#Mountain approves of the bee hat

[thelampisaflashlight]

Some sketches of Bea:

I mostly wanted to get a handle on her body shape/the placement of her birthmarks, because she has six of them.

It was either bee hat Bea or ghoul Bea for the bottom filler sketch, and bee hat won, because it absolutely seems like something she'd be given by someone as a gag gift, but would then become part of her cold weather gear.

I was going to put her in a habit or one of the ghoul's uniforms, but I didn't wanna look up references, and I honestly don't know if, character wise, Bea would be inclined to wear one or the other

[alanna-artroid]

Cookies I Have From Cookie Run So Far! (And My Thoughts On Them)

Alright, I’ve gotten pretty far in Cookie Run: Oven Break, and I felt the need to share my thoughts on all the adorable cookies I’ve unlocked so far. So far, I have 50/100, so I’d say I’m making good progress. On to the list!

GingerBrave: The bravest boy. If this was a show, he’d clearly be the main character. I recently got him a little suit, so now he’s a gentleman! 

GingerBright: Sweet little lady. She looks like she’d be nice to get a coffee with or help you with homework. I definitely ship her with Brave, no doubt about it.

Strawberry Cookie: Precious baby! She’s super shy and I am compelled to protect her at all costs. Her pet is also a Tamagotchi, so she must be a gamer! Sweet!

Skater Cookie: HE WAS A SK8TER BOI! SHE SAID SEE YA LATER BOI! 

Zombie Cookie: This is one of the fastest zombies I’ve ever seen. They seem like a nice guy overall though.

Princess Cookie: Heck yes, a mischievous princess! Those are the best! I love her dress and hair bows. I bet she just pretends to get kidnapped for the lols.

Pilot Cookie: Is it just me, or is this little old man smaller than most of the other cookies? Whatever, he’s got a cute mustache and he’s adorable. Go and fly!

Vampire Cookie: As a vampire nerd, I immediately adored this guy. I will gladly give him grape juice and chill with him under the light of the moon. 

Gumball Cookie: Is this was Splatoon is like? This boi has a lot of chaotic energy and I like him.

Pistachio Cookie: I love this warrior woman so dang much. Look at that minty green hair! Her power is also SUPER helpful. She a speedy knight!

Pancake Cookie: HE’S A FLYING SQUIRREL! HE’S TOO CUTE I CAN’T EVEN! LET ME HUG THIS TINY CHILD!!!

Peppermint Cookie: Sweet baby. Good baby. My mom would probably adore this baby. (She loves mint and she’s not even a big sweets person.)

Muscle Cookie: As a lesbian, I’m not into big abs and muscles, but he’d probably be a good gym partner. Don’t mess with him is all I can say.

Cherry Cookie: Little Red Riding Hood got some bombs! I hope she and Gumball can go cause chaos on the weekends.

Hero Cookie: Precious nerdy boi with science! I saw his Island of Memories intro and his bond with Jellyco Cube is just the sweetest thing! Follow your superhero dreams, my baby!

Fairy Cookie: I didn’t know Tinkerbell was in this game! Also, I got her a bee costume and that looks super cute on her. Love her hair bun.

Werewolf Cookie: ULTIMATE FLOOF! Doggo here has a lot of angst and I worry for him. Maybe Vampire Cookie can teach him to chill? That’d be nice.

Rockstar Cookie: Oh, the songs I could sing right here. High tier rocker boy. Loving that flowing white hair. Rock on, buddy!

Soda Cookie: Go-to starter for my Breakout runs. I love him very much, he’s super cute! Let me go to the beach with this righteous dude! 

Dark Enchantress Cookie: Oooooh, she is GORGEOUS!!! I love her design~! I’ll be sure to invite her to any fancy balls I might have, as to avoid any Maleficent scenarios with this savage woman.

Moon Rabbit Cookie: My spirit animal! I love how she constantly munches while she runs. This girl is such a mood for me. Cute little bunny ears~!

Space Doughnut: Awww, look at this alien dork! Their design is very cute, and I love how their expression of >:3.

Macaron Cookie: Such a sweetie pie! Why must they all be so adorable?! She’s a little drummer girl! That is too precious! Look at her dress and hat!!!

Pink Choco Cookie: She reminds me of a show I watched when I was younger. It was about a space girl, does anyone remember it? This girl will save the day, I can tell! 

Avocado Cookie: Strong girl on the loose! My pun-loving friends would adore this cookie. And she’s a blacksmith, which is always cool.

Whipped Cream Cookie: Elegant ballerino!! He’s definitely one of my favorites! Such a beautiful boi~! I love his design so much, and he’s very useful. <3 <3 <3

Blackberry Cookie: Yeeees! Gothic girl for the win! She is SO dang pretty! I am WEAK for gothic lolitas, and she even has ghost buddies! I bet she’ll love spooky games like Luigi’s Mansion and Hollow Knight.

Lemon Cookie: Edgy boi is trying way too hard to be Shadow the Hedgehog. I mean, can you SMILE for once dude? It’ll take me a while to bond with this guy.

Salt Cookie: He strikes me as a wise old man you’d find meditating at the top of a mountain, or in his case on a boat in the ocean. I bet he has lots of knowledge to share.

Squid Ink Cookie: AWWWWW, SWEET BABY SQUID!!! Guys, I think they might be my favorite! They’re so squishy and mighty, and they need all my love and huggles!!! Don’t be sad baby, I’ll be your friend! <3 <3 <3 <3 <3

Lime Cookie: Beach girl! She’s like Lemon Cookie, but slightly nicer! I really like her hair and beach ball. Very cool girl.

Ninja Cookie: FINALLY! SOMEONE WITH MORE THAN TWO JUMPS!!! I went kind of crazy with his jumping powers at first. He’s super cool. Not sure why his pet is a ghost though.

Pomegranate Cookie: Oooh, I love Asian fashion~! Look how fancy and elegant she is! Her story concerns me, and I’m worried about her.

Angel Cookie: Good cookie, sweet cookie. Wouldn’t hurt a fly. It looks like they trust the devil boy, which is beyond kind of them. I love it when angels get along with demons. Defy angle roles!!!

Devil Cookie: Speaking of, they’re a cute little bean too! I love the naughty demon trope, and this cutie is so mischievous! Call Angel your “rival” all you want, I’m still shipping you dorks.

Roll Cake Cookie: Imagine, if you will, the world’s biggest game of Whack-A-Mole! With that hammer, this boy would win without question.

Popcorn Cookie: I’d be happy to go with this girl to the movie theater! Also, I love how she had popcorn for hair buns. She seems like she’d be up for a fun time!

Carrot Cookie: Oh my lordy, her ponytails are carrots. The artists for this game are so clever. Strong but tiny farmer, I approve.

Ion Cookie Robot: Yes! A robot! I love robots, and this cookie is no exception! Definitely one of my favorites, up there with Whipped Cream Cookie. They’re super powerful too, and REALLY useful in Breakout and Trophy runs.

Dino-Sour Cookie: Gee Dino-Sour, how come Devsisters let you have two pets? Very cool punk boy. I can see him going to Rockstar Cookie’s concert.

Plum Cookie: Aren’t plums purple though? This boy is one tough cookie! Look at his karate moves! Honestly, I thought he was a girl at first. Why must these boys be so pretty?!

Yogurt Cream Cookie: PRINCE ALI! FABULOUS HE! ALI ABABWUA~!

Alchemist Cookie: Look, it’s Twilight Sparkle! Apparently, Vampire boy is her brother? I really like her hair braids(?), I just wish she’d loosen up a bit. She seems like a nice girl.

Roguefort Cookie: Aaaah yeah, elegant thief! This cookie is the coolest! I love this aesthetic so much~! Blue cheese has never been so fancy. Just look at this charmer, stealing hearts!

Pitaya Dragon Cookie: OOOOOhohoho! THIS is what I’m TALKING about! Look at this beast, they’re GLORIOUS! They’ve probably killed a bunch of people, but They’re crazy powerful and I adore them.

Knight Cookie: This guy is SO much fun to play as! He just won’t stop, he’s too fast!!! I couldn’t stop laughing once I found out just how fast this knight could go! Somehow he controls better than Pistachio? I don’t know, I love him!

Birthday Cake Cookie: TOO PRECIOUS FOR WORDS! SHE’S SO DANG CUTE!!! Also, her “Bonus Time” changes to “Happy B Day” and I... I just can’t! She’s the sweetest thing!!! <3 <3 <3

Cocoa Cookie: Awww, look at this sweet baby! I wanna snuggle her! Her design looks so warm and comfy. I have plenty of hot chocolate to give her. <3

Raspberry Mousse Cookie: Ah yes, the pretty boy that got me into this game in the first place. Along with Squid Ink, he’s probably my favorite. There’s a reason he has the highest affection so far with me. I just adore his design, and he’s very powerful! I will ALWAYS have him ready for Breakout and Trophy Runs. Well worth all the hype. <3 <3 <3 <3 <3

Rose Cookie: Finally, we have this lovely lady. Everyone is shipping her with Raspberry, and rightfully so. She is a high-quality woman that makes gay men straight and straight girls lesbian. Look at that outfit! And those dance moves!

Aaaand that’s everybody for now! I’ll update this once I get more Cookies. So far, I like most of them a lot. Anybody got some favorites they’d like to share? I’m still new to this game, but I’m happy to hear what others have to say!

UPDATE 1: 

I went back and fixed all the gender mistakes I made. (I’m so sorry! D:) Also, I got a few more cookies! So here we go!

Walnut Cookie: Precious detective baby! The newest update is only making her cuter! Probably the shortest of the bunch, and I adore her design~! <3

Cinnamon Cookie: Super useful power so far, and they have a really cool cape! Those cards are very handy! (I promise I’ll pay attention to the genders of these cookies from now on! I don’t want to misgender anyone again!)

Sparkling Cookie: Oooh, a sparkling cider cookie! That’s honestly the only boozy thing I enjoy drinking. He is super classy and seems like the life of the party. He strikes me as a Great Gatsby kind of host.

Moonlight Cookie: OOOOOOOH~! LOOK at this GODDESS! I love the nighttime/dreamy aesthetic. This girl has Luna’s hair and a wizard’s outfit, high tier cookie!

White Choco Cookie: This game sure likes it’s knights, huh? This girl is a fine lady and apparently, she attracts all the lesbians. Can’t say I blame those girls, I do love that hairstyle. 

Spinach Cookie: Aaand the newest cookie to hit the scene, this girl! I have never met someone so dedicated to vegetables, so I have to applaud that. She’s a super sweet girl, and I hope we find who stole her precious vegetables!!!

UPDATE 2:

More Cookies! It’s been a while since I’ve updated this, so I have quite a bit to share. On to the new ones!

Mustard Cookie: Look at this punk girl! Street artist on the loose in the streets! I always admire people and characters in this style, so I’m supporting this rebel all the way!

Herb Cookie: Now THIS guy is everywhere! It seems the fandom really likes him, and I can see why. He seems like a very nice boy, with a sweet plant baby. I like the leaf hair, very cool.

Sea Fairy Cookie: I love how everything on her flows. Her hair, her dress, she’s so beautiful~! I will say though, Legendaries are SO DANG HARD to level up and get affection with! WHY?!

Cream Puff Cookie: Awwww, look at this precious baby girl~! Look at her soft hair and little dress! I almost feel bad running with the super cute ones, I don’t want them to get hurt! 

Matcha Cookie: Oooooh, all these ancient-looking cookies have the coolest designs! She’s probably insane, darkness will do that to ya, but she seems harmless so I like her!

Ice Candy Cookie: This chick could crush me like a grape and I don’t know how to feel about that. Hopefully, she’s only savage on the ice rink. I do NOT want to mess with this girl.

Cherry Blossom Cookie: Awww, look how pretty she is~! Cherry blossoms are always so lovely, and this girl embodies that. She has a PARASOL for crying out loud, I CAN’T EVEN!!

Grapefruit Cookie: This game sure likes sports, huh? She seems really cool, I love her colors! Do you think she’d play Skate 3? Hopefully, she’d get a laugh out of that game.

Pirate Cookie: This guy has been a long time coming. I’ve been curious about him since the Breakout episode. He’s pretty neat, I appreciate how he naturally comes with an extra revive.

Kumiho Cookie: Cool! A Kitsune! I love the spin on the concept of cookies. Let this marshmallow fox live out her reverse-furry dream! I’m loving her design too, look at that hair! 

Marshmallow Cookie: Oh cute! Another marching band cookie! According to her story, she and Macaron had a falling out. I hope they can reconcile and be friends again. :(

Dark Choco Cookie: WE’VE REACHED MAXIMUM EDGE! WITH OREO SHOULDER PADS!!! Interesting how he’s still trying to be a hero, which is a nice spin on the “I have evil powers so now I’m evil” trope. Here’s hoping he stays strong.

Fire Spirit Cookie: Ah yes, the classic lord of fire. A staple for any fantasy story that includes the elements. Again, it’s impossible to get the affection for these guys.

Mala Sauce Cookie: Yay! I got Pitaya’s girlfriend! I always love it when there’s a tribe/society of warriors and the WOMAN is the strongest one there. Heck yes! This warrior lady is a badass!

Firecracker Cookie: I didn’t know I was invited to a rave party! Love the neon colors on this cookie, that’s something this game really excels at.

UPDATE 3:

I’ve reached 90 cookies! I’m on the homestretch!!!

Cheesecake Cookie: OH MY LORDY LOOK HOW FANCY SHE IS! I adore her already! Fancy ladies are the best ladies!

Kiwi Cookie: This game REALLY likes sports. He looks cool, can’t complain.

Yoga Cookie: Awww, a pretzel is trying to be loose! I’ve done yoga a few times, and it is very good for your body. Nice colors, simple design, nice.

Dr. Wasabi Cookie: I’d reference some mad scientist, but I know a lot of them so we’d be here for a while. Her combi generator has been very helpful.

Tiger Lily Cookie: IT’S THE EYE OF THE TIGER IT’S THE THRILL OF THE NIGHT, RISING UP TO THE CHALLENGE OF OUR RIVALS!

Chili Pepper Cookie: Uh oh, this one’s a troublemaker! I really like her hair, it’s very bright. Secure your pockets around this chick, that’s for sure.

Millennial Tree Cookie: These cookies are too pretty, I keep thinking they’re girls! This guy is so beautiful~ truly a being of nature!

DJ Cookie: Ooooh, I love her design~. Rainbow colors will win me over every time. And look! She’s wearing a Bi Pride shirt! This girl is awesome! I like how her special power is basically tiny Guitar Hero.

Snow Sugar Cookie: Soft baby, sweet baby. Looks very cuddly. Their level was very helpful during Sandwich Cookie’s event in getting frozen jellies. Those blue bears aren’t easy to come by!

Fig Cookie: CENTAUR! I wasn’t expecting one of those here! She’s such a sweetie pie~. Since everything and anything is allowed in this game, can we get mermaids or harpies next?

Cotton Candy Cookie: PRECIOUS BABY! She’s so gosh darn cute, I can’t take it! I personally can relate to falling in love with things so easily. And there are official plushies of her now! ONE DAY I WILL BRING HER HOME!

Purple Yam Cookie: Bro needs a chill pill. Not ONCE have I seen this guy smile yet. And I thought Lemon needed to lighten up. Milk seems to care about him though, so I guess he can’t be that bad.

Milk Cookie: The softest of warriors! Look how cute he is~! I adore him! Plus he really shines in the stories. I can only assume Yam is his boyfriend or something. Am I wrong about that?

Cyborg Cookie: Hey! I saw the storybook for this one! I’m surprised I haven’t unlocked this “Aloe Cookie” yet. Are they still in this game? I can’t find them on the chart. Anyway, Cyborg is cool. Very nice design.

Mango Cookie: Newest baby! I love him, and would love to learn all about the islands from him! I’m gonna say it, I already ship him with Ananas Cookie, no questions asked.

[purrincess-chat]

Marinette Dupain-Cheng’s Spite Playlist: Original CH8

The unexpected surprise was that I finished the chapter while I was at work lol. So enjoy! I will say that this cliffhanger is worse than last chapter~

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Chapter 8

My dear sweet Marinette,

           How are you, my fairy? I hope that this letter finds you well, when you backpack over Russian mountains, you take whatever mail service you can get. I have so much to tell you about my latest trip, but first I have some exciting news for you!

During my last stay in Africa volunteering to build homes in a humble little village, I ran into a sweet little fairy by the name of Clara Nightingale. She says she met you! Did you know she’s a famous pop star? Anyway, she and I spent a lot of quality time together teaching young children how to read, and I showed her the scarf you knitted me for Christmas, and she absolutely loved it! She says she will be in Paris again on the 18th and wanted to meet with you about designing for her, so I gave her the address to the bakery. She said she would stop by and see you.

“No way, no way, no way!” Marinette shrieked, bouncing giddily. “Clara Nightingale wants me to design for her! I could just faint.”

“This is an amazing opportunity for you, Marinette,” Tikki said as Marinette paced the floor, hugging the letter and cheerfully humming. “Tomorrow could change your life!”

“I know, Tikki! I’m so excited to- wait,” she paused abruptly. “Tomorrow?”

“The letter said the 18th right?” Tikki tilted her head, and Marinette raced over to pull down her calendar. “Isn’t that-”

“Tomorrow! Clara Nightingale is coming to my house. Tomorrow. To look at my designs!” Marinette clutched her cheeks as rapid breaths shook her shoulders, and Tikki covered her ears as another scream emitted from her master’s throat. “This is a dream come true, Tikki!”

“It’s not really surprising. Gabriel Agreste approved your designs after all, and Clara attended the show, so it’s not like she’s unfamiliar with your work,” Tikki said. “Plus, you’ve designed for Jagged before too.”

“I know but getting commissioned by celebrities at 14 isn’t something you just get used to,” Marinette said, falling onto her chaise with a sigh. “I can’t wait to tell Macy, Eliott, and Martin! They’re gonna freak out!”

“What are you going to do about Chloe?” Tikki asked, but Marinette waved it away.

“I’m going to ignore her. She has no power over me,” Marinette said, reading over the letter again while kicking her legs.

“True,” Tikki admitted, tapping her chin. “But I think she did have a point. You always look out for your friends.”

“Yeah, but how many of those ‘friends’ came to visit me when I left?” Marinette said pointedly, and Tikki conceded with a nod.

“Is that why you left? To see who would come?”

Marinette set down the letter and pursed her lips.

“That’s one reason. I wanted to get away, but I also wanted to see who my real friends are,” she said, resting her chin on her fist. “I wanted to see who cared enough to chase after me, and I guess Adrien is the only real friend I had after all. Funny how I spent all that time hoping he would notice me when in reality, he always had.”

“He really thinks highly of you,” Tikki remarked, flitting over to rest beside her.

“I know. My heart was beating so fast when he said those things. Do you think it means he likes me?” Marinette buried her face with a grin.

“It definitely means he knows how amazing you are, and I’m sure you can catch his attention romantically too. Especially when you two are hanging out so much,” Tikki said, touching her arm with a small paw.

“I feel like all of my dreams are coming true,” Marinette said with a smile.

“With everything you give to the city, I think you deserve it,” Tikki said encouragingly.

“Well, one thing is for sure, I need to defeat Hawkmoth before I become a famous fashion designer and go to New York. That’s priority number one. Chat Noir, Queen Bee, Rena- oh,” Marinette sat up abruptly.

“What’s the matter?”

“Well, Alya and Nino are Rena Rouge and Carapace, but after everything…I don’t know if I still trust them,” she said, curling her shoulders. “I don’t doubt that they would help Ladybug, but if I know who they are then it might affect me. Do you think I made a mistake picking people close to me?”

“I think that’s a question for someone with more experience picking,” Tikki advised, and Marinette tapped her fingers in thought.

“You’re right, Tikki. Let’s go.”

Master Fu was playing cards with Wayzz when Marinette knocked on the door and poked her head in.

“Marinette, what brings you here?’ He asked calmly, lowering his hand.

“I could use some advice. Do you have a minute?” She asked, and Wayzz peeked over his cards.

“We are in the middle of a game,” he said pointedly, but Master Fu cast him a sly smile.

“It’s okay,” he said, splaying his royal flush for Wayzz to see. “I was just winning. What is on your mind?”

Marinette sat on the mat, hugging her knees to her chest as Wayzz flitted off grumpily. She took a deep breath before diving in, sparing no details. Volpina, Lila, her friends, changing schools, leaving Alya. Everything. And Master Fu listened patiently while she talked, sipping his tea thoughtfully every now and then.

“I’m sorry, Master, but I think I made a mistake picking my friends to be Rena Rouge and Carapace,” she finished, head hanging low. “I don’t think I’m fit to choose our partners anymore.”

“Marinette,” Master Fu said with one of his kind, grandfatherly smiles. “We cannot blame ourselves for the actions of others. Your friends have made choices outside of your control. That does not mean that your judgment was lacking when you picked them. People change, and that is no one’s fault, just the natural order of things.”

“So, you won’t be mad if I pick someone else next time I need help?” Marinette asked, glancing up at him like a small child waiting to be scolded.

“You must pick allies you can trust. Whoever that happens to be in the moment,” he said, and she felt her shoulders relax.

“Thank you, Master. I feel a lot better. Sorry to interrupt your game,” she bowed respectfully before standing up.

“It’s okay. I have a fairly large lead on Wayzz,” he waved it away with a chuckle. “Come back anytime.”

“I will. And next time, I’ll choose people I know I can count on.”

***

“You’re in an awfully good mood,” Macy remarked as Marinette took her seat in home room, a wide grin stretched across her lips.

“Did something good happen? Spill!” Eliott said, leaning in close.

“Can you two keep a secret?” Marinette said in a hushed tone.

“Oh, if there’s anything we aristocrats know how to do it’s keep secrets,” Eliott assured her.

“Yeah, you’re our friend now. You can count on us,” Macy echoed with a kind smile, and Marinette bit her lip.

“Clara Nightingale wants me to design for her,” she whispered, and Macy and Eliott’s eyebrows raised, mouths hanging agape.

“No way!” Eliott gasped.

“Marinette, that’s huge,” Macy squealed, bouncing a little before regaining her composure and glancing around. “Don’t worry. We will totally keep it on the downlow, but I can’t wait to see the look on Gabrielle’s face when it goes public.”

“Pretty soon we’ll be going to Berlin in your private jet, Marinette,” Eliott said with a laugh, nudging her with his elbow. “Speaking of, you still need to see my yacht.”

“Oh, and we should totally have tea at my house! We just had the theater redone,” Macy added.

“I’d love to,” she said with a giggle. “Clara is supposed to come over today, so I’ll tell you how it goes.”

“We want all of the details tomorrow,” Macy said as Mr. Mercier entered the room and called for everyone to settle down. “We can rendezvous at my place.”

“Sounds good.”

When school ended, Marinette rushed home, adorned with a giddy smile. She wondered what type of design Clara wanted. A dress? Or maybe a tasteful pantsuit? Her mind was already buzzing with ideas. She only hoped that she didn’t mess everything up. What if she designed something, and Clara hated it? Or worse what if Audrey Bourgeois slammed her design in the next issue of her magazine because she refused to help Chloe? Then she could ruin Clara’s career, and it would be all Marinette’s fault!

“Hi, sweetie. How was school?” Sabine greeted when she entered the bakery.

“Fine, except for the fact that I have no talent, and I’m going to ruin Clara Nightingale,” she said dryly, and her parents exchanged concerned looks.

“That’s not true. My daughter has all the talent in the world, and she can do anything!” Tom said, scooping her into a tight hug. “After all, she comes by it naturally.”

He gestured to a large wedding cake resting in the back.

“You’re just nervous, sweetie. You’re going to be great,” Sabine said, patting her shoulder as the bell above the door chimed, and a woman wearing a hat and sunglasses entered.

“Welcome! What can we get for you today?” Sabine asked politely.

“What I’m after is not sweet; there’s someone here I want to meet,” she said, lowering her sunglasses to peek over at Marinette with a smile. “It’s been sometime since we’ve seen one another, but your designs are like no other.”

“Clara Nightingale! You’re here!” Marinette gaped, spine stiffening.

“I want to ask you a request of mine. I’ll run it by you if you’ve got time.”

“Yes, I have so much time!” Marinette said, then taking a moment to compose herself, gestured to the back door. “Why don’t we chat upstairs?”

“Fine by me. This request is top secret, you see,” Clara said, following Marinette up to the apartment. Once they were safely away from the public eye, Clara removed her disguise with a sigh of relief. “Thank you for meeting with me. I assume you read your grandmother’s letter.”

“I did. It arrived yesterday,” Marinette nodded, putting on a pot of tea.

“Excellent! Then you know why I’m here.” Marinette jumped a little when she turned to find herself face-to-face with Clara. “Ever since I met you, I felt a connection between us like our destinies were entwined. I loved that hat you designed for Adrien, and Gina’s scarf was to die for, so, Marinette Dupain-Cheng, would you be willing to design for me?”

“Doesn’t Gabriel usually design your clothes? Wouldn’t you rather see a professional?” Marinette twirled, a lock of her hair, but Clara took her hands with a confident smile.

“Gabriel’s designs are wonderful, but I think you can capture my essence for this. I’ve been nominated for a music award, and I want you to design my dress for the ceremony,” Clara explained. “You and I are both young and passionate about our crafts, and I think you can bring something that Gabriel can’t, so what do you say?”

Clara’s gaze bore into Marinette’s hopefully, and she shifted her weight.

“I’ll do my best,” Marinette said with a gulp, and Clara bounced in delight.

“Thank you, Marinette! This favor is one I won’t forget!” Clara pulled her in for a tight hug. “Your willingness means so much and very soon I’ll be in touch.”

Clara released her hold before happily trotting back out the door, hat and sunglasses in hand, leaving Marinette standing stunned in the kitchen. When the teapot on the stove began to screech, she blinked out of her trance and set it aside, barely capable of containing her smile.

Her day just kept getting better and better.

***

Adrien removed his fencing gloves as he opened his locker, tossing them into his open bag with a sigh. Another long day of watching Lila manipulate everyone. Even he had to admit it was getting old, especially since Nino spent a large portion of his free time helping Alya with her deputy duties which were really Lila’s class representative duties that she came up with excuses to get out of.

He thought back to Marinette’s anguished sobs the previous evening over her former friends and felt his stomach flip. Seeing her so upset was nauseating in a way Adrien had never felt before. Maybe it was because Marinette was always positive and upbeat, doing her best to help others even when she had problems of her own. He wanted to help her in some way, but he wasn’t quite sure how.

“Why the long face?” Kagami’s voice startled him, and he turned to face her as she leaned against the locker next to his.

“Just tired,” he said, slinging his bag over one shoulder and shutting his locker.

“You’ve been like this for the past week,” she remarked, watching him pace up the aisle toward the door. “Ever since Marinette left.”

“It’s been a long week. I’ve had a lot going on,” he said with a shrug.

“You miss her?” Adrien stopped short at the end of the row and glanced back at Kagami over one shoulder.

“She’s my friend, why wouldn’t I?” He quirked a brow, and Kagami shoved away from the locker, slowly approaching him.

“I do have to wonder why she up and left so suddenly. Rumor has it that she had a jealousy spat with that Italian girl in your class,” Kagami said purposefully. “What was her name again? Lie-la?”

“Yeah.” Adrien said curtly, adjusting the strap of his bag.

“She sure has everyone enamored,” Kagami paused beside him and cocked a hip. “Well, almost everyone.”

“Why do you care?” Adrien asked, eyes narrowing skeptically.

“I don’t,” she shrugged, tilting her chin to meet his gaze.

“So why bring it up?”

“Because you and I both know the truth, and I suspect Marinette does too,” she said with a defiant smirk. “She’s a liar.”

Adrien let out a breath, relaxing his shoulders a little.

“How’d you find out?” He asked, turning to face her head-on.

“She claimed that her great grandfather was a world-champion fencer who invented a secret technique, but my family has held the championship title for the last six generations,” Kagami explained. “Plus, her stories are so obviously farfetched and self-congratulating.”

“Tell that to everyone else,” he grumbled bitterly.  

“It’s not really my place,” Kagami said indifferently. “I’m just the school ice queen.”

“So, you’re stuck with this knowledge too,” Adrien sighed, deflating a little.

“After what happened with Marinette, I have no interest in confronting her. If your classmates want to be sheep, I say let them,” she shrugged. “No sense in letting it upset you. They could easily figure it out too if they applied an ounce of brain power.”

“Well, yeah, but she’s using all of them. I thought her lies were harmless, but she has everyone bending over backwards to help her, and Marinette left the school hurt…I’m starting to get a little fed up,” Adrien averted his gaze that nausea returning to his stomach.

“So, you call her out,” Kagami said as if it were obvious. “People trust your word, and you have enough celebrity pull to prove it.”

“Yeah, but…” He winced, and Kagami rolled her eyes.

“Oh, right. That would require you to actually grow a spine, my mistake,” she pressed a hand over her mouth, pushing passed him with a taunting smirk. “Well, then I guess we’ll just have to hope your friends see the light eventually. See you later.”

Adrien’s hands clenched into fists as she sauntered from the locker room, biting his tongue as anger swelled in his chest, and the feeling in his gut grew stronger. Letting out a heated breath, he stalked toward the door, blinking in surprise when it opened, and Lila appeared before him. She wasted no time latching onto him.

“Adrien, you’ve been avoiding me,” she said with her sugary-sweet lilt. “You promised to help me catch up on my school work.”

“Sorry. I don’t think I can anymore. Why don’t you ask Max?” He said, unhooking her arms from around his neck.

“But you promised,” she pouted, and Adrien’s stomach churned.

“I’ve got a lot going on, Lila. Photoshoots, private lessons, that sort of stuff,” he said, taking a purposeful step away from her.

“You seem to have enough time to go visit Marinette,” she said accusingly, crossing her arms over her chest as his jaw hung slack. “Don’t think I haven’t noticed.”

“Lila-”

“She’s the one who’s lying, ya know. I’m sure she has told you all kinds of nasty things about me, but they’re false,” Lila said, shoulders tense. “She’s just trying to turn you against me because she’s jealous.”

“That’s not true, Lila,” Adrien said, his anger bubbling hotter. “Marinette just wants to move on.”

“Is that why she went to Jagged’s concert just to try to make me look bad?” She pressed.

“No, that’s not-”

“Alya is still upset over their fight. Marinette ripped her heart out and stomped on it.”

“Only because-”

“Honestly, Marinette is the worst person I’ve ever met.” Adrien felt something in his chest snap like a rubber band stretched too far, and that feeling in his gut surged up to his throat.

“Enough, Lila!” He shouted over her, and she flinched, cupping her hands over her mouth. “Your lies won’t work on me, and sooner or later everyone else is going to see through you too, and you’ll be left all alone. Is that what you want?” He barely gave her a moment to respond before continuing. “Marinette poured her heart and soul into her friends. She made sacrifices for them and never once asked for anything in return, and now you’ve gone and turned her best friend against her and convinced everyone that she’s jealous. If anyone here is a terrible person, it’s you.”

Lila’s face hardened, her whole countenance darkening.

“I see how it is, Adrien,” she said, squaring her jaw. “If you choose to side with her over me then I can’t help what happens to you. I own this school now, and there’s nothing you or Marinette can do about it.”

Turning over her shoulder, she slapped Adrien with her hair on her way out, and he balled his hands into tight fists. A new feeling entered his gut, one that drove him forward until he stood outside Chloe’s door. His fist pounded against the wood, breaths short and hot until she opened the door and quirked a brow.

“I want to help you take down Lila.”

Chloe’s eyebrows raised in surprise, but the shock was soon replaced by a sinister smirk.

“Excellent.”

[corkcitylibraries]

Seamus Murphy | Tributes in Verse

Blackpool has links with more individuals who have contributed to Cork’s cultural history than might initially be realised.

Chief amongst these is the sculptor, Seamus Murphy.

At the age of 14 he began an apprenticeship which ended with him becoming, in his own words, “the only legitimate stonecarver in Cork for 25 years’’.

In 1934 he opened his studio/workshop on Watercourse Road, Blackpool. There he produced many of his works which are now judiciously distributed throughout the city.

Seamus Murphy was to stonecarving what Harry Clarke was to stained-glass windows or James Joyce to literature, each a renowned master at their craft.

For generations poetry has been used as a concise and eloquent way of paying tribute to individuals who stood apart in terms of their contribution to our nation’s cultural heritage.

In 1980, five years after his death, The Cork Review published an edition dedicated to the memory of Seamus, featuring recollections of the man and his work through essays and poetry.

Blackpool library has chosen the poems printed in that volume as its focus in celebrating Heritage Week 2020.

In this exceptional year when we came to realise that not everything we take for granted is carved in stone we remember Seamus Murphy whose works in stone remind us that some things do, in fact, endure.

Each poem is a poignant reflection on the sculptor. Murphy himself might have approved of how Christy Kenneally, a native of Blackpool, put it:

                  “And when ‘twas time to die

                  God chisel hammer-honed him down

                  to His image and likeness

                  called his name

                  and freed him from his plinth ‘’.

 Here is a selection of poems, chosen by library staff about Seamus Murphy:

Seamus  Murphy

‘Stone is in my system’

Of the materials he mastered

Stone meant the most to him:

Time and again

The tough and stubborn grain

Was civilised

By his bright chisels

 Showing its secret strength

As clear thought,

As sound feeling.

 No small matter this

Recreation

Of the deeper core

 Now tools forget his hand

And lose precision.

The streets grow dull without that keen

    perception,

Without those eyes

And that warm wit

Among curious lines.

 Light on his feet,

With his grey hair on end,

Gentle, but stubborn and active as a terrier,

A small man goes away

Leaving us here like old dust and chippings.

 He will be missed by all manner of people.

And yet we have been lucky:

Such cut and character

Bite into time,

And so we keep his mark.

 Look: on her mountain the young saint’s

   Tranquil stance.

And the steady face of courage in the city park.

                                                          by Seán Lucy

Gobnait   (for Seamus Murphy)

 witch now in this stone bewitched,

stone robed in our present mythologies

of ordinariness : a Bandon cloak

about your buxom form, no hint

of holy or satanic slyness;

around you a feast of green hills,

the familiar drone of your bees.

 Lady, for so now you are, behold my

incompetence to reach back to innocence,

to shift the mandrake root by prayer :

I need an older medicine,

as once you practised in the nights

on stone alters alone with the

winds and hills for congregations.

 such priests are dead as were before

Patrick and taught no grim theologies

but the unisons of earth and star:

Gobnait, recall the midnights and the

moons, saint of people and their witch,

and from your stone plinth hear me:

magic the mandrake from the root.

                              by Robert O’ Donoghue

   In Memoriam Seamus Murphy:  October 1975

 It is deserted today in the municipal park;

Deserted swing and slide, deserted path and riverbank;

Yet the more deserted the municipal park by the river

The more life-like appears the Virgin of the Twilight.

 What is a sculpture, Daddy?

A small girl asks of her father

As they wander through the municipal park

And he points to a sculpture

Named Virgin of the Twilight

And he stoops down and he explains:

“That was made by a man called Seamus Murphy

And it is a sculpture ‘’.

 And the daughter stares up at the Madonna and child

Carved in white limestone

And the father stares down at the daughter transfixed

In her fascination with the mystery of birth

Knowing that she too one day will wait

Alone and desolate in the world

Bereft lit creased soaked scourged

By wind rain sunlight and snow.

 “And where is Seamus Murphy now? ‘’

Cried out the small girl turning upward her eyes:

“He has gone home to God...’’ stammered the father

“And...’’ as he groped for words

She interposed as though

Already having arrived at

A final, restful and most satisfactory conclusion:

“And he has left his sculpture behind him, Daddy’’.

 And the sculpture remains:

And father after daughter

Disappears off

Into the vanishing light.

                                                            by  Paul Durcan

    Seamus Murphy, died 2nd October, 1975.

Walking in the graveyard, a maze

Of angels and families

The path is coiled like a shaving of wood

We stop to read the names

 In time they all come around

Again, the spearbearer, the spongebearer

Ladder and pillar

Scooped from shallow beds

 Carrying black clothes

Whiskey and ham for the wake

The city revolves

White peaks of churches clockwise lifting and falling

 The hill below the barracks

The sprouting sandstone walls go past

Finding below the old clockface

 The long rambles of the spider

In the narrow bed of a saint

The names in stones travelling

Into a winter of stone.

                                                       by Eiléan Ni Chuilleanáin

Seamus Murphy - Sculptor

The hat

incongruous

upon a head

half-finished.

The face beneath

crevised and quarried

by the dint of searching...

searching for life and grace

where we saw

stone:

that face

soft planed

sandpapered

saved from all severity

by a sad, wry eye

And when ‘twas time to die

God chisel hammer-honed him down

to His image and likeness

called his name and freed him from the plinth.

                                       by Christy Kenneally

[royalrastafariannaynays]

Space For Work And Play

          It’s early April, or so the humans call it, when Jade and Kanaya knock on your door, and ask you to come and help them plant their garden. 

          Jade holds out a sunflower-printed smock, and Kanaya carefully places a wide straw hat upon your head, and even as you look down at your pajamas in wonder, you feel excitement begin to rush through your carapace. 

       Jade giggles, and Kanaya claps, and they send you upstairs to put on Approprate Attire For Outdoor Activity, Darling. 

          It doesn’t take long at all for you to find some of the shorts Roxy has left laying around, and one of the sleeveless t-shirts Jane has stacked carefully in her closet, without waking either of them. And then you’re off! On an impulse you sling the smock around your waist and don the sun hat, and when you come outside in that and sandals, the other two girls applaud you. 

          It’s silly, really, but you’re very... stoked? Is that the word Dave uses? 

          Yes, stoked. 

          Jade leads the way to her house while Kanaya lists off an obnoxiously long list of plants to be put in the ground this year. You know that Jade plants a large amount of things, fairly regularly. And it’s easy for her to harvest them, with her strong arms and her god powers. 

          With your own spindly hands, though, you can’t imagine you’ll be of much use. 

          But... when you get to the house, you stop. There’s a small fenced-in garden sitting, freshly harvested maybe the day before, and then. 

          “Oh Jade, where did all your flowers go?” you ask her, hands over your mouth. She laughs, and points to a stack of boxes to the north side of the house. 

          Kanaya is hoisting her skirt up to tie into a knot on her thigh, for easy kneeling, and doesn’t indicate anything to you. 

          So you’re puzzled. 

          “We have to plant those?” you ask, and Jade nods. 

          “Yeah! They die with the snow each year, and then we plant them again!” 

          Jade’s home is a single story with a porch that wraps all the way around. There are a few trees, the existence of which still mildly amazes you. And then there’s the entire front of the house, which is usually surrounded by bright patches of blooms. 

          Some of them attract butterflies, some of them attract these precious tiny birds that flash about in the sun. Some of them even collect small swarms of bees from the hive around back of Jade’s home! Amazing little animals and living things, and so much green. 

          The existence of all of the pure green stopped amazing you several years ago. But when the sun hits it just right, every blade of grass is its own beautiful scale mountain. And each weed is a valuable life. Jade says they have to be taken out sometimes, and mowed down. It made you sad, at first. 

          But then she told you that the weeds had to be removed so that the big, lovely flowers and vegetables could grow. It made you feel better. But not until you started cultivating a little dandelion patch in your own yard. 

          “Well, the only thing you know how to grow right now is weeds, dear,” Kanaya tells you, and nudges you on the arm to follow her. 

          Somewhere in your wonderment, Jade has let Kanaya take the lead. She’s currently moving what you can now see is a great gray crate of tiny plastic flower pots to the left side of the house. That’s where you’ll begin, then? 

          That part of the garden only has a strip of empty dirt curling around the front. The rest is bushes and a tree. Okay. 

          It’s a lot of work ahead of you, you know it. 

          And as you sink to your knees in the cool grass, Jade and Kanaya sink beside you. Jade digs a tiny hole, eagerly, and then hands you a plant. Kanaya hands you a trowel, and Jade goes to fetch a bag of soil from beside the boxes. With a soft touch, Kanaya takes your clawed hand in her own. 

          “Now, what you do first,” she begins, humming a little. “You dig your hole, and you take your flowers from the plastic.” 

             You nod as she does this through your hands, and then pushes your hand toward the soil. It’s cool on your fingers as you place the flowers so that the top of their soil sits level with the dirt around it. Kanaya nods, and then moves your hands away. 

             Jade drops a heavy bag next to you, and snips the top open with a thick pair of scissors. When you look curious, she barks and reaches out to take your fingers. “Well? Touch it!” she insists, and you’re shoved into the potting soil to your wrists. It’s... cool, and then also a little warm. It feels damp and good on your fingers, and you find yourself grinding handfuls of it in your grasp. 

             Kanaya makes a distressed noise and moves away. 

          “That is what the trowel is for, Jade,” she scolds, and Jade laughs a big laugh before sitting back on her haunches. 

          “This is when you fill those extra holes on the edges with some new dirt!” she says, and you nod without paying attention to their little spat. You use the trowel, despite your dirty hands, and shovel small amounts of dirt into the empty spaces. Kanaya nods, approving, and so does Jade. 

             You’re pleased with yourself. 

             It feels so... unreasonably good to be doing this. Finally, you’re planting things properly! 

             Kanaya shows you how to pat down the soil with the trowel, Jade shows you with her hands, just in case, and then they both explain very clearly that each one needs a little water right after being planted. But Not Too Much, and just enough to get them a sip, silly! :B

             The rest of the afternoon goes by in a blur of flowers and hard work. You’re sweating and wiping sweat from your brow, and Jade is instructing you on proper spacing and good color combinations. 

             Kanaya informs you how often they should be watered, and which ones are best in half shade or direct sunlight. Jade tosses a piece of root at Kanaya, and gets a fistful of leaves smashed into her hair. They’re both laughing, and cavorting, and you fall back on the grass. 

             They tease you, tell you that you blend in too well. 

             There are a lot of jokes about your literal green thumbs. 

             And there are a lot of explanations as to why it’s called that in the first place. For both you and Kanaya. 

             And it’s fun.

[readbookywooks]

And so it was that, a week later, Granny locked the cottage door and hung the key on its nail in the privy. The goats had been sent to stay with a sister witch further along the hills, who had also promised to keep an Eye on the cottage. Bad Ass would just have to manage without a witch for a while. Granny was vaguely aware that you didn't find the Unseen University unless it wanted you to, and the only place to start looking was the town of Ohulan Cutash, a sprawl of a hundred or so houses about fifteen miles away. It was where you went to once or twice a year if you were a really cosmopolitan Bad Assian: Granny had only been once before in her entire life and hadn't approved of it at all. It had smelt all wrong, she'd got lost, and she distrusted city folk with their flashy ways. They got a lift on the cart that came out periodically with metal for the smithy. It was gritty, but better than walking, especially since Granny had packed their few possessions in a large sack. She sat on it for safety. Esk sat cradling the staff and watching the woods go by. When they were several miles outside the village she said, “I thought you told me plants were different in forn parts.” “So they are.” “These trees look just the same.” Granny regarded them disdainfully. “Nothing like as good,” she said. In fact she was already feeling slightly panicky. Her promise to accompany Esk to Unseen University had been made without thinking, and Granny, who picked up what little she knew of the rest of the Disc from rumour and the pages of her Almanack, was convinced that they were heading into earthquakes, tidal waves, plagues and massacres, many of them diverse or even worse. But she was determined to see it through. A witch relied too much on words ever to go back on them. She was wearing serviceable black, and concealed about her person were a number of hatpins and a breadknife. She had hidden their small store of money, grudgingly advanced by Smith, in the mysterious strata of her underwear. Her skirt pockets jingled with lucky charms, and a freshly-forged horseshoe, always a potent preventative in time of trouble, weighed down her handbag. She felt about as ready as she ever would be to face the world. The track wound down between the mountains. For once the sky was clear, the high Ramtops standing out crisp and white like the brides of the sky (with their trousseaux stuffed with thunderstorms) and the many little streams that bordered or crossed the path flowed sluggishly through strands of meadowsweet and go-fasterroot. By lunchtime they reached the suburb of Ohulan (it was too small to have more than one, which was just an inn and a handful of cottages belonging to people who couldn't stand the pressures of urban life) and a few minutes later the cart deposited them in the town's main, indeed its only, square. It turned out to be market day. Granny Weatherwax stood uncertainly on the cobbles, holding tightly to Esk's shoulder as the crowd swirled around them. She had heard that lewd things could happen to country women who were freshly arrived in big cities, and she gripped her handbag until her knuckles whitened. If any male stranger had happened to so much as nod at her it would have gone very hard indeed for him. Esk's eyes were sparkling. The square was a jigsaw of noise and colour and smell. On one side of it were the temples of the Disc's more demanding deities, and weird perfumes drifted out to join with the reeks of commerce in a complex ragrug of fragrances. There were stalls filled with enticing curiosities that she itched to investigate. Granny let the both of them drift with the crowd. The stalls were puzzling her as well. She peered among them, although never for one minute relaxing her vigilance against pickpockets, earthquakes and traffickers in the erotic, until she spied something vaguely familiar. There was a small covered stall, black draped and musty, that had been wedged into a narrow space between two houses. Inconspicuous though it was, it nevertheless seemed to be doing a very busy trade. Its customers were mainly women, of all ages, although she did notice a few men. They all had one thing in common, though. No one approached it directly. They all sort of strolled almost past it, then suddenly ducked under its shady canopy. A moment later and they would be back again, hand just darting away from bag or pocket, competing for the world's Most Nonchalant Walk title so effectively that a watcher might actually doubt what he or she had just seen. It was quite amazing that a stall so many people didn't know was there should be quite so popular. “What's in there?” said Esk. “What's everyone buying?” “Medicines,” said Granny firmly. “There must be a lot of very sick people in towns,” said Esk gravely. Inside, the stall was a mass of velvet shadows and the herbal scent was thick enough to bottle. Granny poked a few bundles of dry leaves with an expert finger. Esk pulled away from her and tried to read the scrawled labels on the bottles in front of her. She was expert at most of Granny's preparations, but she didn't recognise anything here. The names were quite amusing, like Tiger Oil, Maiden's Prayer and Husband's Helper, and one or two of the stoppers smelled like Granny's scullery after she had done some of her secret distillations. A shape moved in the stall's dim recesses and a brown wrinkled hand slid lightly on to hers. “Can I assist you, missy?” said a cracked voice, in tones of syrup of figs, “Is it your fortune you want telling, or is it your future you want changing, maybe?” “She's with me,” snapped Granny, spinning around, “and your eyes are betraying you, Hilta Goatfounder, if you can't tell her age.” The shape in front of Esk bent forward. “Esme Weatherwax?” it asked. “The very same,” said Granny. “Still selling thunder drops and penny wishes, Hilta? How goes it?” “All the better for seeing you,” said the shape. “What brings you down from the mountains, Esme? And this child - your assistant, perhaps?” “What's it you're selling, please?” asked Esk. The shape laughed. “Oh, things to stop things that shouldn't be and help things that should, love,” it said. “Let me just close up, my dears, and I will be right with you.” The shape bustled past Esk in a nasal kaleidoscope of fragrances and buttoned up the curtains at the front of the stall. Then the drapes at the back were thrown up, letting in the afternoon sunlight. “Can't stand the dark and fug myself,” said Hilta Goatfounder, “but the customers expect it. You know how it is.” “Yes,” Esk nodded sagely. “Headology.” Hilts, a small fat woman wearing an enormous hat with fruit on it, glanced from her to Granny and grinned. “That's the way of it,” she agreed. “Will you take some tea?” They sat on bales of unknown herbs in the private corner made by the stall between the angled walls of the houses, and drank something fragrant and green out of surprisingly delicate cups. Unlike Granny, who dressed like a very respectable raven, Hilts Goatfounder was all lace and shawls and colours and earrings and so many bangles that a mere movement of her arms sounded like a percussion section falling off a cliff. But Esk could see the likeness. It was hard to describe. You couldn't imagine them curtseying to anyone. “So,” said Granny, “how goes the life?” The other witch shrugged, causing the drummers to lose their grip again, just when they had nearly climbed back up. “Like the hurried lover, it comes and goe-” she began, and stopped at Granny's meaningful glance at Esk. “Not bad, not bad,” she amended hurriedly. “The council have tried to run me out once or twice, you know, but they all have wives and somehow it never quite happens. They say I'm not the right sort, but I say there'd be many a family in this town a good deal bigger and poorer if it wasn't for Madame Goatfounder's Pennyroyal Preventives. I know who comes into my shop, I do. I remember who buys buckeroo drops and ShoNuff Ointment, I do. Life isn't bad. And how is it up in your village with the funny name?” “Bad Ass,” said Esk helpfully. She picked a small clay pot off the counter and sniffed at its contents. “It is well enough,” conceded Granny. “The handmaidens of nature are ever in demand.” Esk sniffed again at the powder, which seemed to be pennyroyal with a base she couldn't quite identify, and carefully replaced the lid. While the two women exchanged gossip in a kind of feminine code, full of eye contact and unspoken adjectives, she examined the other exotic potions on display. Or rather, not on display. In some strange way they appeared to be artfully half-hidden, as if Hilts wasn't entirely keen to sell. “I don't recognise any of these,” she said, half to herself. “What do they give to people?” “Freedom,” said Hilts, who had good hearing. She turned back to Granny. “How much have you taught her?” “Not that much,” said Granny. “There's power there, but what kind I'm not sure. Wizard power, it might be.” Hilts turned around very slowly and looked Esk up and down. “Ah,” she said, “That explains the staff. I wondered what the bees were talking about. Well, well. Give me your hand, child.” Esk held out her hand. Hilta's fingers were so heavy with rings it was like dipping into a sack of walnuts. Granny sat upright, radiating disapproval, as Hilts began to inspect Esk's palm. “I really don't think that is necessary,” she said sternly. “Not between us.” “You do it, Granny,” said Esk, “in the village. I've seen you. And teacups. And cards.” Granny shifted uneasily. “Yes, well,” she said. “It's all according. You just hold their hand and people do their own fortune-telling. But there's no need to go around believing it, we'd all be in trouble if we went around believing everything.” “The Powers That Be have many strange qualities, and puzzling and varied are the ways in which they make their desires known in this circle of firelight we call the physical world,” said Hilts solemnly. She winked at Esk. “Well, really,” snapped Granny. “No, straight up,” said Hilts. “It's true.” “Hmph.” “I see you going upon a long journey,” said Hilts. “Will I meet a tall dark stranger?” said Esk, examining her palm. “Granny always says that to women, she says -” “No,” said Hilts, while Granny snorted. “But it will be a very strange journey. You'll go a long way while staying in the same place. And the direction will be a strange one. It will be an exploration.” “You can tell all that from my hand?” “Well, mainly I'm just guessing,” said Hilts, sitting back and reaching for the teapot /the lead drummer, who had climbed halfway back, fell on to the toiling cymbalists/. She looked carefully at Esk and added, “A female wizard, eh?” “Granny is taking me to Unseen University,” said Esk. Hilta raised her eyebrows. “Do you know where it is?” Granny frowned. “Not in so many words,” she admitted. “I was hoping you could give me more explicit directions, you being more familiar with bricks and things.”

[readbookywooks]

“- if you like. I don't mind about the pike.” “I can't do that,” said Amschat. “Was that a lie?” “No! There is wild country around us, robbers and - things.” Esk nodded brightly. “That's settled, then,” she said. “I don't mind sleeping in the fleeces. And I can pay my way. I can do -” She hesitated; her unfinished sentence hung like a little curl of crystal in the air while discretion made a successful bid for control of her tongue. “- helpful things,” she finished lamely. She was aware that Amschat was looking slightly sideways at his senior wife, who was sewing by the stove. By Zoon tradition she wore nothing but black. Granny would have thoroughly approved. “What sort of helpful things?” he asked. “Washing and sweeping, yesno?” “If you like,” said Esk, “or distillation using the bifold or triple alembic, the making of varnishes, glazes, creams, zuumchats and punes, the rendering of waxes, the manufacture of candles, the proper selection of seeds, roots and cuttings, and most preparations from the Eighty Marvellous Herbs; I can spin, card, rett, Hallow and weave on the hand, frame, harp and Noble looms and I can knit if people start the wool on for me, I can read soil and rock, do carpentry up to the three-way mortise and tenon, predict weather by means of beastsign and skyreck, make increase in bees, brew five types of mead, make dyes and mordants and pigments, including a fast blue, I can do most types of whitesmithing, mend boots, cure and fashion most leathers, and if you have any goats I can look after them. I like goats.” Amschat looked at her thoughtfully. She felt she was expected to continue. “Granny never likes to see people sitting around doing nothing,” she offered. “She always says a girl who is good with her hands will never want for a living,” she added, by way of further explanation. “Or a husband, I expect,” nodded Amschat, weakly. “Actually, Granny had a lot to say about that -” “I bet she did,” said Amschat. He looked at the senior wife, who nodded almost imperceptibly. “Very well,” he said. “If you can make yourself useful you can stay. And can you play a musical instrument?” Esk returned his steady gaze, not batting an eyelid. “Probably.” And so Esk, with the minimum of difficulty and only a little regret, left the Ramtops and their weather and joined the Zoons on their great trading journey down the Ankh. There were at least thirty barges with at least one sprawling Zoon family on each, and no two vessels appeared to be carrying the same cargo; most of them were strung together, and the Zoons simply hauled on the cable and stepped on to the next deck if they fancied a bit of socialising. Esk set up home in the fleeces. It was warm, smelled slightly of Granny's cottage and, much more important, meant that she was undisturbed. She was getting a bit worried about magic. It was definitely getting out of control. She wasn't doing magic, it was just happening around her. And she sensed that people probably wouldn't be too happy if they knew. It meant that if she washed up she had to clatter and splash at length to conceal the fact that the dishes were cleaning themselves. If she did some darning she had to do it on some private part of the deck to conceal the fact that the edges of the hole ravelled themselves together as if . . . as if by magic. Then she woke up on the second day of her voyage to find that several of the fleeces around the spot where she had hidden the staff had combed, carded and spun themselves into neat skeins during the night. She put all thoughts of lighting fires out of her head. There were compensations, though. Every sluggish turn of the great brown river brought new scenes. There were dark stretches hemmed in with deep forest, through which the barges traveled in the dead centre of the river with the men armed and the women below - except for Esk, who sat listening with interest to the snortings and sneezings that followed them through the bushes on the banks. There were stretches of farmland. There were several towns much larger than Ohulan. There were even some mountains, although they were old and flat and not young and frisky like her mountains. Not that she was homesick, exactly, but sometimes she felt like a boat herself, drifting on the edge of an infinite rope but always attached to an anchor. The barges stopped at some of the towns. By tradition only the men went ashore, and only Amschat, wearing his ceremonial Lying hat, spoke to non-Zoons. Esk usually went with him. He tried hinting that she should obey the unwritten rules of Zoon life and stay afloat, but a hint was to Esk what a mosquito bite was to the average rhino because she was already learning that if you ignore the rules people will, half the time, quietly rewrite them so that they don't apply to you. Anyway, it seemed to Amschat that when Esk was with him he always got a very good price. There was something about a small child squinting determinedly at them from behind his legs that made even market-hardened merchants hastily conclude their business. In fact, it began to worry him. When a market broker in the walled town of Zemphis offered him a bag of ultramarines in exchange for a hundred fleeces a voice from the level of his pockets said: “They're not ultramarines.” “Listen to the child!” said the broker, grinning. Amschat solemnly held one of the stones to his eye. “I am listening,” he said, “and they do indeed look like ultramarines. They have the glit and shimmy.” Esk shook her head. “They're just spircles,” she said. She said it without thinking, and regretted it immediately as both men turned to stare at her. Amschat turned the stone over in his palm. Putting the chameleon spircle stones into a box with some real gems so that they appeared to change their hue was a traditional trick, but these had the true inner blue fire. He looked up sharply at the broker. Amschat had been finely trained in the art of the Lie. He recognised the subtle signs, now that he came to think about it. “There seems to be a doubt,” he said, “but 'tis easily resolved, we need only take them to the assayer in Pine Street because the world knows that spircles will dissolve in hypactic fluid, yesno?” The broker hesitated. Amschat had changed position slightly, and the set of his muscles suggested that any sudden movement on the broker's part would see him flat in the dust. And that damn child was squinting at him as though she could see through to the back of his mind. His nerve broke. “I regret this unfortunate dispute,” he said. “I had accepted the stones as ultramarines in good faith but rather than cause disharmony between us I will ask you to accept them as - as a gift, and for the fleeces may I offer this roseatte of the first sorting?” He took a small red stone from a tiny velvet pouch. Amschat hardly looked at it but, without taking his eyes off the man, passed it down to Esk. She nodded. When the merchant had hurried off Amschat took Esk's hand and half-dragged her to the assayer's stall, which was little more than a niche in the wall. The old man took the smallest of the blue stones, listened to Amschat's hurried explanation, poured out a saucerful of hypactic fluid and dropped the stone in. It frothed into nothingness. “Very interesting,” he said. He took another stone in a tweezer and examined it under a glass. “They are indeed spircles, but remarkably fine specimens in their own right,” he concluded. “They are by no means worthless, and I for example would be prepared to offer you - is there something wrong with the little girl's eyes?” Amschat nudged Esk, who stopped trying out another Look. “- I would offer you, shall we say, two zats of silver?” “Shall we say five?” said Amschat pleasantly. “And I would like to keep one of the stones,” said Esk. The old man threw up his hands. “But they are mere curios!” he said. “Of value only to a collector!” “A collector may yet sell them to an unsuspecting purchaser as finest roseattes or ultramarines,” said Amschat, “especially if he was the only assayer in town.” The assayer grumbled a bit at this, but at last they settled on three zats and one of the spircles on a thin silver chain for Esk. When they were out of earshot Amschat handed her the tiny silver coins and said: “These are yours. You have earned them. But -” he hunkered down so that his eyes were on a level with hers, “- you must tell me how you knew the stones were false.” He looked worried, but Esk sensed that he wouldn't really like the truth. Magic made people uncomfortable. He wouldn't like it if she said simply: spircles are spircles and ultramarines are ultramarines, and though you may think they look the same that is because most people don't use their eyes in the right way. Nothing can entirely disguise its true nature. Instead she said: “The dwarves mine spircles near the village where I was born, and you soon learn to see how they bend light in a funny way.” Amschat looked into her eyes for some time. Then he shrugged. “Okay,” he said. “Fine. Well, I have some further business here. Why don't you buy yourself some new clothes, or something? I'd warn you against unscrupulous traders but, somehow, I don't know, I don't think you will have any trouble.” Esk nodded. Amschat strode off through the market place. At the first corner he turned, looked at her thoughtfully, and then disappeared among the crowds. Well, that's the end of sailing, Esk told herself. He's not quite sure but he's going to be watching me now and before I know what's happening the staff will be taken away and there'll be all sorts of trouble. Why does everyone get so upset about magic? She gave a philosophical sigh and set about exploring the possibilities of the town. There was the question of the staff, though. Esk had rammed it deep among the fleeces, which were not going to be unloaded yet. If she went back for it people would start asking questions, and she didn't know the answers. She found a convenient alleyway and scuttled down it until a deep doorway gave her the privacy she required. If going back was out of the question then only one thing remained. She held out a hand and closed her eyes. She knew exactly what she wanted to do-it lay in front of her eyes. The staff mustn't come flying through the air, wrecking the barge and drawing attention to itself. All she wanted, she told herself, was for there to be a slight change in the way the world was organised. It shouldn't be a world where the staff was in the fleeces, it should be a world where it was in her hand. A tiny change, an infinitesimal alteration to the Way Things Were. If Esk had been properly trained in wizardry she would have known that this was impossible. All wizards knew how to move things about, starting with protons and working upwards, but the important thing about moving something from A to Z, according to basic physics, was that at some point it should pass through the rest of the alphabet. The only way one could cause something to vanish at A and appear at Z would be to shuffle the whole of Reality sideways. The problems this would cause didn't bear thinking about. Esk, of course, had not been trained, and it is well known that a vital ingredient of success is not knowing that what you're attempting can't be done. A person ignorant of the possibility of failure can be a halfbrick in the path of the bicycle of history.