Trinka and the Thousand Talismans

by Christy Jones

  Chapter Fourteen

  Take Two of These

  Two extra heads suddenly appeared above the shoulders of a statue on the third floor.

  “Come on,” Jamilah whispered.

  Trinka followed her steps as she slipped out from behind the statue, dashed across the hall, and darted into another alcove. Jamilah edged out, creaked open a large heavy door, and motioned Trinka inside.

  “Well, come on!” Jamilah urged, as Trinka stood stone-still in the doorway, staring at the room around her. Hundreds, maybe even thousands, of books covered all the walls from floor to ceiling, stacked on shelves that rose in layers and layers, like one of the genie’s spectacular multi-tiered cakes. To Trinka, who had never seen more than one book at a time, it was like looking out at a wide open landscape after being cooped up in a building her whole life.

  She finally stepped all the way into the room, and Jamilah heaved the door shut. Trinka didn’t know which book she’d begin looking at first, but her cousin promptly went to a shelf and pulled out a heavy-looking tome. Unlike the thin books and scrolls she had seen in Parthalan, all of these looked immense and thick, and some were even carved from sheets of thinly shaved stone. Trinka stepped closer and peered over her cousin’s shoulder.

  “Can you read them?”

  “Of course I can,” she scoffed. “It’s written in common hand. Anybody can read that. Anybody except Sabirah, that is,” she added. “It’s only the literary alphabets that get really complicated.”

  Trinka sank quietly onto a seat next to her cousin, feeling mortified that she couldn’t read a word in any writing system. Before leaving Ellipsis, she had always taken for granted that everybody stored their spare thoughts in glass jars. Not that I was ever good at that, Trinka said to herself, so I probably couldn’t learn to read either. As her cousin stared over the pages, Trinka’s eyes turned away and wandered around the room.

  The library must have been on the top floor in the center of the castle, since she could see bits of light filtering through the intricately carved tiers in the roof. There were no windows in the walls, but between the columns of books, occasional alcoves held statues, paintings, and carvings. Several large tables filled the middle of the room, each covered with strange spheres and instruments that looked as though they had once moved but now stood still and unused. Trinka sensed, as she had when she had first walked into her mother’s old room, that the library possessed a different character than the rest of the palace. There was something in the shelf-filled walls that spoke of a single occupant who had spent a lot of time there. It seemed to be someone she should know, but she wasn’t sure who.

  “Do you come here often? To the library, I mean?” she finally said aloud.

  Jamilah had pulled out a huge stack of books and was poring over them rather poutily, as if nothing she saw pleased her.

  “Only when I’m trying to get away from Sabirah. She hardly ever comes up here. I like to read and, well, you know she doesn’t.”

  Trinka smiled to herself in slight surprise. It was the first time she had heard one of her cousins profess a like for anything. Until now, she had thought they only enjoyed arguing.

  “Are all these books yours?”

  Her cousin shrugged. “I guess so. No one else reads them now that grandfather’s gone.”

  “Gone?”

  “I never knew him. He died when I was a baby. Musonas, my father, used to come up here sometimes when he lived here. But he always took his books downstairs to read.”

  “So this was your grandfather’s library.”

  “He would have been your grandfather too.”

  Trinka reflected on that. She’d never thought about having another set of grandparents, other than Elora and Siglar. It was even stranger to think that she and Jamilah (and Sabirah) had the same grandfather. She had arrived at the palace as a complete stranger to Apostrophe, and yet, in a way, part of it belonged to her too, or she belonged to it.

  “It’s got to be in here somewhere,” Jamilah muttered as she flipped through yet another volume. “I hope I can remember how to make one of these when we find it.”

  ”‘Perfect practice makes perfect.’ That’s what they always used to say to us in school... and at home,” Trinka replied absently.

  Jamilah stared back at her for a second.

  “That’s stupid!” she exclaimed finally. “How can you ever expect to be good at something, let alone perfect, if you don’t practice? That’s what practice is! Messing up. Making an idiot out of yourself.” Jamilah gestured wildly, and Trinka couldn’t help giggling.

  Jamilah returned her attention to her books.

  “Uuuyyuhh!” She suddenly let out an exasperated sigh of protest.

  “What’s the matter?”

  “These recipes! They’re just ridiculous. Most of them have tons of ingredients I’ve never even heard of or things we could never get. Look at this one: petals from a white orchid!”

  “There are lots of them on Ellipsis,” Trinka said wistfully. If only she had brought one with her, but then―who knew she would end up in Apostrophe trying to help her cousin brew a potion?

  “Fat lot of good that does us here! Arg!” Jamilah almost threw the book in frustration. “None of these are any good. Hmm… maybe this one.” She ran her fingers down the page. “Yeah, I have that. Mmm, I’m not sure about the praniz though.”

  “Can you get some?”

  “No, but you could.”

  Trinka drew back, puzzled. “How?”

  Jamilah shrugged. “Go to the kitchen and ask the genies for it. You can bring it to me after dinner.”

  The two of them were just taking one last look at the ingredient list, when they heard footsteps tromping down the hall. They sounded angry, and short, and…

  “Quick, get in the closet―it’s Sabirah!” Jamilah grabbed the nearest door, flung it open, and pushed Trinka inside.

  “If she finds us together, she’ll squeal to Mother immediately. Now be quiet!” The closet door slammed shut just as the library door squeaked open, and Sabirah stomped inside.

  “What are you doing in here?” she demanded of her sister. “Are you hiding from me?”

  “Yes!” she answered emphatically.

  Trinka could hear her cousin’s indignant footsteps as she marched over to the chair where her sister was reclining. Trinka put her face closer to the door to listen, then pulled back as her face brushed something tickly. Trinka reached out and ran her hand over the braided silken tassels. It was only a cord. So this was a chute.

  “What’s that?” Sabirah’s voice asked.

  “It’s a book!”

  Trinka could almost hear Sabirah making a face.

  “What do you want books for?”

  “It’s an intellectual pursuit,” Jamilah answered. “Something you wouldn’t know anything about.”

  “I know all about intellectual pursuits,” Sabirah stamped her foot. “I just don’t know what one is!”

  Trinka tried to stifle a giggle, but her hand knocked into the door on the way to her mouth.

  “What was that noise?”

  “My foot,” Jamilah responded, “about to kick you out of here!”

  “You’re hiding something from me, I can tell!”

  Sabirah jumped from her chair, and Trinka heard her footsteps coming toward the door. Desperately, Trinka pulled the cord and uttered the first room that came to her mind.

  “Kitchen!”

  Trinka found the genies in their usual positions―floating near the ceiling, chatting and laughing together, and occasionally whipping up dishes for dinner.

  “Oh, hello,” Galilahi greeted her. She had redone her outfit again, this time with streaming, green bands.

  “Hi. Um, you don’t happen to have any…” she struggled to remember the strange word. “Praniz?”

  The genies began chattering and giggling rapidly. Kimimela took a small bottle shaped like a collection of spheres from a shelf near the ceiling and han
ded it to her.

  “Oh, are you going to make an exploding cake?” Lahishana clapped her hands excitedly.

  “Well, I am going to make a surprise for someone,” Trinka admitted.

  “Oooo!” they all squealed in delight.

  “Oh, would you like us to help?” Nahimana asked eagerly.

  Trinka quickly scanned the dozens of bright eyes that seemed to light up the kitchen with their glow. “No, I think I can handle it,” she said gently. All eyes fell. Alsoome began twisting her scarf in her hands, and Lahishana’s lip trembled noticeably. “But maybe you could make one for dinner,” she suggested quickly. “Surprise Aunt Vashti with it.”

  “Oh!”

  All the genies began scurrying about excitedly, whipping up large, fluffy layers of cake with copious amounts of frosting. As Trinka scurried back to the chute, she could hear loud pops and squeals of delight coming from behind the heavy kitchen doors. Trinka held tightly to the strangely shaped bottle and drew in her breath as smoke began filling the tiny chamber.

  Aunt Vashti certainly wouldn’t be pleased with the genies’ enthusiastic creation, but then again―pop! Trinka squeezed through the ceiling and coughed her way out into the upstairs hall. Since I’m no longer allowed to be near her, I won’t be there to blame.

  Trinka spent the rest of the long afternoon confined to her room, or rather her mother’s old room, but she didn’t really mind. Although she had never appreciated all the silent and solitary reflecting time so valued on Ellipsis, she found it useful now as she pondered various scenarios for getting her mother to remember her and what she would say to her the first time.

  When at last a great “ka-BOOM” resounded from the dining hall, followed by indignant female voices shouting, and then pounding up the stairs, Trinka knew that dessert had been served, and dinner time must be over. She popped her allotted dinner pill into her mouth, then crept softly down the plush hallway and pressed her ear against the door to her cousins’ playroom. She could hear the steady tok-tok-tok of their table ball game. Then, all of a sudden, the rhythmic sound stopped as the ball apparently missed the table and dribbled off across the floor.

  “You missed!” Sabirah’s voice rose in shock. “You actually missed!”

  “So?” Jamilah’s voice retorted.

  “So? I’m winning! I’m really winning!” she shrieked in delight. Then followed uneven footsteps and a thud, proceeded by a screech and yowl. Trinka surmised that her younger cousin must have started a celebration dance.

  “Just go get the ball,” Jamilah’s voice returned. “I’m tired. I’m going to bed early.”

  Trinka flattened herself against the wall as the sound of footsteps came toward the door.

  “You’re just mad because I’m winning!” Sabirah’s voice called after her sister as she stepped into the hall. Jamilah rolled her eyes and slammed the doors behind her.

  Trinka was about to speak as her cousin turned toward her, but Jamilah put her finger to her lips and motioned down the hall. The two walked swiftly and softly for a few paces before Jamilah suddenly burst into a run, her great skirts billowing out behind her. Surprised, Trinka hastened to keep up. The two did not slow down until they had safely rounded the corner and headed into a corridor Trinka had never seen before.

  “Quick, in here,” Jamilah directed. She threw open the double doors nearest them and then quickly closed them behind her after Trinka had stepped inside.

  “I don’t think she followed us,” Jamilah sighed. “Did you get the praniz?”

  Trinka pulled out the strangely shaped bottle and showed it to Jamilah.

  “Phew. I’ve got everything stored in here.” Jamilah hurried over to the large bed in the center of the room.

  “Couldn’t we brew it in my room?” Trinka asked.

  “Too smelly. Besides, no one ever uses this room. It’s only for overnight guests, and we never have any.” She began pulling out glass tubes and strange coils, along with the stash of ingredients that she had hidden under the pillows.

  “I moved everything down here when Sabirah snuck off for a snack,” she explained. “Then when I saw you outside the playroom…”

  Trinka swallowed hard. “You saw me? Then how come Sabirah…”

  “Only with this,” Jamilah shook her head and held out a small locket that hung from her neck. She flipped it open and showed Trinka the glassy blue jewel inside. “When you open it, you see a little picture of whoever is on the other side of the door.”

  A spy charm. They were strictly against the rules on Ellipsis, and it hadn’t occurred to her that they might have such things on Apostrophe.

  Trinka watched as Jamilah carefully mixed and poured, stirred and sprinkled more and more ingredients into the potion. A sweet, heavy stench filled the room.

  “Oh!” Jamilah coughed from the overpowering aroma. “Maybe you should open the door. No, wait!”

  The jewel in the locket suddenly flashed a glowing orange, and two tiny figures appeared in its center.

  “It’s my mother!”

  “And Beatrice.”

  “Here, hold this,” Jamilah handed the potion to Trinka and quickly began scooping everything back to the head of the bed.

  “Where should we hide?” Trinka peered around the room. She wanted to run, but she didn’t have any place to go, and she didn’t dare spill the potion.

  “The closet! Behind you,” Jamilah threw the pillows over the potion materials.

  “It won’t open,” Trinka tried the door knob.

  Wordlessly, Jamilah pulled a long jeweled key from her pocket and shoved it against the lock. The end of the key twisted and fluttered, reforming itself over and over until it finally slid inside and the door clicked open. The two girls hustled inside, careful not to spill the potion, and closed themselves into the darkness.

  Within an instant, the door to the room clicked open, and Aunt Vashti’s voice floated inside.

  ”…in case the bahira wants to lie down. You know how she gets headaches.” She paused and sneezed violently. “What is that smell?” She took out a handkerchief with one hand and reached to straighten the pillows with the other. Both girls held their breath. Another sneezing fit caused her to draw her hand away, however. She looked as if she wanted to say something to Beatrice, but all she could do was gesture vaguely and then stumble toward the bedroom door.

  With twin sighs of relief, Trinka and Jamilah listened and watched in the locket as Vashti hastily left the room. With horror, however, they saw Beatrice coming right toward them. The doors flew open.

  “Ah, ladies,” Beatrice remarked, as if she expected to find them roaming about in guest bedroom closets every day. “This room may be occupied tomorrow, so I suggest you take your activities elsewhere. I will be back within the hour to make sure this room is in perfect order. By then, both of you should be in bed,” she added severely.

  And with that, she was gone.

  Trinka and Jamilah stared at each for a moment.

  “You get your mother, I’ll clean up the potion stuff!” Jamilah whispered.

  “Where is she?”

  “That way! Go out into the garden and up the staircase.”

  Trinka didn’t see how she could creep past the windows without Aunt Vashti or Beatrice seeing her. Still, she hadn’t done this much work just to give in now.

  She slipped downstairs and out into the garden. She wished for a moment she still had the lantern, but fortunately there were lights all along the outside walls of the palace and even the rails of the terrace. Shiny brass brackets with curved edges and sharp points stuck out every few paces, each with a gentle flame flickering above it, making quivering columns of light. She crept carefully up the white stone stairs, and stepped silently onto the tower balcony. But there didn’t seem to be any way into the tower. A row of arched windows curved all along the low wall where benches and chairs stood in quiet groups among small tables and tall, green plants. In the center of the six-sided floor, inlaid stones of light g
old and dark gray formed a large compass.

  Nothing happened. Nothing moved. Trinka felt she would be lost forever in stillness, staring into that empty silence. At last, Trinka turned to go. Or at least she meant to. But it seemed her eyes could not be torn from the sight of that great dark sea. Slowly she heaved her tired legs into action, ready to return to the tower steps.

  But the staircase wasn’t there. Only the low stone wall and a small fruiting tree stood in its place. Trinka leaned over the edge, and peered down at the garden far below. The plants and statues and benches were still there, but the stairs were nowhere in sight.

  Trinka stared in perplexity, when all at once, the stone wall of the building slid open, and Ashira stepped onto the balcony.

  Trinka hung back silently as her mother walked to the edge of the balcony and put her long, smooth hands on the stone railing, her eyes lost on the waves of the distant sea.

  “Mother,” Trinka began, then bit her lip as Ashira turned, her long airy sleeves swirling and slowly fluttering into place. She stared at Trinka vaguely for a moment, then smiled softly.

  “Hello. What can I do for you?” she asked.

  But Trinka found she couldn’t say anything in return. She had never seen her mother so young and pretty, with her dark hair pulled back with lush, red flowers―and she hardly looked more than Annelise’s age. For the first time, even Trinka found it hard to convince herself that this young girl really was her mother.

  Then Trinka felt her mother’s cool hand on the side of her face.

  “Are you all right?” she asked in gentle concern, and all Trinka’s calm, logical plans seemed to melt away. All she wanted to do was collapse in her mother’s arms and tell her everything that was wrong.

  But she couldn’t very well do that until Ashira really was her mother again. Trinka met her mother’s blank but somewhat disturbed-looking eyes as she searched her mind for an answer. It seemed that she had forgotten more than just her family―it was as if she had lost a part of herself as well. Those cool, distant eyes showed none of the verve and snap that Trinka so clearly remembered. Her soft voice lacked the peals of laughter and sparks of fiery temperament that had, in the end, brought her back here.

  “I, I wanted to show you something,” Trinka finally stammered. “It’s inside the palace.”

  Ashira looked only slightly more puzzled than usual, but she complacently turned back toward the tower, and the walls slid aside for them. Trinka followed her into the large, plush room. Her heart skipped with anticipation and anxiousness as she peered into the corridor. It seemed empty, but there was no telling when someone―a genie, Sabirah, Beatrice, or even Aunt Vashti herself―might appear.

  Trinka took a deep breath and hustled her mother into the broom closet.

  “My goodness,” Ashira exclaimed. “I can’t imagine why you wanted me to see this.”

  “I want to show you your old, um, new room,” Trinka explained.

  “It’s awfully small and dark,” she mused.

  “Not here.” Trinka fumbled for the cord in the darkness. “This is just the chute we use to get there. Now when I say ‘second hall closet,’ hold your breath and then exhale when you feel yourself starting to float toward the ceiling, okay?”

  Without waiting for a response, Trinka grasped her mother’s hand tightly and yanked the cord. She sucked in her breath just before the smoke began filling the closet, and could only hope her mother was doing the same. She held her breath until the smoke squeezed her too hard to hold it any longer. She exhaled and, with a pop, stumbled out into the hallway near her quarters. Her eyes were too blurry to make sure no one else was there.

  But no one else was there, she realized. Not even…

  “Mother.”

  Where had she gone? Trinka looked back into the closet, but there was nothing there but the genies’ cleaning supplies and an armless statue of a woman, too old and broken to be on display. Puzzled, Trinka closed the closet door again and stared, frowning, down the hall. Should she go back to the tower and see if her mother had somehow missed the chute altogether? Trinka’s heart jumped as a door clicked open, and she turned, guiltily, to see Jamilah’s head poke out into the hall.

  “Didn’t you find her?” she whispered.

  “Yes, but she got lost in the closet,” Trinka hissed back.

  “What?” Jamilah began, when a pronounced thump sent them both scrambling into hiding. The closet door swung open and Ashira teetered out, coughing daintily but steadily.

  “Is she all right?” Trinka asked anxiously.

  “Of course, you got a little mixed up the first time you went through the chutes, right?”

  “Mmm, my head,” Ashira mumbled softly, putting a long, graceful hand to her forehead.

  “Here, this will help fix it,” Jamilah readily stepped forward with the potion.

  Trinka could hardly bear to watch as her mother took the potion and sipped at it for a moment, then drained the glass. She stood there for a moment with a calm, but far-off, expression on her face, and Trinka slowly began to relax and exhale.

  Until Ashira collapsed.

  “We’ve killed her!” Trinka couldn’t help voicing her first, panicked reaction.

  “Of course not, there’s nothing poisonous in it,” Jamilah scoffed. “And look, she’s still breathing.”

  Trinka was relieved to see that she was.

  “Here, help me carry her.”

  Ashira’s tall, delicate form was a lot heavier than it looked.

  “Couldn’t you have waited till we had her inside the room?”

  “I didn’t know it would happen so fast!”

  Trinka looked around desperately and tried to stay calm enough to think of a plan. If only she could make things float through the air with just a wave of her finger, like the genies did. But she couldn’t, and there was no way she could go to the genies for help without Aunt Vashti finding out everything.

  “Here!” Trinka reached inside the closet and pulled out the long, pink genie scarf caught among the supplies. Instantly, the material slipped through her fingers and began drifting up toward the ceiling. Trinka tried to catch it, but she couldn’t stand up in time without dropping her mother’s head.

  Fortunately, Jamilah, who was a head taller than Trinka, snagged the scarf and brought it back down.

  “Quick, tie this around her waist, and let’s get her out of here.”

  Trinka hurriedly tried to comply, but her fingers kept fumbling, and she couldn’t tie a solid knot for anything. Finally, she just twisted the ends around a few times.

  Slowly, the ends of the scarf began to rise. Jamilah grabbed them and gently pulled Ashira to her feet. Her eyes fell open as her head came forward, and Trinka and Jamilah guided her into the room. She stepped along in a sort of dreamy dance that reminded Trinka of the way they slept suspended in Ellipsis. Together, they gently guided her onto the bed, and Trinka untied the scarf.

  “Come on,” Jamilah whispered.

  “Where?”

  “It’s better to leave her alone. If she sees us, she won’t know who we are because we’re not part of the memory. And then she’ll be really confused!”

  Reluctantly, Trinka eased the door closed until it clicked shut.

  “There’s nothing we can do now. We might as well sleep on it.”

  Trinka’s face whitened. “Where?” My mother’s got my―her―old room back. I can’t very well hide in the closet all night.”

  Jamilah shrugged. “You can stay in my room.”

  Trinka shook her head in confusion. “But then where will you stay? And won’t Sabirah see me?”

  “It’s big enough for two of us,” Jamilah responded as Trinka followed her down the hall. “Sabirah’s got her own bedroom, so she’ll never know. We’re not speaking to each other anyway.”

  The two of them slipped into Jamilah’s room. Jamilah tossed an extra blanket and pillow on the floor. Trinka was so tired, she would have slept on the floor without them. Sh
e couldn’t help being reminded, though, of her time sleeping on the floor in Ampersand with Kolinkar and Tarian, only this bedding was much softer and didn’t smell like goats. As Trinka thought about her brother, she reflected on how important it was for her mother to get her memories back―not just because Trinka wanted to know her again but for her entire family.

  “How will we know if the diary worked?” Trinka asked aloud.

  “Trust me,” Jamilah replied as she flopped back onto her pillows. “We’ll know for sure in the morning.”