Isle of Wysteria: The Reluctant Queen

by Aaron Lee Yeager

  “Very good,” Athel cooed, giving him a peck on the cheek. “You get two points for that.”

  “By the seas, I can’t believe you are still wasting your time with all those foreign adventure books of yours,” Privet commented as he stepped out of the shadows towards them. Privet was a stallion of a man, back straight and shoulders broad, especially compared to Alder, who always had a bit of a slouch. Everything about Privet’s body announced experience and strength, while Alder’s pale little body often looked like a stiff breeze might knock him over. It was fair to say that Athel found Privet just as physically attractive as she always had, but it was in the eyes where she now saw the greatest difference between them. Whereas Alder’s eyes burned with resolve and determination, Privet’s eyes were wavering and unsure.

  “Were you able to find the seeds I sent you for?” Athel asked, wiping the perspiration off of her forehead.

  “Yes, I found them,” Privet said, tossing a small bag into Alder’s hands. “You wouldn’t believe what I had to go through to get them.”

  “How long were you back there?” Alder asked, looking around as if half expecting to find another hidden person.

  “Long enough to watch the two of you embarrassing yourselves.”

  Athel gave a wry grin and elbowed Alder in the side. “Hey, Aldi, it seems our little display bothered him. Do you think he is jealous?”

  Alder rubbed his side and looked Privet over thoughtfully.

  “Yes, my Lady, but I don’t think he’s willing to admit it to himself.”

  “I don’t need to hear this,” Privet snorted as he walked away. “Have fun with your bony little husband, Athel.”

  “He’s not bony,” Athel defended, putting an arm around Alder and pulling him in close. “He’s...lean.”

  “You are most gracious, my Lady.” Alder said, straightening himself up as tall as he could.

  “Aw, don’t be so stiff with me, Aldi,” Athel chided, slugging him in the arm. Call me Athi, we're married now.”

  “I am aware of that,” Alder said, rubbing his arm. But you are the heir-actual to Wysteria. It would be disrespectful to address you so informally.”

  Athel chuckled. “Aw, come on. No one around here cares about that stuff.”

  “I do.”

  “Okay, well, I know you do, but that is because you are a big stuffy head.”

  “Thank you.”

  “You're welcome. What I mean is that no one back on Wysteria will ever know that you broke some antiquated custom while we were out here.”

  “I would know.”

  Athel placed her hands on her hips and decided to switch tactics. She gathered her red hair and draped it over one shoulder, the way she knew he liked. She dreamily hooded her beautiful light brown eyes, and deftly ran a finger back and forth across his chest.

  “Aldi,” she said in soft velvety tones. “It would make me really happy if you would call me by a pet name, even if it is just when we are alone together.”

  She felt a tinge of satisfaction as he reacted. His face blushed adorably, and she could feel his heart racing in his chest.

  “Pleeeease,” she pleaded in her most sultry voice, running her fingertip over his lips.

  He bowed formally. “I’m sorry, my Lady, but that just wouldn’t be proper.”

  She grunted and stamped her foot. “Oh, come on, don’t you respect me enough to give in just a little?”

  He blinked. “It is precisely because I respect you so much that I cannot give in.”

  “Fine!” she shouted, stepping back. “I swear, you dig your heels in about the most random things.”

  “There is nothing random about etiquette,” he reminded her.

  “Stop it! You sound like my mother,” she warned, feeling her anger rise.

  “Stake your temper,” Deutzia warned as she shimmered from across the deck. “Remember what we talked about.” Athel took a moment to rein in her emotions before continuing.

  “Look, I’m getting kind of hungry, we'll discuss this more later. I’m sure you need to start on dinner preparations.”

  “Yes, I do,” Alder said with a polite bow before walking away.

  “There better be some cheesecake for dessert,” Athel warned.

  “Brambleberry, my Lady. It is already chilling in the cooler,” Alder shouted back.

  “Good man.”

  * * *

  Alder was careful to be completely silent as he walked past Mina’s quarters and made his way to the galley. As he approached, he heard quiet sobbing coming from the entrance. Sitting on the floor, her red pigtails drooping sadly, was a tiny golem dressed in a maid’s costume.

  “Bunni, what is wrong?” Alder asked gently as he scooped her up with his hands.

  “I got kicked out,” Bunni sobbed.

  “Kicked out?” He repeated. Without thinking, he took a small cookie out of his uniform pocket and handed it to the doll, which began munching happily as he walked into the galley.

  It had been completely trashed. Heaps of dirty clothing were tossed into the sink, a chest of old magazines dumped out onto the dining table. A collection of spyglasses, sextants, and compasses looked like they had been discharged on top of his meticulously stacked clean dishes. In the middle of it all was Captain Evere, the black orbs that served him as eyes squinting in frustration as he tried to nail hooks for a hammock into the wood of the pantry.

  “I beg your pardon, Captain Evere, but may I ask, why you have rearranged my kitchen?”

  “Ah, there you are lad,” Evere said, placing a large strong hand on his shoulder. “This kitchen area is now my living quarters. Just thought I’d warn you. I'll need you to feed my parrot twice a day.”

  Alder furrowed his brow. “But, you don’t have a parrot.”

  There was a rustle of feathers, and a brightly-colored parrot came to a rest on Evere’s shoulder. “Then what is this then?” Evere asked. I rescued this little guy when we were on Cocimbas. He reminds me of the Phoenix of Liore, the great bird from the stage play, so naturally I named him Tim instead.”

  Evere snatched the cookie out of Bunni’s hands and gave it to the bird.

  “My cookie!” Bunni squealed, holding out her tiny little hands. “The smelly bear-man took it! Give it back!”

  “I’m not a bear-man,” Evere said, acting hurt as he scratched his graying mutton chops.

  “Yes, Bunni, you should show him respect by calling him Captain,” Alder corrected gently. “Speaking of which, Captain, may I ask why you are here?”

  “Because I’m tired, lad,” Evere said, attempting to roll himself into the hammock strewn across the pantry.

  “Yes, well said. What I meant was, why are you here in the galley?”

  Evere leaned back and tilted his hat forward over his eyes. “Mina kicked me out.”

  “Did you two have a fight?”

  “No, lad, I’m here because I just love hanging out with you and your persimmons.”

  “But, I had no idea you were so fond of...”

  “Of course we had a fight, you nitwit!”

  * * *

  Late that night, Tigera was enjoying his favorite part of the evening. After eating a particularly sumptuous dinner, he leaned back in his cell and began using his favorite toothpick. Many islands used local softwoods when making their toothpicks. This certainly lowered the cost of shipping toothpicks from other islands, but softwoods had the tendency to splinter when they were too dry, and then become too soggy and soft as they absorbed saliva. That is why he was so glad to have visited a small bistro on Falmar which stocked their toothpick dispensers with the most perfect hardwood toothpicks Tigera had ever used, before or since. A beautiful dark cherry color, they looked polished. So smooth to the touch, lacking any burrs or stray fibers. Tigera always replenished his supply whenever he traveled there, but now it was going to be difficult, seeing as how he was a major person of interest in an ongoing investigation into the mass kidnappings on Thesda. So, in the meantime, he was v
ery careful to fully enjoy the use of his remaining supply of perfect toothpicks.

  He stood up to check his image in the porthole opposite his cell. He had already decided to pick his teeth a second time, if only to enjoy the picking sensation, so looking at his teeth was really just for repetition’s sake more than anything else. But try as he might, he could not catch his reflection. This bothered him for several moments, until it occurred to him that the reason he could not see himself was because the porthole had been left ajar.

  He grabbed the bone necklace around his neck, and within a few moments, a small bird had managed to force the porthole hatch open far enough to squeeze its way into the room. Closing his eyes, he could see through the small creature’s eyes as he guided it down the corridor. Flittering past the stone-core, the bird went into the captain’s quarters. Amazingly, The Captain wasn’t there, and the first-mate was passed out on the bed, surrounded by wine bottles.

  Tigera could not believe his luck. For a moment he felt the desire to say a prayer of thanksgiving to Sponatrion, the God of Hoeun and his people, but then he remembered that he owed Sponatrion quite a bit of money, so he discarded that idea. After some searching, the keys to the brig were located hanging neatly on a hook on the wall.

  Struggling under the weight, the small bird carried the keys back and placed them in Tigera’s waiting hands. After a minute of fidgeting, he was able to wrench his arm around enough through the bars to insert the key from the other side and release himself. That was when he noticed a second, gold-colored key on the ring. It was the key to the ship’s wage chest where the crew’s pay was kept until distributed.

  He felt like shouting for joy at his good fortune, but decided to keep his mouth shut. After all, the wisdom of the hen is that she clucks only after the egg is laid. Carefully, he made his way through the corridors, listening for any sound of approaching footsteps.

  Quiet as a mouse, he entered the captain’s quarters, which nearly rattled from the noise of Mina’s loud snoring. Tigera knew he was taking a terrible risk, but luck was with him tonight, and fortune favors the bold. After a quick search, he found the wage chest underneath some dirty clothes.

  Tigera picked up an article of lingerie and held it up for examination. “So tacky,” he whispered to himself, then tucked the small metal chest snugly under one arm.

  One minute later, he had reached the top deck, and moving swiftly and silently, made his way over to Privet’s sloop, where it hung moored to The Dreadnaught. The sliver of moonlight bathed everything in an eerie blue fog as he loosened the ropes and rolled back the canvas that covered it.

  “Took you long enough.”

  Tigera yelped in fright and nearly jumped out of his skin, falling backwards and dropping his chest onto the deck.

  Athel stood up from within the sloop, looking exceptionally pleased with herself as she held her staff.

  “H-how did you know I’d be here?” Tigera asked aloud, pulling himself up on his haunches.

  She rolled her eyes. “Isn’t it obvious? Escaping with a sloop the night before we set sail? Who do you think left the porthole open? Who do you think put the tithe keys together with the brig keys?”

  His eyes grew wide with understanding. “That was you? Oh man, why didn’t I see it? It’s just like in Migration.”

  Athel clapped her hands. “Yes, when Janiro leaves the night before the autumn campaign against the lizard-tribes.”

  He slammed the palm of his hand down in amusement. “Oh, I totally should have seen that one coming.” Alder stretched as he sat up, stiff from being curled up under the canvas for hours.

  Tigera lifted up his finger and pointed it at Athel. “You are too good, do you know that?”

  Athel gave a quick curtsy, then jumped down onto the deck.

  Seeing her standing over him, Tigera’s smile quickly dissipated. “So, I suppose it’s back to the brig for me?”

  “Hardly,” Athel said, running her finger over the top of her staff. “In fact, I came to hire you for another job.”

  “Another job?” Tigera asked, eying her suspiciously.

  “Or an extension of your previous one, depending on how you want to look at it. Spirea ran off, and despite all of our efforts we have been unable to locate her. Chances are she found a way off-island by this time. Only your animals can track her now.”

  “So, what are you going to do?”

  “I’m going to give you this sloop.”

  Tigera could only stare at her stupidly. “I-I’m sorry. You've lost me now, what book is this from?”

  “I want to hire you to track Spirea down, no matter how far she goes. She is dazed and confused. It will take some time for the afet you placed in her body to allow her real personality to surface again. Once you locate her, I want you to monitor her and continue making adjustments to the necklace around her neck that controls the afet.”

  Tigera scratched his black goatee as he considered her offer. “As a beast-master my time is precious. What you are asking could take the better part of a year.”

  Athel placed an armored boot over the chest he had dropped. “And you will be properly compensated. Consider this a good-faith payment. You'll receive ten-times as much when the job is done.”

  In the near-darkness around the ship, hundreds of small animals were quietly gathering, answering the voiceless call of Hoeun magic, unseen by Athel and Alder,.

  Tigera smiled. She wasn’t just beautiful like a swan; she was cunning like a fox. By leaving the keys out, she had tricked him into stealing the ship’s treasury. If he accepted her offer, his theft would become legitimized and he could leave in peace; if he refused, he would be tried for theft, and the captain would probably have him executed on the spot. In one single move, she presented herself as being simultaneously merciful, generous, and dangerous.

  “You really are my angel,” he mused as he rose to his feet and dusted himself off. “But your plan is naïve. You forget, I’m not part of your crew. I have no loyalty to any of you. I’m not one of your ‘good guys,’ okay? Ten times this chest is tempting, but not worth risking my life over. I can just accept your offer and leave, and you'd never see me again.”

  Alder shrugged. “At least he is honest about it.”

  Now numbering in the thousands, the gathered animals began to move. Up the mooring lines they skittered and climbed, their beady red eyes occasionally flashing in the darkness.

  Athel smiled wickedly. It made Tigera feel afraid.

  “Do you know why I trust you?” Athel asked, spinning her staff around.

  “You trust me?” Tigera asked with wide eyes.

  “Absolutely. You see, you are a selfish person...”

  “Please.”

  “Let me finish. And a selfish person can always be trusted to do what is in their best interest. Selfish people are the simplest to predict, and the easiest to manipulate. It’s something my mother taught me.”

  The nearly invisible crowd of approaching animals was now all around them, dropping silently onto the deck, moving as one, surrounding their prey.

  “Then there is hope for you yet,” Tigera praised.

  “So,” Athel concluded. “As long as I create a situation where doing what is in your best interest is also what I want, then I can always trust you to do what I want.”

  Tigera held his hands out. “And that is where you have failed. Money is simply not enough to make me stick my neck out.”

  In the darkness around them, the ever-tightening circle of thousands of teeth and claws drew within just feet of the trio, ready to strike.

  Athel held up her fingers. “Do you know what this is?”

  Tigera squinted to see in the dim moonlight. It looked like little more than a grain of sand.

  “This is a cruisao seed. Your dinner tonight was quite special, you consumed hundreds of them.”

  Tigera touched his hand to the bones on his necklace and the mass of animals halted at his command. “And what can it do?”

&nb
sp; Athel took her boot off the chest and dropped the seed down through the keyhole. She twisted her staff in her hand and the chest nearly came apart as dozens of razor sharp thorns tore right through the metal. From the tip of each spine, a steaming clear liquid dripped down.

  Tigera clucked his tongue. “Okay, you have my attention. And what about the...uh...the oozing stuff, there?”

  “Well, that’s the best part. Alder, tell him what a tree-singer can do with cruisao seeds.”

  Alder cleared his throat and stood up straight. “It’s pure evil, the kind of thing we wish we could undiscover. Forbidden except in times of war, which I’m afraid we technically are, the venom in the barbs destroys your ability to control your body. Your muscles freeze, you cannot breathe, your heart cannot beat. You spasm so hard, you break your own spine. But that is after your skin melts off.”

  Tigera took a step back. “You're not an angel, you're a demon!”

  “See? And Privet said you could never be intimidating,” Athel slugged Alder on the shoulder with enthusiasm.

  “Thank you, my Lady.”

  Athel stepped forward and looked Tigera straight in the eyes. “It will take about a year for the seeds you ate to fully leave your system. Until then, I can activate them at any time. It doesn’t matter where you go. Even if you are on the other side of the world, I can impel them.”

  For several moments, neither one of them said anything. Alder looked back and forth between them, wondering what would happen next.

  Tigera fingered his necklace, and the hidden hoard of hungry animals slowly retreated back into the darkness. “It would appear that I've been done in by the boy’s cooking,” he said with a smile.

  “It was very difficult to design a dish that would mask the taste of the seeds,” Alder admitted, relieved.

  Tigera smiled brightly. “You know, princess, I have reconsidered. Your offer is most appealing.”

  “I’m glad you see it that way,” Athel said, rocking back and forth on her heels.

  “A sloop to use and a chest of gold to fund my expenses; that is quite generous,” Tigera said, standing over the ruined chest. “Oh, would you mind?” he asked, pointing down.