The Questory of Root Karbunkulus - Quill (18 page)

Oh but then…jackpot! The Green car! The
luscious, luscious green car! Carpeted in flowering vines, fresh
and heavy with dew, the green car was the pith of the ‘berg, most
definitely. At least according to Lian who thought he’d died and
gone to heaven.

Festa had led from the door of this smallest
car into the most incredible paradise Lian could have ever
fathomed. To his right, a sun-loved parade of orchards spangled in
blushed fruits and heavy, oil rich nuts. Beside these, rows and
rows and rows of vegetables with roots plunged in a delicious,
lusty earth sprung forth with sprays and tufts and fronds and
stalks of purple, green, red, white and on and on.

To Lian’s left…holy kamoly! There it was. The
mother lode. The Natruid Nursery. A veritable smorgasbord of
invention!

Lian lifted his head and closed his eyes. His
ears went golden in the sound. Pffft and mmmmmm and squirm and
tick. Nature. Growing. Aaaaaaahhhh…Heaven had just met earth.

And when he opened his eyes he saw that the
delightful buddings and shoots moved as well. Some grew to enormous
size and shrunk into tiny squares. Some throbbed. Some whimpered in
heaps, some blasted out all means of gas and some craned to see him
better. All of nature’s latest, most of which had yet to find
names.

Lian’s heart ached in joy. And yet there was
even more! From here the Sanctorum. Oh, the Sanctorum! Shelved and
piled with all things Lian. He took to its offerings as a toddler
let loose upon the playground. His eyes darted from one novelty to
another and when Festa gave permission for him to touch he looked
like he might pee in excitement.

He trembled as he lifted what looked to be a
giant russet colored ball of rubber. Its skin was lumpy and moist,
like it had a serious case of acne.

“Oculus.” Festa stated. “Allows one the
ability to watch over things while away. It’s made from
Inklapo…”

“Inklapodis, of course.” Lian interrupted as
he recognized the texture. “Which gives it Spy properties.”

“Very good” Festa was impressed. “One of our
greatest ancestors, my grandmother’s grandmother spent most of her
life on this one master creation. Behold...”

Festa scooped the large ball from Lian’s
hands. “Grava!” he said and at once it peeled open into five wide
petals. Fat, like tongues. The petals were dimpled all over with
great white bumps. A smaller dimplier ball rested in the centre.
This ball had a wide hole on top, indicating that it was
hollow.

“We use it often when we are working inside
the cars to keep an eye on what approaches the caravan.” Festa held
up the Oculus. “Surveillance!”

Lian watched the small lumpy globe in the
centre twitch. Its dark hollow changed to sky blue and then a film
of light crossed the opening and he saw the whole of the caravan,
at least fifty cars. People were coming and going and the livestock
hadn’t seemed to move an inch from where last left. The Oculus’
vision floated along surrounding trees and waters, taking in
anything of interest.

“Wow! That is amazing!” Lian said.

“That’s nothing…” Festa’s eyes twinkled.

Soon he was taking Lian on a magical safari
through ages of nature and creation, loading him up with wares,
each one surpassing the other in wonder. By the time they reached
the end, Lian had practically doubled his size and weight in the
collection of goodies. He positively beamed with lottery winning
eyes.

Festa gave him another fatherly pat on the
back. “One more stop.” He said and a few minutes later Lian was
facing the door to the tribe leader’s very own car.

It was of the same frame as all the others,
but by now Lian had come to expect otherwise. He was not
disappointed. From the moment they passed its threshold they were
swept into the extraordinary renown of the tribe leader’s grand
hall. Here they turned left and, passing by two Ekladian guards
entered Festa’s personal chamber. It was an enormous room, exalted
in furs and tapestries, brightly lit by a windowed wall that opened
onto a magnificent vista of ocean and white cliffs. The whole of
the room was furnished in oversized slabs of Blackwood. Even the
fireplace was an ebony, larger-than-life beast. And it smelled of
salt water and earth and sweat all mixed together. It was a man’s
den.

It made Lian feel very
not-quite-manly-enough. Conspicuously unwhiskered and soapy.

“Sit.” Festa said. He gestured to a chair and
sat opposite.

Lian set his goods down and tried to fill the
masculine seat but it was like placing a doll on a giant’s knee.
His feet were left dangling. He felt like a little kid in the hot
seat.

Thankfully Festa didn’t seem to notice.
Either that or he was very good at hiding his amusement. As a
matter of fact he looked rather serious just now as he eyed Lian.
“And now,” he said dryly, “tell me. What treasures have you to do
business with?”

Lian suddenly felt very, very panicked. His
throat went chalky dry while his hands went humiliatingly damp. He
tried to think of what measly things he could offer of the few
things he’d grabbed from the camp, but there was nothing in league
with the Ekladian standard.

At last he hauled in some breath. “Please
forgive me, sir. I see now I was deluded in thinking I had anything
worthy with which to trade. The Ekladian masters have humbled me.
I…I am not deserving of your time.”

Festa’s smile faded. “You have nothing?”

Lian grasped. “Well, back at my camp I have
some…” then he reconsidered, feeling ridiculously incompetent,
certain that Festa would see his work as utter nonsense. Like his
own father had. “Nothing.” He whimpered.

Festa’s eyes narrowed as they fell upon the
pile beside Lian. “You come here and load up on my people’s hard
work and expect to walk away?”

“I’m sorry…I…I thought they were gifts.”

“Gifts! We are generous, yes but you have so
much as to barely see the top of your head!”

“I…I’m sorry…I…”

But now Festa was taking things back and
Lian’s shamed eyes were tearing. Festa said nothing as he snatched
his treasures one by one. In his astounding embarrassment Lian
leaped up and fumbled awkwardly to give back the last item, the
Oculus.

In the next instant, unexpectedly Festa’s
eyes became black with rage.

“What…what is it?” Lian said, stepping slowly
back.

“The Oculus has found a spy.” Festa
seethed.

Lian looked to where Festa’s glare had
fallen, upon the glowing eye of the Oculus. He saw the image that
flickered from its hollow centre and gasped.

Festa grabbed it from him and roared.
“Guards!”

The Sage Mother was practically afloat in her
new pajamas, somehow changed, as if a hundred of her years had been
freed of gravity. Plying the Hemostylus, she’d conjured up a
material so ethereal, Root was sure it had tapped into actual
stardust and moonbeam.

From behind a curtain Fawn was giggling. Then
she too glided weightlessly into view. She looked so radiant, so
godly Root caught her breath.

The dress danced from her like autumn leaves
skimming a crystal blue sea, with mermaids and song in the seams
and lining. She drifted along the floor as light on water, leaving
a salted fragrance in her wake.

The three of them breathed it all in. It had
been a lovely morning. Around them on the floor their tea had
become cold and a small table of food sat barely explored save for
the plate of chocolate. Chocolate pebbled in exotic spices. The
best chocolate Root had ever tasted in her entire life and would
ever taste again, she was sure.

Fawn fell into a cushion beside the old woman
and began a heartfelt plea. The language was too fast for Root to
follow but she grasped that there was deep love between them as
they spoke. At last the Sage Mother nodded and smiled with an
affectionate sigh. The girl leapt up, kissed her cheek and ran for
the door. She turned back and planted Root with two cheek kisses
then ran for the door again, bubbling with excitement. The door
closed with a happy bang.

The Sage Mother sunk happily into the lap of
her cushions. Root sighed contentedly. All awkwardness between them
was gone. What fun they’d had. She began to pick up their cups and
the small plates of chocolate crumbs.

“Fa, Root Karbunkulus. Fa.”

Root looked up to see the Sage Mother
gesturing her closer. She approached and kneeled at her feet,
noticing for the first time the nails buffed in jeweled powders.
The old woman’s hands reached up and found the amber globe that
still hung in crystal around Root’s neck. Her ancient fingers
stroked it and held it firmly as if it were telling her a story.
Then she rose and pulled Root with her.

Though her eyes saw nothing she walked with
ease and confidence to the exact spot she had aimed herself, a
train of paintings that meandered from the wall. Her ringed fingers
went straight for one, pulled it out and held it up for Root.

“Oh my goodness.” Root could hardly muster
words.

Two women and a baby were in the painting.
The first woman was the Sage Mother, her floor length hair braided
back with ruby clips, the sun spilling onto her lined face. She was
giving something to the other woman. Root’s necklace! Then Root’s
breath seized as she looked at the other woman. Long hair, molten
black with a moonbeam of silver streaking through it. The babe in
her arms had a sweet tuft of pumpkin-gold hair.

Root’s eyes prickled. She could find no
sound. Her throat had tangled into a tight knot.

“My…my mother…?” She said at last with
scrapes of loss in her voice. “But…do you know…do you know if she…I
mean…did you see what happened to her?”

The Sage Mother sensed Root for a long time
before she decided to pull out another painting.

The floor fell out from Root. Her heart with
it.

The violence and destruction in the painting
was practically alive. It made Root stand back and cover her mouth.
She saw the charred remains of houses, smoke billowing into a dark
and flaming sky. And the fleeing, desperate faces of men and women
and children. Black ghosts of armor hunted them from the tarred
thrones of beasts and blood poisoned the land at their feet, the
same of which seemed to seep from the canvas as if Death couldn’t
be contained in its space. Once again the great shadows of fear and
grief arrived at Root’s threshold. They came with her heart lynched
in a rope. But this time she didn’t swallow them away. She couldn’t
anymore. Her throat was too small. Truth had shrunk her. She had
known her mother had sacrificed her life for Root. But to see the
way in which she had suffered…

“I…I see…” Root managed.

And then the pain erupted. Fifteen years of
loneliness, an abyss of grief. The veil of armor shed from her
eyes.

Root fell, sobbing into the old woman’s arms.
The Sage Mother held her and said nothing.

When Root woke up she was lying in a bed of
cushions. Her eyes were empty, having drained their last bits into
the pillow. She had dreamed of a faceless murderer. A black hearted
coward. And now awake she knew who he was. Kakos. The Murk Lord.
Slaughterer of the innocent. Root felt a hot sickness in her gut
and in that instant she knew she was part of this world. A child of
DréAmm. Part of its pain, its loss. Part of its plot for revenge.
She looked up into the eternal face of the Sage Mother who nodded
and gestured toward a steaming cup. It was not tea, it was Chorm
and it was welcomed like an old friend.

When Root had half finished her cup, the old
woman, having said nothing the whole time, handed her a gift. It
was a mechanical device, square and purple with gold trimming.

“Brotswin…” the old woman said “..Is for
memories.”

Root looked at the instrument. It was a
camera of some sort. She smiled. Yes, that was exactly what she
needed. To escape the dead-eye of the past. She needed to capture
new memories.

“Thank you.” She was about to throw her arms
around the Sage Mother when a harsh rap came from the door. It was
loud enough to feel threatening and yet the old woman held no fear.
She went to answer while Root held back near the ivory
fireplace.

The Sage Mother was met by Festa. Rage kinked
up his eyes and his cheeks were full-blooded.

“We have been betrayed!” he said and pushed,
of all people, Dwyn Puffler forward, his feet and hands chained.
Two guards flanked him. Root started for him but the bones of the
Brine Demon crossed her path.

Festa launched into an Ekladian tirade,
pacing and gesturing to Dwyn as he disclosed the offense to the
Sage Mother. Root looked at Dwyn for an explanation but he merely
returned a sheepish shrug. It was some time before Root realized
that Lian had arrived with them. She saw him then choking back a
fair share of humiliation. She could only imagine what Dwyn had
done.

“What say you to this, Sage Mother?” Festa
demanded, now returned to the door and crossing his arms. He looked
too big for the frame now. The spill of words had pumped him up
full.

“Mmmmmmmm” the Sage Mother said. Throughout
Festa’s rant she had lit incense and sat upon her cushions in
silence and now the room was sweet with roses.

Dwyn was thrown forward again, this time
landing on the floor, his two guards not missing a beat as the
swords crossed once more. Lian found his way to Root as Festa
propelled his anger again, following the Sage Mother around while
she took to the menial task of making tea.

Though the words were fast and furious Lian
could gather a semblance of understanding, which he interpreted for
Root.

“He caught Dwyn spying.”

“Spying? On what?”

“More like who.” Lian said and in that moment
the door opened and Fawn walked in, mermaid kissed with autumn
leaves and the sea shimmering in her eyes. The warm water of High
Basin dripped from her like honey. She had been hastily wrapped in
a blanket and would not look at Dwyn. Her mother, Wintra came in
behind her.