Step in {time}, tag: Mary Poppins

[Mozenrath]

Mozenrath fought back a yawn as he opened his eyes. Hold on a Gomorrah minute, something wasn't quite right. He took in the closet-sized room that contained only a small bed, a ramshackle desk where an unlit oil-lamp sat and a battered shelf with a few books and scrolls.

It was his room, the one that Destane had given him when he had become the sorcerer's apprentice a little over a year ago. But why did that seem wrong too? Like it was something that had happened much longer ago? He shook his head. He must have been dreaming about what it would be like to be older and free of Destane forever. That's all it had been-a dream.

He got up and got dressed, and went off in search of his master, but Destane was nowhere to be found. It wasn't unheard of for Destane to leave for up to days at a time, but he usually announced his intentions in advance, and he never took Xerxes with him. Yet, by all appearances, Mozenrath was alone in the Citadel...except for some Mamluks, but they didn't really count.

The nine year-old apprentice didn't have long to ponder however, as one of the crystals set up to detect magic entering The Land of the Black Sand had started to glow. Mozenrath gulped. What if it was some rival magician looking to challenge Destane? What could he do? He wasn't strong enough to face someone like that yet. But if he allowed some interloper to take over without even trying to stop them and Destane found out, he knew he would wish he had died fighting.

"Mamluks, to arms!" Mozenrath wasn't quite sure what that meant, but it always sounded impressive when Destane said it. "Follow me!"

He made his way to the main entrance, determined to meet whoever or whatever came through the door.

[Mary Poppins]

For what seemed like several weeks had she been at Waterdon House, pouring through the contents of the Library, and still Mary did not have the answers she sought. She had even gone so far as to conduct a thorough search of the books in the workroom, braving the chaos behind its ancient wooden door, the wards bleached into it after hundreds of years of being drawn on in chalk. She knew it was a conscious-dreaming spell, and that of those caught in it she was likely the only one who was aware of the situation. But she did not know where it came from, or why, or what connected those trapped within.

She snapped the book she had been paging through shut and crossed the room in frustration. This was one of the finest Libraries to ever be and still she had not answers! With a sigh she dropped into the armchair by the window, which currently looked over the edge of the garden and then out across the Bristol Channel to the Atlantic Ocean, with a bit of Wales just visible to one side. She didn’t like this loss of control of her surroundings; she didn’t like finding something in the world she did not know.

Her mind wandered back to the visit Sandy had paid her yesterday. She had arrived, via a nap between performances of the play she was currently in, still in her wig and make-up and wearing the dressing gown she had taken away with her from the production of The King and I she had been in some years back and looking both unlike herself and disconcertingly familiar. They, meaning her mother and Sandy and Aunt Clara, had been worried for her ever since her mother read the letter Mary had written before entering the dream. This had included forcing their way into her home, something that would have required a considerable feat of magic, merely to be certain her physical self was well. Sandy had noted and complimented her forethought in the sign proclaiming ‘I am not dead.’ ‘Esme would be proud,’ she had said. From outside the spell they were working to assess the extent of its effect, the relation of which included a fair amount of gossip from Rebecca Baker (concerning the Royal Family and Attendant Persons from where she lived, several of whom had been subject to the spells effects) and some very mysterious frettings from the Unitary Authority of Warrington Cat, who was refusing to leave the Great Library. The information was useful, but not enough.

Mary reached into her pocket and took out the TravelBook Sandy had handed her as she left. ‘Keep it with you and keep it safe, you never know when it may be your only escape, and with it you can always find your way here again. Invaluable thing.’ And yet so simple, Mary thought, so seemingly ordinary, and nothing but words on the page if you couldn’t or didn’t know how to use it, a state which applied to most people.

She slipped the slim volume back into her pocket and returned to the centre of the room where the table with its neat piles of her notes stood. There was nothing else for it, she had ideas, theories, but the only way to turn them into answers would be to travel away from steady permanence of the Library and test them.

‘You know, you might suggest a destination if you’ve nothing better to do,’ she told her parrot head handled umbrella, who was resting against the globe in its stand. Mary then went off to re-pack her carpetbag and collect her various other things and have one more cup of tea before setting out and when all was ready she returned to the Library for her umbrella.

While she was gone he had followed her instruction and he now stood with his point holding open an unusual edition of what appeared to be Arabian Nights and his beak leaning against the relevant part of the globe. The page the book was open to featured an illustration of a citadel of some sort, its architecture typical of its locale, and surrounded by a desert of black sand. It did not seem particularly promising, but then sometimes the most worthwhile things looked that way to start and it did not do to judge things by their appearance.

So, her destination chosen, she collected her umbrella, went outside and let the wind carry her there. Before long she was flying over the landscape from the picture and then the citadel came into view. Gracefully she floated down onto the doorstep, closed her umbrella and knocked on the door with three smart raps.

[Mozenrath]

Mozenrath's determined stance was somewhat undercut when the rapping at the door startled him. "Gahh!" He jumped back in surprise and tripped on his cape, falling backwards onto the floor. He flushed in embarressment, glad no one had been in the room to witness that little blunder. Except the Mamluks.

He picked himself up and straightened his clothing. Somehow, he didn't think that someone trying to take over The Land of the Black Sand would bother knocking. Maybe it was one of Destane's associates or something. If it was, he'd better not keep them waiting.

Mozenrath signaled to the Mamluks to stand down and return to their posts. Then he gestured for the two who remained to open the door. He lifted his chin up and crossed his arms over his chest defiantly. "You have entered the realm of Destane, Lord of the Black Sand. State your name and purpose, or face the consequencea."

Mozenrath was unaware that, while a full-grown dark sorcerer making such an entrance would have been looked rather impressive; a nine year-old, no matter how precocious, just didn't have the same effect...It didn't help that his turban was slightly askew, his boots were scuffed, and his cape was twisted. He didn't know it, but he still had a lot to learn...as he was soon to discover.

[Mary Poppins]

The door was opened for Mary by a pair of, well, distasteful as the concept was, she could only call them zombies. As she stepped through the doorway her presence was challenged by a boy of no more than ten. She could instantly see that he was trying his best to be impressive and appear powerful but the effect was sadly hampered by his very boyishness, a quality which was supported by the scuff marks on his boots, the tangle of his cape and the off-kilter angle at which his turban was perched.

This was why she was here, for this boy.

‘You are Mozenrath are you not?’ she asked as she breezed into the room. ‘And you are in need of a nanny.’ It wasn’t a question.

Her eyes flicked over the space around her, dark, dreary, foreboding. The décor was heavy with black, blues and purples, and only faintly illuminated by the thin blue light showing through the wrought black lamps. The meagre sunlight from outside did not penetrate far within as the architecture was not designed to allow such a purpose. She could only hope it improved further within, though she doubted it, and was at least pleased she always travelled with a few lamps should she find herself in need of extra light.

‘Hmm. Well. It will have to do, I suppose. Now, if you would be so kind as to show me where I may unpack I will see how you measure up.’

[Mozenrath]

Mozenrath had thought he was prepared for whatever came through the door, but he definately hadn't been prepared for this. This woman was like no one he had ever seen before, She was almost as fair-skinned as he was, though both her cheeks and lips were ruby red. Her clothing was quite strange too. But there was also a subtle but unmistakable aura of power about her. He watched her with suspicious eyes.

You are Mozenrath are you not?’ she asked as she breezed into the room. ‘And you are in need of a nanny.’ It wasn’t a question.

Mozenrath just stared for a second. How did this woman know who he was? And what exactly was a 'nanny'? Had Destane sent her to further his training while he was away? Or was this some kind of trick? Hmm...he'd play along for now, but keep his eyes and ears open. He signaled for the Mamluks to close the door and straightened his turban as he turned back to face her.

She seemed to be taking stock of the Citadel. And she wasn't impressed. 'Hmm. Well. It will have to do, I suppose. Now, if you would be so kind as to show me where I may unpack I will see how you measure up.’

Mozenrath nodded and started to lead her up the stairs to the wing where the personal rooms were. "Very well...uh" He realized that she had yet to identify herself.

[Mary Poppins]

She could see her arrival had confused her new charge and that he was suspicious of her. It was a reaction she had often had from young boys, and one that often went with their being stubborn about her presence. Well, it never lasted long, a few games with her and they soon started to come around. That said, she hadn’t seen anything resembling a park on her way in… this place was certainly going to exercise her creativity.

Mary followed Mozenrath upstairs, only taking the lead when they had arrived in a corridor. She allowed her instincts to direct her feet to the most suitable of the un-occupied rooms, whether or not it was the one Mozenrath had been intending for her.

Like the rest of the Citadel it was a bit too dark for her taste, but, at least in this one instance, that was easily remedied. She placed her carpetbag on the floor and began to unpack. If she didn’t already have a charge’s full attention this particular event never failed to secure it.

‘To start with I think we shall have a bit more light and air,’ she announced, reaching into the carpetbag to pull out a long curtain rod with curtains attached. She adored her carpetbag; it made travel so much easier when one’s luggage was bigger on the inside. A marvellous piece of technology. Mary then took the curtain rod and placed it on one of the walls, where it stayed, quite firmly attached. She then drew back the curtains to reveal a large pair of casement windows with small leaded panes in a diamond pattern. She pushed the windows open and as she did so a single ray of sun slipped through the heavy cloud cover just to shine through her window. She smiled warmly at it, as if greeting an old friend.

Mary then stood over her carpetbag, hands on hips. ‘Now, what else does this room need?’

[Mozenrath]

Once they were in the correct corridor, the woman seemed to pick a room at random and entered. Mozenrath silently trailed behind her.

‘To start with I think we shall have a bit more light and air,’ she announced, reaching into the carpetbag to pull out a long curtain rod with curtains attached.

Mozenrath was watching in rapt fascination a she attached the rod to the walls and pulled back the curtains to reveal windows with a ray of sunlight glinting cheerily through them. That was almost more shocking than the windows themselves. There were two kinds of weather in The Land of The Black Sand: bleak and cloudy, or overbearing sweltering sun that was anything but cheery.

The woman returned to stand over the funny bag that looked like it was made from a rug. ‘Now, what else does this room need?’

Mozenrath's eyes lit up in wonder as little boy curiosity grappled with painfully learned lessons to speak only when spoken to, but honestly those had never quite taken (and he had the scars to prove it). "What kind of magic is that? Can you teach me?"

Destane might be an ice cold son of a jackal, but in his time as his apprentice, Mozenrath had grown to have a genuine love of magic and of learning in general. He had a quick mind and soaked up knowledge like a sponge and his hours of studying on his own or with Xerxes keeping an eye on him had been the closest thing to happiness he could remember. But there was a second reason for his desire to learn beyond the sheer joy of it. Knowledge was power, and he was determined to gather as much as he could of both.

[Mary Poppins]

Mary smiled her secretive half-smile in response to Mozenrath’s enthusiasm. She knew she was dealing with exceptional circumstances at this point; this was not going to be a typical run of nannying, but she also knew that standing before her was a child who needed her, the most ordinary circumstance in her life.

She could have told him that the carpet bag worked by virtue of being bigger on the inside and nor was it the only item in time or the universe to which such a bend in the rules of earth physics applied. She could have told him making windows appear in a built wall was simple, there had been a time when the wall was not there and you reminded it of this fact. Sand that was bored of being sand could be easily coaxed into being glass. The Sun was an old friend who always looked kindly on her. These things did not require magic, you only needed to truly see the world around you and ask the right way, and things generally obliged.

But, she was Mary Poppins, she never explained anything, and so she smiled her smile and when she replied all she said was:

‘I think you will find my games most educational.’

And then she resumed unpacking. If Mozenrath looked into the carpetbag he would find it empty and yet out of it still came a hat stand complete with a hook for her coat and a ring for her umbrella. She arranged her outerwear items on it before unpacking and putting on her pinafore apron. A large cake of Sunlight Soap, a toothbrush, a packet of hairpins, a bottle of scent, a box of throat lozenges, two bathing-caps, and a large bottle labelled ‘One Tea-Spoon to be Taken at Bed-Time’ along with a silver spoon (the handle of which was engraved with an intertwined MP) followed, and these items she arranged on the dressing table. After that she removed seven flannel nightgowns, four cotton ones, several shoes and a pair of boots, all of which went in the wardrobe. A set of dominoes and a postcard album she placed on the nightstand along with a beautiful brass compass. She made a mental note to replace her telescope. Next to the window she added a small folding armchair and a tall potted plant. Last of all came a bundle of linens with blankets and eiderdown complete to lend the bed a more English air.

All of this was the work of a few short moments as she whisked around the room at high speed. Finally she turned her attention back to Mozenrath.

‘Now, it’s time to see how you measure up,’ she announced, withdrawing a large black tape measure from the carpetbag before sliding it under the bed. She tucked the end of it under his heel before sliding it up to the top of his head and reading the result aloud:

‘Intelligent, impatient and selfish. Misguided rather than naughty.’

[Mozenrath]

‘I think you will find my games most educational.’

Mozenrath's eager look transformed into a dark scowl as he almost instinctively took a small step back from both the words and secretive smile. He should have expected that she would avoid the question. Magic users seldom shared their secrets easily, or so Destane had said. He watched silently as the unpacking continued.

He was also slightly uneasy at the idea of games. On the streets his encounters with the other urchins had largely been more along the lines of them playing "catch the freak" while he did his best to thwart their efforts. Destane's had been if anything worse. "Read this text and memorize the important parts before sunrise" and "deflect the energy sphere headed for your head" were not exactly the stuff of childhood dreams.

And Mozenrath had not forgotten that she had yet to give her name. That did not bode well. No, he would keep his guard up. He inched slowly over to the bag as she moved back and forth, taking out this and that. Many of the objects were unfamiliar to him.

He surreptuously looked in the bag, but saw nothing but its bottom. His mouth tightened a little more. Of course it wouldn't be that easy.

He was startled when she suddenly turned her attention back to him.

‘Now, it’s time to see how you measure up,’ she announced, withdrawing a large black tape measure from the carpetbag before sliding it under the bed. She tucked the end of it under his heel before sliding it up to the top of his head and reading the result aloud:

‘Intelligent, impatient and selfish. Misguided rather than naughty.’

Mozenrath blinked, but surprise was quickly replaced by indignation. 'Intelligent', well obviously and Destane had punished him for impatience more than once, so he couldn't really argue with that. 'Selfish', he didn't really have any basis for comparison. He had always been on his own. And really, no one had ever cared about him, (he pushed away the blurry memory of a pale woman with kind eyes smoothing back his hair, long ago), so why should he care about anyone else?

But "misguided'? As if he had been led astray like some stupid...child. He wasn't. He had chosen his own way. Maybe he hadn't anticipated what it would be like to be Destane's apprentice when he had accepted his offer. Maybe there were times when he wondered if he wouldn't have been better off in the gutter. But he was nobody's toy. And someday he'd see to it that no one would have power over him ever again.

Mozenrath looked up at her. It was as if the dark sorcerer he was starting to grow up to be was staring out of the nine year-old's eyes and his voice was not the boyish timber of a few minutes before, but a sarcastic drawl that was a little jarring to hear. "I think your toy is broken." He crossed his arms in defiance. "Although I wonder what it has to say about you."

[Mary Poppins]

Mary met his look with one of her own. It was the sort of Look that made people feel as though she could see into them, right down to their toes, and read exactly what they were thinking. It was a look that didn’t have to ask, it knew.

When she had finished seeing what she saw she sniffed.

‘You know best, I’m sure.’

She said it often to her charges; either as a way of disagreeing with them or before letting them make their own mistakes. But for now she simply tucked the tape measure under the turned heel of her boot and measured herself, reading out the result:

‘Mary Poppins is better than ever. Practically perfect.’ She gave a smug little sniff. ‘Quite right, too.’

Mary caught sight of her reflection in the mirror and patted her hair, looking entirely pleased with what she saw, herself.

[Mozenrath]

Mozenrath wasn't sure what he had expected the woman to do. Hit him, maybe, or blast him. Destane usually did one or the other, then told him to stop letting his mouth incur debts his abilities couldn't pay. Instead she just looked at him.

It wasn't an angry look, or even an annoyed one. It was piercing, as if she was seeing all of him, even the parts he didn't know were there. It was terrifying in a way he couldn't even fathom, but he didn't look away. And then he saw something too.

There was a man, He was filthy with soot and held something that looked likea broom, excpet not. There were brushes in a spiral. He was smiling, not just with his mouth, but with his eyes too.

Mozenrath turned away and blinked a few times, opened his mouth to ask. "Who was that man?", but thought better of it.

‘You know best, I’m sure.’ she said, responding to his earlier comments.

Mozenrath kept silent, his eyes darting like a cornered animal's, as she stretched out the tape measure form herself.

‘Mary Poppins is better than ever. Practically perfect.’ She gave a smug little sniff. ‘Quite right, too.’

"Mary Poppins." He traced over the foreign-sounding syllables. It was unlike any other name had heard. He wondered if perhaps the woman herself was also different. He wondered what that might mean.

[Mary Poppins]

‘Of course,’ she replied, as if the suggestion that anything else could be her name was the most unlikely thing in the universe. ‘Now, I think it’s time for our first game.’

Mary flung open the wardrobe again and took out a heavy-weight canvas apron that would cover more of her clothing than the crisp, white, lace-edged one she was swapping for it. She hung her indoor apron on the hat stand and took down a wide-brimmed sun hat made of pale straw and decorated with pink tulips curling around the base of the crown. She had unpacked neither item.

‘Now, off we go. Spit spot!’ And with that she briskly set off down the corridor, down the stairs and outside to a bleak courtyard off the kitchens.

To one side were two rectangles of dark, rich, freshly turned earth completely at odds with the desert surrounding and laid out beside them was a selection of gardening tools along with a large basket full of little cotton bags, each with a small sign poking out. The signs said things like ‘Thyme,’ ‘Parsley,’ ‘Carrots’ and ‘Peas.’

Mary carried the basket closer to the smaller of the two plots and reached into the bag signed ‘Rosemary’ withdrawing a small handful of seeds. She gazed intently at them for a few moments with a far-away expression on her face, as if she were listening to a pleasant conversation. Finally she selected two seeds and dropped the rest back into the bag. She then took a handful of earth and tucked the seeds inside before gently cupping her hands together.

It was something Mrs Corry had taught her in the early days of her training. Well, taught was not exactly right, there were very few lessons of the ‘how to’ variety and far more instances of her being shown something was possible and then left to discover how to accomplish it herself. Her new charge was a student of magic and would undoubtedly be expecting focused lessons from her, but she was more concerned about the darkness trying to wrap itself around him. It wasn’t the soft-edged, velvety darkness of night-time or the space between the stars, it was a lurking, dangerous thing. She could not make the choice for him, but she could show him he had one. This was a good first possibility to show him.

Returning her attention to the seeds in her hand she gently wrapped her thought around them, letting the seeds know she was there, caring for them and willing them to sprout and grow. In a way it was similar to an article she had once read that people who talked to their house plants generally had healthier and better growing plants than those that were mostly ignored. Plants, like most living things, wanted to know they were cared about. Like the reaper cared for the harvest and the king for the land of his fathers and sons. It all worked best when you did it with love.

She felt a tickle against the palm of her hand and there, sprouted and growing still in the palm of her hand was a little bit of rosemary.

Mary carefully planted it in the herb bed before turning to Mozenrath.

‘Come and try.’

[Mozenrath]

Mozenrath hadn't realized he'd been speaking out-loud, so he was startled when Mary Poppins (the name still sounded odd to his ears, but somehow it fit her perfectly) replied, ‘Of course.' and stated ‘Now, I think it’s time for our first game.’

He raised his eyebrow, uncertain about this development. "What kind of game?"

Mozenrath lapsed back into silence as she changed her attire, putting on a sturdier apron and hat with flowers. He didn't remember those from watching her unpack. but perhaps she had put them away while he'd been trying to look inside the bag.

‘Now, off we go. Spit spot!’ Mary Poppins briskly walked out of the room and Mozenrath followed, running a little bit at first to catch up with her longer strides. He was surprised when the exited at one of the courtyards and blinked against the strong sunlight. It had been a long while since he had been permitted to be outside for any long period of time.

When his eyes had adjusted he looked to the side to find two plots of dirt standing out against the endless black sound surrounding them. There were what looked like tools for gardening, and a basket full of little bags. He wondered how she had prepared it all so quickly. Even magic took time, or so he had been taught.

He watched Mary Poppins take the basket and pull out some seeds from one of the bags, before choosing two and putting back the rest. He was growing bored until she tucked the seeds in dirt and cupped the soil in her hands? What was she doing?

Mozenrath gasped when a minute later she opened her palm to reveal two growing sprouts. So it was training after all. That didn't look too difficult. He was good with manipulating energy. Even Destane said so.

‘Come and try.’

He walked to the basket of what he now knew were seeds. He couldn't read the text on the little bags, but he remembered the shapes of the characters on the one Mary Poppins had used. He took out two seeds at random and knelt by the unused plot.

Mozenrath put the seeds in a chunk of dirt and scooped it up in his hands. He closed his eyes and pushed with his energy, working his will upon the seeds. "Grow," he demanded in a whisper. For a second nothing happened, but then he felt a small pulse of power. When he opened his hands he saw sprouts that were bigger than the ones Mary had created, and growing faster too. He smirked arrogantly, but the expression fell away when the sprouts abruptly shriviled and turned to dust.

He furrowed his brows in honest confusion. "What happened?"

[Mary Poppins]

Mary watched him as he prepared the seeds with rough movements and little care. Already she could start to see what was wrong, he was treating the seeds as inanimate objects rather than living beings. Even if they grew they wouldn’t be strong or healthy. And then she was even more concerned to see him force energy into the seeds, pushing them to grow with his will rather than encouraging them to simply speed up a natural process. The seeds sprouted, they didn’t have a choice in the matter and no way to fight the energy being driven into them, but once the power dissipated there was nothing left to sustain the sudden burst of growth. The plant turned on itself, looking for something to live on, found nothing and died with the same speed that had created it.

She saw the moment of arrogant triumph on Mozenrath’s face, and it worried her that he should be pleased to have done such a thing, and then she saw it replaced with the confusion of a little boy who doesn’t understand why his efforts didn’t work.

‘What happened?’ he asked her.

Mary never explained anything. It generally wasn’t something she liked doing and so often things that could not be explained happened around her. But she could still show, and help.

‘Let us do one together,’ she suggested. Mary reached into the bag and pulled out a dozen or so seeds and held them out to Mozenrath in the palm of her hand. ‘Two of these will go together better than any of the others, take your time and pick the best combination. You will understand when you have found them but how that understanding presents itself is different for everyone, so trust your instincts.’

It was one of the most explanatory speeches she had ever given but it wasn’t everyday she was faced with someone to teach these things to. She remembered the day she had stood on Mrs Corry and Lady Miran’s doorstep and demanded they teach her. Perhaps it could also be said that when the teacher was ready, the student appeared.

[Mozenrath]

Mozenrath stared at the dust that had been sprouts in his hands. He felt something in his chest at the sight. Like a pain. He didn't understand it and he didn't like it. He raised his head up to look at Mary Poppins.

‘Let us do one together,’ she suggested. Mary reached into the bag and pulled out a dozen or so seeds and held them out to Mozenrath in the palm of her hand. ‘Two of these will go together better than any of the others, take your time and pick the best combination. You will understand when you have found them but how that understanding presents itself is different for everyone, so trust your instincts.’

Mozenrath nodded. Carefully he let the dust in his hand trickle to the ground, then walked over to Mary and cocked his head to the side, considering the seeds in her hand. He scrunched his face in concentration, then reached out with his right hand, until it was directly over the seeds. He didn't push, like before, instead it was more of a nudge, allowing his energy to feel out that of the seeds, but not enough to force his power inside.

"This one," he said, pointing to one seed on the far right, "and this one." He pointed to one just to the left of the middle. "They want to grow." He had felt it. They wanted to sprout out and become strong.

Mozenrath looked back to Mary for conformation.