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“Dell!”
“Yes, Mum?”
“Can you come to the workshop for a moment?”
“Be right there!”
An older witch with a thick strawberry-blonde braid sat at a worktable, absentmindedly playing with one of the gray streaks that dusted her fiery hair. Her crafty golden eyes landed on her son, who had just appeared in the doorway. He nervously picked at a splinter on the door jam as his mother finished jotting down a quick note to herself in a scroll.
The witch smiled gently at the anxious teenager, rolling up the scroll and storing it in her pocket. “You’ve finished the practice carving you were working on? May I see how it came out?”
“It’s on the shelf right behind you,” he said shakily.
The witch picked up a fox carving, inspecting it carefully while Dell held his breath, visibly sweating.
“It’s simply beautiful, Sprout,” she finally said.
Dell deflated in relief. “Thanks.”
His mother laughed. “You are such a worrywart. I knew you would do a wonderful job. Anyway, down to some important business. We’re going to have a visitor today. She’s about your age, actually. She would like a palisman, but has absolutely no idea what she wants. Would you like to take this one?”
“Wait, what?” Dell gasped. “I don’t know if I’m ready to help an undecided client.”
His mother silently held out a carving knife to him, handle first.
“Mum? But that’s-”
“It’s the Clawthorne knife, yes,” she said, rubbing a thumb along the textured lines on its wooden handle. “Isn’t it lovely? Your great-great-something grandmother used a small fire spell to create this feather pattern on the hilt. This knife has been passed down to the family’s newest carver for quite a few generations, for luck and support. You’ve got this, Dell. The countless hands that held this knife are now guiding you along.”
She offered the knife again, and this time Dell slowly took it.
“I know you will make the Clawthorne Clan proud,” his mother said softly. “Go on, get ready. Your client will be here in about an hour.”
Dell hummed to himself as he swept the workshop floor. He sighed in boredom and glanced over his shoulder. Finding himself completely alone, he narrowed his eyes.
“Have at thee!” he barked, gripping the broom like a sword. He started making soft ‘whoosh’ sound effects as he clumsily flipped and spun it in the air, imagining he was some sort of valiant knight in the heat of a fierce battle.
“You’ll never get away with this, Lord Toast!” He growled at his palisman, who was impassively watching from the carving table. “For I am Prince Dell, here to vanquish you and end your bloody reign of terror! Now taste the bitter sting of my blade!”
Toast calmly preened his wing and chirped.
“Aww, come on! I’m almost ready, so I can afford to goof off a little,” Dell said, sheepishly lowering the broom. “Anyway, my client won’t be here for another-”
“Bye! I’ll crow call you when I’m done!” someone shouted from outside the workshop window. “But with any luck, you won’t need to ferry me around for much longer!”
“Aww, devilbeans!” Dell grumbled, as Toast smugly continued preening. “I hate it when you’re right.”
He poked his head out the window. A young sturdy-looking witch with fluffy brown hair was crossing the yard, her arms swinging purposefully and her sharp green eyes locked on the tower.
“Hello!” Dell yelled, waving to get her attention as Toast landed on his shoulder. “Are you our noontime client, Miss?”
“Oh, hello! Yes, I’m here for my palisman!” The girl said cheerfully, coming to a stop just under the window. “Are you Mistress Clawthorne’s son? Could you tell her I’ve arrived?”
Dell attempted to smooth his wild ponytail and coughed. “No, I mean, yes, I mean, we don't need to get her! My name’s Dell, and I’m actually the one who will be helping you today, if that’s alright with you.”
“Why isn’t Mistress Clawthorne going to help me herself?” The girl asked suspiciously. “Is she sick or something?”
“No, it’s nothing like that,” Dell said in a rush. “I’m her apprentice, and she wants me to practice working with a client. She’ll be available the whole time if either of us need anything.”
“Oh! Well, that’s fine, then! My name’s Gwendolyn, but you may call me Gwen,” the girl said with a slightly regal flourish. “Thank you for helping me! Oh, your bird is so darling! I love his eyebrows!”
“Thanks,” Dell said, a bit overwhelmed but pleased. “His name’s Toast.”
“Did you carve him yourself?” Gwen asked eagerly.
Dell shook his head. “No, but I’ve had him since I was a witchlet.”
“Cute!” Gwen cooed. “This has been lovely, Dell, but could we cut the chit-chat and get started? Sorry, I’m just really excited for this.”
“Yeah, of course,” Dell said, rubbing his hands together nervously. “Since you don’t know what you want for a palisman, we should start by brainstorming some ideas. Would you want to sit in the grass and talk?”
“That sounds great!”
“Hang tight! I’ll be right down. Hopefully we’ll come up with the perfect idea for your new friend!” Dell called before disappearing from the window.
“I trust you!” Gwen laughed as she settled in on the soft grass. “I’m sure it won’t take too long!”
Minutes ticked by.
And then hours.
And as the sun started to set behind a wickedly sharp mountain range of bleached bones, Gwen groaned in frustration and flopped onto her back in the grass. “No, no, no! None of these ideas will work!”
“What about a bone bat?” Dell asked patiently, jotting down yet another idea in his notebook.
Gwen blew the bangs out of her face and stared up at the orange sky. “No. I like their cute little faces and horns, but they’re not nearly majestic enough! It just doesn’t feel right.”
Dell crossed out ‘bone bat’ and furrowed his eyebrows. “And you’re positive you don’t want a bird?”
Gwen rolled her eyes and sat back up. “No, Dell! I already told you. I like birds, but they are too delicate for me. I want my palisman to be fierce. Tough. Powerful!”
Her eyes slid to Toast, who was busy preening on Dell’s shoulder.
“If only there was a bird like yours, but stronger. I wish I was an artist so I could show you what I mean!”
A sudden idea slammed into Dell’s brain like an airship crashing into a mountain. “Wait right there!” he shouted over his shoulder as he excitedly bolted across the yard. Toast and Gwen watched him go, exchanging glances as Dell disappeared into the tower.
“Is he always like this?” Gwen’s raised eyebrow seemed to ask.
“Yup,” Toast answered with a weary yet fond flutter of his golden wings.
As a breathless Dell flew into the kitchen, his mother looked up from a bubbling cauldron. “What’s wrong, Sprout?” she asked, cocking her head in concern. “It’s getting late. Has she decided yet? Do you need my help?”
“Mum! Can I borrow the book?” Dell gasped.
“What book?”
“The bird book!”
“Which bird book?”
Dell threw up his arms in exasperation. “You know exactly which bird book I mean, Mum! Please, I have a client waiting!”
His mother narrowed her eyes in thought as the potion in her cauldron started smoking and spitting sparks behind her back. “I trust you with it, but do you promise to be careful? It’s very old, and the pages are extremely delicate.”
“Yes! I’ll make sure Gwen is careful too,” Dell said as the potion turned bright purple and summoned a swarm of tentacles.
“Go ahead, then. And let me know when you’ve put it back in the vault so I know it was safely returned. Oh no, my potion!”
Dell pumped his fists in victory and took off for the living room. “Thanks, Mum! You’re the best!” he shouted as his mother started violently smacking the writhing heap of tentacles and foam with a noble heron palisman.
“I’ve got it!” Dell announced a moment later, sprinting back out of the tower. “Here, Gwen! This might be the solution to your problem!”
“A book?” Gwen asked skeptically as Dell gently placed it in her hands.
“Not just any book,” he said in a way he hoped was somewhat mysterious. “Go ahead. Check it out! But be careful, it’s old and delicate.”
Gwen started flipping through the book while Dell looked on, eagerly watching her face for a reaction. “Where did this book come from? Who drew these pictures?” she asked curiously. “These are the oddest birds I’ve ever seen.”
“Clawthorne legends say one of our ancestors explored a strange place, and she documented the birds she saw there,” Dell said. “We don’t know exactly where she went, or what else she did on those trips. Those details were left out of the stories. But what’s truly strange? It almost seems like those details were left out on purpose. Like my family’s hiding some sort of big secret.”
“How mysterious!” Gwen said with wide eyes.
Dell shrugged. “Weird, right?”
“I wonder if she went to the Human Realm,” Gwen mused, resting her chin on her fist. “You know, my great-grandmother used to tell me stories about humans. She lived on Lake Lacuna, and was always fascinated by the human trash that washed up in her yard. She said there used to be a human living in Bonesborough, but he vanished one day. According to her, he donated his diary or journal or something to the library. She always wanted to read it, but it was locked away in the Forbidden Stacks.”
The teenagers sat in silence for a long moment, completely lost in thought.
Gwen flipped to the first page of the sketchbook, which featured a faded watercolor of a crested red bird. “Oh, look, a signature! Was your mysterious ancestor’s name perhaps Evelyn?”
“Yes. Funny, her name ends in a ‘lyn,’ just like yours!” Dell said as Gwen resumed browsing the book. “I’ve always liked that name. The e at the beginning combined with the lyn ending is really pleasing to say! And-”
Gwen interrupted him with a loud gasp. “Hold that thought, what the heck is this creature?” she asked, pointing at an image of a proud bird with a thick beak and massive talons. “I’ve never seen a bird like this before in my entire life!”
“A red-tailed hawk,” Dell read from over her shoulder. “Soars high in the sky, and swoops down to capture its prey with its wicked talons.”
“I am in complete love,” Gwen whispered. “This is it. This is my palisman.”
“Wait, really? You’re sure?” Dell asked.
“Yes, I’m sure! Can we make them as big as they are in the book?”
Dell grinned teasingly. “Yes, but a palisman that big will be really heavy in staff form. Will you be able to carry it?”
Gwen snorted and flexed her arm. “Will I be able to carry it…do I look like some sort of weakling?”
Dell’s eyes shot to her thick bicep, and he flared bright red. “Ok, then!” he said weakly. “In that case, let’s get to work...”