The Search For WondLa

by DiTerlizzi, Tony

  Rovender explained. “It is a tradition among the Halcyonus that you have a drink from the heart of the house—the family cask. Just as no two homes are alike, no two homes make the same drink.”

  A smiling Hostia handed out the drinks to the trio. Rovender drank his down in one shot. “Much appreciation and gratitude to you,” he said with a nod, handing the glass back.

  “And to you,” Hostia replied. She looked at Eva.

  Eva sniffed the contents of the glass. An enigmatic whiff of otherworldly spice whirled around her face. She looked over at Muthr, who was analyzing her drink with a laser.

  “It seems to be a combination of distilled herbs and spices,” Muthr said. “Their basic compounds are similar to anise, cinnamon, and perhaps coffee beans. Add a water purification tablet and you should be fine, Eva.”

  “No,” Rovender whispered. “Just drink it.”

  “Yes, drink!” Hostia said, still smiling. The other family members had now leaned over to get a better view of the curious interaction.

  “You will insult them if you tamper with the drink in any way,” Rovender added in a whisper, nudging Eva’s glass closer to her face.

  “I understand, Mr. Kitt. However, I—,” Muthr began.

  “Oh, Muthr,” Eva cut her off. “They are allowing us into their home. Remember?” She consumed the drink in one gulp. Warm herbs and spices tingled her insides as the liquid made its way down her throat. “Much thanks and gratitude,” Eva said, mimicking Rovender’s gesture.

  “And to you,” Hostia said, taking the glass. She looked at Muthr.

  “Oh!” Eva grabbed Muthr’s drink. “Don’t worry about her. She does not eat or drink. She’s a robot.”

  “What is a robots?” Mægden asked.

  Hostia studied Muthr, cocking her head to one side. “Why doesn’t it drinks?”

  “She just doesn’t. She runs on power cells,” Eva said, handing the drink back. Rovender intercepted it and gulped it down. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “It is true. The mother is a machine. A contrivance.”

  “She is a toy, Mamus. Remembers?” Zoozi asked.

  “That’s right,” Rovender replied with a grin. “You don’t feed your toys, right?”

  “Ah, yes.” Hostia nodded in understanding. The rest of the family did the same.

  “Come and sits,” Fiscian said, spreading the large pillows out onto the floor. “Tell us of your journey.”

  “Yes, it’s been some time since you haves been here, Rovenders,” Hostia added, sitting down on the pillows. Mægden brought pillows over for Eva and Muthr to relax on.

  And so, Eva and her companions enjoyed the hospitality of Hostia and her family. They all listened as Rovender recounted his story of the strange creature he’d encountered named Eva Nine. Rovender described a daring escape from the vicious huntsman, Besteel, and he told of the surprising companionship of Otto, the giant water bear.

  Afterward Fiscian taught Eva a traditional Halcyonus fishing song. After she entered the words into the Omnipod, Eva joined everyone in singing:

  “Oh, the wind was at our back

  and the tide up to our knees.

  As we gathered up our gifts

  from the green and giving seas.

  “Both my feet are cold and wet,

  but I walk without a care.

  Very soon I shall be home,

  where my family waits there.

  “Mother cooks a tasty meal

  as my children all hug me.

  Please don’t thank me for my gifts.

  Thank the green and giving sea.

  “Sing! Sing! Sing!

  For the green and giving sea.”

  “We appreciate all that you are doing for us, Hostia,” Rovender said, carrying his heavy rucksack behind Eva. She and Muthr were following their host as she led them up a ramshackle staircase lined with fishing equipment, to an empty loft above the house. Eva could hear roosting turnfins chortling softly from within their baskets.

  “You know, Rovender, our home is always welcomes to you,” Hostia said, opening the round door and entering. “All ofs you.”

  “Much gratitude,” Rovender said as he held the door open for Eva and Muthr.

  “Thank you,” Eva said, nodding to Hostia as she entered.

  “Your hospitality is much appreciated, Mrs. Haveport,” Muthr added, extending an open hand. Hostia studied the wire-veined hand and gave it a quick pat.

  The loft was a smaller version of the main living area, though there was an accumulation of fishing baskets nestled under the low window. Though empty, the baskets filled the room with a salty scent. Hostia reached up, lighting the lanterns in the room, and then pulled a single drape over the window. She grabbed three large pillows, larger than those used in the living area, and laid them out on the woven floor.

  “There is a comforts station one door down,” she said as she unfolded a blanket. “Would anyone care for any more foods or drinks? Seabrine tea, perhaps?”

  “No, thank you, Hostia. You’ve done enough. Oh, and I almost forgot … ,” Rovender said as he reached into his pack and pulled out his remaining voxfruit. He handed them to her. “I brought Zoozi his favorite breakfast.”

  “Much appreciations and gratitudes to you,” Hostia replied, taking the fruit. “Zoozi will be so excited.”

  Rovender smiled a toothy grin as Hostia went to leave. She paused at the door and turned to Eva. “You do not haves to leave by morning. You all are welcome to stay as long as you like.”

  Eva’s eyes widened. She thought of exploring the market in the morning, meeting the locals, and learning how to fish. She thought of herself and Muthr living here with Hostia and her family.

  Hostia continued in a solemn tone. “However, you should know that a Dorcean on your trail is likes a turnfin chasing a spiderfish—no matters how far down you swim to hide, he always catch his prey.” She waved. “Safe journeys, Eva Nines and Mother Robot.” Hostia left, closing the door behind her.

  “Well, that was not very reassuring,” Muthr said, rolling to the window and peering down into the vacant plaza below. “Do you suppose Besteel is, in fact, here, Mr. Kitt?”

  “I do not think so.” Rovender pulled out one of his bottles and began rearranging the pillows. “The Halcyonus are a tightly woven community. If he’d been spotted here, Hostia would have heard about it.” Eva saw him look over at her as she pulled off her satchel and jackvest. “We are safe for the night as long as we stay put, and remain inconspicuous,” he said.

  “Then what?” Eva asked as she pulled the Omnipod off of her wrist. She slipped off her sneakboots and socks and dropped the Omnipod inside a boot. She flopped down onto a squishy red-patterned cushion. It felt good to wriggle her toes in the cool open air.

  “Tomorrow morning I’ll take you to the ferry docks and see you off.” Rovender propped up a pillow under his legs and examined the scab on his ankle.

  “Despite our differences, Mr. Kitt,” Muthr said as she wheeled toward the center of the room, where Rovender and Eva were relaxing, “I will be the first to say we could not have come this far without your guidance. And so, I thank you.”

  “Yes, Rovee, thank you!” Eva scooted close, threw her arms around him, and gave him a peck on the cheek. A befuddled-looking Rovender remained rigid. “Oh! That reminds me!” Eva said as she crawled over to her belongings and pulled something out. “I wanted to give you this.” She unrolled the braid that she had made earlier.

  Ivory threads from her tunic, along with the thick climatefibers of her knee socks, were woven into dirty-blond strands of Eva’s hair, and the braid was accented with colorful beads. “Hold out your hand,” she instructed, draping the braided strand in her lap.

  Setting down his bottle, Rovender watched. Eva took his large, calloused hand, palm up, and placed it on top of the braid. She looped the loose ends together and began tying them around Rovender’s wrist.

  “I learned how to make this from one of my holo-sho
ws,” she said. “It is a special bracelet, a friendship bracelet, that I’ve made for you to wear. That way you’ll never forget about us. And you’ll know that wherever you are—wherever you go—we’ll be friends. Always.” She sniffed as she finished tying the bracelet. “There,” she said, admiring her handiwork. “It looks good, right?” Eva’s pale green eyes were glassy. Misty.

  Rovender held up his hand and stared at the bracelet wrapped around his thick wrist. He glanced over at the girl and the robot, both quiet and looking back at him. Grabbing his ratty cloak and bottle, he stood and made for the doorway.

  “I am going to do a sweep of the village tonight to be sure of your safety, Eva Nine,” he said. He draped the cloak over his head, opened the door, and looked back over his shoulder. “Get your rest. You have a busy day tomorrow.” With that, Rovender Kitt slipped out into the night.

  Distant thunder grumbled as the village of Lacus went to sleep.

  Calling turnfins awoke Eva Nine from her deep slumber. Through the undulating curtain she saw the lavender predawn light drift into the room. Her blanket still wrapped around her, she crawled over to the window to view the waking village.

  Down below, one group of Halcyonus fishermen gathered gear for their morning outing, while another was in the center of the open-air plaza arranging small mats in a circular layout. Eva wanted to get dressed and explore before she left; she couldn’t wait to see everything in the daylight.

  Muthr was in sleep mode, standing stationary in the shadows of the room with her eyelids closed. Eva’s jackvest and satchel were next to her. Rovender’s rucksack was still in the room, but the lanky creature was nowhere to be seen.

  I’d love to get some holos of Lacus before we leave, Eva thought.

  As quietly as possible Eva slipped on her thick socks and reached for her sneakboots.

  “Walking distance traveled: thirty-four kilometers,” the shoes announced. Eva shut off the odometer in the sneakboot’s heel. The ever-vigilant robot awoke.

  “Good morning, Eva, dear. Did you achieve restful sleep?” Muthr asked.

  “Good morning, Muthr. Yes, I slept great,” Eva said as she pulled on one of her boots, feeling it contract around her foot to hold it snug. “Where is Rovee?”

  Muthr rolled to the window and peeked out. “Mr. Kitt departed early this morning to secure our ferry to Solas. He said he would return shortly to bid us farewell.”

  Eva slipped her other foot into its sneakboot. As she did so, she felt the Omnipod still tucked inside. She removed the Omnipod, snuck it into her tunic pocket under her blanket, and then put the sneakboot back on.

  “And where are you off to?” Muthr turned toward Eva. “Mr. Kitt specifically told us to remain here.”

  Muthr is not going to let me explore at all. I’ll have to think of a good excuse.

  “Oh, I just have to use the … um, comfort station.” Eva pointed to the shoulder patch on her tunic as she walked to the door. “You know, before AnatoScan kills me.”

  “Of course. Let me come with you.” Muthr rolled close.

  “I’m okay. Seriously—you don’t have to come with me,” Eva said.

  Muthr stared at her, her eyelids clicking with each blink.

  “Besteel’s not here, remember?” Eva wrapped her blanket around herself and pushed the door open. A misty morning chill swept into the room. “Hold on to my stuff,” she said, pointing to her jackvest and satchel. “I’ll be right back. Okay?”

  “Very well. Hurry right back,” Muthr said with a sigh.

  “I will. Don’t worry. I’ll see you in a sec.” Eva smiled as the door closed.

  I’ll have to be quick, she thought.

  Standing at the outdoor walkway of her room, Eva watched the morning light paint Lacus in a golden varnish. The rings of interwoven globular huts that comprised the village rose up toward the dawn sky like a gigantic bowl. Stretched across the diameter of the structure were strings full of long colorful pennants, waving and twisting in the day’s early breeze. From every residence Eva could see the citizens of Lacus emerging as the village came to life. A shiver ran up her spine, and she trotted over to the neighboring hut where the comfort station was located. Eva pushed the door open, and spied two Halcyonus locals inside, chatting to each other.

  “Hi! I’m Eva.” She raised her hand up.

  One of the Halcyonus whispered to the other, and both scurried past her out of the station. Eva relieved herself in the simple bathroom and exited. “I hope the others in this village are more like Hostia’s family,” she said to herself as she pulled the Omnipod out from under her blanket.

  As she captured holograms of the village and its inhabitants from the walkway, Eva heard music—the same lilting music from the night prior—drifting down.

  Eva paused and closed her eyes, mesmerized by the wondrous fugue.

  “Human child.” She heard a breathy whisper within the song. Eva opened her eyes and looked around. A flock of turnfins fluttered across the square above her as villagers below began to open their market stalls. Eva searched the locals milling about: She saw the party of fishermen heading down to the bridges below, a street sweeper cleaning, and a group of yogis stretching on their mats, but no one addressing her.

  “Human child,” the song whispered again. “Eva the Ninth. Nine Evas. The child human.”

  “Who are you?” Eva scanned the multitude of windows across the plaza, trying to locate the source of the music and the whispering. High above, the flock of turnfins circled and squawked, as if they were pointing down to a tiny hut nestled between two larger shacks at the topmost tier of the village. As her eyes traced the latticework of stairs that led to it, Eva started toward the remote location. She paused for a moment at the door to her room, but the mysterious melody danced in her ears. Entranced, she pocketed the Omnipod and headed toward the tiny hut.

  CHAPTER 24: GIFTS

  Eva crept along the rickety walkway circled past the many homes of Lacus. With each step she ascended higher and higher into the towering village. More than once she had to dodge a bewildered resident as the locals emerged from their huts for morning chores.

  “How do you know me?” She looked up at the slew of windows still high above her.

  “I know many things,” the song murmured back to her. “Many things I know.”

  “Are you like me?” Eva squinted up through the sun’s morning glare to check her bearings.

  “I am like you,” the voice whispered, “but you are not like me.”

  Arriving at the topmost tier of houses, Eva stopped in front of a large round hut where one of the cables holding the pennants was anchored. The closest flag, a faded orange streamer with stars and symbols painted on it, danced and twirled in the wind—revealing a narrow stairway alongside the home. Eva edged up the steps as the music drifted down over her, tantalizing her and leading her along.

  She crossed a narrow swaying footbridge that led to the entrance of a small woven shanty. The music was coming from inside. Eva waved her hand over a blue light embedded in the door—as she had seen Rovender do—and the light changed color to yellow.

  “In. Come,” the voice sang in a soft hush. “Come in.”

  “Hello,” Eva said, pushing the door open and stepping into the shadowy cramped abode. A hazy, heavy scent of burning soap and spices greeted her. Above, a knot of thick drapes and curtains hung down from the ceiling in a radial pattern like the holograms she had seen of a spider’s web. Looking at the maze of drapery, Eva bumped into something small, which startled her so that she almost tripped and fell.

  The floor was covered in a vast array of objects. Boxes, vases, containers, and canisters covered every centimeter of the walk space.

  “Gifts given,” the raspy voice intoned. “Given gifts. Watch where you venture, Eva the Ninth.”

  Eva treaded slowly through the hoard of gifts, careful not to upset anything. Among the assemblage on the floor was the object creating the music. An illuminated vase flickered in t
ime to the otherworldly tune it emitted through a lengthy contorted horn. Behind it, heavy tasseled curtains closed the entry room off from the remainder of the hut.

  “Do not fear me,” the whisper said from behind the curtain. “Fear me not. And do enter.”

  Eva gulped, reached up, and pushed the curtain aside.

  The remainder of the small dwelling was also dark, save for the wan beam of sunlight shining through the large window. And this did little to warm the morning chill still trapped within. The mixed scent of flowers, spices, and oils was much stronger in here, causing Eva to feel nauseous. The flood of gifts concealed the creaking floor. The weave of the rounded walls was decorated in a simple pattern, which continued up to the roof. As in the entryway, dark drapes led the way in, toward the shadowy recesses of the shack, where Eva spied the source of the voice.

  Sitting in the gloom, away from the sunlight, was a round, fat, pale being. It was larger than Eva, with numerous stumpy arms. It sat—perfectly balanced—on a one-legged stool.

  The two regarded each other in silence, as the fat being fanned itself in a lazy manner. Next to it a tentacle ending in three pincers hung from the shadowed ceiling; the tentacle was depositing clear eggs into a bowl. One of the being’s runty arms stretched out and grabbed an egg, passed it to another of its many hands, and slipped it into its large mouth. Eva could see something tiny and wriggling inside the clear eggshell before it was consumed. Her stomach lurched.

  “Gadworm eggs,” the fat being said, though its mouth did not move. “Eggs of the gadworm. You know, they always lay twenty-three. As long as I keep eating them, she’ll keep laying. Three and twenty. Twenty and three.”

  Eva glanced up. The endless tapering worm was suspended throughout the entire house on the cords that held the curtains. Eva’s eyes followed the snaking body for a moment, but the worm’s coils led her gaze back to the mysterious fat being. It watched her with two glittering slits set far apart on a wide head. “I am Arius. Arius am I: the one who sees.”