33

According to Doctor Gibbly, the royal physician of Small Monday Island, Aborigine's brain was about as useful as a pickle between his ears.

"Oh, it's possible to recover." The fairy said, as he examined the egret's toenails. "But I daresay if we put his brain back together we wouldn't be any better off for the effort. We'd have to take the magic out of him because his body won't stand another jolt like that, but without the magic he can't really be contained, can he? I'm not that fond of the idea of Aldus here running amok on the island."

Picadilly, who was perched on the doctor's courtyard wall with Popper, frowned. "Well we can't really just leave him like that. It's not fair."

Gibbly snorted. "Fair is a funny word to use with this bird. Aldus Aborigine used to be Captain of the Guard, you know that? He used that position to eliminate innocents; he even killed his own brother! That's why they put Cain's mark on him. Nobody wants to touch a fratricidal egret."

"He has to be healed anyway." Popper said flatly. "The moment we tied him up and took him prisoner he became my responsibility. Can you take care of that, Doctor Gibbly?"

"I believe I can." Gibbly said. "But I'll have to call in help, and I won't do it for free. Can you pay me?"

"Charge it onto the military budget." Popper grumbled. "If Tory doesn't like it he can eat my tail feathers."

Gibbly snorted. "Don't get to attached to those feathers, then. He's likely to scream your ear off, too."

"Nah, we'll just threaten to turn his wife on him. " Picadilly said with a smirk. "Nations would crumble before that woman."

"Undoubtedly." Gibbly nodded. "I'm going to give you a list of things I need. You work at the potions shop, don't you? I seem to recall your face at the desk."

"Well I DID work there." Picadilly grumbled. "I don't think I have a job after skipping out again."

"Well you should know the potions, at least? You can get me what I need?"

Picadilly nodded. Doctor Gibbly fumbled in his jacket pocket for a pen and pad, and began scrawling across it. "Charge these things to the military account and bring them back here forthwith." He said. "I'll need them within two hours. Can you do that?"

Picadilly nodded again, and flitted down to take the note. Popper watched him dart out over the wall and into the city.

"I ought to report back anyway." Popper sighed. "I'll come around as soon as I can and see how you're making out."

Doctor Gibbly smiled. "Good luck with the General."

"Thanks." Popper snorted, and took off.

Tiddly's arrival at the fairy council was a good deal more than fashionably late. In fact, the moment he put his head into the nattering ring, Thombelse threw a handful of fleas at him.

"NOW you show your face!?" she snapped. The fleas were running from Tiddly's guppy, which was snapping them up as quick as it could. "Your big lead was a wild goose chase, Tiddly! Tybalt never told Peter a spell!"

Tiddly puffed "The guard told me—"

"The guard is a fool! Marvella put a safeguard on Peter, preventing him from telling us a direct lie. He said there never was a spell!"

The guppy snapped up the line of fleas all the way to Thombelse's skirt, and started to pick them off like berries. Thombelse kicked it in the head with her white boot and the fish darted off to hide behind Tiddly. Tiddly scowled at the councilwoman.

"At least I had a practical option. Remember your big idea you gave to the General, about sending Aldus Aborigine out to catch our ghoul? It failed." He said.

Thombelse sat up straight. "What are you talking about?"

"Aborigine sidetracked." He said smugly. "He went after Captain Popper and that little clerk Tory sent with him, tried to kill THEM instead of collecting the ghoul. God knows what else he did before he was caught."

"Caught?" Thombelse parroted. She was slowly turning a bright, furious red.

"Yes, caught." Tiddly smirked. "I was a crucial player in that, of course. When things got to be too much for Picadilly and Popper, they came to me for assistance. That's why I was late."

Growling, Thombelse ripped off a chunk of the phosphorescent mushroom and chucked it at Tiddly's head. It bounced off his bald dome. "Mr. Tiddly, if you will recall, it was YOU who suggested the release of Aldus Aborigine! It was YOU who oversaw his deployment! I was merely the one who ran the idea by the king!"

"And therefore, the one who will be blamed for the folly." Tiddly said with a smirk.

Thombelse gave a frustrated growl and ripped the entire cap off the mushroom, throwing it at Tiddly and knocking him onto his back. He rolled like a tortoise.

None of the other council members moved to help him. However, his guppy stared at him for a few moments, lipping invisible bubbles, before settling onto his belly to sleep.

"Peter's run off." She informed him calmly, ignoring his predicament. "The Lost Boys went after him. I believe it would be for the benefit of everyone involved if he was returned to us so Marvella can loosen up his mind again. Until there is some noteworthy development, the Council will adjourn to the palace." The others began to stand, and Thombelse turned, paused a moment, and looked back at him with a smirk. "Coming, Tiddly?"

Tiddly scowled at her, and she left him there pinned between a fish and the ground.

The island was too damned small, Mason decided. He'd been wandering along, feeling rather smug that Mullins had probably been eaten by a monster and wondering what the hell to do with himself, when he spotted an all too familiar shape tromping through the woods the other direction. Mason snorted and cupped his hands over his mouth.

"Oi! Starkey! You still crazy?"

Starkey stumbled and looked up, surprised. The fop grinned in spite of himself and jogged the distance between them.

"Not half as much as you, old boy." He said, slowing to a stop. "Where's Hook?"

"Deader 'n his mum." Mason said.

Starkey blinked at him. "How?"

"Got stabbed in the back by a Lost Boy." Mason snorted. "Mullins and Jukes and that Slightly boy laid a trap for us, and Hook walked into it anyway. The trap didn't work. He and Mullins went at it and he pounded that yank, but Slightly stuck a sword through his back when he wasn't looking."

"...What were you doing during all this?" Starkey asked.

Mason chuckled. "Watching."

"Is Mullins alive?"

"I doubt it. He got eaten by a house."

Starkey stared at him incredulously. "I say, are you quite alright? Didn't hit your head or anything?"

"The house had legs." Mason explained. "They all dragged me with to see the Old Witch, try and get Jukes fixed, or something. Her house had four legs and chased 'em. Ate 'em, too." He smirked. "They had it coming."

Starkey sighed. "This means we have no crew, you know. There's just you and me and Cookson, assuming Mullins didn't kill him while escaping the ship. Three men can't sail the ship that far. There isn't even enough of us to switch into starboard and larboard watches. We'd never be able to sleep, if we sail."

Mason apparently hadn't thought of that. "We could press some redskins into service."

"Do YOU want to try and make a redskin do ANYTHING?"

Mason had to admit he did not.

"What else is there, then?" Mason asked. "I don't want to spend the rest of my bleedin' life here on the island. For one, I doubt the redskins are going to give up any women. I don't particularly fancy living out my life without either a wife or a good lot of corner walkers."

"I'm not particularly keen on the idea myself." Starkey grumbled. "But the only other thing to do is to sail out and break up in the first storm we come to. Is it better to learn to be celibate here or to die painfully out there?"

Mason paused. "You don't give a guy an easy option, Stark."

"Tell me about it." He muttered. "Here I thought ONE year was hard. We got at least twenty ahead of us, now."

Mason squinted up at the trees and scowled at them. "...I hate this island. I really, really, HATE this island..."

At the Old Witch's house, Slightly was more than a little astounded at what the old woman had told them. "ME?" He sputtered. "What do you want with ME???"

Billy made his fists up at his side, livid. "It doesn't matter, cully. No deal. You can't have Slightly."

"I don't mean him any harm." She said, putting up her hands. "Do you have any idea how old I am really? I'm well over the biblical limit, you know. Sometimes it would be nice to have someone around to boil water in the morning and collect fire wood. Someone who can catch a rabbit without resorting to wishing it to death. Is that so much for an old woman to ask?"

"I said no deal." Billy growled through clenched teeth. "You can't have Slightly."

"Then you can't have the spell." She said simply. "Three years service from that boy is the trade. Take it or leave it."

Mullins scowled at her. "You can't ask that of the kid. I'll work for ye for three years instead of him. I'm the one that cut your house, after all."

The woman smirked and eyed him up and down; Mullins was still wet and still mostly unclothed. "As tempting as an offer of your servitude is, I don't think it would be a good trade. Oh, I believe you'd do the work, of course, things like hauling water and cutting wood, but I really don't think you'd sit still for it once magic was involved. Besides, you're an eyeful, but you're bad company." She waved the idea off. "It's Slightly or nothing."

"Then it's nothing." Billy said. "I'll find some other way to get rid of the ghoul."

"There is no other way." Slightly said softly. "You know that."

Billy stared. "She's talking about SLAVERY, cully!"

"I know." He said. "But there's nothing else to do. How long can you go without sleeping, Billy?" he asked, his tone going a little pleading. "I have to do it."

"Cully—"

"It's my decision to make." Slightly said. "And mine only."

It wasn't his only, Billy wanted to protest, but how exactly could he say that? Especially with Mullins there? Paranoia and shame swam in his stomach. He settled for "I don't want you to do it."

"It's done." Slightly said softly.

The Old Witch clapped her hands together and smiled. "That's it, then! The deal is made. You're a good boy, Slightly, a very good boy." She reached a hand out to Slightly, but Mullins growled at her.

"If you hurt that boy," he warned "I will make you regret you ever saw us."

The Old Witch smiled at him. It wasn't a mean smile. "I know."

Slightly took her hand and let her pull him towards her. Billy looked like his tendons were going to snap any minute; Mullins just looked like a dog about ready to bite. The Old Witch ignored them both.

"It's time to start." She told them sweetly. "Billy and Mullins, go outside. Slightly will help me get things ready, and we'll be with you shortly."

Neither of them moved. Slightly turned and managed a shaky smile at them. "It's okay."

It wasn't okay.

Just at that moment, when the fire lit Slightly in orange and black shadows, with his face trying to smile while his eyes looked too young, too innocent, and too damaged, Billy wanted to grab him and run. He could run from servitude and guilt and conscience, and live life out somewhere where there were no such thing as ghouls or magic, and where he could be as close as he wanted to the boy and never have to worry about conscience or sin.

Instead, his eyes forced shut against the sight and the thought and he shoved Mullins towards the door, following behind him to the outside. The Old Witch smiled at Slightly and stood up, brushing her apron off with her free hand. Her smile was sweet as molasses.

"Welcome to my home, dearie."

And somehow, that made it final.