Elise Runs and Dorothy Falls

Chapter 4

Elise had never run so much in her life. After seeing everything that came within arm's reach of her die over the last few hours, she hardly knew what to think anymore. When she finally saw the little white houses of Mirborne appear below her in the river valley, she couldn't even bring herself to walk into town. Afraid, she snuck amid rocks, trees, and among the high grasses as she approached. Suddenly she trusted no one.

Arranged in three long streets, Mirborne Harbor really was the model of country civility. Its riverfront buildings—thin, white, and two or three stories high—looked like the posts of a white picket fence. She had never seen anything like it.

The first street, closest to the river, was Main Street. It had mostly businesses and places of law, such as the fishery and the sheriff's house. The next street up was Market Street, whose name explained itself. Finally, the third street, Third Street, was the highest up and had the best view of the river, and that's where the people lived. It was also the longest street.

Never having gotten lunch, or any other meal for that matter, in some time, Elise had grown terribly hungry. So, despite her apprehension, she slunk to the edge of Market Street. There, she found an unusual scene in progress.

A tall gentleman with an iron chin and dark hair, cropped and sideburned, strode at the head of a small contingent of soldiers. Despite shoes, a frock coat, and a fedora so dull they appeared almost no color at all, he obviously wanted the attention of everyone on Market Street, which he addressed with an authoritative growl:

"Everyone, everyone! Have your civil passages present. This is an investigation."

The people trying to get food and home again before supper didn't like this out-of-towner snooping around, and they certainly didn't like him asking for identification. A group of young women gossiped as the reddish, bullish man strode past them like a block of sunbaked cement.

"Civil passages. If you don't have them, go home and await my arrival. I'm coming door to door."

Nearby, Elise spotted a stand filled with freshly baked bread. As its owner shuffled grumbling out of sight (presumably toward his home and his civil passage—Elise didn't know what that meant and you needn't either), she decided to chance at stealing one of the loaves. Quietly, eagerly, she crept into the street.

"I want to have documentation on all the townsfolk by sundown so tonight we can process and assess the most likely—wait! Stop right there!"

Her hand clenching a warm boule, Elise looked up, petrified to see the inspector staring her down. Instead of stopping, though, she took the boule and ran as fast as she could the other way down Market Street.

"Stop!"

Significantly smaller, and certainly slower, it would not have been long before the inspector got a hold of her. She had been running so much that it didn't seem possible she could last. Then, fortune interceded. The inspector slipped. The townspeople, amused to say the least, all had a laugh as the large, dignified officer fell flat on his face in pursuit of a child.

"ARGH!"

Scrambling up, plum colored and with gritted teeth, the inspector took off once more, but as he made his way down Market Street and turned the corner, he found the market trailing away toward a tall, teetering excuse of a home. Atop it, her legs crossed, sat a witch of thirteen years with her bune wand across her lap.

"You up there! Witch!" shouted the man. "I am Inspector Chapelure! A girl not many years your junior ran this way; she must be seized immediately. Which way did she go?"

"A girl, sure, yeah. I saw her. She ran... that way." The young witch pointed over her shoulder.

"Why didn't you stop her?!"

"Not allowed to use magic outside me home, for any reason, except to levitate me or me wand. Or you forgot your own rules, sir?"

Chapelure grumbled darkly. He didn't trust witches and never would. No one trusted a witch, and particularly not impish churls like this one. Slowly he stepped forward.

Elise tried so hard not to breathe. She didn't know how, but although she stood flesh against the slanted planks of this rickety building, directly in the inspector's line of sight, he didn't seem to see her. It was as if she had gone invisible.

Chapelure inhaled deeply through his nose. He looked side to side. Behind them, some twenty yards back at the edge of Market Street, a small crowd had formed and now watched with anticipation this exchange between the newcomer and the young witch. Delma and her friends ogled as if at a picture show.

"Are you sure that's the way she went, witch?"

"My name is Dorothy."

"I asked you a question." The inspector took one more step toward her house, toward Elise who stood pinned and faint. "If you're lying, I could have you strung up by sundown."

"Why would I lie to save one of you humans? If you want the girl, you better hurry. She looked a bit in better shape than you."

Despite her infamy, everyone got another laugh at the officer's expense. Never so humiliated before, the inspector stepped away.

But then he turned around and, looking straight toward Elise, gave one final swipe at the air.

Missing.

"Shadow boxin', officer?"

Chapelure stormed away, shouting at the crowd to move along. "Civil passages! Your civil passages are why I came, not to arrest beggar girls and bread thieves! Now move!"

Once everyone had meandered away from the scene, and Elise had a moment to catch her breath, she heard a gentle thump beside her. Stepping in front of her, then, as if all over again, was the witch she had seen at the ruins. Thinking herself invisible, however, Elise felt a great deal more than surprise when the girl turned over her shoulder and looked her right in the eyes.

Elise passed out.