Lore of the Underlings: Episode 8 ~ The Trial (5 page)

The pale pikesman handed over his package,
whispered a message, and fled the hall.

Fyryx unwrapped the bundle. His eyes lit
up.

He hoisted a girly journal.

“Now, what a fortuitous turn of events… My
friends! Some timely new evidence!”

Xoxo recognized it and shuddered.

“The diary of this Miss Apprehension.”

Fyryx tried to crack it open. A hawk’s jaw
lock prevented him. “Seems to be sealed. If you’ll do the honors…”
He thrust the book at its teeny owner.

Author Yo, though, proved reclusive, acting
reluctant to show her hand. Judge Hurx all but threw the book at
her, shoving it in her direction again.

This time she reached out a trembling limb
and bared an arm, her soft bronze skin.

“Take it!”

She took the prized possession. Then, holding
the journal in her left, she used the right to unveil herself.

Smaller than Qoqo and cuter still, Xoxo was a
kewpie doll. Her face was rounder than her sister’s, her hair
longer — a full, flowing mane. Mother nature set the tone, the hue
of her locks like virgin soil. Sweet and fertile, a farm boy’s
dream. Pick of the crop. Top of the cream.

Treygyn looked drunk from drinking her in. He
gazed at Xoxo. She at him. Each one mouthed the other’s name.

Treasured, her eyes glowed heavenly gold. And
yet molten. Vulcan hot.

Fyryx looked not too sure what he witnessed,
but he wanted to break it up. “I see that you see your leaver-boy
Yin. So, let the record show, you’ve ID’d him. Happy?

“Now on with the unlocking!”

Xoxo slipped a ring from her finger and put
it in the keyhole. Click. Leaves unfolded by the hundreds.

“Read it,” Fyryx ordered. “Quick.”

That commandment made her cry. She was
speechless, petrified.

“Objection!”

It was Minyon Myne.

The elderman stood on his makeshift bench,
holding a pale palm up in protest. Yet he was calming in dissent. A
voice for the voiceless. Public servant.

Poor folk had no better advocate. His black
coat was good as a law suit.

“Your honor sir, if it pleases the
court…”

Judge Hurx grumbled. “It does not.”

“This kid’s book isn’t a legal exhibit.”

“Legal schmegal, elderman. Sit.”

“But…”

“Overruled. You’re trying my patience.”

“What about self-incrimination? Badgering?
Hearsay? Leading the witness?”

“And your point is…”

“Justice sir.”

“I am justice, minister…”

Minyon winced but sat back down, saving his
breath — at least for now.

Fyryx resumed. “Without further ado… assuming
none of you object…”

Xoxo and Qoqo traded looks. The older Yo girl
snatched the book of secrets. Then she faced the music.

“It’ll be okay sis. I’ve got this.”

Fyryx assessed then acquiesced — though not
without his signature gesture. He waved dismissively at the pair
with the air of a temperamental conductor.

“Much a duo about nothing. What’s a maestro
supposed to do? I know…” He reached for his sky-high hat and pulled
out a constable’s hand baton.

“Now one of you yo-yos had better start
singing or I’ll bring yo’ ma and pa Yo in to question.”

“No, no!” cried Qoqo. “Not that! I’ll do
anything…”

“Then set your way-back machine for last
Sunnyday, and let that diary speak for itself.”

Qoqo fanned the leaves of grass and found a
passage three dawns past. In fact, it opened on its own.

She blushed to be in Xoxo’s head. “Forgive me
my sister,” she said. Then she read…

Sunnyday, Lune 21st ~ Good morning, dear diary! It’s
finally here. Eve’s eve. Can you even believe it?!

You know tomorrow’s my fave every year. But this
one’s gonna be THE best ever. The Revels and my b-day together.
Yay! And not just any birthday. The big sixteen. Pretty sweet,
right? You and I both know what that means, girlfriend.

So long folk school. Adios scrollbooks. Bye-bye
bookman and your bad breath.

By the way, at the end of rune class yesterday, Trey
did something kinda funny. He wanted to carry ‘em home for me — my
books I mean, not old man Dustum. Ew!

Anyway, that was super weird. Weird in a good way
I’m saying. It’s just… we’ve been friends for like forever. Longer
than Layly and Vallon and me. So, why go Romeo all of a sudden? Or
am I misreading him? Guess I hope not.

Can’t wait to see what happens today…

Ciao for now diary. Talk to you later.

Afternoon delight ~ Hey, a little update diary. Yup,
you got it. He did it again! Carried my keepsack, ten scroll rolls,
and rune board all the way home to the back of the Inn. And then he
turned red when we said goodbye, like he wanted to… like he was
gonna… Oops, that’s mother. Gotta go. Time for work. And some Trey
dreaming.

My heart’s beating like a drum. Trey Trey Trey Trey
Trey Trey Treygyn.

Qoqo tried to hide a grin. She flipped the
page. Her face turned grim.

Night of the living dead ~ Help me diary. This can’t
be. I pray it’s a nightmare. Wake me please.

Or let death take me as I sleep.

The reaper has come to harvest my life tonight… and
love dies on the vine.

I’m sick to my stomach. I’ve got to think. Maybe if
I write it out…

Qoqo paused and checked with her sister. Xoxo
nodded to go on.

It happened about an hour ago. I was minding the
tavern as usual — you know — tending to tables and dodging the
drunks. I must have been acting distracted though, cuz I dumped my
tray on Mr. Boxbo and doused Mr. Ixit in pyne tree gin. By then it
was already half past dinner when one of our Keep’s fattest cats
strolled in…

“
Elderman Mastafard Plymix!” crowed father, “I’m
honored. Please sir, be my guest!” And he ushered the nobleman off
to our very best table, booting some plain folk first.

“
Treasure, good innkeeper. Right by the hearth.
Now fetch me some supper and drink. I’m parched.”

“
Straight away lordship. Xoxo! Come!”

I knew that tone and I came running.

“
But what delicious dish is this?” the elderman
asked. He leered at me. “I’m always looking for pretty young
things…”

“
Beg pardon?” said father.

“
For Fardy, I mean. A match for the hand of my
handsome son. A damsel worthy of elderdom. Comely yet motherly.
Yes, like this one…”

“
Ah!” answered father. He grinned, plotting
something. “May I present my younger daughter. Xoxo turns sixteen
tomorrow.”

“
Mmm…” The elder ogled harder. “So, just old
enough to wed. And you implied you had another? A home-maid buffet
or smorgasbord?”

Father called into the gaming hall for Qoqo, who’d
been dealing cards.

“
Here’s our first born. Runs the casino. Cunning,
if that’s what you’re looking for.”

But Qoqo looked clueless at the moment. “There’s a
new menu,” I whispered. “We’re on it.”

The men entered into negotiations. Mother entered
the room. She’d caught wind.

“
A word with my dear wife, Master Plymix?”

“
Make it a clause, my in-laws to be!”

As they conferred, we overheard. Mother and father
were secretly giddy.

“
Wife, I have a scheme today.”

“
Husband, you must have read my mind.”

“
Our chump’s come in.”

“
We just need to scam him.”

“
And leave this lowlife lot behind.”

“
I’m thinking a con job should do the
trick.”

“
A shell game…”

“
Or hoax…”

“
Like pig-in-a-poke.”

“
Classic.”

“
Then we sneak up the social ladder.”

“
And break into high society.”

“
Slick!”

“
First class, here we come at last!”

“
But that’s not even the best part, sweetheart,
compared to the bride price we’ll exact.”

They laughed.

Then father turned serious fast. “It better be
major, we’re losing cheap labor — no matter which minor, more or
less…”

“
Well, speaking of less, that’s all we’ll get
unless we go take care of business. We’ve got to strike while the
ironwood’s hot and seal the deal before he’s not.”

“
Right you are as usual wife! I propose we close
this ruse by making a daughter he can’t refuse…”

What happened next I do not know. We waited for
word, a sentence.

“
Xoxo!”

My name became the kiss of death. The hug of a
newborn ugliness. I swear I heard a prison door. And just like that
my life was over.

Qoqo offered herself instead, but they didn’t buy
it. She protested.

“
Mother! Father! Don’t be misled. Fardy’s thirty
and a bubble-head. Blows on his drug horn all day long.”

“
Silence girl! The deal is done.”

Lord Plymix beamed and made the announcement. “So
shall our clans be joined as one!” His face was flush with success
and wine. “The wedding will be on Moonday morn.”

I turned to my parents and begged them to listen.
“But Treygyn,” I cried, “is my one true…”

“
Who?”

“
Treygyn. Treygyn Yin.”

“
Yin?!”

“
You stay away from him!”

“
Him and the rest of his oily clan.”

“
But…”

“
We’ve got a blood feud brewing against
them.”

Suddenly I felt light-headed, woozy. Someone said,
“Look how she swoons for her groom…”

Boom.

I woke on the floor of my room.

Diary, wherefore am I me? To be wed or not to be… A
winter of honor but discontent, or glorious summer with this son of
Yin…

Treygyn hung on her every word. Heads shook.
Folk bowed. Freebird cooed.

Ho-man flashed the stranger a cliff note,
just for a sense of the suspense.
“Miss must dis her parents’
pride or kiss her star-crossed guy goodbye.”
John Cap already
knew the plot.

“Is that the last of this epic?” asked Fyryx.
“I’d hate to miss the tragic ending. The smoking gun. Any clue to
who done it.”

Qoqo looked ready to lie then sighed. “No,
there’s more sir.”

Xoxo whimpered.

Lune 22nd, Mid Summer’s Evil ~ Unhappy birthday to
me, dear diary. Now you can be my obituary…

Her sister’s words left Qoqo speechless.
Dumbstruck. Choked up. In distress.

“Start spreading the news girl,” Fyryx
pressed.

“Sir?”

“I’m taking over as journalist.” And he
grabbed at her, nabbing the cub writer’s notebook. “This just in —
let’s read all about it…”

The story, however, took a twist. It bit him
on the fingertips.

“Guard! We have a hostile witness!”

Xoxo stepped forward. “Wait! I’ll
confess…”

Uncomfortable silence followed her offer
while Fyryx rubbed his reddened hand and shook the bee-sharp sting
from his fingers. “Now we’re talking,” the justice smirked.

He chucked the book and the thing took off.
It flew like a foo bird back to its owner.

She steadied herself on the mother shell.
Then Xoxo told what she had to tell.

“When I woke on the morning of Mid Summer’s
Eve, the Revels were already underway. I could hear happy noise
through my window pane. So I hid from the day and prayed for
rain.

“By noon my friends had heard the news and
came to find the rumors true. They sat at my bedside, Lay-Hay and
Val, as if I lay dying. We cried for a while. But once our tears
had all run dry they dragged me off to the festival. They meant
well. ‘It’s your birthday girl.’

“This fest was the biggest I’d ever
witnessed. I guess because you and your Guard weren’t there.”

Judge Hurx glared. She bit her tongue. “Just
kidding…

“Then I bought a jester’s mask and vanished
into the madding crowd. Funny how there was a peace to the
loudness. A calm that came from being anonymous. I in the storm.
But it passed too fast. My cover was blown and there stood
Treygyn.

“Somehow my lost love found me out. Trey —
remember? Let’s play it again…”

He knew the scene by heart it seemed. The lad
looked sad. This was no act.

“They say you’re to marry Fardy Plymix.”

“Yes, the wedding has been arranged.”

“And you love him?”

“I swear on my father’s honor…”

“Then live long and prosper.”

She paused. “He was gone.”

Xoxo had to turn away from Treygyn the
prisoner. She looked guilty. “If only I could have revealed it, my
lie…”

She stopped herself and wiped her eyes.

“Anyway, that brings us to yesterday —
everyone knows what happened then. The strangers showed up and the
Keep shut down. Father locked us in the Inn. It wasn’t till late
that I snuck out to find him. I had to. My gut knew that Trey was
in danger.

“By then the sky was crying, our town drowned
in shadow, mourning the moon. Worry cloaked the folk I met. They
scurried, in no mood to talk. Not about Treygyn anyway. No one had
seen him. The buzz was invasion. The reason they swarmed for home
sweet home.

“Their beeline thinned into a stream and then
nothing. The signs became clear. He was not to be found.

“So forlorn, alone, and soaked to the bone, I
headed home too to my room at the Inn. But I’d no sooner fallen in
bed than I heard them…

“Someone below… throwing stones at my…
uh-oh…”

Xoxo slowed. Her voice trailed off. As if
she’d made a grave mistake.

Fyryx’s ears pricked up. He smelled
blood.

“I should have guessed they’d send news of
your precious — sympathizers or lookouts no doubt. Guard! Round up
the usual suspects! We’ll find who’s behind all this.”