Eccentric Circles

Chapter Twelve

At the fairies' bridge near Larkingtower's spire, Aelvarim walked cautiously, pointing out spreading black gaps to Piper. The small stream had been reduced to a mere trickle not much larger than what could have come from a garden hose. Near the stream a tree had fallen over. Piper started to walk across it, but Aelvarim stopped her.

"No. That tree fell because a rift took its roots." Crouching beside it, he carefully pulled aside the tall stalks of grass to reveal an ugly black gap. "The tree could shift anytime, and slide into the rift. You with it. Follow me." He led the way downstream to a point where there were no black splotches marring the grassy banks or the nearly dry pebble-strewn streambed.

They stepped across, and he headed back for the bridge, motioning her to follow. "I'll show you under the bridge. Be careful where you step and what you touch."

Standing back from the bridge, Aelvarim pointed to black stains on the shadowed streambed. "The rifts almost cover the entire area under the bridge now."

Piper missed the fairies. She wished they'd fly out at her, teasing and taunting. She even wished they'd throw rocks at her again. The stream just didn't seem the same without them. It was darker, more brooding. The rifts scarier without the fairies' chord of laughter to dispel the gloom.

"Stay back from there!"

Piper turned to see Larkingtower frowning at them.

"Do you want to disappear into a rift?" Larkingtower stalked over, his robes flapping around his ankles and his beard fluttering behind him like a flag. His staff pounded into the ground with each step. "She should not be here. She should not be meddling in this. There are dangers here even old elves don't understand and wouldn't confront. Too much for a fool human female."

Aelvarim opened both his hands to Larkingtower. "What is happening here affects her and her world, too. 'Twould be foolish indeed to reject her power and assistance because her form and shape don't meet with universal approval."

"Elves," Larkingtower grumbled. "You'd think they'd learn eventually. The only power human women have is to ensnare the minds and hearts of males and lead them astray." He turned on Piper, shaking a bony, gnarled finger in her face. "And don't think I haven't noticed you winding your wiles around him. You haven't let a day go by without reinforcing your net and tightening it about him. Distracting him from his duties, and muddling his attempts to mend this tale. You ...."

"Larkingtower." Aelvarim looked distinctly uncomfortable, but while his mouth remained open, he didn't say anything else.

"Would Grandma performing magic spells have changed anything?" Piper asked, quickly filling in for Aelvarim.

"She attempted magic?" Thin tendrils of smoke curled out of Larkingtower's robes and beard. "That would change everything! Attempting the arcane arts without proper instruction is suicide. Madness, sheer madness!"

"We think that's what happened in the garage," Piper said. "We found some spell books, with notes she'd made. We think she may have hidden her manuscript with a hiding spell."

A mild evening breeze blew away the smoke from around Larkingtower. He looked pensively at the ground, his entire aspect changed, quiet and sad. "That would explain the singed broom." He sighed. "Poor woman. Why did she meddle? Why didn't she just leave well enough alone? Let someone who knew more make that decision?" Larkingtower glanced up from the ground to catch Piper's gaze. He quickly pulled himself up, as tall, straight, and haughty as he could. "Magical power should not be treated lightly. It is not something to dabble in or play with. There are aspects even the most advanced adept needs to be careful with."

Larkingtower blew out a long breath. It was as if someone had let the air out of a balloon. He shrank, until he looked like a stooped and gnarled old man, his beard and robes flapping loose around him, many sizes too big. He clung to his tall staff, as if only it was keeping him upright. "I'm tired. Go. Go both of you. It's been too much, too long, too hard. Go now." He turned and doddered slowly back toward his spire.

"Would you like some of Malraux's mead?" Piper stepped toward him, wishing she could help him in some way.

Aelvarim touched her arm, but before he could say anything Larkingtower looked back over his shoulder, smiling. "I have my own. I make it for Malraux. But I thank you."

"That was very kind of you," Aelvarim whispered as he guided her toward the forest path on the other side of the meadow. "And very like Grandmother Dickerson."

"Poor thing," Piper murmured. "He seemed so sad, and so tired."

"We all are." Aelvarim pointed warningly to a black splotch sprawled across the path in front of them.

Piper didn't remember seeing any black gaps on her way through the forest earlier. She wondered if they'd spread this fast in the time she'd been visiting Fairy this evening, or there'd been fewer, but she hadn't noticed earlier.

They pointed out gaps to each other the whole way home. Aelvarim found the last one just outside the boundary of Grandma's yard.

"That's getting awfully close." Piper walked backwards, trying to see if any more would pop up as they walked. "Should I not sleep tonight? What if they come up and into the house while I sleep?"

"They won't. At least not tonight. And if they do, it will be too late to worry about them." Aelvarim glanced worriedly back. "When the rifts start taking over Grandmother Dickerson's house it will be too close to the end to stop them. The house is a strong connecting point. The rifts appear first in areas where the worlds are far separated and last where they are connected."

Deciding to fix a snack before tackling the book-filled parlor, Piper stopped in the kitchen. Setting the basket on the counter, she opened the dish towel to see what Malraux had sent with them. A miniature jug sat on one side of the basket. A small, old-fashioned candy tin turned out to be filled with rocks of some kind. A tiny sculpture of a fairy was wrapped in birthday tissue paper. The bottom of the basket was lined with three hand-crocheted pot holders in a green yarn shot with silver.

"What are these things?" Piper asked Aelvarim standing next to her.

He touched the rock-filled tin. "These Grandmother Dickerson said she'd bought in a store. She told Malraux she thought they were pretty, and asked what they were and if they had any interesting properties. They're just ordinary rocks, but pretty. I'm not sure why he still had them." His fingers caressed down the statue of the fairy. "Grandmother Dickerson admired Malraux's carvings, and asked him to make her a statue of a fairy. I don't remember what she gave him in return."

Aelvarim picked up the pot holders, smiling. "These are a joke of some kind. I don't remember how it started, but it's become a game. Whoever has them tries to give them away to someone else. The other person can refuse them if they notice them. I've had them twice. Larkingtower is always getting them. Grandmother Dickerson never refused them. She made them originally. Malraux is usually very careful to avoid them. I wonder how he ended up with them." He picked them up one by one. "There were four of them." He smiled at her. "If Malraux forgot one, you may be able to use that as an excuse to return the others."

"Grandma made these?" Piper took the pot holders from Aelvarim, holding them tight. Somehow they seemed to be more of a connection to her great-grandmother than the house and the books. She examined the pot holders. Some of the stitches were missing, even she could see that, but knowing that Grandma had toiled over each stitch made them special.

"I'll go start sorting books in the parlor."

Piper looked up to see Aelvarim giving her a strange look. "I'll fix a snack."

Once all the books had been sorted by subject, they began shelving them. Piper was determined to get all the books onto the shelves, even if she had to double shelve them. It was fairly mindless work, leaving Piper free to think.

"Do you think Larkingtower is all right? I mean, is he sick? Or, what do you think is wrong?" Piper asked.

Across the room, Aelvarim picked up a stack of books with one hand and put them on the shelves with the other. "He'll be fine. He's just tired. He's been staying up late trying to find a way to stop the rift. The spells he's tried haven't worked. I'm afraid he'll wear himself completely out before this is over."

Hesitating, Piper said, "I'm sorry if I'm disrupting your duties."

"You aren't." Aelvarim stopped to stand by Piper on his way to the kitchen to get more books. "This problem is too much for such as I, I'm afraid. You and Larkingtower and Malraux will have to make up for my inadequacies. The fairies are of no help to anyone. Unfortunately, no one else from Fairy will assist us, or in any way associate with beings from the Human world. It's just the four of us."

"Don't be stupid," Piper said. "You're certainly more suited for this sort of thing than I am. I have no idea what I'm doing."

He smiled. "Funny. Malraux says the same thing."

She waited until he returned from the kitchen. "You're the expert here. Don't forget it."

"I wish I were." Aelvarim pushed the books roughly onto the shelves, his long legs splayed for balance.

Piper made a trip to the kitchen for another armload of books. "All right. Let’s think this through logically. You say Grandma Dickerson was murdered, and that is causing a rift between the worlds of Fairy and human."

"Yes."

"When did you realize this happened?"

"Shortly after she died, I could sense that something was wrong, some evil had transpired. Only later did I realize our worlds were moving apart."

"And it was accomplished by magic."

"Yes."

"Method, motive, and opportunity. That's how all the detectives in all the stories find the criminal." Piper put the last of her armload on the shelf, and turned to find Aelvarim standing still with a handful of books almost on the shelf. "Method was magic. Motive .... Don't know. Opportunity. Who had the opportunity?"

Aelvarim stared at her amazed. "Anyone, I suppose."

"No. Not anyone." Piper shook her finger at him. "Think. It had to be someone near enough to put a spell on her. Someone that was around here, shortly before she died. And who might have a reason, however strange, to want her dead."

"The only people around here, as you say, were myself, Larkingtower, Malraux, and the fairies."

Piper let that sink in before she left to go get the next batch of books. Aelvarim followed her into the kitchen.

"No. No. It couldn't be one of us. We all loved Grandmother Dickerson. None of us would have a motive." Aelvarim appeared horrified.

"It's either that or someone from the Human world." Piper picked up another load of books.

When she finished that load and came back, Aelvarim was still standing there, looking horrified. She stepped directly in front of him, to break the path of his gaze.

"No," he whispered.

"Yes." Piper turned him toward the parlor and gave a gentle push. "Think it through. Opportunity. Someone nearby, with the ability. Who fits that description?"

She found him sitting in one of the Queen Anne chairs, bent over, with his hands covering his face. She shelved her load of books and put a hand on his shoulder. "Are you all right?"

His hands dropped to his lap. His face had the ravaged expression of one distraught beyond their ability to cope. In a rough whisper he said, "Who?"

"I don't know."

"I have been searching night and day. Larkingtower has been exhausting himself with his spells. Malraux has ...."

When he didn't finish the sentence, Piper prompted him, "Malraux has ... what?"

"Nothing," Aelvarim said despairingly. "He's done nothing at all."

Piper thought about Malraux. She knew so little of him, but he'd seemed so nice. Just like your average, next-door-neighbor serial killer.

Aelvarim grabbed Piper's hand as he stood and pulled her behind him as he stalked into the kitchen. "The pot holders. Where are the pot holders?"

"What?"

He snatched them up from the counter where Piper had left them, and, without letting go of Piper's hand, dragged her behind him as he headed for the garage.

"The explosion in the garage. There's something green on the walls. One of the pot holders is missing. What if the spell cast there wasn't cast by Grandmother Dickerson? What if it was the murderer, casting the final spell, and he needed something of hers? Something she'd owned and handled and even made. Something deeply associated with her, on her own property, even" – his teeth ground together for a moment – "using her belongings as ingredients, for his nefarious purposes."

In the garage, Aelvarim let go of Piper's hand, flipped the switch to turn on the light, and held the pot holders up next to the green spatters on the walls. They were a perfect match.

With a wordless cry, Aelvarim sank to the floor. "The colors are the same. There's even small flecks of silver." His free hand covered his face. "No."

"But what was the spell?" Piper took the pot holders from him to make her own comparison. "When was the spell thrown? Mom told me Grandma came down sick one afternoon, went to the hospital, and died that evening. They said she just had indigestion and died of old age. She was in her nineties." She looked down at Aelvarim, still sitting on the garage floor. "Well what do we do now?"

"Now," Aelvarim whispered. "Now?" He stood up, slowly and carefully. "Now. We need to figure out what spell was cast. We need to know for certain before we confront anyone. We must make sure Malraux really perpetrated this evil before we face him. Then. Then, we will have to fix the story."

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Eccentric Circles copyright © 2001 by Rebecca Lickiss

Cover art copyright © 2009 by Alan L. Lickiss

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