Home From The Sea: The Elemental Masters, Book Seven Read Online Free Page B

eye,” his friend said with a laugh, and pulled him on.
    “Memsa’b!” cried the smaller young woman in a happy voice, as the two neared their goal, oblivious of the attention they were all getting. “I’m so glad to see you at last!”
    All three of them finally converged, and the small one looked a little confused for a moment, as if she wasn’t certain what to do next—it was clearly impossible to give a proper embrace to the woman she’d addressed, what with her arms full of hatbox, but she looked equally reluctant to put it down.
    The woman addressed as Memsa’b laughed and put an end to her confusion. “Come along, you two. Sahib is seeing to yourthings; he brought the cart from the warehouse. Lord A lent me his carriage to get you. We can have a proper hug and greetings when you can put the rascals down.”
    One of the boxes uttered an indignant
quork
; the other whistled, as if to say “We’re no rascals!” All three women laughed, and the two young ones followed in the capable footsteps of the elder. Even though the dock was crowded, people seemed to clear away from their path with willingness rather than resentment—perhaps because of the repeated smiles and thanks the three graced everyone with.
    There was, in fact, a fine city carriage of the old sort, deep black with brass trim, waiting for them, pulled up alongside a few hansoms and more of the automotive cabs. It boasted a dignified coachman and a crest on the doors. The discerning and knowledgeable would have identified it as that of Lord Alderscroft, Member of the House of Lords, and reputably a confidant of the Prime Minister on certain mysterious affairs.
    The coachman hopped down promptly, there being no footman, and handed in Memsa’b first. He then took the taller girl’s hatbox with great care.
    “’Allo Neville,” he said to the box. “’Ow are you, old son? Africar agree with you?”
    “Qoark!”
the box said with enthusiasm. Then, in a jovial and exceptionally human voice,
“I’m hooooooome!”
    The coachman laughed with delight. “Blimey! Neville, you’re talkin’ at last!”
    “I can talk; can you fly?”
said the other box, in a higher, female voice. Both boxes gave credible imitations of the young ladies’ laughs.
    “He started chattering away as soon as we reached Sarah’s parents’ station,” said the taller girl, after seating herself, taking her talking hatbox from the coachman. “It was as if he’d been saving it up until then. I don’t know why it took him so long.”
    “If ’e’s anything like my youngest, Miss Nan,” the coachman replied, taking the second box and helping the shorter girl up into the carriage, “It’s ’cause he was able to make hisself understood to youjust fine without chatterin’, but couldn’t t’anyone else. That was fine when you was at the school, but Africar is when ’e needed other folks t’understand ’im. So that’s when ’e started talkin’.”
    “Clever Sam!”
said the second box, eliciting more laughter. The box went to its owner, as Sam grinned his approval.
    The coachman closed the door, making sure no hems were hanging out inside, and hopped back up on the box. He chirruped to the horses, and they were off.
    Once inside the plush interior of the coach, the lids came off the boxes, and out popped a handsome raven and an equally handsome African Grey parrot. Both jumped to the knees of their respective owners and shook their feathers out vigorously, as the boxes went down to the floorboards. The raven cocked a bright black eye at Memsa’b.
    “Give us a kiss,” he demanded.
    “You outrageous flirt, Neville,” Memsa’b replied with a chuckle. “I believe I shall.” She held out her arm, fearlessly. The raven hopped up onto it; she kissed the top of his head, then began scratching the back of his neck. He closed his eyes in bliss and laid his chin along her shoulder, the better to enjoy the caresses.
    “Cold,” complained the Grey parrot, and