Blue Hills Read Free Page A

wing. I should have shifted to Dragon. Why didn’t I get stuck as a nice Racing Dragon?” said Kar, showing no sign whatsoever that her feathery scratch voice annoyed her.
    Then all of ‘em, the four waterwizards and Kar, began a scrawpy confused mingle of babble I had no chance of understanding. Such was so. The waterwizards gestured and spun, each trying to outshout the others. Kar fluttered above ‘em, shrieking and squawking, bobbing her ridiculous mallet head with its silly waving blue plume.
    â€œQuiet!” I screamed, slamming my hands over my ears. “Quiet! Quiet! Quiet!”
    Truth, they settled, and the burden of stiff silence again descended. Lifted instantly by the power of a command obeyed, I stood and folded my arms.
    â€œTell me what has happened and what I must do?” I demanded in a reasoned voice of majesty, and I reached out and pointed at the red-clad waterwizard with the pale green beard and the flash orange eyes. “You with the greenest green skin. You alone will speak. Your name is …”
    â€œFreshet Spill,” said the waterwizard.
    He took one formal step forward and bowed to me. The other three waterwizards struck poses of calm restraint. I tried to project a look of aloofness and power. I knew I’d failed by one glance at Kar, who perched on the rim of the Well of Shells rolling her pink eyes and shaking her mallet head. So I shrugged and sat down.
    â€œTell me what happened and what must be done,” I said in my much more usual timid manner.
    â€œThe Blue Hills! Oh, the Blue Hills,” sang out Freshet Spill with a groan.
    â€œYes, the Blue Hills, and the …,” joined in the other three.
    â€œSettle!” shrieked Kar. “The Chronicler has chosen Freshet Spill to speak.”
    The others settled. Kar winked at me. I nodded at Freshet Spill.
    â€œYes, the Blue Hills. What about the Blue Hills?” I said knowingly, having never before heard anything ever at all about so such Blue Hills.
    â€œThe Harick, the Babba Ja Harick, the lavender witch has abandoned her cottage and fled to the Blue Hills. Oh, it be true. When she crossed the Charborr Forest and flew over the source of the Greenwilla River to the Blue Hills, all magic everywhere in Clover, across Fidd and Leee, in and under and beyond the Wide Great Sea, in Skrabble, in and under the mountains of Orrun, across all Woods and fields, all magic everywhere, in all of known Boad, disappeared. We cannot conjure. We cannot spell. Wands, amulets, dusts? Useless! And more. Those who never had magic be frozen, like that beeketbird there, in the exact splash of moment when the witch crossed over to the Blue Hills. Ye be not frozen because ye be the Chronicler and ye be chosen. It be up to ye,” said Freshet Spill. “What exactly is it that I must do?” I asked. “Bring her back. Fetch the witch,” he replied.

Chapter Seven
    To Begin
    More confusion. The other three waterwizards could hold back no longer. Chatter and babble, they all four of ‘em paced in front of me. Chatter and babble, they milled, tugging their beards, flinging their arms this way and that in seeming despair. I myself did nothing but sit and watch ‘em. Kar hopped from the Well and waddled backward to my side.
    â€œYou heard ‘em, Bek. It’s up to you. Let’s go fetch the witch,” she whispered into my ear.
    â€œBlue Hills?” I murmured.
    â€œBlue Hills, yes. Bek and Kar together on another adventure. Such!” she enthused, ridiculous though she was.
    The boiling babble of waterwizards lessened to a simmer. Their movements slowed. They sank to the ground, exhausted. Eight glittery eyes stared at me from four tired faces, mouths agape, gasping. Angry eyes became pleading eyes. Stiff was the silence. Truth, I knew they expected me to speak.
    â€œI will … try,” I said so such timidly.
    â€œTry! Pah! When the Chronicler Bekka and the jrabe