by Kamilla Reid
“No CPR! You can’t come with me.”
Root had CPR’s leash triple wound and knotted when she left for the second time. She tried to ignore the awful whimpering behind her and prayed she wouldn’t suffer through howling.
Not to be.
CPR’s howling continued even as Root reached the imposing double doors of Vulcherk and Co. She blocked poor CPR out of her mind and took a deep breath. The doors were tinted dark, like the windows, the familiar silver ‘V’ dominating. Once close enough the ground beneath took over, moving her along with other patrons as objects on an assembly line. They glided right through the doors, which opened with a shwish. When the trundling stopped Root stepped off and looked up.
Woah.
Vulcherk’s was impressive to be sure. A massive, gleaming silver ‘V’ glowed from its plot in the dark marble flooring. The whole of the building seemed to spread for days. But it was not the size. It was the chaos. Staircases everywhere. Hundreds of them magically moving about, crisscrossing and swerving and diving. Each one loaded with shoppers and taking them to their designated floors. And, no doubt about it, there were many, many floors. Root could see an endless stack of departments: garmentry, gadgets, stationary, furnishings. On and on. Each floor with a balcony that wrapped around the circumference of the store. Some of the balconies even jutted out in places for displays and sale items.
Root had no idea where to start. Eventually she decided the best place was probably the signpost that stood in the centre of the main floor, a marvel that it hadn’t been knocked down by all the flying staircases. It towered high above, wrapped in a tornado of signage, hundreds of arrows pointing every which way. Floor one, Seasonal. Floor two, Mystics. Three, Zoo Supplies. Four, Magic Muses. Root took a step forward only to be nearly bowled over by a renegade staircase headed for the Staff Room floor. Root watched the staircase pull up and empty its fleet of passengers.
Except these weren’t ordinary passengers.
It really shouldn’t have come as a surprise but Root’s mouth fell open anyhow. Squawnches. She looked at them. Blue skin, wiry hair wrapped in little white dumbbell bones, bristle tufted ears and the standard two-foot height. Squawnches. Everywhere. Hard to miss now as she realized they were all dressed in black uniforms with the standard gothic ‘V’ printed on the backs and fronts. Sure, these employed Squawnches were a little less Squawnch looking…uniforms did that…and it was nice to see that none had Wingers with which to fly…but they were Squawnches nonetheless and Root felt instant distrust.
“Can you be help-ed, o miss?” A little blue brute was right in front of her now. She looked down. It was a male Squawnch, blinking with the familiar runny egg eyes, smiling with the familiar moldy teeth. Or in this case, tooth.
“I…I’m…” Root couldn’t find a single word that wouldn’t be offensive.
“Garmentry?”
She shook her head.
“Beautifying Boutique?”
Another shake of the head.
“The restroom, o miss?”
“No…I…”
“Or perhaps some refreshment in the Cooking Court?”
Yes, that was exactly what she needed. A place to sit and get her bearings over a nice drink. She nodded. “Sure, I could…”
The Squawnch whistled. A staircase zipped over. It seemed most excited, like today was its first day of staircase work and it wanted to impress. It abruptly halted its lower step, causing the remaining steps to crash into each other like dominoes. When they reformed, Root saw that the staircase wasn’t actually connected. It was a series of short black planks, tiered consecutively with nothing but air keeping them together. Air or some sort of invisible magic.
“Cooking Court” the Squawnch ordered and gestured to Root. “Watch your steppers, o miss.”
Root stepped onto the first step of the keener staircase and without any benefit of railing to brace, found herself immediately teetering and flailing her arms as it spun her from the entrance foyer to the left, to the right, another left, skirting a crosswise staircase, (this with a gaggle of people heading for a sale)…and then up, up, up to the 21st floor of Vulcherk and Co. Root wrapped herself around the plank nearest her and hung on for dear life.
She hardly managed to read the ‘Cooking Court’ sign when the staircase seemed to screech to a stop and Root, like the rest of its steps was plowed forward. She landed on a welcome mat that floated in the air, just in front of an archway with various ‘cooking court’ edibles sculpted along its top.
Beyond the arch, tables and chairs staggered about forming a sort of circle around a clutch of greasy, steaming food stands. Behind each seedy counter was a Squawnch or two in hairnets. Actually cooking. Root had no idea what, but no one seemed to be complaining. Perhaps she’d become too spoiled at Gub. She settled at one stall that offered “Fresh Fixins” and the most hygienic looking clerk of the Squawnch lot, paid for combo number two, then faced the task of finding a clean table.
She found one close to the archway where she could look down upon the whole of Vulcherk’s massive, bustling enterprise. But it was not what she saw that shocked her next. It was what she heard.
27
PASSWORDS AND PAYMENT
Elwandria Suits was sucking out the last bits from a cob of corn. She cared not one iota that half of it was still clinging to her teeth. It was darn good corn.
“You gonna eat yours?” she asked her tablemate.
“Generally if one buys something to eat, they intend to eat it, Elwandria.” came the reply.
“Well, you don’t have to be so snarky about it!”
“If you had been stuck with three hellions for weeks on end, you’d be snarky too!”
“I was stuck, Ginovane. Literally stuck. In the deadly amber of hulking black trees in the middle of the Swamps of Koik! So, don’t tell me I don’t have a right to be snarky!”
“Maybe so but there’s no way your team was as bad as mine. Mine were downright evil.”
“Well, mine were downright evil in Pink clothing, ‘specially the leader, a potty mouthed princess wannabe. I should’ve dumped their butts a long time ago. Don’t know why I waited so long. One can only take so much snot-mouthed abuse before one says, “That’s it! I quit! You’re on your own, punks!” which is of course what I did in the end. You gonna eat that corn?”
“At least yours were still goin’ by the rules…”
“Somewhat.”
“Well, were they leading you into Dark Arts?”
Elwandria sucked in an audible breath. “No!”
“Oh yes!” Ginovane amped the dramatics. “Tried t’get me onto the zero-th floor, right here in Vulcherk’s! That dank and evil place where who knows what breeds!”
“Holy Kadoodles, Ginovane! What did they want?”
“Wouldn’t say. But I wanted no part of it anyhow. I’ll not cheat my way through this Quest, I told them.”
“And wha’d they say?”’
“Well, it was just one…a punk leader like yours. Big-mouthed little cretin. Said ‘fine, then hit the road!’ right to my face!”
“No!
“Oh yes!”
“Then what?”
“Well, then…I guess I hit the road, seeing as I’m here with you now.”
“Right.”
There was a pause.
“You gonna eat that corn?”
“I tell ya, Elwandria, I’m glad I ran into you ‘cause I wanted t’strangle the insolent brat! Even now I’m not sure I shouldn’t tell the Quest Committee. I mean dabbling in the Dark Arts was a definite no-no in the Guidebook. And this creepy kid knew way too much about it. Even figured out Vulcherk’s password t’get in. It’s scary. Someone could get seriously hurt.”
“Well, why don’t you tell the Guardian?”
“Yeah, maybe I will.”
“You gonna eat that corn?”
“So, where’s your team now?”
“Well, last time I looked, they were prancing their prize all aro
und town, they were! Buncha pink braggarts.”
“You mean they got a HaloEm Quill?”
“Correction. I got it!”
“What? How?”
“In the White Woods. Wasn’t anything impressive, trust me. My team just tailed another team. Found ‘em climbin’ the steep side of the White Cliffs. With no skill or nothin’, not an ounce of climbing magic…But obviously there was a reason for that and so we just hid ourselves and waited. It was really slow going and painful to watch. But gradually the other team started getting closer t’something. And the closer they got, the more it revealed itself. Eventually we could see what it was. It was a nest! A HaloEm nest!”
“No!”
“Oh yes! It’d been Hidden but somehow this team learned of it and ‘cause it was past Hover bounds, they were climbin’ all by themselves t’get it. And it looked like they might actually succeed. But then, my snotty pink leader says ‘stay put’ to us and takes off. When she gets back, she’s got a cannon. A cannon, Ginovane!”
“No!”
“Oh yes!”
“I don’t believe it! Of all things…I have to say, that was pretty smart actually.”
“It was; there’s no denying. But still I felt kind of bad exploding past the other team and snatching the Quill on my descent. They’d worked so hard. On a good note, I broke my cannonballing record. I think it’s the way I tucked my head in differently.”
Another pause. Elwandria and Ginovane didn’t notice the girl in the red cloak sitting beside them, leaning in so much she looked like she might fall off her chair.
“And what about your team, Ginovane? Where d’y’suppose they are now?”
“Oh, for all I know they’re still here, lurking about on that black and godless Dark Arts floor.”
“No!”
“Oh yes! Well, the brat at least. I just left ‘em all when I ran into you! And a good thing, too!”
Another pause, this one filled by the scuffing of a chair beside them. The two women caught the back of Root’s cloak as she rounded the food court arch.
“Hmmm.” Elwandria said after a while.
“Hmmm what?”
“That girl. She looked familiar.”
“Mmmm.”
“D’ya think she’s gonna finish off her corn?”
At the railing of the twenty-first floor Root skidded her feet. Her staircase was still waiting at the dock, empty and ‘twiddling its steps’. It hadn’t been called away, yet.
“The Zero-th floor!” Root said.
The steps backed up. They shook as if saying ‘no’.
“Wha’dya mean, no? You can’t say no! I’m a paying customer!”
The stairs stood trembling and for a moment she couldn’t believe that she felt sympathy for a set of flying wood pieces. But it was clear this staircase was freaked out.
“Look, I know you’re new and all.”
The steps nodded.
“But I really need to get there.” She said though feelings of doom crept in as she envisioned the Dark Arts floor.
More trembles.
“ Okay, listen. If you take me there, I promise I will put in a good word for you.”
A hesitant pause.
“And…and…and I will make sure you get promoted for such great service…the best service I have ever had!”
The stairs seemed to think about it. So did Root actually. She couldn’t imagine what kind of promotion would be in store for a staircase. Maybe just the fancy floors? Or the easy ones? Regardless, the bid wasn’t quite working. The stairs looked to be heading toward doubt. Root had to ante up a bit more sway. She went for a sympathy vote - sad eyes, trembling lips, the works.
“Please. I…I really need this. Someone could get seriously hurt if I don’t get there and stop it.”
It was probably a bit overdone but whatever, it worked. Besides, it wasn’t like it wasn’t true. At any rate, the staircase seemed to sigh resignedly. It moved closer and butted up against the floor. Root stepped aboard and tried to keep on her feet as it criss-crossed the store, barely missing other stairs and angry customers. She was moving up. Way up. As in the very top floor. Eventually there were no other staircases. The light grey walls grew darker as they reached further heights. And nearer as if closing in on them. It was then that Root realized they had entered the store’s giant spire she had seen when first arrived. When the walls were so close she could reach out and touch them, the staircase came to a halt.
Root looked around. She was surrounded by gleaming black marble. Above her she could see dark tinted windows rising into the last tip of the apex. Behind these the sun looked bald.
There was no railed balcony here. Instead the black marble walls curved around her, smooth and cold and seamless save for a single door that faced them. It too was shining black marble. Its only identifying feature was the familiar and much despised ‘V’, a full body length in height.
The steps trembled again.
“C’mon. It can’t be that bad…can it?” Root leaned in closer to the door remembering the heated conversation of the two women. What had the one guide said? Oh yeah! Her team leader had figured out Vulcherk’s password. Team leader, eh? Now who might that be? Of course Root had her suspicions. But still she couldn’t be sure. This was pretty serious stuff. Who would risk total disqualification to cheat like this? Obviously a person wanting to win at all costs. Using Dark Magic no less. Well, like the guide had said, someone could get seriously hurt. And Root certainly didn’t want to be that someone. Whoever it was was gonna get caught; Root would make sure of that.
She eyed the door. If the competition could guess a password, surely she could.
Vulcherk…Vulcherk... she thought to herself. Vulcherk and … “Money!” she commanded. Nothing happened. “Greed! Evil!” The steps shivered.
“Umm…Ugly! Wormy! Sly!”
Silence. She had to laugh. As if Vulcherk would choose descriptions like these for his own passwords.
She concentrated harder, trying to remember all the things Lian had told her about Grotius Vulcherk, how he did underground business with the… “Black Market!”
Nada. The door remained unmoved.
Root filed through notes in her brain, detailing the nasty dealings of this creepy man she had straightaway learned to loathe. As she was reminded of his penchant for collecting rare, strange and often dangerous things, not to mention his rather questionable connections, Root became quite concerned at what might be lurking behind the black door. She wondered if catching a rival in an illegal Quest operation was worth it.
Oh yes, indeed.
She sat on the step and tried to work out more possible pass-codes. Far below her she could hear the faint buying and selling, the bartering and quibbling of customer and…
“Squawnch!” she yelled.
A flick of something. Root stood back. The ‘V’ was shifting somehow, churning from neat grey into radiant silver. And then the door slid open. Into blackness.
The staircase seemed to gulp before it trundled Root in. The slate door glided silently again, closing behind them. Standing on its threshold Root squinted and saw, way across a bleak and wide chasm of darkness, another ‘V’. It was glowing bright white as if it had eaten a star.
“Okay. So now what?”
At this the steps seemed to shrug.
“I see.” This time Root gulped. She pulled out a penny and dropped it to test how long the fall was. But where the penny should have fallen into the abyss, it decided to burst into flames instead.
Great.
She turned to her staircase. “Can’t you, y’know move me along, that treadmill thing you do?”
The staircase held. Root gave it an understanding pat. “Guess they’re really screening their customers, eh?”
It made sense. The last thing Vulcherk would want is a bunch of curiosity mongers hanging about his nasty business. Thus the ol’ bursting into flames deterrent.
She reasoned, however that if Vulcherk were real
ly the money vampire everyone said he was, he would hardly sabotage paying customers. Obviously, this type of customer, a Dark Arts buyer, would just have to demonstrate a certain amount of chutzpah to be taken seriously.
Even as she thought it she could feel the curiosity killing her. She was dying to know who, of all the Quest contestants fit the Dark-Arts-buyer bill. Who was willing to use it to win? Who had the know-how to actually go through with it?
She was wasting time. No point guessing when she was so near to catching them red-handed.
So, what was it? What was Vulcherk’s game here? How would a player get in?
Wait a minute.
Money.
Root reached in her pocket and pulled out the coin shaped diamond she got from Haverly. Even in the darkness it seemed to find light and sparkle.
That was it! Vulcherk wasn’t interested in bargain finders, those who toss pennies. He was interested in the real deal. Someone willing to put their money where their mouth was. And a demonstration of that was needed.
Root took a chance and tossed the glittering coin.
She stood back, half expecting a burst of fire. But the fire never came. Instead the darkness moaned. And before Root’s eyes, it solidified into a polished granite walkway expanding the whole of the chasm. It was just like the one that had glided her through the store’s front doors, except fancier. A slick marble rail with softly glowing lamps emerged along it, leading to the sudden appearance of a doorman with a tray of drinks in his hand. He was in an impeccable black uniform with white gloves.
“Welcome. May I interest you in a drink, milady?” he asked from across the distance, not needing to raise his voice.
“Uh…sure.” Root took a hesitant step. As the walkway carried her forward she turned back to her staircase. “Wait here, ‘kay?”
The steps piled up against the wall with a nod.
“I won’t be long.” Root promised, already half way across.
The doorman waited patiently. Upon Root’s arrival he lowered the tray, displaying several golden goblets.
“Uh, y’got any Chorm?” Root asked tentatively.
