"Where is Didelphis now?"

I asked Chloe.

"Last I heard," the duck replied, "she was locked in jail with Oonagh."

"What!?" I blurted.  "In the same cell?"

"Tulgeyside only has one jail," Chloe explained.  "With one cell in it.  There isn't a lot of crime, and most of what there is can be punished with a day in the stocks."

"Why not put Didelphis in the stocks then?"

"She'd scream," Chloe answered without hesitation.  "Plus she's too small to fit in the holes."

"Okay, but why lock them up together??  If they truly believe Oonagh bewitched Didelphis with black magick, then why in Fuma's creation did the town not separate them??"

"Where else could they put her?" Chloe replied.  "Who wants to foster a shrill, obnoxious child who screeches constantly and is likely to return your hospitality by accusing you of witchcraft?  No one really liked Didelphis before she was transformed, and now she's even worse.  She's louder, with more stamina, and she can run faster."

"She got what she wanted," I objected.  "She got Oonagh locked up, but you say she was still screeching?  What for?"

"She wanted things.  She demanded that the moment Oonagh was executed, all of the baking awards should be given to her since Oonagh had cheated by using witchcraft and she, Didelphis, was the one who truly deserved them.  She also demanded to be given Oonagh's head as a trophy.  She demanded apologies from all the baking judges that unfairly favored Oonagh over her.  She demanded that lutes be outlawed and all songs less than 70 years old should be banned.  She demanded that all the mels get haircuts and the femmes wear ankle-length skirts.  The rabbits backed her up on those last two.  There's more.  The list goes on and on."

"Did Oonagh do or say anything in her defense?"

"Yes.  Oonagh threatened to put Didelphis in timeout for a whole five minutes."

"Wow," I scoffed ironically.  "Quite the disciplinarian.  Well, at least we know where Didelphis is.  The fact that no one particularly likes or cares about her could work to our advantage.  The part that troubles me the most is the fact that this whole clown show sounds like it's just being done to pacify the rabbits of Bunkirk."

Suddenly, Burnside burst through the bushes into the circle.

"Got yer orders from the Ixies," she breathed excitedly, brandishing a large knife in each hand.  "Who do ya need killed??  I'm ready to go buck wild on this here entire county!  You give the word, an ever'body ever'where gonna find their insides on their outside right quick!"

"Save that for the worst case scenario," I advised.

"Is Miss Burnside all right?" Rebecca whispered.  "I think she's foaming at the mouth."

"She's just excited at the chance to use her special talents," I whispered back.  "They don't call her the Raccoon Monster for nothing."

"All right now," I called, holding up my hand for silence.  "Everyone calm down.  Burnside is to stay here in case any of the mob manage to come into the forest.  If they make it this far, it means they're tough enough to be dangerous.  Your mission may change if the situation changes, but right now I need a terrifyingly lethal personal bodyguard.  Now, everyone keep quiet for a moment.  I need to think of a plan."

I rubbed my face and began to ponder.  What would Irenaeus do?  Obviously, he'd ride into town astride Bucephalus, hacking and hewing right and left with his deadly sword.  Burnside would love that, but unfortunately I was not cut out for such heroics - and besides, I couldn't leave this stone circle.

If I could scry the jail, I could get Oonagh out of there ... but this idea had problems as well.  Scrying would require me to go through the Gate, and I still wasn't confident about managing the time slips.  I could keep the discrepancy down to a minute or two, MAYBE, but was it worth the risk?  I decided it was not, because I recalled that the rabbits had been able to prevent me from scrying beyond the woods.  Supposedly they did it by praying (of which I was highly skeptical) and there was no reason to assume that they had lowered the barrier, which meant that using the scry tower would likely be a waste of time.

Arrgh, I needed to come up with a plan!  I had to fix this!  This whole mess was my fault, because I thought it would be a laugh to turn this old hag into a child and have her adopted by her mortal enemy!  I must have been insane to think ... wait ... could the solution be as simple as turning Didelphis back into a crone?  I could undo the transmogrification from here, without having to see Didelphis or even know where she was.

But even if she turned back into an old crone, how would that solve this predicament?  There would have to be a way to incriminate Didelphis and blackmail her into silence, otherwise she could still blame the whole thing on Oonagh.  On further reflection, blackmail would require establishing contact, proving that we had the incriminating evidence, and making our threats.  I didn't have time.  The possum would have to be framed.  Could we plant evidence at her shack to imply that she had bewitched herself with an evil pie, in a desperate attempt to discredit her rival?  Would it be possible to do such a thing without violating Thorwald's Edict regarding elves and the truth?

Suddenly Ash's little book began to feel hot in my Elfintory.

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