“What’s happened here, pirate?” Ignatius asked. “Morell is easily three summers larger than when we saw him last. And what of Atticus? He was grey and full of ache when we parted and now… he’s vibrant as though he’s shed thirty summers!”

  “It is not for me to know or say, noble Ignatius.” Loxo quipped. “I can barely keep track of where my own skin has been these past days. What of you and your kin? How have you managed to stumble upon more witches and rebuilt the temple at the same time?”

  “There is more in play than numbers and masonry.” Ignatius said in low tones, keeping a sharp eye out for anyone who might be listening. “We companions will need to all sit down and talk of things that have come to pass. But for everyone to understand we must find Hoxley and the prince.”

  “Oh agreed!” said Loxo. “I could not agree more! We can hardly have a meeting of the minds without Hoxley dear and the boy. Indeed, indeed.”

  “Very well.” Ignatius said, seeming satisfied with his compliance. “But I would extend a word of warning.” He lowered his voice again. “These are not witches that my siblings or I have an abundance of leverage with. Should you forget yourself and their property find their way into your pockets, I may not be able to help you should they become enraged and decide to-“ Ignatius pulled a dagger from inside his cloak and pointed the tip of the blade at the pirate’s crotch, “take something of yours in exchange.” The whites of Loxo’s eyes doubled in size as the point hit home.

  “Ah, yes.” Loxo grinned wide, pushing the dagger away from his manhood. “Those are wise words I will most definitely be honoring during our stay in this magical oasis, Ignatius. Of that you may rely wholeheartedly. But where are the faun and boy? How can we be sure they’re safe or even alive? They could be atop Faustacon mountain or at sea for all we know!”

  “That is something I intend to discover. In the meantime, I need you and Atticus to stay close to the twins while I’m out searching.”

  “Oh undoubtedly!” the man grinned wider and bowed deep. “You may rely on that as well!” It was then that the two witch girls with their giggling returned and each grabbed Loxo by an elbow to spirit him away. “Rest assured, great Ignatius!” he said as he was pulled along. “Just as soon as these to lovelies have finished showing me what they assure is a most delightful and private grove in which they can learn more about my amazing adventures I intend to honor your request to the fullest extent!” When the giggling and guffawing were beyond the tree line, Ignatius returned to the mass of witches surrounding his sister. On the edge of the group, Robert sat apart with Siouxsie’s lute upon his lap. He approached without notice to find his brother strumming the instrument wistfully as he stared out upon a cloudless sky.

  “Robert?” he asked to no reply. “Robert?” Robert, I’m talking to you.” Agitated, he lifted the toe of his winklepicker and jabbed him in the arm. “Robert!” the lute dropped and a dagger came up from within his cloak so fast that anyone blinking would have missed it. Beady little eyes looked out from the shadow of the low brim before they eased their angry slant.

  “Oh…It’s you.” He said, lowering the blade and tucking it back inside his belt.

  “What are you doing?” Ignatius asked.

  “Writing a song.” Robert casually replied as he looked away and picked up the lute. “It’s not as easy as Siouxsie makes it out to be.”

  “What’s the occasion?” he asked

  “I want to write a good song. A song somebody will listen to.”

  “Anybody? Or someone in particular?”

  “There’s someone I’d like to play it for, brother.”

  “Oh?” Ignatius asked, crossing his arms. “Anyone I might know?”

  “No, I don’t think you’ve met her. She’s a strange girl who lives under a bridge and never shows her face.”

  “That sounds like just the kind of girl you’d want to sing a song to. I take it you want to sing a song good enough to get her to come out?”

  “I do. But if that’s going to happen then I need it to be a good song. Something that will make her want to trade her shadows for company.” Ignatius looked impressed. For a boy who always preferred his solitude, the hint of being something sociable seemed a good omen.

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  “You surprise me, Robert.” the witch smiled. “Good for you. Write your song then attend to your sister.”

  “I’ve been watching her the whole time. What about you?” Robert asked. “How will you find Hoxley and Prince Damron?”

  “I’ll have to change my methods. Perhaps the answer lies more to the east. That direction is closer to the lands Hoxley would be more familiar with. I should think I could have more luck there. I’ll be leaving soon to continue the effort.”

  “Happy hunting, big brother.” Said Robert as he strummed the lute.

  Back at the cave of the cyclops, all five eyes were on the sand mold as Bohga carried a small pot of molten gelicate from his home-made kiln.

  “Keep your distance.” He told the faun and boy. “The slightest drop from this pot could burn through your skin and bones.” Both heeded his words and kept a few paces away while he made his way over and slowly tipped the pot. Each watched with wonder as the glowing liquid dripped from the lip and began to fill the waiting mold. The indentation it fell into was the shape of a small knife which Hoxley had provided as a testing mold for the experiment. Bohga made no promises as to whether the trial would produce fruitful results. Instead, he proposed that their first casting should hope for a promising mistake to later be improved upon. With that in mind, Hoxley and Prince Damron watched with open minds to see what would happen. The heat coming off the crucible he carried was high enough that they backed away to keep from being roasted. Sizzling gelicate splashed a little as it poured but quickly filled the knife shaped indentation.

  Hoxley looked upon it with great promise. Her conversation with Bohga the day they met seemed so long ago and for the life of her could not remember what he’d said about the process of creating the lyythium. The cyclops seemed to have things well in hand. Even with all the mystery and around the series of events that caused them to meet and be rejoined in the first place, it was amazing that Hoxley could tell which way was up at all. Sometimes it all seemed so confusing that it was enough to make her eyes cross at the mere thought of what all had come to pass. On the good side of things, her head had been healing and the headaches and wooziness had begun to subside. She owed the fast recovery to her mindful caretakers.

  “Ahhh, there.” said Bohga, tipping the crucible upright again. “The first pour. Let us hope it is a good one.” The three let the cast stand for a bit before Bohga fashioned a pair of tongs to pluck the item from the mold. An ethereal glow pulsed from within before Bohga plopped the creation into half a bucket of cold water where it bubbled and fizzed. When it had grown quiet, Bohga poured the bucket out and pinched the item from the cave floor with his massive fingernails.

  “Lookie lookie.” He laughed, showing the knife to the others. “A new creation! And it is no longer hot to the touch. See here, young king. Take it and see.” Prince Damron gingerly took it half expecting it to still be hot enough to sear flesh. To his delight the cyclops was correct. The knife was lopsided from the open-air half mold and lacked balance. Still, a finished creation it was! Its blade was sharp at the tip but not along the edge. Prince Damron flipped the knife about in his hand to feel the weight before offering it to Hoxley. She took it and eyed every aspect. It was crude but it was there; a new thing imagined into being.

  “I wonder if its indestructible like my shield.” Thought the prince aloud.

  “I will test it.” said Bohga with his hand out. Hoxley gave over the knife and the cyclops in turn set it on the floor before stomping it. His big foot came down with such a thunderous stomp that the whole cave shook. And when he lifted his foot… the knife was shattered into pieces like a smashed acorn. “Oh dear.” The cyclops said with some surprise. “This is most unexpected.” No one could take their eyes off what was left until Bohga knelt down and scraped up all the pieces with his long, jagged fingernails. “But this is a good thing, I imagine.”

  “How can this be good?” asked the prince.