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Feb 27, 2012 16:19
Above the hub was a blobbly mass, which sported two mouths and several watchful eyes. The creatures passed at random back and forth around the perimeter of the garden. I shrank back
against the trunk of the beech tree instinctively, but I knew they were unlikely to spot me
from there. At this distance I would look like a blackbird on all seven planes. It was when
I got closer that they might break through my illusion.
The sixth planes was clear. But the seventh ...that was curious. I couldn't see anything obvious---the house, the street,the night all looked unchanged-- but,call it intuition if you like, I was sure something was a present there lurking.
I rubbed my beak doubtfully against a knot of wood. As expected, there was a good deal of powerful magic at work here. I'd heard of Lovelace. He was considered a formidable magician
and a hard taskmaster. I was lucky I had never been called up in his service, and I did not
much want his enmity or that of his servants. But I had to obey that kid.
The soggy blackbird took off from the branch and swooped across the road, conveniently avoiding the arc of light from the nearest lamp. It landed in a patch of scrubby grass at the corner of the wall. Four black trash bags had been left out there for collection the next morning. The blackbird hopped behind the bags. A cat that had observed the bird from some way off waited a few moments for it. Behind the bags it discovered no bird, black or otherwise. There was nothing there but a freshly turned molehill.