TREETOP CONFERENCE
December
Gusts of cool wind rocked the top slender branches of the Palace Oak. Electrum lay in a hammock with eyes closed, but he was not asleep. He lay listening to the sound of boots scuffing over the wooden platform’s dry flooring in a repetitive shuffle.
He didn’t bother to open his eyes. Every movement of the pacing prince was familiar, but the sprite’s emotions tugged at the edge of his consciousness intruding on his thoughts.
Electrum wanted to think about a small retirement tree. Something out of the way. Fully furnished. Maybe even a small boat of his own.
The pacing stopped. Silverthorn’s urgent voice severed the pookah's foggy thoughts. “The silver is spreading. What am I going to do, Electrum? Look at my wings.”
With reluctance, Electrum focused on the sprite. The prince’s wings were the same dark shade of green as his skin but transparent and narrow like a dragonfly.
“There’s nothing wrong with them,” the pookah answered. “Of course they’re not like mine.”
With a grunt, he rolled out of the hammock. Reaching up, he retrieved a black hat from a nearby twig. When he put it on, his ears poked through holes in the brim. His wings spread out like a large moth. The underside was the glossy color of wet holly leaves with gold and silver veins. He shrugged and folded them tight against his back, tucking the color inside a dark, v-shaped hump.
The prince reached behind and tugged at his own glimmering wingtip that was outlined in white. “You know what I mean. The silver is spreading.”
Electrum knew, but the wings weren’t the prince’s real problem. The issue was coming of age. As his tutor, he had thought it a logical part of education to acquaint the prince with commerce. He hadn’t expected him to fall in love with Amber.
“Everyone’s wings turn either silver or gold when they come of age,” said the pookah. “You’re an evening sprite so of course you’re going to turn silver. It’s the way of things, Ralphie.”
“Stop calling me Ralphie. My name is Silverthorn.”
“Exactly. Silverthorn. Need I say more?”
The prince folded his arms. “You’re not going to remind me about my tiresome responsibilities again, are you?” His lower arms were covered with swirling brown lines that looked like a tattoo, but were as natural as the silver freckles on his face and the straight brown hair that fell to his collar. They would turn silver too after the wings.
“As Grand Pookah, you know it’s my duty to be sure the heir apparent is well educated and aware of his position. That’s you Ralphie. You’re going to inherit the throne, and that comes with obligations.”
The prince had to focus on reality and accept that the relationship with Amber was impossible. Once they both matured, they would forever be in different worlds.
Gripping a tree branch, Silverthorn leaned out over the edge. The breeze stirred his hair. Below him a series of platforms were built onto the branches at different levels all the way to the bottom. Lights twinkled and voices drifted up as servants and guardsmen moved about in the tree palace and on the ground far below.
He turned back and strode across the wooden deck to the pookah.
“What about Amber? We’ll be forever separated in less than a year. This will be our last summer. By the time the snow flies in the Tween World, she will have turned gold, and I will be silver. What do I care about the throne?”
A shiver went up Electrum’s back. Swiveling his ears, he listened for sounds from below. The movement disturbed thought dust that had gathered on his hat, and it spilled over the brim. What wasn’t caught in his hair blew away on the breeze.
“Be careful of your words,” he cautioned. “Sterling is an isolationist. He hates having the gates open. As Captain of the Guard, he has the King’s ear. The halls are peppered with his followers.”
“No one can hear us up here, Electrum. We’re on the top tier. The winds are too strong tonight for flying without good reason. Sterling is old. He and his soldiers have too much bulk to bounce along these thin branches, and they don’t like the cold air.”
Electrum grunted. He didn’t like the cold air either. Not that it was really cold. Not like the Tween World.
“He’s not that old,” Electrum said, “and he’s more agile than you think. There’s nothing wrong with his hearing, and he’s perceptive. Don’t underestimate him.”
“It’s you that should be careful. You’re spilling thought dust on the wind. Whomever it lands on will know all your thoughts.”
“Not all of them, Ralphie. The dust isn’t concentrated. Any thoughts picked up will be scattered and too confusing to make any sense.”
Silverthorn sank onto the floor and dropped his hands on his knees. He smoothed the cloth where his pants were tucked into his boot tops.
Electrum sighed. Just one more year and he could move into a nice little retirement tree. He was looking forward to picking one out.
“Maybe we’d have been better off if the gates were never opened,” Silverthorn said.
“Now you sound like Sterling. Do you wish you’d never met Amber?”
The prince moaned and shook his head. “Maybe if I could talk to the gatekeepers. They know how to keep the gates open between the worlds. They might have a solution for Amber and me. How can I meet one?”
“Only gatekeepers know other gatekeepers, Ralphie. There’s no way to talk to them. Even if you could, they would never reveal anything. It’s the only way to keep the gates secure.”
“But someone before me must have been discontented with where they found themselves. Suppose the place they seem to be is not the real place they should be?”
“Huh?” Electrum was having difficulty following the conversation.
“Maybe I can work toward changing my place.”
“Certainly you can make some changes, but you have to accept things. You’re a prince, and she’s a merchant. Even if you could overcome the social differences, you can’t overcome the physical barriers. You can’t survive in each other’s world. Your wings would shrivel and burn. Some things just are. You can’t change nature.”
“But aren’t there ancient tales of creatures morphing into other forms?”
“All the worlds have their myths.” Electrum wasn’t sure he liked where this was leading.
“I think some of them are true,” Silverthorn said.
“Which ones did you have in mind?”
Silverthorn grinned. “Like a sprite turning into a pookah,” he said mischievously.
Electrum grunted. “Where do you really think pookahs come from?”
“From other pookahs?”
Electrum frowned. “Yes, but I meant originally. What is a pookah?”
Silverthorn got up and paced the floor. His voice took on a singsong quality as he recited.
“In great upheaval the land was torn
And from the struggle two worlds were born
Rumbling and thunder
World asunder
All forlorn
Now two realms with different light
One for the morning, one for night
Families apart
Broken hearts
Different twilights
Sprites turn silver in a misty land
Sprites turn gold as the desert sand
Silver wings
Gold wings
Tween World strand
But sprites who were in the Tween World caught
Turned into pookahs, and their homeland sought
Over river hovered
Gates discovered
Gatekeepers taught
Between the worlds the pookahs glide
On Passage River’s flowing tide
Alas,
Only they can pass
And in either world abide
Pookahs can their form conceal
Thus disguising what is real
Cloaking ships
Making trips
With merchants deal
<
br /> The gatekeepers task - to keep the gates open
About their secrets, little is spoken
Open gates
Accommodates
Unites worlds broken”
Electrum laughed. “A fair recital.”
Silverthorn bowed. “Scrolls in the royal library record the old tales. Simon says there is great treasure in the ancient writings.”
Electrum smiled. “Simon can be overly dramatic. I sometimes think the office of king’s aide and librarian should not be held by the same person. He takes the responsibilities of Librarian far more seriously than those who held the position before him.”
Silverthorn’s eyes glistened. “Some tales say that the parents of a pookah can be a silver sprite and a gold sprite.”
Electrum’s shrug was nonchalant, but he was wide-awake now.
Silverthorn’s voice was soft. “There are some vague passages about an obscure plant. It must be picked fresh and mixed with sprite dust. Then, the sprite in question is sprinkled with the dust and he changes color.”
Electrum tried to brush it aside. This was getting too close to parts of his history that were not generally known. “I believe you left out some important details.”
“Like what?”
“The small matter of a lunar eclipse for one. The kind of sprite dust. Where to get the plant. It’s a vague legend at best.” His stomach felt quivery. “Your time would be better spent pacifying Sterling than in reading old myths. There are many more worthy scrolls in the archives you could be studying. I’m sure Simon would be thrilled to introduce you to them.”
“But if it were true. If it could be done. Wouldn’t that sprite’s children be pookahs?”
“Of course not. That would take a blue moon eclipse.”
“But it does happen,” Silverthorn insisted.
“Rarely. You’d be hard pressed to find one in the records.”
“There was a blue moon eclipse about 60 years ago.”
Electrum stiffened. “How do you know that?”
“It’s recorded in the Gold Realm archives.”
“I see.” He felt a trickle of sweat run down his neck. The cold air now felt good on his hot face. “Perhaps Sterling was right about not sending you to the Gold Realm."
“Your parents weren’t pookahs were they?”
There was a long silence. It wasn’t a scarlet secret, but it could make his life more difficult if widely known. Sterling would hate him even more, if that were possible.
Finally he shook his head and cleared his throat. “My parents were sprites. My father was a common silver dockworker. My mother was a gold seamstress. He had nothing to lose and no responsibility to anyone.”
“Is that why you have thought dust instead of cloaking ability?”
“My gift is rare, but it has nothing to do with my heritage.”
Silverthorn leaned forward eagerly. “So how does it work?”
“Thought dust?”
“No - changing.”
“Don’t be foolish. Didn’t you hear what I said about my parents? They had nothing to lose. You have everything to lose.”
“What I don’t want to lose is Amber.”
“It would mean abdicating your royal station and relinquishing the palace. You’d forfeit your royal privileges with your best hope being to join the merchant class— if they accept you.”
“I have my experience as a pollywog. All the merchants praised my work. I don’t think I’d have any difficulty being accepted.”
Electrum coughed and said under his breath, “What else would they say to a prince?”
Silverthorn didn’t notice. “And Amber and I would be together,” he whispered.
“Your father would never allow it. The whole idea is absurd.” Electrum slumped back in the hammock. How could he have let the kid lead him into this discussion?
Silverthorn’s voice was firm. “Where do we find this amazing plant?”
With resignation Electrum said, “In the Tween World. You need a cat to find it.”
“A cat? That shouldn’t be hard.”
“Cats are unpredictable. How do you think you’re going to recruit a cat?”
“What about that one you used to tell me stories about? What was her name?” He squeezed his eyes shut, then grinned. “Dusty. What about Dusty? You said you could communicate with her.”
“Dusty has kittens. She won’t allow herself to be distracted from them. And you’re forgetting the other details. Your dust won’t work. It needs to be gold dust. And there’s the little matter of the eclipse.” He knew it was a feeble protest.
“That’s the easy part. You haven’t forgotten about Eclipse Night next fall have you? The one time when gold and silver sprites can meet together in the Tween World.”
“How are you going to make plans with Amber before then? You’ve both already started changing and it’s dangerous for either of you to be in the other’s twilight. If you burn your wings, you’ll never fly again.”
“When Amber and I worked on the ships as pollywogs, Gilder came with me as my valet. He knows Amber and is still young enough to safely enter both twilights as our emissary. You just need to go to the Tween World and handle Dusty.”
“Fly to the Tween World now? It’s almost winter there.”
“There’s still time. It’s not much colder there now than it is here. Will you help me?”
Electrum felt his plans fading and his retirement tree slipping out of reach.
A Sprinkling of Thought Dust Page 2
