Still charged by the thought of danger, Melaleuca wanted to return to the Vahn. Saving the children appealed to her, but she also relished the challenge of not being caught. But her instructions had included Lexington, and she knew Lexington, though cautious, had good reason to be. She was after all the intellectual conscience of them all.
‘For tonight let us continue what we were doing before the Vahn. Then let us decide in the morning. How about that?’
***
Lexington stood before her large sheets of white paper. In only a day she felt like she had aged weeks or even months. As she penned various facts here and there, noting the comments about thirty years, jotting down the answer to the Kockoroc, putting up the possibility of their parents being the Marauders, she thought about her gentleness as a weapon.
Each time she used it, someone cried, volunteered up information or got angry. Yet no one at the Vahn was gentle, and from what the Gorks had said no one had been gentle for thirty years or more. Perhaps that was what Harshon meant.
What were her exact words again?
“You pose a threat to them. I can see it now. If this is all it takes to make people remember and feel, then things will be worse for you than I have imagined.”
She could see how Quixote could annoy them, and even Melaleuca’s fierceness must be a threat, and she supposed Ari’s strength might daunt a few of them, but her gentleness? How would it work on Master Saurian or Sah Task-Master Carrion? She shuddered imagining trying to be gentle to them, repulsed at the thought.
Harshon’s words about remembering stood out like a major clue. What was it that people were supposed to forget then? Did their hidden memories contain the key linking theory?
Another thought came to her. If her mother was right about the medallion, then perhaps the advice about being like Quixote had some merit. She entertained it for a moment but then dismissed it. Even if her mother was right, she was not ready to be like Quixote.
Quixote waltzed in, hailing Lexington. ‘Hi. Figured it all out yet?’
‘Nearly. What are you going to do?’
‘Play.’
He sauntered away from her, making sure she could not see him, and ran past the mirror into the unknown-age costumes. He knew someone was supposed to be with him, but Ari wanted to sit on the roof again and Melaleuca had the gymnast costume on, leaping around somewhere. Besides, the unknown-age ones held the most fascination.
I’ll just look.
He ran his hand up and down the rows, feeling the different materials, pawing at them. Up and down he walked, day-dreaming, until his hand slipped between two costumes and a small electrical charge zapped him.
‘Ow.’
Pulling the costumes apart, he beheld a costume that appeared as if hundreds of ballerina tutus had been sown together to make the tuftiest, billowy looking outfit he had ever seen. He brushed his hand over it. Small sparks danced and flew about in a tiny electrical storm, stopping when he stopped his hand moving.
***
Dressed as the detective, Lexington eyed the large white sheets of paper.
Key theory, key theory.
Lexington decided she needed hard evidence to prove, at least, one of her theories. So far all she had was the medallion, which she had lost. The obvious place to start seemed the mystery of their mothers and the lady named Karena. If one of their mothers was named Karena then somewhere in the Cathedral-Mansion there must be a record, writing, photo or something to connect it to her. Perhaps that would provide the key linking theory.
As she stepped out of the costume room, a ball of sparks and mini-lightening flashes erupted before her. It died away quickly, leaving a ghost image of Quixote in its wake.
Melaleuca flipped over from the other side of the attic.
‘What was that?’
Quixote walked a few paces forward; the taffeta costume spitting static electric-sparks as he did so. Blue-green hues danced around him in blobs, as the sparks died away.
‘Pretty neat huh?’
‘That’s from the unknown racks?’ Lexington asked.
‘Yeah. I think it generates power.’
‘Quixote,’ Melaleuca said. ‘We agreed someone was to watch you.’
‘Lex was in the room with me.’
‘You didn’t tell me you were picking from there.’
‘Oh…well….sorry….but hey watch this.’
He tore off as fast as he could, the costume erupting into a spectacular, electrically-noisy, light show. Shards of incandescent sparks shot out, and shafts of streaming light poured off him in lurid, scintillating colours. He slowed to a halt as the wall loomed up. The tiny electrical storm stopped, leaving a silhouetted after-image in their eyes.
Both Melaleuca and Lexington stood amazed, with even Lexington looking impressed.
‘Quixote,’ Melaleuca said. ‘Walk back slowly.
Quixote meandered back, and small static crackles and pops sounded, and tiny sparks of light danced around the costume.
As the faint changing coloured-light of Quixote approaching played across their faces, Lexington said to Melaleuca, ‘I think you know what you need to tell him.’
***
Ari sat cross legged as the Shaman, staring into the Northern Hills. Almost immediately he felt the trees teeming inside him. The sensation rushed through him, threatening to overcome him. His heart beat increased, sweat formed on his forehead, and his breathing raced to the point of losing it.
Fumbling for his bracelet, he tugged it off, and wondered what had happened. He stilled himself and waited til his breathing and heartbeat returned to normal.
He put the bracelet on again, breathed as deep as he could, and imagined himself solid inside. He opened his eyes, and hearing the trees, he tried to move into and with it. Like an unseen hand the chorus of the forest reached out, swelling his heart with the immensity of life teeming inside it. He felt the earth beneath the forest, and even the small waterways trickling down the mountains. Enraptured, he spread his feelings out further, discovering the feel of paddocks, fields, mountain tops and snow, all humming with a feeling of their own.
But this was not the voice he sought, and somehow he knew that. He knew he needed to still his mind and quieten his feelings, quieter and stiller than ever before.
***
Lexington made her way down to the great hallways, taking with her a candle powered lamp. The words about being like Quixote played through her mind again, and she started to consider why mimicking him could help her.
He just plunges in, yet he always comes up with something new. And let’s not forget he did not hesitate to leap into the water to save me.
Peeking out the chapel door to ensure no one walked the Great Hallway; she entered it, and started to inspect the photos, giving no more thought to Quixote.
Lexington took her time analysing each picture, using her near-photographic memory to record them. By the time she got to the 20th photo, one fact stood out. All the photos so far had been of the same mother, Melaleuca’s. She could tell because each of the sisters had slightly different noses.
Where were the other three? Locked up? Camera shy? And what of their fathers’ families? Why had Uncle Bear-Nard not mentioned them? Did their fathers even come from New Wakefield?
Too many questions crowded her mind and she could feel the costume wanting to take over. She slipped the bracelet off and felt the questions abate.
A piercing, silent din of something akin to past, quieted voices made her shiver. The night-time Cathedral-Mansion felt ill, like an old ship lurching along on its last voyage. High above her in the dark hidden reaches where light had not penetrated for years, an evil dense presence seemed to float.
Lexington suddenly felt very alone.
Something in the Cathedral-Mansion, just beyond the present dimension, seemed alive. With the bracelet back on she tried to dispel it with logic, dismissing it as Ari’s “Ethmare,” or air pressure changes, trapped stale air, even the Cathedral-Mansio
n decaying. Despite this, the feeling of an unseen presence stayed.
She decided now would be a good time to return to the others. Heading off down the corridor the air swirled behind her as an unseen shape lifted out of the wall.
***
Quixote stood in front of the mirror dressed as a chimney sweep. He held a long, tousled-haired brush, though could not think of anything fun to do with a chimney sweep costume. He swung the brush around, already bored, flicking it forward with enough speed to lose his grip. It sailed forward, landing behind the mirror.
He almost left it there, unimpressed, but tried reaching behind the mirror to find it anyway. Pushing his head between the mirror and the wall, he stretched for the brush, spotting another mirror on the back of the mirror. Forgetting the brush, he tried to move the mirror out from the wall to get a better look, though he could not budge it.
He dashed amongst the racks looking for a strong man costume, wondering what one would look like. Unsure, he finally put on a sumo wrestlers costume. Grabbing the mirror, he yanked it back and with little effort it spun around. Instead of his reflection, a fat, mean-looking sumo wrestler stared at him. Unnerved, Quixote stepped back, and the sumo wrestler stepped back as well.
He moved forward, side, back, forward, and to the side, and the sumo wrestler mimicked all of his moves.
‘Who are you?’ Quixote asked, watching him copy his mouth movements.
‘You’re me, aren’t you?’
Checking the other side, his reflection showed himself dressed in a pair of baggy, sumo wrestlers togs.
He danced between the two mirrors, marvelling at the change in his appearance. Excited Quixote started trying on other costumes at random. The chimney sweep’s clothes made him look like a tall, gaunt man of a sickly, thin build. A hobo’s outfit gave him a short stature and a stubbled unshaven chin. He threw on a butcher’s apron, finding a meat cleaver in its pocket. Brandishing it in front of the mirror reflected back a fat, angry-looking, man.
Quixote wondered what would happen if he put two costumes on at once, something none of the others had tried. He pictured a fat, mean-looking butcher in a tutu, seeing the comedy in it.
He rifled through the costumes, spying instead a ninja outfit. Surprised he had not seen it before; he reached for it, recalling a book he had once read that said they were brilliant at sneaking into places.
Yes. A sneaking butcher.
He pulled the ninja costume on and then stuck the butcher apron on over top. The image in the mirror reflected back a fat man, bulging out of a tight black, sleek ninja suit with the butcher’s apron swaying over his large front.
Titillated, he imagined how much fun it would be to sneak into one of the adult’s bedrooms.
***
Lexington found the attic empty. She duly noted her find before going to search for the others, noticing that despite a number of discoveries, no one else had written anything on her sheets. Miffed she wrote them up.
As she wrote up Quixote’s discoveries, she once again thought about being like him. Perhaps she could pretend for a short while and see if there was any merit in the instruction. After all, no harm had come of his foolishness.
She walked to the 1000 year old costumes, grabbing the first one. The tag said, “washerwoman.”
No, wait, that’s not right. That’s not how he would do it.
Instead, she headed to the unknown-age costumes, reasoning, if he can do it, then so could she.
She pushed the costumes side to side, until only one hung there. Thousands of string-like tassels, in perfect rows, hung limp off the trousers and jacket. She whipped out her notebook to start writing, but then stopped. Instead, just like Quixote, she pulled the costume off the rack, and it plummeted to the ground with a thunk. She ran her hands over it, wondering why it weighed so much.
Hard rectangular objects lay embedded in the sleeves and the legs, and her invisible bracelet vibrated when she touched them. Though knowing Quixote would not act like this, she took her bracelet off until she was ready.
She dragged the costume over to the mirror, took the detective clothes off, lay on the floor, and wriggled into the pants. The hard objects pressed deep in to her legs.
It made no sense, and she nearly backed out. She fought her desire to analyse it and rammed her feet, poking them out of the tassel woven ends. After inserting her arms in the sleeves, she pushed herself up, wobbling with the weight. With the tassels hanging off everywhere she looked like an ancient clown or a pantomime bush.
Pensive, and with the costume still making no logical sense, she slid her bracelet on. The costume bristled into life, and all the tassels suddenly flung outwards, and stuck out taut. Resembling a living hairbrush, the sudden force of it threw her about. Fighting to regain her footing, she fell forward, screwing her eyes up to shield them from the impact.
She never hit the ground. Instead the costume pushed her back up and held her there. Bemused and relieved, she tried falling backwards again. Again it pushed her upright.
She shuffled her feet about struggling to walk properly. Suspended by the taut tassels on the bottom of the trousers, her feet hovered a few inches off the ground.
A hover costume. I have discovered a hover costume.
A small pang of excitement ran through her, and she wondered if this was how Quixote felt making his discoveries.
She took a step expecting the heavy weight to require a lot of effort, but found walking easy. The tassels acted like spongy sprigs allowing her to walk softly without touching the floor. She trod out of the costume room, wanting to find Melaleuca.
In the attic her legs started to hum and vibrate like a small electric motor had been switched on. At first it tickled and then it pulled, and the humming and vibrating became more and more intense. Blue light glowed from the trousers, sending faint rings of energy surging up and down her legs in slow, wave like motions.
Panicking, she tried to turn around and go back to the costume room.
Her left foot held its grip on the floor as her right foot kicked off to step forward.
The floor beneath her broke, splintering in a massive tearing noise, and the roof overhead ripped, sending shards of roof tiles smashing around her. Windows shattered and smashed below her and the whole building and the earth shook as an earthquake from deep in the earth caused the lawns out in front to bend and fold, pushing dirt up from beneath the ground.
She tore her bracelet off, and all the tassels went limp, stopping the blue surging rings and she crashed to the ground. The far off rumble of the shaking earth went quiet.
What have I done?
For the first time in her life she wanted to hide in case she got blamed. The roof above creaked a little and small bits of debris fell to the floor. She crawled forward peering down the six inch crack she had torn. Even in the darkness it seemed to go all the way to the bottom.
Awestruck at unleashing a terrible power beyond her comprehension, she took the costume off, placed it on the ground and stared at it.
***
The rumbling and the shaking of the house tore Ari from his meditation, making him tumble backwards down the roof. Landing safely, he noted that it was now night and he had not been aware of the setting sun. His heart sunk a little. He had heard the “O” syllable and was almost about to hear another one, when the building shook. He could see the big tear in the Cathedral-Mansion. He scrambled back toward the attic.
***
Melaleuca stopped her gymnastics. The earthquake jolted the attic floor in front of her. Without thinking, she headed straight back to the costume room. The last time an earthquake hit, Quixote had pulled the key out of the statue. What had he done now?
***
Ari and Melaleuca met in the attic, in front of the costume room.
‘Did you feel it?’ Melaleuca asked.
‘How could I not? Where’s Lexington?’
‘Last saw her up here. Where’s Quixote?’
‘No idea.’
‘What’s he done now?’
***
Ari and Melaleuca arrived at the same time, racing into the costume room, finding Lexington. Assuming she had rushed there ahead of them, to find Quixote as well, Melaleuca asked, ‘Where is he?’
‘What costume has he tried on this time?’ Ari asked.
Looking guilty, Lexington said, ‘I am the only one here.’
‘Have you just got here?’ Ari asked.
She motioned to the costume on the floor.
‘It was me,’ Lexington said. ‘I tried that costume on. It’s from the unknown-age.’
Melaleuca looked annoyed.
‘I thought we had decided that someone should be here when trying those ones on?’
Lexington’s face became hot and flustered.
‘Well Quixote tries them on all the time. And you said that I should be more like him. So I tried one on. And you know what?! I think from now on, I will be like me!’
‘But look,’ Ari said, surveying the damage through the door, ‘I think this could give us away.’
Perhaps encouraging her to be like Quixote had not been the best idea, Melaleuca thought, though something about it did feel right. However, she could see Quixote writing his name on the lawn in upturned earth just for fun. Steered properly, Quixote’s bizarre way of looking at life, provided insights and flashes of inspiration into many things. So, what was Lexington to learn from Quixote?
‘I think until we understand those instructions better,’ Melaleuca said, ‘we should just be ourselves.’
She bent down, felt the costume and looked up at Lexington. ‘It’s a good discovery, anyway Lex. It’s powerful, something we may eventually need.’
Lexington snorted at Melaleuca.
‘I’m sure Quixote would love to wear this.’
‘Where is he?’ Melaleuca asked.
***
Vahn and the Bold Extraction, The Page 4
