The red brick road, p.2
The Red Brick Road, page 2
“Oh boy; she’s wearing the purple Bespokes.” Staples said out of the side of his mouth. “Here we go.”
“Ya’ll better get in ‘here and git to yore chores!” She bellowed. Even her voice was bigger than everyone else’s. “Dinner’s in twenty minutes so you’uns better get a move on!”
“Yes, Miss Devinell,” the two boys said in unison. They knew better than to talk back. Not only would Miss Devinell make sure they missed their dinner- which she was an expert at having them miss- she would also fetch the switch she often carried like a riding crop while out and about. She never missed with it either.
“Let’s go, Honus.” Staples said. “Work begun is half done is what they say.”
“There’s only proper names in my home! Proper is what we do here!”
“Ahh, then let us go Master Barney,” Staples said with a smile. “Our duties doth await.” He gave a short bow and gestured towards the uneven stairs. “In yon abode, no less.”
“It’s more than an abode,” said Honus. He put his hand on his heart and recited:
Once more unto the breach, dear friend, once more-
Or close the home up with our orphaned dead.
In peace, there's nothing so becomes a boy and his chores.
As modest stillness and humility shines like the floors.
Staples looked at his friend- agog.
Miss Devinell narrowed her eyes.
But when the blast of Miss Devinell blows in our ears
Honus continued.
Then imitate the action of the servant;
stiffen the brushes,
summon up the soap,
and dispose the vile dust with hard-favored rags.
“When you have had quite enough, Henry.” Miss Devinell said icily.
“What?” Staples said. “Who’s Henry? You Henry, Honus… err, Barney?”
“It’s Shakespeare,” Honus said. “Sort of. It’s mostly from a play called Henry the Fifth.”
“Fifth of what?”
“He’s the fifth Henry.”
“I’m gonna be the brass cannon on you both if you don’t get a move on!” Bellowed Miss Devinell. A rare smile played across her face. “So, get thee both to a broom closet.”
Honus stifled a chuckle. “Yes, Miss Devinell.”
“What?”
“Let’s go.” Honus grabbed Staples and pulled him into the house, past their towering matron.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
At dinner, Honus sat opposite Staples at the front of the table since they were the oldest. The other dozen or so children formed a ring around the rest of the table with the youngest as far away from Miss Devinell as she could put them.
Rumbles of thunder made the younger children look at the ceiling.
An elderly black woman backed into the dining room through the large swinging door. She was pulling a cart.
“Evenin’ all” she said as swung around to push the cart to the table.
In unison, the children -young and old- responded: “Good evening Miss Permilla.”
“And how is every’un doin’ this fine evening?”
“As fine as fine can be ‘xpected under the circumstances,” Staples said with a wide grin. “Circumstances being what they are.”
“Them circumstances gotta be what they is; can’t be nuthin else,” Miss Permilla said as she wheeled the serving cart beside Miss Devinell. “What say you?” She asked her. “Ma’am?”
Miss Devinell sat at the head of the table in a tall, ornate chair that was on the verge of becoming a throne. She gave a sidelong glance to the black woman. “I’m sure I told you not to encourage the children.”
Miss Permilla waved a hand dismissively as she picked up a large ladle. “Well, that’s the main thing what children need, Ma’am; a good bit of encouragement.”
“All’s I can say is you encourage me t’ eat with your fine cooking,” Staples said, even though the cooking was all in all bland and completely free of meat.
No one was sure why Miss Devinell did not eat meat but the theories abounded- from having worked in a slaughter house as a child to being deathly allergic to meat and anything in between. However, above all, one thing was certain- none of the children had the courage to ask her why it was never served.
“Well that’s mighty kind of you, Staples.” Miss Permilla rounded the end of the table and headed back up the other side.
One of the shutters on the dining room windows clattered against the frame.
“Oh!” Staples said. “There’s storms heading this way.” He nodded at Barney. “The paper said so. All of them did, in fact.”
“Really?” Miss Devinell asked. “Big storms?”
“They got’s t’a be,” said Permilla. “My bunion’s been swearin’ at me all day long.” She ladled vegetable stew into bowls as she pushed the cart around the table. “Givin’ me a hard time is what they is been doin’.”
“Well, if you can’t trust Miss Permilla’s bunions, we got bigger troubles,” Staples smiled wide. “Am I right, or am I right?”
The smallest of the children at the end of the table giggled.
Miss Permilla hushed them as she rolled by, ladling vegetable stew as she went.
The shutter banged against the window again as the wind picked up.
“The paper talked about tornadoes.” Barney said. “Wiped out several houses in Ashland.”
“That’s not all that far,” remarked Miss Devinell. “Oh dear.”
“Not how the crow flies, anyhow,” Staples said. “Unless they gots a headwind.”
Miss Devinell looked at the window as the shutter banged again. “If nothing else, that shutter needs to be fastened before it breaks that window.” She looked at Barney. “If you would please.”
Barney looked down at his hot stew. “Can I eat first then…” he was interrupted by the shutter banging again.
“Not unless you earned enough to replace that window because of your dawdling.”
Staples guffawed. “I’ll let’cha know how the hot stew was!”
“Mister Jay, why don’t you assist your associate?”
“Why?” Staples looked down at his stew. “Because when all is said ‘n done, I’d rather eat my stew.”
“Mister Jay,” Miss Devinell repeated. “As the two eldest here, I would like to think you would both be glad to help.”
“I’d be glad to help myself to some hot stew.”
The children at the end of the table giggled again.
“Come on, Staples,” Honus said. “If we’re quick about it we can get them all before it gets too cold.” He stood and pulled his friend up with him.
The wind whistled outside as it suddenly became darker in the room.
“You boys better hurry on and git back indoors!” Permilla said as she rubbed her hands together. “That wind’s startin’ to do some real yelling out there.”
Without further coaxing, the two boys left the dining room.
“Eat up kids, then we’re all gittin’ in the cellar.” Miss Permilla said.
“That is a fine idea,” Miss Devinell said.
“Will you tell us ghost stories again?” One of the smaller children asked. “Pleeease?”
“If you all et your food up quick so I can git the kitchen tidy, I shore will.” Miss Permilla said.
The shutter slammed hard against the window frame as the wind took up a menacing moan.
“Perhaps the kitchen can wait until later,” Miss Devinell said as she stood. “We will all take our soup to the cellar and eat there. Follow me please.”
“I’ll follow along behind, Ma’am,” Permilla said. She looked out the window- it was very dark out. “Land sakes it’s gone dark out there! Those boys better hurry on up!” She moved around the table and picked up the two boys’ bowls. “Git moving kids!”
Single file, the children followed the headmistress to the basement, Permilla bringing up the rear.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Honus pushed out the front door as the wind fought to keep it closed. “You go left and I’ll go right,” Honus said over the wind. “Meet you at the chicken coop. We’ll close it up then head inside.” He looked up at the sky. It was dark with clouds that seemed to be boiling.
“Meet ya with the other chickens!” Staples said as he slapped Honus’ shoulder. “Tag, yer it!” He ran to the first window beside the front door and fought to get the shutters closed.
Honus went the opposite direction, latching shutters as he went.
After several minutes of struggling with windows, Honus rounded the corner to the back of the house- a dozen closed windows behind him. Ahead, thanks to a long hallway along the back of the house, there were only three windows left. He leaned forward against the wind and struggled to the first window. The windward side slapped shut so quickly it caught his hand. Honus winced as he pulled his hand from between the shutter and the frame. He leaned back and forced the other shutter to cover the glass. When it was there, he flipped the hasp over its eyelet, giving it a twist to make sure it stayed put.
As he fought to reach the other window, Staples came around the far corner. The wind pushed him almost past the first window in front of him. As he fought with that window, Honus got the middle one secured. He stayed in place as Staples half slid, half ran to him.
“There’s a train coming, Honus!” Staples yelled into his friend’s ear. “Those people are in trouble if they get off!”
“There’s no tracks around us!” Honus yelled back over the wind. He looked up at the pitch-black sky. “Tornado!” He shouted. “It’s a tornado!” He pointed at the chicken coop. “Let’s get in there!” He leaned forward against the wind. “Before we get blown down the block!”
Staples shook his head. “Cellar!” He pointed in the direction Honus had come- there was an outside entrance to the cellar. “Get to the cellar!”
“We’ll never get those doors open!” Honus shouted back. “The coop!” He took a step towards the chicken coop. Something past it caught his eye. It was a piece of heavy wooden fence floating in the air. It seemed to hover in place then disappeared up into the blackness. Honus’ eyes got large when he realized that the fence disappeared into the roiling mass of a monstrous tornado. “Staples!” He shouted. When he looked back, he saw his friend struggling to open the cellar door against the wind. He would get it a couple of inches up, then the wind would slam it down again. He seemed to know better than to try opening the other door- lest he never get it shut again.
The sound was deafening as the tornado approached. Honus leaned forward and rushed to the only cover near him- the chicken coop. He pushed himself through the narrow door then poked his head out and looked for his friend. Staples was now leaning forward against the wind, trying to get to the chicken coop. “Hurry, Staples!”
The wind tilted the coop onto its side, toward Staples. As it did, Honus fell to the far wall. It tumbled again as chickens flew around squawking. “Staples!” He shouted over the din as the coop flipped onto its roof.
As Honus fell forward, he put his hands out to catch himself. Relieved he wasn’t hurt, he flopped over onto his butt, directly over the now-blocked door.
He looked up just as the heavy boards the chickens sat on, fell forward on him.
Chapter 2 - Not Kansas
The witch looked out at the colorful valley from the broad balcony that circled her majestic ivory-white tower. It was tall enough that several clouds passed below where she was standing.
“And I’m not even on the top floor,” she observed with a satisfied tone.
Everything seemed peaceful- just like she liked it. Order and discipline. And quiet.
Especially quiet.
A peal of thunder rumbled past.
Especially quiet, damned it all!
She stalked to a far corner of the balcony and looked into the distance. Far off to the West, the clear blue skies turned dark. Black clouds circled over a similarly dark castle. Flashes of lightning caused the clouds to glow grey and purple as they danced across them. Occasionally a bolt would run jagged to the ground. Where she was sure it disturbed a weed-infested ground without any flowers planted in nice neat rows.
She squinted at the castle.
“You have got to be kidding me.” She said to no one in particular. Particularly because no one was around. She added a long sigh just because she felt it helped establish the mood better. “What are you up to now? That stupid broom just isn’t going to hold any more magic.”
With a flourish of her ample blue skirt, she turned and stalked through the ornate crystal double doors to her bedroom. Her bright blue and lace bedroom. As she passed through, she straightened a vibrant blue pillow on a light blue sofa. She pushed through a pair of swinging crystalline doors into her Scrying Chamber.
Hugging the wall to avoid the large map and realistic, yet tiny model buildings that took up almost the entire area, she made her way to a small staircase that led to a platform. Besides a bright green caldron (it was this year’s black when it came to caldrons), the platform was empty, giving her a clear view of the entire map below.
As they always did, bubbles rose from various parts of the map.
Blue bubbles signified balance in the Ether.
Balance in the Ether was as important as peace and quiet.
Damned important!
Occasional pink bubbles would rise and noiselessly pop- those were minor arguments. The darker they were, the more heated the issue was. She looked at the far corner. Purple bubbles rose steadily from a two-foot tall, exact duplicate castle of the one she had just squinted her eyes at. She squinted her eyes at this one too. Just in case the previous squinting had worn off.
“Honestly; just a week of peace and quiet. Is that too much to ask?” She picked up her long wooden wand and reached out for a purple bubble. As it settled on the end of the wand, she gently pulled it close and peered into it. Inside she could see a female figure dressed in all black robes (black was last year’s black that also worked this year, when it came to robes Especially before Labor Day.). She was bent over a caldron. A black caldron. She was stirring it with a broom handle.
“That broom just will not hold any more magic.” The Blue Witch said again. “You moron,” she added.
She was well aware that of the three adversarial witches that lived nearby, this one was the most persistent.
Which was a problem.
She wasn’t by any means the most powerful, but the Blue Witch was well aware that persistence could make up for lack of talent more often than not. If the witch who lived in the west was able to figure out how to hold more magic in her broom, she would definitely prove to be a threat. And, the Blue Witch thought sourly, she would no longer be able to taunt her with a trite ‘Be gone, you have no power here’ because she would have power. Everywhere. Everywhere her broom would fly her. Which included very tall, above-the-clouds ivory towers.
That was a problem.
Also a problem was the witch in the East who was fairly lazy when it came to magic. With exercise, she was maniacal and determined. Unfortunately, she was also quite talented- at magic. And, as the Blue Witch knew all too well, sometimes talent could make up for a lackadaisical attitude because problems would be solved quickly or even on the first try. That witch was also trying to extend her powers to include the realm of the Blue Witch.
The Blue Witch laughed. “With shoes, no less.”
It was true that the Witch of the East did indeed have a broom and was able to fly on it over most every part of the lands, but that was the extent of its power. Deciding that trying to pack more magic into a broom was a fool’s mission, she decided to use highly conductive silver incorporated into a pair of slippers. They would be easy to carry, simple to use, and more importantly, go with almost everything. Unfortunately, the Witch of the East learned that while silver was an excellent conductor; it did not store Magical Ether for very long- only a matter of hours, in fact.
She grappled with the tradeoff because of aesthetic reasons. But in the end, she had to find another storage option- fashion be damned.
Highly-efficient Magic Ether storing rubies replaced the silver on the shoes. With great success. The tradeoff in this case was that the Witch of the East now needed to make sure she wore something else red: a sash, a ribbon on her pointed hat, or lipstick even, to make sure the outfit pulled together well.
All powerful magic was a great thing. Being able to use it while looking good was even greater.
The greatest, in fact.
Which brought up the very real and all too close danger. The Witch of the South.
The Blue Witch panned her gaze around the map. True enough, there were darker bubbles coming from South as well. Not as dark as the other directions, but that was unfortunately because the Witch of the South had already perfected her Magic Ether Talisman- a crystalline star pendant. If the other two of the Cardinal Witch Coven ever got their projects working properly, the Blue Witch knew her days were numbered.
In single digits.
As a self-identified Good Witch (good was this year’s black), this caused problems as the outright killing of another Witch (Especially of the same Coven) was frowned upon and would definitely be addressed at the annual Witches and Warlocks Extravaganza (where you only needed the edge of the bench it was so exciting).
Throttling all three of the witches with her bare hands was very near the top of her ‘Things I’d love to do to those stinking Cardinal Witch Coven witches if I could get away with it and not have to pay a fine and listen to a lecture at the WWE event’ list.
Of course, the only reason it wasn’t at the top was because by the time she wrote ‘Things I’d love to do to those stinking Cardinal Witch Coven witches if I could get away with it and not have to pay a fine and listen to a lecture at the WWE event’ on the parchment, ‘Choke the life out of each and every one of them with my bare hands while I stare into their eyes until they go stone cold’ was two lines down.
