The Questory of Root Karbunkulus - Quill

by Kamilla Reid

  39

  SOARING

  Root tiptoed through the castle. By now she’d become so used to this nighttime routine that she could do it blindfolded. It was hard to believe there was a time when she walked this very same route fearing for her safety.

  The door, as usual was open a crack and from it there came a soft welcoming glow. The fire was on, the kettle was fizzing, the cups were out and the great big fat blob of Gruel, the Toadandahalf was croaking mid-dream in his easy chair.

  Home.

  “Hey Gruel. Where’s Mordge?”

  “She had to step out for a spell….literally, but made sure someone would be here for your arrival. I hope I shall suffice.” It wasn’t Gruel. Jorab’s feet stretched out from Mordge’s overstuffed chair and toasted themselves in front of the fire. He always looked funny in socks. At least Root thought so.

  “Of course!” Root snuggled in next to Gruel. He grunted around a bit, found a new position halfway on her lap and halfway off and went back to sleep. “Will she be long?”

  “I don’t suspect so.”

  “That’s okay. I’ve been wanting to talk to you for awhile now, anyway.”

  “Oh?”

  “Yeah, I mean, well I’ve been thinking a lot lately about things. Especially since the… HaloEm …since we found them.”

  Jorab nodded.

  “I found this in the White Woods, right by their…bodies.” Root handed him the empty vial of Gut Oil. “I’ve been meaning to show you but things got so…I mean…I wasn’t sure…anyway…I found this and I know it came from Vulcherk’s Zero-th Floor, the Dark Arts Gallery. I know because I found the receipt and I traced it to a mansion and then I saw Kor at the mansion and I thought…I mean…he threatened CPR! And then the HaloEm all dead like that and he’s all of a sudden got a Quill! Don’t you think that’s past coincidence?”

  “I suspect that the one responsible for such a deed as the slaughter of CPR’s mother and father is of the darkest nature indeed.”

  Root went silent. Her heart twinged. It hadn’t occurred to her that the HaloEm had been the parents of CPR. But, of course. How else could she have been born?

  “You said that in the entire time you were with the HaloEm you did not know of her true nature?” Jorab asked.

  “No, I had no idea.”

  “Nor did Haverly, who had grown up with knowledge of the HaloEm?”

  “Jorab, there’s no way! She’s the one who sent us to the White Woods to save them and who gave you the Song and…no, I remember her telling us that she hadn’t seen the HaloEm until they were adults. And all her father’s papers were destroyed so she wouldn’t have known what they looked like as babies…right?”

  “It is not surprising. A young HaloEm is rarely, if ever seen, which is why I was greatly surprised to see your CPR. I can only assume she had wandered too far from her parents and then become trapped in the Swamps where you found her. At any rate, because they grow in such seclusion and shelter their appearance is not recognized. Most believe, as you did that they are born with the beauty and nobility of their adulthood. But it is possible that someone saw her and …”

  “They knew what she was!” Root blurted.

  Jorab looked at her expectantly.

  “That’s it! Who ever killed the HaloEm knew she must have been their baby! They strung her up as bait to bring the HaloEm in. And then the killers ambushed them!” Root felt her head rush. “Kor saw her! He saw her and must have recognized what she was! That’s why he said she should be strung up and left to die! It’s all too perfect, the mansion, the Gut Oil, sneaking off without his teammates! Jorab, he can’t get away with it!”

  Jorab didn’t take his eyes from the fire. “The use of Gut Oil is an ancient art. It takes the skill and experience of many years before even one drop can be manipulated. A terrible stuff. It has a soul of its own and a will that will destroy even the strongest of constitutions in the split instant of time. It is the very blood of Shadow and in the whole of DréAmm history there have only been two to have conquered it.”

  “Oh.” Root sunk into her chair. She hadn’t expected such a dead end. After a beat her curiosity got the best of her. “Who conquered it?”

  “The Sagician Antiquilus and the one they call the Murk Lord, Kakos.”

  Root went quiet. Then she became angry. “Well, someone had to bottle it and sell it to them. Who could do that?”

  “That, little Root, is what concerns me.” Jorab said.

  “Oh.”

  She weighed the gravity of his words. Immediately the Curator came to mind. And Grotius Vulcherk. Surely these two would fall under suspicion. And who’s to say Kor hadn’t learned the ancient tactics of Gut Oil from the Murk Lord himself? It’s not like he couldn’t have run into Kakos’ operations in the same way Root had. The only difference being that Kor would probably be inspired. Yeah, and wanting in on it. He’d probably ask to be Kakos’ apprentice for crying out loud.

  Root thought to share her theory with Jorab and how she had come across Kakos’ henchmen in the Drowned City, but she was sure he’d react the same as Dwyn and Lian, citing the low odds of Kakos’ interest in a kids’ treasure hunt.

  Root wasn’t so certain anymore. The Magisterial Treasure Quests of DréAmm were starting to feel like a lot more than that.

  “You must give him a break.” Jorab said.

  Immediately Root’s guard went up. “What? Who?”

  “The little hamster running on that wheel in your head.” He smiled

  Root sighed. He was right. What was wrong with her? Every muscle in her body was tense. She hadn’t even realized how much until he laid his hand on her shoulder and she jumped. She’d become a nervous wreck. Certainly there was excuse but how much longer could she go on like this? Jumping to conclusions and accusations and attack. For all she knew Kakos’ underwater losers had seen CPR with her and told him. Maybe it was then Kakos who stole CPR and used her to bait the HaloEm. Most likely in an effort to get the Song. And he simply grabbed a Quill while he was at it. Oh no! The Song! She must hide it! But where?”

  Knock, knock.

  Root jumped again. It was Jorab. He was using Quatra and had knocked upon the door of her mind.

  Your Chorm’s getting cold.

  Root shook her head. She hadn’t even seen Jorab put the Chorm beside her and yet there it was, the last of its steam wisping away. “I’m sorry. I just can’t seem to help it. There’s so much to worry about and…”

  “Worry is a very unproductive use of faith.”

  “But how am I supposed to not…”

  “Begin here.” He handed her the mug of Chorm. “And stay for a little while. It’s a nice place to be, the present. It comes with its very own fireplace and a breathtaking view. Plus the parking is free.”

  The message was clear. Calm down. Put a little trust into it. Do a little dance…make a little love…

  “Do not forget, little Root, a relaxed mind is a powerful mind.” Jorab’s eyes were bright. Root could feel him lifting the weight off her shoulders and knew that Jorab would not sweep her news under the rug as Picklepug had. He would set himself upon answers. She could relax now.

  They were laughing out loud when Mordge returned, dressed head to toe in a long robe of purple fur. “The HaloEm Quill meeting is scheduled for Dawn’s break.” She announced with rosy cheeks. “All members are required to attend.”

  “Shall I bring pastries?” Jorab pointed at another chair in a corner. It scraped across the floor and squeezed in between himself and Root.

  “But of course.” Mordge sunk into the chair and gestured over a blanket.

  Three pairs of feet toasted themselves at the fire’s edge. A second round of Chorm went by, this with a heaping plate of pomegranates.

  Root listened to the two. They spoke not once of struggle ahead, but of all things, recipes. Tarts, strudel, crisps, loaves. In the end Jorab decided he would bring a warm fruit cobbler and fresh cream.

  They were quite
pleased with themselves, the two. Root could not look at them in that moment and not glimpse Santa and Mrs. Claus. Skinny rasta beard chef Santa and the missus, sparkling fairy godmother witch Mordge.

  Priceless.

  “I tell you,” Mordge went on. “It is the loveliest I’ve seen it yet outside. A blanket of fresh snow thick as icing. Everything sparkling white and silver, even the sky and the lake are silvery steel. It’s just breathtaking.”

  Jorab added the memory of his last brilliant snow.

  But Root was looking at another breathtaking view. The one that came with free parking. And she had to admit, as she laughed at her friends, it was definitely the better of the two.

  Root Karbunkulus awoke with new resolve. The Magisterial Quests of DréAmm had returned with resurrected appeal. She had a winner’s smile, untainted by the past and was ready to keep her nose out of other people’s nasty business. Jorab seemed to be quite competently carrying that weight now, which gave her a sigh of relief.

  But even she was surprised when, by mid-morning her rocket crashed. All the bolstering of the night before had faded. Once again she was crippled with worry. The meeting had gone on much longer than was expected. She and Lian and later, once he got up, Dwyn were sitting anxiously on stiff chairs, waiting. Twiddling thumbs and waiting. Wouldn’t that just be the cruelest irony that just as she had determined to reclaim the Quests they would be pulled out from under her.

  Tamik arrived hoping for news but nothing of the sort had come. She joined them, sitting on the floor until Lian gave her his seat. He wanted to stand anyhow. And pace.

  Dwyn began to busy himself with some sort of contraption that he’d been working on in his room. Though Root wanted no part of it, soon enough he had the involvement and eager advisory of Lian and Tamik. Root cringed; from them came far too much giggling. How they could find joy in this when at any second they could be ripped from the greatest race of all time! As soon as she thought it she heard Jorab’s words, Relax. But she couldn’t even bring herself to trying. She was wound too tight. And now she felt awful and angry and irritated by her friends.

  “ I need some air.” she said and left.

  Mordge had been right about the land. It was a miracle of nature, a crisp, sparkling wonderland. As soon as Root took in the freshness of its air she felt better. At the stables she hopped on Stogie and headed for her favorite place in the world, the cliffs of Deveroh Mountain. Deveroh had been a famous painter of mountain-scapes, particularly this one. Root could hardly blame his devotion. It was a place of monumental awe. And the cliffs were the pinnacle. The vista from them took Root’s breath away every single time.

  This time was no different. She stood on the new snow, listening to it crunch under her feet. Below her, a blue-grey river ran along the whole of the white valley. Evergreens towered over her in layers of untouched snow. Stogie snuffled in the ground, taking bites of its freshness onto his tongue.

  Root breathed deep. Her shoulders relaxed. This was exactly what she needed.

  She lay back in the snow. The sky was a sheet of blue ice. She closed her eyes for the brightness and when she opened them again she saw a bird soaring. She watched it, so far up, skating its wings along the very edge of the world. It looped and circled and spiraled with a mesmerizing freedom that expanded Root’s heart, all the while coming closer and closer.

  That’s when she saw that it was not a bird at all.

  She leaped to her feet.

  CPR landed with a soft trampling of hooves beside her.

  As a mature HaloEm she looked like she’d come from the snow, a magnificent sculpture of ice and fire. Her antlers were blanketed in the softest of white velvet and she didn’t seem to mind Root stroking her fingers over them at all. Nor did she take offense to Stogie’s sniffing inspection.

  Root laughed as Stogie seemed to be looking for his old friend in all that new fur and feathers. “I guess CPR doesn’t quite work anymore, eh? Hmmm, let’s see. How ‘bout Snowflake. No, that’s bad. Okay, how ‘bout Crystal? Worse. Hmmm…Sparkly?… Icedrop? Flying Popsicle? Giant Winged White Stag with huge antlers?”

  The giant winged white stag with huge antlers shook her head.

  “How ‘bout…Untitled!”

  Snort. As in hardy har har.

  “Okay, okay let me think.” Root crossed her arms and amped up the ideas.

  The soon-to-be-named giant winged white stag with huge antlers raised her head in the air. She seemed to be pointing at something.

  Root looked up. “What? There’s nothing there. It’s just the...” she stopped and smiled. “Yes! Sky! It’s perfect! But let’s spell it a little cooler, y’know, make it unique and all. How ‘bout Skie…i-e? No? Okay Skye…y-e? Wait, I got it. Skyy. With two y’s. Wha’dya think?”

  Skyy with two y’s nodded her head.

  “Yeah, it is perfect, isn’t it?” Root stroked her soft muzzle. “Right, from now on you are Skyy, the last mighty HaloEm of DréAmm!”

  Skyy bowed her great head. Root bowed back.

  Skyy pawed at the ground. Root kind of just stood there wondering if she was trying to tell her something or just felt like pawing the ground or was she wanting Root to paw the ground too?

  Then Root was off her feet, scooped onto the powerful back of her friend and rising swiftly into the air. Stogie barked and chased after them as far as his Hover limits would go but soon caught sight of fresh Bulk poo and was gone.

  Root was too elated to care. She was rising, flying, SOARING into the open sky above. “Woohoo!” she cried and pulled herself in tighter to Skyy’s shoulders. Stogie became the size of a dot and the land around him a range of white bumps and tiny green bristles along a skinny shoelace of river.

  Skyy streamed through the wind, all clumsiness fallen away. She snorted and dove down, down toward the cliffs, then spiraled up again while Root gasped and screamed in delight.

  “Let’s go see the hotel!” she called.

  Skyy pivoted and took her glittering wings into long, even strokes. They reached the castle in record time and swooped around its spires and towers.

  “The stable!” Root cried and in a breath they were over its roof and adjoining pens. Hoards of little dotted people ran and waved as they were spotted.

  “The Lake!” Root cried.

  Skyy doubled back in a giant loop and within moments Mirror Lake was reflecting the beauty and strength of the great beast and the enormous smile of her rider. More people came out to watch. They cheered and clasped their mouths as the HaloEm skimmed across the land and sky.

  Root was already packaging this moment into memory, clinging to its details, savoring its momentum. Her heart was huge and thumping. And just when she thought she could never feel more alive…

  “Root!” Dwyn called. He was running in the snow below her, no coat, no boots. Behind him, fumbling with the same lack, Lian and Tamik were in a great, dithering rush.

  “Root!” Dwyn yelled again, waving his hands. “We won! We’re in! We get to stay!”

  The words tumbled toward Root and landed like a perfect snowball.

  “We did it!” she cried “Valadors uniiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiite!”

  Lian and Tamik caught up with Dwyn. Three breathless puffs of fog in the clear cold. They watched, along with everyone else as Root disappeared over the trees.

  Root hugged Skyy’s soft furry neck. “Thank you,” she whispered. Her winged friend snorted and nodded her head in reply.

  The wind flew past Root’s cheeks, painting them even pinker. There was no sound, other than the rhythmic rise and fall of wings.

  And the beating drum of pure freedom.

  Root would remember this day for the rest of her life.

  40

  DOWN TO FIVE

  Blah, blah, blah blabber blah. Studaben Picklepug’s gums were flapping a million miles an hour. No one was listening. His butt-kissing speeches had become so pathetically routine and saccharine that most interest fell upon the burgeoning waistline of his pant
s instead. The button looked fit to pop any second.

  If he only knew that the very same people he was elevating were placing bets upon the fate of his wardrobe, perhaps he would be singing a different tune. But the Guardian was not known for astuteness and, while his button fought to stay put, his mouth unloaded.

  Root looked around. As usual the Garden Court was beautiful. Another wonderful dinner had come and gone with only one Skullk in attendance, Sir Mathelopolick. Root spied Elgart. He was positively beaming. And well he should be. He had single handedly animated an entire fleet of potted plants to cook, set, serve and clean up a banquet of five hundred people. They had been each apron-ed in royal blue and had done a marvelous job. Root’s table in particular was left quite impressed with its Rhododendron. Who knew leaves could do that? The table that had ended up with the cactus was not quite so pleased with its service. Although the nearby Aloe Vera did come to aid often enough. And it was just so kind of Lian to volunteer his Shrieking Shrub as an extra hand at the Pinks table. Surely Hilly Punyun could appreciate the exclusivity it provided. Indeed, no one else was cuddled and serenaded like that…hee hee.

  All in all, it was an amazing feat of Animata. Elgart was proud.

  But best of all was the lingering gratitude that also claimed Elgart’s heart. From the second he had freed the staircase from the ribbons and colored paper of Root’s gift box, he had loved it. “I always wanted one of my own.” He’d sniffed gratefully. And the way that staircase took to him was worth every penny Root had spent fixing it up. Now it followed him around, along with his pails and mops, ensuring Grandpa ‘Gart always had a step to sit on (like now). Root watched Elgart. He was patting it now. Patting it. “Good job, Hoskins.” He said.

  Hoskins? Sure. Why not? Root grinned.

  Picklepug droned on. Soon Root found herself wandering through Quest memories. Faces came into view. She thought about Krism and hoped that somehow he was in the care of those like Poolipity Shrugs and Cloak Guy.