Page 6 of Search for the Lost

For a few moments, Crispin stood there, gnawing on his lip. Then he nodded as if he’d reached a decision. “Fine. My original proposal stands: we’re going to see the Oracle. Only now, in addition to assistance in finding Mother, we’ll ask for help with our own, er, predicament.”

Since Leo didn’t have any alternative ideas, he didn’t argue. “Fine. I guess we’re off to see the Oracle.” He hummed the opening line of “We’re Off to See the Wizard”—and although Aspin didn’t get the reference, the glimmer in Crispin’s eye said that he did. It turned out that, while Leo usually couldn’t carry a tune to save his life, in this body he could hum perfectly on key. He had the feeling he’d be able to sing beautifully too. Another thing to explore later. For now, he stood, started looking for his shoes, and remembered he needed Crispin’s instead. He found them neatly placed on the little shoe rack right near the door. Huh. Maybe storing things where they belonged made some sense.

Crispin pointed at the Thing. “Aspin, return that Thing to the bag, please. We’ll ask the Oracle to identify it.”

Aspin didn’t seem enthusiastic about touching it, but he obeyed and then angled the bag toward his brother. “Here you go.”

“Oh, you can carry it.”

“But you’re going to the Oracle and I’m⁠—”

“Coming along with.” Crispin put his now slightly pudgy hands on his waist, fingers balled up into fists. “You know, Leo and I were having a perfectly pleasant morning until you joined us. Now you get to help us sort things out.”

Aspin grumbled something under his breath and then slung the bag over his shoulder. He looked like a grouchy teenager being forced to go to school. Well, if teenagers wore chartreuse doublets embroidered with pearls, marigold tights, and whatever those odd puffy shorts were called.

Crispin paused to fill one of his jeans pockets—Leo’s jeans pocket—with the acorns he kept in a jar. Minkis might be unhappy to discover his stash depleted, but the Oracle would be pleased to receive it.

3

Crispin

“So what are you going to say again?” Crispin was trying to keep Leo on track, which was usually difficult, but today was proving to be exceptionally so, because his own attention kept wandering, and look what a lovely day it was outside, and they were almost out of crumpets, and he would bet that Mrs. Turtlerump had just made a fresh batch and… what in the fells of Hargsmarsh is wrong with me?

“…hold my head up high and say Crispy things like ‘isn’t this all nice and orderly’ and ‘look at my wonderful Perfecality Score’ and ‘Leo, why is this drawer open again?’”

Crispin blinked. He’d apparently missed the entire first half of Leo’s reply. Is that how I really sound? He pinched himself. Eyes on the prize, Crispin. “You’re trying too hard⁠—”

Leo slapped his own cheek, well, really Crispin’s cheek, and nodded. “I know, right? And it feels really weird. But kinda right, too. You know?” He rubbed the tip of his left ear between his finger and his thumb and moaned a little.

Crispin frowned. What’s that all about? There was that time that Leo had licked his ears, and he’d kinda gone wild⁠—

He pinched the space between his thumb and finger to distract himself from distracting himself. There. That worked nicely. “Just… keep your answers short. That way you’ll have less of a chance of blowing your cover.”

“But how are you guys going to explain Leo…” Aspin looked at Crispin in Leo’s body and frowned. “I mean, Elly being there? Do you two always go to work together?”

Ouch. Sore subject. Over the last few weeks, Leo had been perfectly content to laze around the house while Crispin went to work, and it was really starting to get under Crispin’s skin that his partner seemed to have no drive and no work ethic and was perfectly happy being a househusband, and did he even want a househusband, when he was perfectly capable of taking care of⁠—

Pinch.

“Fun being me, isn’t it?” His own face was grinning back at him so widely that he was afraid Leo would break it.

“Not the word I would have chosen.” More like excruciating. He closed his eyes and tried to compose himself, which proved harder than he thought it would be because as soon as he did, a carriage-load of new thoughts arrived like chattering baby ferykens, and didn’t that bring back memories that he’d rather not relive, chatting with Morris Mucklin while preparing to become dinner⁠—

Pinch.

Before his Leo brain could hijack his thoughts again, he got up and headed for the bedroom, a sectioned-off part of the tree with a curved back wall of beautiful red bark. “I’ll pack a couple of bags for us.” He was proud of himself for stopping only four times along the way.

Once to eat the aforementioned Oreo crumpet.

Once to go back for the rest of the rizzberry crumpet that Minkis had left.

Once to lean over and kiss Crispin-Leo, which made him just as fluttery as the other way around but was also kind of weird—kissing himself—but was also… strangely tantalizing?

And once more to look out the window at a bright yellow bird that had just fluttered⁠—

Pinch.

At last he made it to the bedroom and pulled out the matching set of duffel bags he’d raided from the Royal Closet back home. They folded up flat, even after you put everything inside of them, and then could be carried inside small REI backpacks they had picked up on their last trip to Sacramento to get the monster couch. Leo had taken one look at them and said “Tardis?” Which made no sense, since Tardis was the capital city of Therrin, where he’d once taken a very pleasant vacation with Qyl before they’d broken up⁠—