Miraclist

by P B Hughes

  “I don’t know about that,” replied Daniel. “I saw a pretty wicked looking blue-leafed bush I thought about grabbing.”

  “Squat shrub with tiny white flowers?”

  “Yes,” replied Daniel.

  “Were the leaves obovate or cordate?”

  Daniel stared at Jude feeling stupid.

  Jude rolled his eyes. “Did they look more like circles or triangles?”

  “Circles?” said Daniel, not entirely sure.

  “That’s a wink-bush, you twit—they’re about as lethal as honeysuckle.”

  “Oh,” said Daniel, sounding disappointed for the ruse. “Well what about a red cactus with black, barbed spines all over?”

  Now Jude looked interested.

  “A Devil’s Paw?”

  “I wouldn’t know,” Daniel responded. “I’m not the expert.”

  “Was it flowering?”

  “Yeah, as a matter of fact, it was. A couple of flowers were budding on the side.”

  Jude snapped his book shut, stuck it inside his cloak, and swung his feet off the bed and onto the floor with a thump. Daniel backed against the wall as Jude whisked past him and out the door, right up to Gregory.

  “One hour,” he commanded, pointing a finger in his face. “After that, I’m coming back.”

  Gregory gave Daniel an impressed look, and raised an imaginary toast to him. “Nice job, Daniel. But first we have to go get Martha—I promised we’d bring her along.”

  “You’re certain she’s coming?” questioned Daniel. “Do you really think she’ll be able to get out of there without Mrs. Doppledodger noticing?”

  “Certainly I’m certain. Do you really think I’d do something to get us caught? Come on now—I told her to meet us outside the inn at ten. We’ve only got about fifteen minutes.”

  The boys were ten minutes late. But there was Martha, sitting on a bench outside the inn, white hood over her head, hands in her lap.

  “Psst,” hissed Gregory as they neared. “Martha, over here!”

  She looked up to see them, her face wrought with worry. Relief flooded her expression when she saw them coming. Behind her was a dingy-looking building, not a light on except for the swinging lantern hanging above her head. The sound of laughter echoed in the distance, but there was not a soul on the road other than the four of them.

  “Come on, let’s go,” said Gregory.

  Martha stood up and shook her head. “Gregory, I only came down to tell you I—I’m not coming.”

  “Sure you are,” laughed Gregory. “Quit being so responsible and come have some fun.”

  “But I—”

  “If you didn’t want to go, why did you come down to meet us?”

  “Because I’m trying to keep you out of trouble! Daniel, Jude,” pled Martha, “how did Gregory talk you two into this?”

  “It’s only for an hour,” said Daniel, now feeling guilty. “We’re not going to do anything that might get us into trouble.”

  “As far as I’m concerned,” said Jude, “Mordecai’s days of controlling what we do are over. We’re at the University now.”

  “But I’m not,” replied Martha.

  A lantern flickered inside one of the windows above them.

  “Quick!” whispered Gregory. “I think we woke someone up—let’s get out of here! If Mordecai catches us down here, we’re really in for it.”

  Gregory broke into a brisk trot, followed by the others. They reached the corner and took a sharp turn onto a well-lit street and began to walk through a neighborhood. It wasn’t long before they heard the sound of music and laughter growing as they neared the town square. A few people passed by, staggering back toward their homes. The streets were aglow with lamplight. Long ropes of swinging pennant flags zigzagged from lamppost to lamppost. Throngs of people danced about, while musicians played a merry tune atop a raised platform. Others lounged lazily on benches and at outside tables, raising their mugs as the song ended with a drawling cheer.

  “See? Look at all the fun!” said Gregory. “And you guys wanted to miss this!”

  Jude stepped in front of Gregory and turned to Daniel. “Where’d you see the Devil’s Paw?”

  “Oh,” said Daniel, scratching his head. “I think I saw it over in the merchants’ section.”

  Jude turned and scanned the area until he saw a sign a few blocks away with an arrow labeled “Merchants,” pointing off down another street. Without a word, he pushed his way through the crowd toward the sign.

  “Hey!” said Daniel, “Jude, we shouldn’t split up!”

  Daniel followed Jude, apologizing to the people Jude would shove, though they hardly noticed as most people were packed together like sardines anyway. Martha hurried after—ducking and squeezing between the gaps in the crowd. Gregory, however, stayed behind when a large woman dressed in bright green stepped in between them with a tray of frothy drinks.

  “Ho, ho—have a drink, lad!” she crooned to Gregory as she held forth her merchandise.

  Gregory’s eyes grew wide with delight. “Why thank you, my good woman,” he said as he snatched a drink from the tray and raised it to his lips.

  “Gregory!” shouted a mortified Martha. “You put that down this instant!”

  Gregory rolled his eyes and reluctantly put it back on the tray.

  “Come on, Gregory,” Martha called as Daniel pulled her away, but Gregory was engulfed by a parade of dancing girls. He offered little resistance, and was swept into their circle of spinning joy.

  Daniel and Martha reached the end of the street and took a right only to be met by a juggler, painted with red and white flames all over his body, spinning torches into the air. Daniel noticed him just in time, and managed to dodge out of the way. Martha, however, was staring back after Gregory. She rammed directly into the juggler’s stomach, sending torches scattering into the crowd. One of the torches took a bad bounce and landed beneath an unsuspecting woman’s skirt. She let out a shriek as the skirt went up in smoke, removing all eyes from Daniel and Martha. A gentleman next to her quickly took action, dousing her with the contents of his oversized mug and soaking her from head to toe.

  “You owe me a drink!” he yapped as a stream of makeup ran down her face.

  The crowd roared with laughter, slapping the man on the back for his heroics, which gave Daniel and Martha enough time to duck behind a stack of large, rolled rugs.

  “Are you okay?” whispered Daniel as Martha caught her breath.

  “I—I think so,” she said, her voice shaking with embarrassment. “Oh, I knew this was a bad idea!”

  “Here,” said Daniel, offering the tail of his cloak to Martha. He was furious with Gregory for not keeping up. “You hang on to this—we’ll find Jude and get out of here.”

  They stepped out from behind the rugs, only to immediately be met by a merchant in rainbow-colored robes and a turban around his head.

  “New robes, get your new robes right here, straight from the exotic East!” he cried as he held a pink dress in front of Martha. “You, sir! Your girlfriend looks like she could use a new set of robes,” he said to Daniel.

  “She’s not my girlfriend,” Daniel shot, trying to keep an eye out for Jude.

  The merchant grinned and blocked their path. “A pretty lady should have a pretty dress.”

  “We don’t need any dresses,” Daniel said, curtly pushing past him. “We’re on a mission.”

  “Where’s Jude?” Martha asked. “Do you see him?”

  “Not sure,” said Daniel, craning his neck. “He’s got to be around here somewhere.”

  They continued down the street, avoiding vendors, performers, and the throngs of people all about them. It wasn’t until they took another turn down an adjacent road that Daniel finally spotted Jude, right outside a booth with a large sign in front of it that said, “Firo’s Fine Foliage.”

  He stood perfectly still, staring intently at something. Daniel planted his heel and marched angrily toward him, ready to give him a piece o
f his mind for running off. However, when he drew closer, he could see what Jude was staring at. It was not the small, spiny red cactus. It was the price tag of eighty gold pieces beneath it.

  “I didn’t realize it was so expensive,” said Daniel, sorry he had gotten Jude’s hopes up. “That’s nearly two months wages.”

  Jude’s eyes narrowed. “I need this. It will be an invaluable resource in battle.” His eyes darted from side to side, checking to see if anyone was watching him.

  “Well,” said Daniel, “obviously we can’t afford it, so it looks like we’ll just have to—”

  Jude reached out, snatched the plant from the countertop and tucked it under his arm inside his cloak. He whirled around, ready to run, when a massive hand pulled him up short, grabbing him by the scruff of the neck.

  “And just where are you off to, boy?” said a deep, gravelly voice.

  There, towering above him stood an ogre of a man with a thick black beard and wild eyes. For the first time since Daniel had known him, Jude looked frightened.

  “I—I didn’t steal anything,” sputtered Jude.

  “Don’t lie to me, boy,” growled the man. “No one lies to Firo and gets away with it!”

  Jude reached inside his cloak and pulled out the cactus. “Here,” he said frantically, “you can have it back. It’s just a plant!”

  “Just a plant?” roared Firo. He grabbed Jude by his shoulders, lifted him up and slammed him on the countertop. “That’s no ordinary plant—that’s a Devil’s Paw! The spines on that plant can kill a man in an instant. Do you know how we punish thieves in my country?”

  By this time, people began to stop to see what the commotion was about. Daniel glanced frenetically at the crowd, hoping someone would help him, but no one moved.

  “I’m sorry,” said Jude. “It—it won’t happen again!”

  The man reached behind the counter, pulled out a dagger and put the point at Jude’s throat.

  “You are all witnesses!” he bellowed. “Where I come from we cut off thieving hands!”

  “What? No!” Jude began to struggle, flailing and beating against the man’s grip. “What is it you want? I’ll give you anything—anything!”

  “I want your hand!” Firo cried, raising the dagger into the air. The crowd gasped.

  “There you are, sweetie!” sang out a girl’s voice from the crowd.

  Firo froze, his blade hanging in mid air. “What? Sweetie?” He scanned the crowd, bushy eyebrows knit. “Who dares interfere with my judgment?”

  “I told you not to go anywhere without me,” said the girl, pushing her way toward Jude.

  It was the Apex girl, Ari. Behind her stood Caden, open-mouthed with the rest of his gang.

  “What are you doing?” she asked alarmingly, looking up at Firo’s weapon. “Are you going to chop off his hand?”

  Daniel could see a twinge of hesitancy in Firo as he looked down at Ari’s wide blue eyes. “I caught this slop-sucker trying to steal from me.”

  “Steal?” she pined. “Why he would never steal a thing! You, sir, are categorically wrong!”

  “But he has no money—”

  “If it’s money you want, then I’ve got that.” She pulled out a pouch full of jingling coins and handed it to Firo.

  Taken aback, Firo accepted the pouch and pried open the strings. His eyes popped with surprise as he peered inside.

  “A thousand pardons,” he said with a bow, changing his tune for the paying customer. “Please, take a look around—what else would you like? Here at Firo’s Fine Foliage we have the most exquisite specimens in all of Orsidia!”

  “That will be all, thank you,” Ari replied, taking Jude by the hand and leading him away from the crowd, Daniel and Martha following. They ducked into an alleyway between two buildings, and Ari slumped against a wall, heaving a sigh of relief.

  “Who are you?” asked Daniel. She was still beautiful, he thought, flushed cheeks, hair slightly tousled. “What do you want from us?”

  “Ari—Ari Celeste. And I must say, you Littleton boys should know better than to resort to thievery. People around here have eyes in the back of their heads.”

  “Daniel didn’t steal anything,” Martha retorted. “Don’t lump him in with Jude.”

  “I see. Well I did not rescue Jude to condone his actions,” Ari replied. “I rescued him to make amends.”

  “Amends for what?” asked Daniel.

  “For Caden,” Ari replied to Daniel. “Back on the road when he singed your garments. I’m glad to see he didn’t burn your body as well. You might have ended up in the hospital.”

  “You can thank Martha for that,” Daniel responded. “She healed me.”

  Ari gave an approving nod to Martha. “Well, Caden’s probably looking for me, so I have to go. Until next time.” She turned the corner into the street and walked away.

  “Are you all right, Jude?” queried Martha, placing a hand on his shoulder.

  “Well, it’s about time!” interrupted a voice from behind them. “I’ve been searching all over creation for you three. Where have you been?”

  It was Gregory, hands on his hips.

  Martha let out a gasp. “Gregory, what happened to your face?”

  Chapter 16

  A dark blue bruise the size of a plum encircled Gregory’s eye. His hair was disheveled, and his nose trickled blood.

  “My face?” Gregory wiped his nose with his sleeve. “I’m not sure what you’re talking about.”

  Obviously, that was a lie. Gregory knew exactly what Martha meant, but his pride forced him to skirt the truth. The fact of the matter was everything had been going swimmingly for Gregory: he had joined a circle of dancing girls, all thrilled to have a Miraclist join them. But then the music stopped.

  “Thank you, thank you,” the singer had hollered from up on the stage as he held up a hand to silence the crowd. “All right, it’s that moment you’ve all been waiting for—the partner dance!”

  A surge of excitement ran through the crowd, and Gregory clandestinely inspected his prospects—the chorus of pretty girls with flowers in their hair, giggling and waving to him from across the way, bickering over who would get the next dance with him.

  “All right,” the singer continued, “men on this side, women on the other—that’s it!”

  Gregory fell in rank with the other men, facing the line of women across from them. The others might not know how to have fun, but that wouldn’t stop him.

  “Okay, this time it’s the ladies’ turn to pick their partner,” said the singer with a wink.

  A silly smile lay plastered across Gregory’s face as he combed his hair with his fingers, waiting for one of the pretty girls to pick him for a dance.

  “Ready, set,” the singer paused to create suspense, “go!”

  It was a wild rush as the girls stampeded toward them. A nice looking brunette was about to take Gregory’s hand when, much to his dismay, the girl was shoved out of the way by a hefty, tottering woman, nearly twice his size with blonde pigtails. He tried to dodge her reach, but she moved with the quickness of a hungry crocodile.

  “Hello, skinny Miraclist man,” she said to him in a funny accent with slurred speech. She snatched his arm in a vice grip. “I’m Hildy Hogginbottom.”

  “Um, my name’s Gregor—”

  He was cut short. The music began—a fast paced ditty that everyone but Gregory knew. The woman yanked Gregory to her, picked him up like a rag doll, and spun wildly amongst the dancers, knocking several of them to the ground like bowling pins.

  “I am glad to be meeting you, Gregor!” she said as they gyrated.

  “The pleasure is—humph—one sided,” mumbled Gregory between bounces.

  Around and around she went for several minutes until Gregory felt quite nauseated. Finally, the music stopped. Unfortunately for Gregory, she did not—carrying on, chortling and flailing about like a happy hippo. Gregory had had enough. He reached up and took hold of one of the ropes with the pennant
flags above their heads, slipped out of her grasp, and hung there, not quite sure what to do next. At first she didn’t notice, but was brought back to reality when she opened her eyes to see the crowd had created a circle around her and the dangling Gregory.

  “Oh no!” she bellowed. She bumbled away through the crowd and returned with a tiny wooden stool.

  “I will save you my sweet!” She set the stool down beneath Gregory and stepped on top of it, tippy toe.

  “Oh, stop swinging!” she said, frustrated, as Gregory swung back and forth, trying his best to avoid being caught in her powerful grasp.

  “It’s the wind,” Gregory called. “Powerful gusts are keeping me from your—ouch!”

  She grabbed Gregory by the foot and gave him a tug, snapping the rope and sending him sprawling on top of her head, holding on like a frightened koala bear.

  CRACK.

  The stool exploded beneath the added weight. Down went Gregory and down went Hildy on top of him. Gregory, pinned beneath the bawling woman who seemed to take little notice that she was crushing him, sputtered as he exhumed his head from beneath her.

  “Ma’am—hur—you’re killing me.”

  Wet tears dripped down on top of Gregory’s head like drops of rain.

  “For goodness sake,” he groaned. “Don’t cry now. Let me—hum—go get you a drink and a—ack—cookie to cheer you up!”

  She nodded, tears still dribbling down her chin, and rolled over on her side, allowing Gregory to bustle to his feet.

  As soon as he was up he was met with a fist in his face. A tiny man, no bigger than a child, walloped Gregory—first in the eye and then on the nose—shouting, “How dare you make a pass at my woman!”

  Gregory scrambled to his feet, and burst through the cackling mob.

  He raced toward the merchant sign, down the road, turned the corner, plowed over a fire-tossing juggler and a dress salesman who stepped out of nowhere, and nearly bumped a large merchant who threatened to cut off his hand.

  “Has anyone seen three students?” Gregory gasped as he slid to a stop. “Two boys and a girl—dressed in blue, green, and white?”

  “Your friends are over there,” said Ari as she passed him.

  “Thanks,” he said with a quick nod of gratitude. Then, seeing who it was, gave her the ugliest look he could muster and darted toward the alleyway to his friends.