.
I nodded emphatically at the perfect sensibility. Books, after all, were a marker of wisdom and maturity.
The book-bearing plant leaned over to nibble at the page we’d just abandoned, and after several seconds of that took firm hold, tore, and gulped until the new page fit into its book like the others. The younger plant didn’t respond. Perhaps the damage didn’t hurt? Or it was too happy that its pages were useful to mind?
Curling me up in one arm, Sandy reached nervously out to the dangling book, and held it still with her other hand. We both craned forward to read the title.
“Geographical Changes Over There, From Isabelle to Charity-Sandy.” My hands absolutely itched to read such a useful book, but with so few pages, I was out of luck. There wouldn’t be much to learn, and it would be terribly unfair to harvest such unripe information.
Scratching my hands did not relieve the itching. That was hardly a surprise. Not only had I not addressed the underlying curiosity, my soft body and smooth cloth covering were close to the worst possible design for scratching. Only a girl made of marshmallow would be less effective.
Were there girls made of marshmallow? Sandy could bring the dead to life, so she could certainly make one. Where would we get that much marshmallow? What kind of life could a girl made of marshmallow lead? She would have to live over Here. Over There, someone would eat her. She would need gentl
e, dry surroundings, certainly.
At this point in my speculations, Brenda said, “Remain motionless. Your history imaging associate will be finished momentarily.”
I remained motionless, flopped over Sandy’s arm. The bottom half of Brenda’s mismatched metal body stepped up next to Sandy. Presumably, so did her top half, but I couldn’t see very well from this position. That, and a tiny pebbled path between pools, flanked by little stone boxes, was all I could see. Well, and a lot of water and some grass.
Beneath me, words bloomed on a growing page while I watched.
* * *
Regally, she stalked back and forth in front of the throne. “I thought I was alone.”
Her miniature adviser smirked. “It doesn’t matter. There can’t be two princesses, right?”
Princess Elizabeth reached up to touch her crown, and her mouth set in a tight, determined frown. “I’ll make sure of that.”
She held out her hand to the guard carrying—
A sharp foomph sound burst above me, and Brenda stepped away. I concluded that this meant we could move again, and looked up to see her plucking a page off of a particularly tall, leafy paper plant. The page had a lovely picture of Sandy’s face, all curvy lines to mimic shadows.
“Um,” stammered Sandy, “But what would you need a picture of me for?”
“A brief summary of Mysterious Heroine Sandy’s first miracles will be made available to the Library Tree shortly. We do not have a release date for the next edition at this time,” answered Brenda.
During all this, I tapped on Sandy’s hand, and then pointed down at the path. She crouched down far enough for me to drop off safely onto my feet, then went back to her conversation.
“How do you find the pages that are about me?”
Listening to gossip had been my whole life up until now. More than once the shriveners mentioned the stone boxes, open on all sides, that marked the path to the Memorial.
There was something I had to do. I followed the path, winding between pools, until it ended at a ring of small trees. They separated a circle of dirt and pebbles from the swamp all around.
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