The fracas was certainly a whole lot easier to control with two of me. Flashback :…. I’d been in a single body the last time I’d tried to come between these two wildcats, and had been accidently smacked in the head – twice! – for my peacekeeping pains. *
Using all the strength at my disposal and, believe me, I needed every single atom of it, Tracey and Thorn were settled, and compulsorily restrained, into opposing armchairs, where they continued to glare each other.
“Very well,” I began, holding onto Thorn, “what's the real problem here?”
“It's Traculimna!” Thorn exclaimed. “She refuses to see Trix as an adult!”
“No, Arugohumna is the problem!” Tracey burst out. “She insults everything I do! I only want what's best for Trix. She’s just a baby!”
“There you go again!” Thorn derided. “See, what did I tell you? Traculimna, Trix is not a child! Why can't you see that?”
“Because ……… because she's my daughter!” Tracey wailed, tears beginning to spill down her face. “I stay awake at night worrying about her, that's why! I don't want anything to happen to her! She’s all I have!”
Thorn's eyes began to water in empathy. “I'm so sorry, Traculimna,” she whispered. “I worry about her too. I understand your feelings perfectly.”
It was at this stage that I released the two combatants and figuratively stepped back, having memorised the following sequence of action, thanks to constant repetitions. I wasn’t disappointed. They flew into each other's arms and hugged in mortified repentance. Thank goodness the whole emotional fracas had ended. Until the next time, that is.
* See ‘Dangerous Desires (2)’
Chapter 8
“So, about Trix’s boyfriend ……… ” I bravely ventured, after Thorn and Tracey had finished their orgy of reconciliation and were once again in disparate chairs and both attached to my hands. “Do we approve or not?”
“Let's just see what happens,” Thorn said calmly. “If needs be, we can step in later on.”
“That's probably the best plan,” Tracey reluctantly agreed. “I really should give her some freedom.” She sighed dispiritedly. “It's just that, well ……..
“I sympathise, sweetie,” I comforted, running my hand up her arm. “I know how hard this is for you to step away and let things be, but it's for the best.”
“You're right, of course, my darling,” she agreed, putting her hand lovingly over mine. “I have to let her live her own life. I shouldn't be interfering. It's a natural process and I should be happy for her. I mean, look how happy you've made me!” She looked up at me with her beautiful, sparkling eyes – so mysterious, so fourth dimensional, so replete with wonder and brimming over with adoration that it took my breath away.
“You're the loveliest thing in all creation,” I murmured, cupping her chin in my hand and bending down to kiss her tantalising lips.
“Oh, Stephen,” she softly responded, “I love you more than anything in the world.” On the other armchair, Thorn was watching my display of affection with a blend of fascination and annoyance.
“Would you look at those two!” she said to me. “And right in front of us, as well!”
“It's just a spontaneous display of devotion,” I smiled, lifting up her hand and holding it against my face. “You're not being jealous, are you?”
“Of course not,” she denied, her gaze riveted to what was happening in front of her. “It's vulgar and ostentatious, that's what it is. We don't carry on like that!”
“Maybe we should,” I gently suggested, gently squeezing her hand.
“What!” she exclaimed, turning her head to stare at me. “Passion should be private, not out in the open for everyone to see.”
“Passion should be spontaneous, dear heart,” I smilingly contradicted. “For instance ………. ” I framed her face with my hands and kissed her, amused by the startled expression generated by my action. After an initial hesitation, her arms wrapped around me in an intimate embrace and we spent the next minute or so reinforcing our emotional ties. Even while I engaged in this delightful activity, another part of my brain realised how fortunate I was to be with Thorn. She was lovely, spirited and giving. So different from Tracey, but just as gratifying. This would truly have to be the best of both worlds.
Without having to say anything, I found myself rushed up into Thorn and Tracey's bedrooms and spent the next hour or so gainfully employed in that most strenuous, but enjoyable, of all ……. um, physical exercise. Okay, let’s say no more about that ........
Afterwards, we met downstairs, purged of emotion, but happy with it. I idly ran my hands through my lovers’ hair, delighting in the texture and softness of those silken strands. Thorn’s hair was as black as midnight, the same as mine, while Tracey’s longer tresses were a lighter auburn, in contrast to my blonde coloring. Confusing? Consider how I felt for a moment.
Things continued in this vein for two weeks. Thorn, Tracey and I were blissfully happy and the only jarring note in my idyllic existence came with the persistent appearance of Janoma. For some reason I couldn't pin down, he annoyed me. Oh, I'm sure he didn't do it deliberately, but there was something about him …….. Some niggly little thing that just didn't ring true to my paranoid mind. I try to ignore my feelings because Trix obviously adored him, but my nagging intuition just wouldn't go away. Zenith wasn't happy, either. He took to growling at Janoma whenever he arrived at the house. Trix scolded Zenith to no effect and the meetings became more and more awkward. Because of my reluctance to talk to Janoma in a civilized fashion and Zenith's growling, Trix began spending most of her time away from the house. This upset Tracey and the tranquillity of our household was broken.
Finally, Tracey rounded on me and demanded to know what was going on. “What do you mean?” I asked, guiltily.
“You know very well what I mean, Stephen,” she accused, shaking her finger under my nose. “Because of you, my baby is hardly in the house anymore. Explain yourself if you can, Mister!”
“I'm sorry, sweetheart,” I pacified, “I didn't mean to distress you.”
“Okay, what then?” she demanded, hands on hip – a bad sign, in anyone’s language. “What's going on between you and Janoma?”
“I simply don't like him,” I confessed, spreading my hands in a helpless gesture.
“Exactly what is it about him that you don’t like?” she questioned. “My baby is happy, and I'm happy when she's happy, so why are you spoiling everything?”
I took a step backwards from her rebuking voice. “There's nothing specific,” I countered, trying to think of ways to verbalise my doubts. “It's simply a feeling I have. He's too smooth. Too slick. The human way of putting it would be that he comes across as a snake oil salesman.”
“And that means?” Tracey challenged.
“Put simply, I think he's up to no good,” I proclaimed, “although I don't have any proof to back it up.”
“Of all the ridiculous, stupid ……… ” Tracey began, only to have her tirade cut short by Thorn who remarked thoughtfully: “Maybe we shouldn’t be too hasty, Traculimna.”
Tracey whirled around to face her sister. “Don't tell me that you believe Stephen's nonsense?” she cried, incredulously.
“Well, not really,” Thorn declared, “but Stephen's intuitions aren't something to gloss over, you know. He sees things differently than we do and perhaps there's something here that we’re missing.”
“This is beyond belief!” Tracey exclaimed, exasperated. “You're both crazy! Am I the only sane one around here?”
“Could I point out that Zenith doesn't like him, either?” I meekly proposed. “He spends all his time growling at Janoma whenever they’re in the same room. Wolves have very keen senses, and Zenith obviously sees something amiss as well.”
“He's just being jealous,” Tracey concluded. “Trix isn't spending all her time with him the way she used to, that's all. He feels left out and blames Janoma.”
“No, I think it
's more than that,” I contradicted.
“But even if you're right,” objected Thorn, “how are you going to prove it, and how could you possibly convince Trix?”
“Good questions,” I glumly asserted, “and I can't answer any of them at this stage. Maybe I'm mistaken, anyway. As I said, it's simply a feeling. I could be totally wrong about him.”
“But you don't think you are?” Thorn stated, shrewdly.
“No,” I agreed. “Janoma isn't the person he says he is. I'm getting all sorts of warning signals and I believe Zenith is too.”
“I don't want you interfering, Stephen,” Tracey warned. “You're not to do anything to break my baby's heart.”
“I won't, sweetie,” I promised. “All I want to do is find out the truth. Believe it or not, I'm just as much concerned about your daughter’s well-being as you are.”
“I know that, beloved,” Tracey conceded, laying her head on my shoulder. “I don't mean to criticise.”
“But you do anyway,” Thorn slyly remarked, grinning impudently. “Stephen is well and truly under your thumb.”
Tracey jerked erect. “You should talk!” she scoffed. “Your Stephen is the most henpecked boyfriend in existence.”
“You take that back!” Thorn flared, jumping to her feet. “My Stephen is as free as a bird compared to your Stephen.”
“Hah!” Tracey jeered, scrambling to stand. “Your Stephen has to ask permission to wash his hands!”
“Is that so?” mocked Thorn. “Well, I heard that your Stephen needs a written note to blow his nose!”
“You nitpicking fusspot!” Tracey yelled.
“Shameless trollop!” Thorn retaliated.
Okay, time to step in, or not? Or do I simply let them purge it out of their systems? These two had been having a daily fight ever since they were children and it must have been an awful strain on them to have been so peaceful recently. Despite my misgivings about violence in any form, the underground volcanic feelings they had for each other would occasionally bubble up and seek surface release, despite every good intention. To keep such formidable forces trapped underneath might lead to a major shifting of their personality structures. By the time I'd debated the pros and cons of the situation, it was too late. Thorn and Tracey were grappling on the floor, swearing and screaming obscenities at each other. I removed my selves as far away as possible from the melee and viewed the action from a safe distance. It continually amazed me to watch these spectacles. The conflict, to outward appearances, appeared ferocious and life-threatening, but it was neither of those two things. Despite the mayhem, no one ever ended up being hurt, and the end result was always appeasement. That might be true, I reflected, but I'd hate to be caught in the middle of it. The whole process seemed more about letting off steam than anything else. But, now there’s a funny thing. I’d been fretting about them wanting to compare each other, when all the time I should have been worrying about their comparison of me.
Chapter 9
When the show had finished, with the two entertainers apparently having run out of energy, – Thank you, ladies and gentlemen. The next showing is scheduled for sometime in the near future – Thorn and Tracey became vertical once again, brushed themselves down, straightened their dresses and rearranged their hair.
“Is the fun over?” I asked, sardonically.
“Yes, thanks,” Thorn primly replied, inspecting her nails.
“I feel much better now,” Tracey commented, adjusting Thorn’s collar. “This is the first fight we've had for simply ages! Strange as it may seem, I've missed them.”
“Me too,” Thorn consented, fiddling with the sleeve of Tracey's dress. “There's something to be said for nostalgia. It clears the air.”
“I've said it before,” I told them,” and I'll say it again. You two are unbelievable! You have the strangest way of relieving tension that I've ever seen.”
“It works,” Tracey shrugged.
“I'm forced to agree,” I said, recognising the now tranquil and peaceful atmosphere. “Odd though it is.”
“Okay, now what?” Thorn asked.
“Well, without wanting to be the catalyst of another fight,” I answered, “I think I'll go and visit the shop of Janoma’s uncle. I'll be curious to see what sort of things he sells, anyway. It sounds interesting, if nothing else.”
“Don't do anything to upset Janoma,” Tracey warned. “I don't want him passing on his bad feelings to my baby.”
“I'll be the very essence of tact,” I reassured her. “Honestly, I just want to have a look around, that's all.”
“I'll go too,” Thorn volunteered. “It’ll seem more of a legitimate visit that way.”
“Thanks, honey,” I said, touching her arm. “I'd appreciate the company.”
And so, without further ado, Thorn and I set out on our mission, leaving Tracey and myself behind. Gods, I still couldn’t get used to that! There I was, walking down the street hand-in-hand with Thorn, while at the same time, Tracey and I were drinking tea. Very weird.
After a brief walk, Thorn and I arrived at the shop. It bore a sign lettered ‘Uniquely Old’, and that description could have been religiously applied to the shop itself because it looked ancient. However, on further inspection, I saw that the impression of age had been cunningly, and deliberately, manufactured. The building was decidedly one-of-a-kind.
“Interesting looking shop,” Thorn murmured, as we went inside.
“Isn't it,” I agreed, looking at the fake moss clinging to the outside bricks. “It's quite clever.”
“If you like that sort of thing,” Thorn said, disparagingly.
The inside the shop seemed just as peculiar as the outside. The whole place was steeped in semidarkness for a start, and appeared to be mostly empty. There were a few items displayed in glass cases but that was all. Suddenly, from nowhere, a portly fairy appeared.
“And how may I help you?” he asked eagerly.
“I'm curious about your merchandise,” I told him, truthfully. “I'm interested in antiques.”
“And you've come to the right place,” the presumed owner told me in an oily voice. “I deal in only the finest and oldest items. Everything here is guaranteed.”
“Where do you get your stock from?” I enquired, looking around. “If you don't mind my saying so, there doesn't appear to be a lot of it.”
“Ah yes,” the owner said sadly. “There’s a dearth of items coming onto the market these days. The trade isn't what it used to be, I'm afraid. All of our sources are drying up. Unless I find a new supply of artefacts soon, I may have to close up shop.” He suddenly brightened. “But in the meantime, what can I show you?”
“What items do you principally deal in?” I asked, inquisitively.
He shrugged. “Anything, really,” he confessed. “Sommubant items are always in demand and so is anything from the borgulessa although, to be frank, the latter rarely produce anything of value.” His sneering tone about the goblins caused my hackles to rise. One of my best friends happened to be Nix, and he was a goblin. It might be true that, as a race, they weren't overly artistic, but they did have a strong spiritual and philosophical side.
The owner continued his spiel. “But the most valuable artefacts come from the cogdommina,” he informed us. “Because they were the first inhabitants of our world, and because they’re the oldest race, anything surviving from that period fetches the highest prices.” At this stage, I could almost see him perspiring. “I'd love to get hold of some cogdommina artefacts,” he moaned, wringing his hands. “I'd be rich beyond my wildest dreams.” Then his face fell. “But alas, they’re the rarest of the rare, but maybe one day ……. ” His voice trailed away as his consciousness drifted off into a daydream of riches. I glanced at Thorn and indicated my intention to depart. She nodded, and we walked out the door, totally unnoticed by the shop owner who was busily inhabiting his own idiosyncratic world.
“What a strange person,” Thorn remarked, as he walked along the street.
“A typical shopkeeper,” I said, thoughtfully. “Money seemed to be his major priority.”
“He's certainly seem to taken with cogdommina artefacts,” Thorn remarked.
“Yes, he was practically drooling at the thought of getting his hands on some,” I mused. “I wonder ……. ”
“What?” Thorn asked, following a few futile seconds of waiting for me to add to my words.
“Nothing,” I said, coming out of my reverie. “It's just that ……. ”
“Just that, what?” Thorn exclaimed in exasperation. “Stephen, stop drifting off at the end of your sentences like that! It's all very mysterious and everything, but it's very annoying, you know.”
“I'm sorry, my darling,” I told her, absently patting her hand. “I don't mean to be.”
“Then what?” she demanded. “Tell me what you suspect.”
“This is just the merest supposition,” I told her, shaking my head, “but it seems an amazing coincidence to me that Janoma has an uncle who virtually swoons at the thought of elf treasure, and Janoma just happens to become friendly with Trix at the same time.”
“Are you suggesting what I think you're suggesting?” Thorn said slowly. “Stephen, I've never heard of anything so cynical in all my life!”
“It’s just a thought,” I proposed. “Janoma’s uncle is so greasy you could oil your hair with him. Like uncle, like nephew, I’m thinking.”
“Even supposing you're right,” Thorn argued, “how would befriending Trix help? She doesn't have any artefacts or rare items.”
“I know that, and you know that, but does Janoma?” I replied ruefully. “Besides, it's common knowledge that Trix found that ancient elf temple and brought back the Book of Records that’s presently stored in the library. * Where there’s one relic like that, there could be others. Maybe the uncle is using Janoma to persuade Trix to find more artefacts for him.”
Pitfall (5) (The Underground Kingdom) Page 3
