something she'd suspected had just been confirmed. "Where is this book now?"
"Don't tell her, you idiot!" screeched the parrot.
Olefat struggled to keep his mouth closed, squeezing his lips shut with his fingers. When he tried to speak anyway, his words were indistinguishable. Grassina sighed and reached out to pinch his nose so that he was forced to breathe through his mouth. The old man held out as long as he could, but when his face started to turn blue, he let go of his lips, gasped once and blurted out, "It's in the chest under the table!" "Aagh!" shrieked the parrot. "Now you've done it, you old fool!" Olefat began to weep enormous tears. When Grassina started toward the table, the parrot let out an earsplltting screech and flew at her in a flurry of beak and claws. I sensed movement beside me, and a furry body catapulted through the window. Although I hadn't known that Haywood had joined us, he seemed to know exactly what was going on. In a flash, he tackled the bird and had it pinned to the floor. The bird beat its wings in his face and tried to bite him, but I guess the otter was used to uncooperative food, for he knew how to hold it without getting hurt.
"Haywood, my darling, be careful!" Grassina said.
"I'm fine, my sweet," the otter assured her before turning back to the bird. Pressing down on the thrashing parrot, he said, "If you don't stop that right now, I'll rip off your beak and stuff it down your scruffy little throat."
The parrot's beak closed with a snap, and it jerked its wings to its sides. "You wouldn't dare," said the parrot.
Haywood smiled grimly at the bird. "Try me."
"What's going on out there?" demanded a memory. "Who is that?"
"I heard my daughter Grassina," said my grandmother's voice. "I'd recognize the ungrateful wretch's voice anywhere."
My aunt's Up curled as if she'd tasted something foul. "Hello, Mother. If you don't mind, I'm a little busy now."
"What difference would it make if I did mind? My feelings never mattered to you before. But don't worry. I'll shut up and let you go about your important business, Lady High and Mighty!"
Ignoring the other memories who continued to mutter among themselves, my aunt raised the lid of the trunk and reached inside. When she sat back, she held a small brown volume in her hand. "Is this the book?" she asked, holding it up for Olefat to see.
The old man nodded, sniffling into his sleeve. His whole body seemed to slump.
"Good," she said, tucking the book into her pouch. "Then you won't be needing it anymore."
"In a way I'm glad someone showed up," said Olefat, wiping the tears from his cheeks. "Those old witches' memories were driving me crazy. You never met a nastier bunch of women. When I think about all the effort I put into this without getting much real information... They could gossip all right, and they loved to brag, but getting them to describe their actual spells—"
"Gossip?" shrilled a memory. "Did you hear that, ladies? The old geezer called us gossips! Just wait till we get our hands on you, you old—"
"You don't have hands!" Olefat said, smiling through his tears.
Grassina sighed and shook her head. "How do I return the memories to their owners?"
"Break the bottles," Olefat answered, gasping when he realized what he'd said. "But please, if you have any decency in you, let me go first. Those old bats would love to tear me apart!"
"After what you've done, that might be exactly what you deserve."
With an anguished groan, the old man fell to his knees and raised clasped hands to my aunt. "Please, I beg you, let me go!"
"Get up, old man, and get out of here. But you'd better hurry because I'm about to break every bottle in the room. These are all the bottles, aren't they?"
"Every one is on that shelf!"
Grassina reached toward a bottle. "Are you still here?" she asked Olefat.
"No! No, wait!" The old man moved faster than I thought possible. "Come along, Metoo," he said, snatching the parrot from Haywood. With the bird
"Don't tell her, you idiot!" screeched the parrot.
Olefat struggled to keep his mouth closed, squeezing his lips shut with his fingers. When he tried to speak anyway, his words were indistinguishable. Grassina sighed and reached out to pinch his nose so that he was forced to breathe through his mouth. The old man held out as long as he could, but when his face started to turn blue, he let go of his lips, gasped once and blurted out, "It's in the chest under the table!" "Aagh!" shrieked the parrot. "Now you've done it, you old fool!" Olefat began to weep enormous tears. When Grassina started toward the table, the parrot let out an earsplltting screech and flew at her in a flurry of beak and claws. I sensed movement beside me, and a furry body catapulted through the window. Although I hadn't known that Haywood had joined us, he seemed to know exactly what was going on. In a flash, he tackled the bird and had it pinned to the floor. The bird beat its wings in his face and tried to bite him, but I guess the otter was used to uncooperative food, for he knew how to hold it without getting hurt.
"Haywood, my darling, be careful!" Grassina said.
"I'm fine, my sweet," the otter assured her before turning back to the bird. Pressing down on the thrashing parrot, he said, "If you don't stop that right now, I'll rip off your beak and stuff it down your scruffy little throat."
The parrot's beak closed with a snap, and it jerked its wings to its sides. "You wouldn't dare," said the parrot.
Haywood smiled grimly at the bird. "Try me."
"What's going on out there?" demanded a memory. "Who is that?"
"I heard my daughter Grassina," said my grandmother's voice. "I'd recognize the ungrateful wretch's voice anywhere."
My aunt's Up curled as if she'd tasted something foul. "Hello, Mother. If you don't mind, I'm a little busy now."
"What difference would it make if I did mind? My feelings never mattered to you before. But don't worry. I'll shut up and let you go about your important business, Lady High and Mighty!"
Ignoring the other memories who continued to mutter among themselves, my aunt raised the lid of the trunk and reached inside. When she sat back, she held a small brown volume in her hand. "Is this the book?" she asked, holding it up for Olefat to see.
The old man nodded, sniffling into his sleeve. His whole body seemed to slump.
"Good," she said, tucking the book into her pouch. "Then you won't be needing it anymore."
"In a way I'm glad someone showed up," said Olefat, wiping the tears from his cheeks. "Those old witches' memories were driving me crazy. You never met a nastier bunch of women. When I think about all the effort I put into this without getting much real information... They could gossip all right, and they loved to brag, but getting them to describe their actual spells—"
"Gossip?" shrilled a memory. "Did you hear that, ladies? The old geezer called us gossips! Just wait till we get our hands on you, you old—"
"You don't have hands!" Olefat said, smiling through his tears.
Grassina sighed and shook her head. "How do I return the memories to their owners?"
"Break the bottles," Olefat answered, gasping when he realized what he'd said. "But please, if you have any decency in you, let me go first. Those old bats would love to tear me apart!"
"After what you've done, that might be exactly what you deserve."
With an anguished groan, the old man fell to his knees and raised clasped hands to my aunt. "Please, I beg you, let me go!"
"Get up, old man, and get out of here. But you'd better hurry because I'm about to break every bottle in the room. These are all the bottles, aren't they?"
"Every one is on that shelf!"
Grassina reached toward a bottle. "Are you still here?" she asked Olefat.
"No! No, wait!" The old man moved faster than I thought possible. "Come along, Metoo," he said, snatching the parrot from Haywood. With the bird
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