Stolen Magic(3)

Where was His Lordship? Were his oxen still lumbering on?

People and beasts died regularly in blizzards on Lahnt, although she was in no danger. Nor was His Lordship—if he could make his way back to them. Masteress Meenore would keep them both warm, but she doubted IT had heat enough to prevent the oxen from freezing to death.

Where was His Lordship?





CHAPTER TWO



IT broke into song, bellowing loud enough to almost drown out the howling wind.



“There once was a dragon called Kacial

who stayed in when the day was glacial.

Because ITs flame would snuff out

from any snow on ITs snout,

IT remained in ITs lair palatial.”



His Lordship’s form took shape out of a white world. He deposited Nesspa in the cart with Masteress Meenore and shouted into ITs earhole. Elodie could hear him only faintly: “I’ll bring the oxen past you and round and round. If you warm them, and they keep moving, one or two may live.”

One or two? Out of eight!

She couldn’t hear ITs answer, but she did hear IT sing again.



“There once was a dragon named Gizzard,

who, when caught in a blizzard,

danced with a spin and a hop,

a heated and happy dragon gavotte

that would have astonished a wizard.”



The oxen filed by under ITs outstretched wing while IT continued to bawl out verses about dragons named this and that. The evening dragged on.

A new shape, no bigger than Elodie, arrived just outside the scope of ITs wing. It brushed snow off itself and became a small woman, waving a hand in front of her nose. Even in a blizzard, IT stank.

Elodie blinked. Not a small woman. A brunka!

Lambs and calves! High Brunka Marya?

Elodie formed an impression of a bulbous nose and intent eyes. The brunka wasn’t smiling, though brunkas almost always smiled. But this was a blizzard, and she was encountering an ogre and a dragon.

She spoke words that vanished into the wind.

IT roared, “I am gratified you liked my warbling enough to come. Can you conduct us to safety?”

Her masteress had sung to bring help? Elodie shook her head in admiration.

The brunka nodded and made a flinging gesture back in the direction they’d come. Elodie gasped. A rainbow flowed from her finger. The snow, rather than hiding the rainbow, picked up its colors. Snowflakes sparkled like tiny rubies, emeralds, and sapphires. High Brunka Marya—she could be none other—started away under the rainbow, leaning into the wind, struggling through the drifts.

Elodie clasped her hands in delight. Thank you, blizzard. They were going to the Oase after all. The oxen would live, and she’d see the Replica.

The three abandoned the carts. By rainbow glow, Elodie saw His Lordship go by with Nesspa in his arms (licking his face), driving the oxen ahead of them. Elodie set out even with ITs neck but fell back to next to ITs belly and then ITs tail, fighting the wind through snow that mounded, here and there, to her waist.

Masteress Meenore lowered ITself and rolled onto ITs side. “Climb on, Lodie. You are delaying me.”

She did. In the past she’d been on ITs back only when IT flew. Now she slipped from side to side on wet scales as IT lumbered along under the rainbow, which arched only a few inches over her head. She tugged off a glove and thrust her hand into the miracle—and yanked it out instantly. Her hand tingled with pins and needles as if it had awakened from a month’s sleep.

IT wreathed around ITs head to face her and moralize louder than the blizzard, “Pain, Lodie, is the deserved consequences of a rash act.”

Worth it! she thought. She rubbed her hand until the stinging finally stopped and feeling returned. Then she hunched down to get the most of ITs heat, contenting herself with looking up at the rainbow.

They had been struggling downhill, but now they began to climb, and Elodie had to hug ITs neck to keep from sliding off. She cried, “I don’t mean to be impertinent,” and dimly heard ITs answer, “I did not suspect impertinence . . . until you apologized.” Enh enh enh.

As the way became steeper, she could think of nothing but hanging on. If she fell off, she’d be lost in one minute and frozen in the next.

At last ITs back leveled. Elodie heard wood groaning, then horses whinnying and donkeys braying. Probably happy braying, because beasts loved His Lordship. They seemed to know he could become one of them. The only exception was cats, who wanted him to shape-shift into a mouse so they could eat him.

Masteress Meenore progressed through a wide door into a large wooden stable dimly lit by a row of coal braziers that ran down the middle, intended to keep the animals from freezing. His Lordship pushed the big door closed, then set Nesspa down.

They were in an open area before the beasts’ stalls began. IT lowered ITself to ITs belly, and Elodie slid off. The dog trotted to the stalls, sniffing.

“High Brunka Marya,” IT said, “you have succored us. May we return the favor? Your trouble is grave indeed.”





CHAPTER THREE



What trouble could befall a brunka, unless it was trouble for Lahnt? Despite ITs warmth, Elodie felt a chill.

She saw the high brunka better in here: plump, her mother’s age, more or less, with a square face, ruddy cheeks, and thick lips that still failed to smile. Below her blue wool cap, her graying brown hair fell to her shoulders in waves. If she had been taller, she’d have been unremarkable: her face as ordinary as a bowl of porridge, her plumpness as kindly as a soft bed. She curtsied to the three of them—a quick, efficient gesture.