Ilere Finds a Baby

     “What in the—” Sophie started, before cutting herself off. “Bruno!” she called, rushing over to her brother, who stood a pace away from the basket with Gilly-the-Mortog perched on his shoulder.

     “Sophie,” said Bruno, looking slightly singed and quite harried. “The baby can sneeze fireballs.”

     “Sweet Kreludor,” said Sophie. “I’m so sorry. I had no idea—curse it all, I should have thought—”

     Gilly croaked sympathetically.

     “No one was hurt,” said Bruno. “The building, on the other hand…” He sighed, running a massive paw over his hair. “I think I’m getting evicted.”

     “Bruno, I’m sorry,” said Sophie.

     “Not your fault,” said Bruno.

     “It is, though!” said Sophie. “I’m the one who brought the baby to you.”

     Bruno glanced at Ilere. “And she brought the baby to you. So I’d say it’s more her fault.”

     “...okay, yeah, that’s fair,” said Sophie. “It’s mostly her fault.”

     Ilere raised an eyebrow at this, but she didn’t really care enough to argue.

     “But I’m still the one who dragged you into this,” Sophie continued.

     Gilly ribbited.

     “At least I can fix one thing, probably,” said Sophie. “Let me get you down from there, Gilly; I have a couple of potions to try out on you.”

     A few moments and two potions later—the first potion hadn’t worked, but the second did the trick—Gilly was once again an Usul.

     “Ugh,” said Gilly. “Thanks, Sophie. I like Mortogs and all, but…” She trailed off, shuddering.

     “So,” said Ilere. “Gilly has been cured. Tell me who you sent to my home.”

     Bruno glared at Ilere. “That’s really all you care about, huh. Well, if it gets you out of town faster…”

     He turned pointedly to Sophie before saying, “She was a Faerie Tonu. About a head shorter than me. She looked tired. Wasn’t carrying a baby or anything, but… if she did leave that baby at her place, I really don’t approve. But maybe don’t let Ilere do anything too nasty, even if that Tonu did sort of help get my apartment burned down. Indirectly.”

     “You speak as though Sophie can stop me,” said Ilere.

     “Or that I’d want to,” Sophie added. “I’m not too thrilled with the wayward parents, either. But… ugh. I don’t think I can handle this kid on my own, and I’d rather not get anyone else turned into a Mortog or let the baby set anything else on fire. As much as I hate to admit it, I’m going to have to call for backup.”

     “Do that if you like,” said Ilere. “I’ll be taking my leave now.”

     “Oh, no you won’t,” said Sophie.

     “There’s nothing more for me to do here,” said Ilere. “And I’m quite sick of this whole affair.”

     “Actually, there is something for you to do here,” said Sophie. “If I have to deal with those Red Erisim eggheads, so do you.”

     “I don’t, actually,” said Ilere. “You can stay here and talk with whoever you wish. But I am leaving. And if a single mushroom goes missing from my patch, you will not enjoy our next meeting.”

     “I mean, I didn’t exactly enjoy this one,” said Sophie. “Look, I’m not into the whole Order of the Red Erisim schtick, and I’d hoped to avoid having to bring them in, especially since they keep trying to recruit me… byt there’s a chance they’ll be able to track down the baby’s family faster than either of us could alone. And they’ll probably want to talk to you anyway—if you’re not here, then you’ll just end up with a bunch of nosy wizards on your doorstep, which nobody likes. This’ll probably get things over with faster.”

     Ilere was feeling quite tired of people and deeply irritated by the day’s events, but… it was true that nobody liked nosy wizards on their doorstep, and she suspected that said wizards would have no trouble getting directions if Ilere left now.

     She once again imagined just turning everyone in the vicinity into some form of plant or fungus, but upon reflection, and after a nice, deep breath, she decided she could bear to remain just a bit longer before doing anything that might get an angry mob trying to burn her home down.

     “Fine,” said Ilere. “I’ll wait. But not for long. Do whatever you need to do.”

     ---

     “Now aren’t you just the sweetest little thing I ever did see!” said a little Green Bruce hedgewitch—about as wide as she was tall, wearing a hat that stood nearly the same height as the rest of her—scooping the Baby Elephante out of her basket.

     “Um,” said Sophie. “I did tell you about the baby’s, uh, condition—”

     The Bruce chuckled, cradling the Elephante in her arms with what appeared to be some expertise. “Don’t you worry about me,” she said. “I come from a long line of witches who came into their powers very early; I know how to deal with wee ones who haven’t quite gotten control of their magic. And if worst comes to worst, one of my colleagues will be able to fix me up.” She paused a moment. “Actually—Ganfrey?” she said, glancing over at a bearded Mynci who was nearby, speaking with a few Neovians.

     “Eh?” said the Mynci, turning towards the Bruce. “What is it, Hilda?”

     “My apprentice and I have been working on transmogrifications,” said Hilda. “If I have a little slip-up and get turned into something, would you be a dear and take me to him? He needs a bit more practical experience.”

     “Sure,” said Ganfrey. “But try not to get turned into anything too slimy. These are new robes!”

     “Much appreciated, and I’ll do my best not to,” said Hilda. She turned back to Sophie and added, “In any case, the baby will be in good hands until we find her family, don’t you worry. I’m so glad you’ve finally decided to reach out. It’s always good to have some fresh blood in the Order—I know you have a few gaps in your education, but we’re all colleagues here, and I’m sure you’ll find plenty of people eager to help you fill them in.”

     “I’m not joining your Order,” said Sophie. “And my education’s fine, thanks. I just figured you’d all be able to get this baby out of my hair faster than I could alone.”

     “Indeed,” said a maroon-robed Pink Bori who seemed to be in charge of the small flock of wizards who’d come whooshing into Neovia. “You could have avoided quite a bit of trouble had you come to us sooner.”

     And the wizards, to their credit, did seem to be trying to help. A few had gathered around the apartment building and were casting what appeared to be repair spells, though there seemed to be some disagreement as to what colour the new walls ought to be. And one more—or was that a wizard? That Techo was indeed wearing a tall, pointed, wizard-y hat, but was wearing robes that looked unusually suit-like, and Ilere didn’t think wizards tended to carry briefcases—was saying something to what Ilere thought might be the building’s owner. A few words carried over the distance enough for Ilere to hear:

      “...I’d bet my tail… not up to code… I should… fire marshal...”

     “I’m an independent witch,” said Sophie, rolling her eyes. “I prefer to solve my own problems when I can. But, yeah, I guess I’m not great with kids. I’ll be sure and call you first thing next time somebody tries to leave a baby on my doorstep.”

     “I’d appreciate it,” said the Bori. “In any case…” She turned to Ilere. “Pleasure to meet you—Ilere of the Woods, correct? I’m called Rasala the Bright. You were the one who found the child?”

     “The child was on my doorstep this morning,” said Ilere. “I saw no sign of who left her there; I only realised the baby was there when she started wailing.”

     Rasala tsked. “Poor girl. Poor parents, too.”

     “They’ll be in far poorer condition when I’m finished with them,” said Ilere.

     The Bori frowned. “Whoever left that child on your doorstep was probably desperate.”

     “They should have picked a wiser form of desperation,” Ilere said.

     “I hate to say it, but Ms. of-the-Woods over here has a point,” said Sophie. “I’m finding it hard to work up much sympathy for someone who just left their baby on the doorstep of the Haunted Woods’ worst babysitter.”

     “Few people make their best decisions when they feel backed into a corner,” said Rasala. “They found themselves in over their heads in a situation they didn’t know how to deal with, and they didn’t know where to turn.”

     “There were plenty of other doorsteps,” said Ilere. “My home is hardly easy to reach.”

     Rasala sighed. “Look. I understand that you’re upset. Nobody appreciates having a baby show up on their doorstep. And I certainly don’t like getting caught up in faerie business. But let me and my colleagues handle things our way, and we’ll do our best to make sure this doesn’t happen again. There’s no need for things to get messier than they already have.”

     “People need to know,” said Ilere, “that I am not a solution to their problems.”

     “In fairness,” said Rasala, “you did help at least one child of the Haunted Woods.”

     “Help, my tailbone!” said Sophie. “She abandoned me in a shack!”

     “You know, plenty of great mages come from less-than-ideal childhood situations,” Ganfrey piped up. “Orphaned, mistreated by a stepparent, lost in the woods and raised by feral Petpets…”

     “If you say anything about how hardship builds character,” said Sophie, “I’m going to zap you.”

     “Oh, you want to build some extra character, eh?” said Ganfrey, the tip of his staff lighting up.

     Bruno growled. “I’ll show you some character…” he said, taking a step forward, looming over the Mynci.

     “Easy now, everyone,” said Hilda. “Let’s not come to blows. It would set an awful example for the baby.”

     “Y-yeah,” said Gilly, sounding a little uncertain. “Let’s… not fight in front of the baby. Or at all, maybe?”

     “Sure. Let’s all think of the baby,” said Rasala. “Anyways, we’ll make sure the parents know not to come anywhere near your home again.”

     “If I let something like this slide,” said Ilere, “after—somewhat against my will—playing some small role in the resolution of this situation, then it won’t just be the parents I have to worry about. Others will want to come bother me with their problems. I am not the sort of faerie who offers blessings and gives quests and feeds cookies to stray Neopians. I am Ilere of the Woods, and I am not to be trifled with.”

     “And I’m Rasala the Bright, leader of the Order of the Red Erisim, and I’m also not to be trifled with,” said Rasala, her ears flattening back against the brim of her hat. “So. Let’s not trifle with each other.”

     “Oh!” said Hilda. “That reminds me—I’ve been meaning to bring my new trifle recipe to one of our local Order meetings. Ganfrey, when you visit next Wednesday, remind me to get the ingredients.”

     “Of course,” said Ganfrey. “I’m looking forward to trying it!”

     Rasala closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Ilere wondered what she was contemplating turning everyone into.

     “Anyways,” said Rasala, looking back at Ilere, “I can’t let you bring any harm to the baby’s parents. But… maybe we could find some sort of compromise.”

     ---

     Wizards, though certainly interesting in their approach to problems, could at least be efficient when they all set their minds to a single issue.

     It hadn’t taken them too long to put together a solid tracking spell, though they’d wasted some time in bickering: “What do you mean, you want to use Myrelle’s Mystical Tracer? Even a half-witted Babaa could tell you that Abroth’s Arcane Soulseeker makes the most sense!”

     But now Ilere—and, alas, a small escort of wizards, as well as Sophie—stood in front of a little inn in a small settlement some ways north of Neovia.

     The windows were decorated with cobwebs, and flickering candlelight could be seen through the windows. Ilere glanced down at the glowing red crystal the wizards had enchanted (and that Sophie had insisted on decorating with a tiny skull she’d pulled out of one of her hip pouches “to make it more intimidating”) and found it still tugging gently at the string that bound it, its pointed tip directing Ilere into the inn.

     She’d have an audience for this. Good.

     She considered blasting the door down, but as the innkeeper had (so far as she knew) done nothing to offend her and it would be a waste if another tree had to be felled to replace the wooden door, Ilere simply opened it normally and stepped inside.

     There, hunched over the bar, were a pair of Neopets—a spotted Korbat and a Faerie Tonu.

     Ilere was mildly amused at the way people flinched as they looked at her. It was likely they knew more-or-less who she was; there weren’t that many earth faeries of her stature in the Haunted Woods.

     But the Korbat and Tonu didn’t look up until Ilere laid a hand down on both their shoulders.

     Startled, the two looked up at her. Ilere could see an array of slightly green pustules on the Korbat’s face; it seemed like whatever ectoplasm-using remedy he’d been using was starting to work.

     “L-L-Lady Ilere!” the Tonu stammered.

     Again with the “Lady.” It really wasn’t going to help anyone’s case.

     “You left something at my home,” said Ilere, her voice cold, her eyes aglow with magic. “My house is not a daycare.”

     “I—we—please,” said the Korbat, “We can explain!”

     “Ah,” said the Neopet tending the bar—a relatively well-dressed green Hissi who was nervously running a white cloth around the rim of an empty glass. “Perhaps you could explain outside? Meaning no offence, Lady Ilere, but…” He trailed off, glancing down at the glass he was holding.

     Ilere studied the Hissi for a moment; he seemed to wilt under her gaze. But she had no reason to be angry with him, really.

     Without another word to him, she tightened her grip on the Korbat and Tonu’s shoulders and teleported herself and both wayward parents outside—into a clearing far enough from the inn to keep anyone inside the inn from seeing what was about to happen.

     And also a short distance from the rest of the group she’d come with.

     With another swift spell, Ilere called vines from the dark soil, entangling both Neopets’ limbs, holding them both perfectly still.

     “L-Lady Ilere,” the Tonu stammered.

     “Be silent,” Ilere snapped.

     The two Neopets fell silent. Ilere could see them trembling beneath the vines.

     After a moment, the Tonu said, in a tiny voice, “Our… our child. Is she…?”

     “She’s fine,” said Ilere. “I left her in safe hands. You, on the other hand… you left a baby on my doorstep. Did you really think I’d tolerate something like that?”

     “You… took care of Sophie,” the Korbat ventured.

     “Sophie took care of herself,” said Ilere. “I gave her what she needed to survive, left her to her own devices, and she rose to the occasion. More importantly, the person who left her with me did so with permission. You, without asking, left me with a baby whose sneezes can turn Neopets into Mortogs and set things on fire! And, presumably, give a person a terrible case of… whatever those things are on your face. Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t turn you both into mushrooms and feed you to the Esophagor!”

     The two looked at each other, eyes wide, seemingly struggling for an answer.

     “That’s enough, Ilere,” came a voice from the trees. A few moments later, a somewhat-winded Rasala—who could apparently run faster than Ilere had hoped—emerged into the clearing. “You’ve clearly scared them half to death. We’ll take it from here.”

     The relief in the Neopets’ eyes was far too annoying for Ilere to let things lie, so she flicked her fingers, tightening the vines just a little until the parents’ attention was back on her.

     “If you ever set foot near my home again,” said Ilere, “you’ll wish I had fed you to the Esophagor.”

     After pausing a moment to make sure the message had sunk in properly, she let the vines loosen, dropping the Korbat and Tonu to the ground.

     “Th-thank you,” the Korbat choked out.

     Ilere didn’t bother to respond; she simply turned and stalked off into the trees.

     She was quite certain the two of them would give her a wide berth in the future—and hopefully they’d tell others to do the same. That was the important thing. Vengeance was nice, but sometimes it was more important to ensure a message was spread.

     The Order of the Red Erisim, Ilere had gathered, would ensure that the child was cared for one way or another—either providing the parents with magical assistance so they could continue caring for the child themselves, or arranging for an adoption with foster parents who knew how to handle a child with special magical needs.

     Bruno, who’d been reluctant to move back in with his parents (and as little as Ilere liked him, she supposed she could understand that) would be staying with Gilly until his apartment was habitable. Ilere supposed, under the circumstances—and given that he’d at least tried to tell the Tonu not to bother Ilere—she could let him go without further punishment.

     Ilere’s part in this whole affair was done. She could go home and try to forget about this whole—

     “Hey,” said Sophie.

     Ilere turned. “Sophie,” she said. “If you’re going to try and prevent me from leaving…”

     “I’m not,” said Sophie. “I just wanted to say… I think you’re a terrible person. Like, one of the worst.”

     “Is that so?” Ilere replied calmly.

     “Yeah,” said Sophie. “But today wasn’t terrible. You were almost tolerable to talk to.”

     “I imagine it helped that I didn’t want to be there,” said Ilere.

     “Heh. Yeah,” said Sophie, grinning. “You wanted to ditch that baby so bad.”

     “So did you,” said Ilere.

     “Yeah,” said Sophie. “I guess I did. Anyways. Hate your guts, hope you trip on a rock and break your face, let’s not do this again anytime soon, but… I’m not going to tell anyone about your mushroom patch.”

     “I appreciate that,” said Ilere. “Between you and me, mushrooms that used to be people just don’t taste the same as ordinary mushrooms.”

     Instead of the disgusted grimace Ilere expected, Sophie just snorted. “Yeah, I bet,” she said. “Anyways. If you find any more babies…”

     “…bring them to Gilly?” Ilere suggested.

     “Uh. Maybe not,” said Sophie. “You should… ugh, I guess you can bring them to me. If you have to. How many people out there could possibly be dumb enough to try and leave their baby with you, though?”

     “Hopefully no more,” said Ilere. “Still, I’ll keep that in mind. Next time, perhaps we can find the parents without the Order of the Red Erisim interfering.”

     “Yeah,” said Sophie. “You can turn one of ‘em into a mushroom, and I’ll turn the other into a stink beetle. Deal?”

     “Deal,” said Ilere, inclining her head. “Now, as there’s certainly no reason either of us should linger…”

     Ilere paused a moment, then reached into her cloak and pulled out the bottles of ectoplasm.

     “Here,” said Ilere, offering them to Sophie. “I imagine it would be dreadful in tea, anyway.”

     “Probably,” Sophie agreed, taking the bottles. “Thanks. You have a… well, I don’t wish you a nice day, really, but… I hope you have a quiet one. You know, no more screaming babies or anything.”

     “Thank you, Sophie,” said Ilere. “I wish you the same.”

     With that, Ilere strode off, deeper into the Haunted Woods, heading for home.

     ---

     Ilere’s home was blessedly quiet when she returned.

     She paused a moment to savor the complete lack of baby noises before heading around to the back garden.

     All was well; none of her plants had been disturbed. She’d head out later to check on her insufficiently-hidden mushroom patch and perhaps put up some magical protections, but for the time being she was feeling rather peckish.

     She picked a few herbs to add to the stew she planned to make, then, after a moment’s consideration, carefully detached a plump, velvety-petaled, deep crimson blossom from a long-thorned rosebush for dessert.

     Somehow, now that everything was resolved, Ilere didn’t feel quite as put-out as she’d expected.

     Sure, she’d been dragged around the Haunted Woods under threat, but… if she had to be dragged around under threat, at least it had been Sophie doing it. It was undeniably satisfying to see how the naive, bright-eyed girl Ilere had led to an old shack had transformed into such a canny, determined, powerful witch—one willing to stand toe-to-toe with Ilere herself.

     Ilere, though different from most of her kind, was indeed still an earth faerie.

     And like any earth faerie, of course she enjoyed seeing that which she’d planted grow.

     Sophie was doing well. She’d continue to do well even if her swamp was troubled by the seemingly endless supply of fools living in Neopia. The swamp could always use a few more stink beetles.

     Despite the day’s events, as Ilere stepped back into her tree, she was smiling.

     The End.