Return to White River

     In exchange for a portion of clothing and other supplies every month, the guild would help make sure that law and order was kept in the town. Portia and Rita had spent a considerable amount of time making sure the number of items was fair for the work. They had come to a very equitable agreement, which was an ease to her nerves.

     Draikriel had explained the traps set up around the town, and Portia had quickly gotten the members of the small village to work on disassembling them. The last matter to be taken care of was Shaylin and his state of mind.

     That had been the hardest part for Portia, knowing that she had to deceive the Petri’s confused brain. She had an inkling of how to fix his problem and managed to get Miranda’s cooperation.

     “I brought out the soldier that went to war. It’s time for you to bring out your husband who wants to buy you a pretty dress.” She had told Miranda, leading her by the hand into Enid’s shop.

     ——

     She had led the white pteri towards the dresses and instructed her to wait. She then called Officer Moore for a debriefing and made a quick excuse to leave the room for a moment. It was then that she let Miranda work her magic.

     “Fifteen thousand Neopoints? Ach. Too expensive.” Miranda remarked loudly, riffling through the dresses.

     Shaylin turned towards her, his eyebrows knitting together in confusion.

     “Excuse me, uh….citizen.” He began.

     Miranda turned back towards Shaylin, peering at him for a moment.

     “Yes?”

     “We are trying to conduct very important military business here.”

     “Oh. I’m so sorry. I was just trying to decide on a dress for an upcoming event in a month or so. We normally have a Christmas Ball for the town.” Miranda explained, holding a bright blue cotton dress flush against her body. “How does this dress look?”

     “Oh. Well, I suppose that’s innocent enough….Er…uh…It looks very nice…uh…”

     “Miranda. Miranda Moore.”

     “Er…..Miranda. Yes. Very nice. That dress looks absolutely….er…ahhh….” The Petri’s mouth opened and shut a few times. Miranda’s eyebrows lowered as she saw the fog clear over the sea that was Shaylin’s eyes.

     Shaylin blinked a few times, peering around the shop, before coming to rest on Miranda.

     “Oh, Miranda. That…dress.” He began.

     Miranda drew in a deep breath and smiled.

     “It looks so lovely. Like the outfit you wore when I returned from duty for the last time.”

     “Aye. Aye Shaylin. Glad to have ye back.”

     “B-back? How much time did I lose? Where was I?” He asked, his voice trembling.

     Miranda chuckled, wrapping her wing around him.

     “Oh my dear, you were here. And you were magnificent, but I’ll explain a bit more once we get you home.”

     ——————

     The Rusty Wheel Inn was deserted, save for the lone figure sitting at the long wooden counter holding her head in her hands. She heard the sound of the door opening and closing again and sighed to herself as she nursed her bruised knuckles.

     “Valarie, a drink and a meal if you please. And I’ll take care of the Mayor’s bill.” Portia groaned as she recognized the voice beside her.

     “You sir, Mister Riddle…are a cad, and a hooligan.”

     “And you, Ms. Provoskia, throw a very mean punch.”

     The silence stretched between them for a moment as Val poured a tall can of Neocola into a tankard. Charrie could feel Portia’s anger, cackling and dangerous. If only he could play with it as he had played with the fire in Nicolai’s fireplace.

     “No grog?”

     “No. Not tonight at least.” He shuffled for a moment, and Portia watched him out of the corner of her eye as he grabbed a crudely wrapped package.

     “What’s this? An apology.”

     “A present from a friend. Not me, sadly. I don’t know at this moment what I am to you. But I was threatened heavily if I did not deliver this safety to your hands.”

     She tilted her head curiously, then began to unwrap the package. She smiled when she saw the container.

     “Oh, bless Sokolov’s heart. He shouldn’t have.”

     “How’d you know it was from Ivan?”

     “Nicholai would never send me Kadvo. He’d tell me to come to Ursus and see him in order to get it. I’m guessing the attached card is probably from Nicholai.”

     “Correct again.”

     “Are you mocking me or flattering me?”

     Charlie smiled, placing his hand over his heart.

     “I would never be so stupid as to mock one of Ursus’ finest generals.”

     The silence stretched between them for a few moments.

     "Portia...I...."

     "Charrie..."

     They uttered at the same moment. Portia chuckled, shaking her head.

     "You first, Charrie."

     "N-no. You."

     "I insist."

     Charrie took in a breath, then exhaled. "I'm...sorry Portia. I left without saying goodbye, and...I left because I was scared. Scared of the way you manage to put me completely off-balance. To be honest, you're very distracting sometimes..." He grimaced for a moment as Portia's eyebrow lifted.

     "What I'm trying to say...is...I'm not good at...letting people get...close to me. Not even my own flesh and blood."

     "I...understand that struggle, Charrie. I do."

     "My siblings and I grew up all by ourselves, you see. A set of triplicate Halloween Ixi out in the world trying to make do. My sisters and I were always gifted with magic. It came easy to us, like flying to Miranda and Shaylin, or music to Jackson. It just flowed through us." He paused, tapping his long fingers on the wooden counter for a second.

     “Helene, she was always in tune with the earth. Not as gifted in spell magic as Phoebe or I, but she could make anything grow if she wanted it to. Phoebe is like you, a real firework, always glowing and starting a ruckus. Her gift with potions secured her a position with the Order of the Red Erism.”

     He rubbed the back of his neck absently for a moment.

     "But I...I was different. My magic was always unpredictable, and hard to control. There were many occasions where I came very close to hurting my siblings."

     “Different? How?”

     “Magic is a simple thing, supposedly. Once you learn about the elements. All Neopians, aligned to two elements, although rarely only one can be aligned to. Light and Earth, Darkness and Fire, Air and Fire...typical combinations of magical alignment. The Order of the Red Erism, much as they pretend they’ll let anyone in, has but one strict requirement. You must be aligned to one element, one element, more power. More devotion to one type of magic. Aye?”

     “So your sister...?”

     “Fire aligned entirely, Phoebe is. But unlike her and Helene, I was never sure what my alignment was.”

     Portia tilted her head for a moment, before taking a long swig of her kadvo.

     "You never...knew? Maybe you don't have one."

     Charrie chuckled. "Oh I have one, surely. I can do magic with the best of them. But the problem lies in that I cannot always tell what type is going to come from the tips of my fingers. One day, it may be fire leaping from palm to palm, the next...vines growing below my feet...another day a beam of light....I never know. And it is very hard to control when you cannot predict what is going to happen."

     Charrie set down some Neopoints on the countertop and tipped his hat towards Val.

     "And then, there's the other part of my predicament. Come, we've matters to discuss."

     He exited the tavern in a flourish, the coattails of his long jacket swirling behind him.

     ----

     He held the door open for her, the bell announcing their arrival. Portia's boots thudded on the boards, while Charrie's wingtip shoes clicked against them. He lifted her scarf from her shoulders and set it on the rack, then beckoned her towards the back office with a tilt of his head.

     "What do we have to discuss, Charrie? I don't understand."

     "Portia, there is one thing I wish to discuss with you that is...hard to understand. It is one of those matters that is best shown versus told. I know this is a lot to ask of you, but I will require some trust on your behalf."

     "Trust?"

     "I promise I will not risk your safety in any way, but it is imperative to your understanding of why I chose to leave as I did."

     Portia gazed at Charrie's face, noting the frank honesty in his eyes. With a slight nod, she gave her consent, unsure of the wisdom of her decision.

     With a flourish, he removed his hat from his head, letting the shaggy mop of brown hair loose from its constraints. "May I see your hat please, Portia?" He asked, reaching his hand towards her. Hesitantly, she removed her felt hat from her head, a few stray red tendrils coming loose from her updo as she did so. He handed her his hat, and she felt odd holding it.

     She watched as Charrie held it in his hands for a second, closing his eyes and muttering something under his breath. When he opened them, he gave her a half-smile.

     “I would like you to put on my hat, Portia.”

     “Is this a joke?”

     “No. No. Would I have been so serious earlier if it was?”

     “Put on your hat?”

     “Aye.”

     “Why?”

     “Sometimes...it is good to see life from under the hat brim of another.”

     With hesitation, she lifted the purple silk top hat onto her hair, then with a blink she found she was staring at...herself? With a gasp, she looked down and saw that instead of the long tartan shirt and silk shirt that she had been wearing earlier...a purple-coloured suit clung to her frame.

     "What in the--" she began, only to find that the voice that came out of her mouth didn't sound like hers at all, in fact, it rather sounded like...

     "CHARRIE?"

     "Yes, m'dear?" She saw the Ixi in front of her reply, in a voice that could only be described as her very own.

     "What did you DO?"

     "Oh come now... She heard her voice reply, watching the features of the ixi in front of her shift to what could only be described as a very Charrie-like grin.

     You graduated top of your class at the Ursus military academy, were best friends to the Tsar growing up...and had one of the best educations Neopoints can buy. And you expect me to state the obvious?"

     "Yes." She growled.

     She watched as Charrie strolled over to the mirror, seeming to enjoy the moment.

     "I must say Portia...it is very odd having this much hair. How do you manage?"

     "Give me my body back, you greasy-haired, two-faced naleep!"

     "I must say, it is very nice being a bit more on the thin side."

     "Charrie Riddle, I swear by the Tsar's beard I will use these strong muscles of yours to punch that face, even if it's my own!"

     The melodic chuckle that resonated from the ixi in front of her only served to rile her further.

     "Fine, my dear. The answer is simple. Remove the hat from your head, and all will return to---"

     No sooner had the words flown out of her form's mouth than she was reaching to remove her hat.

     Another blink, and a sigh of relief as she realized she was back in her normal form. She looked up and couldn’t resist.

     “Ouch! What was that for?” Charrie exclaimed, rubbing his aching arm.

     "That was for not giving me a warning."

     "You sure are violent when angry."

     "Being fire-aligned will do that to you." Portia quipped.

     They both sobered for a moment, Charrie rubbing his neck awkwardly.

     "There's some that say I shouldn't be in this business, you know?"

     "You charge for this?"

     "I offer refunds within the first fifteen days. And I will admit, I get a lot of returns, but many times they are...content? Looking at life from under the hat brim of another, they think they get what they want. But often they realize they inherit a whole new set of problems, and they like their old life better."

     "I suppose the grass really isn't greener on the other side."

     Charrie offered her a grim smile, then sighed.

     “I saw your home, you know. Ivan took me there.”

     “Did he now?”

     “Aye. I met Vanka, she’s...quite the hugger.” He replied.

     Portia chuckled.

     “She pinched my cheeks often when I was little. I hated it then, but miss it now.”

     “I realized, when she was taking me down the halls of your home, that you had a good upbringing. Everything growing up was black and white, right or wrong. But mine...so many shades of grey. I had to make choices, to try to protect myself and my sisters. Sometimes I wonder if I made the correct ones.”

     “I’d like to think you have good sense.”

     “Thank you, but there are many who say that my work is questionable at best, and immoral at worst. Who am I to mess with fate?”

     Portia grabbed her coat off the coat rack, and slowly turned towards the door.

     “Charrie, I know you probably don’t need this advice, but I shall give it anyway. The Halloween Ixi remarked, tipping her felt hat.

     “The same forces that determine our fates gave you that gift. It would be a shame for you not to use it.”

     The bell seemed to chime its agreement as she left.

To be continued…