The Embroidered Serpent (The Crystalline Source Book 1)

by M. Woodruff

  “Excellent! I’ll have Chef Girard prepare some of the choicest delicacies from The Hidden Sea.”

  Yep, he knew this was going to be bad.

  They arrived at The Nifty Needle and were ushered into a plush red velvet sitting room—the whole room, including the ceiling and walls—except for the floor, which was covered by a deeper red wall-to-wall carpet.

  Nels sank into the overly large crimson sofa and was enveloped by overly large pillows until he could barely see his own body. The room was surprisingly bright, even with the windows concealed by floor-to-ceiling red velvet drapes, thanks to the thousands of crystal chandeliers descending from the ceiling. Each dangling fixture ranged from a simple rope of crystal rocks to strands of intricately worked designs that emitted bright white light only slightly diffused by the red velvet wallpaper.

  Presently, a small, pale man with short hair dressed plainly in a dark tunic tucked into dark belted trousers, announced to Nels, “Welcome to The Nifty Needle. May all our needles meet all your needs.” He handed Nels a glass goblet filled with a brown bubbling liquid. “It is coffee, sir, served chilled and invigorated with air for your drinking pleasure.” He gave a slight bow, and as he left, Nels wondered why he got to wear normal looking clothes.

  “Hey, how is it you didn’t get served any cold coffee?” he asked Casandra, sitting beside him on the sofa.

  “Vanin knows I don’t like the stuff.” She pulled a face. “Too bitter for me, cold or hot, with air or without. Vanin’s the tailor, by the way. He always serves his clients personally.”

  “He didn’t look much like a tailor.”

  Casandra just shrugged.

  Vanin arrived a few moments later with assistants in tow, pushing two racks of robes and a cart of hats. Giving a wave, he announced, “Your new wardrobe, Nels Hunter. I trust you will find it to your satisfaction. It is of the highest style and quality. You may choose which outfit you will wear today and I will have the rest sent to Javin Bone’s estate. Please, browse at your leisure.” He gave another encompassing flourish as he backed away.

  “Wait. How did you know to have all of this ready? What about my measurements? And, you don’t know what I like!” Nels didn’t even know what he liked.

  “Nels Hunter, what you like doesn’t matter. I was told to expect you from your gracious host and he relayed your measurements, in detail. Now please, choose your robe for today, I am quite busy.” Vanin shot an exasperated look towards Casandra. “You may be able to help him, Casandra Farmer…maybe. If not, surely Lakido will, praise its worthy name.”

  Nels set his coffee glass down on the wooden table, hoping it would be forgotten and leave a stain.

  Looking over the variety of colored robes each emblazoned with dubious embellishments and patterns, he decided on the pink and red checkered with the squares outlined in red sequins, to match Casandra’s own red wrap dress. The matching square hat was made of the same design, but had long red tassels on each corner that hung all the way to the robe’s hem. Red-sequined sandals were also provided.

  Having donned Vanin’s creation and been inspected thoroughly, the tailor nodded his approval and left without saying a word.

  Casandra beamed. “Oh Nels, you look wonderful!”

  He knew he looked like a partially butchered pig, but the sincerity radiating from Casandra’s eyes was genuine.

  Sitting on the flying carpet, enjoying the peacefulness of hovering mode, Nels and Casandra debated on what to do next. Casandra felt they should visit the archives, while Nels didn’t think spending a beautiful day in a stuffy building was his idea of new and exciting; plus, Javin had already told them the dictates of the gods were worthless and he already had all the books with any value at his estate. Casandra reluctantly agreed, and then came up with the brilliant suggestion of visiting Lakido’s temple, since Nels was dressed so fashionably, and Lakido was the god of favorable appearance, after all.

  “I don’t know, Casandra,” Nels said, remembering their experience at Veda’s. “Lakido may not be at home.”

  “Oh pshaw! Veda is the god of unwarranted outbursts, so what did you expect?” Anyway, Lakido is very popular among the Uppers; you’ll be able to show off your new robes. Everyone will know it’s a Vanin original,” Casandra stated, as if that settled the matter.

  And it did.

  The carpet docked them alongside a golden stone pier. The parking slots were delineated by rows of miniature trees with white curving trunks and limbs, growing from a long golden planter. The huge temple itself appeared to be a solid gold creation of rounded domes and arches arranged such that it reminded Nels of the curves of a woman’s body. Even if none of the gods supposedly had a gender, surely Lakido, at least, was a male.

  “It’s not solid gold,” Casandra said as they disembarked.

  “What?”

  “The temple. It’s not solid gold; it’s only regular stone painted in gold. They have to constantly keep repainting it to keep it looking in such good condition. They contract with the Ruggles family, who run the largest paintworks in Sandrid. The head of the Ruggles family, Justus, is also the High Priest of Lakido.”

  “Hmm,” said Nels, not really interested.

  The interior was just as opulent as the exterior appeared to be. The smooth marble floor gleamed over its pattern of white and black swirls, creating the effect of various whirlpools ready to drown any devotee who would dare to appear before the god looking less than its law would allow. As expected, the columns, walls, benches, and ceiling were all painted gold; the dais at the far end of the temple was also worked in gold, and Nels found himself less than impressed. Even the magnitude of the hall and the prolific amount of stained-glass windows could do nothing to dissuade the feeling of his own flesh peeling like he was sure the paint was wont to do.

  There were only a few devotees in attendance, all overdressed in a style similar to his own. Casandra had been right to bring him here to the temple; it was easier to feel ridiculous when surrounded by it. The art of blending in; he was one of them, even if he wasn’t of their world.

  Casandra grabbed him by the arm, whispering in his ear, she cooed, “Ah, there is Domita Ruggles, the High Priest’s wife, perfect…”

  A white-haired woman was standing by the dais arranging a golden urn of red flowers that were weepers, their petals almost touching the floor. Amongst some of the petals Nels realized were the woman’s own red painted fingernails; he had never seen nails so long or so pointy. Domita Ruggles was wearing a dark red silk robe with what appeared to be black swirling designs, but it was hard to tell from this far away. Her profile showed she was a handsome woman, even with her white hair; there were no wrinkles visible on her face from this distance. Her hair was long, soft, and supple; rolled and contorted into various open spherical shapes on top of her head, it was the most beautiful thing about this entire temple.

  Casandra led the way down the center aisle to the dais with Nels trailing along behind, feeling like he was jingling. Surely there were no bells hidden within his robe or hat. He hadn’t seen any, but he wouldn’t put it past that tailor, Vanin, to use it as a clever way to announce his designs.

  Domita Ruggles glanced up as they approached, a smile lighting her face. She was even more ageless up close. “Casandra Farmer, oh, darling! It is so delightful to see you!” She spoke, genuinely, bracing Casandra’s arms and giving her kisses on each cheek.

  “And you, as well, Domita Ruggles,” Casandra said, returning the gesture, albeit shyly, with a slight pink flush to her face.

  “No need to be shy around me, young lady,” Domita tsked. “We’ll have none of that. Now, who’s this nice young man you have with you?” She was eyeing Nels with such sincerity, that he wondered if the woman was blind. He was certainly no young man with gray hair—that should be obvious. Of course, he was wearing this stupid hat. Maybe she was just partially blind.

  “Domita Ruggles, please meet Nels Hunter. He is a friend of mine and Javin Bone.”

>   Nels extended his hand to shake hers, but instead of her offering her own in the typical fashion, she lifted it as if she had no wrist bone, palm down with a huge glittering ring suddenly floating in front of his vision. He was pretty sure he didn’t hear the words out loud, but very clearly inside his head he heard, “Kiss her ring! Kiss her ring!” with an extreme amount of urgency.

  He kissed her ring. Placing his outstretched hand delicately under hers, to cover for any perceived foolishness.

  “It is my pleasure to meet you, Nels Hunter,” Domita said with a smile, obviously he had passed the manners test. “And I welcome you to the Temple of Lakido. In the name of Lakido, may your appearance always be fair to behold.” She gave a gracious nod with a slight tilt to her head, her smile earnestly fixed in place. “You are welcome to meander about the temple and its gardens. My husband will be giving his oratory shortly; we always provide refreshments afterwards, if you care to stay. I would stay and chat longer—I’d love to learn more about you, Nels Hunter—but I must help Justus prepare. We hear Lakido better working together.”

  She smiled again, but this time her smile had a secretive edge to it as if she had just recalled a practical joke she had played on her sister as a child. Nodding to them both, she gracefully turned, seemingly gliding on the air through the side door.

  “We’re not staying, are we?” Nels immediately questioned Casandra. Surely, she couldn’t have the idea it would be in any way helpful to sit through a speech about some god.

  “Yes, we’re staying,” Casandra stated in a no-nonsense voice that made Nels feel like an overgrown child. “You should attend one of these sermons and this is the best place to do it. Some of the other gods have strange…practices. Lakido is straightforward and to the point. It will do you some good, Nels Hunter, to learn a little something outside of your own world.”

  “But what’s the point?” Nels heard himself whine. “Javin said he didn’t believe in the gods anymore, so it’s just some guy making it all up…Well, and I guess that would mean that nice lady was in on it too, but surely she wouldn’t openly deceive…She was so genuine in her nature. What about you, Casandra? Do you believe in the gods?”

  She hesitated only slightly before answering. “No, I don’t; but that doesn’t mean anything one way or another. It’s just an experience we should have, and we’re going to have, and enjoy! All three! Do you hear me?” She asked, fuming.

  What in the world could have set her off so, Nels wondered. Really, there was no need for such an outburst. No, he didn’t want to stay and listen to some old windbag; but sheesh, if it meant that much to her—that they have this experience—he’d happily comply, with enjoyment oozing out of every pore.

  “I hear you, Casandra, and I think you’re right. I’ve never heard a god’s oration and I’m thrilled I have the honor to do so now,” Nels soothed.

  Casandra seemed mollified, even if she did narrow her eyes a bit.

  Just then, a voice assaulted them; booming echoes reverberated from every possible surface, causing Nels to feel his liver vibrate.

  “Casandra Farmer! Casandra Farmer! I see you! I see you!” The voice took on a singsong cadence in addition to its impossible amplification. This place must have some acoustics, Nels marveled, as his spleen took up the jig.

  “Oh no. It’s Rogers Corethought,” Casandra whispered.

  Nels turned to see the largest man ever, striding down the aisle towards them. He was so tall he made Nels feel short. His pudgy white skin was flushed red, even under his sparse patch of flaxen blonde hair. He was wearing a tan knitted vest that buttoned down the front with large wooden brown buttons, belted at the waist with a foot-wide leather belt. The vest was long enough to cover his unmentionables, but not long enough to hide the fact he was only wearing hose on his stocky legs. His black ankle boots were curiously constructed out of what appeared to be felt that turned up at the pointed toes.

  Nels sighed. This guy could’ve come straight from The Kingdom: big, dumb, and loveable.

  “What’s he doing in here?” she hissed to Nels. “He does odd jobs between the Uppers and Lowers, but he shouldn’t be in the temple proper.”

  Nels just shrugged, how should he know?

  “Rogers, what are you doing in here?” she asked as he drew closer.

  The big oaf gave a typical big-oaf grin. “I saw you come in here, Casandra Farmer, with this dinky-looking man.” Rogers looked pointedly at Nels, his grin vanishing. “I thought you might need some help,” he said, appraising Nels up and down. “Do you need help?” His appraisal obviously confirming his suspicions about Nels being a dink.

  “No, Rogers! Absolutely not!” Suddenly, remembering they were in a deathly quiet temple that echoed like nobody’s business, Casandra lowered her voice. “No. Nels Hunter is my friend. He is not a dink. He is a very nice man, just like you,” she whispered, giving Rogers a placating smile. Nels could tell the last thing she wanted was an embarrassing scene with Rogers Corethought, of all people.

  Nels, seeing Rogers evaluating him once again, gave him the most innocent, boyish smile he could muster on short notice.

  Rogers shrugged. “I still think he’s a dink, Casandra Farmer. But if you say so,” he said in his best whispering voice.

  Casandra breathed a sigh of relief.

  Nels gave her a smirk. He could tell the big guy was sweet on her, and if he was any judge of Casandra that would cause her untold amounts of humiliation if people started giving her the business about Rogers’ unrequited love. Well, he hated to see the big guy suffer; maybe there was something he could do to help him out.

  “Rogers, you know you are not supposed to be in here. I’m fine, as you can see. You better leave now, before Justus Ruggles comes in.”

  “Ohh no, I don’t have to leave, Casandra Farmer. Domita Ruggles says I may sit and listen to the sermons. As long as I do it quietly and don’t fidget. Oh, and sit on the back row so people can see around me. Yes, I’ve been sitting and listening real good.” Rogers beamed. “She’s even given me pieces of chocolate for sitting and listening real good.”

  “Have you learned anything from sitting and listening real good, Rogers?” Nels quipped.

  Rogers gave an exasperated sigh. “I just told you, dimwit. I get chocolate if I sit and listen real good, so that’s what I do and I get free chocolate. I bet you won’t get any free chocolate from Domita Ruggles.”

  “No, you’re probably right, I won’t,” Nels agreed, sagely.

  Rogers grinned. “Yeah, I learn real fast.”

  “Nels, let’s find a seat. It was good to see you again,” Casandra said sweetly, hoping upon hope that Rogers would take the hint.

  He didn’t.

  “Ohh no, you must sit in the back with me. If you do, maybe, Domita Ruggles will give you some chocolates, too, Casandra Farmer. I’ll ask her. Not for you, though, Nels Hunter,” Rogers said, sticking his bulbous nose in the air with a disdainful look.

  Nels gave Rogers a manly pat on the back. “Ah, you’re a good man, Rogers Corethought. It’s always wise to give sweets to the ladies. Softens them up, so to speak. Yes, Rogers Corethought, you are smart, indeed.” He pushed the big man a bit forward. “Lead the way, my friend,” he said, turning to give Casandra a wink.

  “You’re dead,” he promptly heard in his head as Casandra’s face turned to stone.

  The threesome settled onto the last wooden bench with Casandra on the end, Rogers in the middle, and Nels wondering how such a beautifully plush cushion could sit so hard.

  “I normally sit where you’re sitting now,” Rogers pseudo-whispered in his ear.

  That explains it.

  Nels shuffled around in Rogers’ buttock imprint as best as he could. He would really prefer to scoot down a bit, but he didn’t want to hurt the big guy’s feelings, if he had any. One could never tell with these guys. They often didn’t mind being called every name in the book or having their intelligence insulted in every way possible, but not finishin
g eating the cupcake they baked for you could cause your head to get bashed in with a four-foot club quicker than you could stuff the remaining crumbs in your mouth.

  Nels wasn’t taking any chances. He stayed nestled up right beside Rogers’ massive bicep like it was the sexiest woman in the world.

  Casandra had her left elbow on the bench rail and her chin in her hand; her legs were crossed away from them and she was leaning towards the aisle as much as possible, ignoring them both. Her golden-balled sandal quietly clacking as she swung her foot up and down, repeatedly.

  Nels was starting to feel mildly comfortable when Justus Ruggles emerged on the dais. He was wearing a duplicate robe that matched his wife’s. His hair, though, was short, but just as white and luminous, as well as his carefully groomed mustache. He was smaller than Nels would’ve imagined for a High Priest. Not that he really knew what to expect; he would’ve just thought a god’s voice would be as impressive as the god itself was supposed to be.

  Justus cleared his throat, then threw his hands up in the air invoking Lakido. He quickly put them back down without saying a word. Bowing his head slightly, he began mumbling to himself in an apparent argumentative fashion, complete with head shaking and harsh hand gestures. When the conflict finally resolved itself, Justus Ruggles looked up at his rapt audience with a beatific smile.

  “Gathered devotees, I welcome you today to the House of Lakido. Your presence does the god honor, especially those of you who have chosen to wear your finest. Lakido is pleased; and in Lakido’s pleasure your obeisance will be rewarded with Lakido’s favor in every aspect of your appearance. May you all walk with your head up and your shoulders back in this world of poor dress and poorer posture. Remember, my fellow devotees, we lead by the example of our finery: always putting our best sandal forward to others in a show of fashionable compassion.

  “Now, following in the same vein, our lesson today will be on keeping our hands and feet properly groomed. We must never be seen with calluses…blisters… dirty and chipped nails……warts…or……… fungus!—Lakido forbid!” Justus intoned, as the whole audience collectively shuddered, some even stifling gasps. Rogers held his hands out for examination then quickly sheltered them under his armpits.