The Questory of Root Karbunkulus - Quill (40 page)

Root yanked her hand down. Picklepug simply
heehaw-ed his donkey lips and posed for more. Root could barely
keep her eyes open for the strobing of light. Even Dwyn was
uncomfortable in the attention.

Though not nearly as uncomfortable as the
Punyuns, who were watching it all with shiny daggers in their
eyes.

Once again Jorab brought about calm as he
cued Elgart’s army of apron-ed vegetation to kindly escort the
media off the property. Hoskins, the staircase was assigned to any
resistant parties and made well of its authority, especially with a
particularly aggressive reporter who wanted an exclusive interview
with Root. Hoskins conveyed him along, well past the castle
courtyard; dropping him off at the edge of Mirror Lake.

“And now! Let the festivities begin!” whooped
Studaben Picklepug. “Let’s give a warm DréAmm welcome to the
incredible Miss Wiggs!”

“Miss Wiggs!” Tamik shouted and leapt up. She
was the first to reach the stage, where a young woman stepped out
from an explosion of red smoke. Her bright red hair was piled up so
high it looked like an Olympic torch, even seemed to snap and
crackle like one.

“Watch this!” Tamik yelled over the music to
Root as she arrived. “She can Duplicate…wait for it…wait for
it…Now!”

Root watched as Miss Wiggs suddenly added two
more of herself on the stage making her a green, blue and red trio
in three-part harmony.

The garden court of the House of Gub filled
with screaming fans, colored Fire Blossoms and a misted dance
floor, spilling with feet. Root let Tamik pull her out with the
others and soon found herself laughing breathlessly in the thump of
the music. Dwyn tried to show off his Ekladian moves but Root and
Tamik put a swift end to that by way of a Golden Wedgie. After
that, they dodged him in the crowd and headed for the punch.

Miss Wiggs doubled the duplication. Now six
of her, red, green, blue, yellow, orange and pink were belting out
over the band. The fans edging the stage screamed even louder.
Tamik sang along with a Eucalyptus plant that was tending the
service bar. It slipped both her and Root double Chuck’s on
ice.

They found Lian, who was sitting awkwardly in
a chair.

“You dance, Blick?” Tamik asked.

“Not on your life.” He said sucking on a
straw.

“Fine. Suit yourself.” She ran into the mob
with a sustained scream that gave Miss Wiggs a run for her money.
Dwyn found her and together they somehow managed to link up the
entire dance floor and lead it around the room like a train.

“I was thinking.” Lian said.

“What? You think?” Root teased.

“Remember when we first set out and
Skubblenob’s Tempometre led us to that stupid vine covered
wall?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, it just dawned on me that that wall
was swarming with aphids.”

“Uh huh…”

“And, if you remember what Milwart Ibbbs had
said…” he looked expectantly at Root. “What eats aphids?”

She stared blankly back at him. “Uh…Aphid
eaters?”

“No! HaloEm! HaloEm eat aphids! And they also
prefer to sleep in caves. Which is the second place the Tempometre
took us.”

“Oh my goodness! It
did
work!”

“I think it had picked up CPR’s…”

“Skyy’s.”

“What?”

“That’s her name now. Skyy. With two
y’s.”

“Oh. Well, I think that crazy contraption of
his had picked up her trail and taken us all the way…”

“To the Swamps! Where she had been
caught!”

“Yup.”

“And that’s why it stayed hot! She was with
us then!”

“Yup.”

“Then no wonder Festa wanted it. It really
did work. I thought he just thought it showed promise is all.”

“Yeah, me too. I guess we owe Skubblenob an
apology.”

“C’mon, losers!” Dwyn grabbed Root.

Tamik grabbed Lian who tried to squirm away.
“Don’t fight it, Blick or you’ll make it worse for yourself. I’ve
got a One Eyed Sour-Ribb and I’m not afraid to use it!” Lian looked
at her. And to the amazement of all, laughed. He relinquished
himself into the doesn’t-take-no-for-an-answer clutches of his
friend and, though his dance moves were on the rusty side, if not
the altogether non-existent side, he kept up a shy smile.

And it did not fade for the rest of the
night.

The birds of dawn were beginning to wake and
busy themselves in the garden court as the last of the partiers sat
in quiet huddles around fire bombs. Miss Wiggs, all twelve of her
had long since gone, but not without a vow to return.

Root and Tamik were singing in rounds. They
assumed Lian and Dwyn had gone to bed because they hadn’t seen them
in ages. But as Dwyn approached with a most mischievous smile, it
was clear he hadn’t even gone near a pillow. He put a finger to his
lips and eagerly gestured them to follow him.

It was too hard to resist.

The girls followed past the stained glass
double doors, into the lobby where they spied Lian sitting
nervously on the lower stairs.

“Hey, Lian!” Dwyn said a bit too
enthusiastically. “What’s wrong? You look a bit agitated, my
friend.”

“I am.” Lian said.

“Why?”

“Well, I heard something. And it sounded like
a…”

Just then a terrible shriek pierced the
air.

Root screamed. “What’s that?”

“It’s just as I thought!” yelled Lian. “It’s
a Wogbort!”

“A Wogbort!” cried Dwyn. “Are you sure?”

“They’re attracted to music, which they must
have heard in the Courtyard!”

The Wogbort shrieked again.

“Quick! Run!” yelled Lian. “They can
instantly turn you to ashes with one touch! We’ll have to climb the
curtains. They hate curtains and are repelled by them!”

Without even questioning, everyone ran for
the long, heavy drapes that hung from a tall window. Dwyn and Lian
suddenly pulled Root and Tamik back before they arrived.

Something had moved in the drapes.

Then something else fell from the top of the
drapes. And landed with an explosive splash!

And then something stunk really, really
bad.

Lian and Dwyn went hysterical and as Root
turned to them she saw that it was hysterical laughter.

“Gotcha, y’cowardly eavesdropping loser!”
Dwyn pointed at the curtains.

The girls looked to where he had pointed. The
explosive splash had landed on something that they hadn’t noticed
before.

And the reason that they hadn’t noticed is
because it had been invisible. Or rather
he
had been
invisible.

Not so now. Now the figure of Kor Bludgitt
was clearly outlined in the guts of the Widow Squash Bomb that Lian
and Dwyn had planted.

“I can’t believe you fell for it, Bludgitt!”
Dwyn was howling in laughter.

“Quick! Run for the curtains. They hate
curtains!” Lian mimicked, wiping tears of glee from his eyes.

The girls got it now.

“But the Wogbort.” Root said.

Lian went behind a large vase and pulled out
a familiar disc.
Know Your Forest Beasts
. “Recording number
twelve.” He said with a huge smile.

They all turned to Kor. He was now fully
visible, soaked in Widow Squash and stinking to the heavens. So
bad, in fact, that when he went to yell at them, he ended up
gagging instead.

The four friends left him that way, taking
their glee down the hall and up the stairs and well into the weeks
that followed. Content that there would be no more anonymous
bombing in the House of Gub.

Deveroh Mountain was lovely in Spring.

Tender buds were spilling into life. Shoots
of green pushed up through their slushy blankets. Birds sang. The
river down in the valley rushed swollen and alive.

Root used her spade to flatten the mound of
dirt she’d made. In its centre was the flower she’d grown from seed
in her room. It was called a Chrysanthemum. A mum. It had blossomed
into a gorgeous shade of pink and now Root stood over it uttering a
last farewell.

She had no clear memory of her mother and
father but she knew they had loved her. And she knew she had loved
them. Still loved them.

She bent down and patted the mound once more
with her hands. Deep within it the Song hummed peacefully in a nest
of down. The only other living thing that knew of its hiding place
was Skyy. Indeed, it was Skyy who had picked the site. Here in the
most beautiful place in all of DréAmm.

Root stood again and walked to her favorite
spot, on the edge of the cliffs where the valley plunged below and
the sky soared above.

She reached into her pocket.

The wind seemed to pick up as if cued by a
watching god.

Root held out her hand.

The watching god blew another gentle breath
of wind.

And the tiny white shoots of the Glawering
seed flew like umbrellas from Root’s palm.

She watched them spiral and drift and
suddenly soar out from the cliffs into the waiting arms of
Nature.

There she watched them dance about.
Browsing…browsing…

Far below them, perfect patches of fertile
soil waited.

Root stood with her eyes closed, breathing
with the wind.

At length she turned to leave. Stogie was
waiting. She was just about to mount when she heard a most
beautiful sound.

A deep rumbling of earth and air and water.
It shook all the way through Root’s skin and deep into her
veins.

The seeds had landed.

The Glawering were pleased.

Root turned singing…

Be not ye careworn

Be glad ye were born

Be not ye careworn

Be glad ye were born

Be not ye careworn

Be glad ye were born…

ZigZag had a bald head and huge ears. The
whole rest of him was tight and sinewy, as if the hide of a gater
had been stretched over his long bones. He had a gash in his cheek
that had left a thick scar, several inches long. A scar that he
admired very much, a shiny white stitch from temple to chin.

When he was a boy and the Water Beast had
come for him, he thought the creature would skid on land, lumber to
a slow halt and stall. He did not know the Water Beast was just as
adept on land. He did not know it could run faster than most,
faster than a cocky, ill-mannered boy at any rate. No, he knew
nothing of these things and it was only a matter of minutes before
the beast’s teeth had snapped his heels, tripped him and scurried
to catch him when he landed. This he did, head first, right into
the enormous jaws. He’ll never forget the crack, the sound of his
cheekbone breaking, the taste of blood on his tongue.

His pa had saved him, barely escaping the
beast himself, as it slid and clawed and eventually backed away
from his weapon, back into its murky, watery depths. Zigzag’s pa
took him home then, but not without a good tongue-lashing. “Why in
blazes were y’out there on yer own? What kind of fool!”

The boy couldn’t answer. Something had called
him. A dare, perhaps. A dare from the Bayou itself. “Come find me!
Come play!” it called. And so ZigZag’s young self left the city and
let his bare feet follow the echoes. Deep and deeper he went into
the twisted wet knots of this place until he found it. The throat.
Large and looming and wide as his greed. Here the Bayou went silent
and all he could see was a trail of lights, tiny golden orbs of
light, shimmering despite the brightness of day. The lights
disappeared behind the throat’s rocky teeth.

ZigZag did not hesitate, but followed them,
even as the mouth of the cave clamped down behind him, blocking
sunlight and leaving him temporarily blind. A moment later hundreds
of steps emerged, blue and glowing in the darkness. He took them
two, sometimes three at a time, all the way to the large green door
that curved into a point at the top. He knew instinctively he was
not welcome. He went in anyhow.

His eyes widened. He saw everything at once.
Gold and power and Time and secrets. He wanted it all. But as his
foot stepped forward the walls began to tremble. Indeed, he was not
welcome here at all.

Within seconds he was dodging debris as the
entire cave seemed to be collapsing. He ran out of the room and
found the stairs breaking off, one by one and falling into a black
abyss. He leapt, taking whatever existing steps he could find and
managed to scramble up to the mouth of the cave before it folded
with the sinkhole deep into the hollow earth, taking trees and rock
and mud with it. He pulled and crawled over the earth that swept
toward him, managing a final desperate climb up the only tree that
had clenched its roots far enough to remain.

At last the sinkhole settled, leaving the boy
dangling over its swampy new crater. He slowly, ever so slowly
slunk down the trunk and put himself onto solid ground. He would
have considered this escape a good omen indeed.

But instead he found her.

And worse, the Water Beast, now homeless and
childless had found him first.

“Why didn’t y’climb like y’been told!” The
boy’s Pa rumbled along with the old truck’s engine. “When faced
with a Water Beast on land, y’always climb!” To this the boy
shrugged. He hadn’t remembered. But now, head to toe in green mud,
his face half open and pouring life, he would never forget.

To this day ZigZag keeps the memory. Along
with another memory, a memory of a day, years later…one day when he
exacted revenge on the Water Beast, showed it who was boss. Like
he’d done to everyone else in his miserable life. Years of cold,
unrelenting revenge had seen to it.

ZigZag had escaped the loud, grimy city,
dipped his pirogue into the mud-filled waters of the Bayou Vagura
and punted his long pole from the shore. This, this was his place
in the world now, the world that he so despised.