Shadow Wrack. Kim Thompson
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very short men. Dwarves, to be precise, all looking at her with dark, unblinking eyes. They were uncannily garden gnomish, only missing the red caps. And they were definitely not human; their heads were massive, easily three times human size. The only thing keeping their big heads and huge hands from tipping them right over was the immense size of their feet. They were grimy and unkempt, in ancient leather garments and very muddy boots.
“Um … hello,” Willa ventured. They didn’t answer, just stared at her with those black button eyes. Unnerved, she turned back to Robert. “Listen, you won’t be roommates for too long. As soon as they build the first few rooms of the house, you can move in.” She looked to the dwarves. “Right?”
Some head-scratching, foot-shuffling, sideways glances, shaking of heads.
“No?” Willa raised an eyebrow.
The dwarves all looked to the one with the longest beard and most ornately embroidered jacket. Apparently the leader, he stepped up and looked very sternly at Willa, gesturing to himself and the other dwarves.
“When the first rooms are built, you’ll move in?” Willa put her hands on her hips. The dwarf leader crossed his arms defiantly. They regarded one another for a moment or two until Willa gave in.
“All right. You can be the first to move in, but only if you make the stable more secure before you begin on the house.” She gestured to the collapsed back wall of the stable, which Tengu and Robert had propped up with charred beams they’d pulled from the wreckage of the house. She’d always felt it was on the brink of falling down again. The dwarf leader walked over and gave it a long inspection. Then he nodded and held out a large hand. Willa shook it, her own hand disappearing in his rough grip.
“Okay,” Willa announced. “The dwarves will make the stable safe and then work on the house. They’ll be the first to move into the house, and then they’ll work on it extra fast.” She looked pointedly at the leader, but he kept his poker face. The other dwarves averted their eyes. One examined his blackened nails.
Willa was not filled with confidence, but at least Robert had calmed down. He backed into his corner of the stable and sat down, glowering. Willa looked up to see Mab whispering into Sarah’s ear. Sarah snapped her clipboard shut, put the quill pen behind her ear, and flew down to report.
“Our Supremely Serene Queen will allow this intrusion, but only on a temporary basis.”
“Thank you, Mab,” smiled Willa. She turned to the corner. “And you, Robert?”
“For you, Willa, I will put up with them,” he sniffed. “But I’m not going to like it.”
Chapter Two
In which the dwarves begin work and the phoenix drives everyone up the wall
“Why dwarves?” asked Willa when next she saw Horace. They were sitting at the lookout on Hanlan’s Hill, in the wooded park at the edge of town. Horace had his binoculars out and was scanning the sky for birds.
“Who better?” he answered. “Dwarves have been blacksmiths since the very dawn of time, but when the market for horseshoes declined, they branched out into all the trades. They’re marvellous workers, loyal, good-hearted …”
“I’m not sure how a crew of fairy-tale dwarves is going to help us keep a low profile in the neighbourhood,” Willa sighed.
At this Horace could only shrug and grin. Willa gazed at the town below, her mind awhirl with anxious thoughts about unreliable construction dwarves and how angry Robert would be if he had to spend the winter in the stable. And about what Mab might do. And her algebra quiz on Friday. And when Mom might have a total meltdown over their houseguests.
“Horace, what do you know about Belle before she came to Eldritch Manor?”
Horace thought for a moment. “Nothing at all. She’s not much for … sharing.”
Willa snorted. “You can say that again. Belle is the most unsharing person I’ve ever met!”
High above, large birds were circling. In the woods a flock of little birds lifted and skittered across her sight. Far out on the ocean, a cloud of seagulls rose and dropped behind the fishing boats. She took a deep breath. Thinking about her Grandpa out there on the water made her smile.
“Lots of birds about,” she ventured. “What are those ones way up high? Some kind of hawk?”
Horace trained his binoculars on them, nodding eagerly. “Yes, those are … those are …” He lowered the binoculars, frowning. “Drat. It’s right on the tip of my tongue. Just a moment, I’ll remember.”
Willa waited, watching as he put a palm to his forehead. A long moment passed.
“It’s all right, I was just wondering,” she said gently.
“No, no! I know this! Why can’t I remember?” His voice was agitated, and he looked away.
Poor Horace, thought Willa.
During the “troubles,” the Horace she knew had disappeared, gone with his memory into some black hole in his brain while his body continued to wander aimlessly about. He didn’t seem to know who he was or what was going on around him. Willa didn’t know much about diseases of the mind — dementia, was it called? She had no idea if it was reversible, but in Horace’s case, after the battle he’d suddenly snapped out of it and was himself again. Mostly. He still had these little memory lapses over insignificant things. It was all very normal, but it upset him terribly.
They were interrupted just then by some old-timers heading their way in single file, white-haired gentlemen and ladies in a flush of khaki and hiking boots, walking sticks and binoculars in hand. Birders. These were Horace’s new friends, a gaggle of seniors who shared his avian obsession. Willa smiled, bade Horace a quick goodbye, and started down the path to town. She didn’t want to get trapped in an endless discussion about how to tell one little brown bird apart from another little brown bird.
She was glad that Horace was mingling with real people, though — real, mortal humans. Maybe that was the secret to his regained grasp on reality. At any rate, she was glad she didn’t have to worry about him.
“Hello, Willa,” said a familiar voice.
Willa jumped. It was Mr. Hacker, nosy next-door-neighbour extraordinaire, with his wife right behind him. Willa wasn’t used to seeing them smiling. They were more often than not scowling over the fence at her. Willa smiled, said hello, and hurried on. They’re in this group too? The two people we most want to steer clear of? She’d probably have to check in on the birders from time to time now, just to make sure the Hackers weren’t prying. What would they do if they ever saw Horace the androsphinx magically transforming into a lion? Willa sighed. Another item added to the things-to-worry-about list.
Work began at the house. Overnight the dwarves banged together a high plywood fence around the lot to block the view from the street … and from the Hackers, who were in a state of apoplexy.
“It’s an eyesore!” burbled Mrs. Hacker.
“Brings down the tone of the whole neighbourhood,” harrumphed Mr. Hacker.
Willa had Horace talk to them. He applied some smooth talk about high-priced architects and how posh the new house would look. The fence was only temporary, of course, a necessary evil of construction. One must keep small children from wandering in and falling into holes.
Horace did such a job on Mr. Hacker that even when the fence was covered in graffiti, he shrugged it off with a lack of concern that left his wife speechless. For a day, anyway. Then she focused her laser beam eye of disapproval on the workers.
“I never see them arrive. I never see them leave. It’s all very mysterious!” she announced to Willa on the street.
“They work long hours. And there’s, um, lodging