She did have Windwolf’s entire household at hand. Surely one of the elves was savvy enough to go to the store and buy her clothes. She considered the elves in the garden washing clothes — by hand — in large wooden tubs. Okay, she had clothes at her loft.
Was it a good thing or a bad thing that she was now fashion aware enough to know that those clothes were too scruffy?
Tinker sighed. “I really don’t want to run around Turtle Creek in a dress.”
“Domi, I would rather wait until we could gather a Hand. It would not be wise for us to go alone.”
Tinker wasn’t getting the hang of the elfin ‘we’ despite having Pony at her side every moment for nearly two months. She was thinking of just trotting over by herself and seeing how much the Ghostlands had shrunk. Well, she supposed that could wait.
She used her walk-in closet as a dressing room, stripping out of the gun belt and her nightgown. She considered her informal gowns, called day dresses. She had bullied the staff into taking off the long sleeves, but the dresses still had bodices that accented her chest, tight waists, and flowing skirts. Her choices were sable brown, forest green or jewel red, all in gleaming fairy silk that clung to her like wet paint. The red one, at least, had pockets and a shorter skirt. She had to admit that she looked fairly kicky with her new gunbelt riding low on her hip. She added her polished black riding boots and the ruby jewelry that Windwolf had given her. She practiced drawing her pistol and pointed it at the mirror. “You looking at me? Uh? You looking at me?”
“No, domi, I can not see you.” Pony said from the other side of the closet door.
She laughed, holstering the pistol. “Did Windwolf find the monster that attacked me and kill it?”
“No.”
“Okay.” She came out of the closet. “Since we can’t do anything about Turtle Creek, let’s focus on the monster.”
“Domi, I do not think we should go after the dragon alone.”
“Dragon?”
“It was an oni dragon and very difficult to kill.”
“Well, yeah, which is why I should figure out how to kill it. The oni probably have more than one. There has to be a way to take down its shields so anyone with a gun can kill it.”
Pony looked at her nervously, as if he suspected she was going to hunt down the oni dragon and poke it with sticks.
Tinker felt the need to reassure him that she didn’t have anything that radical in mind. “I want to start with Lain; she’s a xenobiologist. When you’ve got a problem outside your field of specialty, you go to an expert.”
A flat bed semi-trailer sat parked in front of Lain’s stately Victorian mansion. A yellow canvas tarp covered something lumpy. The xenobiologist stood on the trailer, leaning on her crutch, watching Tinker park the Rolls. Something about Lain’s face made Tinker suspect that somehow the trailer was her fault.
“I thought you might turn up today.” Lain said.
“Well, apparently I need a small army to go back to Turtle Creek, and Windwolf has all the sekasha today except Pony and Stormsong.”
Said sekasha had already split up into Blade and Shield. Stormsong had moved off to scout the area as a Blade. Pony trailed behind Tinker, acting as Shield.
“So, I thought I’d come talk to you about the monster that attacked me yesterday.” Tinker said. “The sekasha are saying it’s an oni dragon.”
“Ah.” Lain made a sound of understanding. “I suppose I should thank you for your present.”
“Present?” Tinker eyed the trailer apprehensively. What had she done now without realizing it?
Lain flipped up one corner of tarp to reveal limp willowy branches. “They told me that you sent it.”
The black willow! “He eats the fruit of the tree that walks.” Tinker shivered as recognition shivered down her spine. It was just too weird having another part of her dream show up with her name attached to it. “I sent it?”
“That’s what they told me,” Lain said.
Tinker could remember finding the tree, but she — she didn’t order this. Or had she? She turned to Pony. “Did I ask…?” His look of concentration made her realize that she had been so rattled that she was still speaking English; she switched Elvish. “Did I ask to have the black willow brought here?”
“You said you would love to give it to Lain.”
That apparently that had been enough of an order for Pony. Tinker really had to keep in mind that the sekasha took her word as law. While she had been smothered in attention, the elves had bound up the long limp branches and sturdy trunk-feet and hauled it to the Observatory hill. Once at Lain’s, however, they’d abandoned it — trailer and all.
Lain had warned her once about elves bearing gifts. Tinker winced, realizing that she had become one of said elves.
“I’m sorry, Lain.” She made sure she was speaking English, afraid that she might insult Pony for her own stupidity. “I didn’t know they were going to bring it here and dump it on you.”
“It’s a matter of gift horses and teeth, I suppose.” Laying her crutch down, Lain nimbly swung down off the trailer, her upper body muscles cording to make up for her weakened legs. On the ground, Lain reached up for her crutch, and then turned to rap Tinker smartly on the head with her knuckles. “Learn to think before you open that mouth of yours.”
“Ow!” Tinker winced. “I’m bruised there.”
“You are?” Lain tilted Tinker’s head to examine her scalp, combing aside her short hair with gentle fingertips. “What from? That creature that attacked you?”
“Yeah.”
Lain smelt as always of fresh earth and crushed herbs and greens. “Ah, you’ll live.” She rubbed the sore area lightly. “Give the nerve receptors something else to think about.”
Tinker mewed out a noise of protest and pain at the treatment.
Lain held her at arm’s length then and looked down over Tinker, shaking her head. “I never thought I’d see you in a dress. That’s a beautiful color for you.”
Tinker showed off her rubies and her pistol, making Lain laugh at the contrast. “Do you want the tree?”
“A fully intact specimen? Of course!” Lain let her quiet scientific glee with the black willow show. “I saw my first black willow my first Startup; they flew me in on an air force jet to look at the forest where Pittsburgh had been the night before. I didn’t want to come; I was still wrapped up in being crippled. Then I saw that wall of green, all those ironwoods as tall as sequoias. Out of the forest came a black willow, probably seeking a ley line, and the ground shook when it moved. God, it was instant nirvana — an alien world coming to me when I could no longer go to it.”
A hot heady mix of delight and embarrassment flushed through Tinker; she wanted to hear more about how thoughtful she been, yet she knew how little she actually contributed toward getting the tree moved. “I thought you might like it.”
“I love it! But not necessarily here.” Lain motioned toward her house. “I’m not totally convinced that the willow is dead. It might be just dormant after a massive system shock. I’d rather not have it reviving on my doorstep.”
The tree that walks… “Yeah, that might be a bad idea. I can get a truck and move the trailer…someplace.”