Dragon Removal Service Page 9

  "Like girlfriends?" Hubward asked. He swallowed.

  "Yes, ignore them and they'll go away. Can you promise me you'll eat a fruit or vegetable twice a week."

  "You can't eat something twice," Hubward blurted out.

  Ninestone frowned. She reached into her basket and pulled out a packet of seeds. She handed it to him. "Okay, try this. Sometimes the food you grow tastes better. It's time for you to put down some roots, Hubward. Time to stop running and hiding."

  Hubward took the seeds. Vegetables, he thought. Yuck. Maybe he could feed them to a pig, and eat his vegetables indirectly.

  "What kind are they?" he asked tremulously.

  "Pumpkin, naturally," Ninestone said.

  And she was startled, when, despite the clank and spray of the busy fizz factory, Ninestone clearly heard the sound of seven cats barking.

  " . . . I mean, I was amazed. Who would build stairs that way, with no guardrails, or handholds, or anything. A gust of wind would knock you right off. I'm just saying if I had to carry laundry from one spot to another, a walkway over a gaping chasm would be my last choice."

  -The Collected Lies of Gulchima Brixby

  (70/100: A Good Point)

  Chapter 16: Gulchima and the Heartless Geyser Ghosts

  According to her plan, Gulchima was supposed to be defeating the wonder worms right now. That was first on her list.

  They were worms after all. How hard could it be to capture silk worms—even wonder worms, whatever that meant? She'd brought spiders. She'd brought live carp. She had a barrel of frogs waiting.

  Her master plan was to start with wonder worms, then the trangles, then the haunted woods. Rattbone and Isolde would take care of the regular construction jobs, while Gulchima figured things out.

  Once she got the hang of things, Gulchima would move on to the more dangerous geyser ghosts, and the fizz fairies, and whatever else. Somebody had mentioned Bayadev had lunkers, but that would be easy, since she'd done those before at the bridge. The dragon would be last.

  But Lady Keyhide had called a meeting, and Lady Keyhide ran the burgh. She was Jaroo's boss. So instead of following her plan, Gulchima was here, at the geysers with the ghosts, getting screamed at.

  That's how it went with construction. If the client wanted a meeting, you had to go. They yelled, you listened. Then you went right back to doing whatever it was you were doing before. But you had to let them yell.

  So Lady Keyhide had yelled, then Jaroo had lectured. They were "deeply concerned" about the progress. They couldn't cancel the contract yet, but they could make Gulchima's life "quite difficult, naturally". At last, Gulchima had convinced them to give her a chance. She'd gone off and grabbed the two people who had to help her: Isolde and Novvy.

  Now, Gulchima, Isolde, and Novvy were back at the geysers.

  But this time they had an audience.

  "Gulchimaaa . . . joinnnn . . . usssssss," a ghost crooned. It was just visible in the spray of mist. The ghost looked like her mother. At least that's what Gulchima saw. Isolde saw something different.

  "Quick, Isolde, stare at the ghost farthest on the left," Gulchima barked. "Do you see it?"

  "I saw it last time. I see it now," Isolde said. "This is a stupid plan."

  "It will work if you stop blinking," Gulchima said. She stumbled over a mound of mud as she sidled three steps to the right. But she didn't look down. She couldn't.

  "I have hot stinky geyser gas wafting in my face," Isolde replied. "Why don't you come over here and 'stop blinking'."

  The ghost screamed. Not the spooky, startling, come-hither-and-investigate kind of scream. The ghost was scared. It slid toward the geyser.

  Almost there . . .

  "See! It's working!" Gulchima said. "I figure the ghosts are people that got killed in the geysers. They hate geysers. Whenever one erupts, they scatter away from it."

  "So?"

  "So if the ghosts are afraid of something, it's dangerous to them. We'll use the geysers to get rid of the ghosts."

  That was step two. Step one was capturing them.

  As you moved toward a ghost, it slid away from you, luring you into danger. That was the geyser ghost rule, she supposed. It always slid away from you.

  But what if three people looked at a ghost at the same time, from different directions? What if they circled around the ghost, and then opened their eyes? It wouldn’t be able to slide away. It would be trapped.

  In essence, your eyes were like frozen ropes, holding the ghost in place. You could push it ahead, by stepping forward. You could pull it towards you, by walking backwards.

  But Gulchima didn't have three people, she only had two. And even if she had ten people, it was difficult to communicate in the geyser basin, and too dangerous to approach the ghosts from the opposite side. There was too much hot scalding death over there. So Gulchima had modified her plan. Now, it was all about triangles.

  If Gulchima and Isolde stared at the ghost and walked toward it at the same pace, the ghost would have to slide away. But only in the direction they chose. They were three points of a triangle, after all. So Gulchima could make the ghost slide any direction she wanted. By stepping to her left or her right, she could move the ghost a few feet to either side. By stepping forward in unison, they could push the ghost back.

  "This makes no sense whatsoever," Isolde said. "Triangles? Geysers? Just sub-contract this out like they want and we can—"

  "We're almost there," Gulchima said.

  Gulchima took one half step to her left. Then she smiled. She had maneuvered the ghost directly over the geyser. It struggled, waved its hands wildly.

  Five, four, three, two . . .

  Bloop. The ghost slid away from the edge of the geyser.

  Isolde had blinked. Again. Another failure.

  "Okay, let's take a break," Gulchima said in a chipper tone she did not really feel. Her face felt clammy from all the steam. And Sweet Sorcerer she was thirsty.

  Isolde coughed theatrically. "Sounds good. But I thought you were going to take care of the magic alone, and I'll take care of the construction. That was what we agreed when you talked me into this contract."

  "I need help this one time," Gulchima replied. "I can't ask anyone else."

  "I thought Uncle Rattbone got you help," Isolde said. She wiped at her eyes. "That Hobart boy. The orphan."

  "Hubward? He's working," Gulchima lied. She would not become bosom buddies with that helpful ragamuffin just because they were the same age. She would not let Uncle Rattbone hire a friend for her. "You know, this will go a lot faster if Novvy could help—"

  "Novvy stays on the safe path," Isolde said flatly. "That's one promise I won't let you break."

  "Suits me," Gulchima said, coldly. "I can do this all day."

  Gulchima walked back over to the path marked with white rocks, then took a sip of water from her drinking horn. Novvy stood by Lady Keyhide and Jaroo. Novvy was babbling about something and holding Lady Keyhide's hand.

  Lady Keyhide's face was painted with red cinnabar and ash. She was the Burgher-Meister, what a town would call a mayor, or what Novvy called, "the biggest spider in your apple cider".

  The cape-like palla she wore was shredded evenly along one edge. Were the cuts in her clothes a sign of mourning? Or was that simply vermillion paint?

  "—then, I almost fell on my maple tubs," Novvy finished.

  "Your what?" Lady Keyhide asked. She was trying, desperately, not to smile. Her heavily painted face had developed a crack just below the left cheekbone.

  "Maple tubs," Novvy repeated. He slapped his bottom with both hands.

  "You mean your . . . butt?" Lady Keyhide asked.

  "No! Isolde said I can only say 'butt' when I take a bath," Novvy explained. "Otherwise I have to say 'bottom' not 'butt'."

  "But you said maple tubs," Lady Keyhide replied. Her mouth twitched.

  "Yeah, I asked about 'ham-hock', but Isolde said that was naughty, so I asked about 'maple tubs' and she sai
d it was ok, since most people wouldn't understand what I meant." He looked around, conspiratorially, then whispered, "It means butt."

  Jaroo mopped his brow. "Lady Keyhide, I must insist we finalize our modifications on the contract—"

  Lady Keyhide waved him into silence. She reached into her side satchel, then leaned over Novvy. "Would you like a lollipop?"

  "Does a lion want to eat your face first?" Novvy asked.

  "What?" Lady Keyhide asked, drawing back.

  "He means yes," Gulchima explained. "Novvy, remember if you talk too much, you'll drop your lolly."

  Novvy took the candy with two hands, then focused intently on eating it.

  Lady Keyhide took out a small ball of amber, cradling it to cool her hands. "How goes it?" she asked Gulchima, in an unfriendly voice.

  "We had one ghost on the line, but I slipped and lost it," Gulchima said.

  Lady Keyhide grunted. "I am a busy woman. What is your expected deadline?"

  "Soon."

  Jaroo broke in. "Soon before lunch? Soon in the next week? When is soon?"

  Gulchima crossed her arms. "I had planned on the wonder worms first. That is all prepped and ready. You just need to wait and I'll get to it."

  Jaroo started to speak, but Lady Keyhide shushed him.

  "And those woods?" Lady Keyhide asked. "Why haven't they been burned? Or is lighting a fire not on your list either."

  "I was just on my way to burn them, when I got your message," Gulchima replied. "I will take care of that next."

  Jaroo sighed. "It has been over an hour, Lady Keyhide, and the ghosts remain. No work has been done. Perhaps now is the time to discuss renegotiating the contract?" He stuck out his lower lip. "As we discussed. Earlier."

  Lady Keyhide passed the amber ball from hand to hand. She stared hard at Gulchima. "I understood you had experience with these things. Perhaps we can find you some help. I know a wonderful up-and-coming orphan. And what an inspiration he is." She smiled at Jaroo, who smiled back dutifully. When she turned from him, Jaroo scowled.

  "Hubward is working today," Gulchima said. "Unfortunately."

  Lady Keyhide loosened her grip on the amber ball. "So you know him? Wondrous. I shall send Hubward over to help you. He is such an inspiring young man, don't you think?"

  Gulchima swallowed her sarcastic reply. "Mmhm," she said.

  "It's a shame you’re not an orphan," Lady Keyhide said. "Isn't that a shame Jaroo?"

  "Yes, Lady Keyhide," Jaroo said in a strained voice.

  "Oh? How's that?" Gulchima asked coldly. This was not going well at all. Getting angry wouldn’t help.

  "Well orphans make for more interesting stories. More drama," Lady Keyhide said. "Whereas you, with your stable quasi-family, loving uncles, business prospects. I mean what's really at stake for you here? It's just a job. You don't seem too invested."

  Just a job? What about Prison? Forced Conscription? Death?

  "Well my parents are in prison," Gulchima said. "If we get this job done on time, I'd have enough money to bribe—I mean, pay, their restitution."

  Lady Keyhide narrowed her eyes. "In prison for what?"

  "Destroying magical objects," Gulchima lied.

  "Really?" Lady Keyhide suddenly looked interested. "Destroying magic?"

  "Sure. It's a family tradition dating back to my great-great-grandmother. She was a witch-hunter. Glinda-Eater-Of-Troll."

  "A witch-hunter!" Lady Keyhide clapped. "Jaroo you didn't tell me they had a family tradition to destroy magic. That's much more inspiring. My paradigm has shifted. Absolutely! Gulchima, can you teach me how to do it? Let's set up a lunch meeting."

  "Sure. You'll just have to wait until I take care of those worms—"

  Lady Keyhide raised her eyebrows. "Wait? You understand my grandson was lured into the woods by those wicked ghosts. The ghosts are still here, the woods are still here. Yet you tell me to wait."

  Gulchima stammered. No wonder Lady Keyhide was angry. "Is he all right? Your grandson?"

  Lady Keyhide turned toward her. "He hasn't spoken since. But he's alive. I thought if those woods were destroyed . . . " She gripped the ball of amber tightly, making her fingers white and pink. "He's Novvy's age."

  Gulchima thought about it. Now Lady Keyhide's standoffishness made sense. So did her bubbling anger. She wanted to help her grandson. Or at least to destroy what had hurt him.

  Sure, Jaroo had signed the contract, but Lady Keyhide controlled things. She wanted something done-on-the-run, but to do the job correctly, Gulchima needed one more person . . . Maybe she could kill two river-hags with one potato.

  "Help us," Gulchima said.

  "What?"

  "Can you help us catch the ghosts? Avenge your grandson's injury? Destroy magic? We need a third, and I don't want to send my brother out there."

  Lady Keyhide looked surprised. "I would . . . I would love that. I can hear those stupid things from my window at night."

  "You said lunch meeting?" Gulchima threw a dried strip of fruit to her. "How about right now?"

  Jaroo cleared his throat. "There are no reports of Gulchima's family destroying magical objects. Lady Keyhide, this negotiation may be compromised."

  "I don't care," Lady Keyhide said. She bit into the fruit strip. "This Outfit has spunk. They hate magic. You heard the girl's story about growing up to be a witch-hunter. Trained since birth. Did you see that glint in her eye? It's inspiring. She is what we need, and you, Jaroo, you should focus on the fizz factory problems."

  Jaroo frowned. "Yes, Lady Keyhide."

  Lady Keyhide bustled away from him, and followed Gulchima into the geyser basin. There, they met up with Isolde.

  Gulchima explained how it worked. To her surprise, Lady Keyhide understood the geometry immediately, and she jogged over into the mist without being told.

  "Okay, let's start with that ghost in the center near the mud pot, do you see it?" Lady Keyhide asked.

  Gulchima did. With Isolde on her left and Lady Keyhide on her right, it was much easier. As long as two of them stared at the ghost, it couldn't move.

  After a minute of fine tuning, Gulchima took three large steps forward, and the ghost was shoved over the geyser opening. And just in time.

  Five, four, three, two—

  With a fffff-thawump the geyser cannoned the ghost high into the air, launching it into a cloud. The ghost moaned, then screamed, then waved its arms frantically. It looked like a mix of a devilishly handsome lumberjack, her mother, and a mug of hot chocolate.

  But once it reached the cloud, the ghost dissipated.

  "What happened?" Lady Keyhide yelled. "Is it dead? Can a ghost be dead?"

  "Clouds are cages for ghosts," Gulchima explained. She had heard this once, and apparently, it was true. "Everyone knows that’s what clouds are made of: Ghosts. I thought the geyser would kill it, but this is even better. Ghost jail."

  Lady Keyhide clapped. "Ghost jail," she said. "I like that." Her makeup had cracked along her eyes, the red on her cheeks ran down her face like warpaint. "And I really liked that part with the thawump sound, didn't you like it Jaroo."

  "Yes, Lady Keyhide," Jaroo called from behind them.

  After that, it went quickly. In a short time, Lady Keyhide, Gulchima and Isolde had wrangled all the ghosts, and sent them flying.

  The last ghost was trying to hide, and all but refused to entice them. It wasn't waving, or saying, "Gulchimaaaaa, come joooooooin usssss." Instead, it crouched down, and said in a low, mumbling voice, "Well, umm, not much for you to see here, really. May as well go away. Please. Go away now."

  Then the geyser erupted and the last ghost flew up, into the air, and was gone.

  "I like the noises they make," Lady Keyhide said again. "Just after they get hit." She stared out into the geyser basin, and did not blink. "I'm going to sleep good tonight."

  Novvy wandered over to her. He reached out to grab hold of her hand, then asked, "Have I told you about how awesome I am?"

  Ch
apter 17: Hubward Meets a Man-of-Arms

  Hubward didn't like to sneak around the fizz factory by himself, but the rest of his magical team was acting up. The mention of pumpkins, and all the free magic floating around the fizz factory caverns, had them riled up. So he went it alone.

  Officially, he had a note from Lady Keyhide telling him to gather some things, and then go to the haunted woods to meet Gulchima. Unofficially, he was snooping.

  The hallway he'd wandered into was abandoned. Old hand-cranked fizz factory machines, cobwebbed and half repaired, were pushed up against the wall. Crates were stacked haphazardly, and a pair of old brooms covered a small deep hole in the floor. The hole smelled damp, and cool air whistled up through it. There were no torches, but—flip—Hubward didn't need torches to see.

  He had magic hidden in his hair.

  Everything was coated with dust, to the point that Hubward became suspicious. An abandoned hallway! Old machines? The Sorcerer was so predictable.

  When he came to a dead-end, Hubward touched a brick with his elbow in the usual way, and a doorway appeared. It was obvious how to enter, so Hubward did, noting the door moved noiselessly. It had been oiled recently.

  Hubward looked in and catalogued the room's interior. On the scorched wooden table were glass vials and powder-tins, each neatly aligned and arranged by size. Below the table were piles of mesh, some clean, some crammed with yellow cake-like mixture. On the far side of the room was a fireplace that heated a vat of bubbling inky black liquid, one shade darker than regular black. And there, against the wall, behind the growling green creature, was a red and white candy-striped overstuffed chair, holding a massive pile of books, each—

  —But then Hubward stopped cataloguing. Green creature?

  A horrible, headless, eight-armed creature towered over him. It held a hatchet in one hand, a metal ruler in the other, and it stood unsteadily on two legs.

  A large broad nose, nearly two feet wide, protruded from the center of its chest. It had no eyes or mouth, and no head to put them in anyway, but each booger-caked nostril whistled foul air at him. Its green nose hairs were as long as Hubward's awesome haircut, the front-flip.