Christopher Stasheff - Warlock Heirs 05 by Here Be Monsters

Author:Here Be Monsters
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER NINE

Quicker than the eye could see, a pseudopod shot out of the great jelly to swat the squirrel. There was one shocked squeal; then the little creature was completely enveloped in white protoplasm. The pseudopod drew back into the mound with a horrid sucking smack.

Allouette shuddered. “It is a Boneless!”

“It is quite clearly boneless.” Quicksilver frowned. “What of it?”

“Nay, a Boneless!” Cordelia repeated. ” ‘Tis the name of the creature, not merely its state.”

Quicksilver gazed at the moun^d through slitted eyes. “What is its nature?”

“Ravenous,” Cordelia told her. “It will absorb anything living that comes near it, plant, animal, or human!”

“Then let us give it a wide berth.” Quicksilver turned her horse, then hesitated. “But it will not stay where it is, will it?”

“Nay,” Allouette confirmed. “We, at least, know what it is—but what will happen if a child comes upon it?”

Cordelia thought of the squirrel and shivered. “Dare we even let it stay upon this road?”

Allouette’s eyes widened. “Look behind it!”

Looking, Cordelia and Quicksilver saw a trail shining for ten feet before it began to grow patchy with evaporation, then gradually ceased.

“It comes toward us,” Quicksilver said with disgust.

“Slowly,” Allouette qualified. “Nonetheless, it moves.”

“We cannot have such a thing skating about the countryside,” Cordelia said with decision, then glared at the Boneless. It began to quiver, then spread out at the bottom, wider and wider as it sank into a puddle that spilled over the sides of the road into the grass.

“Well done,” Quicksilver said.

“But not enough,” Allouette amended. “Might it not pull itself back together?”

“Not if we divide it and give it other forms,” Cordelia answered. “Will you join in the game?”

Allouette smiled. “Gladly.”

Pieces began to break off the grayish-white puddle, pull themselves into balls, and go rolling off toward the roots of the roadside trees. There they stretched out thin, widened here and there, took on colors—and violets peeped over barky ridges, daffodils nodded in the shade, tulips opened their cups, roses bloomed, and more exotic flowers than had any business growing among oak and ash trees splashed garish color through the wood.

Quicksilver forced herself to nonchalance while she watched, though the prickling of dread spread up her backbone and across her neck and shoulders. She was a country girl who had been raised with the superstitions of her time and people, and living in constant contact with espers hadn’t really changed that. Her mind knew that there was really nothing supernatural here, that these were only the tricks people with strong and rare talents could play—but her stomach knew nothing of the sort, and was trying to climb up into her gorge. She tried to shake off the feeling, telling herself that these “witches” were only young women like herself—very much indeed, if Geoffrey was right about her having a touch of the gift of mind-reading herself—but her apprehensions refused to be banished. Soon the huge pancake had completely disappeared, the woodlot was ablaze with color and fragrant with perfume, and Cordelia nodded with satisfaction. “Well done.

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