The Questory of Root Karbunkulus - Quill (32 page)

“Yeah, that’s exactly what I mean. You served
evil…” then she looked at their foreheads. “All of you did!”

“Well, it depends on what you mean by served.
We were…”

“I can’t believe I touched you!” Hilly looked
like she was going to be sick.

And Root now looked like she was going to
slug her. “Shut up, Hilly!” she yelled.

“Oh, right, coming from the Tint lover…”

Root took a step forward and was stopped.
Surprisingly, by Splinter.

“Well, anyway.” He looked directly into
Hilly’s eyes. “Good luck in the race.”

Hilly glared at him and then at Pooly. “My
mother was right about this place!” She grabbed her friends.
“C’mon.” And was gone.

The two remaining teams were left standing in
the middle of the room. All eyes were on them and the four
youngsters. It was way, way too quiet.

“I’d be happy to sign your book if you’d
like.” Lian’s voice was like rain. A cool, refreshing shower that
doused the scorched words that Hilly had left behind.

Root smiled in that way that made him blush
so easily. She couldn’t help it. He was so….just so….in light of
everything he’s been through…his sister and Tints…she shook her
head in wonder. How did she ever get so lucky to have a friend like
him?

‘Really? That’d be awesome!” Splinter’s eyes
were wide and thankful.

The next thing they knew there was a line up
of autograph seekers, kids and adults alike. Another raising of
flutes and mugs and triple stemmed glasses marked the return of
laughter as the mood shifted once again into the homey offerings of
Poolipity Shrugs’ Drinkhouse. Root turned her happy eyes toward the
cloaked stranger, the now exonerated cloaked stranger. But he was
gone. A pang surprised her. She had wanted to connect. A returned
smile. An unspoken high five.

Dwyn diverted her into another round of
drinks and song. He was a terrible singer but somehow he managed to
get the whole house in on it. Even Lian.

When the cheery camaraderie subsided and the
last few coats were put on for their journeys home, Raisin used her
tail to change the Drinkhouse sign from ‘Open’ to ‘Closed.’

What a night. The Valadors emptied a few
handfuls of coins into the Fund Jar on their way out. Haverly’s
bunk beds were heavy on their minds. They would definitely sleep
well tonight.

“G’night, Pooly!”

“Night, kids! Come again anytime.” Pooly was
neatening things up, getting ready to hit her own bed soon.

The team had the door open and was about to
disappear into the fog-filled streets of Divit when a terror
stricken scream froze them in their tracks.

Pooly Shrugs was trembling. She’d gone
suddenly pale. In her hands was a piece of paper, Root’s receipt
from Vulcherk’s Zero-th floor. “Whose is this?” she whimpered.

“It’s mine.” Root said.

“This?…is…yours?” Pooly looked ill, like she
couldn’t see straight, like she might wobble and fall down.

“No. I mean, not really…I…I stole it.” Root
was about to fess up an explanation but Pooly cut her off.

“Quickly!” Pooly staggered out the back door
of the Drinkhouse using the walls for support. The Valadors ran
after her, stricken with panic.

They arrived at the Hovermutt stalls. It was
horrifying. Vicious. Unspeakable. Who could do such a thing?

Stogie was bleeding where he’d been trying to
bite free of a gag in his mouth. He was choking on his own saliva
and blood. Hana was on her side, panting heavily from the exertion
of trying to escape leather straps that chafed and bound her legs.
Pilsnips too was panting. The skin of his shoulders and feet was
rubbed raw from his own many attempted escapes. The dirt beneath
them was muddied with blood and urine.

CPR was nowhere to be found.

The Valadors cried out and ran to their
Hovermutts.

“Where’s CPR?” Root screamed as she tore at
the gag in Stogie’s mouth.

Ripping at straps and tending wounds, the
team turned to Pooly. The receipt was still in her hand, swarming
her with images. Her eyes were squeezed against some unknown terror
and seemed to be rolling in their sockets. She started trembling
again and cried out. “No!” She opened her eyes, the whites wild and
dominating. “There is a murder! A bloody slaughter of life!” Her
eyes rolled again while the team stood in horror watching. “Oh no,
no …please…NO!!!” She tried to bring herself back and focus. Tears
were spilling now, leaking down her cheeks. “Oh children, I am so
sorry.”

“What!? What is it?” Dwyn demanded. He
couldn’t take the awful dread in her voice, the vagueness of
answers.

“I’ve not seen this…this evil since the
Madness…two of three are dead.”

“Who? Who’s dead?” cried Root, tears now
leading a salty path to her lips. “Where’s CPR?”

Pooly tried desperately to regain her mind,
if for no other reason than to soothe the children. But the images
were so strong, so potent. So black. She was unprepared, having let
her guard slide over the years since the war ended. She used all
her strength now, if not to impart some calm, then at least some
clarity. Her whole body struggled in the balance. “There’s so much
confusion. So much darkness. I can’t…The White Woods! They are in
the White Woods!”

“Let’s go!” Dwyn said.

But the Hovers were in no condition. They lay
in heaps, licking their wounds, whimpering.

“We’ll go ourselves, then!” Lian said.

“Not if I have anything to say about it.” The
words were cold and clammy, still wet in the throat. From out of
the misted shadows Ernward, Curator of the Dark Arts emerged.

Root gasped.

“Yes, I thought you might be surprised to see
me. What, did you think you would get away with such antics?”

“Who’s this, Root?” Dwyn said, his patience
dead.

“The…the Curator.”

“Oh good. We could use the money. I believe
you owe Root a few hundred thousand gilds for her Brotswin!” Dwyn
said, flinging all caution into the fog that surrounded him. He
didn’t care. This same cold fog had already stolen his sense of
humanity.

“We don’t have time for this, Dwyn.” Root
pulled him back. “CPR needs…”

A familiar laugh. A raspy scratching of
fingernails on chalkboard. “I owe you? My, your friends are
amusing. Now, then, I believe you have something of mine.”

“It’s not yours!”

“Ah, but it is. And you have five seconds to
return it. And this time you will not get away.” He cleared his
throat conspicuously.

From out of the surrounding gloom Squawnches
surfaced. Their blue patchy skin looked rotten in the dark. They
gurgled and snickered, anxious for the delicious pickings of fresh
heart. Even a liver would do.

“Three…two...”

“I could hardly believe it when I heard.” A
new voice broke in, silencing everyone with its unexpected arrival.
Even the Curator stopped his countdown, struck dumb by the
surprise. The voice continued. “There was no way it could be true.
I had to take a look for myself and now…now…” All eyes turned to
see Haverly Sintamore emerging from the shadows ghost-like toward
them. The fog rolled and curled away as she walked through it. She
stopped in front of Ernward and looked at him for a long,
penetrating moment. “Yes, I see it…”

“Mother!” he said, his eyes wide with
wonder.

Haverly wiped her swollen, red eyes. Her
sleeve was soaked in tears. She turned to Root. “When I got your
note, I couldn’t believe it. I just could not believe that my son
was still alive and that he...” Her voice cracked. “But then when I
saw the Song…its soft ivory shell, still perfect and gleaming as my
father had found it…right there in the plastic bag you sent with
Corky…” She took a deep breath to regain her composure. “Of course
I had to look for myself. I went to the old stable. It was exactly
how I had left it those many years ago. A pile of charred remains.
A black ghost of my family’s great work. After the blaze I had
naively trusted the fire inspector, Ernward’s friend, and hadn’t
set foot on it again. But today I did. And I saw it.” She turned to
Ernward who was stiff with fear. “I saw your pool. The pool that
you had tunneled all the way to Vulcherk’s…when you…when you stole
the Song.”

“Mother, I…”

“No!….no.” Haverly lifted her hand to her
son’s face, touching the melted strips of skin. “Your
face…gone…gone with the fire you started…You were so handsome…my
boy…”

Pooly’s scream broke the scene. She had
received another vision. It was all Ernward needed. He jumped back,
looked at his mother and with a cold whisper to the Squawnches
said. “Kill her.”

The Squawnches sprang forward.

To their great surprise, however, a squadron
of lurking Divitinian officers immediately sprang from their own
misty hideaways and took up arms against them. In the collision of
sides Haverly’s eyes met her sons. Her heart wrenched. He was
livid. That was all.

The clashing of weapons and crying of voices
bounced around in the fog, one second muffled, the next wounding
the ears in its exit. Amidst the chaos Lian and Dwyn pulled the
Hovermutts to safety. Root and Haverly grabbed Pooly who was still
stuck in some sort of mystical bewilderment, crying out more
terrifying images drawn from the receipt.

“What is it?” Root cried. “Is it CPR? Please,
tell me! Is she okay?”

“Blood on the twilight!”

“Where is she? Where’s CPR! I’ve got to find
her! Please, Pooly!”

Pooly fought with all her might to bring
herself away from the terror. She dropped the piece of paper and
focused intently upon Root. “The White Woods…You must go…Now!”

Root’s eyes went wild with fear. “But, how
can we get there in time?” The Hovers were injured. The fog lay
across them like a blindfold. They couldn’t even see three feet in
front of them let alone find the exact vicinity of the White Woods.
She wanted to bawl her eyes out. There seemed so little hope of
saving her beloved companion.

“Follow me!” Haverly said, her voice
surreally calm amidst all the confusion. “Hurry!”

The Valadors followed, cautiously keeping to
the shadows. Death lurked all around them, silently keeping a tally
of its dominion. A body fell at their feet and Lian had to slap a
hand over Root’s mouth ere she gave them away.

“Hurry, kids!” Haverly snuck them down a
stone canal staircase that was off the Drinkhouse property. In the
water Corky was patiently waiting.

“Hold still, boy!” Haverly unhooked her water
carriage from the great tortoise. “You’re to take the kids to the
White Woods. Use the Snakes, the quickest ones y’hear me?”

Corky roared.

“But the carriage is off!” Lian said. “How’re
we gonna…?”

“Unk tu!” Haverly cried out and touched her
hand upon the deep purple etching of Corky’s shell. At once the
lines began to glow, as if a string of light was winding all round
the curls and corners and swirls that stretched across the whole of
Corky’s shell. When the entire design was lit, there was a murmur
of noise, a deep hum. To the amazement of the team, Corky’s
enormous shell was raising into the air, opening like a great
hinged lid. When it was fully upright they could see a plump,
rubbery, purple interior.

“Get in! Hurry!”

There was no time to argue. Root went first,
then Lian and Dwyn stepped into Corky’s slippery, meaty folds.

“Now go, Corky! Go and don’t look back!”

“Thank you.” Root mouthed to Haverly as
Corky’s enormous shell closed over them. The great tortoise roared
and took to the water with full potent strength. From inside the
team discovered that the pentagonal shapes of his shell were
actually purple tinted windows. Root looked one last time at
Haverly who was wiping her sleeve on her eyes.

Then darkness.

Corky had dived!

There was no need for Horace Gastral’s Finest
Gills here. The Valadors were safe and warm in the purple padding
of Corky’s innards, which wasn’t as gross as it sounded. It was
actually quite comfortable once one got over the fact that they
were indeed inside a giant tortoise.

They could tell his speed by the rush of
water creatures past the windows. It was fast.

But nothing compared to the tunnel. He’d
found it and dove straight in, not even stopping for assessment.
The tunnel welcomed them with a powerful gulp.

Root flew between her friends.

Now they were going fast! Holy kamoly they
were going fast. Nothing could be seen other than a dark blur of
racing water. There was nothing to hang on to either. Out of fear
of pinching Corky they tried to brace with each other instead.

It was a long ride. At least it felt that
way. All Root could think about was Pooly’s haunting words and the
horror in her eyes. She saw CPR’s face then. It was homely and
beautiful and frightened, eyes rimmed white, wild with fear. If any
happens to her…if anything
has
happened… Root thought she
was going to be sick. She wanted to scream and bawl and pound her
fists on something…anything. But that meant defeat. That meant CPR
was dead. And she refused to go there.

She gripped her friends’ arms tighter.

No one let go until the force of the landing
made them.

Corky flew airborne then came down with an
enormous splash. He roared. A burst of cool air hit them as his
shell started to rise.

The landing pool seemed to be sitting in the
very heart of the White Woods, though it was hard to tell for the
darkness. All around them a strong, bold forest of pure white
sprung up. Root inhaled. The air here was so fresh and cool, she
felt her headache instantly deaden.

The relief would not last. For as they
pondered their next steps it became very clear that the White Woods
were immense indeed with nary a hint of possible direction.