Po winced. He felt like taking a bath. When he realized this, he panicked.
Until now, it had been against Po's principles to bathe more than once every two weeks.
"So?" asked Zendrak. "Staying. Or going home?"
Po rubbed his forehead gingerly where Trickster had hit it. Po shrugged.
"Yafatah needs me."
Zendrak raised an eyebrow. "Commitment? Responsibility? Consideration?
All in one clunk on the head?" Zendrak turned to Trickster. "We should all be clobbered on the head by you, Dad. What a time-saver."
"Okay," said Rimble, speaking to the few who remained in Suxonli.
"Kelandris, Himayat, and Zendrak will remain here to guide you." He waved good-bye to his children, who both bowed to him. Grabbing Po by the back of the neck, Rimble and Po disappeared into thin air.
Kelandris and Zendrak burst into laughter. When Rimble had grabbed Po, the little thief's expression was one of sheer contrariness. Grinning, Kelandris said to Zendrak and Himayat, "What an evenly matched pair those two make."
27
On the way to Speakinghast, Rimble dropped by the Feyborne Mountains—literally. The punk Greatkin and Po appeared on a snowbound, craggy mountain ridge. Blowing on the snow as he had done to the recalcitrant villagers in Suxonli, Rimble cleared away the snow in a matter of seconds. There, under the snow, were the winterbloom. They were alive and growing.
Rimble slapped his thigh. "See? An idea whose time has come." Looking heavenward, Trickster yelled, "Take that, Mattie. I won. Na-na-na-na-na,"
he added, doing a little jig in the snow. Without warning an avalanche started in the peaks above them. Rimble's eyes widened. Grabbing Po's hand, he said, "He's got a bad temper, that Mattie. Come on, before he buries us in this muck!"
Po and Rimble disappeared from view again. When they reappeared, they were in Speakinghast just outside the new residence of Rowenaster and the rest of Rimble's Nine. Po stared at the immaculate, pale yellow door. He peered at the sparkling clean windows and the tidy front walk.
"It's even got matching drapes," said Po, his voice incredulous.
"Just your style," Trickster said. "Remember?"
"Oh, yeah. I'm supposed to like this sort of thing now." Funny thing was, in Po's heart of hearts, he found that he did like the clean appearance of the place. Had he felt this way all along? The little thief wasn't sure. Nothing was as it seemed.
"Welcome to Jinnaeon," said Rimble gaily. "Nothing is as it was. Not even you, kiddo."
Po grumbled under his breath. Catching sight of smoke issuing from a neat, brownstone chimney on the slate-blue roof, Po said, "Does this place have a name?"
"Yeah," said Rimble. "Bazaar House. 99 Bazaar House, to be exact."
"Figures," muttered Po, looking at the brass numbers on the front door that read 99. Po took a deep breath. "Might as well go in, I suppose."
Before Podiddley could put his hand on the shiny brass knob of the house, the door opened. It was Themyth. Gone were her rags. Instead, she wore her fantastic coat of tails, her hair neatly coiffed, her age not more than sixty now. She welcomed Rimble and Po graciously. They entered the house and were instantly met by the sound of Janusin lugging a box of sculpting tools out of the kitchen and into the hallway. The master sculptor looked up. Amazed to see Po and Rimble, Janusin yelled, "Hey, look who's here. Po and Rim—"
Po cut him off. "You're going to scratch that nice hardwood floor if you drag the box that way, Jan."
Janusin stared at the frumpy little thief. "Did you say what I think you said?
I mean, since when have you ever cared about any floor?"
Before Po could reply, people poured out of the kitchen. Mab, Tree, Rowenaster, Barlimo, Yafatah, Timmer, and Fasilla made a ring around Po and Rimble. Questions and answers flew back and forth.
Finally Barlimo announced that it was time for high tea.
Po's eyes widened as he walked into the sparkling clean kitchen of Bazaar House. Counters were made of blond wood that had been covered by some kind of newfangled wood protector. The icebox was large, the goods inside neatly packaged and labeled. The pantry was well stocked, Barlimo's herbs hanging in tidy, easily identifiable bunches that hung from the rafters. Not a dish was to be found in the pink marble sink.
"And we aim to keep it that way, Po," said Timmer crisply.
"Of course," replied Po, and meant it.
No one believed him at this time, of course.
Yafatah sidled up to Po. "So you came back. I thought you mightna' do so.
Thought you might run."
"From teaching you?" asked Po. "Nah. Never entered my mind."
Themyth interrupted here. "It's time for a little holiday. A little festival,"
she said warmly. Then without further warning, Themyth shut her eyes and called the Mythrrim Beasts of Soaringsea out of their seclusion. No one save Trickster knew she had done this, however, for Themyth called her children in silence. When Themyth opened her eyes, she found most of the people in the room staring at her expectantly.
Trickster and Themyth burst into laughter.
Fasilla said, "This doon't be a holiday, you sitting with your eyes tight shut."
Themyth began to hum to herself.
"What's she doing?" Timmer asked Mab.
"Don't know," replied the plump Piedmerri, offering herself and Timmer another helping of brown bread with dark honey and butter on it. "Maybe she's playing a trick. After all, Trickster and she did share sheets a week or so ago."
Timmer nodded and munched in silence on her sweet.
Far to the north, on the roof of the world, said some poets of old, the Mythrrim Beasts of Soaringsea heard their mother's call. The gigantic creatures organized themselves briefly with a great deal of squawking and laughter. Then, one by one, they rose into the air, their wings making a thundering noise that traveled for miles. They circled slowly, effortlessly, and wheeled toward the mainland, their direction due southeast.
The Mythrrim Beasts of Soaringsea would arrive in Speakinghast by dawn the following morning. Once there, they would confront staid Saambolin with their impossible existence until the city itself capitulated and admitted that the Mythrrim were in fact real. As were the Greatkin.
28
Kelandris and Zendrak slept that night, wrapped in each other's arms. Kel's face was relaxed, the terrors of her previous years in Suxonli finally laid to rest. Zendrak's breath rose and fell lightly next to her face. All of sudden, Kelandris sat bolt upright. Thinking his sister had just dreamed one of her habitual nightmares, Zendrak started to comfort her. When he saw the wild joy on Kel's face, he stopped.
Then he heard them.
The Mythrrim reached Suxonli at two in the morning, their voices cacophonous and joyful as they conversed on the way to Saambolin.
Grabbing a yellow blanket, Kelandris threw it over her naked body and ran outside. Zendrak covered himself, too, and followed her. They looked up.
Large silhouettes veiled the sky and made strange shadows on the ground in the moonlight. The few villagers who were left in Suxonli came pouring out of their homes. No one screamed in fear; no children cried in horror. In fact, every heart was lifted by the sight of these legendary beasts come home once again.
The Mythrrim were the first teachers of the two-legged races. Memory of the Mythrrim stirred in the generational consciousness that each person inherited from his or her respective landdraw. Smiles became radiant as the creatures passed overhead. People danced and turned for joy. Standing close, Kelandris snuggled next to Zendrak. He kissed the top of her head and murmured, "Won't Speakinghast be surprised."
Rimble-Rimble.
The Mythrrim Beasts of Soaringsea flew into Speakinghast in silence at dawn. They landed on the grounds of the Great Library, folding their wings neatly beside them. They tucked their ugly heads under their wings and slept. The Mythrrim were so motionless in their sleep that they resembled the black glass statue of a Mythrrim that lay in
the heart of the Great Library Maze. Indeed, when early morning students cut across the snowy grounds, they thought the Mythrrim were inanimate. Hearing student conversation, the eldest Mythrrim of all, Kindra, lifted her head. The Saambolin and Dunnsung students present shrieked and ran. In no time at all, word of the sleeping Mythrrim spread about town. Hundreds of people flocked to see the great creatures, keeping a safe distance as they ogled.
The Mythrrim paid the students and residents of the city no attention.
Instead, they began their morning toilet, cleaning and ruffling their splendid feathers and striped hides.
As the morning before—Gadorian loved routines—the guildmaster was eating a coddled egg when a guildguard knocked sharply on his door.
Sirrefene went to open it, her face puffy from crying. Sirrefene and her husband had been arguing since daybreak over Gadorian's action against the Kaleidicopia. The guildguard bowed to her awkwardly and hurried into the kitchen, where Gadorian sat hunched over the table.
"The Mythrrim are here, sir."
Gadorian yawned. "More rumors from the Kaleidicopians?"
"I don't know what you mean, sir." He paused, licking his lips nervously.
This conversation with the guildmaster was going to be more difficult than he had imagined. "But I do know this, sir—the Mythrrim Beasts of Soaringsea are sitting on the grounds of the "Great Library."
Sirrefene smiled, her expression unexpectedly relieved.
Gadorian stared at the guildguard. "Have you been sipping ale this early in the morning, Captain?"
The guildguard stiffened. "I certainly have not, sir. Well, suit yourselves.
I've just come from the grounds myself. So I'm giving you a firsthand report. Don't say you weren't told." He bowed to both and left the opulent residence of the guildmaster and master curator.
Sirrefene regarded her husband steadily. "It's not like Captain Besredd to drink or lie, Gad. What do you think he saw?"
"Don't know," replied the guildmaster, taking a bit of egg. "Don't care, either. One thing's for sure—the Mythrrim are beasts of fantasy. Not of fact. Maybe Besredd had a bad dream—"
"Don't you think we should investigate?"
"You can if you want, Sirrey. Me, I'm going to have my breakfast in peace."
Master Curator Sirrefene reached for her woolen maroon cape which hung on a peg in the hallway. "The library and its grounds are my responsibility. See you for lunch," she added coldly.
Then she left the house.
As Master Curator Sirrefene walked outside, she was buffeted by a cold blast of winter wind. Pulling her cape close, she trudged through last night's snowfall and turned right. As she hurried along the city streets, she saw hundreds of people running toward the Great Library.
"Presence alive," Sirrefene muttered to herself. "Has my time finally come?
Imagine that."
By the time Sirrefene arrived, the sun had already risen and Professor Rowenaster was well on his way to classes. Also seeing hordes of people running and jumping through the snow to get to the Great Library, he was perplexed. He decided to pay the Great Library a visit himself.
An extraordinary sight met his eyes.
Several hundred Mythrrim were ringed by several thousand people. Everyone stood or sat in silence, even the baby Mythrrim. Rowenaster put his hand to his heart in wonder. Here were the teachers he had always longed to see.
Zendrak's brief shape-change into a Mythrrim several weeks ago had only whet the old man's appetite for knowledge of ancient things and ways.
Tears rimmed his eyes as he crept forward. Students made way for the old man. Several of them thought Rowenaster might be responsible for bringing the beasts to Speakinghast; the old man had been known to employ wild teaching methods in his classroom during the past few years.
Rowenaster approached the Mythrrim cautiously.
Kindra eyed him. When he was within ten feet of her, she said, "Welcome, Professor. We were told to look for you. And now we see that you're here.
Please, don't be afraid. We ate before flying last night. And we don't eat two-leggeds, anyway. Only horses and the occasional bear."
The crowd murmured, clearly shocked at Kindra's clear speech.
Kindra, who was as tall as a medium-sized dinosaur, looked out over the heads of the people gathered around the Mythrrim. Seeing the rest of the members of Bazaar House approaching—including Themyth and Rimble—the Mythrrim Beast began to purr. It was a deafening sound, rumbling and echoing throughout the streets. The crowd backed up.
Kindra's tail thumped the ground in doglike greeting to her Greatkin mother and father. Her own biological parents were among the Mythrrim present.
She grinned at Trickster.
"And now we make kinhearth."
Trickster prodded Yafatah to the front. The young girl's eyes were wide and full of awe. Trickster pointed to a small sack she carried carefully in her hands. "Take out the candles," he told her.
Yafatah did as she was bid. Slowly she pulled out eight candles. Kindra watched her do so with great interest. When all the candles and candlesticks had been accounted for, Kindra spoke with surprise.
"Where is the candle for the Mayanabi, child?"
Yafatah held up the seventh candle. "Here."
"Well, you can't have forgotten the Presence."
"Oh, no," agreed Yafatah, holding up the eighth candle for Kindra to see.
"Here it be."
Kindra squawked. "Have you a candle for each of the landdraws?"
"Yes. Here be the six—"
"Six?" said a chorus of Mythrrim voices.
Kindra bent down, her large mouth close to Yafatah's head. "Did you forget us, child?"
Yafatah swallowed. "The Mayanabi ritual only calls for eight candles. Not nine. At least, that do be what Po told me—"
"Po?" asked Rowenaster, starting to laugh. "Po doesn't know—"
At this point, Podiddley cut in. Putting his hands on his hips, he yelled at the Mythrrim and at the rest of his housemates. "The Mayanabi ritual called for eight candles. Not nine. I don't know when it got changed. Maybe centuries ago. Alls I know is that I didn't fuck with it."
"He's quite right," said Themyth quietly. "The current Mayanabi ritual of light calls for eight candles." Themyth sighed. "See what happens when people toy around with a perfectly good ritual? Leaves out things.
Important things." Themyth held her hand up. Instantly another candle and candlestick appeared in her palm. She handed it graciously to Yafatah.
"Thank you," said the young girl, her face solemn.
Satisfied, Kindra directed Po and several other people to make a kind of table out of snow. Yafatah put the candles on the table and lit them. The last candle for the Presence she placed on a handful of snow near the back.
Like the candle to God in Milwaukee, this candle also sat a little higher than the rest.
When Yafatah had finished arranging and lighting the candles, she turned to Kindra and said, "Why do we be doing this?"
"We're making kinhearth, child—two-legged fashion. In our own land, we sit around a blazing pit fire. Here on the mainland, we do it differently for all your sakes. Here we honor each landdraw. We light a candle for that draw and place it on the same table. This is for peace, child. Do you understand this word 'peace'?"
"Of course!" retorted Yafatah. "I doon't be a baby! I be sixteen!"
The Mythrrim roared and cackled with laughter. Their average life span was three to four thousand years. A girl of sixteen was a newborn to them.
Kindra flapped her wings with hilarity. When she had regained control of her humor, she smiled at Yafatah and said, "You're very bright for one so young. And so we shall test you, yes?"
Yafatah hadn't expected this. She shifted weight uneasily, stuffing her gloved hands deep inside her scarlet cloak. "I didna' know I was in school,"
she grumbled.
Rowenaster interrupted here. "We're all in school in the presence of the Mythrri
m Beasts of Soaringsea."
"Shit," said Po. "That's no mistake."
Kindra cocked her head to the side dog fashion and said, "Tell me what peace is."
"It be the opposite of war," said Yafatah.
"Is it?"
Yafatah pondered the question. "Peace be when you feel all comfortable and friendly. When you doon't wish to fight or fuss."
Kindra shook her head. "Peace is accommodation. It is the stretching one makes to understand one's friends and one's housemates. It is not weak or spineless. Peace is a quality of the Presence. It is a Greatkin who is seldom invoked in this turbulent time, this Jinnaeon. Would you care to hear this Greatkin's name?" asked Kindra.
Rowenaster smiled. He knew the name.
Yafatah nodded.
Kindra spoke softly. "She dresses in beauty, she walks in harmony, and she offers a tolerant love to all she meets. Her name is Universalima. And as we speak her name, she comes."
Themyth and Rimble watched the approach of their silent sister with smiles and whispers. This Greatkin had sat through the whole Panthe'kinarok dinner without saying a word. While Mattermat and Rimble had quarreled, she sat in utter stillness. Now that an accommodation for her was being made in the world of Mnemlith, she responded by appearing to all present on the Great Library grounds. Universalima wore white furs and a crown of gold, her dark skin and dark hair startling against the white of her furs. Like Rimble and Troth, Universalima was a resident of Neath. She was also a resident of Speakinghast.
Rowenaster's jaw dropped. He could barely say the word that came to his stunned lips. "Sirrefene?"
Master Curator Sirrefene smiled at the open-mouthed crowd in front of her.
"Yes. It's me. The real Sirrefene died some years ago. Gadorian had been sweet on Sirrefene since childhood. Before he was able to ask the real Sirrefene to marry him, she contracted Hatter's Disease from a Jinnjirri hat she bought here in the city. She died from it." Turning to Rowenaster, Universalima said, "This was before the fateful 'affair' with the Jinn artist.
See, I was the libertine. Not Sirrefene. Not that I slept with the man, mind you. But I was different in temperament than the good guildmaster family's daughter. People felt that and thought what they wished, but I digress.
Trickster's Touch Page 19
