Rosa's story (or part of it)

"Please, please," the woman begged. "Madam, I can't take care of him! I am but a poor..."
"Oh, don't give me that," Spoctoplat snapped. "I've seen your house. You live like a rich woman! Your husband dotes upon you and brings you treasures from every corner of the earth!"
"You must be mistaken. My husband was a milkman, barely making enough coin to bring us a meal every night. But he was murdered by a band of wild men!" At this, the woman's eyes brimmed with tears.
"Wild men?" the wisewoman asked sharply.
"Yes, wild men! I saw them. They had the most horrible eyes-" She wiped a tear away with the corner of her dishtowel.
"Eyes! What were they like?" Spoctoplat demanded. I could tell she was only waiting for confirmation of an answer she already knew.
"T-th-their eyes w-were en... entire... entirely b-b-b-" She was crying too hard to finish by now.

"Entirely WHAT?"
"E-Entirely black!" The woman dissolved into racking sobs, burying her face in the dishtowel. She collapsed onto a bench and sat there, weeping.
"Oh, Goddess." Spoctoplat put a hand to her head. "They're attacking? How could we have predicted..."
"You didn't know?" The wisewoman jumped as I spoke. I couldn't fathom why she hadn't heard us before, when we were standing right behind her. "They just came after us. Or rather, they came after her," I said, jabbing a finger at the still-unconscious White Eye. "And one of us decided to step in to save her."
Simon blushed. "You weren't exactly reluctant to drive those nuts back," he said defensively.
"Well, they were swarming up Midnight's flanks, and you weren't exactly taking action except to try to swing her into the saddle like the star of some kind of cowboy romance movie. Ever thought it works better when you're riding a mustang than an Oldenburg?"
"Will you two stop bickering? This is important." Spoctoplat's combination of irritation and shock was making her crone's disguise waver. Eight beady black eyes flashed at us, which was unnerving for more than one reason.
"Control, Spocky. I can see your face," Simon told her under his breath. She inhaled and regained her composure. The wrinkled image of an old woman hid her true form once more.
"Thank you. But would you stop calling me by that infernal nickname? Ah well, I'll argue about that later. There are important matters at hand! The Blackeyes are attacking?"
"How could you not have known?" I was glad for the woman's grief. She was blubbering loudly enough not to notice our hushed conversation. "They're all over the place. They've been attacking since you and the Goddess brought them here, and they did it when they were still in our world! Simon knew, why didn't you?"
"Do you think I know everything? I'm not the Goddess!"
"Close enough, you come from the Heavens and you're her right-hand octopus." She glowered. Spoctoplat couldn't stand being called by part of what she was. "I mean, I don't expect you to know everything, but you ought to know more than a random guy you kidnapped from another dimension. I thought you were his informant!"
Simon grabbed my shoulder and held it hard. "Rosa, stop it," he hissed.
"What, what are you hiding?" I asked dismissively, shaking him off.
"More than you know." He turned away.
"I was kidding!"
"Well, it doesn't matter, anyway. I suppose someday, you'll have to find out." He sighed. "Can we drop it?"
"Please do. I think our weepy widow is ready to talk again." Spoctoplat turned to the woman, a look of intense concentration on her pseudo-face. "So, what happened to you when your husband died?"
The widow looked up. "He left what little he had to his brother, even his cows. Never once thought of me in his will..." She realized she was starting to grumble and trailed off. "I began taking in laundry to scrape together a living. I had a child then, and I had to feed him. But the village already has another washerwoman! I get so little business. If people come to me, it's only out of pity."
"What happened to your child?" Spoctoplat was getting too curious. I prepared to step in, but the lady went on.
"I couldn't feed him. I couldn't even feed myself. I had to sell him into slavery!" She started sobbing again. "I still remember his face, when they took him to the mines. There was such a pleading look in his eyes, his beautiful hazel eyes- Oh, my baby!" She was wailing uncontrollably now. "Oh, Brin- Brinny, I'm coming! I'm coming! Wait for me, Brinny!"
It was slightly disturbing, and more than a little sad. The woman was obviously chronically insane. I leaned from the saddle, balancing with one hand on Spoctoplat's shoulder. "Spoctoplat, we can't leave any kid with this woman. Look at her, she's nuts! Not to mention dirt-poor."
The wisewoman nodded. "But now I have to find someone else to take care of him. How can I leave a two-year-old to fend for himself? Look at the little thing."
For the first time, I looked at the toddler balanced on Spoctoplat's hip. He was sleeping peacefully, long brown eyelashes brushing against his face. His hair, also brown, was soft and wavy. He had perfect skin, slightly dark, and angelic features. He looked to be partly Hispanic and partly white.
"This is Alejandro Martinez, also known as Alex. Son of Eduardo Martinez, an illegal immigrant from Mexico, and Catelynn Maxwell, a white American citizen descended from Norwegian ancestors, among others."
"What is he?"
"What do you mean, what is he? He's human, if that's what you want to know."
"You know what I mean, what are his eyes? You obviously brought him here for a reason. Or, should I say, The Reason."
Spoctoplat rolled the eyes of her facade. "He's a Seeing One, like you. Got it from his mom."
"So why didn't you bring her? Couldn't she have been the one to take care of him?"
"She died in a car accident six months ago," the wisewoman said matter-of-factly.
"Oh."
"Yeah. It's probably killing poor Mr. Martinez, having everyone taken away from him. But we need all of you here. Some have sacrificed more. We can't afford to pay attention to trivial matters such as loss when there's great work to be done."
"You wouldn't say that if the loss was your own," Simon muttered. It was the first he'd spoken in a while.
"Oh, yes I would," she snapped.
Simon looked up, probably rolling his eyes beneath the mask. "That's what you think. You've never lost anything."
"Of course I have. I just don't feel it."
"Right," he scoffed sarcastically. "If that's true, it's only because you're a platypus."
Spoctoplat growled. "Only a third of me, and you couldn't see most of it even if I took this off." She gestured to her disguise. I was surprised that she feigned calm in the face of one of her biggest pet peeves.
"As if I don't know that. I've seen you when you're not pretending." I shuddered at the thought, but said nothing, not wanting to anger the wisewoman.
"Well, if you know it, how come you talk like you don't?" she shot back.
I stepped in. "Who's bickering now?" I asked. "I believe we all have business to attend to."
"Right," Spoctoplat replied. "I've got to find a home for this little tyke-"
"That's done. I'll take him."

Both Spoctoplat and Simon gaped at me. "You?" the wisewoman asked.

"Yes..." I looked down my nose at her, which was easy enough from Moondance's back, as if she had stated the completely obvious.

"Rosa, we can't take a two-year-old with us. We have things to do! He couldn't handle sleeping out with us. And how would he ride?"

"That's easy enough. I take an extra blanket for him. At night, I wrap him in it, then he sleeps with me, under my blanket. He stays warm. To carry him, I make a pack that can hold him and be strapped to my back. They've got plenty in Reality. Moondance can handle the extra weight."

"She won't like it," Spoctoplat retorted.

"Oh, Moony's more special than you know," Simon told her, with what might have been a wink in my direction. For a wisewoman, Spoctoplat didn't seem to know much of anything. I still couldn't believe she had just found out about the Blackeyes' attacks. Now he was telling me she had no clue as to Moondance's origins? I would have to ask him later about where he was really getting his information. He'd obviously lied about hearing everything from Spoctoplat.

"Whatever you say. But I'll make the pack and the blanket. It would take you too long."

"This would be best done elsewhere, Spocky," Simon said in a hushed voice. I expected her to argue, but instead she nodded and started walking away from the village. A cold wave of realization washed over me.

"Oh, Goddess," I whispered to Simon. "Does this mean she's going to... show herself?"

"She can't spin while she's in disguise, Rosa."

I made an indistinguishable noise of disgust. This was not going to be a pretty sight. "Well," I said hesitantly, "I suppose I'll have to see it sometime."

"That's the idea." He clicked to Midnight, who started to walk off after Spoctoplat. I dug my heels into Moondance's sides and followed behind. After we had gone a few hundred yards, the wisewoman disappeared into a redwood circle with trees set closely enough together to hide anything abnormal that might happen inside. Simon and I followed her inside.

"Here, take the babe." She handed Alex to me. I lifted him so that he was straddling Moondance's back in front of me, amazed to find that he was still asleep. I liked the feeling of his tiny body leaning on mine. Unfortunately, it was negated when I saw the legs of Spoctoplat's crone disguise start to turn purplish. They split off, one by one, until there were eight of them in all. Spreading out, the huge tentacles started to curl around things, picking up dirt and redwood litter with their suction cups. I began to feel just a bit sick.

Then the crone's head started to shrink back into her body. Her torso rounded and started to sprout brown fuzz. The eight black eyes I had seen before appeared again, this time staying on what was, more or less, a giant tarantula's head with octopus tentacles attatched. When I thought it couldn't get much worse, a platypus bill appeared under her eyes. The world spun dizzyingly before my eyes. I swayed and almost fell from Moondance's back. Simon put a hand on my shoulder to steady me. I reached up and grabbed it, not because I much needed it, but because I knew I'd enjoy a double dose of the adrenaline-filled, tingling feeling I got whenever our hands brushed. I got it, but only for a second. He dropped his hand again when he realized I was okay.

Spoctoplat somehow managed to speak human words from her platypus bill. "Well! That felt good! Now, for some spinning."

The White-Eyed girl chose that moment to wake up.