Page 47 of Wickedly Ever After
“Hari!” Ida pulled him into her arms.
Hari coughed out mud as green as frogs. “Told you, you’re not going anywhere without me,” he said. Then he fainted.
“Hari!”
“I’m going to get a fire started,” Tinbit said. “We need to warm him up. He’ll catch swamp fever if we don’t.” He ran off, yelling something at the skeleton driver in a language that sounded like fingerbones rattling together.
“What’s happened?” The salamander crawled out of their jar in the form of a burning lizard when Ida shook the pot. “Why have we stopped?”
“Hari was on the back of the coach and he’s chilled through.” She pulled off her robe and tucked it around Hari.
The salamander scurried over the robe, leaving little singe marks where their feet touched the pristine white wool. “I will warm him,” they said. “But he is already warm inside.”
“You mean he’s running a fever?” She felt Hari’s forehead.As the salamander said, he was burning up. “Oh, Hari. Why? Sweetheart, why?” She patted his limp hands, feeling helpless.
The coach door opened again, and in came Tinbit with a brown bowl filled with something hot and steaming. He held it with the pinkest, softest-looking oven mitts—they looked handmade. He sat down beside Hari and gently slid one of the oven mitts off and put it under Hari’s head.
“What’s in the bowl?” Ida asked. “It looks like clam chowder. Hari’s allergic to fish.”
“I know. He told me,” Tinbit said, shooting her an angry glare. “This is mock clam chowder. I make it with potatoes, vegetable broth, and kelp.” He touched Hari’s cheek tenderly. “Hari? Hari, come on. Wake up.”
Like a narcoleptic princess being revived with a kiss, Hari opened his eyes. “Where am I?”
Ida leaned over him. “In Hector’s coach, you foolish, foolish boy.”
“You should never have left without me.” He glanced wearily at her. “Go put something on. You don’t want his Wickedly Witchness seeing you in your underwear.”
“I told you not to come after me.” Tinbit shoveled up a generous spoonful of soup. “You didn’t tell me you never listen. That wasn’t in any of your letters.”
Hari halfway smiled. “I left some stuff out.”
“You left a lot of stuff out,” Tinbit growled. “Like your employer is a good witch. The Good Witch!”
“Well, you didn’t tell me about Hector, the wicked old coot.” Hari struggled to rise, but Tinbit pushed him back down into a sitting position. “How’s that for leaving stuff out?”
“Shut up and eat.”
Hari opened his mouth to argue again and got a spoonful of chowder.
“You might want to eat while it’s hot, Your Goodness,” Tinbit said. “I brought some dry sweetgrass for you,” he told the salamander.
They blinked at him with golden eyes. “My favorite. How did you know?”
“Hector thought you’d like it and had it summoned. He’s a wonderful witch.” This last, Tinbit addressed pointedly to Hari.
Hari choked on his soup. “Did I say he wasn’t?”
“You called him a wicked old coot!”
Ida walked out to get dressed, leaving the two gnomes jawing while the salamander looked on impassively, burning sweetgrass blades one at a time and glowing brighter with each leaf.
She found Hector beside the campfire on the side of the road. The skeleton had unbuckled the horses. One of them was limping rather badly. Its front leg shone with silver.
“Will it be all right?” she asked, pulling her sweater over her head.
Hector looked up from stirring the cauldron. “Yes, I’ve reinforced the bone meld. But when I get home, I’ll need to find him a new leg in the boneyard.”
“Hari’s awake. He’s eating.”
