by Kamilla Reid
Festa’s smile faded. “You have nothing?”
Lian grasped. “Well, back at my camp I have some…” then he reconsidered, feeling ridiculously incompetent, certain that Festa would see his work as utter nonsense. Like his own father had. “Nothing.” He whimpered.
Festa’s eyes narrowed as they fell upon the pile beside Lian. “You come here and load up on my people’s hard work and expect to walk away?”
“I’m sorry…I…I thought they were gifts.”
“Gifts! We are generous, yes but you have so much as to barely see the top of your head!”
“I…I’m sorry…I…”
But now Festa was taking things back and Lian’s shamed eyes were tearing. Festa said nothing as he snatched his treasures one by one. In his astounding embarrassment Lian leaped up and fumbled awkwardly to give back the last item, the Oculus.
In the next instant, unexpectedly Festa’s eyes became black with rage.
“What…what is it?” Lian said, stepping slowly back.
“The Oculus has found a spy.” Festa seethed.
Lian looked to where Festa’s glare had fallen, upon the glowing eye of the Oculus. He saw the image that flickered from its hollow centre and gasped.
Festa grabbed it from him and roared. “Guards!”
20
PUNISHMENT
The Sage Mother was practically afloat in her new pajamas, somehow changed, as if a hundred of her years had been freed of gravity. Plying the Hemostylus, she’d conjured up a material so ethereal, Root was sure it had tapped into actual stardust and moonbeam.
From behind a curtain Fawn was giggling. Then she too glided weightlessly into view. She looked so radiant, so godly Root caught her breath.
The dress danced from her like autumn leaves skimming a crystal blue sea, with mermaids and song in the seams and lining. She drifted along the floor as light on water, leaving a salted fragrance in her wake.
The three of them breathed it all in. It had been a lovely morning. Around them on the floor their tea had become cold and a small table of food sat barely explored save for the plate of chocolate. Chocolate pebbled in exotic spices. The best chocolate Root had ever tasted in her entire life and would ever taste again, she was sure.
Fawn fell into a cushion beside the old woman and began a heartfelt plea. The language was too fast for Root to follow but she grasped that there was deep love between them as they spoke. At last the Sage Mother nodded and smiled with an affectionate sigh. The girl leapt up, kissed her cheek and ran for the door. She turned back and planted Root with two cheek kisses then ran for the door again, bubbling with excitement. The door closed with a happy bang.
The Sage Mother sunk happily into the lap of her cushions. Root sighed contentedly. All awkwardness between them was gone. What fun they’d had. She began to pick up their cups and the small plates of chocolate crumbs.
“Fa, Root Karbunkulus. Fa.”
Root looked up to see the Sage Mother gesturing her closer. She approached and kneeled at her feet, noticing for the first time the nails buffed in jeweled powders. The old woman’s hands reached up and found the amber globe that still hung in crystal around Root’s neck. Her ancient fingers stroked it and held it firmly as if it were telling her a story. Then she rose and pulled Root with her.
Though her eyes saw nothing she walked with ease and confidence to the exact spot she had aimed herself, a train of paintings that meandered from the wall. Her ringed fingers went straight for one, pulled it out and held it up for Root.
“Oh my goodness.” Root could hardly muster words.
Two women and a baby were in the painting. The first woman was the Sage Mother, her floor length hair braided back with ruby clips, the sun spilling onto her lined face. She was giving something to the other woman. Root’s necklace! Then Root’s breath seized as she looked at the other woman. Long hair, molten black with a moonbeam of silver streaking through it. The babe in her arms had a sweet tuft of pumpkin-gold hair.
Root’s eyes prickled. She could find no sound. Her throat had tangled into a tight knot.
“My…my mother…?” She said at last with scrapes of loss in her voice. “But…do you know…do you know if she…I mean…did you see what happened to her?”
The Sage Mother sensed Root for a long time before she decided to pull out another painting.
The floor fell out from Root. Her heart with it.
The violence and destruction in the painting was practically alive. It made Root stand back and cover her mouth. She saw the charred remains of houses, smoke billowing into a dark and flaming sky. And the fleeing, desperate faces of men and women and children. Black ghosts of armor hunted them from the tarred thrones of beasts and blood poisoned the land at their feet, the same of which seemed to seep from the canvas as if Death couldn’t be contained in its space. Once again the great shadows of fear and grief arrived at Root’s threshold. They came with her heart lynched in a rope. But this time she didn’t swallow them away. She couldn’t anymore. Her throat was too small. Truth had shrunk her. She had known her mother had sacrificed her life for Root. But to see the way in which she had suffered…
“I…I see…” Root managed.
And then the pain erupted. Fifteen years of loneliness, an abyss of grief. The veil of armor shed from her eyes.
Root fell, sobbing into the old woman’s arms. The Sage Mother held her and said nothing.
When Root woke up she was lying in a bed of cushions. Her eyes were empty, having drained their last bits into the pillow. She had dreamed of a faceless murderer. A black hearted coward. And now awake she knew who he was. Kakos. The Murk Lord. Slaughterer of the innocent. Root felt a hot sickness in her gut and in that instant she knew she was part of this world. A child of DréAmm. Part of its pain, its loss. Part of its plot for revenge. She looked up into the eternal face of the Sage Mother who nodded and gestured toward a steaming cup. It was not tea, it was Chorm and it was welcomed like an old friend.
When Root had half finished her cup, the old woman, having said nothing the whole time, handed her a gift. It was a mechanical device, square and purple with gold trimming.
“Brotswin…” the old woman said “..Is for memories.”
Root looked at the instrument. It was a camera of some sort. She smiled. Yes, that was exactly what she needed. To escape the dead-eye of the past. She needed to capture new memories.
“Thank you.” She was about to throw her arms around the Sage Mother when a harsh rap came from the door. It was loud enough to feel threatening and yet the old woman held no fear. She went to answer while Root held back near the ivory fireplace.
The Sage Mother was met by Festa. Rage kinked up his eyes and his cheeks were full-blooded.
“We have been betrayed!” he said and pushed, of all people, Dwyn Puffler forward, his feet and hands chained. Two guards flanked him. Root started for him but the bones of the Brine Demon crossed her path.
Festa launched into an Ekladian tirade, pacing and gesturing to Dwyn as he disclosed the offense to the Sage Mother. Root looked at Dwyn for an explanation but he merely returned a sheepish shrug. It was some time before Root realized that Lian had arrived with them. She saw him then choking back a fair share of humiliation. She could only imagine what Dwyn had done.
“What say you to this, Sage Mother?” Festa demanded, now returned to the door and crossing his arms. He looked too big for the frame now. The spill of words had pumped him up full.
“Mmmmmmmm” the Sage Mother said. Throughout Festa’s rant she had lit incense and sat upon her cushions in silence and now the room was sweet with roses.
Dwyn was thrown forward again, this time landing on the floor, his two guards not missing a beat as the swords crossed once more. Lian found his way to Root as Festa propelled his anger again, following the Sage Mother around while she took to the menial task of making tea.
Though the words were fast and furious Lian could gather a semblance of understanding, which he inte
rpreted for Root.
“He caught Dwyn spying.”
“Spying? On what?”
“More like who.” Lian said and in that moment the door opened and Fawn walked in, mermaid kissed with autumn leaves and the sea shimmering in her eyes. The warm water of High Basin dripped from her like honey. She had been hastily wrapped in a blanket and would not look at Dwyn. Her mother, Wintra came in behind her.
“Oh.” Root was not impressed in the least.
The Sage Mother turned to Festa. “Eltaprin ist depruva.”
Festa looked at his wife who nodded. He glanced at his daughter and then at Dwyn still sitting on the floor. His teeth grit. He breathed like a winded stallion. “Oma.” He said at last. Fine. He stepped from the glare of the offence into the calmer waters near his wife.
“They’re going to let Fawn decide on a punishment.” Lian whispered to Root.
The room held its breath while Fawn waved the swords away and instructed the guards to allow Dwyn to his feet. A part of her, the small part wanted revenge and had already envisioned Dwyn standing alone in nothing but his skin while she and her girlfriends teased and flicked at his dignity. Perhaps then he could see what it was like. But then she saw Dwyn winning them over, rising to the occasion with stunts of charm, a wiggle here, a dance there. These were but games and not the way of her soul. The larger part of her. The part of her that was claiming its throne for the first time.
Dwyn had risen and faced her, the expected sparkle of mischief in his eyes. Already leaning deep into his charm. She suspected it was an old standby that worked every time with other girls. But to Fawn this was not about Dwyn. She bunted his arrogance far away into a field of nothingness. She walked closer to him and locked her deep dark eyes upon his. This was about her. A Tribal Queen. A Seer. A young woman of ancient blood.
Dwyn looked back at Fawn. His eyes jested and shrugged sheepishly. Boys will be boys he offered in his glance, awaiting the coy aversion of her eyes. The win. But the girl did not budge. The pools of her eyes stayed with him, searching for something. Dwyn shifted. He smiled. A mischievous cherub. Surely the girl could see his innocence. But her face gave no such slack. And Dwyn began to feel flushed. He could see himself in her eyes. He was a boy to her. A simple, crude boy. His own eyes flashed. Who was she to look at him this way? She was just a girl playing princess. He glared back at her.
Fawn would not blink.
The fight in Dwyn’s glare fell, deflated in the girl’s calm stance. She was not battling him. What was she doing? This time he took purpose into his search. He looked deeper into the calm waters of this girl. And then he saw what she’d wanted him to see.
She was not a girl at all. She was a Tribal Queen. A Seer. A young woman of ancient blood.
It was Dwyn’s eyes that averted. To the floor, mischief replaced by regret. He dropped to one knee. And bowed his head. When he looked up, Fawn saw the true Dancer in his eyes.
“Please forgive me.” He said.
The Sage Mother smiled to herself. Well done. Festa nodded. Wintra’s arm wrapped in her husband’s with a sigh.
Fawn offered her hand and brought Dwyn to his feet. “Ashwain.” She said and in a flash the swords sliced open the chains from Dwyn’s limbs.
“Ungara.” Festa said. “You may go.”
Root and Lian waited for Dwyn at the door. As he turned to leave, something dropped out of his pocket. The Tempometre remote cracked the floor and spun away into the swift clutches of Festa. “What is this?” He inspected it.
“Nothing!” Lian ran for it, utterly embarrassed. “It’s worthless!”
Festa held it up into better light.
“Seriously, it’s a piece of junk. We would never even think to insult you with such…”
“You have been holding out on me.” Festa said now scrutinizing some of Skubblenob’s intricacies.
“No, trust me, it’s…”
“I will give you the Oculus for this…what do you call it?”
“It’s a Tempometre. Supposedly a heat indicator for finding things. But it doesn’t work! It’s…”
“And the Pansy Path!” Festa bartered.
“No, it’s…”
“You drive a hard bargain, Valadors. Fine I will give you the Ekladian Ruge as well.”
“But…”
“And the Snooce and the Kaleye.”
In their final farewell, the Valadors were piled with Ekladian treasures and Festa would not hear another word out of Lian. The Sage Mother’s laughter followed them in a whisper through the treetops.
21
CPR
Hovermutts aren’t really cutout for positions of leadership. Left alone they’re pretty much reduced to the lowest common denominator. In this case the CowPigRodent, who had discovered the goodies of the travel pack early on and was now chomping and swallowing the last of them with great enthusiasm. Obviously, Lian’s skunking defense hadn’t worked.
While Stogie, Hana and Pilsnips hadn’t fallen so low as to chomp the unchompable (i.e. mechanical devices), the unchompable had found their way snapping and cracking into the jaws of CowPigRodent, who was not about to let such good edibles go to waste.
This is how the Valadors found them. Full and content, each to its own fireside bed, remains of bones and crumbs and powders and thingies beneath them, the crunching and cracking still in their teeth. CowPigRodent’s actual body was still halfway in the Travel pack, snorting and smacking, its tail a wagging flagpole of glee.
Lian dropped his load and ran like a madman, screaming and yanking the beds from under them. The Hovermutts escaped, barely, into surrounding trees. From there, even the drooping of their tails and ears would not win Lian over. He was way past any ‘cute defense’. So for now, at least until his normal face color returned, they would wait in the safety of their branched heights.
All but one. Lian turned his ire toward the oblivious invader who was now three quarters inside the Travel Pack.
Root and Dwyn arrived first. Root took the legs while Dwyn took the end of the Travel Pack and together they slowly managed to pull the union apart. CowPigRodent surfaced with Lian’s Sea light in its jaws.
Lian yelped and was on the creature instantly. “Stupid, dumb…!” He desperately tried to pry the teeth apart but they were in lock down with no intention of surrender. He grabbed his precious Sea light and pulled.
‘Tug o war’ blinked across the animal’s brain and at once it yanked back, its tail waving even faster now.
“This isn’t a game, you stupid, ugly, rotten…!” Lian pulled harder. The battle waged for several more intense minutes. The angrier Lian got, the more the game pleased the CowPigRodent. It even took to shaking its quarry, which practically emptied Lian’s arm sockets. The creature was strong to be sure. Surely, if this kept up the Sea Light would be ripped in two, not to mention Lian. But neither party would yield and this made Lian steam.
Squeak!
Uh?
Lian flew back, slimy wet Sea Light in his grip. CowPigRodent’s ears pricked as it scanned for the location of the curious sound. Root held the squeaky toy above her head and squeezed again. The animal galomped over and sat at her feet with an all too familiar sit stand sit stand tail wag dance.
“No!” she said, using the toy as leverage. “You’re a bad….” She looked down. “…girl! Bad girl! Now you go lie down!”
A tilt of the head. Sit stand sit stand. Lick.
“No!” Root repeated. “Go lie down.” “Go!” “Lie down!” ”Go!”
This went on way past anything reasonable. Finally Dwyn just grabbed the toy and threw it as far as he could down into the valley. The creature was gone. But leading the way was Stogie, intent on finding his Squeaky-Love first.
It would be hours before Stogie and the ugly thing would return, which suited everyone just fine for that was how long it took to clean up and salvage what little they could of their supplies. They couldn’t even find consolation in the many Ekladian treasures for, of them Li
an had limited knowledge and more importantly, none were edible.
As evening fell, Dwyn molded again and took to find food. He preferred the gentle nature of a bear with its swift paw in a shallow river of fish. The idea of chasing and hunting didn’t quite sit with him. Root and Lian got a fire roaring and waited anxiously for Dwyn’s return. When he did, he was empty handed. The river had yielded nothing and he had lost patience. They sat for a long time, trying to ignore the rumbling and squirming of their empty stomachs.
It was Root who remembered the Hemostylus but this she very quickly regretted when she saw how little ink was left.
“You used it on dresses?” Lian asked astonished. “For who? The entire Ekladian caravan?”
“No! Just for the Sage Mother…and Fawn…and…well, Fawn’s mother…”
“And?”
“And that’s all. There wasn’t much left to begin with!”
“So you wasted what little was left on…on fashion?” Dwyn chimed in, his aching stomach dictating.
“It wasn’t fashion! It was…friendship…and it was a good thing, too or else we wouldn’t have made it out of there alive, thanks to you, Peeping Pervert Pig!”
“We made it out just fine.”
“Because the Sage Mother liked me.”
“Well, I would too if I’d gotten a whole new wardrobe for free!” Lian balked.
“It was one nightgown! Which is a pretty good trade off for freedom, if you ask me!”
Silence punctuated the end of the conversation. Obstinate and moreover starving, Root took the Hemostylus and scribbled on scraps of parchment from the travel pack’s leftovers. Soon a somewhat deformed plate of steaming Olgabelly chops lay in front of her. She had included green peas and mashed sweet potatoes with cinnamon syrup.
Drool fell in buckets. There was no turning back. Minutes later, Dwyn sat down to a full roasted hen with mac ‘n cheese and Lian went fork crazy over his all time fave, Torko potpie.
