Vivian Amberville - The Weaver of Odds

by Louise Blackwick

  ‘About time! We’ve been waiting on you for—’ Vivian broke in mid-sentence, her eyes following the track of tears racing across Kate’s swollen face. ‘What’s wrong with you now?’

  ‘L-Lucian,’ Kate sobbed, averting her eyes. ‘He’s not c-coming with us...’

  ‘What?’

  Lucian Blossom lowered his chin, fixing his eyes upon an indetermined spot on the marble floor.

  ‘I’ve— I’ve decided to stay,’ he murmured, without looking at the others. ‘I’ve been offered a position within the High Court – and I, umm— I said I’ll do it. It’s… it’s what I’ve always wanted—’

  Kate turned her back to him, and sped away, her face hidden in her palms.

  ‘I… I don’t know what to say, Lucian,’ mumbled Vivian, perfectly aware of Kate’s muffled crying a short distance away. ‘Is this what you really want?’

  ‘I never felt more certain of anything in my life,’ Lucian answered.

  Behind his spectacles, Vivian noticed his eyes twinkled with the awakened light of a dream. It was the feverish, tickle-pink look of people who had found their life purpose.

  ‘What will you be doing?’ Vivian beamed. On the other side of the room, Kate blew her nose loudly, making a horn-like sound.

  ‘ Keeper of Scrolls for the Record Room,’ said Lucian through a wide smile. ‘Can you believe the honour? I can finally quench my thirst for Alarian stories!’

  ‘That’s... that’s great, Lucian. Better job than your last,’ Vivian leaned forward and shook his hand. ‘Hope it makes you happy.’

  ‘I’m sure it will. Take care of yourself, Vivian— you too, Kate!’ said Lucian sunnily, but Kate merely let out an “hmph!”, and resumed her place by Vivian’s side without dignifying him with a final handshake, a hand-wave, not even a look, and Lucian guiltily resumed his pointless staring at the marble floor.

  Every pair of eyes now turned to the remarkable shape-shifter before them, whose Kaalà-imbibed skin had stretched into what looked like human-sized hole in the fabric of space. An empty tunnel materialized out of thin air, to everyone else’s curiosity and awe.

  ‘See you all soon!’ Vivian waved, stepping into the tunnel, and Kate followed suit, a large leather satchel in hand, her eyes deliberately avoiding Lucian and the deafening crowd of well-wishers and goodbye-sayers.

  The crowds disappeared in a swirl of colour and shape, and Vivian and Kate were plunged into a deep, impenetrable darkness, and from that darkness, a voice—

  ...the Madhad state will close the Shelter for Strays. Little miss must return soon...

  ‘Miles?’ Vivian garbled aloud, and the darkness gave birth to the tiniest lights, which they immediately pursued, their feet breaking into a wild run.

  Little miss? Is that you, little miss?

  ‘Yes Miles, it’s me! It’s us!’ Vivian’s voice rang with joy, the end of the tunnel drawing closer with every step.

  Has little miss returned to the old crib?

  ‘We’re coming home, Miles!’ Kate confirmed, and taking Vivian by the hand, they stepped out of the tunnel and into Vivian’s old sleeping room, where they found Miles with his back turned to them, talking to what looked like a blank stretch of wall.

  The tunnel closed behind them with a soft fizz, and the Hole-in-the-Wall rolled onward, exhausted, his hairy feet stretched across the warm bedroom floor. Vivian rushed forward to pick him up.

  ‘See Kaap? Didn’t I say you could do it? Didn’t I say you could tunnel through anything , even the Shroud?’

  And the sound of Vivian Amberville’s voice turned Miles Fenn’s great withered face like a whiplash, his weary eyes stopping upon the curiously-shaped creature Vivian was cradling, whose fur had just changed a violent shade of blue.

  ‘I knew I h-heard little m-miss voice,’ he stuttered, and Vivian threw her arms around the thin old man, her face swamped with tears. ‘But h-how? You’ve been gone for over five days! How?’

  ‘That would be a long story, Miles’ said Vivian. ‘Longer than anything you’ve ever narrated, I’m sure.’

  ‘The others must know!’ piped the butler. ‘I must summon them at once!’

  And within that short minute during which Miles rushed out of the room to announce the return of their mistress, her eyes fell on the nightstand, and the dusty glass-case with the words “Vivian Amberville” painstakingly painted on, in black and in gold.

  ‘What are you doing?’ whispered Kate at the sight of Vivian bringing an ominous-looking stapler close to her ear.

  ‘Weaving some odds,’ was all Vivian said, before clicking the microchip deep into her earlobe and rushing forward to embrace the beautiful Ayesha, and the kindly Chef Benoît, and even that scoundrel, Angus Trimmings, and Miles again – for she had missed him most.