The Questory of Root Karbunkulus - Quill (16 page)

Lian was utterly aghast of the idea but had
no choice. It needed to re-refrigerate before he could place
anything back in. He grabbed what he could from the slew of objects
strewn about and hastily tucked the rest beneath blankets.

As they ran after Dwyn, Lian gave Root a
breathless lesson in Ekladian 101. “They are renowned. They create
and collect some of the finest wares in the land. An Ekladian’s
stamp is a valuable commodity. Because, though they are open
market, it is rare that one can offer something of equal value to
them. Even Grotius Vulcherk has a hard time getting Ekladian goods.
And don’t offend them in any way. They are proud and demanding of
proper respect. They claim to come from a powerful line of gifted
Seers but it is extremely rare that you would get the opportunity
to meet one. Generally, they are peaceful and simple nomads, living
with the land and quick to find reason to celebrate, which is what
we are about to…”

He stopped at the sight of Dwyn crouched low
and spying, his eyes entranced. As they approached they too could
see the wonder of color and music and dance that mesmerized him. A
mammoth fire blazed in the middle. At its head a band of musicians
flavored the air thick with song. And all along the fireside came
the skipping of bare feet and clapping of happy hands.

The three friends drew in, content to take it
all in from the secluded leaves of their hideout. The music flew
faster and the feet followed devotedly. Some of the elderly pulled
themselves away allowing the youth to break into the best of
themselves. Here Root and Dwyn and Lian delighted in the colorful,
vibrant skirts that pinwheeled into the air. And the bright open
shirts of young men rising and falling in stag-like leaps.

Faster music. Faster hands. Faster feet.

The team was so mesmerized they didn’t even
notice the old man who’d seen them and toddled over. His face
simply popped up before them with a toothless grin. The next thing
they knew he was pulling them into the dancing ring, not taking any
of their panicked ‘no’s’ for an answer. It was here Root realized
that they were all still in their pajamas. They must’ve looked like
they’d come from another planet. Aliens crashing the party. She
expected the festivities to come to a screeching halt right then
and there. But the music didn’t so much as skip a beat. Nor did the
dancing. No one even yelled at them for trespassing. Or showing up
in sleepwear.

Instead the night upheld its passionate pace
drawing the three of them as kindred flesh and blood into its
marrow. Partners were given each and though the Valadors were
nothing of the coordination of these skillful dancers, they were
smiled upon, patted on the back and carried away into the
breathless, fevered flight of dance.

Dwyn could not believe his good fortune. The
same girl he’d not been able to take his eyes from was now placed
in front of him. She smiled a smile that knocked the wind out of
him but he stood straight and accepted her hand.

Root, on the other hand had been snatched up
by a bulldozer of an Ekladian boy who literally did knock the wind
out of her with the force of his embrace. Lian was suddenly dry
mouthed and sick with nerves at the pretty maiden who fell into his
arms.

They danced as best as non-dancing newbie
strangers could, hoping to dignify the leading cues of their
partners. Or at the very least, not fall down. But as the music
licked into even greater urgency, the Valadors graciously (and most
relievedly) bowed out to allow the unhindered feet of true
mastery.

Well, two did. Dwyn, in full swaggering form,
decided to go another round.

The girl at his side looked at him with
interest. And pity. For there was no way this boy would be able to
keep up with her. Of course her expression did nothing to shift
him. If anything it made his eyes bluer. Peacock blue, one would
say. He launched a loaded grin and held out his hand.

Well, she thought, such arrogance deserves a
fall now and again.

The girl accepted and led Dwyn centre, fully
aware of the eyes that envied her, those whom Dwyn had already
managed to impress. The music stoked. The girl moved in it with the
spirit of a wild thing, one just woken from hibernation. Indeed, it
had been months in the sleepy ashes of the Sage Mother’s caravan.
Tonight she was Fawn, Dancer of the Earth.

And as if he’d been Ekladian born himself
Dwyn fulfilled each move and breath with the same untamed spirit.
Fawn felt heightened by the mere tracing of his finger along her
back. Her chest fluttered for air, hot and dusty as it was. They
danced, she and he as coiling, feathering smoke. One by one the
other couples fell in their wake. In the suspension of space and
time, Dwyn rose with such sinew that the girl was shocked to find
the hair of her skin raised in his touch.

She was also annoyed. For he was looking at
her now like he had her.

As if.

She turned from the intensity of his eyes
into the finale where all the young women soared airborne and fell
triumphantly back into the arms of the earth. The feet of their
partners replied with ferocity, weaving from flesh to embers to
flesh again.

And still the music played, leading the
breathless youth into a unified building, building, building. Drums
thundered the heart. Skin heated up …eyes fired…ta da rum…ta da
rum…building building building…

“EIY!”

Silence, save for an echo that tore into the
sky and bounced among its infinite stars.

Then a great, hearty roar of laughter.

And a return to the world.

Fawn and Dwyn bowed deeply and parted…with
heat still in them. Unsettled. Displaced. Longing for release.

As the wild and the tame mingled once more,
the sounds of the night found a gradual pitch of conversation. Root
and Dwyn followed Lian’s lead toward a vortex of activity where men
and women of the tribe were courting an elderly couple with bows
and curtsies and nods and handclasps. Trays with goblets of foaming
drink floated about in offering. The elderly man grabbed two
goblets, one for the woman at his side; the other he held up.
“Alastiss!”

His people replied in happy echo and drained
their goblets. The man sent the trays back for more.

“That’ll be the leader.” Lian said.
“C’mon.”

Root and Dwyn followed him all the way up to
the riser where the man and woman sat in wooden thrones with a
circlet of candles above them, midair.

The woman smiled when she saw them and
winked. Her seasoned beauty instantly took them. “Please come
forward,” she said.

The Valadors entered into the light where she
could see them better. “You dance well, young man.” She said to
Dwyn with approval. Her eyes were dark and kind. A thick braid of
raven hair trailed well past her shoulders. Inlaid were hundreds of
emeralds, their faces sparkling in the flicker of candles. Her
dress was of the same jeweled green. Root remembered it pinwheeling
past her during the dance.

“Thank you…uh…your highness?” Dwyn said
nervously.

The woman laughed. “Please call me Wintra.
Wintra of Sunhaven, in your service. And this is Festa, the
Bright.”

“Welcome, friends! What deserves us such
grace?” Festa was a lean, dark man with glistening skin and muscle
from the dance. He wore an open silk shirt of royal blue that, even
in this dim light, pulled from the same jewel blue of his eyes.

Root and Dwyn’s awkward shuffle indicated
that it would be best for Lian to speak on their behalf. Little did
they know his speech would sound like he’d sliced his tongue. In
fact it was a long, mortifying minute before it occurred to them
that their friend was actually speaking Ekladian. Ekladian! The
words spilled from him like a freaking fountain… not that they
should be surprised but they were… and then,
then
he
interpreted for their benefit.

“We were led to you by the passion of your
music but were preceded by your reputation.”

Root and Dwyn blinked. Nice.

“And what reputation is that?” Wintra asked
amusedly.

Again the language fell with ease from Lian’s
tongue. “Why, the legendary Ekladian bar upon which all true
artistry and mastery are measured. It is no secret the beauty and
innovation of your wares.”

Festa nodded. He was pleased. “And do you
come of curiosity or business?”

“Both, sir. If you will humor us.”

The man laughed and gestured the musicians.
“At sun up I shall humor you, clever boy. In the meantime, you and
your friends are welcome guests of my people.”

And with that the table beside them was
loaded up for serious culinary action: plates of fresh herbed meats
steaming and sizzling, bowls of morning picked vegetables chopped
into mountains of color and capped with maple juice, breads still
warm enough to melt cheese, platters of blushed fruit and mugs of
bubbling Willow Wine. Guests, indeed! They were freakin’
royalty!

In the blink of a festival soaked eye morning
boosted the sun over the horizon. The Valadors were drenched in
Party and happier than they’d been in weeks.

And now Festa was going to take them on a
tour through the legendary Ekladian caravan. Root’s curiosity had
grown over the night as stories of its unsurpassed treasures fell
upon her ears. She and Lian hurriedly met Festa at the end car,
where dew was still glistening on its round windows. Dwyn was
missing in action. But the way he’d been strutting around those
girls, his teammates could safely assume he had absolutely no
inclination to be found. And indeed Lian had no inclination to look
for him. Lian was practically drooling and would hardly allow the
recklessness of Dwyn’s ego to tear him away from an opportunity
like this.

A short distance away from the end car, in a
quiet settlement of morning sun, Hovermutts, livestock and other
Ekladian domestics grazed. Festa gave Dwyn exactly one minute
before shrugging him off with a fatherly grin. “That boy’s got a
rascal on his heels.” He shook his head and directed the other two
to the door. It was an arched frame with no handles. Festa leaned
forward and whispered into the grains of its wood. A moment later
the door opened like a drawbridge and two silent doormen greeted
them. With very large swords.

“You see those blades?” Festa asked. Root and
Lian nodded; couldn’t really miss them, unnaturally blue and sharp
as they were. “They are made from the bones of a Brine Demon.
Plenilune himself, Lord of Eventide slayed the demon in his
ninetieth year. He then buried the bones for five and two years in
the very soil of the sacred land of which he was ruler. On the last
day of the seventh year, Plenilune dug the bones up, now merged in
the purity of moonlight and gifted them to his son, Validyn.”

“Validyn. I know that name. Isn’t that the
guy that was once King of DréAmm?” Root asked.

“Aye. Good.” Festa nodded.

Lian gave Root a surprised look that
immediately made her head swell. See, not every little bit of
trivia went past her.

“Validyn in turn gifted the Brine Demon’s
bones to my father,” continued Festa, “the great swordsmith,
Guandav. And this is what became of them. As venomous and
undefeated today as then.” The tribe leader straightened then and
cleared his throat. “Festa the Bright!” He said in a clear,
authoritative voice.

Immediately the blades uncrossed, catching
the sun in their motion and sending a threatening blue flare to the
eyes, as if the spirit of the Brine Demon still lay in the reforged
bones, awaiting a chance for revenge.

“Please, after you.” Festa said and gestured
toward the opening. Lian walked forward, cast a fleeting glance at
the swords and entered. Festa held out his hand for Root. She
gulped and stepped forward.
Please, let the Brine Demon like
me.
She was not one foot in when a voice called “Hold!”

A young girl strode toward them. Immediately
Root recognized her; Dwyn’s dancing partner of last night. She was
even more beautiful than the flattering spill of firelight had made
her and Root felt a pang of self-consciousness. She tried to brush
back her messy, tangled excuse for hair. Still in her pajamas she
couldn’t help but notice the fresh bright colors that fluttered
like feathers in the girl’s skirt.

“Fawn!” Festa cried and captured the girl in
a strong embrace. “You danced last night as I’ve never seen.” The
girl blushed. “Perhaps the Sage Mother was right in giving you a
break from your studies.” He turned to Root “This is Fawn, my
daughter.”

“Hi” Root said.

The girl smiled. “You have the most beautiful
hair I have ever seen, Root.” And she meant it.

The grass is always greener. This time Root
blushed.

“And what brings you here, daughter?”

“The Sage Mother sends for our friend, Root
Karbunkulus.”

Festa’s eyes widened. But he knew better than
to snoop. “This is an honour indeed. The Sage Mother is a rare
host. You are a most fortunate girl.”

“I am?”

“She has obviously seen something in you that
has impressed her. Do you accept?”

“Uh...”

The girl helped her out. “The Sage Mother is
a Seer. She comes from Proslin, where the land has birthed the
greatest Seers of all time. But she is kind. You needn’t be
afraid.”

“Oh. Uh…okay.”

Lian stuck his head out from the door. It was
unnerving to see it so close to the flashing blue blades.

“My daughter sends message that the Sage
Mother wishes to see your friend.”

“Really? Cool!” Lian smiled.

Root looked at Lian awkwardly. She wasn’t
comfortable with the idea of leaving him and hoped he would read
her expression but…

“’Kay, we’ll meet up later!” …is what came
from his oblivious lips.