what they’re capable of. They get overwhelmed by what they call ‘real life’ and never learn to use their gifts.”
“So you’re sayin’ understandin’ animals is my magickal gift?” I looked at Ernie, willing him to turn somersaults. Nothing happened.
“One of them, maybe. It’s a common enough one. Every horse doctor has a bit of it. Most magick isn’t throwin’ fireballs, you know. But your gifts are many, Verity. That’s why you have the Stone. And me. We make your gifts into powers. Or did you think this is happenin’ to you completely by chance?”
My eyebrows went up. “It’s not? This is some kind of destiny thing? Like King Arthur?”
“If you wanna call it that.”
Ernie sat atop a thimble and drummed on it with a tiny paw. He seemed impatient about something. I made a sour face at him and said, “What’s your problem?”
“You’re me problem, ducky,” the mouse replied in a working-class Britannic accent.
If my jaw had dropped earlier, it positively plummeted now. “You talked!”
“What? The silly sword jabbers on half the night and yer don’t bat an eye. The mouse talks and yer wanna call the bloody London Times . Jasper, yer sure this is the one? Seems a bit dim to me.”
“Just gimme a chance to get my bearin’s,” I protested.
“We’ll, yer better get ‘em quick. Trouble’s comin’ our way.”
I shook my head, which started to ache from all of this. “I’m talkin’ to a rodent.”
“Your mind gave me a command,” said Jasper. “You wanted to speak to him, so I boosted your gift.”
“Just like that? No, ‘oh, mighty sword of sorcery, grant me this wish’?”
“We can do it that way, but, to be honest, it wastes a lot of time.”
“Which we don’t have,” grumped Ernie. “Me network says Venoma’s on the way. Be here in just a few minutes. Not in strikin’ range yet, miss.”
I felt I should contribute, being the Anointed One or whatever they thought I was. “How will we know when they’re that close?”
Jasper told me, “The Stone’ll let you know.”
Hmmm. I guess bein’ vague is just somethin’ that comes with magick. I unbuckled the belt from the suit of golden armor and fastened it around my waist. Jasper fit nice and snug into the frog on my left hip. “What now?”
“We needs to get upstairs and outside without bein’ seen by any of the actors or stagehands,” Ernie said, hopping off of his thimble.
That confused me. “Why? I know ‘em. They’re okay.”
“Lovey, if you’re gonna be our mighty leader, listen to your Uncle Ernie. The so-called Honourable Merchantry has turncoats watchin’ everybody. Don’t let your trustin’ nature get us all transmogrified. Once is plenty fer this old coot.” He began climbing the stairs up to the stage, grunting all the while. Stopping three steps up, he said, “Oh. And don’t talk to the cat. He’s a bloody traitor. Works for fish scraps, that’s the shame of it. Too bad, really. Used to be a nice chap. Grocer in Ipswich when we lived there. Used to give me missus first pick o’ the brisket on Thursdays.”
“Got it,” I whispered, finger to my lips. “No cat chat.”
“You bet your arse,” the mouse said, nodding for emphasis and resuming his climb.
We arrived at the top of the stairs without making them squeak too much. I tucked the sword behind me so no one would spot it and start up a curious conversation. Didn’t want it banging against a wall, either. I needn’t have worried. Nobody looked my way. They were all too enthralled by Macbeth’s rantings about Birnam Wood come to Dunsinane. Eddie watched over Ma’s shoulder from the other side of the stage. I stopped and watched, too. Booth may have been an arrogant puffer pigeon on the street, but on stage he had something special. You couldn’t help but pay attention when he spoke. Is that his magick, his gift? I told myself to be careful around him. As Ernie had said, you couldn’t trust anyone.
Funny, then,
“So you’re sayin’ understandin’ animals is my magickal gift?” I looked at Ernie, willing him to turn somersaults. Nothing happened.
“One of them, maybe. It’s a common enough one. Every horse doctor has a bit of it. Most magick isn’t throwin’ fireballs, you know. But your gifts are many, Verity. That’s why you have the Stone. And me. We make your gifts into powers. Or did you think this is happenin’ to you completely by chance?”
My eyebrows went up. “It’s not? This is some kind of destiny thing? Like King Arthur?”
“If you wanna call it that.”
Ernie sat atop a thimble and drummed on it with a tiny paw. He seemed impatient about something. I made a sour face at him and said, “What’s your problem?”
“You’re me problem, ducky,” the mouse replied in a working-class Britannic accent.
If my jaw had dropped earlier, it positively plummeted now. “You talked!”
“What? The silly sword jabbers on half the night and yer don’t bat an eye. The mouse talks and yer wanna call the bloody London Times . Jasper, yer sure this is the one? Seems a bit dim to me.”
“Just gimme a chance to get my bearin’s,” I protested.
“We’ll, yer better get ‘em quick. Trouble’s comin’ our way.”
I shook my head, which started to ache from all of this. “I’m talkin’ to a rodent.”
“Your mind gave me a command,” said Jasper. “You wanted to speak to him, so I boosted your gift.”
“Just like that? No, ‘oh, mighty sword of sorcery, grant me this wish’?”
“We can do it that way, but, to be honest, it wastes a lot of time.”
“Which we don’t have,” grumped Ernie. “Me network says Venoma’s on the way. Be here in just a few minutes. Not in strikin’ range yet, miss.”
I felt I should contribute, being the Anointed One or whatever they thought I was. “How will we know when they’re that close?”
Jasper told me, “The Stone’ll let you know.”
Hmmm. I guess bein’ vague is just somethin’ that comes with magick. I unbuckled the belt from the suit of golden armor and fastened it around my waist. Jasper fit nice and snug into the frog on my left hip. “What now?”
“We needs to get upstairs and outside without bein’ seen by any of the actors or stagehands,” Ernie said, hopping off of his thimble.
That confused me. “Why? I know ‘em. They’re okay.”
“Lovey, if you’re gonna be our mighty leader, listen to your Uncle Ernie. The so-called Honourable Merchantry has turncoats watchin’ everybody. Don’t let your trustin’ nature get us all transmogrified. Once is plenty fer this old coot.” He began climbing the stairs up to the stage, grunting all the while. Stopping three steps up, he said, “Oh. And don’t talk to the cat. He’s a bloody traitor. Works for fish scraps, that’s the shame of it. Too bad, really. Used to be a nice chap. Grocer in Ipswich when we lived there. Used to give me missus first pick o’ the brisket on Thursdays.”
“Got it,” I whispered, finger to my lips. “No cat chat.”
“You bet your arse,” the mouse said, nodding for emphasis and resuming his climb.
We arrived at the top of the stairs without making them squeak too much. I tucked the sword behind me so no one would spot it and start up a curious conversation. Didn’t want it banging against a wall, either. I needn’t have worried. Nobody looked my way. They were all too enthralled by Macbeth’s rantings about Birnam Wood come to Dunsinane. Eddie watched over Ma’s shoulder from the other side of the stage. I stopped and watched, too. Booth may have been an arrogant puffer pigeon on the street, but on stage he had something special. You couldn’t help but pay attention when he spoke. Is that his magick, his gift? I told myself to be careful around him. As Ernie had said, you couldn’t trust anyone.
Funny, then,
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