Return To Lan Darr

by Anderson Atlas

  Allan arrives to find a small, thin man blowing on the end of the horn. He is wearing a long green tunic and a red top hat and has a long white beard. The horn rises up, braced by supports, snakes down and back up, ending in a huge bell.

  The man finishes his long single note and blows one more, which is astonishingly long for such a small person. He turns, red faced, and sees Allan. Immediately, the man throws his arms back to the horn then blows a staccato rhythm over and over.

  Allan waits patiently for him to finish. Afterward, another horn, far away, possibly from the city, mimics the rhythm. The short man hops down the rock steps.

  “Wow, a human, on this particular day!” He says in a high-pitched voice.

  “Hello, sir,”

  The man looks over Allan and his wheelchair, his eyes wide and full of excitement. “You’ve come a long way in a chair.”

  “Yes, I, er, can’t walk. But that doesn’t stop me.”

  “Obviously.” The man’s hands find his hips. “We’re going to have to take two cars into town. Oh, where are my manners? Welcome to Katonaay!” He shakes Allan’s hand with clammy palms. “I’m Gible.”

  Allan introduces himself and asks, “Cars you say?” Allan smiles, anything other than rolling down this mountain sounds very nice.

  “Yes, that is the only way.” The man looks at the chair, “For you anyway.” He runs back to the horn and blows a different sound. The valley horn responds.

  Allan feels his exhaustion wash away like dust in a river. “This is cool, let’s go.”

  The man leads Allan to the other side of the peninsula. Two golden-haired goats with harnesses stand near the cliff edge. At the edge is an A-frame that holds up two thick ropes. The ropes drop off the cliff. Allan rolls to the edge and looks down. The ropes don’t go straight down, but they swoop to smaller A-frames protruding from bluffs and eventually end up on the valley floor. Tall poles anchor the ropes to the rock, looking like a network of telephone lines.

  Gible places two fruits into a hanging basket near the goats’ snouts. The goats start to walk toward the fruit, but they aren’t going anywhere. They are on a large wheel. The wheel turns and winds up the rope. The goats reach for the food, but can’t quite get to it. The harness keeps them centered on the wheel.

  A shape rises from the valley, pulled up by the ropes. As it gets closer it is obvious that the ‘cars’ Gible spoke of are carriages. The whole contraption resembles a ski lift, though more rickety.

  Allan’s eyes get wide. “I was picturing a slightly less death-defying car ride.”

  “Oh, this is perfectly safe. I’ve gone up and down, up and down plenty of times.” The man waits patiently for the carriages to get to the top. “We will take the first one and your chair can go down the next. Oh, I do hope it fits.”

  “My chair folds, it will fit,” Allan concludes looking at the carriage space.

  The carriage gets to the top A-frame and stops. It triggers a latch, which tips the basket toward the goats. The goats snatch the fruit and gobble it up. “Eecha,” Gible says and pets the goats’ golden fur. The carriage has a small door on the side. Gible unlatches it and waves Allan over.

  “This is crazy.” Allan doesn’t move. “I… I can’t do this. Isn’t there another way?”

  Gible huffs, “No other way. I just came up a moment ago. We use it all the time and never have trouble. Trust me.” Gible smiles wide, exposing gaps where teeth used to be.

  Allan takes a deep breath and reminds himself that he’s got no other option. He parks his chair next to the carriage and locks the wheels. Gible holds the carriage from rocking as Allan bounces inside. It’s as wide as a ski lift, but enclosed at the front, slightly resembling a shoe. The car rocks with his weight. A panicky feeling bounces around under his ribcage. “Do you have a seat belt?”

  “Why on Katonaay would a seat need to wear a belt?”

  “A seat belt is a strap that holds you in. Keeps you from falling to certain death! What about a helmet? Or a really fluffy pillow?”

  Gible chuckles. “You’ll have fun, sir. Trust me, I say.”

  “Yes, I’m sure you think this is fun,” Allan mumbles. “You swim with sharks too? Chase lions?”

  “Oh, Allan Westerfield. You will love Katonaay and it will love you too. You will not want to leave.” Gible’s eyes get wide as he pulls the rope that releases the carriage from the frame. The carriage slides down the rope, picking up speed.

  “AHHHHHHH” Allan cries out, squeezing his eyes shut. He feels the ground zoom up to him. His stomach leaps into his throat. The cliff face blurs.

  The carriage slows as the rope nears one of the telephone poles anchored to one of the lower bluffs. It gets to the pole and rolls over the bracket then falls down to the next pole. Allan looks out and starts to enjoy the ride. “Yeah!” The carriage picks up speed again. This time, Allan raises his hands and yells.

  The carriage races down the rope, slowing at the poles a half dozen more times. Finally, the last pole is left behind and the carriage glides over the tops of the colorful jungle canopy along the valley floor. This part of the ride is easy going. Allan leans forward and looks down into the jungle. The carriage rocks forward. Birds are everywhere and other dark furry creatures, too. The breeze cools his sweat-soaked shirt.

  The end of the line nears. There’s a stone archway and a crowd of twenty or so people and creatures underneath it. A furry thing in front wears a fancy red dress with frills and sequins and has a necklace of flowers. Its hairdo is tied up on top of its head, but splays out like an umbrella. Others have similar fancy hairdos dyed a variety of colors and plastered curls, spikes, arches, and frills. Some have makeup on in a variety of colors: eyeliner drawn in sweeping designs and bright lipstick. They wear dresses or suits adorned with fur or feathers that stick out of sleeves and cuffs.

  Drums thump and flutes sing out. Hands wave and voices cheer. More join the crowd, pleased and waving.

  Allan waves back, loving the celebrity treatment from both Katonaay and Peebland. Beyond the crowd are pathways and stairs that rise into a large city clustered with homes and buildings. It’s a big city, though still primitive. No lamps or any signs of electricity, but maybe they have those energy crystals.

  The city reminds Allan of Dantia, with its uneven construction. The difference being, Dantia has skyscrapers and towers and this city resembles clusters of villas more familiar to the shoreline of Greece.

  “Welcome, traveler!” They call out in unison.

  The furry creature with the red poufy dress holds out her white-gloved hand to Allan. “I’m Uma Mesa, the Supreme Ruler in Katonaay.”

  “Uh, hi there.”

  “Another carriage comes!” someone from the crowd yells.

  “That’s just my wheelchair,” Allan says.

  “A what-chair?” Uma Mesa says.

  “I can’t walk. I use the chair to get around.”

  “Oh, how marvelous.”

  The carriage with Allan’s wheelchair slams into the back of his chair. The crowd whoops and hollers, and Allan is pulled from his seat and deposited in his chair by the people of Katonaay.

  Allan places his feet on the footholds and straps his legs in. The chair is like a cozy bed, and he feels relief wash over him. He looks at the balloon he’d tied to his chair, still floating lazily in the breeze. Maybe that balloon was from another party celebrating a different traveler.

  “We’ve begun a celebration for your arrival,” Uma Mesa says. She brushes her plumb hairstyle away from her vivid blue eyes while leading Allan down a wide road lined with white stucco homes. The windows are simple holes, the doors are dark wood, and the pointy roofs are covered with orderly tiles or ornate, sweeping wood designs. Soon they enter a downtown area where the buildings are three stories tall. Businesses fill the bottom floors and sell everything from food to clothing to stoneware to pieces of artwork. More and more brightly dressed people and creatures come to see Allan and wave to him. Clusters of ballo
ons are brought to Allan until he has so many he thinks he might float away.

  Smaller monkey-like creatures dressed in white overalls and pillbox caps scurry before Allan, putting up fences covering the alleys in between the buildings. The fences are lavishly decorated with symbols and designs.

  “We love to celebrate here in Katonaay. There is nothing better in the world! You will see, we are the funnest people in all the galaxy.” Uma Mesa waves to the crowd with a cupped hand like she’s the main attraction in a parade.

  Streamers fling out the windows, and the band grows to over two-dozen strange and twisted golden instruments.

  Someone puts a large iced drink in Allan’s hand. It’s sweet and frothy like a root beer float. Allan waves and sips, smiles, points, and waves again. I could live like this!

  One of the white fences falls forward smacking the cobblestone sidewalk. Behind the fence are a dozen people and creatures in the shadows. They’re dirty and in torn rags and thin as death. Allan’s eyes connect with one of the dirty people.

  Some of the monkey-workers quickly erect the fence covering the scene.

  “Who are those people? In the alleys? They homeless?” Allan asks.

  “Oh, ho ho,” Uma Mesa chuckles. “They’re not homeless, they’re home free!”

  Allan’s eyebrows rise. “Right, I see.”

  “We’re a loving people here. If you don’t want to work, you don’t have to. We love everyone. You don’t even have to go to school!” she says, proceeding down the road.

  They head toward a huge palace at the end of the road. The frontage is bright white with red cone-topped towers, potted flowers under the windowsills, and a dozen flags snapping in the wind. “We celebrate life and we welcome all.”

  Uma Mesa continues, “Katonaay is a waypoint between Bileen, Cattahit, Lan Darr, CeeVvis, and seventeen other worlds. Hubbu plants bloom year round here and in all the colors. So, many trading partners deliver goods here and we send them off to their final destination. We take a percentage of that shipping and give it to the people. To ALL the people.”

  Furry creatures hang from the windows of the palace and wave flags.

  “Our palace has four hundred and three rooms. You’ll see how many fun things there are to do here. You can have anything you want. Any treat, drink, or game is here for you.”

  “Really?” Allan wonders about the ones hiding in the alley. He doesn’t ask, but those haunting eyes, crusted and tear-filled, stay with him. They aren’t getting everything they need.

  Allan is led over a small bridge and through a tall archway and into the palace. Two huge double doors open up to a grand ballroom crowned with sparkling chandeliers and more balloons of every color. Food covers a dozen tables, and at the far side of the dance floor is a large stage. A hundred people and creatures, or more, dressed in fancy clothes and speaking many languages, funnel in behind Allan, and the huge band moves to the stage and begins to play lively songs.

  Allan tastes a dozen treats and chats with strange-looking people. He finds himself answering the same questions he’d been asked on Peebland and quickly grows tired of it. He tries to dance with the locals, but rolls over too many hairy toes and smudges too many polished shoes.

  The night continues and Allan is led to room after room. The first room is a grill where they serve hamburger-like sandwiches—the best he’s ever tasted. The next is a round atrium filled with musicians playing in the largest drum circle Allan has ever seen. After that is a long hall lined with carnival games. Allan tosses basketball-like balls into hoops and wins a huge black-and-white stuffed animal that looks like a cross between a frog and a pig.

  Allan passes a dunk tank, ignoring the creature that dares him to hit the target with a ball and dunk him in Fooba Cider.

  A door opens at the end of the hall. Allan peeks inside. It’s a bar crowded with people drinking and laughing. The lights are low and the music is a more rhythmic hum and beat. “You could go get a beer or some wine. We don’t mind here. There is no age limit to drinking,” Uma Mesa states.

  Allan waves off the invitation. “Nah, I don’t really like the taste.”

  “No problem at all!”

  Allan and the crowd that has been following him, with their painted faces and cheerful suggestions, end up back at the main dance floor. Allan feels warm inside with so many nice people around him. They’re all so welcoming and interested in what he has to say. He feels light in the head and rolls through the crowd to the outer wall to rest.

  A woman with a painted white face, pink cheeks, and a tall hairdo introduces herself. “Hello, my name is Seleena.” Her eyes are big and hazelnut. Her fur is much finer than Uma Mesa’s, almost invisible, and her snout is more shallow. She almost looks human, almost.

  “Nice to meet you.”

  Seleena snatches a handful of cookies from a table piled high with treats and tucks them into her purse quickly, glancing around. “Are you enjoying yourself?”

  “Yes, very much.” Allan sucks on a Popsicle, intermittently taking sips from his drink. “I could stay here forever.”

  “You could. They would love that.” Seleena slips another handful of cookies into her purse until it bulges.

  Allan lowers his voice. “You don’t sound as sure as the others.” He’s not sure he’s heard her over the loud music.

  Seleena puts her arm around Allan. Her fur is as soft as silk on his neck. She leans to his ear. “This place isn’t what it seems.” Seleena smiles wide, cracking some of the makeup around her eyes.

  Uma Mesa spins to a stop near Allan. “Dear boy, are you all tuckered out?” She raises her hand and snaps her fingers. A servant in a white suit plops a chair next to her and she sits. “Don’t you just love it here?”

  Allan nods. “It’s great,” he says, though his eyes look past Uma Mesa to Seleena who isn’t smiling, but saying something else with her hard glare. Allan isn’t quite sure what she’s trying to say, but he has the distinct impression she could get in trouble for it.

  “I’m ambassador to all newcomers. I’m here with duties that go beyond a mere meet and greet.” She opens her purse made of some sort of animal skin and digs out a golden key. “I offer you this key. It opens the door to a home that could be yours. After we swim in the Silver Springs of Youth, which are very fine, warm-water mountaintop tubs and ride the Skimmer Dragons over the Sea Way, you’ll want to stay here, and you’ll have a fine home to rest your head and to plant roots.” She lets Allan look at the key for a few moments then puts it back in her purse. “Life here is simple and good, you’ll see.”

  Uma Mesa’s face is so nice and fuzzy and her eyes so warm that Allan should believe her. However, something about her pitch sounds too good to be true.

  “I’m very tired.” Allan yawns, his eyes dry and itchy.

  With a snap of her fingers the musicians lay down their instruments and the dancing stops. Wooden doors under the stage open, and racks filled with oversized pillows are rolled out. A giant pillow is placed next to Allan by one of the monkeys in white. Allan scoots himself off his chair and onto the pillow. It’s velvety, deep purple, and like a beanbag. He sinks into a supportive and comfortable position. The stuffed animal he’d won earlier makes a great pillow. His muscles release, and relaxation flows through his body like water through a desert wash. The lights dim.

  Many creatures have left, though many remain and take comfort on the pillows. There are whispers and some chuckles, but eventually the quiet sets in as the partiers fall to sleep.

  Though Allan would have liked a room to himself, he doesn’t much mind being surrounded by friendly faces.

  Chapter 16

  The Trap Closes Softly

  Allan hopes to fall asleep after all the eating, games, conversation, and dancing, but his mind won’t relax. He thinks about living here. Making friends seems so easy, and there are no expectations. He doesn’t have to be great or smart. He can be himself here, love life, and have fun. Who needs the stress of a career and
the hustle and bustle that humans seem to embrace? Allan pictures himself living in one of the villas, eating a hamburger on the porch, surrounded by jars filled with candies. Friends would visit every day, and they’d play games. The image lasts but a moment. Then what is there to do?

  He wonders about the other attractions on Katonaay. The Silver Springs of Youth, according to Uma Mesa, are salty hot springs with as many slides and diving platforms as there are colors in the rainbow. She also mentioned a road over the bay called the Sea Way, which leads to coastal towns, zoos, and more rides.

  I don’t need to go home to Rubic, to school, to Earth. Laura wouldn’t miss me. Rubic would, but I could visit him. It’s not like I can’t travel back to Earth whenever I want.

  Allan laces his fingers behind his head. He stares up at the dim lanterns that crowd the ceiling. I’ll go get Asantia and see if she wants to come back here with me.

  Uma Mesa, who had taken a huge pillow next to Allan, taps him on his elbow. “Dear young one, are you not sleeping?” She looks a mess. Her vibrant lipstick is smudged and her hair flattened on one side. She tries to repair the damage to her hairdo. “One must get their beauty sleep.” After ten minutes of tucking loose curls and repinning braids to little effect, she gives up. Her small muzzle, with delicate fur, opens wide as she yawns, exposing large, white teeth and two sharp canines. Her features, so utterly alien to Allan, are not threatening or strange. None of his new friends make Allan feel awkward. It must be because they all speak English. Or Boldarian, as they call it.

  “I was just thinking about what you do here. I mean every day. Not just when there’s a visitor.”

  Uma Mesa rests her head on her hands and settles herself in the pillow. “Oh we love it here. We celebrate so many things.” Her eyes are bloodshot, and her eyelids are half closed.

  “Like what?”

  “Every night the palace has a party. Tomorrow we will swim in the pools and maybe go feed the animals at the zoo. Then we return to the palace.” She yawns wide. “So lovely here.” Her eyes flutter closed. “I’ve been ambassador for over thirty years.” Her voice fades out as she falls asleep.