By Gregg Glory [Gregg G. Brown]
Chapter Twenty-Six "A Giant Surprise"
The dancing seemed to go on for a good long while.
The the few leaves left on the trees, and the many fallen leaves on the ground, whirled and skittered to the dancing as well. This was pure Autumn magic. The air grew crisp and invigorating, and the light was as clear as in a water glass held up to the sun. On and on the dancing went until the humans got weary, and sat down around the edge of the square to nap. The horror and apprehension they had felt about the Gods of Autumn seemed to have completely dissipated in the dancing, which was as much like a Spanish kermess as a dance could be, and yet not be a kermess. The Gods of Autumn, so cavalier with the mortals earlier in the week, now were careful not to trounce them down as they continued their dancing arm-in-arm, their silver punch bowls held delicately to the lips for sipping as they twirled away. But, finally, when all the bowls of ambrosia were drained, and lay littering the square along with half-eaten loaves of bread large enough to sit on, and plops of jam you'd need waders to get through, the gods themselves began to half-lower their large eyelids.
One by one, the Gods of Autumn sat back down on the ground, backs against the trees of the square the way you or I would lean against the back of a lawn chaise lounge. Or they lay right down on the picnic blankets. Adsagsona even wrapped one large one of a particularly elaborate pattern around her shoulders like a shawl. Now their eyes were shutting, and the music they had sung was still in the air, but only because, somehow, the wind and the trees were still singing. Humans lay around the outside of the square, smiles on their weary faces, an honor guard around the resting gods.
Barnabas stuck his head around the corner of the Traeshurstaene Savings and Loan, carefully looking over the scene. A foot lower, Great Uncle Charlie's head of wild hair radiating around a big bald dome appeared, his eyes sharp and inquisitive behind his turtle-rimmed glasses. Great Uncle Charlie looked up, and Barnabas Burrbuckle looked down. They both nodded once, and then stepped out from around the building and into the square. Afagddu lay nearest to them, his curly head and frowning brow dreaming of war-making and the joy of the spaces between the stars even now. His great shield leaned casually against the Post Office entryway, a story-high awning of basalt hue.
From the other side of the square, Granny Pansy and Hemily Higglay made their way over the sleeping bodies of office workers. Granny Pansy had her stethoscope-like instrument out, and was touching random foreheads here and there. Granny Pansy had devised this plan to lay the Gods of Autumn out cold, but wasn't sure exactly how it would turn out. In fact, she still wasn't very sure even now. When Granny Pansy got to Aerfen's resting form, she reached up as high as she could to touch the end of the stethoscope to Aerfen's forehead. The coo came quick and strong. That was good, the spells in the ambrosia seemed to have worked perfectly. Hemily Higglay lay a wreath of holly leaves on Aerfen's head, four more wreathes looped around her arm. Granny Pansy and Hemily checked each of the gods as they went, Hemily laying the wreaths on their heads. They met up with Barnabas and Great Uncle Charlie in the middle of the square.
"What's them wreaths for?" asked Barnabas morosely, in a low voice.
"To get you in the Christmas spirit," joked Great Uncle Charlie. He was delighted at seeing all the gods laid out on their backs. "I think old Aeron is even snoring!"
"Hush, Charlie!" admonished Granny Pansy in a harsh whisper. "The wreaths are to keep them slumbering until Christmas Day, Barnabas. When their Autumn is over, they will slide back out of their corporeal forms, and return only next Autumn to disturb the dreams of men, and liven the falling of the leaves."
"Ah," said Barnabas, not sure if he followed the answer. "Tha's summat."
Granny Pansy and Hemily Higglay continued on their way around the square, this time with Barnabas Burrbuckle and Great Uncle Charlie following them. Barnabas helped to place a wreath on Adsagsona's brow, for she'd gotten so wrapped up in the picnic blanket that some unwrapping was required. While he and Hemily did that, Granny Pansy and her brother moved on to the last god, Afagddu. Just as Barnabas was settling the wreath on Adsagsona firmly, he and Hemily heard a bad sound behind them.
"Help!" cried Granny Pansy in a sharp but small voice. Adsagsona stirred, rolling over in her blanket, and several of the office workers woke up and began to yawn. "Hurry!"
Barnabas Burrbuckle hurried over to Afagddu. Granny Pansy was stuck halfway in his mouth like a white grape. She looked ready to burst. All four of her arms were waving madly, and her cloak had settled over Afagddu's nose. By some great stroke of luck, it looked as if Afagddu was still not awake. He had popped Granny Pansy into his mouth out of a sort of feasting reflex, a kind of over-eater's sneeze. Barnabas reached up with his great long arms toward Granny Pansy. She wrapped two of her arms around each one of his and, waiting for Afagddu to exhale, said "Pull!" Granny Pansy came out of Afagddu's mouth with a pop, but before she'd let Barnabas put her down, Granny Pansy checked to see if Afagddu was in good condition. Her stethoscope registered a good loud coo when placed on the god's brow. "All right," she said, and Barnabas put her down on her feet. Her boots squished from the god's saliva as if she'd just emerged from the dunking booth at a country fair.
Hemily placed the wreath on Afagddu's brow, and heaved a great sigh of relief. Immediately, Great Uncle Charlie stuck two fingers in his mouth and blew an ear-splitting whistle.
"Wha' th' devil, man!" objected Barnabas.
"It's all right now, they're out cold until Christmas--you heard Doris," said Great uncle Charlie, who was thoroughly ignoring Barnabas' worried looks. Great Uncle Charlie waved his arms in the air as his observation balloon began to hove into view. All the people around the square, except for a few over-worked postal employees, had been instantly roused by Great Uncle Charlie's whistle. A hum of conversation was starting.
"All clear!" shouted Great Uncle Charlie up to the balloon. A wizard in the basket nodded affirmatively, and then began to putter away from the square.
A minute later, the hubbub in the square, which included people poking the gods in the belly, and lifting up their eyelids to peer into the great unconscious orbs, was almost as loud as a train station. Then, the sounds of idle conversation and curiosity turned to the scampering of many feet as the first giant peered over the Traeshurestaene Savings and Loan.
"So, Charlemagne, we meet again!"
Great Uncle Charlie turned around as fast as you might crack a whip. The giant laughed a booming deep laugh at the look on Great Uncle Charlie's face.
"Hartlebragginthronsii! What a delight to see you!" Great Uncle Charlie smiled up at the huge ugly face of the giant. "I didn't know which of you might respond to the aereophone signal."
"Ho ho ho," laughed Hartlebragginthronsii heartily, his teeth shining gigantically in his hairy face. Several shop signs began swinging as though caught in a hurricane, and Granny Pansy put a hand to her head to keep her headscarf on. "I wouldn't miss a chance to catch up with you, my wise friend. And besides," Hartlebragginthronsii added, putting his mighty arms under Afagddu's somnolent form and lifting him from the square like a napping child, "how often does a giant get to carry a god? Happy birthday!"
Hartlebragginthronsii straightened up and began to stomp back out of the square. In the meanwhile, four other giants had come into the square, which, along with the gods, left the large public space feeling rather crowded. Each giant picked up one of the gods in their arms and started back out of the square, but not without bowing low and wishing happy birthday to Great Uncle Charlie. By this time, Abbey and her friend Shelly were back at the square, and after the giants and gods were no more than a distant earthquake, they turned to him.
"Are all of these giants friends of yours, Great Uncle Charlie?"
"Oh they're just some acquaintances I picked up while touring the Himalayas in the long ago days of my youth."
"Why do they know your birthday?"
"Giants are very fond of birthday parties, Abbey. I thought everyone knew that. If the Himalayas could talk! No doubt Hartlebragginthronsii will try and pull some practical joke on me before the day is out. That's probably half the reason they even showed up." Great Uncle Charlie put his chin in his hand and looked thoughtful. "As a general rule, giants don't like to stick their big ugly noses in witches' business. All in all, not an unwise policy. We've been very lucky today. This may be my best birthday ever."
"How old are you, Mr. Twisslestarn?" inquired Shelly politely. She was having a difficult time imagining Great Uncle Charlie's "days of youth."
"Oh," said Great uncle Charlie, suddenly shy. "Let's just say that the sunflower hasn't bloomed that has enough seeds to count the years since my birth."
Once the square was thoroughly clear of giants and gods, and the cars had returned to mop up the leftover jams and jellies, Great Uncle Charlie turned to Barnabas.
"Well, Barnabas Burrbuckle, it seems as if you've made a habit of rescuing members of this family. First Sarah, and then Dar. And now, my sister Doris. I guess I'm next in line."
Great Uncle Charlie chuckled at his own joke. The Gods of Autumn may have been slumberized by Granny Pansy's feast-and-sleep strategy, but Barnabas didn't think that the time for humorous observations had arrived quite yet.
END OF CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX