The Flying Sorcerers

Shoogar was preparing to reconsecrate every tree in the village.

But we wouldn’t let him. To do that meant that all the other work would have to wait until he could bless it. We would just have to pass out spell tokens to the housetree owners until Shoogar could redeem them. Like Purple’s, they would be promises of future spells, and he could catch up later.

“Um,” said Shoogar, surveying the village. It was obvious he didn’t like the idea. “Well, I still need to know — would you mind telling me just how you and Purple did your spell?”

“It’s all every vague. I remember we sang and danced and had a lot of fun. Purple was singing something about ‘It’s raining, it’s pouring, all the Gods are roaring.’ ”

“I can imagine.”

“Oh yes, he also sang, ‘Here we go around the prickly plant, the prickly plant, the prickly plant —’ ”

“He turned the housetrees into prickly plants?”

“Only symbologically, Shoogar —”

“Only symbologically?” He groaned. “Of course, only symbologically. How else can you turn a housetree into a prickly plant?”

He turned and stared across the hillside, toward the village of prickly plants. “Well,” he sighed, “there goes the neighborhood.”