Season of the Witch part 22

To my relief, we appeared right at Baba Yaga’s front gate.  Also to my relief, my stomach had not revolted much during the last two trips.  Maybe it was just too tired for its normal nausea; I didn’t dare to believe that it was developing a tolerance for teleporting.
Wearily hefting the sword, I set down the vodyanoy, and cracked open the gate.  Then, from above and behind me, a voice called, “Tristan?”
It doesn’t sound like she’s gotten older...but you can’t be too careful about these things.  It doesn’t prove anything anyway, since she ages so slowly.  She could be any age, she could-
A mortar flew over our heads, landing in the yard.  And out climbed Calla, looking fresh as a daisy-if a bit dark around the eyes, which were moistening as I looked.  She stumbled forward, and wrapped her arms around my waist, burying her head in my chest.  With my free claw I rubbed her head.
“How...long?” I asked, fearing the answer.
“Two days left,” she murmured.  “You’re ahead of schedule; usually the hero shows up at the very last moment.”
“Well, you know me.  I’m no hero.  I don’t believe in following conventions.”
Calla snorted.


Baba Yaga looked extremely disappointed when Calla and I showed up with the sword.*  However, a bargain was a bargain, so she sighed and took Kladenets from me.
“Very good, Chernobyl,” she said begrudgingly.
“Thanks.  We’ll be going now,” I said, also returning the pack of supplies.  She barely noticed, instead smugly running her long hands over the blade.  I had a feeling she was trying to find out what it did.  And something told me when that happened, she would be most displeased.  So it was probably best to get going now.
On one of the shelves by the fireplace, I noticed a blue towel and fancy wooden comb laying side by side.  Remembering an aspect of one of the tales of Baba Yaga, I inched my way over and picked them up, tucking them into my shirt.  Since I’d foolishly forgotten to ask Koschei to heal my broken wing, and Calla’s healing skills were erratic at best, we were probably going to have to run soon.


The witch turned to stare at Calla.
“Remember what I told you, myshka.  I mean it.”
“Yes ma’am,” she whispered, averting her eyes.
I was curious, but now wasn’t really the time to ask.  I caught Calla’s arm, and quickly pulled her out of the house as the witch went back to the sword.
“What’s the rush?” she asked, tapping the door frame; as she did, the house lowered itself, and we jumped out onto the lawn-much better than my previous experience with the place.
“She’s probably about to find out that the sword does nothing but make good borscht,” I explained.  “We need to get away before that happens.”
Her little jaw dropped, and she covered her mouth after a second with a slightly hysterical giggle.  “Really?”
“Yeah.  It’s not our fault, but she might try to take it out on us regardless.  Go faster.”


We had barely made it into the woods when I heard a horrible, ungodly screech, followed by the thuds of giant clawed feet thumping across the ground.
Shoot.  The whole house is coming after us.
Calla gasped.
I risked a glance; if you’ve never seen a house on giant chicken legs chasing after you, it’s hard to imagine.**  A little wobbly at first, probably from not having to move so much in such a long time, it thudded after us, giant claws scraping the ground and leaving ditches in their wake.  Baba Yaga stood in the doorway, hair blowing back, eyes of fire burning even from this far away.  And I could see that her pale face was twisted in a fury that gave me an adrenaline rush.

*The vodyanoy had been returned to the lake, and his true form-though he still disliked the rusalki, he figured it was safer than being somewhere closer to Koschei’s influence.  Calla promised to keep in touch somehow, and has even been considering introducing him to the world of the Internet, if she can create a spell to make a computer waterproof.
I asked her later why on earth she made him a duck, of all things.  She explained that she’d been trying to make a firebird, for dramatic effect, but his watery nature kept struggling against it, and finally it seemed easier to just make him something actually connected with water.  Besides, they were on a tight schedule.
** Unless you have a very creative imagination, or have seen it happen in a movie with very convincing CGI or something.

TANSTAV part 21

Chapter 6 part 2

When I finished, Xen asked, "If he's getting out, do you think his cronies have been getting out, too?"

"I haven't seen any evidence of them.  But I wouldn't rule it out.  Would you mind if I reinstated your bodyguard?"

The look she gave me needed no interpretation.

"Xen," I pleaded, "it's for your own safety!  I don't want him getting his hands on you again!"

She still looked unwilling.  I leaned my forehead against hers, staring deep into her eyes.

"Please?"

She rolled her eyes, but I followed the plea with a kiss.  When it ended, she muttered, "I'll forgive you.  Eventually."

I chuckled at the running gag statement.  Then I asked, "How's Calla been?"

"Very quiet.  I checked her a few times, before I dozed off, and she's still sleeping.  I put some sweat on her bruises, so they should start healing up quickly enough.  But the real trouble is in here," she pointed a claw at her head, "and here."  She pointed at her heart.

"I know," I sighed.  "Believe me, I know."

After snuggling for a while longer, Xen made dinner, we ate, snuggled (among other things) some more, and then she went back to her apartment.  She needed to go to bed, and I needed to think.  It was now 8:05 pm, and I could feel the backs of my eyes stinging, begging for sleep.  I went to the bathroom, and woke myself up more by splashing water on my face.  Then I retrieved a notepad and pen, and made a list.

Things I Know

• Jessup has gotten out of prison at least once, as is evident by the tracks on Senator Skald's lawn, and the pieces of grass and dirt on his feet.
• Mrs. Skald was not faking her distress; therefore, her husband must really have vanished.

I wondered whether to actually count that point, since it was based on guessing, but since I think myself a pretty good judge of character, I was sure it was genuine.  I wracked my brain for another certainty, but came up with nothing.  So instead I wrote questions.

• Was Senator Skald kidnapped, or did he go into hiding, or did he leave of his own free will?
• Why has nobody reported seeing him vanish, other than his wife?
• Has he been taken by a political enemy?
• How did someone take him, anyway?  Even if he’s an old troll, he’s still got to be pretty strong.
• How did Jessup get out of prison, and back in, with nobody noticing?
• Why would he be involved in the senator's disappearance?
• What do those bits of magical residue do?

I groaned inwardly when I saw all the things I would have to find out, but steeled myself.  I had taken on this case of my own free will; I owed it to the clients to get the answers.  Besides, a detective's got to do what a detective's got to do.

I looked at the kitchen table, where I had placed the evidence baggies so they wouldn't interfere with my Xen-time.  In order to distinguish the ones with the magic from each other, I had used different colored markers to place a dot on each.  The one I had found on the senator's property had a pink dot, the one in the elevator a blue dot, and the one in Jessup's cell had a black dot.  Other than that, the magics looked about the same.

If only I were a mage or an alchemist right now! I thought.  Then I'd be able to figure out, just by holding them, what they-  I stopped, and looked over at the room where the girl slept.  It was worth a shot.  I was desperate.  The odds of her being able to help weren't thoroughly high.  But I'd be turned to stone and smashed before I asked that irritating Fleming for help.