Several hours later, the shore was close enough that they could hear waves washing against it, and more distantly, vehicles. The day was overcast, but Alexandra could see a city on the horizon, gray and blurry, far from where Pasquale and Cygnus were trying to steer the boat. She had no idea if it was Chicago or somewhere else. She didn't think they could have rowed themselves that far, but then, she didn't think the boat could have gone unnoticed by the Muggle ships that passed them by without magic.
Charlie periodically took off from her shoulder and flew around in wide circles. Alexandra tried to focus on what the raven saw, but it was mostly just water — which she supposed was good. Charlie was trying to spot danger, and none had presented itself so far.
Unless she counted her companions. Pasquale and Cygnus were increasingly tired and their tempers frayed by having to do all the work. Alexandra thought about trying to conjure winds again, but decided she was as likely to anger them more as to accomplish anything useful. Her first aid charms had stopped the bleeding from her wounds, but as if to punish her for using it in such a manner, the yew wand made each one sting before closing it.
Elisabet just watched her, her lips turned upward.
"So, your father really isn't going to help us?" Cygnus asked.
"And there will be no coven of Dark Convention warlocks coming to our assistance either," Pasquale said.
"Sorry," Alexandra said.
"I don't think you're sorry at all," Cygnus said. "You spun tall tales about your influence —"
"And you believed her, because you wanted to believe her," Elisabet said. "As if any of us wouldn't lie, cheat, or murder to get off that island. And here we are, so quit whining."
"Says the one who's not rowing," Cygnus grumbled.
Pasquale sighed and wiped his brow. "Elisabet has a point. We are free, and Miss Quick did her part, even if it wasn't exactly as she told us." He grunted as he pulled at the long oar. "How do goblins manage these things when they're difficult for men twice their size?"
"That wand is fascinating," Elisabet said. "You don't see that sort of crafting nowadays, and I don't recognize — might I take a look at it?"
"Sure," Alexandra said. "Look all you like." She laid it across her lap, with the tip pointed at the other witch.
One corner of Elisabet's mouth twitched, as if to say "You can't blame me for trying."
The land they were approaching became visible. It was a long stretch of beach at the bottom of a wending cliff-lined shore. At the top of the cliffs were pines, with no sign of human habitation. Alexandra didn't think they could be too far from the nearest town or highway, but at least they hadn't drifted into a harbor or some lakeside resort. She was not sure what her three fellow escapees would do if dumped into the midst of a Muggle community, but she was definitely glad they didn't have wands.
She had been thinking about what to do next during the hours they'd been on the water. She didn't like or trust Cygnus Nero, Pasquale Mercurio, or especially Elisabet Todd, but she couldn't betray them to the Wizard Justice Department. She had decided that the best thing to do was end her association with them as soon as possible — preferably before they anticipated her.
So when the gravelly beach was close enough to make out individual waves washing against it, and Alexandra judged the water not too rough, she stood up.
"Well," she said, "it's been great. Actually, it's really sucked, and I hope I never see any of you again. But for what it's worth, good luck."
"What are you doing?" Cygnus asked.
"Stop her!" Elisabet said, and lurched toward Alexandra. Pasquale hesitated, and in that moment, Alexandra cast a Water-Walking Charm and stepped over the side of the boat.
Her feet splashed into the waves. She found that it was like trudging through snow. Very wet snow.
Still uncooperative, she thought sourly, feeling the magic in her wand curling and twisting beneath her will. The Water-Walking Charm might be less effective on rough waves than a pond, but she shouldn't have been getting her legs wet up to her knees.
"Where are you going?" Cygnus demanded as she splashed away from the boat.
"You couldn't wait to abandon us," Elisabet said.
"I'm sure you'll be fine," Alexandra said over her shoulder. "But like you said, I did my part, and there's nothing more I can do for you. My advice is to avoid Muggles, and don't do anything stupid."
If they did do something stupid — especially if it involved Muggles — Alexandra was afraid she'd bear some responsibility for that. But short of putting a Body-Bind spell on them all and leaving them for the Aurors, she didn't know what else she could do about them. Maybe they would go straight, or at least stay hidden and out of trouble. Somehow she doubted it.
She left the three of them still yelling threats, pleas, and insults, and waded through water much too deep to wade in until she reached the beach.
While there were no structures visible and it looked mostly wild, soda cans littered the shore, and a faint trail led through the shrubs growing where the pebbles gave way to hard-packed dirt. So this was definitely not some remote wilderness.
Alexandra turned to look out at the goblin dinghy, still bobbing a hundred yards offshore. She wasn't sure if Pasquale and Cygnus were having trouble maneuvering it closer, or if they were debating what to do next. But she didn't wait to see what happened. She ascended the beach, found the trail — really just a narrow strip of dirt beaten between tall, scratchy grass and scraggly bushes — and began walking. She was enormously tired and her shoes were the cheap slippers she'd been given on Eerie Island. Her feet would be sore if she had to hike far. But she was free. She meant to stay that way.
Two days later, after a few uses of her wand that she was not proud of, she arrived in Larkin Mills with new clothes and a little bit of money.
She came on a late-night bus from Chicago. She didn't sleep at all on the long trip. When she wasn't shushing Charlie, who stayed nestled underneath her stolen coat where her fellow passengers (hopefully) couldn't see, she was looking out the window, watching for Aurors or Diana Grimm to come hurtling after the bus, perhaps stopping it right on the highway.
I shouldn't be doing this, she thought. The Wizard Justice Department had to be watching the town. Her aunt was probably watching her house personally. Alexandra had no doubt that if she showed her face anywhere near Sweetmaple Avenue, she would be apprehended immediately. Going to the Pruett School was also out of the question. And, she thought, if Diana Grimm was at all smart — and she was — she would expect Alexandra to arrive by public transportation and monitor Larkin Mills' small bus terminal.
Which was why Alexandra got off at the town before Larkin Mills, and then walked to the nearest on-ramp to the Interstate and held out her thumb.
She sent Charlie ahead. However vigilant the WJD might be, they couldn't watch every raven in town, could they?
She was no longer a green hitchhiker, but Archie might have been gratified to know how much she'd actually taken in his warnings, even if she pretended otherwise. When a middle-aged man in a shiny Honda pulled over to let her in, Alexandra kept her hand inside her shoulder bag, which she had acquired at the same store where she'd bought her clothes, with money she had procured by means that were illegal in both the Muggle and wizarding worlds.
If the man thought it strange that she kept her hand in her bag all the time, he didn't comment on it. He also didn't hit on her or attempt anything inappropriate, though he did ask a lot of questions about her age and why she was hitchhiking at midnight out in the middle of nowhere.
Alexandra had a story prepared for this: a more polished version of one she'd used before, involving a boyfriend, a breakup, and being left abandoned miles from home. It got better with retelling, and her ride accepted it and nodded with sympathy. She fended off suggestions that he call her parents, but he insisted that he had to take her directly to her house.
She led him to a neighborhood on the other side of town from Sweetmaple Avenue, where the houses were more expensive. The people who lived in them were hospital administrators and bank presidents, rather than cops and nurses. She cheerfully pointed out "her" house, one that had cars in the driveway but darkened windows, indicating that everyone was asleep and surely he wouldn't want to wake them up? Yes, she had a key.
She thanked him sincerely as she got out and waved to him as he drove away. Then she walked to the corner, turned left, and headed toward the Interstate again. Her destination was Old Larkin Pond, approaching it from the opposite direction she usually did.
Charlie descended silently to land on her shoulder, then took off again when she reached the Interstate, which she had to cross on foot rather than taking the tunnel that she and Brian had used so often. Even late at night in the middle of nowhere, there was traffic, but she got across the highway without appearing in anyone's headlights.
She could avoid her house and the school and everywhere else where she might be expected, but she couldn't avoid Old Larkin Pond if she was to get what she came here for. She opened her eyes to the world through her Witch's Sight. If there were wards or barriers around the pond, they were too subtle for her to see them. Diana Grimm's spells would probably be that subtle. If her aunt anticipated her coming here, she was screwed. But she could only get so far with a contested wand and petty theft. So she continued through the brown grass, glad that the temperature was cold but not yet freezing. Having been out on the Great Lakes, winter in Larkin Mills seemed much less harsh.
The pond was the dirty little puddle it had always been. Alexandra held her breath, released it, and extended the yew wand over the water.
"Finite Incantatem," she said.
Out in the deepest part of the pond, the water rippled, and then her backpack bobbed to the surface, no longer held down by the Deadweight Charm she had cast weeks ago.
"Accio backpack," she said.
Water splashed as the pack came flying across the surface of the pond, almost skipping as it reached the water's edge, and then bounced over the mud and shot past her into the grass.
"Thanks," she said sarcastically to the yew wand, and put it away. She dragged her backpack out of the grass.
She knelt and tore the pack open, and retrieved her black hickory wand. Compared to the yew wand, the hickory wand felt like an old friend in her hand, even though she'd had it for only a couple of months.
Then she pulled out the one thing she wanted more than anything else next to her wand: her Seven-League Boots. Hastily she kicked off her shoes and put on the boots, then slung the pack over her shoulders, ignoring the mud and water.
"Let's go, Charlie!" she said, and took a step away from the pond. It carried her halfway across the field, and the next took her almost to the highway. She stopped then, and looked behind her. Once again, no wizards Apparated out of thin air, no one descended on a broom, no creatures emerged from the pond, and no Howlers or magical alarms or other traps triggered. As far as she could tell, her visit to Old Larkin Pond had gone completely unnoticed.
"Fly, fly!" Charlie said, passing overhead.
Alexandra spared a glance in the other direction, where the lights of Larkin Mills glowed in the darkness on the other side of the Interstate. Claudia was there, and Archie, probably worrying about her. Would they have been told about her escape from Eerie Island? Interrogated by WJD agents?
Were Freddy and Pete and Helen and the two Rachels and all the other kids still coming to class at the Pruett School?
Brian…
She blinked. Tears stung her eyes. She didn't dare venture further into town. She'd taken a large enough risk. Claudia must never know that she'd been here. She'd try to get a message to her friends and family once she was safely out of reach.
She didn't know if any place was truly out of reach, so she headed toward the only refuge she could think of, a place where she might hide and not be given up to the Confederation, and not endanger the people around her. She hoped.
She ran, flying alongside the highway faster than the cars she blurred past, until she reached the hidden exit onto the Automagicka. She ran past the trollbooth, having no idea whether the troll registered her passing. She did not toss a coin into its basket.
Miles down the Automagicka, she slowed down and waited for Charlie to catch up. She sat on the slope below a shoulder of the magical highway, where traffic was even lighter than on the Muggle Interstate at this time of night, and took out everything in her magical backpack, carefully inventorying it and verifying that it did not seem to have been tampered with while it lay hidden at the bottom of Old Larkin Pond.
Now she had her wand, her boots, her broom, and her magic backpack, with its books and potions and charms. And she had clean clothes, and her familiar. Charlie reached her half an hour later — she hadn't realized how far she had outpaced the raven — and landed on her knee.
"Alexandra," the bird said reproachfully.
"You're gonna have to get in my pack, Charlie," she said. "Because once I leave Larkin Mills, I'm not slowing down until I reach the Ozarks."
Even flying part of the way on her broom, it took Alexandra many hours to reach the Ozarks. Her unfamiliarity with the territory didn't help. The Ozarkers didn't put signs out, and Alexandra had only been here once.
Furthest was appropriately named. Alexandra was deep in the Ozarks when she finally reached the A&W stand and its lonely gravel road. She'd left Larkin Mills after midnight, and it was nearly dawn. Exhausted, she stumbled across the lot and into the trees, wandered deep enough into the woods that she could see no sign of human trespass, and proceeded to set up the tent that she'd carried in her backpack ever since inheriting it from Maximilian.
She cast Muggle-Repelling Charms around the tent, then crawled into it. Charlie was tired too. Not being nocturnal, the raven sat in the cage at her side until she sank into sleep, and then Charlie too nodded off.
They were both awakened by a cracking sound. Alexandra lay with her eyes shut, but listening. Then Charlie cawed, ruining any hope she had of staying quiet and unnoticed. She sighed and opened her eyes partway, glaring at Charlie in the dim light seeping into the tent. "Good going, birdbrain," she whispered.
"Well, you can lay about all day if that's yore intent," said a sharp voice from just outside the tent, "but I reckon you'd best haul yer lazy bones outter there if'n you don't want to be found by some woodsman or a hide-behind."
Alexandra dragged herself out of her sleeping roll, pushed open the tent, and squinted at the old woman standing over her with arms crossed and a wand held in one blue-veined fist.
"Good morning, Granny Pritchard," Alexandra said.
"Don't you good morning me, Missy!" Granny Pritchard said. "What in tarnation are you doin' here?"
Alexandra rose to her feet, resisted the impulse to stretch and yawn, and glared at Charlie, who had somehow remained on her shoulder during her entire exit from the tent and now squawked cheerfully at the old woman.
She decided there was no point in delaying or dissembling. "I'm a fugitive."
Granny Pritchard arched an eyebrow. "Do tell."
"I don't know if you heard anything from Constance and Forbearance…" Alexandra paused, but Granny Pritchard's face betrayed nothing, so she continued. "I was arrested by the Wizard Justice Department and sent to Eerie Island."
"Arrested for what?" Granny Pritchard asked.
Alexandra studied her feet a moment. They were bare — she hadn't put on her boots before crawling out of the tent. Then she raised her head and met Granny Pritchard's level stare.
"I assaulted a bureaucrat from the Department of Magical Education," she said. "Except I don't think he actually works for them. He works for —"
"Why'd you assault this feller?" Granny Pritchard demanded. "I reckon you must've done somethin' purty awful for them to send you to Eerie Island."
"I didn't kill him," Alexandra said defensively. "Or maim him. But he was tormenting another girl, and I — kind of lost it. I hexed him six ways from Sunday, as y'all might say."
"Don't mimic Ozarker speech," Granny Pritchard said. "It don't sit well on yore tongue."
Alexandra nodded. "So anyway, I kind of messed him up, and they used that as an excuse to send me to Eerie Island without a trial, after declaring me an adult. I escaped, but I couldn't go home, so here I am, because it's the only place I could think to run to."
"That's a heap o' misadventure in a few words," Granny Pritchard said. "You escaped Eerie Island?"
"Yes."
Granny Pritchard stared hard at her, then shook her head. "And you conceived we'uns'd be pleased to offer a hidey-hole?"
"No, I didn't exactly think you'd be pleased." Alexandra was beginning to shiver. In her magically-warmed tent, she hadn't noticed how cold it was outside, but without spells protecting her, her toes were getting numb. The Ozarks were now as chilly and damp as they had been hot and humid in the summer. "If you don't want me here, I'll leave. But I thought you wouldn't turn me over to the Confederation, especially since you seem to think I'm supposed to do something for you. And anyway —" Alexandra faltered, and her words caught in her throat. "I didn't know where else to go."
Granny Pritchard studied her long enough for Alexandra's chills to become visible, then she said, "Get dressed proper, girl. That fancy tent roll up?"
"Yeah, it's magical. I mean, yes ma'am," Alexandra said, flinching away from Granny Pritchard's glare as Charlie squawked on her shoulder.
"Gather yore things, then," Granny Pritchard said. "We'uns is gonna have a pow-wow."
Alexandra hastily packed up the tent with a charmed word and put it back in her backpack. She followed after Granny Pritchard, who maintained a surprisingly brisk pace for such an old woman. Alexandra wore her weatherproof JROC boots instead of the Seven-League Boots, and a jacket, hat, and gloves in the December chill. Charlie flew ahead, chattering from the branches of the trees and ignoring Granny Pritchard's admonitions to shush.
"You wasn't near far enough from Muggle byways," Granny Pritchard said, without pausing or looking back. "Some damfool Muggle mighter shot you for a deer."
"Hunters come out when it's this cold?" Alexandra asked. Just then, as if to answer her question, the crack of a gunshot echoed through the woods. Charlie cawed and flew to a higher spot in the trees.
"Folks 'round here is poor, Missy — Muggle 'n magical alike. They'uns hain't huntin' to put a trophy on a wall, they'uns is huntin' to put food on the table."
"What keeps them from encountering magical creatures?" Alexandra asked.
"Some of 'em do. But we'uns has put charms 'round our Hollers, to ward off them who don't know better. There's more o' them every year. Used to be, we'uns was surrounded by Muggle kith who knew to stay away. Now there's blessed few of 'em who 'member the old ways. Half them folks livin' in town hain't Ozarkers atall."
"Is that why you want to leave this world behind?" Alexandra asked. "To get away from Muggles?"
Granny Pritchard stopped and turned to face her. "You don't understand us atall."
"I try," Alexandra said. "But it doesn't help when you're either cryptic, or you give me dirty looks for asking questions."
Granny Pritchard cackled. "Alright, that's fair." She resumed hiking up the wooded slope. Alexandra had no trouble keeping up, but she was growing tired after all her traveling.
"We'uns hain't never despised Muggles the way some Colonials do," Granny Pritchard said. "But we'uns don't mingle with 'em neither."
"You don't hate them, you just want to stay segregated," Alexandra said. "That doesn't sound so different from the Old Colonials."
Granny Pritchard's voice sharpened. "We'uns don't mingle with 'em because it keeps magic in this world. Muggles can't abide in a world o' magic, an we'uns can't abide in a world without it. Our intention is to leave this world to the unwizardly, takin' all our magic with us."
"Benjamin and Mordecai Rash, they sure don't like Muggles. They've called me Mudblood. And I heard some other Ozarkers say things about Muggles during the Jubilee."
Granny Pritchard sighed. "Benjamin and Mordecai Rash hain't the least bit couth. They'uns grow thistle-like in that family. It weren't allus that way 'mongst us, but it's more common nowadays, in the long years that's passed since we'uns went west an' found ourselves surrounded by ignorant Muggle folk on one side and Colonials on t'other."
"And those two are supposed to marry your great-granddaughters," Alexandra said.
"I did not recommend that match," Granny Pritchard said, "brace o' twins notwithstandin'. But it hain't up to me, and in the end, it's up to Constance an' Forbearance, an' Benjamin an' Mordecai, an' I reckon they'uns will make the decision that suits them."
"Really? It seems to me Constance and Forbearance don't want to marry them at all, they just think you all expect them to."
"An' it seems to me you conceive you know what's best for yore friends an' don't trust 'em to know their own minds."
"I do! I mean, I don't. I mean —" Alexandra blew out a frosty breath. "I still don't understand your plan to leave for a world away from this one. Even if all you Ozarkers leave, the rest of the wizarding world will stay here. This world is never going to be without magic."
"That's as may be," Granny Pritchard said. "But we'uns can only mind our own patch."
Alexandra spread her arms. "How do you figure it's bad for there to be magic here? I mean, there are bad wizards, and bad spells, but magic by itself isn't good or bad."
"I din't say magic is bad," Granny Pritchard said. "I said Muggles can't abide in a world with it. Magic does 'em no good, and they'uns'll never accept it. It's a thing they can't have and can't control. They'uns can only see it as miraculous or terrible. Them who marvel at it would pester us for miracles, an' turn bitter if'n we'uns don't oblige. Them who see it as terrible… well, Muggles who think all witches 'n wizards is wicked, I reckon you know how that goes."
Alexandra shook her head. "So you just want to run away so you can live all by yourselves, without having to deal with anyone else, Muggle or wizard."
"An' if'n that is our preference, what's so terrible 'bout it?"
Alexandra said nothing. She supposed the Ozarkers had a right to isolate themselves — even withdraw from the outside world, or go somewhere else, if they wanted to. But it seemed like running away to her, and the thought that her friends would leave with their kin hurt. The Ozarkers expected her to open the way to that other world, and she wasn't sure she wanted to, even if she could.
They ascended a slope that was slippery with wet leaves, so that Alexandra had to check her balance more than once, yet Granny Pritchard never seemed the least bit unsteady on her feet. In her own boots, with their surprisingly high heels, she tromped on, and Alexandra followed until they crested the little rise and arrived on a level sward of grass occupied by a small wooden cabin and a goat.
Alexandra continued following after Granny Pritchard. They walked past the goat, who watched them with an insolent expression as it chewed grass. Charlie, after circling the little clearing, landed on Alexandra's shoulder and said, "Wicked!" Alexandra paused as Granny Pritchard reached the door.
"Hain't nothin' wicked in here, 'ceptin' maybe you an' that bird after you cross the threshold," Granny Pritchard said.
Alexandra rolled her eyes, and followed Granny Pritchard inside.
The rest of the Grannies were waiting there. Granny Ford, the oldest of them, sat in a large stuffed chair, almost swallowed by it, with her hands curled around the armrests and her wand lying across her lap. Granny Morrison and three other Grannies played Witches' Whist around a wooden table, while half a dozen more sat in rocking chairs, all knitting or embroidering.
It was very crowded, because the cabin was not larger on the inside than it was on the outside. The Grannies hadn't wizard-spaced it. It was warm, and Alexandra's nose began to run after the cold air outside.
"Well, well, lookee who come back like a bad Pidge," said Granny Morrison.
Alexandra bit back the sharp retort that came to mind. She was in need of their help, after all.
"Miss Quick is on the gallows path," said Granny Pritchard. "An' so she come here, conceivin' we'uns would aid an' abet her."
"Gallows path?" Alexandra asked.
"An Old World sayin'," said Granny Pritchard. "Means you is runnin' from the Sheriff or the Ministry or the Confederation — whoever the law might be."
"How do you find yourself in such a predicament?" asked ancient Granny Ford, without opening her eyes.
"I'm Troublesome," Alexandra said.
All the Grannies looked at her then. A couple of them chuckled.
"Just so," said Granny Ford.
"Also, I was kind of set up," Alexandra added.
Granny Ford let out a sigh and moved in what Alexandra presumed to be a kind of shrug. "Do you feature livin' 'mongst us?" she asked. And to Granny Pritchard, "Might yore kin take her in, Dorcas?"
"I don't want to live with the Pritchards," Alexandra said quickly. When Granny Pritchard raised her eyebrows, she added, "I mean, that isn't what I had in mind. It wouldn't be fair to them."
"So what did you have in mind, child?" Granny Ford asked.
Alexandra sniffled loudly, and wiped the back of her hand across her nose. She hoped the Grannies didn't think she was crying — it was just so warm in here after the cold outside! She took the moment to compose herself. During her flight from Eerie Island to Larkin Mills and then the Ozarks, she'd spent little time thinking ahead, always worried that the WJD's Aurors or Special Inquisitors would be on her heels.
"I just need sanctuary," she said. "Somewhere where I don't have to run."
There was a long silence. Alexandra was conscious of her nose still dripping, and cast a non-verbal Drying Charm, which helped. The soft clack of knitting needles, and Charlie ruffling feathers, were the only sounds.
"S'ppose we'uns did give you sanctuary," Granny Ford said. "You feature spendin' the rest o' yore days here?"
Alexandra shook her head. "No, ma'am." Her next words were almost unexpected even to herself. "I have to go to New York."
"New York?" Granny Ford expressed her puzzlement by adding a few creases to her face. The other Grannies also gave her befuddled looks.
"New Amsterdam," Alexandra said. "I have to go to New Amsterdam… and Storm King Mountain."
This brought another long silence.
"What purpose have you there?" asked Granny Pritchard at last.
Alexandra shook her head. "I don't know exactly." She couldn't lie to the Grannies, but she wasn't willing to tell them everything. "But there's something there I have to find out."
"So yore fixin' to head right back into trouble," Granny Pritchard said. "I reckon my great-granddaughters would be pleased to see you here for Christmas. You reckon you might stay that long?"
Alexandra nodded. Her vision blurred and her throat felt rough, not just because of the temperature in the room. "Yes, ma'am. I wouldn't mind staying that long."
Alexandra didn't know exactly what arrangements the Grannies made, or who they talked to, or whether they were the only ones in the Ozarks who knew she was here, but in the end, they told her they reckoned she could stay a while.
When most of them left that night, Alexandra learned that the little cabin actually belonged to one of them, Granny Mahnkey, a tiny bespectacled woman with straight silver hair tied back in a tight bun. Alexandra had not heard her say a word during any of her previous encounters with the Grannies, but after all the other witches left, Granny Mahnkey said to her in a bright voice, "You'll do yore share of chores — cookin' an' cleanin' an' sweepin' an' mendin'! I keep my home spotless an' I will not abide mess or mischief."
"Yes, ma'am," Alexandra said.
"You'll also dress proper," Granny Mahnkey said, her round face scrunching up in disdain at Alexandra's jeans, boots, and Muggle apparel.
Alexandra sighed and shook her head. "No dresses. No bonnets. I'm not an Ozarker —"
"You come here figurin' to lay low with us and accept our hospitality, you can blessed well dress like us and mind our ways," Granny Mahnkey said firmly.
Whether she conjured them or had clothes stored away in a chest somewhere, perhaps for daughters or granddaughters long gone, Granny Mahnkey produced a pair of calico dresses and bonnets and insisted that Alexandra try them on. They were the right length, though they hung loosely on Alexandra's bony frame, and the bonnets were too large for her head. Nonetheless, Granny Mahnkey told her that as long as she stayed under her roof, she would dress like an Ozarker gal.
In the days that followed, Granny Mahnkey did put her to work. It was all manual labor, tedious and mundane and exacting according to the Granny's requirements. Alexandra cleaned out every last corner of the cabin until she could swear not a mote of dust was left in it. She hauled a little wheelbarrow full of stones up from the creek, and then laid them along the path to the cottage door, but only after Granny Mahnkey had personally inspected each stone, tossing some aside as displeasing to her eye. Alexandra climbed up on the roof to mend it, and cleared weeds and shrubs away from the cabin. At night, Granny Mahnkey insisted on teaching her how to knit, sew, and cook.
Alexandra accepted all of this stoically. She wasn't sure if Granny Mahnkey normally did all this work herself, with or without magic, or if the old woman was determined to turn her into a proper Ozarker, but Alexandra had nowhere else to go, so she performed her tasks and complied with the Granny's demands. She didn't see anyone else for three days, and had no one but Granny Mahnkey and Charlie to talk to.
When Granny Pritchard returned on the third day, Alexandra was glad to see her as much because she was going stir crazy as because she wanted news. Granny Pritchard found her outside, trying to fix the pulley to Granny Mahnkey's well.
"Well, child, the Confederation wants you back a'certain," Granny Pritchard said.
"Do they know I'm here?" Alexandra asked.
"Aye. I 'spect they'd a known it even if we'uns hadn't told 'em," Granny Pritchard said.
"You told them?" Alexandra exclaimed. Her eyes darted to the trees behind Granny Pritchard, and the corner of Granny Mahnkey's cabin, as if Special Inquisitor Grimm might step into view at any moment.
"Now settle yoreself," Granny Pritchard said. "We'uns hain't about to hand you over to the Aurors no matter how they'uns squawk. This hain't their Territory, an' they'uns got no authority to meddle in our Hollers. Not without a by-your-leave from us."
"Really?" The idea that the Ozarkers could simply defy the Confederation surprised her. But Granny Pritchard went on.
"That don't mean all is peaches 'n cream," she said. "They'uns are demandin' a convocation, an' we'uns hain't got no choice but to call one. That's as we'uns agreed back in the days when the Confederation agreed to leave us be."
"A convocation? About me?" Without even thinking about it, her wand had found its way into her hand.
"You feature they'uns is gonna send someone to snatch you right here an' now?" Granny Pritchard asked dryly.
"I wouldn't put it past them," Alexandra said. "Maybe Aurors need permission to enter the Hollers, but according to the WODAMND Act, Special Inquisitors can go anywhere."
Granny Pritchard shook her head. "Put yore wand away. They'uns reckon you can't run without them knowin' it, and they'uns won't break our covenant without a reason a blessed sight more powerful than one troublesome girl-child."
"I'm not actually as egotistical as you think I am," Alexandra said. "This isn't really about me. It's about my father. They only care about me because of him."
"Aye, I can't help noticin' that he don't seem fixed on doin' much on yore account," Granny Pritchard said.
"I kind of told him to stay out of my life," Alexandra said. "I guess he listened."
Granny Pritchard studied her a moment, then said, "That's as may be. But our old men is meetin' with the warlocks from the WJD tonight."
"What if they agree to hand me over?" Alexandra asked.
"I don't feature that happenin'," Granny Pritchard said.
"I'm glad you're so confident. It didn't seem to me that your old men liked me too much."
"You stop yore frettin', Missy. They'uns hain't gonna turn you out without our say-so."
"I'm not fretting," Alexandra said. "I'm deciding whether I should just get out of here. Even if you don't intend to give me up, the Confederation plays dirty. You're harboring a fugitive, and I don't want them putting pressure on your family, or —"
"Don't you reckon you oughter thought of that 'fore now?" Granny Pritchard asked.
Alexandra huffed in frustration. "I haven't had much time to think."
"I figured you'd've had plenty o' time to think right here, stitchin' an' mendin' and cookin' with Granny Mahnkey. Hain't you been puttin' this gal to work, Beulah?"
"I surely have," Granny Mahnkey said, emerging from her cabin wiping her hands on a dish cloth. "Hain't had near 'nough time to put proper calluses on them soft foreign fingers."
Alexandra looked at her hands. Charlie, sitting in the eaves of the cabin, made a rude cackling sound.
"Where you fixin' to run, child?" Granny Pritchard asked, a little more gently.
"I don't know. I have some ideas." Alexandra did have some ideas, but none of them were particularly good ones. Fleeing to Croatoa would only expose the Kings to the same danger she was trying to save the Pritchards from. The thought of hiding out in Dinétah had occurred to her. With the help of magic, she might be able to survive in the unforgiving desert, and maybe Henry Tsotsie wouldn't hunt her down and turn her in…
"You hain't goin' nowhere," said Granny Mahnkey. "Now finish mendin' that rope if'n you want drinkin' water tonight!"
"I get why you don't create a magic well, I guess," Alexandra said. "That takes a lot of magic and you'd have to unwork it every Jubilee. But I don't see why you can't just levitate the bucket with your wand."
"Just keep workin'," Granny Mahnkey said, "whilst Dorcas an' I confer."
The two Grannies went inside. Alexandra glared at Charlie. "It's not like you're doing any work."
Charlie cackled.
Granny Pritchard departed soon afterwards, with another admonition to cease frettin'. Alexandra sat outside Granny Mahnkey's cabin for the rest of the evening, practicing charms and hexes cast from the front porch at the lightning bugs and other insects until Granny Mahnkey told her to come inside and have some supper.
The next day, Granny Pritchard returned.
"Them Confederation fellers was madder'n a granny goat hitched to a porkypine," she said.
"You're going to let me stay?" Alexandra asked.
"'Course we is. We'uns don't never turn out guests."
"But don't you still have to obey Confederation laws? They'll get a warrant or something. They'll extradite me."
"Can't," Granny Pritchard said. "You is only wanted in Central Territory. We'uns hain't obliged to Central Territory."
"But the Confederation —"
"The Confederation, the Confederation, the Confederation!" Granny Pritchard repeated in a mocking tone. "Child, do you know what a Confederation is?"
"Of course I know. We had to learn about it in school."
"So you know every Territory is responsible for its ownself. They'uns can make agreements an' treaties 'mongst themselves, but laws in one hain't bindin' in t'other."
"My father is wanted all over the Confederation."
"That's 'cause the Guv'nor-General declared him an Enemy of the Confederation," Granny Pritchard said. "An' even that just gives authority to his Special Inquisitors. The Guv'nor-General can't give orders to a Territory's Aurors; he needs the Territorial Guv'nor to do that. 'Course most of 'em'll sit up 'n bark when he says boo."
"But Ozarkers don't have Aurors or a Territorial Governor."
"Zactly!" Granny Pritchard nodded. "Hence, nothin' the Guv'nor of Central Territory or even the Guv'nor-General himself — not that he'd actually show himself directly in this affair — can do 'cept bark an' bluster."
"Or bribe an' threaten," Granny Mahnkey said. Alexandra had almost forgotten her, as she sat quietly knitting in her rocking chair.
"Or that," Granny Pritchard said. "Our men hain't immune to such cajolery, but they'uns is also proud an' not about to have no lickspittle Colonial tellin' 'em what to do. So they'uns told those wizards from Central Territory to go back home an' they'uns would decide 'mongst themselves what to do 'bout one troublesome gal who's caused such consternation."
"What about the Special Inquisitors?" Alexandra asked.
"Well…" Granny Pritchard's expression became more serious. "We'uns can't ban 'em. But they'uns'll be cautious 'bout trespassin' in our Hollers without a proper invite. Confederation law may say they'uns is authorized to go wheresoever they please, but Ozarker custom is different."
Alexandra thought about her aunt Diana. "I don't think they're going to be scared of you."
"Now why would they'uns be scared of us?" Granny Pritchard said, as if the thought had never occurred to her. "But it would be just unmannerly for them to act like trespassin' blaggards, 'specially to snatch one little girl."
When nothing happened the next day, or the day after that, Alexandra began to think that maybe Granny Pritchard was right. Any temptation towards complacency was disrupted by the arrival of a large horned owl that night.
"Jingwei!" Alexandra exclaimed, as Charlie disappeared into the rafters of Granny Mahnkey's cabin. The enormous owl, seated on the sill over the little bed Alexandra had been sleeping in, hooted solemnly at her.
"If you can find me, I don't see how the Office of Special Inquisitions can't," Alexandra said. She untied the long scroll that was wrapped to the leg of Anna's familiar. "I'm sorry, I don't think Granny Mahnkey keeps any owl treats."
Jingwei's golden eyes blinked, then the owl swiveled her head to stare into the shadows where Charlie hid.
"Stop that." Alexandra poked the big bird with one finger. She knew Jingwei was capable of removing a finger with one snap of her beak, but the owl hooted indignantly and backed away.
"The woods around here are full of mice and other things," Alexandra said. "Why don't you hunt yourself a snack? I assume you're going to take my reply back to Anna?"
Jingwei hooted and took off with a majestic flurry of wings, leaving behind a single small owl feather. Alexandra unwrapped the scroll and began reading.
Her friends had heard of her escape from Eerie Island. Apparently it was the talk of Charmbridge Academy, and Alexandra was either an outlaw hero or a mad Dark sorceress. Anna didn't say which way the majority of her fellow classmates leaned.
"I've asked my father if he can do anything for you," Anna wrote, "but you know he doesn't have much influence outside of North California."
Anna didn't mention that this was pretty much exactly what Congressman Chu had been afraid of. Anna's father had warned Alexandra not to get his daughter in trouble — now Anna's best friend was a fugitive. She suspected Mr. Chu wouldn't even approve of Anna writing to her.
According to Anna, David was researching wizard laws. He claimed sending a juvenile to wizard prison without a trial was illegal. Alexandra imagined David poring through legal texts, possibly with help from Bran and Poe. The idea of him entering wizard court wearing black robes and an attitude was amusing, and it was heartwarming to think of him actually trying to help her, but she could only shake her head at his naiveté. David, for all his rebellious talk and animosity toward the system, still believed the Confederation was basically law-abiding. Maybe he believed the whole world could be made to follow the rules.
David, you don't get it. They do whatever they want. Anything you can get away with is legal.