The Questory of Root Karbunkulus - Quill (38 page)

It landed where it was intended, into the
worn palms of Root Karbunkulus’s trembling hands.

The HaloEm’s Gift.

And then the white stag was up. Up. Up. Up!
Into the sky! The trees lit as she passed. The stars brightened.
The world healed.

She tossed her head. Roared.

Then she was gone.

Overtaking the moon.

Bodies crowded in for a look, a feel, a
touch.

But it was the hand of Studaben Picklepug
that would win that game. He snatched the Quill before Root even
had a chance to smooth her fingers over it.

“That Quill should be disallowed!” Hyvis
Punyun squawked. “There were only five Quills! And I have been
informed that, of the original five, four were found and one
was…erm…destroyed. There was no mention of a sixth Quill and
therefore it should be removed from the Quest! Its very presence
creates an injustice to the teams that have been working
devastatingly hard to find the ones they had been sent after!”

Jorab’s voice soared into the fray. “I
daresay the discovery of a sixth Quill does create an extraordinary
opportunity for re-evaluation. Indeed, it is to the advantage of
all the teams to be allowed the benefits brought on by the
objective forces of fate, is it not?” Jorab chose his words
carefully, the way one does when sharing a private joke. But from
the look on his face, it was no laughing matter.

Hyvis tied her face into a prune. “Guardian,
I insist that the matter be put to the judgement and approval of
the Quest Committee! Guardian? Guardian!”

Studaben Picklepug had become lost in the
perfection of the HaloEm Quill. His eyes were melting into it. His
mouth was watering. “Mmmm? What? Oh! Yes, yes agreed! We shall
appoint a session first thing in the morning, in which the fate of
the Valador team and the sixth HaloEm Quill shall be discussed.” He
closed his hand around the prize and plowed through the crowd.

Root tiptoed through the castle. By now she’d
become so used to this nighttime routine that she could do it
blindfolded. It was hard to believe there was a time when she
walked this very same route fearing for her safety.

The door, as usual was open a crack and from
it there came a soft welcoming glow. The fire was on, the kettle
was fizzing, the cups were out and the great big fat blob of Gruel,
the Toadandahalf was croaking mid-dream in his easy chair.

Home.

“Hey Gruel. Where’s Mordge?”

“She had to step out for a spell….literally,
but made sure someone would be here for your arrival. I hope I
shall suffice.” It wasn’t Gruel. Jorab’s feet stretched out from
Mordge’s overstuffed chair and toasted themselves in front of the
fire. He always looked funny in socks. At least Root thought
so.

“Of course!” Root snuggled in next to Gruel.
He grunted around a bit, found a new position halfway on her lap
and halfway off and went back to sleep. “Will she be long?”

“I don’t suspect so.”

“That’s okay. I’ve been wanting to talk to
you for awhile now, anyway.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah, I mean, well I’ve been thinking a lot
lately about things. Especially since the… HaloEm …since we found
them.”

Jorab nodded.

“I found this in the White Woods, right by
their…bodies.” Root handed him the empty vial of Gut Oil. “I’ve
been meaning to show you but things got so…I mean…I wasn’t
sure…anyway…I found this and I know it came from Vulcherk’s Zero-th
Floor, the Dark Arts Gallery. I know because I found the receipt
and I traced it to a mansion and then I saw Kor at the mansion and
I thought…I mean…he threatened CPR! And then the HaloEm all dead
like that and he’s all of a sudden got a Quill! Don’t you think
that’s past coincidence?”

“I suspect that the one responsible for such
a deed as the slaughter of CPR’s mother and father is of the
darkest nature indeed.”

Root went silent. Her heart twinged. It
hadn’t occurred to her that the HaloEm had been the parents of CPR.
But, of course. How else could she have been born?

“You said that in the entire time you were
with the HaloEm you did not know of her true nature?” Jorab
asked.

“No, I had no idea.”

“Nor did Haverly, who had grown up with
knowledge of the HaloEm?”

“Jorab, there’s no way! She’s the one who
sent us to the White Woods to save them and who gave you the Song
and…no, I remember her telling us that she hadn’t seen the HaloEm
until they were adults. And all her father’s papers were destroyed
so she wouldn’t have known what they looked like as
babies…right?”

“It is not surprising. A young HaloEm is
rarely, if ever seen, which is why I was greatly surprised to see
your CPR. I can only assume she had wandered too far from her
parents and then become trapped in the Swamps where you found her.
At any rate, because they grow in such seclusion and shelter their
appearance is not recognized. Most believe, as you did that they
are born with the beauty and nobility of their adulthood. But it is
possible that someone saw her and …”

“They knew what she was!” Root blurted.

Jorab looked at her expectantly.

“That’s it! Who ever killed the HaloEm knew
she must have been their baby! They strung her up as bait to bring
the HaloEm in. And then the killers ambushed them!” Root felt her
head rush. “Kor saw her! He saw her and must have recognized what
she was! That’s why he said she should be strung up and left to
die! It’s all too perfect, the mansion, the Gut Oil, sneaking off
without his teammates! Jorab, he can’t get away with it!”

Jorab didn’t take his eyes from the fire.
“The use of Gut Oil is an ancient art. It takes the skill and
experience of many years before even one drop can be manipulated. A
terrible stuff. It has a soul of its own and a will that will
destroy even the strongest of constitutions in the split instant of
time. It is the very blood of Shadow and in the whole of DréAmm
history there have only been two to have conquered it.”

“Oh.” Root sunk into her chair. She hadn’t
expected such a dead end. After a beat her curiosity got the best
of her. “Who conquered it?”

“The Sagician Antiquilus and the one they
call the Murk Lord, Kakos.”

Root went quiet. Then she became angry.
“Well, someone had to bottle it and sell it to them. Who could do
that?”

“That, little Root, is what concerns me.”
Jorab said.

“Oh.”

She weighed the gravity of his words.
Immediately the Curator came to mind. And Grotius Vulcherk. Surely
these two would fall under suspicion. And who’s to say Kor hadn’t
learned the ancient tactics of Gut Oil from the Murk Lord himself?
It’s not like he couldn’t have run into Kakos’ operations in the
same way Root had. The only difference being that Kor would
probably be inspired. Yeah, and wanting in on it. He’d probably ask
to be Kakos’ apprentice for crying out loud.

Root thought to share her theory with Jorab
and how she had come across Kakos’ henchmen in the Drowned City,
but she was sure he’d react the same as Dwyn and Lian, citing the
low odds of Kakos’ interest in a kids’ treasure hunt.

Root wasn’t so certain anymore. The
Magisterial Treasure Quests of DréAmm were starting to feel like a
lot more than that.

“You must give him a break.” Jorab said.

Immediately Root’s guard went up. “What?
Who?”

“The little hamster running on that wheel in
your head.” He smiled

Root sighed. He was right. What was wrong
with her? Every muscle in her body was tense. She hadn’t even
realized how much until he laid his hand on her shoulder and she
jumped. She’d become a nervous wreck. Certainly there was excuse
but how much longer could she go on like this? Jumping to
conclusions and accusations and attack. For all she knew Kakos’
underwater losers had seen CPR with her and told him. Maybe it was
then Kakos who stole CPR and used her to bait the HaloEm. Most
likely in an effort to get the Song. And he simply grabbed a Quill
while he was at it. Oh no! The Song! She must hide it! But
where?”

Knock, knock.

Root jumped again. It was Jorab. He was using
Quatra and had knocked upon the door of her mind.

Your Chorm’s getting cold.

Root shook her head. She hadn’t even seen
Jorab put the Chorm beside her and yet there it was, the last of
its steam wisping away. “I’m sorry. I just can’t seem to help it.
There’s so much to worry about and…”

“Worry is a very unproductive use of
faith.”

“But how am I supposed to not…”

“Begin here.” He handed her the mug of Chorm.
“And stay for a little while. It’s a nice place to be, the present.
It comes with its very own fireplace and a breathtaking view. Plus
the parking is free.”

The message was clear. Calm down. Put a
little trust into it. Do a little dance…make a little love…

“Do not forget, little Root, a relaxed mind
is a powerful mind.” Jorab’s eyes were bright. Root could feel him
lifting the weight off her shoulders and knew that Jorab would not
sweep her news under the rug as Picklepug had. He would set himself
upon answers. She could relax now.

They were laughing out loud when Mordge
returned, dressed head to toe in a long robe of purple fur. “The
HaloEm Quill meeting is scheduled for Dawn’s break.” She announced
with rosy cheeks. “All members are required to attend.”

“Shall I bring pastries?” Jorab pointed at
another chair in a corner. It scraped across the floor and squeezed
in between himself and Root.

“But of course.” Mordge sunk into the chair
and gestured over a blanket.

Three pairs of feet toasted themselves at the
fire’s edge. A second round of Chorm went by, this with a heaping
plate of pomegranates.

Root listened to the two. They spoke not once
of struggle ahead, but of all things, recipes. Tarts, strudel,
crisps, loaves. In the end Jorab decided he would bring a warm
fruit cobbler and fresh cream.

They were quite pleased with themselves, the
two. Root could not look at them in that moment and not glimpse
Santa and Mrs. Claus. Skinny rasta beard chef Santa and the missus,
sparkling fairy godmother witch Mordge.

Priceless.

“I tell you,” Mordge went on. “It is the
loveliest I’ve seen it yet outside. A blanket of fresh snow thick
as icing. Everything sparkling white and silver, even the sky and
the lake are silvery steel. It’s just breathtaking.”

Jorab added the memory of his last brilliant
snow.

But Root was looking at another breathtaking
view. The one that came with free parking. And she had to admit, as
she laughed at her friends, it was definitely the better of the
two.

Root Karbunkulus awoke with new resolve. The
Magisterial Quests of DréAmm had returned with resurrected appeal.
She had a winner’s smile, untainted by the past and was ready to
keep her nose out of other people’s nasty business. Jorab seemed to
be quite competently carrying that weight now, which gave her a
sigh of relief.

But even she was surprised when, by
mid-morning her rocket crashed. All the bolstering of the night
before had faded. Once again she was crippled with worry. The
meeting had gone on much longer than was expected. She and Lian and
later, once he got up, Dwyn were sitting anxiously on stiff chairs,
waiting. Twiddling thumbs and waiting. Wouldn’t that just be the
cruelest irony that just as she had determined to reclaim the
Quests they would be pulled out from under her.

Tamik arrived hoping for news but nothing of
the sort had come. She joined them, sitting on the floor until Lian
gave her his seat. He wanted to stand anyhow. And pace.

Dwyn began to busy himself with some sort of
contraption that he’d been working on in his room. Though Root
wanted no part of it, soon enough he had the involvement and eager
advisory of Lian and Tamik. Root cringed; from them came far too
much giggling. How they could find joy in this when at any second
they could be ripped from the greatest race of all time! As soon as
she thought it she heard Jorab’s words,
Relax.
But she
couldn’t even bring herself to trying. She was wound too tight. And
now she felt awful and angry and irritated by her friends.

“ I need some air.” she said and left.

Mordge had been right about the land. It was
a miracle of nature, a crisp, sparkling wonderland. As soon as Root
took in the freshness of its air she felt better. At the stables
she hopped on Stogie and headed for her favorite place in the
world, the cliffs of Deveroh Mountain. Deveroh had been a famous
painter of mountain-scapes, particularly this one. Root could
hardly blame his devotion. It was a place of monumental awe. And
the cliffs were the pinnacle. The vista from them took Root’s
breath away every single time.

This time was no different. She stood on the
new snow, listening to it crunch under her feet. Below her, a
blue-grey river ran along the whole of the white valley. Evergreens
towered over her in layers of untouched snow. Stogie snuffled in
the ground, taking bites of its freshness onto his tongue.

Root breathed deep. Her shoulders relaxed.
This was exactly what she needed.

She lay back in the snow. The sky was a sheet
of blue ice. She closed her eyes for the brightness and when she
opened them again she saw a bird soaring. She watched it, so far
up, skating its wings along the very edge of the world. It looped
and circled and spiraled with a mesmerizing freedom that expanded
Root’s heart, all the while coming closer and closer.

That’s when she saw that it was not a bird at
all.

She leaped to her feet.

CPR landed with a soft trampling of hooves
beside her.

As a mature HaloEm she looked like she’d come
from the snow, a magnificent sculpture of ice and fire. Her antlers
were blanketed in the softest of white velvet and she didn’t seem
to mind Root stroking her fingers over them at all. Nor did she
take offense to Stogie’s sniffing inspection.