Wen Spencer - Wolf Who Rules

Lain had warned her once about elves bearing gifts. Tinker winced, realizing that she had become one of said elves.

"I'm sorry, Lain." She made sure she was speaking English, afraid that she might insult Pony for her own stupidity. "I didn't know they were going to bring it here and dump it on you."

"It's a matter of gift horses and teeth, I suppose." Laying her crutch down, Lain nimbly swung down off the trailer, her upper body muscles cording to make up for her weakened legs. On the ground, Lain reached up for her crutch, and then turned to rap Tinker smartly on the head with her knuckles. "Learn to think before you open that mouth of yours."

"Ow!" Tinker winced. "I'm bruised there."

"You are?" Lain tilted Tinker's head to examine her scalp, combing aside her short hair with gentle fingertips. "What from? That creature that attacked you?"

"Yeah."

Lain smelt as always of fresh earth and crushed herbs and greens. "Ah, you'll live." She rubbed the sore area lightly. "Give the nerve receptors something else to think about."

Tinker mewed out a noise of protest and pain at the treatment.

Lain held her at arm's length then and looked down over Tinker, shaking her head. "I never thought I'd see you in a dress. That's a beautiful color for you."

Tinker showed off her rubies and her pistol, making Lain laugh at the contrast. "Do you want the tree?"

"A fully intact specimen? Of course!" Lain let her quiet scientific glee with the black willow show. "I saw my first black willow my first Startup; they flew me in on an air force jet to look at the forest where Pittsburgh had been the night before. I didn't want to come; I was still wrapped up in being crippled. Then I saw that wall of green, all those ironwoods as tall as sequoias. Out of the forest came a black willow, probably seeking a ley line, and the ground shook when it moved. God, it was instant nirvana - an alien world coming to me when I could no longer go to it."

A hot heady mix of delight and embarrassment flushed through Tinker; she wanted to hear more about how thoughtful she been, yet she knew how little she actually contributed toward getting the tree moved. "I thought you might like it."

"I love it! But not necessarily here." Lain motioned toward her house. "I'm not totally convinced that the willow is dead. It might be just dormant after a massive system shock. I'd rather not have it reviving on my doorstep."

The tree that walks… "Yeah, that might be a bad idea. I can get a truck and move the trailer…someplace."

"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."