https://www.dropbox.com/s/n3w3j7n06vqmv3s/WyNaughtandtheManyMothers.pdf

https://www.dropbox.com/s/n3w3j7n06vqmv3s/WyNaughtandtheManyMothers.pdf

http://i.imgur.com/C9A2Riq.jpg

In which our Beast of Bad makes a Nun of None.

Written and illustrated by James Craven (Dinmenel)

with art from Jenna Burjoski (Toesock)

Rhonda the grimtoad heated her hiney atop the cap of Nana Nibblet’s http://i.imgur.com/2aGECnD.jpg Her smoke belching lonely without Wy, she squirmed atop the squished chimney and let the ugly chimes of the commotion taking place below waft up to her ear holes.

“WY-UH-LANDREEUH, I ‘CLARE TA Y’FFRE!” Nana shrieked at the little girl. “I don’ know what I’m gonna do with you!” Wy dodged the swipe of a meaty paw and scampered away to her oregano nest.

“Leave off, Nana!” she shouted back. “It was just a bit of fun!”

“Oh, woeissme!” _{her Nana answered, and collapsed back onto her pouf.} “Just a bit of fun, she says. Face-snakes buzzing at my door after her sorry skin, and she says it were just a bit of fun to KILL THE LAW!” She spit a bit of imported chewing mint into the fire. The salamanders hissed and dove after the treat. “And with your Uncle here, and all… what he must think of me, rearin’ a Bad Beast like you…”

“He knows exactly who to blame when a child is a beast,” said Uncle’s deep voice from the bear-back chair. “And blaming the child is a lie and a shame,” he finished in a mutter, and puffed on his pipe.

“Yes, yes, I suppose you’re right,” Nana went on. “Bad Blood brews a Bad Beast, however we good, kind creatures try to prevent it.” Uncle choked on his smoke.

“Well, I did what I could for the little cretin, the Mara help me,” Nana grumbled on, glaring at Wy, “but you’re determined to be Bad Beast Number None just like your parents.”

“Number None?” Uncle asked.

“Aye, Number None. Beasts so foul the Law has them unwritten. And she’d go the same way, with what she’s done, if she weren’t so young and pitiful as to make the face-snakes question the Rules. Instead she gets Exile.” Wy’s breath caught. Leave the forest forever?

“The girl is banished, Nibbles?” said Uncle, his voice gravel.

“Aye,” answered Nana with a flash of savvy eye. “Cast out for the good of the forest. And for her good too, I shouldn’t wonder.”

Ash fluttered as the fire http://i.imgur.com/3oSoDqR.jpg. Then Uncle said,

“Come here, girl.”

Wy crawled reluctantly out of her nest and stood in front of the old animal. http://i.imgur.com/SGNklic.jpg

“Do you know what a library is?” he asked. Wy shook her puckerbrush head, and the orc sighed. “Does she read, at least?”

“Of course I read,” Wy snapped. “I’m not bosmer.” Nana scowled.

“You must know something of books, then. Your Nana helps me acquire them, now and then, though she does not care for them herself,” the orc went on. “I care for a place with more books than there are trees in this forest. It is my library. Would you like to see it?”

“You mean, ‘Do you want to live there?’” Wy said. “And I don’t want to leave.”

“They have banished you,” Uncle growled. “If you stay, they will kill you.”

Nana hissed, “They’ll unwrite you.”

“Or maybe,” Wy replied, scowling blackly, “I’ll unwrite myself.”

“You will not,” barked Nana. “Urag, she’ll go with you. She’ll go, or I’ll get my worth out of her from the meat traders in the Weald.” Uncle just looked at Wy. The little elf grimaced, and shrugged resentfully.

“Very well,” Uncle allowed. He stood, and took Wy’s tiny hand in his huge soft one. “Nibbles, we should go. Thank you for the book.”

http://i.imgur.com/OHKRiCP.jpg Wy looked glumly up at her smoking buddy as they went, and the grimtoad nodded morose sympathy down. Her Nana, however, snatched up a fallen apple and chucked it at the great larval lump. It stuck in her hide, to fester with the rest of Nana’s chastisemants. “Hideous thing,” she shuddered, and beckoned them on.

The forest bristled with good riddance around the shore of the river Strid where Urag’s water chariot was tethered. Elves and eagles stared down in disgust at his squawking, squabbling team of race-geese.

Nana Nibblet bent down and pressed an awkward hug around Wy. “Be good, for once,” she said gruffly, pressing a Kiss at the End on her nose, and then leaned in to whisper in the girl’s ear. “And always remember: every elf’s trash is any orc’s treasure.” Wy blinked in confusion, and her Nana flashed her a wink as she straightened up.

“Bless you for this, Urag,” she said. “Bless you both.”

“Thank you, Nibbles,” Uncle Urag replied with his big hand on Wy’s little shoulder. “But we are both beyond blessings now.” He helped Wy into the chariot, and took up his race-geese reins. “Say goodbye to Samantha John for me!” the little elf cried out to her lost Nana as Urag whipped the flock into order. The fat bosmer nodded, and the churning feet of geese sped the chariot off down the river.

“You will miss it,” growled Urag, as the shores blurred by. “But all fruit must fall in its time.”

And as Wy whispered a hot-eyed goodbye to her no-longer home, cindered-out salamanders slithered up her Nana’s chimney and onto Rhonda

who croaked her last smoky croak

as her heart burned out

and fell.

A wind broke in the woods and swept Wy’s smoky plotline out to the oceans. First by chariot, then by barge, she swooped around the shores of Tamriel, sailing north to Skyrim, where breath is sharp and white with winter.

“Why,” said Wy when their barge docked at last in Urag’s city, “why would you live here?”

Here was Winterhold, http://i.imgur.com/m36PPSt.jpg, filled with faceless people living far, far too close to each other.

Urag snorted. “You’ll get used to it,” he said, and strode off into the streets. Wy flicked a suspicious look up at the smoke-pillared sky, then scurried off.

He led her up to the second level of the city and then to a gloomy courtyard with a statue of a tortured wizard. “This is the College,” grumbled Urag. “Where we turn idiots into warlocks. Stay out of the way or you’ll get turned into a statue like him.” He pointed at http://i.imgur.com/oHZt75O.jpg. Wy’s eyes went round as coins.

“Yeah,” said Uncle. “Now let’s see the library. If they haven’t lost it while I was gone.” Wy followed him through two tall doors.

“This is the library,” he said after taking her up a drafty flight of stairs. “Read whatever you want, but if you break a book, I’m fixing it with your skin.” The twisty bookshelves loomed over her as they went in, even taller and grumpier than Uncle.

“You’ll live here,” Urag announced as he pulled open a hinged shelf-door, revealing a cubby under the stairs to the next level. Inside was a box of old music, a broken Dwemer machine, and a deep window.

“The last librarian had a goblin manservant who lived in here,” Urag explained. “But I wouldn’t try the music he composed. It stinks.” Then he closed Wy in her cubby and left.

Wy sat on the windowsill. Part of it had been hollowed out and filled with earth for herbs. They were dry and dead and dusty from neglect, but Wy lay her head on them anyway and breathed in their lonely aroma. And for a long time she cried quietly, her heart thick with the silent sound of ultimate suffering. Until at last she slept.

When she woke, the sun was gone. http://i.imgur.com/6aKSKrJ.jpg, rubbed her eyes, and looked sleepily down into the courtyard. The statue was gone.

But in its place, Knot lifted his limbs

and massaged the night

with bees.

This time, Wy didn’t let herself dissolve all the way into her tree. Instead, she kept her head and shoulders outside, looking eagerly around as straining bramra tugged Knot up by his roots. The enormous tree spiraled up around a column of cook smoke, going faster, and faster. The air thickened with smoke and falling ash, and Wy squeezed her eyes shut against the sting.

But before long Knot stopped spinning, and Wy squinted out. A broken city surrounded them, and an enormous snake-train slithered above it all, screaming loudly.

Wy’s eyes watered from the smoke-sharp air and the pungent vinegar dripping from the grating above. But more alarming than anything else was the shining new tower looming from a field of desolation, too bright to be right.

“Where did you bring us, Knot?”

“The City of Sewer!” said a new voice, and an enormous hand snatched her up and deposited her on the side of the canol. “And a bloody turble bit of it ya picked!”

The hand belonged to http://i.imgur.com/5YeaVQN.jpg, who squinted at her through his goggles. “Blood and ashes!” he swore. “You ain’t no bort! And that ain’t like no Big Momma I ever seen!” He gaped at Knot.

“I’m Wy,” said the girl, eyes watering. “Who are you?”

“Goblin Groeker, missum, Little Momma’s top sneaksy. But Oofrah’s bum, ya cannna stand out like dat! And right under the Fact-Story, an’ all! Here, missum, here.” He fastened a pair of goggles around Wy’s head, and her eyes cleared up right away.

“There y’are!” said the goblin. “Howdy-doody, but yore a right nat’ral born smokepunk!”

Wy could only blink. “Um, howdy-doody. Did you say something about a factory?”

“Fact-Story,” corrected the goblin. “That ugly old thing what slafes Momma’s babes.” He waved at the shining tower. “But we ain’t done here!” He plucked a sprig from a downy grey plant growing atop a pile of refuse.

“http://i.imgur.com/wB2Whxs.jpg” he said. “Near only thing what grows in this city. Chew ‘er up good and quick,” the goblin said as he shoved the herb into Wy’s hand. “You’m gonna need it.”

Wy munched on the soft leaves, and her mouth filled with the memory of her oregano bed. “What’s it for?” she asked. “I’m Wy, by the way.”

“The rain here ain’t friendly-like, Wy,” said the goblin. “It’ll gobbler right up. But this here windowsill-weed, this here Dit-Tunny of Galt is extra-specially good at expectorating. Keeps ‘em pieces o’ vinegar right off.”

Wy swallowed thoughtfully, and the vinegar drips suddenly sprang away from her skin. “Oh, wow. But – what about Knot? He can’t eat it.”

The goblin chuckled. “I fink yore Hist-baby can take care o’ hisself, girlie. Look.”

Wy twirled around. Knot had cloaked himself with a downy mound of dittany. His bramra buzzed smugly, and Wy wagged her finger at the clever tree.

“Now come on,” said Groeker. “We need to get out of here.”

“Why?”

“Because I’m got a bucket o’borts holed up with a clothes-mole down the way,” he answered. “Them what’s in the Fact-Story don’t care much for me claimin’ ‘em. ‘Sides,

there’s someone

you need

to see.”

http://i.imgur.com/PzDCeZm.jpg crouched in a culvert of giant, broken wedding rings and looked out on a valley of lost socks. In the distance, the metal snake-train screamed over cloudy canols.

“What’s a bort?” Wy whispered loudly.

“Kids with stars upon thars,” Groeker whispered back. “Now sssst!”

“But why-“ Groeker kicked her in the ankle. Wy kicked him back, and flicked his ear.

“Bloody – fine, girlie, fine. Borts’re wot wash up all over Sewer City,” he explained. “Or fall down. Mostly, Big Mommas find ‘em right off and nurse ‘em good, but all the Big Mommas around the Factory be dead as ducks. So I’m round up the lost borts erry weekly an’ take ‘em to safety with Little Momma.”

“They aren’t safe alone?”

“Ohhhh wery not. Meter Polices snatch ‘em right off to the Fact-Story. There’s a Sister there; Sister Somebody. Her’s runnin’ a build-y’own-baby operation on baby slawery, I’m hear. Calls it ‘Planned Parenthood,’ and uses borts for parts. The ones she don’ give hearts, anyhoo.”

Wy gaped. “That’s horrible! And the Polices just help her?”

“Oh yes,” Groeker said. “And here um are.” http://i.imgur.com/4DxeORF.jpg wandered up the valley, waving quill crossbows threateningly at the scurrying clothes-moles. Their leader, set apart by his extra-bushy eyebrows, forged ahead to the pull of a floating leash with a knot at the end.

“They’ve got um heartstring,” Groeker moaned. “Blood and ashes, they’ll find our borts!” He growled momentarily to himself, then firmed up.

“Right,” he said grimly. “Wy, go gettum bunch of Dit-Tunny. And quick!”

Wy scrambled out of the culvert, snatched up an armful of lonely leaf, and scurried right back to the crouching goblin. “Got it!” she whispered breathlessly. “Now what?”

“Now we chew,” answered Groeker. “And don’t swaller.”

The Meter Police circled around the valley as the pair worked the dittany to pulpy wads. Groeker tensed as the heartstring honed in on a single burrow in the laundry.

“When I say spit, spit,” he whispered, but then a great bellow burst out in the valley, goosing shrieks from the police. “Oh MOMMA,” yelled the goblin, “I know that tune! BIG MOMMA IN THE RING!”

An enormous green blob barreled down the valley and smashed three Meter Police into the cloth hill before they could do anything but wet their trousers. The rest rallied quickly, leveling their quill crossbows at her crater, but the trio on the hill were up and charging down to the action.

“SPIT!” Groeker shrieked. “TIPS, TIPS, TIPS, ALL ALONG THE ROW!” and he clapped his huge hand against the back of Wy’s head.

The wad of dittany exploded out of her mouth and shot straight into the skinny buttocks of a police. He howled, stumbling against his buddies, and all along the line the police screamed and leaped as Groeker and Wy pelted them with spitwads of dittany.

Wy giggled madly as they dashed through the shambles of Meter. http://i.imgur.com/pD8AlIv.jpg?1, a fat, scaly, green giant, roared as she stepped out of her crater, covered in clinging children with stars on their foreheads.

“Big and dumb as a beast can come,” cackled Groeker, slapping the creature’s ankle, “but sweeter than the bee’s knees! Get ‘em out o’ here y’old byoot!” But the Big Momma was staring at Wy, who squinted back. Then her jaw dropped.

“Rhonda???”

“RY?” the metamorphosed grimtoad croaked back.

“Reunions later!” yelled the goblin. “They’re finna work on our rewrite!”

Big Momma Rhonda snatched Wy up to her shoulders with the rest of the children as a volley of quills peppered where she had been standing and began scribbling across the ground.

“To the wailway!” shouted the goblin, and tore down the vinegar shore, followed hotly by Rhonda. The giant metal snake thundered over the canol, screaming insanity. Groeker leaped wildly from log to log toward it, and Big Momma waded out after.

“Now gimme a toss, m’lady!” yelled Groeker. Rhonda seized the goblin by the head and whirled him to the speeding train. “Blood and bloody ashes,” he gasped from above, and then, “Jump now, y’big lummox, or ye’ll miss the tail!”

And, with a toad’s long leap,

Big Momma Rhonda

http://i.imgur.com/nk6tJKw.jpg.

The borts thought the metal snake was about the best thing they had ever seen, and Wy had to agree.

“What is this thing?”

“Wailway,” answered Groeker as he kicked his feet up onto a torn out old seat. “The Flying Colovian, he were called back in ta Cyrod, but no buddies there cares about da wailways anymo’. http://i.imgur.com/zFyAhUL.jpg.”

Wy collapsed onto a pouf of robes. “Where is he taking us?”

“To Little Momma, of course,” the goblin replied. “To the Crooked Chimney.”

“But who is Little Momma, and where is the Crooked Chimney!”

Groeker cackled. “Blood blister my bum, Wy, she’s only um biggest talker in the Sewer! Her Chimney’s wherewer it needs ta be, if ya know how ta fall. There ain’t no one no where’s the wailway reaches she don’t watch out for. ‘Cept the Sister and her Meter Police, ‘course.” He shuddered. “But she’s finna fix them, you never doobt it.”

“She is?”

Groeker crooned. “Aww yeah, by all dem sewers in the City she is! Ain’t no one can stand up ta Little Momma for long! No one!” He paused. “Well,” he amended, “no one except –“

But just then the hiss of an opening compartment door slithered to their ears.

Wy gulped. “Except what, Groeker?”

“Blood and ashes,” he breathed, his face pond-scum green. “It’s the Mother.”

“Little Momma? I thought –“

“No,” hissed the goblin, “The OTHER Mother. The Mara.”

A long sigh breathed through the car, and a rich alto voice moaned out. “Shiphrah,” it wailed. “Your angelic heart awaits, Shiphrah.”

“Now listen to me wery carefully, Wy,” Groeker said as the borts dove under the seats, “the Mara is a wery nasty demon. This ain’t yo Mundus momma, nah. This is She. This is She that presses the chests of little girls in the night, strangling their dreams and making them women of Heavy Heart. Even Little Momma can’t get rid of Her. The borts and me can protect ourselfs summat, exspecially all together like this, but you can’t. So here’s what we’re going to do.”

He tugged her to the middle of the car, by the doors. “Hide here,” he said, and pushed her underneath a seat. “We can keep Her off a little bitty,” Groeker said. “but we have to wait until She’s here, or She’ll be able to come fer ya. We’ve gotta trapsy Her. All you hafta do,” he said, scrambling to his own hiding spot, “is fall when y’hear da myoozak.”

The door to the next compartment hissed open. Wy’s heart drummed faster, pounding rhythm in her ears.

“Sister,” said the deep female voice. “Sister Shiiiiiiphraaaaaah! I have your heaaaart, Sister Shiphrah!”

The hem of her black, sea-silken robes slithered up the aisle. Wy watched, throbbing in silence.

“Shiphrah,” the creature said again, and paused only a few feet away. “Sister, I think I found one you missed…” She stepped closer.

But then Groeker erupted from a seat before the demon and shouted, “Sing, me borties! Sing for all yore little flights are worth!” And he pressed a feather against his mouth and began to play it like a harmonica. The Mara howled as the borts, too, pulled feathers from behind the prints on their chests and joined in. http://i.imgur.com/1m1RN85.jpg Wy stared.

“JUMP, YOU BUM!” yelled the goblin, and kicked open the door behind her. The demon shrieked again, and Wy tripped out of the compartment

http://i.imgur.com/laAhVSu.jpg

the Crooked Chimney’s

throat.

She fwumped into a pile of soot, throwing up a midnight mushroom cloud. A long yell followed her, and a series of other fwumps exploded nearby, the last one so big it tossed her back in the air. Ash drifted in silence. Then blinds rolled up suddenly all around the walls, revealing long cracks. Weak grey light pierced the dust.

“Up ye get,” said Groeker, and lifted Wy to her feet. “We’re here!”

All around the Chimney, Big Mommas sat with their borts, looking grimly down. In a high chair above the dust, a fat baby orc with a feather sword sat and snorted impatiently.

“Your Endurance,” said Groeker, and swept a bow. “I have brought you some borts! An’ – an’ also this girlie, Wy!” He pulled her forward. “Wy, say hello to Little Momma.”

“How- howdy doody,” stuttered the girl.

“HELLO, PUNK,” shouted the orc. http://i.imgur.com/H5vVLuu.jpg

“Little Momma MALACATH!” echoed the crowd, andhttp://i.imgur.com/Gwx6pFr.jpg stamped their feet and clapped their hands, chanting, “BOOM shakka lakka lakka BOOM shakka lakka lakka BOOM!”

“SHUT UP!” Little Momma shouted, and the Wind of her words battered down all other sound.

“You’re my punks,” Malacath said, “and you better like it!”

“Little Momma MALACATH!” they shouted back.

“SHUT IT!”

“You’re my punks,” she went on, “But SISTER SOMEBODY and her METER POLICE ain’t. And they’re out there, makin’ artsy children of Good from MY borts! Givin’ um HEARTS! BUT it ain’t gonna last! Little MOMMA’s finna free her folk! Little Momma’s finna make a Nun of None out of Sister Somebody!”

“Because now,” she said, grinning at Wy, “Little Momma’s got just the tool ta do it. Bad. Beast. Number. None.” Wy jumped. Her?

“But that’s not all I’ve got. I’ve got a plan, and I’ve got a secret, and the secret pulls the plan, and the plan goes to the snake-train, and the snake-train goes to the Factory, and the Factory goes BOOM!”

“Shakka lakka lakka, BOOM! shakka lakka lakka!” chorused the crowd.

“So whatchoo say, Bad Beast? You gonna help us free my natural born children from baby slavery and adoption? Or are you gonna let your sorry little sadness, your bleedin’ heart, chain them and chain you?”

Wy bristled. “I can’t help being sad. I have a heart, and it gets heavy. You can’t change that.”

Malacath threw back her head and roared a laugh. “Oh yes I can,” she said. “And I’m gonna, if you’re gonna help us at all. ‘Cause y’see, Bad Beast, you’ve gotta be one of us, when this really goes down.”

“How… how do I do that?”

“With a Lullaby,” Little Momma answered, and smirked. “Hit it,” she said, and slid slickly down her high chair. All around, borts lifted up the palm prints on their chests, revealing hollows instead of hearts, and began a harmonica-hum. And in that disharmony, Little Momma Malacath sang.

As she warbled the song, Wy’s sadness lifted, her memories of the Valenwood faded to a distant dream, and her heart filled with a wonderful lightness. But then she realized that that was wrong – her heart wasn’t getting lighter. No, http://i.imgur.com/IwefRYX.jpg, a purple light floating right out of her chest.

Little Momma caught it in her hands. “Here we go,” she crooned. “Now isn’t that better?”

“So much better,” sighed Wy. She felt she could fly right away.

“Good, good. Now let’s see if you really belong.” She pulled out a scale and placed Wy’s heart on one side, then snatched the owl Urim from around the little girl’s neck.

“I see you know how to hunt,” she said, and plucked one of the owl’s metal feathers. Handing the owl back to Wy, she placed the feather on the other side of the scale.http://i.imgur.com/udoUosF.jpg

“Lookadat,” Little Momma tsked. “This thing’s like lead. That’ll hold you down for sure. Wanna get rid of it fo-ev-ah?”

Wy nodded eagerly. “Yes please! I feel so light!”

“Then hold out yo hand.” She picked up Wy’s heart and squeezed a dribble of purple blood onto Wy’s palm. “A heart has to be dedicated, y’know, if you want it to stay away. That’s how we keep the faith of the fall. Whatchoo gonna give yours to?”

Wy thought. “I don’t know. There’s nothing, really.”

Malacath grinned. “Then Nothing it is.” http://i.imgur.com/eJ2pzvs.jpg, and pressed the girl’s bloody digits over her empty chest, leaving a black tattoo.

“That’s all!” Little Momma said, and hugged her. “A freedom feather for you, and another heart for the Other Mother! May she choke on it. You’re one of us, now.” Wy grinned happily as she tucked the feather into her hair.

“So what do I need to do to save the borts?” she asked. “We can’t waste any time!”

“I’ll tell ya. See, Sister Somebody needed summat solid to build her Factory on, or she’d have been one of us long, long ago. There are few unbroken things in my Realm, but there are a few. One of them was a piece of the snake-train’s original track – the thing it used to find its way. Called a pylon or something. I let it stay ‘cause it made the wailway spin circles, and that kept the Other Mother,” she shuddered, “trapped. She loves that snake-train. It connects things.”

“So the Factory is built on the pie-lone?” said Wy brightly.

“Yes,” answered Little Momma, “but Sister Somebody hid it from the snake-train so she could use it. But if it were to be unhid, the snake-train would head straight back to it so so so SO fast, and then…”

“Boom shakka lakka lakka,” finished Wy. “So you want me to sneak in and get it?”

Malacath clapped Wy’s shoulders. “Exactly, Bad Beast! My clothes-moles have tunneled into the deepest part of the Factory. You can get in that way. Then just find the pylon, unveil it, and boom! No more baby slavery!”

“Ok,” said Wy, and beamed confidently. “I’ll do it!”

“You heard her, punks!” yelled Malacath. “Get ready! Ye’re gonna save some borts today!”

In the flying dust of preparation, Wy tugged on Malacath’s fat elbow. “I was just wondering,” she said, “How can I live without a heart?”

But, “It’s easy, Bad Beast,” snorted Little Momma.

“Just don’t

wake

up.”

First by cinder-gator, then by Rhonda-ride, Wy made her way back through Sever City with Little Momma and her punks. Clothes-moles guided them eagerly through tunnels of tube socks and cavernous busted bustiers, to a Wy-sized hole in the Factory’s foundation.

“Now Wy,” said Malacath, “When the Scream gets there, it’s gonna bring dat Other Mother, too. Just remember the song I gave you.” She touched the feather in Wy’s hair. “We’ll come for you as soon as the walls are broken, ok?”

“Got it,” said Wy. “I’m ready.”

“Then go, girl, go!” said Malacath as Groeker shoved a bunch of Dittany into her hands. “Make Malacath proud.” Wy waved, and crawled through the hole.

Inside, the Factory was all bubbling vats and curling copper pipes and steam lit up by growling fires. Sick borts stumbled around manning the machines, the shine of their foreheads the only hopeful thing about them. Working skin looms, skeleton stamps, and face-paints, they slaved for the pieces of perfect children. Wy sidled slyly up to one.

“Hello,” she said. “Where can I find the pylon?”

“Um,” http://i.imgur.com/LYe1Xre.jpg “What?”

“Little Momma sent me,” Wy said. “My name’s Wy. I’m here to rescue you!”

The bort’s jaw dropped. “Little Momma!” he gasped. Wy nodded happily. “Sweet baby Y’ffre, I knew this day would come!” His eyes lit up with glowing tears. “But you have to be careful! The Meter Police are everywhere! Here, quick.”

He led her to the wall, where a large duct panted smokeless air through the factory. “Take the vents all the way up! This heartstring will lead you.” He pressed a leashed knot into her hand. “Good luck!”

The heartstring tugged her through the Factory’s breath, leading past acres of Production, Assembly, and Conditioning chambers. At last it took her to a vent that looked out into a large office. Inside, a nun sat behind a desk as an impeccably dressed man rose from the seat before her.

“I’m sorry we can’t help you more,” the nun said, “but our requirements are inflexible. If your cousin were here with you, perhaps…”

http://i.imgur.com/nBmpTQq.jpg “No matter, Sister. I thank you for your consideration. Fare well!” He stepped out of the room, letting in a young couple.

The nun sighed, but braced herself. “Come in, come in. I am Sister Somebody. I understand you’re in the market for a daughter?”

Wy’s attention wandered. Her eyes roved the room, not even sure what the pylon would look like. Perhaps it was behind the veil in the corner, or maybe – but then, she spotted a face peeking out from the vent on the opposite side of the room.

As quietly as she could, Wy backed up and then crawled through the ducts to the other vent. She got as close as she could to the person’s tail-coated bum, and then, swift as wind, she snatched them back by the collar.

http://i.imgur.com/beOuB6Q.jpg “WY?” he gasped.

“Samantha John!” Wy choked. “What are you doing here???”

“Me?! What are you doing here? How are you here?”

“I came in a tree, and I’m here to shut this place down,” Wy whispered. “But you! How?!”

“I – err – I’ve made some friends since you left,” he said. “The face-snakes got me an apprenticeship with – well, you wouldn’t know him. Anyway, I’m spying.”

“Samantha John, spying!” Wy exclaimed. “What world is this!?” He shoved her, and then hugged her quickly.

“Now shhh, I have to hear this,” he said, and the two pressed their faces against the vent.

“Everything seems to be in order,” Sister Somebody said, sounding very old and very tired. “Are you ready to make your selection?”

“Oh yes,” said the young woman. “Oh yes yes yes.” She squeezed her husband’s hand tightly.

“Very well,” the nun sighed, and clacked her hands.

Two Meter Police entered from a side door. Behind them were three perfect girls. Pretty, sweet, and petite, they looked shyly down at their cutesy toes.

“Here we are,” said the Sister. “Three children of Good.” She smoothed their hair, although it didn’t need it.

“What are they doing?” asked Wy.

“They’re adopting,” answered Samantha John.

“What’s that?”

“It means they take one of those home and pretend she’s their cub.”

“Oh. Is that illegal?”

“No, but not telling the parents that those kids were mass-produced is! Now shut up!”

The parents finalized their choice, sending away two of the perfect girls. The third sidled up to her new mother and buried her face in the woman’s skirts.

“Another happy family,” sighed the nun. “Just sign here and you’re free to go.” The parents scribbled their signatures on the forms, then got up to leave.

“Fair journey to you!” called Sister Somebody, and then bent to press a kiss to the girl’s head. “And a good life to you, my sweet one.” She straightened up. “Do recommend us to your friends and family! It’s always a pleasure serving the citizens of the Sideways Stair.”

The new family gone, Sister Somebody slumped back in her chair, head held in her hands.

“Look, she’s crying!” said Wy as the nun’s shoulders shook. “Come on, you!” Wy scrambled out of the vent. The nun’s head jerked up. And as she climbed down into the office, http://i.imgur.com/NQIIwQf.jpg

“Who are you?” the Sister gasped tearfully. “What are you doing here?”

“That’s not important,” lied Wy. “Why are you crying?”

“I’m not – not crying,” stuttered the skeleton.

“You are,” said Wy as Samantha John stared from the vent. “Why?”

The undead nun sighed dramatically. “It’s just – just – just so hard to see them go! I never had children of my own. But of course you won’t understand, you’re just a child yourself.”

Wy took the nun’s bony fingers. “I understand. But you know, there are lots of children out there.” She pointed out the window to the city. “Why don’t you stop this and take care of them instead?”

The nun gasped. “But that’s what I am doing! Rescuing them from Sever City! I give them hearts!”

Wy shook her head. “They don’t need hearts. Think about it. If you didn’t enslave them with families, you’d never have to give them up!”

The Sister hesitated. “I… suppose. But I couldn’t possibly! My heart is bound to the Order of Mara! I can’t ever leave.” She opened her robes, showing a lead heart tied up in robes behind her ribs.

“Hmmmmm.”

Wy thought about what Little Momma had done for her. “You know, I think I can help.”

“You can? How?”

Wy just grinned, took her feather out of her puckerbrush hair, and began to croon a tune.

And as she did, http://store.trekkyrecords.com/product_info.php?manufacturers_id=24&products_id=67* wailed from the hole where her heart used to be:

http://i.imgur.com/P7u3AH4.jpg Slowly, Sister Somebody stood up, her bony hands fluttering.

“I – I-“ she stuttered. “I feel so – free! So light! As though I could just – fly away!”

Wy picked up a feather of bone that had drifted to the floor when the heart fell. She handed it to the skeleton, along with a sprig of dittany. “You probably could,” she said. “I’m the Bad Beast of Little Momma Malacath, and you’re her Nun of None. Now let’s unveil that pylon, Sister. We’re finna bust this joint!”

“Bust this – you mean free the children? How?”

“Just trust me,” the empty girl said. “I’ve got a plan.”

“What!” yelled the Imga boy, climbing out of the vent. “You’re crazy! You can’t do this!”

“Don’t be such a pantywaist,” Wy snapped. “It’ll be fine!”

“Oh no it won’t!” Samantha John yelled, but it was too late. The Nun of None had already unveiled the pylon behind her desk, which turned out to be a tall iron rod capped with a bright blue crystal.

A moment of silence. Then the Scream wailed, and Samantha John moaned.

“Ohhhh no,” he cried, and ran back to the vent. “Oh no no no!”

“Don’t be an idiot!” yelled Wy, pulling him back. “You’ll get crushed in there!”

The building shook with an enormous BANG as the snake-train slammed into it. Sirens wailed, and the BOOM SHAKKA LAKKA LAKKA BOOM of Big Mommas sounded far below.

“We have to go!” said the monkey. “This place is going to collapse!” The floor shifted.

The Nun snatched both their hands. “Come with me!” she said, and pulled them off into the Factory. Wy just managed to snag the Nun’s heart by its dangling rope. Frantic Meter Police ran through the hallways, screaming their heads off as borts milled around their knees.

“This way, my pretties!” shouted the Nun, and led the borts up and out through the swaying building, to the roof, where there was a bridge to take them out into the city.

The bridge crumbled just as they stepped out under the vinegar dripping sky. “No!” gasped the Nun, and spun around, looking for another way out. There was only a large round gate to a twisty staircase – and, opposite, dittany-cloaked Knot.

“See!” yelled Wy. “I told you! He can take us all!”

“Is that a histship?” gasped Samantha John. “Wow!”

But as they ran desperately toward the opening tree, a burst of light broke from the stones before him. From it stepped http://i.imgur.com/VYTcazv.jpg, draqed in snakes and robed in ropes. They fell back as she glided forward.

“Wylandriah,” she said. “Your angelic heart awaits, Wylandriah.” She reached into her robes. In her needled hands she cupped Wy’s lost heart. “I found it for you. It wants you back, Wylandriah.”

“Oh no you don’t!” came a shout. Little Momma emerged over the edge of the tower, Rhonda and Groeker close behind.

She was too far, though. The Mara grabbed Wy by the ear. “She is saved, Sister Shiphrah! Your heart, Wylandriah, here is your heart!” http://i.imgur.com/yUaRzhV.jpg But as she did, Big Momma Rhonda gave a great bellow, puffed on her hookah, and blew a blast of black smoke straight at the demon. She swayed crazily, wheezing and coughing.

“You like hearts?” yelled Wy, struggling. “Then take this!” And with a dittany-dusted swing, she chucked Sister Somebody’s lead heart right into the sleep-demon’s stomach.

She flew, howling, off the edge of the tower. “That’s my Bad Beast!” yelled Malacath as she ran past Wy. “Goodbye, goodbye, good-GERONIMO!” She leaped after the Mara, swinging her feather blade.

“Everyone this way!” Groeker yelled as the tower swayed wildly. “We’ve got a Big Momma trampoline at the bottom!” The Nun herded her borts over to the edge for the jump, but Wy ran the other way, toward Knot.

“Headed out, are you?!” Groeker yelled. “Well, a fair fall to ya! Ye’re a lowerly creature!”

“Bye Groeker!” Wy called. “Bye Rhonda!” The Big Momma grabbed her up in a hug, then set her down by Knot.

“Come on, Samantha John,” Wy said with one foot inside her tree. “We’ve gotta go!”

“I – I can’t, Wy!” he yelled back. “I have responsibilities!”

“You nimrod!” Wy shouted http://i.imgur.com/CzAllst.jpg, but then the tower really did start to fall, and she had to step quick to get into Knot. He lifted off, drifting gently up between the gratings of the sky, and Wy looked down on Sever City, thinking about the Nun of None and all the borts she had saved from baby slavery. She smiled, and dozed happily off.

Back in Winterhold, the sun was just peeking over the eastern mountains. Her entire adventure had only taken a few hours. And yet, after saying a sleepy goodbye to Knot and heading back up to her cubby under the stairs,

http://i.imgur.com/VmiIo7O.jpg

gone weed-wild

with dittany.