Tenderfoot

30 ~ A Change of Plans

Tam is, by far, the loudest sleeper I've ever heard.

She's even louder than my cousin Violet, who slept with me while Uncle Randy remodeled their house. As I lay in bed, I stare out of the window. The pane is made of melted glass bottles, which reflects different colors as the sun filters through. I figure it's only one of the many surprises I'll find as I explore the commune. I can't tell what time it is, since the mountains stand in the way of the rising sun, but if I had to judge it off the heaviness of my eyelids and the buzz in my head, it's early.

The fact that I have no memory of how I got into bed bothers me a little, but I figure River carried me in. Hopefully, I didn't make a fool of myself after my brain soaked up Cath's rum tonic. The last clear memory I have is standing next to him in the gazing hall staring at the stars. A chill prickles my skin as other memories flood back: Bastian's flaming airship, the red wall, water in my lungs, Della's shrieking laugh.

Grabbing ahold of the windowsill with my good arm, I pull myself upright. There's no way I'm getting back to sleep with Tam the Tuba in the room. I swing my feet over the bed and slowly stand, finding my equilibrium as I adjust my arm in the sling. The pain is back with a vengeance and my muscles are sore as hell, but what did I expect? Even casters can't heal overnight. Maybe Cath will brew me something to cure a hangover or whatever this is. Could she brew a potion to change Della into a toad?

I pad across Tam's floor in my wrinkled commune dress. I figure nobody will be making a fuss about protocol today. The door opens without complaint, and I stand there a minute, listening for sound. There's light coming from the gazing hall and can see a patch of color illuminating the floor under the stained glass dome. I walk toward the light and stand beneath it, soaking up the morning's warmth as shafts of blue and green make a pattern on my dress. I can hear the songs of birds. Two different species, if I'm not mistaken. Until I arrived in Santa Fe, I hadn't heard a single songbird since...since I can't remember when.

I glance around for a robe, but the quiet convinces me that I'm alone. Everyone is either preoccupied with morning chores or meditation or sleeping off the party. Is Lazarus on his sub or has he gone home? I should thank him for trying to catch my killer. He behaved reasonably well considering how terribly wrong everything went. Is Bastian still at the airfield? Did he salvage anything from his airship or did he lose it all? The whole night feels totally surreal now, like it never happened.

Since I'm alone, I continue investigating my new home, heading through an arched doorway that leads to a familiar hall. I recognize the bathroom where River and I had our covert meeting, and the door Leo came out of carrying the carafes of wine. Would that be the kitchen? Will I find someone inside if I take a peek?

I startle when I hear heavy footfalls behind me, and I turn around to find Lazarus striding toward me. He's wearing a smile, which makes me smile. It's a lot better than the worried expression I saw him wearing last night, the softie.

"You suck at stealth, you know," I say.

He scales that last few feet in one stride and reaches for my good hand, lifting it to his mouth and kissing it tenderly. The rush is not as strong as when I was under the potion's enchantment, but it's enough to convince me that he's accomplished the task he set out to do, although he's a far cry from being a prince. Of course, I'm not going to admit I've grown fond of the big lug. Not yet, anyway.

"You look amazingly well for someone who just stared death in face," he says, still cradling my hand. "You gave us all a real scare, Ivy."