A Fistful of Dust

Paul

John swung his sledgehammer with stone-shattering might to hit the baseball far outfield. An instant after the ball touched the ground, Nyctea the snowy owl harpy pounced. She raced John to first base, bursting into the air with a flap of her wings.

Nyctea released the ball from her talons in a swift fly-by. After snagging the ball with a strip of cloth, Nesyamun the bandage boy swung it down to tag John—right as the man touched first base.

“Safe,” Kenta said from the pitcher’s mound with an exaggerated sigh. “Batter up.”

A blue-skinned young woman with goat hooves, pointy horns, enormous claws, and a shark tail stepped forward. Ziege faced away from the plate and wagged her tail in preparation for the pitch. Kenta’s tentacle braid caught the ball from Nesyamun and whipped it at the Caprid woman. She swung her tail with enough force to smack the ball sky-high.

It was a good strategy with Nyctea’s handicap. The harpy couldn’t catch the ball in the air or go full-owl with kids on the field. While Nes guarded second base from John, Ziege clawed furrows in the dirt to launch herself at first base.

However, Kenta thrust himself high on his hair and extended a strand to the absolute limit of his reach. He caught the ball on its way up and said, “Out.”

The Caprid’s hooves dug a trough skidding to a halt.

Ziege and John both smiled and clapped for Kenta while congratulating him on the good catch. Nyctea hooted approval from above. The Kaminoke boy puffed up his chest with pride but tried to act nonchalant.

“Batter up.”

Iron candlestaff in hand, Paul stepped up to the plate. Kenta narrowed his eyes at the Pathfinder boy and readied to pitch. Paul nodded. Kenta flung the ball at the plate.

Where should I swing for a home run?

The candle flame in his mind was tranquil.

The ball whistled past Paul as he stood stock-still.

“Strike one,” Kenta said with a grunt. Nyctea plucked the ball out of the air at the bottom of her dive and tossed it back to the Kaminoke boy. Kenta threw the ball harder this time.

Where should I swing for a home run?

The candle flame in his mind was serene.

The ball shrieked past Paul as he refused to swing.

“Strike two,” Kenta said and grit his teeth. Nyctea returned the ball to him in a flash. The Kaminoke boy flung the ball back, spun it around to gather centrifugal force, and released it with a whip-crack.

Where should I swing for a home run?

The candle flame in his mind flickered and leaned forward.

Paul twirled his candlestaff and swung to hit the ball dead-center. The ball shot over the infield too high for Kenta to catch, over the outfield with Nyctea flying alongside, and past the posts that marked the end of the field.

“Nice hit, Paul!” Nesyamun said.

“Take a walk, Paul,” John said with a warm smile. Nyctea and Ziege applauded him as he walked the bases.

As he reached home base, Kenta extended a hand for Paul to high-five. “This game is hardly fair with your magic.” The Kaminoke grinned. “But that was a good hit.”

“Alright, let’s switch, and we can do another inning before dinner,” John announced.

“Oh, dang,” Paul said. “I’m supposed to meet my uncle!”

Kenta expressed his disappointment. “I wanted a rematch…”

“Later,” the candle-headed boy said as he ran off.

Behind him, Kenta said, “What game should we pick with five players, Nes?”

Where is Lumière?

The candle flame in his mind led the way. He knew there would be some trick to it; uncle never made it easy. Paul approached the pavilion and heard lots of voices. Wherever they camped, John erected a stone pavilion for cooking, eating, and shelter. Stone worked well for Calephor because of his consuming insect magic, as well as Paul and his uncle’s issues with flammability.

“Here he comes!” Cassie said as he neared.

“Paul, can you come here?” He heard the most enchanting voice, Lea’s, and made an abrupt turn into the pavilion.

A colossal pile of provisions sprawled on the huge kitchen island. A big, beautiful blue woman with four arms and an elephant trunk sat behind the table. Lea and Wendi stood on Gaja’s legs with their heads visible above the food. Cassie rode on Gaja’s shoulders and pointed a leg-hand finger at him while Harumi, Kenta’s little sister, peaked around Lea’s side.

“What’s going on?” Paul said.

“We’re making dinner!” Wendi the red devil girl answered.

Cassie clarified. “Gaja asked us what we wanted for dinner and Lea said, ‘pancakes’ and we all agreed pancakes were a great idea. Then Gaja asked us what kind of pancakes we wanted, and Harumi said, ‘chocolate’ and Wendi said, ‘blueberry’ and I said, ‘why not both?’ and Lea agreed it was a great idea. The problem is John left all the supplies for the month on the table when you all went to play teams-of-three baseball, and we were having trouble finding the ingredients in this mess. Then I Heard you coming and said, ‘Paul’s on his way,’ and we all agreed you could help us and—”

“And we’d appreciate your assistance, please, Paul,” Lea finished as Wendi and Gaja giggled at Cassie.

He nodded enthusiastically, “Sure! What’s first?”

“Flour,” Gaja smiled at him.

Where is the flour?

The candle flame in his mind flickered, uncertain. Paul realized he’d pictured a bag of flour purchased on a different planet. He focused on the flour inside the bag, and the candle flame leaned forward. Paul grew an unlit candlestick under the flour to lift it above the confusion. Harumi plucked the flour with a hair braid and set it by the bowl.

“Sugar, baking powder, and salt,” Gaja continued, and Paul lifted the ingredients with candlesticks while Harumi retrieved them. Lea measured the ingredients while Wendi mixed them in a bowl without spilling anything. “Then eggs, milk, and butter.”

“This is going so fast with Paul here,” Cassie said as she happily bounced on Gaja’s shoulders.

“Blueberries and chocolate chips—”

“—It’s going to be super chocolatey!” Wendi pumped her fist.

“Gently mix them in,” Gaja reminded the children.

“Paul, what are you doing here?” Lumière said as he and Cale entered the pavilion, “You were instructed to come find me!”

“Uncle…”

Gaja interjected, “My apologies, Lumière. We pulled him aside to help us with dinner. He must have been on his way.”

“No, I told Paul he could play with his friends as long as he found me before dinner. Self-discipline in free time is his responsibility, but he was caught up in having fun, then got distracted when he finally remembered his promise.”

Paul studied his sandals.

“Is Paul in trouble?” Lea asked with her head hung low, upset, and feeling responsible.

“No, my darling, this is a misunderstanding.” Gaja comforted her adopted daughter and turned back to the Pathfinder. “Lumière, we all lose track of time. It’s a small thing. Paul wasn’t misbehaving or being lazy. Why don’t you ask John and Nyctea how he did on the field; I’m sure he applied himself well. Not to mention his helping us in the kitchen.”

Paul’s uncle shook his head in growing exasperation. “That’s not useful to inorganics like us. You don’t understand, the boy is in danger! He has to become stronger; he has to learn to use his magic.”

“That’s true for all the kids, though,” Gaja pointed out.

“T-that’s beside the point.” The Pathfinder struggled to go on, “It’s different, for Paul…” Lumière left something unsaid Paul couldn’t begin to guess.

Cale put a hand on Lumière’s shoulder, and his insects ignored the waxen flesh. “No harm done; training can wait until after dinner.” The Susurrus nodded at the confused children alarmed by the candle man’s words.

Lumière didn’t explode with anger or shout or glare. Though flustered at first by Cale’s touch, he deflated beneath the soothing hand. Paul’s uncle seemed to age a decade. “Tomorrow.” He eyed Paul. “We’ll have a double session tomorrow.”

Then Paul’s uncle left the pavilion. Cale gave Gaja an apologetic look, which she answered with a knowing glance of her own toward the direction the Pathfinder went. The composite insect man smiled bright white beetle teeth at them and followed Lumière out.

Paul sighed with regret and searched for the last ingredient of the blueberry chocolate pancakes. He reached for the tin of Donovan’s Fine Cocoa Powder, and his hand closed on nothing.

It wasn’t where it was supposed to be.

That is to say, he definitely remembered grabbing it without a problem and handing it to Wendi. That’s what was supposed to happen. Instead, the tin stood a few inches to the left, facing him. Except the man on the label holding the cocoa beans wasn’t Donovan.

It was Paul.

And, in place of eyes, he had two black oil-slick sockets. And he was smiling.

You will never…

Paul awoke with a start.