Another journal

You can find all the sections here.

The writing desk’s magic was much simpler than the camera’s.

“The other end of the letter slot connects to the mundane world somewhere, most likely around your aunt’s home. It’s like the jumps, but only big enough for a letter.” Dry-Eyes buzzed over a branch that Emily had to duck.

“So the next jump will be easy?” Emily had guessed as much about the desk. She had tried to remember to write home every other day, even just a short note. She hadn’t felt homesick at all, but Janice was probably worrying.

“Yes, thank goodness. And we’ll arrive just a day’s walk from the castle.” Dry-Eyes landed on the arm of a bench and Emily stood next to her.

They hadn’t seen much of each other during their stay. Emily figured it was probably nice for Dry-Eyes to take a break from playing guide and Emily was glad the sprite didn’t feel obligated to hang around while she explored or bummed around the scrying lab. Since they were due to leave the next day, the two had met in the summer garden to hash out plans.

“Do you know the process for going to see the king?”

“Yes, and I’ll tell you if you sit down. You’re looming.”

Emily sat and listened. Like any storybook old-timey kingdom, it was possible to petition the king, though it helped to have some sort of influence. That Emily was a chosen one on a quest was good, but they needed an extra angle.

“The king could, if he chose to, leave you mired in bureaucracy for ages. You’re going to be confronting him with an embarrassing bit of his past and he’s not necessarily going to want to look at it.”

Emily narrowed her eyes, “but you have an idea?”

“Not at all, I’m a guide, not an advisor.”

Taking advantage of a strong, cloudless sun that shone just for this garden, the two stretched out on the prickly grass, Dry-Eyes close to Emily’s head so the sprite wouldn’t have to yell. Emilly rolled a cigarette.

“Remind me of your plan again.”

“Get to the castle, claim my birthright, petition the king.” The sun glared red through Emily’s eyelids. If she had any say in the matter she’d spend years here learning and hanging around the gardens. But she didn’t have any say and never had. “I know it’s a shitty plan.”

“It’s strange that your people sent you here so unprepared. With all this time to plan they gave you nearly nothing to go on.”

“I like to think it was a combination of trying to meet the rules for the chosen one clause and thinking the plan wouldn’t work. In books the hero knows nothing about the strange land he’s deposited in, his origins are murky—I think it’s all part of the game.” Emily turned on her side, looking at Dry-Eyes half buried by the grass. “They told me the theory was that things would fall into place naturally.”

“That’s very confident of them.”

“I wonder what my birthright is.”

Dry-Eyes flopped an arm across her eyes, blocking the sun. “Child, I have no idea, history is written by the victorious and whoever your parents were wasn’t something I could find in the libraries here.”

“You looked for me?”

“Of course. You got me curious. It doesn’t matter anyway, if all goes according to this tenuous plan then your birthright should become glaringly obvious after we reach the castle.”

Mirrored from Journal of a Something or Other.