Oebalus Pugnax 4/7

It was late afternoon when Celestia woke up. After taking a minute to remember where she was, she hopped out of bed and headed toward the smell of hot stew. After fumbling down the densely packed hallway, she found Magra in the kitchen.

"I was beginning to wonder when you would wake up," Magra remarked while filling a bowl for Celestia. Actually, she had been concerned after two hours had passed and the girl wasn't awake, so she had crept into the room and checked to make sure Celestia was still breathing with a hand mirror. Magra could be slightly paranoid like that sometimes, but she felt that too much caring was always better than too little.

Celestia examined her stew while Magra said grace. It contained roast meat, onions, carrots, and cabbage. She picked out all the onions and stacked them on the table beside her. As they ate, Magra talked to her about tomorrow's events.

"One of my daughters is coming over, and I think you will like her. I hope you will, anyway. I can't see you getting much sleep tonight after such a long nap, so you may be grouchy when she gets here...”

When they had finished, Magra cleared the table, pausing to frown at the pile of wasted food beside Celestia's place. But she decided not to say anything and put the scraps into the soil of her aloe vera plant. That way, she consoled herself, it wouldn't really be wasted.

Celestia sat at the table, kicking her feet. She was full of energy, and getting bored sitting at the table. Magra noticed and decided to put her to work.

"Here," she said, pulling a basket down from a shelf. "You can sort this while I do the dishes. Here's a pile for borage, one for bay leaf, and one for willow bark." The basket was full of mixed-up herbs from one of Magra's expeditions into the woods.

Celestia stared at it blankly. She reached into the basket, pulled out a bay leaf, and put it in her mouth. Then she spat it out. Ick.

"This is white willow bark," Magra explained, untangling a strip from the other plants. "I give it to people for headaches, and it goes here." She placed it in the correct pile.

It took a lot of explaining and demonstrating, but Celestia eventually got a hold of the idea. When she figured it out, she realized that Magra was providing her with an exceptionally fun game, and she sorted zealously while Magra washed the dishes and cleaned up the kitchen. When both of them had finished their tasks, Magra showed Celestia how to braid the bark into long, easy-to-store ropes. When the little girl had gained proficiency in that skill, the woman took care of the borage and bay leaves, binding them together and hanging them up to dry. By the time they were finished, it was dark outside. Magra had Celestia wash her hands and face, say her prayers (Magra overlooked the fact that Celestia had never been given any instructions on praying, so the little girl ended up kneeling beside her bed for several silent, confusing minutes) and then tucked her in.

Celestia smiled as she lay in the comfy bed. This day had ended far better than it had begun. Magra seemed like a good person, though she did odd things sometimes. It had been a nice, relaxing day compared to yesterday. Then, true to Magra's prediction, Celestia realized she wasn't tired. Crawling out of bed, she walked to Magra's room in complete darkness. She already knew the way, so there was no need to see where she was going.

Celestia poked Magra's sleepy form. "Thirsty," she announced.

Magra resigned herself to a long night.

~ ❧ ~

Morning dawned on a bright, clear day, but Celestia wasn't ready to get up when Magra called her for breakfast. She had gone to sleep far too late last night, and now she was sluggish. As she stared at the frilly yellow coverlet, she wondered when this vicious sleep cycle would wear off.

"You have to get up now, child!" Magra finally commanded, striding purposefully into the yellow room. "My daughter is coming today and I need to pack a lunch!"

Celestia responded preemptively by grasping the headboard, but Magra proved very persistent and finally dragged her across the room to a small clothes chest. She selected a sturdy tan dress from the depths of the container and swiftly pulled it over Celestia's head, then rushed back to the kitchen to stir the sautéed onions, foolishly assuming that Celestia knew how to get her arms into sleeves.

Celestia struggled for a moment. In the past, she had always been helped into her clothes, and she soon decided that it was irresponsible of Magra not to finish the task of dressing her. Hot, sweaty, and uncomfortable, Celestia walked angrily into the kitchen, her arms trapped in the body of the dress and a look of righteous indignation on her small face. Just when Magra turned to see what was wrong, there was a knock at the door. "Oh, Jay is here already," she fretted, hurrying to greet her daughter.

Celestia was steaming by the time the two stopped chatting long enough to notice her plight. Magra's daughter Jay quickly helped her. She was kind, with freckles and curly brown hair. After Celestia had been straightened out, Jay assisted Magra with the picnic preparations.

"I'm sorry," Magra explained, "I just got a late start this morning because I had a hard time sleeping last night." She looked pointedly at Celestia, who was sitting at the table eating breakfast.

"I can tell that she's quite a character," Jay said, laughing. "How did you find her?" The question led to a story, which reminded Jay of a story she'd heard, and in minutes the women were talking non-stop. Soon the food was cooked and packed into a basket. Jay helped Celestia into shoes and a light jacket, and they set off walking.

After a few blocks Celestia got tired, and Jay had no problem carrying her for the next mile. When they finally stopped, they were at the outskirts of a forest. Jay showed Celestia which mushrooms to pick and where to find them, and Magra supervised her carefully to make sure she didn't get any poisonous ones. Soon the women had both picked a basket. To everyone's surprise, Celestia was an adept mushroom gatherer, though she had to crawl on her knees to find them. She picked her basket full quickly, then played until it was time for lunch, which was cheese-and-bacon sandwiches. Celestia ate happily, oblivious to the fact that Magra and Jay were talking about her.

"She seems physically normal in every way," Jay pondered, "so she can't be mongoloid. Her head seems normally shaped with no scars, so she's not addled by a blow."

"I think her eyes may be a little larger than normal," Magra countered, studying Celestia's head.

"And she does seem to have a short attention span," Jay continued.

Celestia flopped down on her back and peacefully blew dandelion fluff into the soft breeze. Dead dandelions meant it was fall, as did the mandatory jacket. Soon it would get cold. Celestia was glad that she could stay in Magra's house for the winter, she decided, picturing sorting herbs while Magra knitted in front of the fire.

Unfortunately, Celestia was wrong.

As usual.

~ ❧ ~

Magra and Celestia lived relatively uneventfully for a week before the landlord's ominous visit.

It was a cold, rainy afternoon. The windowpanes were dripping with perspiration. For several days it had been too damp to venture outside, and Magra had been building a small fire at night for warmth. To keep busy, Magra had been evaluating her stores of herbs to weed out the moldy ones.

Celestia had swept all of the wooden floors and ended up with blisters on her normally idle hands. Now she was washing jars for Magra to use in canning, but since she did not check to make sure they were clean, Magra had been putting most of them back into the sink. All in all, it was an ordinary fall afternoon.

The blissful little girl didn't have much on her mind, but Magra had been working for some time now without her customary carefree whistling. Lately, she had noticed, people had been whispering more frequently behind her back as she led Celestia through the market, and she knew it couldn't bode well for the two of them.

As if summoned by Magra's apprehensive thoughts, there was an impatient knock at the door. "Come in!" she called, wiping dust from her hands and hurrying to answer it. Celestia followed, glad for a diversion from work. Magra opened the door to a short, shifty-looking man.

"Magra B-, wasn't it? I'm afraid I have some unpleasant news. It has come to my attention that you are keeping a little girl as an... unpaid servant, and in the laws of this country, well... that's looked down upon." He squinted pointedly at Celestia, who was peeking around the edge of the door. Actually, the rumors had been more sinister - that Celestia was a demon in the form of a little girl, and Magra had tamed her by feeding her dead cats - but the landlord had decided that if that was the case, he didn't want to make Magra his enemy.

"But Mr. Nixon-" Magra began to protest.

"However! If you were to add an extra pound or two in your monthly rent for her, I could overlook her... living with you."

"You've been misinformed!" Magra cried. "I'm taking care of her until her parents come find her!"

"Alright. I understand.'' He didn't look like he understood or cared at all. “Here is your revised bill." He handed Magra a piece of paper and walked away, leaving her standing on the front steps, gaping in awe at his astonishingly rude manner.

Then she looked at the bill. "Oh, no. How am I ever going to afford this?" A tear snuck from Magra's eye, but she brushed it away before turning back to Celestia. "Come, we need to finish the dishes."

~ ❧ ~

Magra managed to scrape by for a fortnight before giving in to the inevitable truth: she couldn't afford to care for Celestia.

Along with the extra rent, there was the cost of food. Celestia was growing and still refused to eat onions, the cheapest vegetable available and one of Magra's staple foods. Her medications were costly, and they didn't seem to be doing much good, though Celestia's obedience and housekeeping skills had improved since she had moved in. But the main reason was the growing hostility of the neighbors, who either believed Celestia to be a slave or a mute demonic assistant to Magra. Unavoidably, something had to be done.

With a heavy heart, Magra bundled Celestia up in several layers of sweaters and packed her a lunch. Together, they walked across the neighborhood, hand in hand. Magra, who usually chattered to Celestia constantly, was gravely silent. Celestia fought down a vague feeling of unease and tried to enjoy the walk. It was a nippy, crisp morning. They entered a neighborhood of bright Victorian houses, and as Magra admired them, the little girl reveled at the bright leaves covering the walk. She bent down and chose a handful for her collection back home. Along with her leaf collection, Celestia also had extensive rock and feather collections that plagued Magra's efforts to clean her room. Soon the cold air gave her a stitch, but she didn't fuss. Magra had taught her some willpower during their time together.

Eventually, they stopped in front of a prestigious-looking red-brick building with a frosty, pointy black iron fence. The gate was held shut with a heavy padlock. Celestia wondered if the lock was to keep people in, or out.

"Oakwood Orphanage. Please leave children on the X or in the box," Magra read, shuddering. Celestia gripped her hand tighter. Realizing that she had frightened the girl, Magra tried to be more upbeat. "I've heard this is a nice place, Celestia," she remarked. "I think you are supposed to stand on the X here until they come and get you." She pointed to a mark on the sidewalk and made eye contact. Celestia nodded obediently.

Magra gave Celestia a quick hug, then hurried away before the little girl saw the tears erupting from her eyes.

~ ❧ ~

The truth seeped slowly into Celestia's heart. For some reason, Magra had left her and didn't plan to come back. The revelation made her feel even colder than the biting chill.

All she really wanted to do was run after Magra and go home to a nice mug of hot cocoa, but Celestia waited obediently on the X until a pale woman in a coarse black dress opened the gate. The woman guided her silently up the long pavement to the orphanage. She led Celestia through the tall, thick wooden doors and into an office, where she sat down at a desk and, dipping a raven quill into a bottle of ink, asked Celestia's name, age, and medical history in a dry, emotionless tone. When Celestia didn't answer, the woman scribbled a few things down, then rang a bell on her desk. A girl about Celestia's age entered the room, bowed, and beckoned for Celestia to follow her. As they walked down the hallways, they passed other girls, all dressed in the same clothes and all deathly silent. Celestia was starting to feel claustrophobic. It was impossible for her to see anything in the dim light besides the cold white of an occasional girl's face.

Finally, Celestia and her guide reached a wide room filled with tables and sat down at a bench. Instead of food, there were pieces of cloth, needles, and thread. The girl beside Celestia began to sew neat, nearly invisible stitches into her square of cloth. After a few moments, Celestia tired of watching her and tried to observe her surroundings. She was in a huge room filled with hundreds of girls, but there wasn't any sound of talking – not even a whisper. Celestia couldn't remember her mother's funeral, but this hopeless space reminded her of something dreadful. Once in a long while, someone would let out a stifled cough or gasp when they were pricked by a needle. Celestia stood up.

“No!” the girl beside her hissed. “Do you want to get everyone into trouble? Sit down!” Celestia ignored her, but jumped at a cold voice behind her.

“Talking in class, Samantha?” Celestia turned around to see the woman who had brought her in – or was it someone else? Everyone looked so much the same, even smelled the same! Suddenly, it was too much for Celestia. She bolted around the woman and past rows and rows of girls all wearing identical expressions of shock, then into the hallway, through the lobby, until she was at the tall front doors. She opened the latch, but the doors were heavy and not used to opening quickly. Sluggishly, it ground open. Celestia strained her ears for sounds of pursuit, but heard nothing. After squeezing through the door and rushing down the pavement, she realized why. The gates were locked tight. She grabbed the rails to the fence and shook them wildly, but they didn't budge at all. She heard the front doors grind further open – they had sent someone to fetch her.

Celestia relaxed for a moment and took a deep breath, something she had seen Magra do. Then she flexed her fingers and began climbing slowly up the gate. Her hands, callused now from helping Magra, stuck painfully to the cold metal, but this gave her extra traction. When her pursuer realized that Celestia was actually succeeding at getting over the gate, she shouted and broke into a run, but by the time she got to the fence, Celestia was too high to reach. The top of the fence was at least a foot above the woman's snatching hands. Instead, the woman beat the iron bars savagely in an attempt to throw Celestia off.

Celestia's hands slid dangerously. She was going to fall, but instead of returning to the yard and the angry woman, she used the last of her grip to fling her body over the fence and land hard on her knees. She was free.

~ ❧ ~

“Oh, no you don't!” The black-clad woman was rushing toward the padlock. As she fumbled with the keys, Celestia pelted full-speed down the sidewalk, going the same direction as Magra had in hopes of catching up to her. But after a few wrong turns, she became irretrievably lost and slowed to a walk.

She journeyed through small neighborhoods that looked much like Magra's had, then as she continued, the buildings began to look shabbier and shabbier. Soon she found herself in a district of dereliction, where there were few human sounds and most of the houses seemed condemned. Finally, the street ended with a sharp drop into a river. Celestia stopped at the edge and pondered her situation as the cold, inky water passed steadily by. It was the kind of afternoon that was sunny, but the sun didn't give off a lot of warmth. The frost had melted and the wet leaves were sticking to her skirt.

She had been abandoned yet again. Maybe this time she should try living on her own, scrounging for food, perhaps even sleeping on the street...

She was so lost in thought that she didn't notice the approaching footsteps until they were very close. Someone sat down on her left, then another figure collapsed in a heap on her right.

"Once again, we meet again," remarked the person on the left meditatively. "You are all at once thoroughly unlucky and highly fortunate. Who knew that such a small child was capable of outwitting us?"

The one on the right only sighed.

"Don't mind Anya," the person on the left apologized. "He's been having a rough week. You see, since our proprietor fired us, he has little money for clothes and food."

Celestia felt fear coursing through her body, but she tried to stay calm and think rationally. The Boots brothers had excellent strategic positions on either side of her. Jumping up and running away wasn't likely to work. But her only other option was to plunge into the icy water, and she knew that a swim in the cold weather would be just as perilous as falling into the Boots' clutches.

Celestia turned her head discreetly, studying her adversaries in her peripheral vision. O. Boots looked nearly the same as before, clean shaven and wearing dapper, if faded, clothing. He was puffing on a cigarette.

Anya, on the right hand, could be mistaken for a pile of dirty laundry. His enormous coat was tattered, and even his trademark tall hat was torn and shapeless. When he finally looked up at Celestia, she was surprised to see a network of pink-grey scars along the side of his face. He gave her a glare of intense malevolence.

Spurred into action by the evil frown, Celestia sprang up and flew wildly away from the brothers. She only made it a few pathetic yards before Anya's gloved hand latched onto her arm, constricting her muscles and pinching her skin. Celestia screamed, though she was aware that few people frequented this abandoned street.

"Now we will finally collect the bounty on your vile, diminutive blond head," O. Boots sneered.

Anya only stared at her ferociously as if he planned to devour her 'diminutive blond head'.

"Now to headquarters!" O. ordered.

"Wait," commanded an unfamiliar voice. It seemed that the tall, thin man had appeared out of nowhere. One instant O. and Anya were grabbing Celestia's shoulders, and the next they were looking to see who had a hold of them.

"Young Master?" The newcomer directed his query to a short, well-dressed figure who had also appeared like a phantom in the street.

"They are the ones," The Young Master agreed. "Can you drag them both at once?"

"I should not have any trouble with worthless riffraff like this. After all, I am your butler." The man turned and winked at Celestia, and then, as quickly and silently as they had come, the two disappeared. The Boots brothers went without a struggle, apparently too shocked to fight back.

Celestia sat down, badly shaken by the ordeal. Without the lucky intervention, she would have been toast. The problem of surviving on her own seemed suddenly insurmountable, and she felt a tear sneak out of her eye and down her cheek.

"Hey," a young voice called from the riverbank. "What is going on over here? I'm not sure what just happened...?"

~ ❧ ~

Celestia looked up, temporarily distracted from her distressing thoughts. The speaker, who sounded like a girl, was hurrying towards her from the direction of the river.

"Are you all right?" she called when she had reached Celestia. When she didn't answer, the other girl bent over and stared at her. "I said, are you alright?" After a few more awkward seconds, she pinched Celestia's jaw so it fell open and examined her mouth. "Well, they didn't cut out your tongue. Maybe you're deaf!" She tried to pantomime out her question.

Meanwhile, Celestia studied the girl. She was about the same height as her, but the newcomer looked a little older. She had short brown hair and was wearing boy's clothing along with an oversized man's work coat and hat. But her small, freckly face was too fine-featured for a boy.

Finally, the girl stopped signing to her. "I guess you're just dim-witted," she sighed. "I know a few kids like you. It looked like two of those blokes were trying to kidnap you. Are you going to be all right?" She waited for a response, then remembered that her new friend didn't talk. "My name's Rudi A. Jones. I think you should come over to stay at - I mean, wait at my place until we find your parents. Is that good with you?"

Celestia stood up. This friendly girl seemed like an excellent opportunity for free food, as she had kind eyes and looked healthy enough. Celestia followed her down to the riverbank and through a long gauntlet of Russian olives that scratched her skin to ribbons. After two hours, they emerged from the bushes into an old-growth forest. Tall, mossy oaks leaned over their heads, blocking out the sunset. Celestia was astonished to find that Rudi was largely unscathed.

The other girl noticed her stare and laughed. "I run around outside all the time," she explained, "so if I wasn't careful of scratchy plants, I'd be nothing but bones by now. You must not be used to exploring. Here, let's go to my place. My friend'll fix you up." The two of them walked through deep, rotting leaves until they finally came into a clearing. The closer they got, the more confused Celestia became. The 'houses' Rudi had mentioned turned out to be brightly colored carts arranged in a circle. Celestia stood outside of one and admired the mixture of red and gold decorating the front door.

"Rudi, is that you?" rasped an elderly voice from inside.

Rudi opened the door and pulled Celestia inside. "Yes, and look, I found a new friend! Can we keep her?"

An ancient, brown-faced woman stood up from a pile of blankets and came over to examine Celestia. It was obviously difficult for her to get up, and her way was impeded by stacks of baskets and other belongings. It was several minutes before she reached the two girls. She looked in Celestia's mouth, checked her ears, and examined her hair. Then she came to a decision. "There is no way we're going to keep this girl! Take her back where you found her. She's far too fair skinned, and we would be accused of stealing her for certain. And have you been through the olive bushes with her?! She's covered in cuts! Why, one poke in the eye from those things and she'll go blind...!" The old lady bandaged Celestia's face and hands, then sent them outside into the quickly darkening forest.

Rudi sighed drearily. "Well, this is foul. You seem like a great friend. Maybe we could disguise you or something... Hey! I have a friend who could probably help! Come on!"

Celestia was startled when Rudi grabbed her arm and hauled her away at top speed, but she would become accustomed to it soon enough.

Celestia had taken frequent walks with Magra, but 'walking' with Rudi was a markedly different experience. The two of them scrambled up muddy banks, cut across fields, and sped down embankments. Celestia quickly lost all sense of direction, but if you were to see it from a bird's-eye view, you'd be amazed to find that Rudi led Celestia in a nearly straight line to their destination. She had always theorized that her route was always the fastest way to get anywhere.

~ ❧ ~

The destination was a small, antique farming village. Following the sound of metal clashing against metal, Rudi hurried directly to the blacksmith's shop. The door was open for ventilation, so she nonchalantly walked inside. Celestia followed after a second's hesitation. She stepped cautiously into the hot, smoky room, and immediately collided with someone's leg so hard it knocked her over. She looked up, but the man who had bumped her was so tall she couldn't see even an outline of his head in the darkness. She realized that, like so many other places, little girls were probably not allowed here. Celestia was going over possible escape routes in her head when Rudi turned around and saw the man.

"Gustav!" she greeted him, "is Beetle around?"

Celestia's eyes adjusted to the dimness. She saw that the man was not glaring at her for running into him. He actually had a kind expression on his narrow face as he set down a huge hammer and bent over to help her up.

"Yes, he's here," Gustav replied, "and since it's almost time to quit for the day, you can tell him to stop working. Who's your friend?" he asked, slightly suspicious. He had known Rudi for a while, and was aware of her shaky relationship with the law. But she hurried to the back of the establishment without answering.

The two girls found Beetle sweating from exhaustion and heat, reefing on a billows with all his strength.  He was relieved when Rudi told him his shift was over and dragged him outside. When they got into the dimming light, he was astonished to recognize Celestia.

"So improbable," he murmured, wiping off his sooty glasses and looking again. "Rudi, where did you find this girl?"

"I didn't steal her - " Rudi began defensively.

"I'm not saying you did," Beetle cut in, "I just asked a question."

 So Rudi related her tale to Beetle (where she was the hero who had attacked and seriously maimed the men attempting to kidnap her new friend, of course), and finished by asking, "Since she stands out too much, you'll help me disguise her, right?"

 Beetle thought for a moment. Then he told Rudi, "The last time I saw this girl, she was with Mr. Sherlock Holmes, and was a possible witness to an important case. She vanished mysteriously, so what we really should do is return her to Baker Street.”

Here Rudi made a perfectly ghastly face.

"But," Beetle continued, "Mr. Holmes caught me listening in on one of his conversations and had me temporarily evicted. And I'm not the only one he's cut off ties with. He even sent notices to the Irregulars that they were not to come to the flat, and sent Mrs. Hudson on a paid vacation. Nobody but Mr. Watson is to enter his apartment until after December thirteenth."

 "We could send him a telegram," Rudi suggested halfheartedly.

 "All of the money I make here is used up on rent and food," Beetle said, "and I don't suppose you are wealthy either, Rudi?"

 "What a sweatshop," Rudi groused, changing the subject. "Making you give all your money for food and rent, why, Gustav is nothing more than a slave driver!"

 "Actually," Beetle contradicted, "he would be fine without an apprentice. Really, it's charitable of him to keep me working here."

 "Well then," Rudi remarked abruptly, standing up, "we'll just have to use my original idea instead. Beetle, use your immense talent to help me make my new friend Gypsy-like!"

 "Alright, now let me think about this," Beetle decided, and set about designing a disguise.

~ ❧ ~

It didn't take long at all for Beetle to come up with a Gypsy disguise. He instructed Rudi to rub charcoal into Celestia's hair. While she was doing that, he assembled as many rusty tools as he could and then had Rudi smear rust onto Celestia's pale face, arms, and feet. When they were through, she looked exactly like a Gypsy, apart from her blue eyes.

 "Those eyes look a bit unnatural," Rudi pondered. "Maybe we should find her some darkly tinted glasses."

 "I thought the point of this disguise was to keep expenses down," Beetle countered. "No, this is sufficient. Nobody would mistake her for Miss Westing now."

 "Well, thanks, Beetle! It's getting really dark now, so we should get going!"

 "What, already?! You just got here! Sometimes I think you're only my friend because I help you out of trouble..."

 When Celestia realized that she was going to have to walk all the way back to Rudi's house, she groaned and slumped dramatically to the ground. Rudi thought she must have fainted from her rigorous day, so Beetle helped pull Celestia up onto Rudi's back.

"Do you really plan to carry her all that way?" Beetle asked in disbelief.

 Rudi answered with a cheery wave, then she and Celestia faded into the gathering dimness.