Isle of Wysteria: The Reluctant Queen (6 page)

Nicole took a step back. Her eyes were wide; her hands were shaking. It was plain to see that her whole world had been shattered. She looked to Admiral Roapes, who calmly sipped his wine, as if he had not a care in the world.

“No island kingdom has authority to separate itself from The League,” Admiral Roapes explained steadily. “The Stone Council has set a deadline. You have seven days to rejoin The League, reopen your ports, and proclaim a public apology, followed by reparations to the total sum of one-half your kingdoms’ gross increase for the next twenty years. If you do not yield to these demands, I am empowered by the Council to make war upon your island, remove you from the throne, and carry them out myself in your stead.”

Nicole recognized the Admiral’s words. He had just quoted the communiqué from Boeth nearly verbatim.

“May I ask what that would accomplish?” The Queen asked dispassionately. The question obviously struck Admiral Roapes as a little odd. It took a moment and a healthy gulp of wine to regain his composure.

“What would it accomplish? My orders would be fulfilled, my duty complete. Surely even Wysterians are familiar with these concepts.”

“Even if you conquer my homeland, remove me from the throne, enslave my people, and force them to meet your demands, what will happen then?” the Queen went on. “Our islands will still continue to be eroded by the wild seas until there is nothing left. Our lands and people will still be doomed.”

“What would you have me do?” He countered, shooing away Rachael when she tried to feed him a cherry. “Would you have me return to my superiors and tell them that I refuse to follow their commands? Betray my oath to the Federal Navy? Cast my honor aside as if it were nothing?”

“At least show them the evidence we have seen today,” Nicole insisted, forgetting all decorum. “Make them know what kind of danger everyone is in.”

“Your oath was to protect people from harm,” the Queen declared icily. “Your loyalty is to defend the innocent. No one can take your honor away when you do what is right.”

“I would be stripped of everything!” he snarled. “My lands seized, my family imprisoned. My reputation destroyed. In the end, they would simply replace me with another and the end result would be the same.”

“You would trade a few years of comfort in your position for the lives of an entire world?” the Queen asked coldly.

Admiral Roapes straightened up to his full height and pulled out his handkerchief. “Do not pretend to make this my fault. The decision comes from the Stone Council. I am merely following orders. Their demands are made known to you. You have seven days from this moment, or we will attack.” The Admiral ceremoniously wiped his hands and dropped the handkerchief before the Queen. With a smart salute, he turned around and stepped back into the longboat. His staff hesitantly joined him.

The Queen bowed formally as the longboat sailed way, her face an expressionless mask. When the longboat was but a speck in the distance, she glanced down to the handkerchief at her feet.

“You wiped your hands,” Hazel said, her voice full of pain. “But they are not clean.”

Odger tossed his boots aside and relished the sensation of the dirt between his toes. All around him he could sense the serenity of the earth, comfortably settled into its place. Stone was a substance of peace and contentment, and just being near it felt healthy and invigorating to him.

He looked up and saw the slowly swaying form of the Dreadnaught as it hovered in place, anchored above this small volcanic island. He had spent so much time in the sky, he had almost forgotten what it was like to be amongst real stones. There were no screams here, no judgments, no guilt. There was only beautiful, cool stones inviting him to settle down next to them and relax.

He closed his eyes and placed his filthy hands in front of him. Slowly at first, but quickly gaining speed, he began to dig. The earth gave way before him, and he burrowed deep in the ground, digging like a mole, almost swimming. He passed through layers of compressed sand, rubble and shale, even hard veins full of metal ore as if they were nothing more than water, the materials accepting his presence and allowing him to pass. In his mind he could see the veins of ore that ran through the mountain, like bright clouds made of gold and silver. Pockets of denser materials shone like stars around him. It appeared very much as though he were swimming through a moonless night sky, the stars and nebulas flowing around him as he swam.

Many of these rocks were still young, at least as rocks go, and eagerly whispered to him the stories of their ejection from the volcano, the thrill of flying through the air, until finally settling in their current position. Odger came up to a pocket of quartz and greeted it in the usual manner. He held out his hand and asked permission. The crystals willing to travel dislodged from their place and formed themselves into a perfect sphere in his hand. Those that wished to remain bid their goodbyes. Odger placed the sphere in his satchel, and began swimming towards the next vein.

* * *

Up on the Dreadnaught, the crew was indulging themselves in their most honored tradition, getting sloshed before a big mission. They all knew that this was going to be the biggest one they had ever undertaken and possibly their last.

The tables in the galley had all been pushed together, forming one long banquet-style arrangement, and Alder had filled it up in grandiose fashion. The tiny golem, Bunni Bubbles happily skipped around the table, picking up empty saucers and plates, and carrying them off to the kitchen to be washed. Alder brought out new dishes to fill the empty places, each one more amazing than the last.

“Oh, this is so good; you've got to try this!” Ryin praised as he slurped down the last of a chocolate mousse.

“I can’t try it if it is all gone, Colenat.” Privet observed, his boots kicked up on the table edge.

“Wow, he even cut the fruit into the shapes of little animals,” Dr. Griffin praised, tossing a flamingo-shaped piece of strawberry in his mouth.

“Mine is a tiger,” Margaret boasted, holding hers up. “Rawr, rawr!”

“Oh wow, the sausage looks like a little fresh-water octopus,” Privet surveyed, rotating it in his fingers. “How do you even do that?”

“I would be happy to teach you how,” Alder offered. “It’s really easy, you just make little slices before you cook it, and the cooking process will cause the little tips to curl up like that.”

“You know, I actually would like you to teach me how to do that,” Privet accepted happily, his hand grabbing a fresh bottle.

There was a derisive snort, and Alder and Privet turned to see Ryin glaring drunkenly at them. “You want him to teach you how to make little octopus sausages? Why not teach him how to knit doilies while you’re at it?”

“Perhaps I will. These are, after all, very important skills for any man to learn,” Alder defended.

“Oy! I just don’t get you Wysterian men!” Ryin conceded. “I never will.”

Alder brought out a tray of blended fruit drinks and placed them before Mina. “If you wouldn’t mind, my Lady,” he requested humbly.

“Yeah, I guess,” Mina resigned. She waved her hand over the tray and all the beverages were instantly chilled with a layer of frost. Everyone except Evere applauded and Alder began distributing the drinks.

Privet leaned back further in his chair, nearly toppling it over, and let out a long howl-like cheer at the reception of his frosty fruit drink.

“I think you may have had enough to drink already tonight, lad.” Captain Evere warned.

“Not at all,” Privet defended. “Haven’t you ever heard the Wysterian proverb,
'Kama’i tsu’i i’ila nou mala’alli’i
...something...something...something?’”

“What’s that mean?” Dr. Griffin asked, chewing on a breadstick.

“It means that life is short, so men should drink with all their might.”

“That isn’t a proverb,” Alder corrected.

“It should be.”

Alder bent down and patted Bunni on the head as she skipped by with an empty plate, then stood before Mina with a covered tray. “As a special treat, I was able to pick up something festive for you at our last port, Mrs. Duvare,” Alder proclaimed happily as he lifted the cover. “I acquired a cabbage for you. I know you Mesdans are quite fond of them.”

Mina’s lavender eyes narrowed. “You know, that is a really offensive stereotype.”

Alder straightened up a little bit. “Oh, it is?”

“Not all Mesdans like cabbage, you know?”

“My apologies, I had no intention to...”

“Just because I’m Mesdan doesn’t mean I’m addicted to cabbage, okay?”

Alder bowed in apology and began to turn away.

“Hey, I didn’t say to take it away,” Mina corrected. She snatched the cabbage off of his tray and began eating it ravenously. “I just don’t like promoting cultural stereotypes.”

Alder furrowed his brow in confusion. He glanced over to Evere for confirmation.

“She can’t keep her paws off the stuff,” Evere confirmed. His parrot, Tim, squalked in agreement from its perch on his shoulder.

“Shut up, Allister,” Mina said sharply, her mouth full of cabbage.

As Mina devoured the cabbage, Captain Evere tipped up the brim of his hat and watched her. “I tell ya’ laddies, watching a woman engorge herself on cabbage, why it just warms the cockles of my heart.”

“I said shut up,” Mina growled.

Spoon in his mouth, Ryin leaned over and whispered to Margaret. “What in the world are cockles?”

Margaret sat up straight as if she had been kicked. “Oh. Well...um...you see...um...” she fidgeted, her face turning red.

“It’s a type of freshwater clam,” Alder explained as he walked by. “You can find them on some of the larger islands.”

“Oh, really?” Margaret said, adjusting her glasses. “Oh, well then, that is a relief.”

“Why? What did you think cockles were?” Ryin asked crookedly.

“Oh, nothing...I mean...um...”

It was then that Athel walked into the galley, looking quite proud of herself as she carried a bundle of navigational charts under one arm.

“There you are, you little booty-snatcher!” Evere stood up, pointing a meaty finger. “How dare you give away our wage chest to that bone-muncher!”

“Not to mention my ship,” Privet added. “I should have been on my way by now.”

“How did you find out it was me?” Athel asked innocently.

Evere reached over with one of his huge hands and picked up Alder by the scuff of his uniform. “I found out from your little servant.”

“Husband”

“Whatever. He tried to cover for you, but I saw right through it. The boy is a terrible liar. He couldn’t act wet in a thunderstorm.”

“I keep telling you, I am an aesthetician, not a thespian,” Alder protested as he swung in Evere’s grip.

Athel sighed. “Put him down please. I didn’t give your money away; try to think of it as a short term-loan. If all goes according to plan, within the month you'll all have more money then you will know what to do with.”

“Even if that were true, and your word is running real thin as of late, what is with you doing all this stuff behind my back without so much as a warning?” Evere dropped Alder from his grip. “What are we going to do for food in the meantime?”

Evere picked up an orange from the table and held it out. “My crew can’t eat food they buy a month from now.”

Athel snatched the orange out of his hand and tossed it out the porthole, down to the rocky ground below. With a snap of her fingers, the orange grew into a mighty tree, heavy with hundreds of fresh, ripe oranges.

“I’m a Treesinger. I think we'll be okay.”

“Ohh, ohh, do the mango next,” Margaret said, knocking over a wine glass and holding out her mango.

“No time for that,” Athel announced as she rolled out the navigational charts before them. Several small, uninhabited islands were circled with bright red chalk.

“Still using children’s chalk, I see,” Privet quipped.

“Quiet, you. Now, I've had Odger mark the locations of the Stonemaster communication arteries. These don’t appear on any official chart.”

“Wow! How did you get that out of him?” Mina asked, her tail swishing curiously.

“Oh, I can be very persuasive,” Athel said, running her fingers through her long hair and tossing it back behind her.

“She gave him a cookie,” came an elderly voice. They all turned to catch Pops, the janitor, pass by, slowly and methodically mopping the corridor.

“Pops! Why do you have to ruin everything like that?” Athel complained. “Presentation is half the drama.”

“I prefer comedies,” Pops admitted as he disappeared from view.

Athel pinched the bridge of her nose and reined in her temper. “Okay, from what Odger told me, these stations are heavily fortified, but lightly staffed. Most of their protection comes from the assumption that no one knows where they are in the first place. The staff are exclusively Stonemasters, which is a problem since we won’t be able to easily blend in. We're all too tall...except maybe for Alder. Even so, they still have to receive rations and water supplies on a regular basis, so I believe that...”

Athel trailed off when she realized that everyone was staring at her oddly. “Is there a problem?” she asked.

The crew of the Dreadnaught looked at each other furtively.

“Well, sweetie,” Mina began. “I guess we all kind of assumed we'd be headed back to Wysteria to help your people. They are being invaded.”

“We are going to help my people, but not in such a boring way. Think about it. One little ship, how much could we really do? But out here, behind the lines and free of the blockade, we can be more effective than a hundred ships. No, we are going to do something far more leafy. We're going to follow the plan from
Dark Carolers
.”

“We're going to sacrifice a virgin to the leviathan?” Alder asked, confused.

“No, not that part.”

“Ohh, I volunteer Ryin,” Margaret spoke up.

“Hey!” Ryin protested.

“No, stop it, we're not going to sacrifice Ryin or any of our other virgins.”

“I forget, who is the other virgin besides you and Ryin?” Dr. Griffin whispered to Margaret.