“What would be best is storing it at near freezing temperatures. The cold will keep it dormant if it’s still alive.”
Tinker eyed the fifty-three foot semi-trailer. “Well, getting it off the trailer wouldn’t be hard — I can get a crane to do that — but shoving it into something refrigerated — that’s going to be hard.”
“I have faith.” Lain limped toward her house, calling back. “I know you’ll be able to figure it out.”
Ah, the disadvantages of being well known.
Stormsong was on the porch. She flashed through an ‘all clear’ signal and indicated that she hadn’t been inside the house.
“Let us clear the house first, domi.” Pony said.
She wanted to whine “it’s just Lain’s house.” The sekasha had risked death for her, though, so she only sighed and sat down on the porch swing. “Can I have the willow cut up?”
“No.”
“I didn’t think so. That would make life too simple.” She swung back and forth, the wind blowing up her skirt in a cooling breeze. “It would be easiest if we could keep the tree on the trailer and put it all into one large refrigerator. I could build one, but not quickly. Is there a large freezer unit that we can borrow?”
“There’s Reinholds,” Lain said.
“The ice cream factory?”
“I doubt they’re using all their warehouses.”
“That’s true.” The hundred year old company was one of the many Pittsburgh businesses that survived being transplanted to another universe. Elves loved ice cream. Being stranded on Elfhome, however, limited Reinhold’s production. Things such as sugar and chocolate all needed to be shipped in from Earth.
Pony reappeared at the door, and indicated with a nod and hand sign that the house was clean of menace. The sekasha took up guard at the doors, giving Tinker the privacy she was beginning to treasure so much.
It had been two months since Tinker last been in Lain’s house, the longest time in her life between visits. It was comforting to find it unchanged — large high ceiling rooms full of leather furniture, stained wood, leaded glass and shadows.
Lain made a call to Reinholds to check on their freezer capacity. Apparently Reinholds shuffled her through various departments, as she repeated herself between long pauses. Tinker raided her fridge for breakfast. There were strawberries and fresh whipped cream, so Lain wasn’t kidding when she had said that she expected Tinker to arrive.
The call ended with Lain hanging up with a sigh. “They have one large unit that has been shut down for some time. They’re still trying to find someone that knows something about it; they’ll call me back.” She picked up the teakettle and limped to the sink to fill it. “You cut your hair again.”
“Yeah, I cut it.” It annoyed Tinker that her voice suddenly shook. When she took a razor to her hair, her oni guard mistook it as a suicide attempt; the following struggle came close to getting Pony killed. Immediately afterwards, she went back to dipping circuit plates — it was stupid that tears now burned her eyes. She concentrated on stabbing a strawberry in the whipping cream.
“I know you hate it when people pry,” Lain said quietly. “God knows, between myself, your grandfather and that crazy half-elf Tooloo as role-models, it’s no wonder you insist on keeping everyone at arm’s length.”
Tinker could guess where this was going. “I’m fine!”
Lain busied herself with teacups, the faint ring of china on china filling the silence between them. The teakettle started to rattle with a pre-whistle boil. “God, I wish children came with instruction manuals. I only want to do what’s best for you — but I don’t know what that is. I never have.”
“I’m fine,” Tinker actually managed to keep her voice level this time.
The teakettle peeped, a final warning before a full scream. Lain turned off the fire and stood there a moment, watching the steam pour out of the shimmering pot. Taking a deep cleansing breath, she sighed it out and asked, “Lemon Lift or Constant Comment?”
“The Lemon Lift.” Tinker said.
“The EIA made Turtle Creek off-limits when the fighting broke out.” Lain moved the teacups carefully to the table, and changed the subject with equal deftness. “No one has been able to get down to look at these Ghostlands. What did you find?”
Tea was only a medium to transport honey, so while Tinker coaxed it to maximum viscosity, she told Lain about what she found.
“Can you fix it?” Lain asked.
“I’m a genius — not a god. I don’t even know what it is. But by the laws of thermodynamics, it should collapse. I had Pony score the trees around the edge. Once I can back into the valley, I’ll check on the rate it’s decaying.”
Tinker sipped her tea and then changed the subject. “What I really came here to talk to you about is the monster that attacked me. It’s an oni dragon.”
“There were warnings on the television last night and the radio this morning. Yet another beastie for us to worry about.”
Tinker knew that she shouldn’t feel responsible — but she did anyhow. She had made the discontinuity that the dragon had passed through to get to Pittsburgh. “The dragon generates a shield of magic that protects it. According to the Pony and Stormsong, Windwolf’s First Hand fought one of these things nae hae.” The elf phrase, meaning “too many years to count” dropped out of Tinker’s mouth like she had been born to the concept of living forever. She found it a little disturbing. “Apparently the shield also protects it from magical weapons like spell arrows. They think Windwolf will be able to kill it — but he can’t be everywhere at once. We need a more mundane way of dealing with the beastie.”
“Do you know if it’s a natural creature or a bio-engineered one?” Lain took out her datapad and opened a new file to take notes.
“No. The oni didn’t mention anything to me about the dragon, and the sekasha don’t know. What’s the difference?”
“The result of creatures of evolving in an environment full of magic is often they can use magic to their own benefit. Take the black willow; it’s mutated from tree with all the standard limitations to a highly effective predator. By in large, though, the bio-engineered creatures tend to be more dangerous than the randomly mutated creatures.”
“Like the wargs?” Tinker knew that the wolf-like creatures had been created for war but now ranged wild in the forest surrounding Pittsburgh.
“Yes. The wargs not only have the frost breath, but they show no signs of aging or disease and their wounds heal at a speed that suggests a spell somehow encoded at cellular level. They’re massive, intelligent, and aggressive in nature.”
“So the question is ‘how much did the oni dragon get in their DNA gift baskets?’”
“Yes. But let’s start with the basics. We’ve never encountered an Elfhome dragon — we only know that they exist because the elves keep telling us that they do — and that we really don’t want to study them closely.”
Tinker laughed at that comment.
“Is this dragon mammal or reptile?” Lain asked.
“I’m not sure. It had scales, but it also had some sort weird mane. It was long, and lean, with big square jaw.” Tinker put her hands up to approximate the size of the head. “Short legs with big claws that it could pick things up with.”
Lain made a slight amused sound and got up to put the teakettle back on the stove. “Beware the Jabberwock, my son! The jaws that bite, the claws that catch!”
It took Tinker a moment to identify the quote, a poem out of Alice through the Looking Glass.
“We fell down the hole and through the looking glass.”