The Wrong Side of Magic (14 page)

“Oh, don't be a baby.” Charlotte unscrewed the lid off the tube. “Being a bird wasn't that bad. Lots of species are birds full time. You never see flamingos complaining.”

How could Hudson argue with that logic?

Charlotte held up the tube. “Disguise paste is rare and expensive, so we've got to be careful with this. Smear a dab on your skin and then picture what you want to look like—and make sure you give yourself Logosian clothes. It works best if you think of someone you know. If you only have a vague idea in your mind, you're likely to end up with a fuzzy nose or an incomplete mouth.”

She squeezed the tube until a pea-size blob sat on the end, then she put it on her chin. “You have to close your eyes for it to work.” She shut her eyes for a couple of seconds, then opened them. She hadn't changed. “Now you try it.”

“You look the same,” he told her. “Well, the same, except I think you have a blob of toothpaste on your chin.”

“What?” She checked the tube in her hand.
COLGATE
, not
CLOAKGATE
. “Oh. I grabbed the wrong one.” She wiped the toothpaste from her face, then went to Hudson's pack and pulled out the other tube, checking the label more carefully this time. “This is the problem with making things look alike. Well, anyway, now you know how to do it.” She opened the tube and squeezed out another small dab.

He took it from her finger. “How long does the disguise last?”

“Until you use another dab to change yourself back or until someone sprinkles revealing powder on you. That probably won't happen outside Grammaria. It takes a powerful wizard to make revealing powder.”

Hudson began thinking of guys he knew well enough that he could transform into them and laughed at the irony of it.

“What?” Charlotte asked.

“I took the troll mirror because I wanted to look more like Andy or Caidan. I should have just come over to your house and asked for a dab of Cloakgate.”

Charlotte tilted her head. “Why would you want to look like either of them?”

Hudson shrugged. “Everybody likes them.”

“I don't.”

Yeah, well, the idea of popularity was completely lost on Charlotte. Still, Hudson decided not to transform into Andy or Caidan. He didn't want to change into someone Charlotte disliked. He kept mulling over faces. Who did he want to become?

Charlotte got tired of waiting. She took the dab from Hudson's finger and wiped it onto his cheek. “Never mind. I'll do it for you.” With her hand still on his cheek, she shut her eyes for a second, then opened them. “There. Now you'll be Andy, but better dressed.”

Hudson's clothes wavered like the reflection on the lake. He held up his hand and watched as it grew larger. He felt himself getting taller, too. He now wore baggy blue pants, a red shirt with puffy sleeves, and yellow shoes with ski-slope points at the end. They looked vaguely like bananas. His backpack had become a large leather bag.

Hudson touched his face to see if he could feel a difference. “You didn't tell me other people could change you.”

“I didn't think I needed to. Isn't it obvious that other people can change you?”

He felt his chin and nose. “Do I really look like Andy?”

“See for yourself,” she said proudly. “I think I did a pretty good job. And you've got the clothes of a nobleman.”

Hudson reached into his pocket for his mirror. “Yeah, about these clothes. Next time, I'd like to be a little less … noble.”

When Hudson held up the mirror, Andy's face stared back at him. Well, Andy's face, if he wore a dorky cone-shaped hat with a tassel on the top. Hudson pulled off the hat. “You don't expect me to actually wear this. It looks like a triangle is attacking my head.”

Charlotte took the hat, offended, and plunked it back on his head. “It isn't nearly as silly as that baseball cap you wear.”

Hudson ran his fingers across his cheek. “I feel kinda weird about having this face.”

“Just think about poor Andy. He has to wear it all the time.”

“That's not what I meant.” Hudson held the mirror down and turned to Charlotte. Only it wasn't Charlotte anymore. Isabella stood in her place. She wore a burgundy dress with sleeves so long they looked like flags waving around her wrists.

The surprise made Hudson let out a startled “Arp!”

“What?” Charlotte asked in alarm. She took the mirror from his hand and checked her face, examining one side and then the other. “I got it right,” she said defensively. “I bet I could fool Isabella's mother.”

“Right,” Hudson agreed. “That's why it's so freaky.”

Charlotte rolled her eyes. Or Isabella's eyes, anyway. “The Land of Banishment puts way too much emphasis on the way people look.”

Hudson flicked the tassel on his hat. “Which is why you never see us wearing these.”

Charlotte handed Hudson the mirror, and they set off along a dirt path. As they walked, she concocted a story to use if anyone asked why they'd come to town without parents. They were orphans going to consult the Cliff of Faces in order to find relatives.

Hudson kept stealing glances at her, reminding himself that she was still Charlotte. Nice, friendly Charlotte. She wasn't going to start saying judgmental things like Isabella, or act bored so he'd feel like he was somehow failing as a person.

When they got close to Scriptoria, the path widened, and the dirt became cobblestone. Rows of squatting wooden buildings with brightly painted shutters and mossy shingles stretched out in front of them. Several people walked through the streets, and a few rode animals. Not horses. One man rode a multicolor-striped zebra. Another trotted by on a miniature giraffe. A stout woman with an enormous feathered hat and a decided air of dignity passed by on an ostrich. Hudson couldn't stop staring at them.

“They don't ride horses here?” he asked Charlotte.

“They used to.” She sidestepped a woman who was ambling the other way. “King Vaygran made it illegal. He doesn't want anyone to have something that could outrun his soldiers' horses. That's why he outlawed unicorns.”

“He outlawed unicorns?” Hudson repeated. “We just rode here on criminals?”

Charlotte nodded. “Vaygran put a bounty on their heads. Although few people would try to kill one. Unicorns have a magic all their own that not even wizards understand.”

The longer Charlotte and Hudson walked through the town, the better he felt about his clothes. Charlotte was right. Everyone wore outlandish clothing here: puffy shirts, baggy pants, and hats that looked like wandering traffic cones.

Several guards in red uniforms also strolled around the town. Charlotte eyed them with distaste. “King Vaygran said he sent guards to keep the peace. They're nothing but spies, though. We'll have to avoid them.”

Hudson and Charlotte walked past a bustling post office with a sign that read
POSTSCRIPTORIA
. A dozen bluebirds flew from windows carrying letters in their beaks. One zoomed near Hudson's head. “Watch out for the airmail,” Charlotte said.

It suddenly occurred to Hudson what Scriptoria, Grammaria, and Logos had in common. They were words about words. Or at least
script, grammar,
and
logo
were. “Grammaria is the capital of Logos,” he said, figuring it out, “because grammar rules.”

“Of course,” Charlotte said. “You wouldn't be able to read without grammar rules. Can you imagine how horrible that would be?”

He shrugged. He'd never been much of a reader. “Why do the people here love words so much?”

Isabella's expression had never looked so earnest, as though what she was saying deeply mattered. “Words have power. People who know how to use them wield that power.”

The road reached the main marketplace, where dozens of people browsed at the stalls. Smells of baked goods drifted toward them. Scents that reminded him it had been a while since they'd eaten. “Words are just words in my land,” Hudson said.

Charlotte snorted, a familiar Isabella sound. “Words have power in all lands, even yours.”

Hudson cocked his head. “No, they don't. Nobody casts spells in my land.”

“Haven't you ever read a book? What do you call that?”

“Homework.”

Charlotte and Hudson went around a group of people congregated at one of the busier stalls. “Books can take you to new lands,” she said. “And words can hurt or heal. They also can solve all sorts of problems. That makes them completely magical in any place.”

A few moments later, they came to a plump woman standing by a food cart. The warm-honeyed aroma drifted toward them, making his stomach feel even emptier. “Do we have enough money to buy something?” he asked, walking closer. A sign tacked to the cart read
MADAM LOLA'S SUMPTUOUS WORDS
. In smaller print underneath this title was written
BAKED GOODS THAT ARE RENOUNED COUNTRYWIDE
.

Hudson reread the sign. “I think you've got a spelling mistake. Shouldn't it say renowned?”

“Not at all.” The woman gestured to her cart. “Verbs and adjectives become nouns when they're made into tasty pastries.” She held up something that looked like a doughnut, but instead of being shaped like an O, it spelled out the word
luscious.
“A half a copper a word. They're well worth the price.”

Charlotte gazed at the doughnut hungrily and pulled a coin from her pocket. “I guess we can afford to split one.”

She and Hudson stepped closer to the spread of food on the cart. A pile of pastry-shaped words lay together on a tray. There was a steaming
succulent,
a golden-brown
epic
, and an iced
lackadaisical
. Hudson didn't know what
lackadaisical
meant, but it smelled delicious. “Let's get a long word.” He eyed a crisp
ostentatious.
“There will be more to split.”

Charlotte surveyed the words at the other side of the cart. “You can't break words any way you like.
Succulent
might be good, but trust me,
succu
is going to taste nasty, and
lent
won't be much better.”

That wouldn't have made any sense back in Texas, but Hudson didn't question the logic here. He just looked for something that could be split into two reasonably good words. He pointed to a pretzel that spelled out
to enjoy
. “How about this one?”

The plump woman made a tsking sound. “Everyone knows you shouldn't split an infinitive.”

“Oh, right.” Hudson went back to searching. He needed a compound word. Something like
supernatural
or
honeymoon
.

He noticed that the woman had a picture of a pretty girl taped on the underside of the awning. She looked about twelve years old, with long black hair and large brown eyes. She was smiling, or at least her lips were turned up in an attempt. Her eyes seemed sad and wistful.

The woman saw Hudson staring at the picture and frowned.

“Is that your daughter?” he asked, hoping his interest wasn't rude.

The woman laughed and relaxed again. “You must be a stranger if you don't know who Princess Nomira is.”

The woman leaned toward Hudson, keeping her voice low. “Her name means unseeing, and none of us have seen her for the past year.” The woman touched the picture tenderly. “Some say it's dangerous to keep a picture of the princess with me, but it reminds me of better times.”

“Before she left?” Hudson supplied.

“No.” The woman stroked the edge of the picture again. “When she comes back. Those will be better times.” She dropped her hand and wiped it on her apron. “But it isn't wise to talk of such things. Have you decided on a word you want?”

Charlotte picked up a glazed
readjust
. “We'll take this one.” She handed the woman a coin, thanked her, and she and Hudson headed down the street. As she walked, Charlotte broke the word down the middle. “Just read,” she said. “Good words and good advice.” She handed him the half that said
read
and took a bite out of
just
.

Hudson sunk his teeth into
read.
It tasted buttery, sweet, and a bit mysterious. He had to admit reading had never been so good.

They walked on through the center of town, past more people standing at carts or in front of stalls, selling their wares. One man waved people over to his stall, yelling, “Get your rare words here! We've got
lugubrious
,
tenacity
, and
petulant
. Impress your friends with a saucy
persnickety
.” Those words smelled spicy and exotic.

A little farther off, a crowd of people watched a woman do a demonstration. She held up something that was curved and black. “Never be without the right punctuation again. Some people think an apostrophe is only a comma that's putting on airs. Others think a comma is an apostrophe that's feeling down. Not so, friends. This beauty is an all-purpose punctuation.

“Need quotation marks? Buy two! Don't let your
she'd
turn into a
shed
or your
she'll
become a
shell
. And trust me, folks, you don't want to be out of apostrophes when you need one for
he'll
. Buy a supply now!”

Charlotte and Hudson ambled by another stall, and a mustached man asked where they were headed. When Charlotte told them they were going to the Sea of Life, the man tried to sell them a bottle of acceleration for their boat. Only the word was spelled
excelleration
. Whatever it was, the price was too high, and Charlotte didn't want to pay it. They walked on.

Hudson wished he could stay longer and explore Scriptoria. He would have liked to see what other odd things were in the shops or go to a café and eat a real meal. He couldn't, though. He couldn't stay anywhere for more than a half hour without making the people around him break into boils.