A Rag Doll's Guide to Here and There

by Richard Roberts

  It was time. I climbed up onto the stool, and opened the solid cover of the heavy tome in front of me. No light shone from the pages, illuminating me with knowledge and purpose.

  But oh my, that was certainly what it felt like!

  Inside, the book was a disorganized mess. Scraps of paper had been stitched or glued onto the regular pages, or fastened between them. Every page had a picture, or a note, some of them hand printed or drawn, others… well, they came in all varieties.

  The first to catch my eye had a picture of a very familiar lake and dam. It was a page from a regular history book that had been glued over one of the journal pages.

  The Great Flubbo Lake is one of the oldest natural formations Here. Strictly speaking, there is no lake, only the Great Flubbo itself, the great water elemental summoned from the depths of the world by Maitreyi the Whisperer before she separated Here from There. It has been moved three times, most recently by Serena the Silver Sorceress, to counter Warlord Cedric’s Steam Powered Dragon. As a result—

  Oh, my. This was wonderful! Perfect! With this, I would know the things that I could then think about to help Sandy do… anything!

  Closing the cover, I took a deep breath to momentarily savor the momentous moment. Then I tucked the book under my arm, and hopped off the footstool. The book was rather large, but I could handle it.

  “May I borrow this, please? Sandy and I will need it on our adventure. I don’t know what your lending rules are for special collection items, but I’m certain there must be a special human exemption,” I said to Mark.

  He stared at me for a moment as all of that sunk in, then gave a firm nod. His head was very, very round. Spherical, even! “Yes. Yes, that must be true. I’ll let the Head Archivist know.”

  “Thank you, Sir!” I curtseyed, a bit awkwardly thanks to the book, and hopped down the stairs toward the entrance hall. I had to find Sandy and show her what a great guide I was going to be!

  I was in such a hurry that I did not quite grasp that the shiny gold figure on the final landing before the entrance was standing in place, not climbing like everyone else. In the eagerness of my jumps, I nearly plowed into her, and only avoided doing so by throwing myself to the side, and rolling to the edge of the steps with my body wrapped around my book!

  The clothling yanked her trailing golden cape away from my feet, and complained, “Hey! You are the second clumsiest clothling I’ve ever… no. I take that back. You are the clumsiest clothling I’ve ever met.” Despite the increasing venom of the words themselves, her tone became distinctly less acrid toward the end.

  I picked myself back up, making sure the book was undamaged. The cover, stained and battered, appeared almost indestructibly sturdy. It had been through many adventures already. Excellent!

  As for the person I owed a very serious apology to and instead had been standing here ignoring, she stared at me not so much with patience but open-mouthed disbelief. For a purely cloth clothling she had an impressively well-constructed face, with a little bump nose, and an openable pink mouth, and her dress had a red layer, a purple layer, and a white layer, all separate items, like a bundlish’s clothing!

  They were all held on by needles and sewing pins, stuck into her in all directions. I had to struggle with the urge to tell her how ghastly and painful that looked, which would just be rude. She was covered with them! They also held on her baggy gold cape, hood, and scarf, which were all one piece, like a giant pointy hat she’d not only thrown over her head, but wrapped around her throat and let trail behind her.

  She had the most lovely eyes, though. Dark and shiny and plastic, with the subtlest variations of shading in the iris that made you feel you could sink into them.

  My moment of fluff brained incomprehension ended. I squealed, “You’re alive! Little Miss Snippybritches, you’re alive!” and threw my arms around her neck in the most desperate hug I could remember or imagine.

  Alas, the thump of my book on the floor and the poke of all those pinheads into my body brought that hug to a very quick end. “Oh, I’m sorry. That must hurt. How did you escape? What happened to your eyes?” I had a thousand questions… well, an uncounted and certainly large number of questions, but I had to start with the most immediately emotional.

  “Where did you learn to speak in complete sentences?” she asked, her mouth still hanging open in surprise so deep it resembled horror.

  Actually, with the mismatched eyes and the plaid patches of repair, I might be scarier to look at than her. Food for thought!

  Gripping the earpieces, I wiggled my glasses. “Miss Sandy gave me these. They made me smart! While I don’t actually wish they could be removed, I am enjoying the thought that if they could, you could try them on. You’re so intelligent already. With glasses, you might be the smartest person Anywhere.”

  Her gaping mouth closed in a grimace, and Little Miss Snippybritches turned away from me, descending the stairs in stomping hops. “You’ve mistaken me for someone else, fluff head.”

  I scooted down the steps after her, bouncing each one on my backside with my book clutched in my lap. “That hardly seems likely. It’s possible that there was an entire production line of Little Miss Snippybritches, but those are usually animal shapes, and your quality—”

  “My name is Pincushion!” She growled, pulling the hood of her cloak farther down over her head. Then, her face hidden, she started to chuckle. “All the human magic in the world couldn’t change you. It just made you dumb on a grander scale.”

  I considered this for a few steps. “Am I still that familiar? I can’t remember myself, not in any useful way. I thought I must have become an entirely new person.”

  She didn’t answer, and we reached the entrance hall to find the Head Archivist still reading Sandy’s book. The librarian teams, clothlings riding on the shoulders of their marionette partners, were gathered around him in admiration. I had to admit, he could read. His head moved, following every word, and he leaned really close and changed his lenses a lot. Sometimes, he stared at one spot on a page for several seconds, switching lenses repeatedly! If that bundlish wasn’t the champion reader Anywhere, it would be quite a competition to watch.

  I skittered ahead, tucking my book under one arm so I could pull on Little Miss Snippybritches’ hand. “Come see! We delivered the first history book about Sandy. I bet there— oof!” My explanation was cut short when she shoved me hard, and I tumbled onto the floor.

  Feet apart, one fist on her hip, she stood in front of the lectern and pointed up at the Head Archivist. “By the command of Princess Charity, that book will be destroyed. You will destroy all books with information about the human Sandy Golding, unread.”

  If my mouth could open, I’m sure it would have fallen onto the floor. Everyone stared at her, stunned into silence.

  “Chair!” Little Miss Snippybritches yelled. Mesmerized, two marionettes pushed one of the chairs over from the meeting table. Arms extended, cloak billowing, she hopped up onto it so smoothly that she might as well have floated.

  The authority of altitude obtained, she waved an arm around the room as she resumed her speech. “This isn’t a time to be afraid. Princess Charity intends to create a new golden age. For the Library Tree, she will create a new role—storytellers!”

  Gasps echoed around the room, and Little Miss Snippybritches stood just a bit taller, proud of that reaction. “Her Highness loves to write, and will make more writers. Your collection of fiction books will increase tenfold, and librarians will journey from the tree to the capitol to tell stories to all the visitors. Princess Charity will give you more than you ever knew you wanted, but your fealty belongs to her. Here and There can have only one ruler. You will give no aid to the human Sandy.”

  “What? That doesn’t sound like Charity at all!” exclaimed Sandy. She wobbled down the stairs from the sitting room, burdened by holding Butterscotch Wisdom in her arms. Tumbles stuck close to her, arms raised in case Sandy tumbled.

  “Destroy the bo
ok. Now!” Little Miss Snippybritches ordered, ignoring Sandy. The Head Archivist and his librarians shrank away from the outstretched hand.

  “Did Charity really order my book to be destroyed?” Sandy demanded, eyebrows knotted in pain and disbelief.

  That disbelief struck home. Try as she might, Little Miss Snippybritches could not ignore such a direct question from a human. She hunched a little, and then straightened up in defiance. “The specific order I was sent to deliver was her promise of a golden age, but Princess Charity had not yet heard that the other human had arrived, or that a book about her existed yet. I’m interpreting.”

  Outrage hit me so hard that I had to grab my cap to keep from shaking. My voice sounded even squeakier than usual. “You can’t make up what a human says!”

  Dark eyes turned on me in fury. “Work that sack of cotton you call a head harder. I know what you are. Do you only do what your human tells you to do, or do you do what she wants?”

  “Well… I’m trying to be the best guide I can…” I spluttered.

  “Right!” For a second, Little Miss Snippybritches and I stared at each other. It felt like being really, really angry at my own reflection, and I couldn’t help but think I saw those same feelings in her button eyes. Especially as the stare stretched out, longer and longer.

  Sandy laid Butterscotch Wisdom carefully on the steps, and took a couple of steps closer to Little Miss Snippybritches. They must have been doing magic upstairs, because Sandy’s shoulders were all bunched up, and her fingertips hovered by her mouth. “I can’t… that’s not what Charity would really want. I’m sure you’re wrong.”

  Little Miss Snippybritches turned her gaze from me to Sandy. Even nervous, Sandy was a human, and for a moment the clothling in the golden cape shivered, wrapping her arms around herself. That moment of weakness over, she lifted her hands again and yelled, “I will do whatever it takes to make Charity the sole and undisputed ruler Everywhere. The book will be destroyed. The human Sandy will be exiled. The only question is whether the Library Tree does this willingly, and receives the rewards Princess Charity offers.”

  I couldn’t help myself. “Well, actually, no. That’s not the only question at all. I can think of all kinds of questions, and I’m sure we can solve this peacefully if we get the answers. What exactly has Princess Charity said about Sandy? When did you see her last? What messengers had she received? What kind of sidekick are you to Princess Charity? Perhaps you’re fulfilling the wrong role.” I tried to climb up on the chair with her, but Little Miss Snippybritches kicked my hand away.

  Ignoring me and Sandy both, she glared at the Head Archivist. “Answer now. Will you destroy the book, or not?”

  Sandy started edging around in a circle toward my side of the chair. “It’s okay. I got what I needed. I’ll just go, and you can destroy the book, and there won’t be a problem.”

  At the foot of the stairs, her joints making scratchy noises, Butterscotch Wisdom stood up. The Head Archivist rushed immediately to her side, but she didn’t need his support. At least as proud as Little Miss Snippybritches, she said, “We will not destroy this book, or any book. It is a matter of principle, not fealty. We cannot change our nature.”

  My former picnic-mate cocked her fist on her hip, and sneered. “You can, if your princess orders it. The only reason you’re disobeying is because you’ve given yourself to the human Sandy. Do you see, now? There can only be one ruler.”

  I looked at the Head Librarian, and her Head Archivist, and the lesser librarians, and some of them looked at me, and, well, we all looked at each other. Much as I hated to admit it, that description did seem to match this situation spot-on.

  “Last chance!” Little Miss Snippybritches barked. Sandy, who’d never actually stopped her slow circle, got close enough to hook her fingers into the back of my dress. Clearly, it was rapid exit time.

  Alas, we were out of time. Her arm hooked around the Head Archivist’s, Butterscotch Wisdom declared, “We will not destroy this book or any book. We will not refuse help to this human or any human.”

  Little Miss Snippybritches whipped a particularly long pin out of her chest, and thrust it out to point at Tumbledown’s nose. He had been considerably slower with his edging, and was still on the opposite side of the chair from me and Sandy.

  “What is your greatest desire?” she demanded.

  “To… to be a real dragon,” he stammered.

  She smirked. “Big surprise. Same as every dargon. But Princess Charity can grant your wish.” And with that, she poked him in the snout with her pin.

  It was a good thing he wasn’t a flops. He might have popped! And then, for a second, I wondered if maybe he was a flops.

  Tumbledown… swelled. He got bigger, and bigger, his round body blowing up twice its previous size, three times. He was getting huge!

  Then he opened his mouth, and let it all out in a wash of green flame that sprayed in arcs all over the walls and ceiling. The reading lectern, and the book about Sandy, were caught in the blast and reduced to ash. Other books just caught fire.

  As did the tree itself. Oh, my.

  The Library Tree was on fire. My eyes stung with sudden tears. “How can you do this?”

  She folded her arms, showing no sign of fear at the flames spreading across the room around us. “Nothing is more important, to me or to Anywhere, than Princess Charity’s happiness.”

  An uncharacteristic scowl with clenched teeth broke out on Sandy’s face. “There is no way that this is what Charity wants.”

  Little Miss Snippybritches didn’t answer, or even look at her. She did look at me. Whipping her floppy golden cloak around her, she sank into it, until it shrank and disappeared. Her eyes were still on mine when they winked out.

  That left us in a tree full of books that was on fire. Both the tree and the books were on fire, that is, and more of both were on fire with every second. We had to do something about that!

  My heroine, of course, did not need any prompting. Perhaps I was merely reflecting what she would obviously feel? Did I want that to be true? That way lay Pincushion Madness. Unless the whole point was that Little Miss Snippybritches was not actually…

  This really was not the time for speculation, magic spectacles!

  “We have to get everyone out!” Sandy shouted, while I stood there thinking.

  Everyone else also stood there, even after I lurched into action. I scurried past Tumbledown, stopping only long enough to ask, “Are you okay?”

  He had deflated back to normal size, or maybe a little more squashy. Smoke leaking from his mouth, he wheezed, “Did you see me?”

  That would have to do. There was a certain irony that as the origin point of the conflagration, he was farthest from any of the fires. I had to attend to more endangered folk. The librarian council had all been gathered around the now-incinerated podium, and with flame flickering barely a foot away from her, I grabbed the worn, faded old librarian’s hand and pulled. When this didn’t work, I got behind her and pushed.

  She stumbled a few inches, and then dug in.

  Sandy was having similar problems. She had hoisted Butterscotch Wisdom up into her arms, but the Head Librarian pushed at her, squirming. The crackle of burning books drowned out her usual grinding noises, but not her voice. “No. Leave me here!”

  “You’ll die!” exclaimed Sandy. The clothlings near me sniffled. One turned and hugged her marionette. The worn-out oldest librarian put her face in her hands, but when I tried to push again, she still resisted.

  “I am already dead. Without my books I know nothing, understand nothing. I have no purpose,” said Butterscotch Wisdom. The Head Archivist had wrapped his arms around her now, and helped her pull free of Sandy.

  “Without my filing system, what am I?” mumbled the worn-out clothling. I had to abandon her to tackle the clothling next to her, wrapping my body tightly around her waist to smother a fire that had just started to catch on her skirt.

  Sandy’s head darted aro
und, this way and that, but her heroic spirit came through in a pinch. She pointed out through the main entrance. “Look. See the papers fluttering around? Your old life is lost, so I’ll give you a new one. You are now librarians in exile, a traveling lending library. Your quest is to wander the whole world, collecting the books and pages that escaped the fire, going on adventures to piece history back together. You’ll store books by lending them to people, and as you move the books around, people can learn things. But first, you have to run away!”

  Butterscotch Wisdom and the Head Archivist stared at her, but I knew the spell had worked. Why? Because the doll I’d just extinguished let out a scream! Suddenly clothlings were screaming all over, and they and their marionettes were stampeding down staircases and out the front door.

  My wonderful new book lay a few feet from Tumbles, parts of its cover already smoldering. I needed it to be useful to Sandy! What was I, if I wasn’t her guide and expert?

  It had to wait. Mine wasn’t the only life here. Among all the librarians running around, I saw a single messenger bird swerving through the crowd toward the exit, and jumped on top of him.

  “Let me go! Help! Help! Crazy incendiary clothling!” He flapped his wings, but neither that nor his pedaling would free his little round cycle from my entangling grip.

  “I have a message for you to take!” I said in a hurry.

  “Oh. Why didn’t you say so?”

  Resisting the urge for a discussion of whether I had, indeed, just said so, I skipped to the important part. “There must be more messengers in this tree, correct?”

  “Sure. We have a whole roost,” he said from underneath me. With all the yelling and the sounds of the fire, he was quite hard to hear.

  Lifting myself off, I picked up his wheel and turned him around to face the stairs up. “Go tell them to deliver this message to all the library workers in the upper branches: ‘The tree is on fire. Get out safely as fast as you can. A new life is waiting for you.’ Then, once that message is delivered, all of the messengers should also escape.”