Chapter 20
“Ohmygods, Imogene,” Katherine said when they were outside. “This is worse than we thought.” They reached the wagon, and Tin-Whistle Todd began helping them inside.
“Yes, yes, all right, let’s hop to it, then,” Mrs. Chrysler said as they settled into their seats.
“Hopefully that wild goose chase about the records room keeps Ms. Angela busy for a while.” She rooted around in her yarn bag and passed Ruben his notary stamp, then spread the contract out on the wooden bench, indicating the right spot. “Time to do your magic, Ruben.”
The old man smiled as the enchanted object lit up at his touch and grew warm in his hand.
“Here goes,” he said. “Second time in forty years I’ve stamped this contract.
But this time it’s for a good reason.” He gave Sister Agatha a furtive glance as he pressed the stamp to the paper.
Her eyes, however, were closed, likely, Katherine suspected, so she wouldn’t witness the illicit magic.
The magical object tinkled softly as Ruben lifted it away from the contract, revealing a burning light swirled into the shape of the stamp.
It cooled into a delicate, ornate scorch mark that any bureaucrat would delight in.
“Excellent,” Mrs. Chrysler said, then turned quickly to Todd. “To the Eagle Heights Active Adult Living Community, if you please.”
“Yes, and hurry,” said Katherine. “Before Ms. Angela gives up searching for something we didn’t actually take.
” Again, they heard Ms. Angela’s frenzied voice inside the building, and Katherine felt almost sorry for her brother and the verbal lashing he must be getting.
Then the clamor was compounded by Roberta’s staunch rejoinders, and Katherine supposed there might be hope for him yet.
“All right, let’s hurry now,” Mrs. Chrysler said.
“We’ve got to use this to get past those guards.
” She waved the notarized contract and then stowed it in her bag.
“And then hand it over to Sister Agatha’s lawyer to file it.
And once we’re inside, destroy that chandelier before that charm cooks those poor folks’ brains for good. Gods, that’s terrible, isn’t it?”
Sister Agatha opened her eyes. “It is indeed,” she said, sitting stiffly on her seat and scratching under the chin of Ember, who had alighted next to her. “To Eagle Heights, Todd.”
The mule trotted gleefully up the cobble lanes of town.
They really did it, Ember purred. They got the land back. And soon they’ll free all the people too.
Have they? Tilly said. Will they? I wouldn’t count my chickens just yet.
Chickens? said Mr. Scruffles. Where?
It’s an expression, my love, said Ember.
“I’m proud of you, Ruben,” Katherine said as she helped Mouser up to his accustomed place on the old man’s shoulders. “I think you really sealed the deal in there.”
Ruben’s face was still flushed, but he smiled and ran his fingers through his thin hair as Mouser settled down in his scarf. “It felt good, I must say. Better than I thought it would.”
“Confession often does,” Sister Agatha said.
“And that stamp,” Katherine continued. “Definitely not a flopper.”
Ruben gave Mouser’s paws a gentle pat.
Katherine noticed Mrs. Chrysler wore a faraway look and nudged her. “What are you thinking about, Imogene? You’ve got that look in your eye.”
“What look?”
“Like you wish you had Chauncey with you.”
Mrs. Chrysler scoffed. “The only sword useful against trolls, to my knowledge.”
The mule’s pace slackened as they approached the penetrating stench of the Eagle Heights bog, and Todd had to whistle to encourage it onward.
“An abomination,” Sister Agatha said when the property came into sight.
“This used to be dragon breeding ground as far as the eye could see. The observation platforms were there”—she pointed a long, skeletal finger—“and there. And the whole field would blossom bright red during the mating season. Just look at it now.”
Katherine winced. “I know we’re almost half a century late, Sister Agatha, but I’m sure we can put this right.
” The tree nymph whistled in encouraging affirmation.
“We’ll break that charm, stop the mining so the convent stops sinking, and once everyone and their families see what a better thing it would be to live at Saint Percival’s, and Todd’s had a go at the landscaping, it’ll be all right. You’ll see.”
Sister Agatha’s face remained impassive. “Yes, we shall see.”
Presently, the mule arrived at the entrance to the estate, but the way was now barred by a large, sturdy-looking metal gate.
“Oh, no!” Ruben clasped his face in his hands.
“Ruben, we expected this,” said Mrs. Chrysler, accepting Todd’s arm as he helped her descend from the wagon.
“The extra security, Ruben,” Katherine said, taking in the gates’ lofty height between the two brick pillars that bore the Eagle Heights sign. “Ms. Angela said she was getting extra security after all the sneaking around we did.”
“Oh. Right.”
“But look,” said Mrs. Chrysler. “Here’s a charming young man who I’m sure will be only too happy to help us.” The charming young man, Katherine noted, looked to be middle-aged and not in the mood for anything other than a nap.
“I say, my lad, would you please open the gate?” Mrs. Chrysler presented him her most winning smile and withdrew the freshly notarized contract from her bag.
“Who are you?” he asked skeptically.
“We’re the owners of this property.” She presented the paperwork authoritatively against the bars of the gate.
“My eye. You look like you belong inside it.”
“Nevertheless—”
“No one’s to go in or out, ’cept them’s that’s been approved.” He thumped a clipboard loudly. “I just got this job, see, so’s the orders are still real fresh.”
Mrs. Chrysler cleared her throat and held the contract a little higher. “Well, there’s been a change in management, my good man. See for yourself. Now, open the gate please.”
The man didn’t even look at her, or the contract. He examined his fingernails with a show of concentration. “Listen, lady, I don’t care what yer paper says. I’m not from around here. Paperwork don’t scare me.”
Sister Agatha swept fluidly up to the gate, and the man’s resolve quavered slightly under her penetrating stare, but it quickly steeled again. “Nuns don’t scare me neither.”
“Just look here,” Katherine said, stepping forward next to Sister Agatha. “If you were hired to guard this property, you now work for her.”
He looked over all of their shoulders. “I take orders from Ms. Angela, and no one else.” He pointed behind them. “And you ain’t her.”
They all turned to see Ms. Angela’s carriage speeding up the drive, and Ms. Angela shouting out of the window: “You get away from that gate, you wretches!”
“We’re not witches!” Katherine shouted back.
“I think she said ‘wretches,’ Katty.”
“Oh. Whatever. Ugh! Why isn’t she still rooting around in their records room, Imogene?”
“I don’t know, Katty. Gods, maybe she’s just making Angelo do it.”
“Potts! Open the gate and let us in, you oaf, and then get these trespassers off my property!”
“Yes, ma’am!” The man behind the gate—Potts, evidently—threw his weight against the winch on his side, releasing the tension in a chain so that it coiled rapidly and set the gates in motion, opening just in time to let the careening carriage thunder over the threshold.
“Ha!” Ms. Angela spat triumphantly as the gate closed quickly behind her. “I knew you’d never get in here again. And watch your backs, you nincompoops. The trolls are coming!” Her threat seemed to echo over the increasing distance between them.
“All right,” Potts said. “You heard her. Shove. Off.” From behind his back, he produced a small crossbow and poked it through the bars. “I don’t like aiming this at old ladies, so don’t make me do it any longer than I have to.”
“Now you listen to me,” Mrs. Chrysler said, tucking the papers away and instead whipping out the duckie scissors from her blouse. “I have a limited number of darns to give per day, and today I started out with fewer than usual. We need to get in there. And we need to get in there now.”
“Don’t matter to me none. Shove off.”
Mrs. Chrysler jabbed her duckie scissors through the bars, making the man jump out of the way of her well-aimed thrust. “Open this gate!”
“Just get out of here, will you?!”
A sudden clattering of hooves on cobbles made Katherine jump. A stern baritone with an edge of fussiness boomed: “What in the world is going on here?”
Katherine shielded her eyes from the sun as she looked up into the agitated face of a chestnut centaur wearing a well-pressed suit.
Potts lowered the crossbow guiltily and began shuffling behind the brick pillar nearest him.
“Thank you for meeting us here, Mr. Quintus,” Sister Agatha said.
Ah. Sister Agatha’s lawyer. Katherine shook her head. Only Sister Agatha could have persuaded a Pim lawyer to agree to such an unorthodox meeting spot.
“There have been some developments in our case. The Splints have—” She halted, shook her head, and gestured at Katherine and Mrs. Chrysler, apparently unable to explain herself without a lie. “These are some associates of mine.”
Mr. Quintus gave Katherine and her companions a curt nod. “A pleasure,” he said, although Katherine suspected he did not mean it.
“Pleasure,” Mrs. Chrysler echoed with a fleeting smile, quickly returning to scanning the horizon for trolls.
“This is very unconventional, to meet you here, Sister Agatha,” Mr. Quintus said, returning his gaze to the nun. “I trust you have the retainer payment due today.”
“Well, that’s just it,” said Katherine. “Sister Agatha won’t be needing to retain your services in future. The Splints have seen the light.” Mrs. Chrysler retrieved the paperwork from her yarn bag and proffered it to the towering lawyer.
The centaur shifted a messenger bag that was slung over his shoulder, withdrawing a magnifying lens. He took a thorough look at the contract, turning over its pages slowly, and raised a questioning brow when he had finished.