“Kar!” I shouted.
The singing ceased.
“Kar!” I called again.
“In here,” came a whispered reply from beneath the very stair step where I sat.
I thrust my head between the golden bars of the railing and the grinning face of Kar greeted me. She stood next to an opening in the tower wall, a gap made by a dislodged marble block on which her hand rested. I have never lived a happier moment.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
The Lair of the Garl
“Come in here, Bek, come in! It’s a room! Watch me close the wall behind us.”
“Why are we whispering?”
“Because it’s exciting! I’m the first bendo dreen ever to visit the Tower of the Garl. You’re the second.”
“Garl? How do you know it’s….”
“The jrabe. The jrabe! The jrabe told me! She was here. She showed me how to move the stone. Watch… What about that? Can you believe it? Jark dweg me! A spell!”
“She gave you magic?”
“Such. Just that bit as a reward for my boldness. So she said. Then she went down to visit the garl. She said ‘up’, but she meant our sort of ‘down’. The marble of this tower is like Honeygold’s, I bet. Don’t you think?”
“Yes, so, but, Kar, the jrabe, the garl? Tell me.”
“When the tower formed around me, I thought it was a shapeshifter, but it’s not. It’s not. In truth, I said ‘Are you a shapeshifter?’ to the wall. A voice said, ‘No.’ So I said, ‘Then why are you talking?’ And the voice said, ‘The wall be not talking’, and I turned around and the upside down jrabe was hanging there. ‘Let us climb up to the waiting room now that ye have discovered the tower,’ she said. I asked her ‘Why?’ and ‘What about Bek?’ and she said, ‘Up to the waiting room. I’ll tell ye there.’ So I nodded so, and took a step up. ‘Up! I said up!’ snapped the jrabe, and she began to sink down the shaft. Down is up. Up is down. I forgot.”
“Then what happened?”
“I came down here and she opened the wall with that magic wrist thing I showed you and brought me into this room. The waiting room. ‘Have ye solved the song clue?’ she asked me right away first. ‘No,’ I said. ‘Has the quiet one done so?’ she asked about you. I told her I didn’t think so, I wasn’t sure. Have you?”
“No.”
“Such is what I thought was so. But then, then came the good part! She told me about the garl! Oh, Bek, the Lair of the Garl is at the bottom of the tower stairs! She said ‘top’, but surely so she meant ‘bottom’. It’s the garl singing you heard! Such is so! The jrabe said I must wait. The jrabe said she would go up first. She said when the garl began to sing we could approach the Lair. She said it so, ‘It be a truth that ye may approach the garl as a pair only. If the second bendo dreen be afeared to join ye, ye will awaken in bed at home with your slate of memory wiped clean.”
“Memory wiped? Our Gwer drollek lost?”
“But you weren’t afeared, Bek! You’re here! You’re here!”
“Kar, stop dancing. I’m here, yes. But how do we get to the ending so we can go home?”
“Simple. We have to solve the puzzle of the door. There’s a puzzle door a sort of such like the Path of No Return in the Gwer drollek story of the River Dragon and Lorelei Lo.”
“Puzzle door?”
“It’s the door at the bottom of the tower which leads to the Lair of the Garl. I snuck down and saw it! You can look right through it! It’s not there, but it is! Bek, I saw a tentacle!”
“You’ve seen the racketous garl?”
“One tentacle only. I’m the first bendo dreen ever. You’ll be the second. All we have to do is figure out how to get through that invisible door. You can do it, Bek. You’re learning the Roamer runes.”
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Kar Saves Me Again
Such and so very many things remained unclear to me. Too much information flew into me too fast. I forced Kar to repeat everything she’d said, but slower. Still and true, it didn’t help. I remained fuddled.
“Well then, I’ll just drag you down and we’ll look!” said Kar, losing patience, grabbing my jacket sleeve.
She fluttered her wrist in the stone-moving way, and the marble block door swung open. My brain spun with awe at seeing my jark dweg best friend perform such and so a magical feat. She tugged at me. I stumbled after her. We descended the spiral stone stairway. Kar chattered her usual chatter. I maintained my usual silence and stared at the smooth and curving golden marble walls streaked with spidering veins of white, the cool gold shine on the bars of the railing, the chopped perfection and fit of each marble step, Kar’s yellow green hand clutching the gray sleeve of my jacket, the purple cuff of my shirt sleeve riding the knuckles of my own yellow green hand.
“There,” announced Kar triumphantly.
“Oh,” was all I could answer.
We had reached the marble floor of the tower, the final step descended. Facing us was an arched doorway through which I could see a plain dirt path in dim blue flickering light leading to an enormous pit.
“I saw the tentacle rising from that pit,” whispered Kar, leaning closer.
“That’s the invisible door?” I asked dully.
“Yes. I was the first bendo dreen to see it. You, Bek, have to think us through it. You’re the one who thinks,” Kar whispered in my ear.
“Why is it like the Path of No Return?” I asked, whispering. Whispering seemed right.
“Every time you walk in, you find yourself walking back out, even if you go backward. I know. I tried it,” said Kar. “I tried it sideways, too. That didn’t work either. Such.”
“Oh,” I said. “To conquer the Path of No Return, wings were needed, flying of some sort. Such is how the story goes. We don’t have wings. We….”
There then is when I was interrupted by a hollow voice singing out from beyond the doorway down in the pit. I clung to Kar.
“Sharumin’s golden flow, westward does it run,
There I’ll grow my carrots deep, hiding from the sun.
And yet, and yet, the emerald wings, will they find my lair?
West and west, ever west, led by a YOUNGLING PAIR.
In loomy bloys I case my toys, bring carrots down and up,
Black and gray and yellow green, with YOUNGLINGS I will sup.”
“We should go home now. We found the garl,” I quickly announced to Kar, and I turned to run up the stairs.
“We didn’t sup yet,” yelled Kar, and she tackled me.
It turned out to be a fortune Kar tackled me. The bars of the stairway railing began to bend, whip, pull free and snap. The stairs themselves bulged and tilted and cracked. The tower walls sprang to a dangerous sort of life, the blocks of marble pushing in, tumbling out, crashing down. Kar dragged me to the doorway arch and threw me aside when a gigantic block above the arch shrugged free and plunged, smashing to the floor. The whine of whipping rail bars and the roar of shattering walls clawed at my head. I struggled to my knees. Kar climbed to the collapsing gap in the wall above the arch. She reached down a hand. I took it. She pulled. I kicked and fought up. With a final heave, Kar fell back, hauling me after her. We bumped in a clumsy heap on the path of dirt in the dim blue light. The rumble roar subsided. Lost in a blue fog of dust, we sat. Kar had saved me for the second time.
“Kar?” I gasped.
“I solved it,” said Kar. “I was the first through. We had to go OVER the doorway, didn’t we, Bek?”
“Welcome to my loomy bloys!” boomed a hollow voice from somewhere hidden beyond the cloud of churning blue dust. I knew that the somewhere was the pit.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
The Garl
“What’s for supper?” called out Kar with her jark dweg boldness. “We’re the youngling pair come to sup. We found you. So this is loomy bloys. We never understood that part. Will the New Rumin be built here?”
During the while of all Kar’s chatter, she pulled at me, trying to get m
e to move. Truth, I resisted. I admit that I thought the racketous garl would eat us. The words the garl had sung were “with younglings I will sup”, but I could easily hear them as “ON younglings I will sup”. Such was the sudden so that occurred to me at that time. Thus, I resisted Kar’s tugging.
“Come closer. What for do you delay? And yet, and yet, why not delay until the dust subsides? A practical thought, well crafted. To be seen while getting acquainted would be a well worth wait. Carrots, wonderfully slivered by my clawed tentacle and brushed clean by my feathered tentacle, I have prepared for your visit many times. And yet, today is the first time you are here to eat them,” boomed the hollow voice, the garl.
“Carrots, huh? We bendo dreen like roots. In truth, we love ’em! Don’t we, Bek? I am Kar, and here is Bek. Bek it was who made me adventure. I never knew such things could be so. That’s a good idea to wait for the dust to settle. I had a glimpse of your pit earlier. It would be a shame to fall into it,” chatted Kar in her cracked melon way.
Kar and the garl exchanged empty bubble words while I sat like a lump and waited for the dust to clear. It took quite some time before the murky blue gave way, but Kar and the garl babbled unceasing for the entire span, from thick blue braids of dust twisting to dim blue clarity. I could finally see the flat sheet of dim blue light above. I realized the ceiling above the garl’s pit was, truth, the bottom of the lake! The pit yawned before us. I saw tentacles slithering, oh so many!
“I see your tentacles!” cried Kar. “They are thicker than I thought they would be. Let’s move closer, Bek”
She tugged on my jacket. I gave up and allowed myself to be dragged forward. We came to the edge of the pit. A shiver of weakness attacked my legs at the sight of the racketous garl. The wide mouth smiled. The seven eyes glowed red. The terror of the Gwer drollek story come to life slapped me in the face. The smaller mouths smiled, too. Such was so. Three of the noses bent this way and that, as the story says, and the rest of ’em were straight and well-formed. The magnificent ear, huge and covered with blue hair, glowed softly. Green moss grew in patches on the bulbous head. All of the garl sparkled silver with glittering scales. One thick tentacle unrolled at us, offering us carrot slivers balanced on its tip. Kar gathered them with a nod of thanks, popped some into her mouth and gave some to me. I just stood there.
“A good taste, better than our common hedge roots,” said Kar. “I am the first bendo dreen to eat a carrot straight from the tentacle, I bet. Tell me, garl, now that we have found you, where are you going to build the New Rumin for the greenwings?”
“You waste little time, youngling,” the wide mouth said. “And yet, and yet, why should time be wasted? I will tell you what you might be surprised to know. New Rumin has already been built, heaps of gold, mirrors, and all. The greenwing dragonwings are living there, and have been for bars of years. I remain here in loomy bloys with my toys.”
“But Med of the East! She said the greenwings had to find you first. The song clue,” I, Bekka of Thorns, such was so, said, confusion giving me voice.
“Oho, the Silent One speaks,” said one of the garl’s smaller mouths in the self same hollow voice used by the wide mouth. Then all of the mouths took turns, never one interrupting another. “Med of the East. Yes. And the water sorceress, the jrabe, don’t forget. And yet, and yet, these younglings still seem jumbled in mind. Do not fret, younglings. All will be explained. And yet, and yet, will it? So. I myself will take you to Med of the East. Climb aboard my feathered tentacle. It gives the most comfortable ride.”
Chapter Thirty
A Ride on the Garl
Kar hopped on the tentacle as if she had done it a thousand times. I, such was so, hung back, still not convinced the garl wouldn’t eat us.
“Come along, Bek. This is a soft tentacle. Softer than my home hedge bed or yours. The feathers have a silky feel,” said Kar with a happy grin.
I had never seen Kar so happy. I had seen her silly many times, but never plain common happy. I wrapped her happiness around me and stepped to the tentacle. I settled myself on its soft silky feathers and attached myself to Kar, gripping her in a hug around the waist. I pressed my face against her pack.
“And yet, and yet, we go,” boomed the garl.
We sank slowly into the pit. As we descended, we passed shelves on all sides loaded with oddments the such of like I did not know. Strange shapes, oddly twisted, many colors.
“This is where you case your toys in the loomy bloys. Am I right, garl?” piped up Kar.
“You are right,” boomed one of the small mouths, and another one added, “Hang on tight.”
I wanted to ask “why,” but I didn’t need to. In a flash, we plunged into darkness and sped, the winds of rush tearing by us. I squeezed tighter to Kar. We raced, we flew in blackness on the star glittering silver mass of garl. All the tentacles streamed out behind the bulbous head.
“Bek! Bek! This is the Gwerest drollek ever! Who has ridden a garl?! Us! Us only! We’re the first! Me, then you! Who knows that the garl can fly?! Us! Us only! What a story you will have to write!” enthused Kar.
I clung.
“Not too far now. And yet, and yet, what may be far for one is truly near for another,” boomed the wide mouth. “Pardon my grip, but we’re going up.”
I wanted to ask “What grip?”, but I didn’t need to. The feathered tentacle looped around us and held us as the garl swerved and shot straight up. I could see a tiny round of blue sky far above. The round grew larger and the garl rose more slowly. We emerged on the rim of a great crater. We settled on the peak of a mountain island thrusting up from an endless sea. I saw waves breaking far below on sand. I had never seen waves, only knew ’em from stories. I saw jungle thickness blanketing the slopes of the mountain. I had never seen jungle thickness, only knew it from stories. It looked inviting, hedgelike, rich green, black green.
“The Wide Great Sea,” sighed Kar in wonder.
“The Wide Great Sea,” I repeated in a hush.
“Are we near Fan Wa’s Bay?” asked Kar with a tremble of hope in her voice.
Acrotwist Clowns dwell on the island surrounding Fan Wa’s Bay in the midst of the Wide Great Sea. Kar yearned so such from Nursery Bower days to be an Acrotwist Clown. Such was so.
“Not near, no, and yet, and yet, you younglings are witted and know that you gaze on the Wide Great Sea,” said one of the small mouths.
“Well then, where is Med of the East? I don’t see Med of the East,” said Kar with a measure of disappointment, and she pushed my hands apart, swung off of the feathered tentacle, and took a seat on a nearby rock, elbows on knees, chin in hands.
“Is Med of the East on this island, or are you just resting before you take us somewhere else?” I managed to ask.
“Is Med of the East here? I could say no. And yet, and yet, I could say yes,” said the wide mouth. “Do you understand?”
All seven of the red eyes looked at me. The tentacles peacefully writhed. The mouths, wide and small, all of ’em, smiled gently. I began to shake my head no, but didn’t. Instead, a dawn of awareness threw up a shaft of light inside my head. A tingle of hairs rushed up my neck.
“You,” I gasped.
Chapter Thirty-One
Kar Dances for Joy
The feathers of the tentacle disappeared beneath me, replaced by a quivering orange jelly. The jelly erupted into tiny green vines of flame. I fell away onto the rim of the crater. The vines spun themselves into a living pillar of growth. Great yellow blossoms popped into bloom in the air all around it. The blooms shivered into writhing fingers of yellow mist, and the pillar exploded into a silver drench of sparkles. They twinkled down and sparked in the yellow mist. The mist took shape, became solid, became: familiar golden sandals twined about emerald green feet; familiar black leggers striped with gold; familiar vest, embroidered gold on black; wispy beard, softly green; kindly ash blue eyes; smiling emerald green lips; curls of softly green hair streaked with gray; one large gol
d hoop earring; unfurled wonderful membraned green wings. In short, Med of the East. Head tilting, hands clasped loosely at her waist, she regarded us.
I found myself voiceless, unable to speak or move. Kar danced. She danced with a jark dweg madness, whirling and jumping and hopping and laughing and shouting. She danced down the slope and danced back up. She waved her pack around her head and threw it down. She performed backflips and rollovers. She tore up a ground hugging plant and held it in her teeth as she danced on the toes and clicked the heels of her highboots.
“I am the first! I am the first!” she began to sing. “I am the first to dance on the edge of a crater with a plant between my teeth!”
She spat out the plant and dove to walk on her hands.
“I am the jrabe now! See, shapeshifter! I’m the jrabe!” she shouted as she hopped around on her hands.
Kar has ever and always been my best friend. Truth, such is so. She has ever and always been a cracked melon, ever and always eager to disturb the normal flow of bendo dreen custom by wearing belts like bonnets, walking backward, hopping like Princess Lovey of the Gwer drollek story, pretending to faint, dangling stockings from her ears, filling her chonka with pudding, and on and other too many to list. I had seen her dance madly before, but never for such a long span of time. I watched Kar, amazed. I watched Med of the East— shapeshifter!—watching Kar, amused. Finally my jark dweg best friend collapsed onto her back and hooted at the sky.
“Gwer drollek! Gwer drollek, Bek! Gwer drollek!” she shouted. She twisted her head around to look at Med of the East and say, “Have you ever seen a bendo dreen dance the like of such?”
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