Chapter 5 #3
The old man flushed and lifted one narrow thigh over the other, folding the muslin fabric of his bathrobe delicately over his lap. “I used to have a walking stick too, fashioned out of an old crowbar my uncle left me.”
“I sold my magic sword,” Katherine said. “But it was for a good cause. Elvish boots.”
“Mmm. Elvish footwear is the best.”
Ruben continued to stroke Ember gently, and Katherine was beginning to wonder whether she had judged him too harshly, when her reverie was broken by a rapid clicking.
Katherine turned to see Mrs. Chrysler’s hands working feverishly, a wide strip of knitwear steadily unfurling from blurred fingers.
The needles were gone from her hair and the blue yarn ball she’d pulled from her bag was shrinking swiftly as she kept her handiwork at arm’s length from the trio of highly interested cats.
“What are you doing, Imogene?”
“What does it look like I’m doing, Katty? All this talk of battle vests and ponchos and caftans. I ask you. What this man needs right now is a scarf.” Mrs. Chrysler jerked her chin in Ruben’s direction. “A long one. With good coverage.”
The old man sighed. “Thank you, Mrs. C. My, you work fast.”
It’s magic, you dolt, Tilly said, undecided as to what she wanted to thwack more, the yarn ball or the top of his head.
Now, now, Ember said, still letting the old man pet her fur.
Ruben checked the bottom of his mug, but there wasn’t any mead left. Katherine poured a bit of her cider in. “Thank you,” he said softly.
They sat in silence for a while, except for the steady clacking of Mrs. Chrysler’s knitting needles.
“So, you were a forger?” Katherine asked, swishing her cider in her mug and watching his face. “In the land of Pim? ‘Where paperwork is king’?”
“Oh, yes.” Ruben gulped down the cider she’d given him. “That’s what makes it so impressive, doesn’t it?” He mustered a weak, self-satisfied smile. “Had my own notary stamp and everything. Granted, I didn’t use it much.”
Katherine regarded him quizzically, and Mrs. Chrysler shot him a glance while she worked. “How did you get a notary stamp?” she asked.
Ruben’s blue eyes lit up and his jaw set.
“Magical loophole, that’s how,” he said.
“Or so it was explained to me. That was the only magical item I ever owned. They’re so expensive.
” Katherine nodded, and he went on. “It had been a genuine notary stamp, imbued by a sorcerer and all, and was reset by a down-on-her-luck mage. One-of-a-kind, I guess. But she really needed the money, and there weren’t as many takers as she thought, I suppose, so I got a really good deal. ”
Katherine shot Mrs. Chrysler a look. “That’s really dangerous, Ruben,” she said, vacillating between impressed and incredulous. “Can you imagine what the punishment would be, if you’d been caught with an item like that? How did you even find this mage?”
“I met her in a pub… This one, actually. And she made it so the magic would recognize me as its user and it would stamp just like the real thing. And since I was notarizing signatures I also forged––ha, ha, magical loophole!” He clapped his hands on the table and beamed.
“Congratulations,” Mrs. Chrysler muttered.
Katherine noted her friend’s skeptical tone. “I don’t know, Ruben,” she added carefully. “You didn’t pay much for this thing? Sounds like maybe you got a flopper.”
“A what?” Ruben’s brow furrowed.
“An item that seems to be magical but is really just an illusion,” Mrs. Chrysler explained as she knitted.
“What? No, no, it was the real thing,” Ruben said. Mrs. Chrysler shrugged her brows.
“So, where is the stamp now?” Katherine asked. “That seems like a pretty valuable item for a professional forger to have in a bureautocracy.”
“Oh, well, like I said, I didn’t have that many chances to use it. And, uh, things being what they were…” Ruben pushed a hand through his hair again and closely studied the woodwork of the table rather than meeting her gaze.
“He hocked it,” Mrs. Chrysler guessed, not looking up. Ruben nodded sullenly.
“For a good price?”
Ruben grimaced. “Well, it would only work for me, remember. And, by then, so many years later… I couldn’t remember the mage’s name… Or maybe I never knew her name? Anyhow, I never met another down-on-their-luck mage… So, I… I told the pawn dealer it was a family heirloom.” He grimaced again.
Katherine pursed her lips, to keep from saying something unpleasant, and her friend interceded.
“Well, it’s all in the past now,” Mrs. Chrysler said, clipping the last loose strand of her yarn and tucking her scissors into their sheath in her bosom.
“There. Try this on for size.” She passed the knitwear over the table and tidied what remained of the skein before repacking it in her bag.
“I don’t think we’ll be in need of lake and ocean colors for a while anyway. ”
With this last comment sailing over his head, Ruben took the scarf gratefully and wrapped it round his neck, the ends cascading down his front and his back. The fringe reached his knees. “Oh, Mrs. C. It’s wonderful.” He wiped his nose on his sleeve and cleared his throat. “Thank you.”
Katherine hastily passed him one of her spare handkerchiefs.
Mrs. Chrysler gathered her hair back into an untidy bun and shoved the needles aggressively through it.
“Oh, it’s nothing,” she said. “Will keep me from having to see your nethers from now on.” She stole a quick glance at his delighted face and fussed a bit more with her yarn.
“It is absolutely incredible,” Ruben said, absently stroking the thick blue wool of his new scarf. “To think that I… that Mr. Splint… could have, that he… And you, you… Well, you thought—all these years…”
“It’s all in the past,” Katherine interrupted, borrowing Mrs. Chrysler’s platitude and feeling quite sorry for him now. “Imogene and I are here to make things right, if we can. That’s why we were in the rest home today.”
“We haven’t been to Burnt Umberland in more than forty years,” Mrs. Chrysler said. “But we got a message from an old friend, and came to see how bad things had really gotten.”
“Oh, pretty bad,” Ruben said. “It’s a nightmare in there, that place. Ms. Angela doesn’t care about you. Just cares that you’re quiet. No visitors. No outside contact at all, really.”
“Hmm.”
“So, finding me was just a lucky coincidence, then?”
“Well, ‘lucky’ is a—”
“We didn’t so much find you, as you found us, really.”
“I suppose so.”
Katherine frowned as Ruben blew his nose then offered her handkerchief back. She waved him off. “Keep it. I’ve loads more,” she said quickly.
“Thank you.” He moved to tuck it into a pocket and his bony knuckles tore through the thin fabric of his robe; the wet hanky promptly fell through to the bench seat. “Drat.”
“Soo, are you going to be all right then, Ruben?” Katherine asked, regarding him somewhat skeptically.
“Oh, sure, sure.”
“Got anywhere to go? Any family?”
“Eh, not really. There’s my nephew, but he’d just send me back. And I can’t go back. Tried getting out of there for years. You rescued me today, really…”
Katherine and Mrs. Chrysler exchanged glances. A rescue wasn’t really what they’d had in mind at the time.
“Isn’t there anything you need at Eagle Heights, though? Medications? Another pair of glasses? Trousers, maybe?”
“Nothing for me there but my blankets… And I should be able to get more blankets… somewhere.”
“But you said you’ve got no money…”
“Not anymore. Not that I had much to start with.” His brow suddenly furrowed. He trailed off into an indignant silence, and Katherine looked at Mrs. Chrysler, who’d been sitting with her chin in her hands, one brow arched.
“Cilantro, Katty?” Mrs. Chrysler said, without breaking her gaze.
Katherine sighed. “Cilantro, Imogene.”
Another one of their code words, Tilly muttered. I knew it. They’re taking him with them. They’re going to take him to the nuns.
They feel some responsibility for him now, I guess, Ember said, ending her attempts to knead Ruben’s arm upon realizing that she was merely shredding his sleeve.
Pity, more like, said Mr. Scruffles. I mean, look at him.
Just then Ruben noticed the sleeve that Ember had worked over. His mouth fell into a deep frown that morphed into a resigned grimace.
“All right then,” Katherine declared, clapping her hands gently on the tabletop. “Why don’t you come with us to the convent, Ruben? That’s where we’re headed next. Maybe those nuns can sort something out for you.”
“You said there were nuns you wanted me to meet… You’re going to see the ones who hired you, aren’t you?” Ruben looked suddenly hunted.
Katherine shuddered. “Yes.”
“You’re not going to tell them it’s all my fault, are you?”
Mr. Scruffles cackled under the table. Oh, they should, they should, he snickered. Ember gave him a shushing nudge.
“Not sure,” Katherine admitted.
“What do you mean to do, then?”
“Don’t know yet,” Mrs. Chrysler told him. “But we told ourselves we’d do something, and I think”—Katherine nodded in agreement—“we’re about to find out what.”