ENCASED IN A BUBBLE
I took command of myself and announced, “I’m going to lose this string ... use this ring. And you must lift ... shift ... to bendo dreen, Kar.”
I showed her the lodestone patched in white jade on a silver band. Without comment of any such sort, she nodded her silvery Dragon head and shimmered a shift to bendo dreen Kar. On the island of red dunes we stood while all around us puffs of sand popped in hissing gusts, spattering misty red-grain showers. Kar’s gaze was fixed intently on me. Her yellow green face wore a solemn expression tinged with admiration. So such was she impressed by my confident manner and bearing.
“Why do I have to be bendo dreen? What does that ring do?” she asked in a tone of hushful respect.
“You should see ... be ... bendo dreen ... because ... because because. Just because. The ring will bloat ... no ... float us ... encased in a ... in a ... protective ... yoss ... protective ... trouble ... rubble ... bubble! Yoss! That’s it!” I told her with some force, if not logic.
“Why do we have to be encased in a protective bubble?” asked Kar, this time whispering with respect.
“It will allow ... allow us to boat ... coat ... float through livers of wire ... rivers of ... of ... of ... of ... brimstone lava!” I replied.
“But I can shift to fire. I don’t need ... wait. I’ll be the first jrabe jroon to float encased in a bubble! Such! Make the bubble, Bek! Use the ring!” said Kar, suddenly impatient and hopping about.
Why did I want to be encased in a protective bubble? If the plume of smoke on the horizon was for truth the Great Sea Fire Spout, I felt a need to plunge into it, descend in a search for orruneries and my wand. I remembered when Kar and I visited the orruneries under the Orrun Mountain Hollow and how the heat of the place blasted me far from comfort. I wanted the calm cool of a protective bubble. And so such truth besides, I thought it would be fun.
“Settle, Kar. Stand quiet!” I said without a pause or a flaw.
Kar settled and stood quiet. I rubbed the lodestone the proper number of times in the proper circular manner while muttering the proper bubble chant. Ploop! We floated up, encased, from the sandy red dunes. I pointed my broom at the plume of smoke on the horizon. The bubble floated in that so such direction. Kar’s grin traveled from ear to ear. She nudged me a good one in the side, causing the broom to swerve to the left, and therefore the bubble, too. I gave her a frown and recovered my stance, broom pointing at plume.
“Sorry,” said Kar. “Can I roll? Jump? Will it trampoline? Seems slippery. Can I slide? Can I ...”
“Settle! Yoss, yoss, yoss, and yoss. Do it all, but don’t jump ... bump me. I have to ride ... guide ... by ... pointing ... the ... loom ... broom,” I said.
Kar asked me if she could shift to Queen Jebb, and I nodded that I supposed she could. She did so and tumbled and jumped and bounced and slid all around while laughing and singing. She crashed into me eight or ten times. Our bubble so such zigged and zagged through the sky. I didn’t care. I got the giggles. I found I could bounce and keep the broom aimed true. The long happy day drew to a close, and we collapsed exhausted at the bottom of the bubble, giggling weakly and nibbling on conjured lemon cottages. We observed with satisfaction a giant cone of volcano spouting a plume of smoke fair near below us.
“Great Sea Fire Spout,” said Kar, no longer Queen Jebb, but once again bendo dreen Kar.
“At sunsink,” I murmured.
I yawned a great yawn, and Kar yawned, too.
“In the morning. Vest now. Rest. I’ll point the bubble to hide the bee ... ride the sea,” I said.
“You could ruby ring us alert,” suggested Kar.
“Morning,” I insisted, pointing the broom downward.
We sank to the sea and rode there, rocked on gentle billows to sleep. But first, of course, I remembered to cap the broom with my witchly hat and to chant the anchor chant. Cap and chant. So such I knew some unknown how to keep the bubble in place while we rested on the sea beside the great cone mountain of volcano.