“I’ll assume you mean their gifts. Ash’s treatment is humane, in my estimation. These plants were suffering, and he ends their suffering. Most, if not all of them have conveyed their gratitude to him as he has done so.”
Alder’s head shot up. “That’s it.”
“Please hold your tongue in a woman’s presence,” Oleander instructed, her gaze never turning away from the Queen’s.
“Please allow me to run my household as I see fit,” the Queen said coolly. “You may censure me if you wish, but I punish the men of my house. That is the order of things.”
The High Priestess bit her lip. “Very well.”
The Queen held out her hand. “Alder, you may speak.”
Alder stepped forward. “Ash’s magic. Don’t you see? He isn’t killing plants at random; he is clearing away the old growth and the underbrush. His magic fulfills the traditional role of men in the forest.”
The Queen lifted her eyebrow. “Interesting. I would never have considered that.”
The High Priestess was disgusted. “How can you be fascinated by this abomination? This is an affront to Milia, it must be destroyed immediately.”
“Let us not be hasty.”
Oleander’s jaw dropped. “H-Hasty?” She looked around, as if she was wondering if she were the only sane person in the room. “My Queen, please do not take offense, but I feel I must ask you, have you purified yourself lately?”
“Why do you ask?”
Oleander’s eyes dropped. “Forgive me for saying so, but madness does run in your family. Your sister’s brief reign is a dark blot indeed on our history.”
Everyone else in the room gasped in offense. The royal guard couldn’t believe such a thing would be said out loud. They gritted their teeth, nearly pleading for an order to attack. The Black Guard prepared themselves for it.
The Queen showed no reaction at all.
“I do not share my sister’s condition, if that is what you mean.”
“Then why are your reactions to this abomination so abnormal? You should be appalled at this. Clearly, your judgment is being impeded by something, which leads me to wonder what impedes it.”
Mina’s rage boiled over. “Athel, how can you just stand there and let her insult you like this?”
“Indeed,” Alder added, sincerely offended. “To accuse the Queen of the Forest of madness goes beyond even your authority.”
Captain Evere removed the safety on his rifle. “Just say the word lass,” he said in a low growl, “just say the word.”
Queen Forsythia turned to her friends in terrible majesty. “I do not scream at her because screaming will make the situation worse, not better. She has the authority to end my child’s life at this very moment. I must tread this situation with the greatest of care or she will take him. That is why I weather her insults. If you cannot speak to her without escalating the situation, please at least hold your tongues.”
Mina, Alder, and Captain Evere could only stare at her and realize the wisdom of her words. Threatened with the death of her child, and besieged with insults, she was perfectly calm. Her level of self-control seemed almost otherworldly.
Queen Forsythia turned back to the High Priestess. “Has it ever occurred to you that love may be the thing that is impeding my judgment?”
Oleander blinked. “Love?”
The Queen glided over and placed a loving hand on her baby. “Yes, this is my child. What’s more, he is the firstborn of my tree, the Queen’s tree. He is my own flesh and blood. Is it not natural that I love him? Is it not natural that I wish to protect his life?”
Oleander was at a loss for words.
Alder’s eyes filled with esteem for his noble wife. This was the first time Athel had ever referred to Ash as her heir, even unofficially.
“High Priestess, may I show you something?”
Oleander hesitated.
“Surely you do not believe that little Ash here will destroy Wysteria in the next five minutes while I show you something?”
The High Priestess looked down at the baby, cooing sweetly as he sucked on his own toes.
“Very well.”
The warriors and guards slackened their grip on their weapons. Captain Evere uncocked his rifle, but did not shoulder it. The Queen led them down the hall and opened up a sealed room. Throwing aside a leather tarp that covered it, she revealed the blackened crystal array, like a sickly pipe organ of gnarled crystals.
“High Priestess, please place your hand on this device.”
Oleander did not move.
“You have my word that no harm will come to you.”
Reluctantly, the old woman complied, and placed her hand on the Stonemaster device. Her body became visibly disturbed. Her palms became sweaty, her fingers twitched, her eyes trembled.
“This device was made with void magic,” the Queen explained. “Can you feel it?”
“Yes,” she whispered. “It feels unnatural, like a hot ember, burning me up, searing my soul. It feels…evil.”
The High Priestess withdrew her hand, unable to withstand any more.
The Queen took Ash in her arms and held him out, despite Captain Evere’s protests. “Now, place your hand on my son.”
The baby giggled happily as Oleander set her hand on his soft little chest.
“Does his magic feel unnatural to you?”
The High Priestess struggled for several moments, her eyes moving back and forth underneath her wrinkly eyelids. “No,” she answered honestly. “His magic feels different from ours, but it does not feel evil.”
Queen Forsythia placed a reassuring hand on her arm. “I commend you for your integrity. I know that was not an easy thing for you to admit just now.”
Oleander opened her aged eyes, less sure of what to do than she had been before.
“May I suggest a compromise?” Queen Forsythia asked graciously. “We do not as of yet understand this magic that Ash is wielding. I will call for a SpiritWeaver to examine him and his tree, and we will find out if his powers are truly demonic or not. Is that acceptable to you?”
The High Priestess was at war within herself. “Every fiber in my being tells me that this child is a threat to us. A threat to the order of things. It is all I can do to keep myself from screaming at you right now.”
She looked up at the Queen. “If you were anyone else. If you were anyone but the hero who saved our forest from destruction, I would dismiss your request without a second thought.”
She looked down at the baby again and made her decision.
“I will stay the tribunal until the Weaver makes his report to us. But, this is the very limit of my clemency and tolerance, do you understand? I must protect the purity of our doctrine and the forest. No matter how much I may look up to you for what you have done, I cannot ignore this further without violating my sacred oaths. Have I made myself clear?”
The Queen nodded. “Thank you, High Priestess. You have been most fair with me and my household. I shall not forget it.”
Without a word, the Black Guard filed out of the room. The High Priestess followed them, pausing to say one last thing at the door.
“I am sorry it has come to this, my Queen. I have no desire to be your enemy, but I must do what is right. I must follow Milia’s will. I hope you know that.”
As soon as the door closed, Athel’s knees gave out and she collapsed to the floor. Pulling Ash close in to her chest, she began weeping openly. She kissed her baby, her tears pattering on his soft little head.
“I was so scared,” Athel sobbed, tears running down her cheeks and dripping off her chin. “I was so scared that they were going to take him and kill him. I was so scared that I was going to have to watch my baby die right before my eyes.”
Athel doubled over, her entire frame shivering as she wept. Alder, Mina and Evere crouched down
and put their arms around her in comfort. They could not help but cry, too.
“I want to leave,” Athel sobbed. “I want to leave this horrible place. I don’t want to live the rest of my life with an executioner standing over me, watching everything I do. Waiting for me to make a mistake.”
It was hours before she stopped crying.
But if I leave…everyone will die.
Chapter Four
Privet could not help but breathe a deep sigh of relief as Wysteria became nothing more than a hazy speck on the horizon. The air felt right again. Free of scrutiny, there was no heady fog of encroaching and hostile life here, only the crisp salty air. It was so exquisitely silent, save for the rustle of the sails and the pleasant rhythmic creaking of timbers.
“Odger, bring us up to six thousand feet and hold steady,” he ordered into the command tube. A yelp and clattering of pans from below let him know that he had startled their Stonemaster from his slumber.
The sails slackened as they moved up, the wind now coming south-southwest. Privet stretched his chiseled jaw to pop his ears as he manned the crank and rotated the yardarms about the upper and lower masts to catch the wind more fully. They bellowed when the angle was right and he felt the ship surge forward to the northeast. He tapped the glass of the binnacle, checking the compass within, and marked their heading on the charts that were laid out.
The charts made him pause. Not because of what was on them, but because of what they lacked. Back on the Dreadnaught, Athel had marked up all of Captain Evere’s charts with her own notes in chalk. Places she planned on going, food she planned on trying. Privet absentmindedly ran his fingers over the crescent-shaped island of Lahiti. He remembered how Athel had drawn all over that one. The Neverending Falls were there, as well as the Floating Gardens. Many times, Athel had attempted to divert the ship there, but the moment had never been right.
Now, it was gone. Nothing was drawn on the map anymore. Athel had sacrificed everything to save her forest.
Privet’s hand balled into a fist. She was gone. The old Athel would never have sent him on this mission with Setsuna. Twice now she had used him as a bargaining chip. He understood the reasons; he had even agreed to it, but he still felt betrayed nonetheless.
“Maybe she really is gone.”
For a while, he stared at the map in silence. Then, shaking his head, he grabbed a quill and began drawing in a crude waterfall next to the island the way he remembered it.
Setsuna walked up on deck, yawning luxuriously as she stretched, flaunting the curves of her taught, athletic body.
Privet ignored her.
“So, we’re finally underway then?” she asked, hopping up on the capstan to peer over his shoulder.
“You know, it’s a lot easier with two people,” Privet commented as he folded up the charts.
“It just shows how skilled you are that you can do it all yourself.”
“That’s not what I meant.”
Setsuna giggled and placed her hands on his broad, muscular shoulders. “Oh, don’t be so stuffy. I tell you what. I’ll make it up to you with a nice long massage.” She slid her hands down his chest, squeaking with delight at the sensation of his rippling muscles. “Senndesian massages are famous the world over, don’t you know?”
“I’m sure they are,” Privet commented as he moved away from her groping hands. “But aren’t you supposed to be keeping the other end of the gate open?”
Setsuna flicked the tip of her long pointed ear. “Is that what I’m supposed to do? Hmm, interesting.”
Privet raised an eyebrow. “If the connection is severed, the whole mission is a bust. Wysteria will run out of drinking water within…”
“Oh relax, you big dummy,” she teased, placing her hand against his rippling abdominal muscles. “As a matter of fact, I just came up from charging your oh-so-precious gate for the day.”
“Really?” he asked, surprised at her fastidiousness.
She nodded sweetly, running her fingers across his abs. “And now, you can do something for me.”
Privet rolled his eyes.
“…You’re going to love this. I have arranged a private concert, and I want you to join me and listen.”
“Oh…wait, really?”
Her beautiful green eyes narrowed seductively. “Why? What were you thinking I was going to suggest?”
Privet gave her a scolding glance, but before he could say anything, he was interrupted by the most lovely soprano singing from below deck.
Privet’s jaw dropped open. “Dwale?”
Nearly trampling over Setsuna, Privet flew down the stairs and found his brother standing on a little makeshift stage in the middle of the galley, singing the most beautiful rendition of I’ila ari’io that anyone had ever heard.
“Dwale!” Privet yelled for joy.
“Brother!” Dwale called back, holding out his arms.
Privet ran up and they fell onto one another’s shoulders, breathing out greetings between tears of joy.
Setsuna came down and looked on happily as the two brothers embraced. Odger, hearing the commotion, came up from the core to see what the fuss was.
“Is this really happening?” Odger asked as he waddled up alongside Setsuna.
Setsuna leaned in towards him, an impish grin on her face. “Why are you asking me?” she whispered into his ear. “I’m not really here. I’m just a figment of your imagination.”
Odger’s eyes went wide as saucers, confusion piling up on top of his confusion in layer after layer until the gears in his mind finally seized up.
“I…uh…I think I’m going to go back down to the core and lie down.”
Setsuna laughed as he waddled away, and gave the two brothers a few minutes to speak quietly before she interjected herself.
“I told you you’d like this concert,” she said in a satisfied tone as she sauntered up.
Privet couldn’t contain his joy. He reached out and scooped her up, giving her a big bear hug as he spun her around.
“Oh wow,” she laughed. “I could get used to this.”
“Thank you so much,” Privet exclaimed. “This is absolutely incredible!”
Forgetting himself, he gave her a big kiss on the cheek.
Setsuna gasped in shock, blushing brightly.
“Oh…oh my,” she said as she touched her skin where he had kissed her. Her heart was beating so fast it felt like it would burst.
“Oh, sorry,” Privet said as he set her down, fearing he had done something wrong.
Setsuna shook her head dreamily. “Sorry? Are you kidding? That was the first time you’ve ever kissed me.”
Now it was Privet’s turn to blush. He opened his mouth to make excuses and explanations, but the emotion of the moment robbed his ability to speak.
Setsuna bit her lip, her mouth splitting into a silly grin as she hugged herself. “I finally got him to kiss me!”
She jumped up in the air, disappearing and reappearing around the room in flashes like fireworks, cheering girlishly to herself.
“She’s very energetic, brother,” Dwale said, placing a dry hand on Privet’s shoulder.
Privet could not help but smile in appreciation as he watched her celebrate. She threw flowers in the air, she cart wheeled about. She disappeared and reappeared so fast there appeared to be a dozen of her. “Yes, she is.”
Finally, her manic energy was spent. She came to a rest on the galley table, breathing euphorically, reliving the sensation of his kiss over and over again in her mind as she squirmed about giddily.
Privet leaded in over her. “But…how were you able to buy his freedom?” he asked. “Even the Queen couldn’t get that old twig to part with Dwale for me.”
Setsuna breathed against her long painted nails and polished them up against her jacket. “Hey, I’m a pirate lord. I can be very
persuasive.”
* * *
In her hovel, Madam Freesia sat in stupored awe at the pile of priceless gemstones sitting on the table before her.
* * *
Akar slid his dry tongue along the bit in his mouth as he was yanked by vines around his neck and ankles up onto the dais for the small group of Matrons to inspect. A dozen more men were brought up along with him, although they did so without struggling.
The Braihmin-class families got first pick, of course. Dahlia Buckthorn walked up and placed a pair of white gloves on her hands. She had a very pretty face, but it was unbalanced by her cruel eyes. She lifted up their arms, checking for lice. She lifted up their lips to check their gums for rot. She gave a swift kick to the back of their knees to check their balance.
“Not too bad,” she praised, taking off the gloves and tossing them into a wastebasket. “What about temperament?”
Iris Bursage pointed her staff at Akar. “That one’s one of ours. He’s a biter. He’s already had a full taste of the whip, but he’s still useless.”
Dahlia put her hands on her hips. “Why are you offering me a biter?”
“One of the navy captains has been pestering us about him, so my mother told me to push him off so he’s not our problem anymore.”
For a second, Iris cast her eyes down. Captain Ssykes’ words had cut her more deeply than she realized. In her mind she remembered his admonition, repeating the pain almost reflexively, like pressing one’s tongue against a sore tooth. His words rattled in her mind over and over again like a gavel.
All you have taught him is how to hate you.
“Iris?”
She cleared her head and got back to task. “The, uh…the others are for the most part agreeable. But take note of the one at the end there; he’s a reader.”
Although older than the others, the man at the end was very attractive. His hair was kept long, pulled back in a wavy, dark ponytail, his chin rugged, his aquiline nose sharp and fetching.
“You’re a reader, eh?” Dahlia asked.
The man answered, without raising his eyes. “Madam Primrose was training me to be a house-husband.”
Isle of Wysteria: The Monolith Crumbles Page 12
