The Questory of Root Karbunkulus - Quill

by Kamilla Reid

  The conversation shifted. Apparently the boys had spent a large portion of the early afternoon in a candy shop and were eagerly comparing it to Heaven.

  Again Root had to look. It was so stupid, but she just had to see.

  Sheesh! He was still staring. This time a shiver ran down her spine as she met his eyes. And then she felt like an idiot thinking he was thinking she was staring at him. Even though he started it! Her eyes fell back to her drink. She would try the ol’ peripheral sweep. Keeping her head toward Lian who was on about a particularly lovely truffle, she slowly moved only her eyes.

  The guy was under the hood of a heavy rust colored cloak but she caught a fringe of dark brown hair, maybe black. And though he sat back in the safety of a shadow she could see the eyes. Still locked on her. Her heart skipped but she couldn’t tear herself away.

  At least he wasn’t a Squawnch but he was obviously someone with an interest in her. In her capture? She gulped and took another sip. But would a bounty hunter be sitting at a table of kids younger than Root? Four of them, two boys and two girls. Looking perfectly, happily normal, sucking on straws and jamming more popcorn into their chocolate covered, laughing mouths. Could be just a set up, a diversion.

  Rats! He caught her eyes again.

  Well this was getting just silly now. Out of pure exasperation, Root turned and faced her quiet, cloaked opponent head on.

  What he did next had her spinning in a dithered cloud. She had no idea what to do. It was so sudden, so unexpected.

  Of all the things he could have done…He wasn’t supposed to do that.

  He wasn’t supposed to…smile. Just. Smile.

  Root spun back to her drink and drained the entire thing in one long swig.

  The conversation at her table was just getting back to the cute girl behind the counter when the door of Pooly’s Drinkhouse swung open.

  There was a blinding flash…

  …of Pink.

  Oh god.

  Hilly, Sharmay and Pidge were fresh and posed. They stood in the threshold scanning, not for a table but more like a stage.

  “Well, well…not in this lifetime would I have thought I’d see a Punyun in the Drinkhouse. Welcome, love!” Pooly stood with her hands on her hips, nodding appreciatively.

  “I’m not staying, Poolipity Shrugs. My mother says I would catch a plague from the rats.” At this Hilly eyeballed Raisin.

  “ I see. And how is your mother? I’ve not seen her since we were…well, it’s been some time.”

  “She’s fine. Busy.”

  “Of course. And since you’re not staying, how may I help you?”

  “ I saw some Hovers of friends of mine and I….Oh, there you guys are!” Hilly, Sharmay and Pidge walked, a three-car choo choo of pastel that wound its way through the maze of tables, stopping directly in front of the Valadors.

  “Just wanted to show you something.” Hilly pulled it from beneath her long, wool poncho. It dazzled the eyes. Her back was to most of the Drinkhouse customers but had they looked they would have seen the shimmering light that silhouetted her. From Root’s view it was even more glorious. The silver spine seemed lit from its own power within. It spread its radiant iridescence outward into the tips of each soft plume of the Quill.

  “Hey!” someone yelled from across the room. “That’s ours!”

  Hilly spun around and spotted another team coming toward her.

  “You stole that from us, Punyun and we want it back!”

  “I got it fair and square.”

  “Well, ‘fair’ is putting it rather loosely, wouldn’t you say?” Root interrupted.

  “What do you know?”

  As the other team approached, Dwyn stood, prompting Lian to reluctantly follow suit…Couldn’t there be just one day of no fighting?

  Now three teams were squaring off in the middle of Poolipity Shrugs’ Drinkhouse.

  Pooly took a deep breath. This was the last thing she wanted. She was about to intervene when something of a miracle happened instead.

  “Hey, it’s the teams from the DréAmm Treasure Quests!”

  From another table four people had stood up, two young boys and two young girls. They were smiling as they approached.

  “So cool to meet you. We’ve heard all about it and have been following through the news. But to actually see you all in person, that’s awesome!” The boy, the tallest of the youngsters, reached his hand toward Root. “I’m Splinter and this is Fizz, Chichi and Mameo.”

  “Glad to meet you” Root responded, grateful of the reprieve. She’d had enough fights for one night. She introduced Lian and Dwyn. Splinter then turned to Hilly and extended his hand. “And you must be The Pinks…?”

  “Hilly Punyun” she said after a beat, taking his hand hesitantly at first.

  But then she saw it. Thick and shiny on his forehead. She snatched her hand back. “You’re…you’re a Tint!”

  Splinter stiffened. Hilly’s blatant disgust had caught him off guard. He became flustered and looked back to his table for help. Root braced herself for Cloak-Trance-Bounty-Hunter-smiling guy to come rushing over, fists and curses on the fly. Maybe a good knock or two in Hilly’s direction. Not that she didn’t deserve it.

  But he simply nodded his head in encouragement at the young boy.

  Splinter affirmed the nod and tried to rally some inner strength. It was obviously not easy as the hurt in his eyes fought for attention. With a deep breath he managed to stand straight and face Hilly. His words came out like a recitation but behind them there was power, the power of acceptance. “I was taken from my parents and forced into slavery with the Murklord, if that’s what you mean.”.

  “Yeah, that’s exactly what I mean. You served evil…” then she looked at their foreheads. “All of you did!”

  “Well, it depends on what you mean by served. We were…”

  “I can’t believe I touched you!” Hilly looked like she was going to be sick.

  And Root now looked like she was going to slug her. “Shut up, Hilly!” she yelled.

  “Oh, right, coming from the Tint lover…”

  Root took a step forward and was stopped. Surprisingly, by Splinter.

  “Well, anyway.” He looked directly into Hilly’s eyes. “Good luck in the race.”

  Hilly glared at him and then at Pooly. “My mother was right about this place!” She grabbed her friends. “C’mon.” And was gone.

  The two remaining teams were left standing in the middle of the room. All eyes were on them and the four youngsters. It was way, way too quiet.

  “I’d be happy to sign your book if you’d like.” Lian’s voice was like rain. A cool, refreshing shower that doused the scorched words that Hilly had left behind.

  Root smiled in that way that made him blush so easily. She couldn’t help it. He was so….just so….in light of everything he’s been through…his sister and Tints…she shook her head in wonder. How did she ever get so lucky to have a friend like him?

  ‘Really? That’d be awesome!” Splinter’s eyes were wide and thankful.

  The next thing they knew there was a line up of autograph seekers, kids and adults alike. Another raising of flutes and mugs and triple stemmed glasses marked the return of laughter as the mood shifted once again into the homey offerings of Poolipity Shrugs’ Drinkhouse. Root turned her happy eyes toward the cloaked stranger, the now exonerated cloaked stranger. But he was gone. A pang surprised her. She had wanted to connect. A returned smile. An unspoken high five.

  Dwyn diverted her into another round of drinks and song. He was a terrible singer but somehow he managed to get the whole house in on it. Even Lian.

  When the cheery camaraderie subsided and the last few coats were put on for their journeys home, Raisin used her tail to change the Drinkhouse sign from ‘Open’ to ‘Closed.’

  What a night. The Valadors emptied a few handfuls of coins into the Fund Jar on their way out. Haverly’s bunk beds were heavy on their minds. They would definitely sleep well toni
ght.

  “G’night, Pooly!”

  “Night, kids! Come again anytime.” Pooly was neatening things up, getting ready to hit her own bed soon.

  The team had the door open and was about to disappear into the fog-filled streets of Divit when a terror stricken scream froze them in their tracks.

  33

  MURDER

  Pooly Shrugs was trembling. She’d gone suddenly pale. In her hands was a piece of paper, Root’s receipt from Vulcherk’s Zero-th floor. “Whose is this?” she whimpered.

  “It’s mine.” Root said.

  “This?…is…yours?” Pooly looked ill, like she couldn’t see straight, like she might wobble and fall down.

  “No. I mean, not really…I…I stole it.” Root was about to fess up an explanation but Pooly cut her off.

  “Quickly!” Pooly staggered out the back door of the Drinkhouse using the walls for support. The Valadors ran after her, stricken with panic.

  They arrived at the Hovermutt stalls. It was horrifying. Vicious. Unspeakable. Who could do such a thing?

  Stogie was bleeding where he’d been trying to bite free of a gag in his mouth. He was choking on his own saliva and blood. Hana was on her side, panting heavily from the exertion of trying to escape leather straps that chafed and bound her legs. Pilsnips too was panting. The skin of his shoulders and feet was rubbed raw from his own many attempted escapes. The dirt beneath them was muddied with blood and urine.

  CPR was nowhere to be found.

  The Valadors cried out and ran to their Hovermutts.

  “Where’s CPR?” Root screamed as she tore at the gag in Stogie’s mouth.

  Ripping at straps and tending wounds, the team turned to Pooly. The receipt was still in her hand, swarming her with images. Her eyes were squeezed against some unknown terror and seemed to be rolling in their sockets. She started trembling again and cried out. “No!” She opened her eyes, the whites wild and dominating. “There is a murder! A bloody slaughter of life!” Her eyes rolled again while the team stood in horror watching. “Oh no, no …please…NO!!!” She tried to bring herself back and focus. Tears were spilling now, leaking down her cheeks. “Oh children, I am so sorry.”

  “What!? What is it?” Dwyn demanded. He couldn’t take the awful dread in her voice, the vagueness of answers.

  “I’ve not seen this…this evil since the Madness…two of three are dead.”

  “Who? Who’s dead?” cried Root, tears now leading a salty path to her lips. “Where’s CPR?”

  Pooly tried desperately to regain her mind, if for no other reason than to soothe the children. But the images were so strong, so potent. So black. She was unprepared, having let her guard slide over the years since the war ended. She used all her strength now, if not to impart some calm, then at least some clarity. Her whole body struggled in the balance. “There’s so much confusion. So much darkness. I can’t…The White Woods! They are in the White Woods!”

  “Let’s go!” Dwyn said.

  But the Hovers were in no condition. They lay in heaps, licking their wounds, whimpering.

  “We’ll go ourselves, then!” Lian said.

  “Not if I have anything to say about it.” The words were cold and clammy, still wet in the throat. From out of the misted shadows Ernward, Curator of the Dark Arts emerged.

  Root gasped.

  “Yes, I thought you might be surprised to see me. What, did you think you would get away with such antics?”

  “Who’s this, Root?” Dwyn said, his patience dead.

  “The…the Curator.”

  “Oh good. We could use the money. I believe you owe Root a few hundred thousand gilds for her Brotswin!” Dwyn said, flinging all caution into the fog that surrounded him. He didn’t care. This same cold fog had already stolen his sense of humanity.

  “We don’t have time for this, Dwyn.” Root pulled him back. “CPR needs…”

  A familiar laugh. A raspy scratching of fingernails on chalkboard. “I owe you? My, your friends are amusing. Now, then, I believe you have something of mine.”

  “It’s not yours!”

  “Ah, but it is. And you have five seconds to return it. And this time you will not get away.” He cleared his throat conspicuously.

  From out of the surrounding gloom Squawnches surfaced. Their blue patchy skin looked rotten in the dark. They gurgled and snickered, anxious for the delicious pickings of fresh heart. Even a liver would do.

  “Three…two...”

  “I could hardly believe it when I heard.” A new voice broke in, silencing everyone with its unexpected arrival. Even the Curator stopped his countdown, struck dumb by the surprise. The voice continued. “There was no way it could be true. I had to take a look for myself and now…now…” All eyes turned to see Haverly Sintamore emerging from the shadows ghost-like toward them. The fog rolled and curled away as she walked through it. She stopped in front of Ernward and looked at him for a long, penetrating moment. “Yes, I see it…”

  “Mother!” he said, his eyes wide with wonder.

  Haverly wiped her swollen, red eyes. Her sleeve was soaked in tears. She turned to Root. “When I got your note, I couldn’t believe it. I just could not believe that my son was still alive and that he...” Her voice cracked. “But then when I saw the Song…its soft ivory shell, still perfect and gleaming as my father had found it…right there in the plastic bag you sent with Corky…” She took a deep breath to regain her composure. “Of course I had to look for myself. I went to the old stable. It was exactly how I had left it those many years ago. A pile of charred remains. A black ghost of my family’s great work. After the blaze I had naively trusted the fire inspector, Ernward’s friend, and hadn’t set foot on it again. But today I did. And I saw it.” She turned to Ernward who was stiff with fear. “I saw your pool. The pool that you had tunneled all the way to Vulcherk’s…when you…when you stole the Song.”

  “Mother, I…”

  “No!….no.” Haverly lifted her hand to her son’s face, touching the melted strips of skin. “Your face…gone…gone with the fire you started…You were so handsome…my boy…”

  Pooly’s scream broke the scene. She had received another vision. It was all Ernward needed. He jumped back, looked at his mother and with a cold whisper to the Squawnches said. “Kill her.”

  The Squawnches sprang forward.

  To their great surprise, however, a squadron of lurking Divitinian officers immediately sprang from their own misty hideaways and took up arms against them. In the collision of sides Haverly’s eyes met her sons. Her heart wrenched. He was livid. That was all.

  The clashing of weapons and crying of voices bounced around in the fog, one second muffled, the next wounding the ears in its exit. Amidst the chaos Lian and Dwyn pulled the Hovermutts to safety. Root and Haverly grabbed Pooly who was still stuck in some sort of mystical bewilderment, crying out more terrifying images drawn from the receipt.

  “What is it?” Root cried. “Is it CPR? Please, tell me! Is she okay?”

  “Blood on the twilight!”

  “Where is she? Where’s CPR! I’ve got to find her! Please, Pooly!”

  Pooly fought with all her might to bring herself away from the terror. She dropped the piece of paper and focused intently upon Root. “The White Woods…You must go…Now!”

  Root’s eyes went wild with fear. “But, how can we get there in time?” The Hovers were injured. The fog lay across them like a blindfold. They couldn’t even see three feet in front of them let alone find the exact vicinity of the White Woods. She wanted to bawl her eyes out. There seemed so little hope of saving her beloved companion.

  “Follow me!” Haverly said, her voice surreally calm amidst all the confusion. “Hurry!”

  The Valadors followed, cautiously keeping to the shadows. Death lurked all around them, silently keeping a tally of its dominion. A body fell at their feet and Lian had to slap a hand over Root’s mouth ere she gave them away.

  “Hurry, kids!” Haverly snuck the
m down a stone canal staircase that was off the Drinkhouse property. In the water Corky was patiently waiting.

  “Hold still, boy!” Haverly unhooked her water carriage from the great tortoise. “You’re to take the kids to the White Woods. Use the Snakes, the quickest ones y’hear me?”

  Corky roared.

  “But the carriage is off!” Lian said. “How’re we gonna…?”

  “Unk tu!” Haverly cried out and touched her hand upon the deep purple etching of Corky’s shell. At once the lines began to glow, as if a string of light was winding all round the curls and corners and swirls that stretched across the whole of Corky’s shell. When the entire design was lit, there was a murmur of noise, a deep hum. To the amazement of the team, Corky’s enormous shell was raising into the air, opening like a great hinged lid. When it was fully upright they could see a plump, rubbery, purple interior.

  “Get in! Hurry!”

  There was no time to argue. Root went first, then Lian and Dwyn stepped into Corky’s slippery, meaty folds.

  “Now go, Corky! Go and don’t look back!”

  “Thank you.” Root mouthed to Haverly as Corky’s enormous shell closed over them. The great tortoise roared and took to the water with full potent strength. From inside the team discovered that the pentagonal shapes of his shell were actually purple tinted windows. Root looked one last time at Haverly who was wiping her sleeve on her eyes.

  Then darkness.

  Corky had dived!

  34

  THE WHITE WOODS

  There was no need for Horace Gastral’s Finest Gills here. The Valadors were safe and warm in the purple padding of Corky’s innards, which wasn’t as gross as it sounded. It was actually quite comfortable once one got over the fact that they were indeed inside a giant tortoise.

  They could tell his speed by the rush of water creatures past the windows. It was fast.

  But nothing compared to the tunnel. He’d found it and dove straight in, not even stopping for assessment. The tunnel welcomed them with a powerful gulp.

  Root flew between her friends.