Disclaimer: If I owned these characters, this would be a published novel and I would be rich. Since this is on ff.n and I am a poor music teacher… You get the idea!
Author's Note: Yes, I plagiarized the title for this chapter. It belongs to Mercedes Lackey, but it fit so perfectly!
Chapter 4: Take a Thief
Sandry and Hermione stood beside their teachers in chastened silence. Professor McGonagall had used a point-me spell to locate Hermione, and Dedicate Rosethorn had followed the thread of Sandry's magic that had become tangled in her own back to its source. The moment their respective teachers had caught up with them, both children had received a blistering lecture about the efficacy of thinking ahead before using powerful magic. Professor McGonagall's face had never been so white, nor her lips so thin. Rosethorn's had never looked so angry.
When the two magic instructors finished their lectures and turned to one another, their lips had suddenly begun twitching oddly. If Hermione hadn't known better, she'd have thought they were trying not to laugh.
"Dedicate Rosethorn of Winding Circle Temple in Emelan," Rosethorn said in a stiff tone of voice that yet had an strange lilt to it.
"Professor McGonagall of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry in London," Professor McGonagall said in return. The two mages shook hands. "I don't suppose you have any idea where we are?" Professor McGonagall added.
Dedicate Rosethorn shook her head. "No. And what is troubling to me is that none of these plants is familiar to me in the slightest way." Sandry looked startled and a bit frightened at this. Professor McGonagall merely looked as puzzled as Hermione felt.
"I am a plant mage," Rosethorn said to the two Hogwarts denizens. "My magic works through growing things. As such, I am familiar with at least a few plants in every part of the world. None of these plants are any species I have ever come across."
"My specialty is transfiguration," Professor McGonagall said slowly, "but I so know quite a bit of herbology, and I must say, nothing here seems to be within my knowledge either."
"Professor McGonagall?" Hermione said softly, unsure of the reception her input would receive.
"Yes?"
"Some of these plants look like plants you'd find in a desert in the Muggle world."
"Do they?" Professor McGonagall said thoughtfully. "Then possibly that is where we are."
"Muggle world?" Sandry asked Hermione in an undertone. "What's that?"
"Where we come from, witches and wizards live separately from the non- magic folk. We call the people without magic Muggles," Hermione answered in a whisper.
"Much as I would like to know where we are," Dedicate Rosethorn interposed, "I am equally interested in why we are here. I assume that this is your responsibility?" This last was addressed to Hermione.
"Yes—at least in part," the young witch gulped. "I found this book of spells. I knew it was from the restricted section," here a guilty look at Professor McGonagall, "but it looked so interesting that I read it anyway. When I found the Adservioso Spell, I called my best friends over to look. Ron thought that trying it would—well, would cheer Harry up, so we did." Hermione's eyes were fixed firmly on her boots. Now that she had to explain their reasoning, she herself felt that she had never heard anything so dumb in her life. She waited in apprehension for another lecture from both teachers about their sheer stupidity.
But Professor McGonagall's voice was almost gentle as she addressed Dedicate Rosethorn. "I'm afraid that I must take some responsibility for this lamentable accident myself," she said. Hermione looked up, startled. "I left the book of spells out while I went to attend to another matter. It was a lapse in judgment on my part. These students have just been through a terrible ordeal in which one of their classmates was killed. I couldn't have expected them to be at their most reasonable."
"Whatever it was, it must have been hard for you, too, if one of your students died," Sandry piped up.
Professor McGonagall looked startled, but Dedicate Rosethorn nodded. "You may not have been at your most reasonable, yourself," she said, brusquely. "But this spell. What was it supposed to accomplish, besides the cheering up of Hermione's friend Harry?"
"That's what I don't understand, Professor," Hermione said. "It said it was supposed to take us to the people who most needed our help. There's no one here at all except for these people, and they were trying to help us!"
Before Professor McGonagall could answer, she was engulfed in an explosion of green light. When it dimmed, everyone stared in amazement at a young man in a tattered black tunic and leggings, who was hanging upside-down in the air above their heads. In his hands he clutched a small, green velvet pouch.
Professor McGonagall looked appalled. Her lips thinning almost to the point of disappearing entirely, she stalked over and snatched the pouch from the boy's hands. It chinked softly as she tied it back onto her sash.
The boy had lost the frightened, bewildered look he had first worn. He grinned impishly at the stiffly outraged professor, a mixture of mischief and respect in his grey eyes. "How'd you do that?" he asked.
"You are very lucky that I don't use anti-theft spells that harm the thief, young man!" Professor McGonagall said severely.
"Anti-theft spell?" the boy echoed, still from his midair-upside-down position. "My lady, I've been a thief for most of my life, and I've never heard of anything like that! Do you know how much money you could make with that?"
"I'm sure I could earn quite a satisfactory living with it, if that were my objective," Professor McGonagall said stiffly. "However, it is not."
The boy's eyes grew crafty. "Then, could you teach it to me?"
Hermione and Sandry giggled, earning a quelling look from Dedicate Rosethorn.
"It seems to me that someone in your profession would benefit a good deal more from knowing the counterspell," Professor McGonagall said, eyes narrowing in a way that boded no good.
"Is there one? Could you teach me that too?" the boy asked eagerly. Then, with a bit less panache, he added, "Could you put me down?"
"That depends on who you are and how you got here," she told him firmly.
"My name is Talen. I was a thief and beggar until my father found out about it. Now he and Sparhawk are going to try to make a knight out of me."
"That sounds like a very tall-tale to me," Professor McGonagall said. "Knights and beggars indeed! I don't suppose I can expect a straight answer on how you came to be here either."
"Oh that," the boy said carelessly. "Aphrael put me here. She says I'm needed here, but she wouldn't explain why. I was on my way to Demos with Sephrenia and Sparhawk to begin my training as a Pandion. Please, all the blood is rushing into my head!"
"Aphrael put you here!" the professor muttered disbelievingly. The boy's face really was turning an interesting shade of purple, however. She sighed resignedly and took out her wand. "Finite Incantatum."
Talen fell to the ground in a heap, but sprang to his feet at once. "I don't expect you to believe me about Aphrael," he said reasonably, "but I am telling the truth. For once in my life. Where are we?"
"We don't know that either," Sandry said earnestly. "Your Aphrael didn't tell you?"
"Nope. But how come you don't know? Aren't you from here?"
"So far we haven't met anyone from here," Hermione said. "We all got here because we made some kind of mistake performing a complicated magic spell. Here, your trousers are torn." She pulled out her own wand. "Bracarum Reparum!" Instantly the trouser leg was whole again.
Talen looked at the girl in amazement. "How did you do that?" he asked.
Hermione smiled smugly. "Just a simple spell."
Professor McGonagall stepped between the two young people, thrusting Hermione rather abruptly behind her. "Enough nonsense," she said severely. "It is time to think about finding some shelter before we all get heatstroke."
"We'll need water, too," Dedicate Rosethorn said. "I can be of help, I believe." Her eyes glazed over for a moment, and when they refocused, she said, "There is a large grove of trees in that direction. They are fed by a brook about a mile into the grove."
"What are we to do with the boy?" queried Professor McGonagall.
Dedicate Rosethorn shrugged. "I don't see where we have any choice but to take him with us and keep an eye on him. If he is like the rest of us, perhaps one of his companions is here, too. We can search for them when we try to locate our own people."
Professor McGonagall nodded and addressed the young people. "Well? Let's get on then."
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"Hmmm…. Interesting. Do another one, would you?" B'Elanna Torres murmured, staring intently at her tricorder. Kerowyn and her Companion watched intently. Tom rolled his eyes. B'Elanna and her strange white-clad, mercenary captain friend had come galloping over to them on the telepathic horse with the weird eyes not half an hour ago. Since then, they had done nothing but stand around while his newfound red-headed wizard friend did magic tricks for her to analyze.
"Wingardium Leviosa!"
The sword at Kerowyn's side rose deftly out of its sheath at her side and sailed easily into the air, following the direction of Ron's uplifted wand. Tom noticed that the Herald looked very uncomfortable with this latest development. He could sympathize. He'd felt much the same when the kid had deprived him of his phaser. He tried to flash the woman a reassuring grin, but she didn't appear to notice him. B'Elanna's tricorder beeped and chirped as she single-mindedly observed and manipulated the data it was picking up. The sword did several slow loop-de-loops in the air. So, what? We all just stand here until we get heatstroke while my wife plays with her new toy? Tom sighed gustily, but he might as well have saved his breath. No one paid any attention.
:Oh, now this I really do not appreciate!: An acerbic and extremely annoyed female voice echoed suddenly and painfully in their minds. Startled, everyone turned to stare at Kerowyn's Companion, except for Kero herself, who was staring at her sword. The others belatedly followed her gaze. A flash of gold light surrounded the sword and arched back towards the young wizard who manipulated it. CRACK! As the light hit the tip of the boy's wand, there was a deafening noise. Ron fell backwards abruptly. The sword fell, point first, toward the ground. Everyone leaped out of its path.
"Dammit, Need!" Kerowyn ran toward the weapon, while everyone else stood, stunned. "What the hell do you think you're doing?!"
:He was making me seasick,: the same rusty voice replied soundlessly.
"Seasick!" Kerowyn bellowed incredulously as B'Elanna shook herself from a state of shock that was becoming habitual and hurried to the collapsed wizard. Tom followed. The white-clad woman shook her head disgustedly and looked over at them. "Is he all right?"
B'Elanna nodded. "I think so. He's just stunned. Whatever energy was flowing through that 'wand' of his was somehow turned back onto him. He got a nasty jolt, like an electric shock."
Kerowyn picked up the sword and stalked over to the boy. The starship lieutenants eyed her warily. Kero rolled her eyes. "I'm not going to murder him with this gods-be-dammed sword, don't worry," she snarled. Her next words were directed toward the blade as well as her companions. "This stinkin' hunk of tin is going to heal him, or by Astera's arse I am going to leave it here on this gods-forsaken planet when I go!"
Tom and B'Elanna exchanged looks of puzzlement. The sword sighed. :I suppose I know better by now than to argue with you when you take that tone.:
Kerowyn snorted. "I should think so."
Tom couldn't help himself. "Your sword talks?" he blurted.
The Herald gave him a swift look of amusement as she squatted by the boy and laid the sword gently against him. "You didn't seem very surprised by my talking horse," she countered. "Why should this surprise you?"
B'Elanna favored her newfound friend with a puzzled and slightly sarcastic stare. "Where we come from, inanimate objects aren't generally sentient," she said.
"They aren't where I come from either," Kero snorted. "As far as I know, this piece of tin is one-of-a-kind. And a damn good thing, too," she added under her breath.
:I heard that,: Need muttered testily.
"Where did you find it?" Tom asked, squatting by the young wizard to take a closer look. Remembering the golden light that had flashed from it, he refrained from touching it.
Kerowyn grinned. "It found me. It belonged to my grandmother Kethry, but when I showed up on her doorstep, begging for help on a hopeless quest, the thing demanded to be given to me. It saved my life that night, and I've been stuck with it ever since."
Tom almost asked what hopeless quest she had been on, but his Starfleet etiquette stopped the words before they could escape from his mouth. B'Elanna looked equally curious. Kerowyn appeared to notice their expressions and opened her mouth to speak, but at that moment Ron coughed and sat up.
"Wha—happened?" he croaked.
"Seems that sword you were performing magic tricks with is alive," Tom told the boy. "It didn't take kindly to being tossed around in the air."
:You were making me seasick,: the sword repeated. :I didn't mean to hurt you. Your magic is not compatible with mine.:
"It isn't? I mean, you're magical?" Ron asked eagerly, apparently seeing nothing too strange about talking to a telepathic sword. "Wicked!"
:Last I checked, I was one of the good guys,: the sword remarked irritably.
"Figure of speech."
"I hate to interrupt the party," Kerowyn broke in, "but if we don't find some water and shelter soon, we're gonna be toast in a few more hours."
Tom nodded his emphatic agreement. "Can you stand up?" he asked the boy.
"Sure!" Ron bounded to his feet, then swayed dizzily and would have fallen again if B'Elanna hadn't grabbed his elbow.
"Careful," she said. "You've been shocked pretty badly, and you're probably dehydrated too."
He nodded. "Thanks."
Kerowyn cocked her head as if listening. "Sayvil says there's water in that grove of trees over there," she pointed to her left.
B'Elanna pointed her tricorder in that direction and nodded. "There's a small spring of fresh water about three-point-two kilometers due south."
"Sayvil also says she'll carry the boy if I'll walk," Kero added.
"That's all right, you don't have to," Ron protested. "I'm fine, really."
B'Elanna shook her head. "I don't want to have to drag you all the way. Get up on that horse."
"But I—I've never ridden a horse before."
:I am not a horse, boy,: Sayvil's mental voice rang in their heads. :I'm a Companion. I won't let you fall. Get on.:
Ron obeyed, with a boost from Tom. Kerowyn sheathed her now silent sword, and the small company set off toward the copse of trees in the distance.
