Writers of the Future, Volume 28 Read Online Free PDF Page A

as if she could see beyond the lids, her eyes lingering on the dead rat tail sticking out at his waist (front waist, rightmost) and the feathers protruding from a lid upon his leg (right leg, center column, sixth down).
    Relinquishing his hand again to her ministrations, he started to say he didn’t know, then stopped. He remembered Haigh rushing about, shoving more things into Lan’s hands, insisting he find places for them in his already stuffed body.
    There’d been expensive and rare ingredients: a diamond beaker (back, leftmost column, second down) and an emerald hummingbird (chest, center-left column, sixth down); that one was tickling his insides every time it decided to hover. Flowers hardened and coated with blood-dyed amber. He remembered contemplating whether he could remove the embalmed rat, but he’d helped make that rat, Haigh handing him the tools and letting him fill the miniature stoppered urns. He’d been so excited. No, the rat stayed and the ambered flowers were shoved in with a basket of seeds.
    So he shrugged. “It is possible. He didn’t say anything about most of what he gave me today.”
    She lifted his hand up. “Looks good. Just be careful until it dries all the way. You don’t want anything to misform.”
    “How is my head ? ”
    “It looks all right, but I wouldn’t put anything in it just yet.” She didn’t mention the vase, so Lan didn’t mention it either. Nor did he know what he would put in it if he couldn’t find the shears, the needles, the prongs and there was something else, but his head hurt too much to really think about it. Probably one of those pestles; yes, that seemed right. It surprised him that he was having so much trouble remembering.
    “But it still hurts.”
    “It hurts ? ”
    He nodded.
    “Hmm.” She looked into his head again and felt around, pushing against some of the newly woven branches. “It looks good now. Everything looks fine, Lan. I don’t know why it’d be hurting. Maybe it’ll get better as the wood settles.” She kissed his cheek, then turned to peek out the window.
    “I’m sure he probably gave whatever it was to you. He trusted you.”
    “But I don’t even know what it is.”
    She shook her head, her eyes growing dark, and he heard her mutter under her breath. He caught only the tail end, “. . . enough to get him killed. Stupid man.” Then louder, she said, “He certainly loved his toys. I just wish they hadn’t gotten him killed.” She glanced over at Lan’s body again, her eyes lingering on some of the lids, making him squirm uncomfortably.
    Lan nodded. He didn’t know what else to do. She was right; Haigh had loved that workshop, had rapped Lan’s knuckles many a time when he’d tried to touch things, some of which were now, oddly, inhabiting his body. It never hurt, but he’d always been chastened and would look on in awe as Haigh finished something else. It’d only been during the last ten to twenty basket additions that Haigh had finally let Lan do things himself. Mostly simple tonics for people in town and the creams for Jaddi, but it’d still been exhilarating.
    “They’re gone; come.” Jaddi didn’t wait for a response before starting out her front door.
    “Why ? ”
    “I’m not going to just leave him up there. You’re fixed and those queen’s guards are gone. I doubt they’ll be back again today, if ever. Maybe we can bury him right inside the forest or under the eaves of those tall trees in his backyard.” She rattled off a few more options, her voice soothing the pounding in Lan’s head. His own thoughts turned back to the workshop. He’d be able to find the things for his head in there, certainly. That should make the headache disappear. He hoped.
    They ended up burying Haigh at the base of a large maple tree halfway between the house and the start of the forest. The wildflowers grew like crazy outside the shadow of the tree, ringing the grave and dancing in the wind as the spring turned to