Tosho is Dead

by Opal Edgar

  “You made it?”

  Her body slowly disappeared through the painting’s murky surface. Her right side was gone. I took her hand quickly.

  “Not the portal: Sir Alpheus did. I only created the world.”

  Her face disappeared, so I couldn’t ask any more questions. She took the last step into the painting and was gone. The viscous watercolour reached my hand and kept going up my arm. I walked behind Elise and held my breath as my face touched the ivy house. This felt miserable. The paint was freezing and intensified the disgusting feeling of my drenched suit sticking to my skin. This was pneumonia given a tactile sensation.

  “Welcome home!” Elise exclaimed on the other side.

  Soft sunlight warmed my skin. The cottage house from the painting looked back at me. Except it wasn’t a two dimensional watercolour anymore, but a real place. Ivy ran wildly over its walls, so tightly we couldn’t see the colour it had originally been. Was that safe for the mortar? Dense knots of leaves ran down to the ground and over the trees and everywhere round the cottage. You had to walk a little distance before the ivy stopped and the garden breathed. The grass was a lovely tender green, poked by wildflowers and rows of strawberries. Birds and cicadas chirped.

  I looked up to see what kind of birds they were and was struck. From all the trees hung complicated ladder rope paths. A network of treehouses and patios and bridges zigzagged up there. It looked like any kid’s dream treehouse village, plucked directly out from their heads.

  “This is amazing!” I exclaimed. Then the cottage’s front door crashed open.

  A mountain of muscle with a crazy Visigoth helmet hiding his face in a metal balaclava charged at us. His Roman skirt flapped in the wind and his leather strapped sandals imprinted the ivy as surely as a tractor. Was this really happening? Was this another enemy wanting me reincarnated? He was going to trample Elise!

  Chapter 8

  Welcome Home, or Not

  I dived in Elise’s direction, grabbed her and swirled us out of the way of the centurion. He whooshed past, hitting me in the arm with the heavy square plaque he wore round his neck. It trailed in his wake: dangerous. And that wasn’t the only thing. He had the biggest double edged axe I’d ever seen. One-handed, I tucked Elise behind me and confronted the guy. Even his eyes were invisible, hidden behind a tight beehive pattern through which I guessed only he could see. Was this another type of mask person?

  “Let’s make a deal,” I said. “I’ll come with you peacefully, but leave the girl alone.”

  He didn’t answer and took a step forwards. Behind me Elise craned her neck to see. I forced the both of us backwards.

  “Sir Tosho—” Elise started poking at my back.

  I shook my head, not taking my eyes off the helmeted man. No way was I putting her in danger, again.

  “What the hell is it that you power thieves want with me anyway?” I said.

  He didn’t answer, but threw his hand over his shoulder: grabbing for the axe. I swore.

  “Run, Elise!” I said. “Just get out of here!”

  His arm swung back round, gripping ... the plaque dangling at his neck. Was that a magical object? How could I protect us from it if I didn’t know how it worked? It looked like tarnished silver, or a slate. He held it up with both hands, and I had the sick feeling something dreadful was going to pour out of it. I braced myself. In brilliant white on the plaque, printed in neat alphabet, appeared the words: “Welcome home!”

  Elise hid her face in my itchy brown suit, right between my shoulder blades, muffling a frantic giggle.

  “Sir Alpheus is not a mask! ’Tis just that he’s shy and mute,” she said.

  I turned back to the centurion.

  “Alpheus?” I tried.

  This thing with the horned helmet and the axe was a painter? He held onto his blackboard and this time the letters said: “Friend?”

  “Sure,” I said. “Just, are there many more of you in the house? Because next time I’d kind of like a warning.”

  “Let’s go meet them,” Elise said.

  We went up the path to the cottage. I couldn’t help but throw uneasy glances towards Alpheus.

  “Why the helmet? Is it a prank? Did I pass the test? Like, I didn’t pee my pants?” I checked after I said it. Just to make sure.

  He shook his head and retreated as if I’d offended him. Inside the house was as green as out of it. The walls were covered with a tight layer of morning glory vines and the floor was a bed of moss. In the way of furniture it looked pretty comfy: armchairs scattered randomly about, also dressed in soft moss, a few loaded bookshelves and a huge staircase.

  One of the armchairs facing a window lifted off the ground. It hovered towards us and spun round to display the occupant. At first, I only saw the newspaper. Then the paper lowered. Behind it was a 15-year-old wearing tiny round sunglasses, under which started a large scar cutting through his cheek and running down to his chin. It left a milky mark on his rich chocolate skin. His black hair was long, curly and tied in a ponytail with a ribbon. This was the type of hairdo you only saw in paintings that dated back at least two centuries. He folded the paper over his lap as the chair gently settled down. He wore a lace collar and a waistcoat matching Elise’s dress. They obviously belonged to the same era, whenever that was.

  “A stray,” the boy said. “When will you learn, Miss Pieterson, to leave wild animals where you find them?”

  “You must be confusing me with something else. I get that a lot,” I said, forcing my face into a smile. “I’m Tosho.”

  “Enchanted, I’m sure,” he said. But he didn’t look enchanted at all as he got up and bowed. “I’m Baas, no family name. Please state your views on whether slaves deserve them or not.”

  I gaped. Elise moved between the two of us.

  “Don’t mind him,” she said to me. “Sir Baas should be in bed, ’tis the lack of sleep that always has a negative effect on his nerves.”

  “She means he gets grouchy,” a child’s voice cut in. “Though, truthfully, day or night I’ve never seen a difference.”

  I turned round. There was no one but the four of us in the room, and no one paid any attention to it. I wasn’t sure if this was another intangible voice in my head, but I decided to play it safe and turned my attention back to Elise.

  “I thought the dead didn’t need sleep like living people did.”

  “Vampires do, during the day. May I ask if you are a blood donor or if you have an exemption card?” Baas said.

  I blinked at Baas, slowly realising what he was saying. He smiled a nasty flash of long teeth at me to dispel all doubt. They gleamed white and pointy in the sunlight. So this was a vampire, I was a zombie, behind me was a dead centurion and the girl at my side was … what the hell was she?

  “I don’t have a—” I panicked.

  “He’s kidding!” the child’s voice said. “Vampires only drink the blood of the living.”

  Baas smiled and this time it was genuine. Had he heard that? Was it real? I turned round just to make sure. There was still no one else in the room. Could I trust that voice, or was it a replacement of Merlin. Maybe it was the mask-woman’s revenge. I was forever stuck with unreliable commentators of a world I was already lost in! This was bad, this was very, very bad.

  “You’ll learn that each cast has its own rules that differentiate them from the generic undead,” Baas explained.

  Maybe what that child’s voice had said was the truth.

  “You mean generic people like me? You can say it straight you know,” I answered.

  “’Tis not generic to attract power thieves and a curse immediately upon entering the hereafter,” Elise cut in.

  “He what!” Baas exclaimed.

  The strength of whatever emotion he was feeling propelled him and his armchair a good metre up in the air. Alpheus the centurion held up his slate with the words: “Are we safe?”

  “Stop teasing, Sir Baas. Sir Alpheus, we will keep everyone safe, like always, and
, Miss Kemsit, please—” Elise started.

  “I want to help!” a little high-pitched voice interrupted.

  This time I knew I wasn’t crazy because we all turned our heads to the armchair behind me. It had colourful little flowers popping out of the cushions in star patterns, but no one was there. Was it the chair speaking? Was it an invisible girl? I frowned, until I saw a tiny face in the shadows under the seat. She winked. She looked as if she was eight years old. I lowered on my knees and elbows so we’d be about the same level.

  “Hey there,” I said. “I’m glad you’re a real person because voices in my head make me feel crazy. If I was small enough, I’d hide in there with you.”

  She smiled, and lots of bead sized rubies started to dance round her face. Alpheus pulled the armchair up and I jumped backwards, horror-struck. The tiny rubies blinked. They weren’t jewels at all, but the eyes of four fat cobras tangled in the girl’s hair and draped over her shoulders. She sat up, cross legged, and brushed dirt from her tunic. Like this, she looked older than I’d first thought, maybe 13.

  “’Tis the first time I’ve seen Miss Kemsit so curious about a person on a first encounter.”

  “You’re all shiny from Lil’Mon,” the girl said to me.

  “You know Lil’Mon?” I asked.

  “Sure,” she said, pulling a strand of her brown hair out of her mouth. “I was one of his priestesses when he was a living god, and all that. I’m more powerful than him now, so he’s not my god anymore, but I still like him. And he likes you. So … I like you!”

  So many likes in one sentence made my head spin, but I couldn’t help asking, “How d’you know he likes me?”

  One of her cobras moved up above her head and stretched his neck towards me. I scurried backwards, but another one was already undulating by my hand. I took a step away and fell into a chair. I sat back, but another cobra had slithered over the back of my knees and found itself caught between my calf and thigh. It hissed and snapped. I jumped up. The cobra tumbled to the floor and leaped at my face. I cringed.

  I was dead, they couldn’t hurt me, I repeated to myself again and again. They couldn’t hurt me, right?

  “They’re just going to help you see how I know Lil’Mon likes you. Just take Meg in your hands,” Kemsit said.

  “What?”

  Kemsit started explaining that her four snakes each had a name: Jo, Beth, Amy and Meg. It came from a book, but I wasn’t listening, I was too busy dodging the treacherous coils of the cobras. Alpheus stood immobile during the whole thing, Kemsit’s armchair still in his grasp, above his horned helmet.

  I jumped up into a chair, hoping against reason the snakes would stay down. But they kept coming, so I continued moving backwards. The room was big, maybe I could dodge them …

  “I can’t take it anymore,” Baas exclaimed, springing up.

  Without a second of hesitation he grabbed Jo, or Amy, I had no idea, and appeared in front of me. He must have moved, but my eyes hadn’t followed. In microseconds, Baas was centimetres from my face. Something heavy slipped over my shoulders. I turned my head towards the weight. A great red throat protected by gleaming fangs hissed at me. A long forked tongue tickled my nose. The coils of the beast tightened over my shirt collar and the snake skin came in direct contact with mine, right at the nape of my neck.

  The world broke into millions of threads. It was as if the wind had gained colour and shape. It coiled round people, wrapped them up like mummies and blew to the next person, circling round them. There was no way to describe it except like rainbow spider webs catching everyone and linking everyone. I forgot all about the cold smooth snake brushing against my neck, and admired the insane colour patterns formed by those mysterious cords. Round Elise was a real cyclone, flooding everyone in the room in green frothy thready torrents. Even I got a little of it: a thin thread tentatively lapped at my obnoxious brown suit.

  “What am I looking at?”

  “’Tis Miss Kemsit’s power,” Elise said. “She sees all the connections between people. With her snakes, she can give you an overview.”

  I turned to Kemsit, and sure enough I could see thick red rivers running between her and each of her awful cobras. But there were many more streams running out of and over her. There was Elise’s foam connecting them, and something blue and glittery. The blue thread curled round Kemsit and left in a line right through the wall. I was sure it continued well away from the house. Something about that stream of powdery cobalt felt familiar. Actually it was the same colour as the beetle tattoos over my knuckles. Wondering, I looked down at my hands and, sure enough, they were covered with glittery blue mist too: a thread of it twisted away from me in a stream and left through the wall in the same direction as her cobalt thread.

  “So do you believe me? Lil’Mon likes you, he left a little of himself with you,” Kemsit said.

  I nodded, amazed, and the snake fell off my shoulders and slithered back to her. The wind, the colours and the sparkles all disappeared, leaving me dizzy. I dropped down into an armchair. How could she take that all the time? It was exhausting. Little flashes of light danced on my retinas like when you press on your eyeballs.

  “That’s amazing what you can do. But if you can trace all links between people, sorry for asking, if I’m rude you can just hit me, but why can’t you help Elise find her mum?”

  Kemsit laughed. “She’s a mermaid, dumb-dumb! Don’t you know anything? Mermaids are not people: they’re water. You can’t trace water. All I get, if I try really hard, is the location of Poseidon.”

  “I’m new, sorry, and I’m sleepy,” I said. “That means I’m hungry. This place is so confusing.”

  “We have turnips and stuff in the garden,” Kemsit said.

  But Elise told me not to bother. Instead she took a book out, opened it, nodded and touched the moss floor with the tip of her shoe. No one but me was surprised when a tender sprout emerged at her foot. It stretched towards the light of the window before tilting back in an upright position.

  Baas was now sitting in the air, floating above the whole scene, not even pretending to need an armchair anymore. The sprout grew in jerks. It blew to the size of a balloon, and still the ground didn’t crack. Curling branches shot from its tip. Elise’s face was impassive in contained concentration. The branches flapped up, a broken umbrella in the wind.

  “Almost!” Kemsit encouraged.

  Baas peered over Elise’s shoulder at the book she held open. Then he looked at the weird plant in front of us:

  “I believe it would do wonders to give it a slight tilt to your right and weave the branches like so ...” He mimed some criss-cross patterns in the air.

  The parasol flapped under Elise’s unblinking stare, gaining a canopy as vines weaved themselves into a spiral round the armature. Her two friends kept commenting and I finally tiptoed over to see what was in the book. On the chosen page was the hand drawing of a café table. Elise was obviously trying to emulate it with her beanstalk. The flap finally adjusted until it was as straight and whole as a table top. She didn’t stop there.

  Tiny brambles worked their way through the weave. Outshoots stretched and sprouted buds. In seconds, the flowers bloomed in a spurt of sweet scent and then wilted. Before I blinked, the branches were loaded with juicy berries ripe for the picking.

  “How did you do that?” I marvelled.

  “’Tis my power. I grow things. Shaping them is what I have to refine, especially the small scale work.”

  I looked round us and suddenly understood why everything felt so strange. The entire house – the staircase, the cushions, the curtains and even the candle holders – had grown from the ground. Elise had literally made this whole place.

  “Alpheus helps me tremendously, he draws journals of all that I could possibly want to make,” she said.

  So that’s what Elise was doing in the shadow corridor, rooting amongst all that junk. She found interesting things and then got Alpheus to draw them. But her mind was going 100
kilometres per hour, and I had to hang on tight to follow, or risk losing my way.

  “’Tis important I properly introduce us before you decide whether you desire to trust us or not with your difficulties. Alpheus and Kemsit are the creators of the Children’s League. Their goal is to protect and help the ones who can’t protect themselves, and have no one else to turn to. I share their cause, though I’m only the builder.”

  Kemsit snickered. “Right, like Anubis is only a travelling guide.”

  “’Tis not generic builders who grow whole worlds out of a handful of tulip bulbs,” Baas said, imitating Elise down to her mannerisms.

  Elise laughed. I felt my heart beat faster in my chest. Real powerful drumming, pumping in my ribcage. Was it possible I shared so much with Elise? I know she was being humble, but for the first time I was proud of being a builder ... a builder just like her. And I wanted to help. I wanted to be part of her universe, part of all this. It was time for me to start doing some good. My tab was way overdue.

  Elise waved the jokes of her friends aside, and repeated, “I am truthful. I am only the builder of our home. Baas is the one that took upon himself to change everyone’s mentalities. ’Tis him who is the advocate of the cause. ’Tis him who goes round to talk to all the old spirits and the important leaders, all the various boards and lobbies ...”

  Baas shrugged, and his obvious embarrassment over the compliment made him surprisingly endearing. Like the shimmering aggressiveness radiating from his pores was just a veneer hiding a gem of a person. He was not a bully, but I still couldn’t place him.

  “You’ll be interested to know Sir Baas is like you,” Elise continued. “He’s an undead – a mind, a body and a soul. Both of you have the same goal: to merge your mind and body to become a monster.”

  I frowned. I was weak, and Baas looked anything but that. He could float in the air and was in contact with the greats of this realm. How come he was so low on the scale? Kemsit saw my confusion because she intervened.