Isle of Wysteria: The Monolith Crumbles (31 page)

“Or ones,” Oleander added. “I have seen the Queen’s memories myself. In her contact with void magic in the past, the spells always dissipated when the caster passed away. If we execute the perpetrator, the spikes should revert to being ordinary iron and end the blight.”

Nikki shrugged. “But we don’t know which of those men are responsible.”

“We are running out of time. If we simply execute them all, it will be faster.”

Nikki’s eyes widened. “You would execute hundreds of innocent men?”

“If it meant saving my forest, I would execute a thousand. Milia gives us trials of our faith to test our resolve.”

Nikki tried to hide her disgust. “Or this could be a test of your mercy.”

“Mercy is for people, not objects. Look, your presence is tolerated by order of the Queen, but even that clemency does not grant you the authority to question the laws and traditions of our people.”

Oleander stepped in close to Nikki, her voice a soft growl. “Or, should I bring up what your own kind did to the gypsies living on your lands? Did you show them mercy when you drove them into the sea like cattle?”

Nikki’s eyes lowered sadly. “That is a shameful chapter in my people’s history. Forgive me if I offend, I only want to prevent you from making a mistake you will regret, as we did.”

“If you want my forgiveness, then help me restore the forest, and keep your filthy foreign opinions unspoken.”

Nikki’s anger flared up. “Fine, you want my opinion? I think it would be a mistake to execute all the prisoners.”

“And why is that?”

“Yes, it would be faster than identifying the villain, but it could also make things worse. Much worse.”

“I suppose you have experience with void magic?”

“No, but consider this: The guilty man or men might not be the caster. The Queen herself said some of the spells being used to slip around unnoticed were reminiscent of the Sotol Guild, whose spells we know for a fact your men can’t use. If the man was merely acting on the orders of another, if he only planted the spikes but did not invoke the enchantment itself, then killing him would not end the blight. What it would do is erase our only lead to finding the true perpetrator.”

Oleander and Lotebush grew silent, their distaste for her overpowered by the reason of what she was saying.

“So, our only option is to keep doing what we are already doing?” Oleander surmised. “I cannot accept that. Milia abhors slothful servants.”

“But what else can be done?”

Oleander scooted Lotebush aside so they could speak privately. Although they didn’t invite Nikki, she followed anyway. “Caladium, when a sapling is too ill to produce its own leaf, do you simply let it die?”

“Of course not, we graft on stronger branches, so that the roots won’t be lost…wait, you can’t mean…?”

Oleander nodded grimly. “If we graft in a second Queen, she could share the pain, twice the shoulders make half the load.”

“But, doesn’t it take decades to prepare someone to be the Queen?” Nikki asked.

“Yes, but it just so happens, there is a second individual on this island who has been prepared to do just that. Athel’s sister Solanum.”

Sister Lotebush stepped back in fear. “No, I will not allow it. She is mad, irredeemably mad. She nearly destroyed us. Her brief reign is a shameful mark that will dishonor her house for a thousand years. Grafting their Ma’iltri’ia together could…”

“No, her condition makes her the perfect candidate to help Athel. She has spent a lifetime being overwhelmed by the sensations that come through the link. She can handle it better than anyone else ever could.”

Nikki tried to push past the trepidation she felt and think clearly. “But, if you declare them co-rulers, won’t that create a disaster for leadership and succession?”

“We already have a disaster. Athel abdicated the throne years ago, yet she returned and became the Queen anyway. Currently, we have a bifurcation of Wysteria’s political throne, which is held by Solanum in absentia, and the position of Ruler of the Forest, which Athel holds. In a weird way, this would fuse those two authorities back together again.”

Nikki’s eyes went wide. “You mean, Athel didn’t technically have the authority to sign the Alliance treaties?”

“She cleverly side-stepped that issue by forging the Alliance treaty under herself as an individual, not as a ruler of an island. But it’s only a matter of time before some nosy scribe realizes this amid the paperwork and voices an objection.”

Oleander raised an eyebrow. “Why? Do you want me to tell them about that myself?”

Nikki was horrified. “No, of course not! On the eve of the invasion, the last thing we need is a scandal; it could ruin everything we have built.”

“Then from now on, I expect you to keep my office appraised of all your war preparations. I tire of being informed about everything after the fact.”

“Are you…blackmailing me?”

“I didn’t invite you into this conversation. You said you wanted to be a part of it. Well, now you are.”

Nikki stepped back, astonished.

Sister Lotebush was more pragmatic. “I could care less about the treaty or what the foreigners think about it. What bothers me is that you are asking a mentally unstable young woman to put herself in a life-threatening amount of pain.”

“I know, my child, but desperate times call for desperate measures. Milia, in her infinite wisdom, has prepared the perfect tool for this crisis, and is now testing us to see if we have the faith to use it.”

Nikki and Caladium looked at each other worriedly.

The High Priestess straightened her robes. “Do not worry about Solanum. I will speak to her myself.”

“I don’t like this plan,” Nikki said.

“Neither do I,” Caladium added.

Oleander looked at them firmly. “It’s either this, or Athel dies.”

The turquoise canals of Ronesia were full of longboats, laden with fruits and baubles, cheetah-spotted merchants rowing up alongside each other in the bright colors they wore, trading wares and peddling in their scratchy, feline language. The boats they maneuvered were thin, so thin you’d think they’d topple over into the clean waters, but none of them ever did. They expertly slid amidst one another, the boats so tightly packed in places one could walk down the entire length of the canal without ever getting wet. It was a bustle of merry voices and bright lanterns, of laughter and song. Highways of great, triple-tiered aqueducts brought the water here from the distant Doi Utheppa Mountains to the east. They carried the water for a hundred miles. It was so precisely engineered that they kept the flow of water constant all year round to feed the canals.

It was at the end of one of these aqueducts that Privet and Setsuna oversaw the installation of the gate they had brought. Like a great golden ring, twice as tall as a man, engraved with a complex series of channels like glowing veins, lime and cyan energies raced and wrestled within. It reminded Privet so much of the magical wedding band she had tried to force on him that he wondered if she had done it intentionally.

“Careful attaching the t’kuuta there,” Setsuna warned as the spotted workers worked the pulleys to lower the ring into its cradle.

“What the trakk is a t’kuuta?” one of them called back.

She twisted one of her green pigtails with her finger. “What do you mean, what’s the…? Oh right, it’s the inner band there. It has to be completely unblemished for the gate to open. If you get any fingerprints on it, I’d have to repolish the whole thing and triple my fee.”

“Well, that would be a huge inconvenience,” Privet quipped.

“Do they even have fingerprints?” Dwale wondered, looking at the Ronesian’s padded paws.

Dwale tried not to look at the riot of color and song around them. He hid behind his brother, concealing himself as best he could underneath his cloak and hoping no one would speak to him.

“You all right, Dwale?” Privet asked, taking half a step away to expose him.

“I’m sorry brother. I’d been without sight for so long this is all a bit overwhelming.”

Absentmindedly, Dwale reached up and rubbed the beautiful jade eyes that now rested in his sockets.

“Hey, stop rubbing,” Privet scolded, swatting his hand away.

“I’m sorry brother, but when the colors are too bright, they itch.”

“You’ll get used to it.”

“I cannot tell you how pleased we are to engage in trade with our ally on such a scale,” Minister Ju’kat said with a bow, templing his furry hands. “I must say, we were surprised when your queen suggested this exchange occur without vessels.”

“Airships? Pffft. Who needs airships when you have access to real magic?” Setsuna asked as the workers removed the ropes. “I’ve kept this gate charged since we left. Every drop of water you send through it will exit through its sibling back on Wysteria, directly into the Cliffrose reservoir.”

Ju’kat stepped up to the glowing ring. “Fascinating. Thousands of leagues traveled without time.”

“Try not to be too jealous.” Setsuna flicked out her hands, and they were bathed in a greenish glow. The ring responded, its etched channels flowing faster and brighter, pulsing with a heartbeat, steam rising as if it were hot, yet no heat could be felt. She chanted a prayer to Ramma, and when she withdrew her hands, the ring hummed steadily. The center of the ring collapsed in on itself, as if the air itself were folding over and over again like paper, falling inward as if it were shooting out the far end, yet nothing emerged. Finally, the folds swirled into a grey mist and became a miniature maelstrom, little crackles of green lightning sparking here and there.

“All right, it’s ready,” she said confidently.

The Minister said a few words in their native tongue, and the gathered crowd cheered as the divert in the aqueduct was removed. The turquoise mineral water poured into the ring, disappearing into the swirling mist.

The crowd cheered and threw confetti into the air, startling Dwale, who scuttled beneath Privet’s cloak.

Setsuna jumped up atop the ring and raised her hands. “Please, gentlemen, I know I am really, really cute, but the fact is, I’m already engaged, so please don’t fall in love with me. I’ve got a really busy day planned and it would ruin my schedule if I had to turn away a slew of suitors.”

The cheering died down, the crowd looking at each other in confusion.

Privet covered his face with his hand and groaned.

“And this gate will remain open permanently?” Ju’kat marveled.

Setsuna breathed on her manicured fingernails and polished them up against her black leather corset. “It’ll require regular charging from me, but as long as I’m around, yes, it is permanent.”

“I feel like you don’t know what the word permanent means,” Privet observed.

“And…if you don’t mind. When can we expect the first payment?” Jukat asked expectantly.

“Oh that.”

Setsuna appeared next to him and gave a wooden crate a swift kick with her stylish, black thigh-high boot, spilling gold coins out onto the cobblestone.

“I trust this is sufficient for now?”

Ju’kat’s eyes went wide with lust. “Oh, your queen is…most generous.”

“It’s easy to be generous with other people’s money,” she mumbled.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t catch that.”

“Oh nothing, just pondering the finer points of morality.”

While the Ronesians gathered up the coins, and fought off a few opportunistic children, a fortune teller rowed up to the edge of the canal and held her hands out to them.

“Strangers from distant lands, may I read your fate for you? Chert can show your fortune, your future children, your future spouse.”

Setsuna playfully tapped her elbow into his ribs. “Whaddya say, Privet? Shall we see what our kids will look like?”

“Nah, let’s just make our report back to Wysteria.”

“Why? They’ll know the gate is working when they see water rushing out the other end.”

The fortune teller ran her claws along Privet’s sleeve. “He’s a serious one, isn’t he?”

Setsuna scratched her pointed ear. “He’s just grumpy because he got woken up early this morning.”

“That’s because you came into my bunkroom,” he responded through gritted teeth.

“I was bringing you breakfast.”

“You tried to slip in underneath my sheets.”

“I was trying to bring you breakfast in an unusual way.”

“A crazy way.”

“A quirky and endearing way.”

The fortune teller turned to Dwale and clucked her tongue. “Are they always like this?”

He nodded shyly. “I’m afraid so. My brother never did like pushy women.”

Setsuna’s mouth fell open. “Wait, he doesn’t?”

“Surely that has been made plain to you.”

Setsuna pointed a green fingernail at the fortune teller. “Okay, you, leave...”

She moved her finger to Privet. “You, go get me some custard.”

“Yes, your pushiness.”

She then set her hand atop Dwale’s head. “And you, are going to tell me all about what kind of woman your brother likes.”

“I’ll do the best I can.”

“Tell her nothing, Dwale!” Privet insisted out as he signaled over a boat that was selling sweets.

“I’m sorry, brother, but I cannot ignore an order from my matron, you know that.”

“She’s not your matron!”

“But she did buy me.”

“To set you free.”

Dwale covered his mouth in realization. “Oh yes. I keep forgetting.”

Setsuna shook her head, causing her oversized pigtails to flop about. “No, this time it’s okay, tell your matron everything you know about his preferences.”

Dwale furrowed his brow. “My freedom is contingent upon your whim?”

She patted him on the head. “Now you are learning how women think, Dwale.”

“I see. It is most complicated.”

“You have no idea.”

A few minutes later, Privet returned with a custard cup and tossed it to her.

“Time to celebrate,” she announced, cramming a bite into her mouth.

“What are we doing tonight? Another expensive candlelight dinner at a fancy restaurant?”

Dwale covered his belly. “I’m still stuffed from last night.”

“Nope, tonight I’m going to cook you both a nice home cooked meal.”

“How are you going to do that?”

“Come, I’ll show you.”

Setsuna pulled her finger through the air, opening it like a zipper.

“Can’t we just take a gondola like normal people?”

“Come on, silly. Normal is overrated.”

Setsuna threw her shoulder into Privet, pushing him through the gate. He stumbled out into crisp mountain air, a layer of frost clinging to the sweet-smelling pine trees.

As Dwale fell though, Privet covered his eyes and looked to the west. The city was just a little maze of canals in the distance, the long aqueducts trailing into it like streamers.

Dwale stood up and drew his cloak in tightly around him. “I’m never going to get used to that.”

“Yeah, me neither.”

“Welcome home, boys,” came a voice from behind.

Privet turned around, and found that he was standing on a pleasant little mountain path, leading up to a stately manor nestled in amid the cool mountain dale. Bunches of trees nestled up against its strong stone walls, as if comforted by its presence. A little spring bubbled up through a stone well to one side, trickling down the etched rock and feeding into a crisp mountain stream below, teeming with trout.

Setsuna stood proudly at the carved mahogany doorway and gave an overly dramatic bow, bidding them to enter.

Inside was a well-furnished living room. Cozy fur rugs lay before a warm, crackling fireplace. Carved oaken chairs were padded with soft pelts. Crystal lanterns hung from rungs along the walls, bathing the room in friendly light. This place was different than the hotels where they had been staying. It felt like a real home.

“What is this?” Privet asked as he and his brother stepped through.

“You like it? I bought it myself.”

Privet looked out the window, surprised to see a stunning view of the mountain waterfall at the other end of the dale.

“You bought this?”

Setsuna appeared in the center of the room and spun around happily. “Well, I did sign a contract with Queen Hazel promising to never engage in piracy again. This seemed like a nice place to retire to.”

Privet ran his fingers over the elegant bookcase. “I can’t believe you did this. It’s so…responsible.”

She placed her hands on her hips. “Well, what did you think I did with all the money I got from the federal reserve?”

“I dunno. I figured you would have gambled it all away by now.”

“Pffft. Gambling is for idiots who don’t understand math. Real estate is where it’s at. Come here, let me show you around.”

She proudly led them through the bedrooms and study. Dwale couldn’t believe how soft the beds looked, and half the games in the lounge he had never heard of before. Despite his feeling that such diversions were for women only, he found himself wanting to try each of them.

Privet could barely believe his eyes when she showed them the shower room, with real hot water heated by the fire crystals running along one wall. In the navy he had developed a real taste for hot showers, but had consigned himself to cold buckets again after returning to Wysteria. Now, he found himself anxious to have one again as soon as possible.

Setsuna lead them into the lavish kitchen, the smell of fresh herbs filling the air from the bed in the windowsill. She clasped her hands together and jumped up and down. “So, do you like it?”

“It’s wonderful,” Dwale praised.

“It really is,” Privet had to admit.

Setsuna clapped her hands. “Oh, I’m so glad you like it…because it’s yours.”

Both their heads snapped towards her. “Ours?”

“Yes, yours and his. The title and deed are in both your names. This house, and the ten acres surrounding it belong to you. Since it’s a proprietary ownership, you don’t have to pay taxes or anything. It’s yours for all time.”

Privet’s eyes were as big as saucers. “Are you kidding?”

The humor left her face. “If you knew how much I paid for this place, you wouldn’t ask me that.”

Privet was so shocked, he didn’t know what to say.

“Oh, and here’s the best part,” she gushed, pulling the paperwork out of a cabinet. “Since you are landowners here on Ronesia now, that also makes you citizens as well.”

She pulled out a pair of identification cards and thrust them into their stunned hands.

Dwale held up the card with his name on it. He could hardly believe his eyes. “Citizens?”

“Yep, you can vote, work, buy things, legal status and protection, jury duty, the whole shebang.”

Privet and Dwale looked at each other, their eyes swimming.

With a sweet smile, Setsuna thrust her hand out. “Welcome to being a real person. You are property no more.”

Privet had to steady himself against a chair to keep himself from falling over. “You did this…for us?”

“Well, yeah,” she said sincerely. “You’re family.”

Dwale was so overwhelmed he didn’t know how to feel. He reached out and touched the marble counter, running his fingers along it as if he feared it would disappear.

“This…is my house?” he said softly. “I’ve…never owned anything before.”

Setsuna spun around on one toe. “Welcome to the bright world of property rights.”

Dwale reached up and touched his cheek, and found tears there. He turned to her, a little concerned. “I…I don’t understand. I’m not sad, but I am crying.”

He wiped the tears away. “Why? Is there something wrong with me?”

His reaction was so innocent, so sincere, Setsuna found herself tearing up as well. “No…no, there is nothing wrong with you, Dwale. You’ve just had a very hard life, and it’s finally getting better.”

Dwale moved to drop to his knee in thanks, but caught himself, and instead just ran up and hugged her about the waist.

“Thank you so much,” he burst out. Then he completely lost control, weeping and sobbing, his whole frame trembling with joy. “You are the best person I’ve ever met. You’re like an angel.”