Letter XIII (Foof to Cordy)

Dear Cordy,

How is it possible that, even though miles apart, we are under such similar circumstances? And all because of those wretched, wretched stones! How I wish they would just disappear again! Sorry dearest, if you’ve discovered their secret and have some deep dark purpose planned for them, such as banishing all secretive and bossy fathers, deceptive childhood friends, and tall, pompous, recently-delegated-to-the-office-of-Master former mentors. And, of course, any creation to have the misfortune of gracing Lady Lucinda’s bulbous head. Forgive my not-so-light jesting, but I’ve had enough of this!

Yes, I’m blessing our muse every day, almost every moment. To be in this predicament is bad enough, but to be in it without your support and empathy would be intolerable! I sound as though I’m going through a horrible ordeal. While it is terrible in some ways, it could be much worse. I just miss you terribly and worry for you even more.

Allow me to relate the events of my travel.

Captivity: Day One

After sending off the muse with my letter, I fell into a long, deep sleep, the kind I later realized could only be brought about by magic. Had I not needed it so badly, I would have been livid.

I awoke to the sound of heavy rain and the pressure of warm lips covering mine. Shaking off the last of the sleep enchantment, I became aware of someone pushing quickly away from me and making a strange noise. I looked over to see the muse spitting with great vigor and pretending to vomit intermittently. I shoved my blanket back and jumped up.

“You kissed me?” I yelled. “Why on earth would you kiss me?”

He turned a nasty look towards me. “Don’t flatter yourself, missy! I’ve been trying to wake you and deliver your precious letter for the last fifteen minutes. I tried everything in the book except ‘The Last Resort’ so I decided to give it a whirl.”

“Ugh!” I said, wiping my mouth. “Disgusting!”

“Agreed,” he snapped, “but let's focus on the task at hand. Here’s your letter, as promised. Now sit down while I instruct you in the fine art of Troll Tea, one of my culinary specialties and a dying art among non-Trolls, I might add.” He hovered in the air in front of me, warming up to his lecture. “You don’t know how lucky you are, do you? Why, any other muse sticks only to transformation, transportation, and transapplication, but not me. I like to cover all the subjects, not the least of which is domestic studies.” He pushed his sleeves up and rubbed his hands together. “Did I ever tell you about….”

I stopped listening at that point. Rude of me, yes, but I did have a letter to read. I’m so grateful to you that I had such astounding news to occupy my thoughts while he rambled on and on. When he finally got around to the tea, I was starving and practically begging him to teach me the whole process, Troll method or not, which pleased him immensely.

What pleased me immensely was the state of the wagon, bumpy ride or not. Although the decorating is atrocious and too brightly colored for my tastes, it is also highly comfortable. There is a large and sumptuous bed with lush velvet pillows that occupies nearly one half of the wagon. The other half is devoted entirely to the taking of tea. A large assortment of wildly painted teapots and teacups grace one entire wall while the other wall holds an equally vast assortment of tinned biscuits and other delicacies. There's a tiny table that folds out from the wall, which, when propped up, fits between two large, velvety chairs.

Just as I sank into one of the chairs and began to polish off a plate of chocolate munches, the wagon came to a stop. I had almost forgotten about Sean and that he had been driving us this whole time through pouring rain. I thought about inviting him in for tea, but I wasn't sure he'd come. Before, when he'd explained that he was kidnapping me according to my father's orders, I might have said a few things I shouldn't (as I'm sure you can imagine).

But I thought I should give it a try anyway. I stood on the bed and pulled back the heavy curtain that covered the little window to the driver’s seat and knocked sharply. Moments later, the window opened and the upper part of Sean’s face appeared.

“You knocked?” he said in a flat voice. I don’t blame him. Considering the things I'd said to him once I discovered what he and Father were up to, and even a Justicum Saint would have been cross with me.

“Oh…er, yes, I did. I…er,” I stammered. You know how I flustered I get after a confrontation, especially when I’ve said things I shouldn’t. I cleared my throat and started again. “There are some very nice tea things here. I was wondering if you’d like to come out of the rain and have some.”

He looked back at me in silence before shutting the window. I turned to survey the room in a sudden panic. I had invited him without really thinking things through. I managed to coax Muse to disappear for a little while—he promptly changed himself into a purple and green striped teapot with orange eyes on either side of the spout—and straightened out the bed, picking up all the decorative pillows that I'd pushed off during sleep back onto the mattress. Moments later, there was a knock on the door next to the fold-up table. I opened it to find Sean standing there, bone dry.

“Why…you’re completely dry!” I exclaimed.

“Magic does come in handy, doesn’t it?” he said wryly as he entered the wagon.

“To think I was worried about you out there in the pouring rain.”

“Shall I go back out?”

“No,” I said quickly, not wanting to argue again, even though I was still upset about being deceived and kidnapped. “It's fine. You can stay if you want.”

We stood there awkwardly for a moment, looking at each other. At least, I tried to keep my eyes on him instead of glancing over to the bed which suddenly seemed huge for some reason, like it was the only piece of furniture in the room. What was I thinking inviting him into what was essentially my bedroom? Finally, he cleared his throat and said, “You mentioned tea?”

“Oh, yes, tea,” I repeated. I sank into one of the chairs and gestured for him to take the other.

The tea had grown cold so I whispered a spell to warm it up before pouring. Sean made a faintly disapproving sound as I finished and picked up the teapot. I poured the tea and set the pot down.

“What?” I asked.

“Nothing,” he said, shrugging. “Please continue.”

“No, you don't like how I warmed the tea and I want to know why.”

“It's nothing,” he insisted.

“Come on,” I pressed, “don't make it weird.”

He shifted in his seat, looking uncomfortable. “Fine. It's just hard not to notice that spells from the Realm are all the same. They all have the same basic structure.”

“And that annoys you?” I asked, “Sugar or cream?”

“Both, please,” he said. “I wouldn't say that it annoys me, it just lacks foresight.”

I handed him his cup and a plate. “That sounds interesting. Are you going to explain?”

He sighed, deciding whether or not to indulge me. “Well, it's just that,” he paused, still deliberating. I could hear his teeth grinding. Then he sat forward and it all came out in a rush. “It's just that your spells are so easy to pick apart. Take, for example, your spell component for stability. I swear, nearly half of the spells you students from the Academy learn include the stability component. What happens when someone dissolves that part of your spell?”

“Uh...it falls apart?” I answered, not knowing if the question was rhetorical or not.

“Exactly!” he answered.

“Yes, except that's why we include it, you know, so it doesn't fall apart.”

“Of course,” he agreed. “But what do you think would happen if you went head to head with a magi from Nirabia or Ramarda? If you attacked with a fireball spell, he wouldn't even try to block it, he'd just reach in and dissolve the stability component and then watch while your fireball went to pieces.”

“Oh,” I said, not knowing what else to say.

“Of course that's an unlikely scenario,” he added hastily, “even if the borders between countries weren't closed. Which is why I was reluctant to even mention it.” He accepted a biscuit and dipped it into his tea. “It's just good to be aware,” he mumbled before popping the entire biscuit into his mouth.

“Awareness is good,” I replied, dunking my own biscuit and trying to ignore Muse whose spout was twitching back and forth. “Like being aware that you're not actually going back to the city like you thought.”

“I told you I was sorry about that,” he said, staring at me over the top of his teacup.

“I know, but can't you understand my situation? I'm helpless to do anything.”

“You must trust us in this, and most particularly your father. He knows what he’s doing and, as I said before, he’s gone to Imperial City to take care of things personally. Everything is going to be fine.”

“If everything’s going to be fine then why can’t I stay with Grandmother Coqui?”

Sean cocked one eyebrow. “I think you already know the answer to that, Foofri.”

I sighed. “More tea?”

He stared at me for a moment, then smiled. “Please.”

Our conversation was still a trifle awkward, but as I did feel better knowing that Father was coming to your aid, I tried to be pleasant. Apparently, Sean’s planning to take me to the Outskirts by way of the Shazar pass, which we should reach by nightfall. Early tomorrow morning, we’ll begin the journey through the pass (I sleep in the wagon while Sean sleeps on top of it).

I admit to some curiosity about the pass. We’ve always been warned about it, but then we've always been warned about Trolls, too, and so far, even though I haven't actually met one yet, they don't seem to be that horrible. Sean seems to think there is no great danger in traveling through the pass “As long as you stay aware,” he says, which sounds like there's another lecture in my future.

I’ve had thoughts of keeping a journal of my adventures in hopes of publishing a short, but thrilling, memoir. Please advise me on this.

I will most certainly send you regular updates, provided my muse returns on time (don’t panic if a Trollish looking teapot appears) and I expect the same from you. At the risk of sounding callous, I am seriously wondering whose experience will be the most exciting! Please take care, as will I.

Affectionately,
Foofri

P.S. While being extremely comfortable, the Troll wagon kept everyone on the road away from us. Oh, and the wagon is the same one we always saw camped just outside the village green during the summer. Father’s, apparently!

P.P.S. I suggest you carry around a dressing gown at all times.

P.P.P.S. If Sean has a way of communicating with the Underground, rest assured, I will do my best to discover that method.

P.P.P.P.S. I’m so glad your cold is better.