by Kamilla Reid
The next day she didn’t get out of bed at all.
Jorab Quatra’d her that CPR was getting better but she could feel tension in his thought. She began to wonder if CPR had been given some Gut Oil too. Maybe it wasn’t enough to kill her. Or maybe it was just enough to make her suffer for a long time first.
A week went by before there was another knock on her door.
Tamik had brought cookies and Chorm.
At first Root politely rejected her visit. She had been torn about how to place Tamik in the midst of everything. How much did Tamik know?
But her friend would not take no for an answer.
“Where’ve y’been? I haven’t seen any of you guys for days.”
“Sick. “ Root lied.
“All three of you? What, is it contagious or somethin’ y’got in the race?”
“The race.” Root said, which was kind of true.
Root accepted a cookie and a mug. Who could resist? Just the steam of the Chorm was already thawing her.
They talked well into the late afternoon. Tamik was amazing. The way she made everything so easy and funny. Even spinning Root’s view of the approaching barren wintry landscape into snow sculptures and slider races and glittering beauty instead. Suddenly Root was looking forward to a few months of Frost Festivals and warm apple fritters.
“And then before y’know it, it’ll be time for the third race!” Tamik said. “Not that I deserve it since I had nothing to do with this last one.”
“What?”
“Well, apparently King Kor decided I was more of a bother than I was worth. I guess he didn’t like me calling him a goat all the time. But seriously, if you look at him, all you can see is goat.”
“I know!” Root laughed “I’ve been saying that since the beginning! That’s too funny!”
“Yeah! See, I’m not the only one. So, anyway, one night, being the team player that he is, he just took off without me ‘n Flink. And the next thing I knew he had a HaloEm Quill in his little cloven hoof. I mean, we were getting close to one for sure. It was just a matter of time. I’m thinkin’ he used his invisibility again. But, yeah, so here we are.”
Root was so relieved to learn this. Up until now she wasn’t sure if Tamik had been a part of Kor’s dark deed; they were on the same team after all. Now, however, she felt ashamed for even considering it. She looked down. How could she tell Tamik about Kor? Would Tamik even believe her?
In the end she couldn’t. There was something stopping her. She needed to talk to Jorab first. Hear what he had to say about it.
After Tamik left, making Root promise to come down for supper, Root bundled up once again and headed for the stables.
Jorab was not there and CPR looked worse than ever. She was losing hair and seemed to convulse in her bed. But she looked much bigger somehow and Root took this as a good sign. She tucked a few more woolen blankets around her and nestled in at her side.
She awoke to the sound of talking. Another team had apparently returned. With the third Quill.
Two left.
So what? Who cares?
She went straight to the dining room. The tables were set in a circle with a big empty space in between.
“Root!” Tamik called her over. “Watch for the Cold Spot. It’s a doozy!’
Doozy indeed. It was the biggest one Root had seen since first arriving. The floor beneath it was frosted. She hedged around it and joined her friend.
Master Hillywur Gub was evidently still short staffed. As Root eyeballed the Cold Spot she couldn’t blame anyone for not wanting to work here. At any rate dinner was a buffet. She and Tamik loaded up on Springs, which are like spaghetti but curly and with a strong bounce. Root lost her first one right away. It sprung from her fork and bounced along the floor. Right into the…oops…It froze mid-bounce, mid-air. Everyone stopped to watch as the Cold Spot set upon it. When it was finished, the Spring had been mutilated into something that resembled a large, disgusting liver. With bunny ears.
Awesome!
Fifty Springs flew at once.
You couldn’t pay for that kind of entertainment!
Dwyn and Lian arrived to a host of cheers. Eleven Springs had just exploded into tar.
“Didjya hear?” Dwyn said as they sat down.
“About the third Quill? Yeah.”
The boys joined the Cold Spot action though it was clear their hearts weren’t into it.
“Only one left, then.” Tamik said.
“What? Why, who got the other one?” Dwyn said in alarm.
“Well, there’s my team, Punyun, the Blue Knights and you guys.”
“We didn’t get one.” Lian corrected her.
“What? What’re y’talkin’ about? You’re here aren’t you?”
The boys looked at Root. “You didn’t tell her?”
“Tell me what?” Tamik demanded.
Root sighed and began a shrewd explanation. She didn’t mention the HaloEm, only that they’d experienced something that made them lose faith in the race. They’d become disillusioned and decided they didn’t want to be a part of it anymore.
“Oh, bullpucky! What could be so bad that would keep you out of the greatest treasure hunt in the history of DréAmm?” Tamik was not easily convinced. “So, you got knocked down a bit. So what?”
“No, you don’t understand.” Root interrupted.
“Maybe not.” Tamik stood up. “But, I do know that if I had quit playing the game, the real one, not some treasure hunt, if I had quit the game of getting up every morning, despite the fact that I am the last one alive to bear my family’s name, well then who would’ve done such an amazing job on the floats for the Send Off parade?” She looked outside and smiled. A colorful swatch of sails was spreading out across Mirror Lake. This meant the vicious Bobbers had been temporarily removed for cleaning. The sun was in full swing. The trees were golden. It was perfect. “I’m going Lake Sliding!”
It was amazing the way Tamik always left a wake of carnivals and melted chocolate and spontaneous kick lines behind her. This day, she left behind three shamefaced teens in the mix.
A new burst of cheers brought the Valadors out of their thoughts.
At the door stood Milden Ibbbs. He and his team looked completely worn out but the smiles on their faces gave it away.
The fourth Quill had been found.
There was only one left.
The Valadors looked at each other. A smile broke over Dwyn’s face. Like a virus, Root caught it and passed it to Lian.
Tamik was right. They couldn’t let the murder of the HaloEm stop them from living. In fact, if anything the Valadors should press on in their honour. What better way to send the message that evil has not won, that the mighty HaloEm shall be avenged in victory.
Kor Bludgitt, the winner? Hilly Punyun?
Not if they could help it.
There was still one Quill left.
But first things first.
They ran.
“Tamik! Wait up!”
36
THE SILKEN OXBACK
The Valadors were revived and ready with a freshly supplied travel pack. After a visit with CPR who was mildly improved, and Jorab who promised to take care of her, they would be one their way.
It was Estrella Fuffleteez who put an abrupt end to that.
She’d arrived with the morning express and was now interrupting their story with as many questions as there were slugs in Lian’s aquarium. Which was a lot.
“It has been so long. How did Haverly look?”
And “Did you give Hilly Punyun a swift kick in the rump?”
And “ Do you think there are anymore HaloEm?”
“No.” Lian answered. “Haverly said those two were the last ones.”
Estrella pressed on. “If you had wanted to, which I know you didn’t, and I mean this with utmost respect, but if you were really evil and had plucked a Quill from the…well, the dead bodies…would the Quills still…y’know…work?”
“
No.” Root answered. “Jorab says a Quill’s power comes from the life essence of the HaloEm. He thinks that whoever killed them, plucked one just before they died.”
“But why not more than one, then? I mean, well, you know what I mean.”
“Only one Quill can be released at a time.
Jorab thinks that the HaloEm died before another could be plucked.”
“Oh. I see.” Estrella suddenly got a strange look on her face as if something had just occurred to her quite unexpectedly. “What does a HaloEm Quill look like? I mean, up close and real. I’ve only seen sketches…y’know the charcoal drawings in those awful textbooks.”
She became very quiet after they told her.
A little too quiet.
And Lian knew that when his mother was quiet, it usually meant something was seriously wrong.
“What, mum? What is it?”
“Mmm? Oh, nothing.” She said quickly.
“Yes, there is. There’s something bugging you. What is it?”
“It’s nothing really…only I…no, no. Forget it. It’s probably not…anything…”
“Say it, mum!”
“Well, it’s just that…I mean…well, from the way you described it, it sounded…well, it seemed to…but, no. It couldn’t…”
“Mum!”
“Alright, alright! It’s just that…your description sounds quite similar to the…uh…the Quill from your…your room…that I donated to that nice float box the last time I was here.”
Tamik was singing along with a recording of her favorite band, Miss Wiggs, when someone began pounding on her door so hard the recording skipped. She was not impressed. It was her favorite part. The “gonna have a party, yeah a party in my own back yaaaaaaaaard” part.
She barely got the door open when Lian, Dwyn and Root came barreling in. They spoke way too fast, spitting out words like some sort of mad tag team. And they were completely out of breath. But the more they rattled on, the more Tamik got the gist of it. The you-can’t-be-serious-holy-crow-o-rama-gist of it.
“I am so sorry, guys. I never saw it. There were tons of volunteers from everywhere that went through the boxes. But I know for certain it wasn’t used. I would’ve remembered that!”
“Well, what happened to the boxes?”
Elgart was busying himself with a particularly ornery pipe leak. A Cold Spot had froze it and then it burst. He had thirteen mops on clean up when he heard the sound of thunder heading right toward him.
“Ikes! You kids should warn a fella when you’re comin’ down stairs like that.” He said, clutching his chest. “Pretty near gave me enough heart attacks to take me out for good! Now, what’s all the commotion about?”
“Elgart! All the boxes from the parade. Where are they?” Tamik said, now as breathless as her friends.
“Just yonder in the vault ‘round the bend there. Why? You plannin’ another one, there, Tamik? That last one was…well, it was the best thing I’d seen since that time…”
They didn’t hear him. Even as he followed them around the corner to the heaping piles and piles of boxes, they heard not a word he said. They were too busy digging through them. He didn’t seem to mind.
“….oh yeah, that was unforgettable, that was. Course I was only twelve, then. A young pup but oh what a time it was…I remember…”
“Elgart.” Root said at last. “We need help.”
“Uh? Oh. Sure, sure. What can I do for ya, kidlets?”
“Well, you’ve got Animata, right?”
“Indeed, if those ain’t thirteen animated mops, I’ll just eat my dustpan. No offense, Barnicle.” He laughed and patted his dustpan.
“We’re looking for something very, very, very important. D’ya think you could animate some of your equipment down here, to y’know help us find it?”
“Well, sure I can. I’ve got my grippers and some pails. Pails might be good for diggin’ some a that out. And those garden sifters might come in handy. Any preference?”
The kids were still rummaging madly through the boxes. “Use ‘em all!” Dwyn called from inside one.
“All of ‘em? I dunno. That seems a bit excessive, there Dwyn. What might y’be lookin’ for that needs such a fuss, eh?”
“Oh, nothing. Only the last HaloEm Quill.”
It was quite a sight, even to Elgart, who’d once been the Animate Foreman of eighty-six separate yard rake crews. The entire vault was blitzed into a whirling dervish of brooming, pailing, gripping, sifting, digging action.
Watching the kindness with which Elgart related to his animated charges touched Root. To someone else they would be lifeless means to a utilitarian end. But not Elgart. He collected his equipment like one collects cute little fluffy bunnies, giving them names and affectonate pats. The way rakes and brushes followed him around, you’d think he was ‘Grandpa ‘Gart, Custodian Extraordinaire.’ Which, of course he was. Everyone knew the castle would fall to pieces without him.
Hours later, many, many it seemed, as it painstakingly sifted through the very last box, and while the fingers and toes of those watching crossed in anticipation, Elgart’s gripper came up empty handed.
The crew, the live one that is, fell into heaps, exhausted and utterly frustrated.
“I don’t get it. Where else could it be? I know it wasn’t used on any of the floats!” Tamik racked her brains.
“What about a costume or a headpiece or something?” Root asked.
“No way, I totally would have noticed.”
“Well, obviously somehow we missed it. We’ll just have to go through it all again.” Dwyn stood, way too energetic for his mates.
They dragged themselves up and began another ridiculously long excavation of boxes. Elgart’s crew was definitely a big help, but still it was discouraging. It was only the vivid memory of Martika’s beautiful HaloEm Quill that made it bearable.
“Why d’y think she gave it to us? I mean, it’s a HaloEm Quill.” Root asked.
“Probably ‘cause she and Alabiss were already dead and didn’t really need one.” Lian said “They had the power of the whole underworld working for them.”
They dug awhile longer when a thought dawned on Root “Elgart, was anyone else down here? I mean, any other team?”
“Not that I know of…uh oh…” His eyes looked like they were going to pop out into one of his waiting pails.
Everyone stopped. Even the non-breathing crew.
“Uh oh what, Elgart?” Root said slowly.
“Well, there was them Skullks.”
“What?”
“The ones what did that play, that dinner theatre. The night before you kids were all supposed to go. Course that was before that terrible Dead Treader incident and that boy, Krism was off and sent to…”
“The Skullks, Elgart! What about them?!”
“Right. Well, as a special thank you for helpin’ out that night, Master Gub let ‘em go through these here boxes for props ‘n set pieces ‘n costumes, stuff for their theatre company, I guess.”
The Director of the Lord Sclerous Players had a foul skullache. His Silken Oxback actor had grown particularly indulgent on stage these past weeks and had riled the entire cast against him. As director, if he could, he would most certainly have fired the actor’s oxen butt out of there ages ago but as it was he could find no understudy.
“No, no stop!” the director yelled. Again. “The line is ‘Doth thou thinkest me so gullible?’ not ‘Doth thou thinkest me so gulli-bull.” If he had hair he would be tearing it out right now.
“Yes, but you see it’s a clever play on words. Bull and Ox. Highly amusing.” The Silken Oxback said. Again.
“He is about to commit murder. I don’t think the audience would find his word play amusing while he pierces a dagger through her heart.”
“But it’s comedic relief. Just before the…”
“We are not doing a comedy. We are presenting one of the greatest tragedies of our age.”
The double doors of the Lord Sclerous
Players Theatre burst open revealing four heavily breathing, wild eyed kids.
“We are closed to the public if you don’t mind.”
“Are you the director?” Root was puffing.
“I am.”
“We…we need a …word with you.”
The director put a phalanx to his temporal bone. “Alright, cast. Take a break.”
He grabbed a pack of something and approached his visitors. “Do you mind if we talk outside?” He held up the pack. It read Puffly’s Best. “Bad habit but what can I say?” He led them outside and pulled a fat round stump from the pack. He lit the end and took a great puff. “So, how can I help you?”
They tried not to stare at the smoke that was now coming out of every hole in his skeletal head. The empty eye sockets were particularly unnerving. He didn’t even seem to notice as he inhaled a second time. “Well?”
“Mr…” Root began.
“Mathelopolick. Sir Mathelopolick.”
“Mathel..”
“Lopolick. The emphasis is in the ‘lop’. Lopolick.”
“Lopolick.”
“Yes?” Another puff. More smoke rising from the earholes.
“Well, sir. We were told that you were given permission to take some items from the House of Gub.”
“Ah, yes. Master Gub’s generosity allowed us to collect much in the way of props, costumes and unique set pieces. Many of which we are using in our current production ‘The Return of the Silken Oxback’. Perhaps you’ve heard of it?”
“Actually, no Sir Mathe...lopy..I mean, sir. I’ve uh…well, I’m new.”
“I see.” Mathelopolick’s last puff even filtered out the ribs. “I’m sorry I’m not quite sure I understand why you’re all…”
“Some of that stuff wasn’t Master Gub’s to give.” Tamik blurted. “And we need it back.”
“Oh. Well, I’m afraid I can’t do that. We are using the items, if not now, then in successional productions. I am sorry that you were misled but Master Gub made no exceptions to his generous donation. Now, if you will excuse me.”
