Shadows of the Dark Crystal (6 page)

N
aia sat alone on one of the many benches in the square, eating carefully with a pronged fork that a Podling had offered her. She ate slowly, though she wanted for all the world to scarf it down by the handful in her hunger. No one joined her, and that was fine, or so she told herself. She fed small pieces of food to Neech, but he spit them out, finally gliding free of her shoulder and off into the night to find prey more to his taste. For Naia, the Spriton food was palatable, though she longed for a sliver of fish or wort beetle. For the others—even the Skeksis Lords—it seemed scrumptious. Even well into the night, the two lords continued to call for more platters of food and goblets of wine. She watched them from the far end of the square, determined to stay out of their attention for the duration of their stay in Sami Thicket. This was Maudra Mera's affair. If it were somehow spoiled and Naia was within the village bounds, there would be no hearing the end of it from her parents.

After supper, the children and the Podlings collected the dishes in a barrel of water for rinsing in the river. Naia tried to help, ready to carry a barrel to the river herself, but she was greeted only with cautious glances, so she surrendered her dish with a quiet thank-you. Turning back to the square, she saw a long
line of Spriton had formed, leading up to the head table where the two lords were still seated. The platters of food had been cleared and replaced with only a large decanter of wine. Lord skekOk placed before him an enormous stack of paper, bound together with sinewy twine between two heavy leather covers. She'd heard of books before, but this was the first one she'd ever seen. He split it open to some page near the center and, when one of his castle attendants offered them, took a quill and pot of ink and set them to his right. From the distance, Naia watched as each Gelfling stood before him, one at a time, speaking to the lord as he moved the quill across the paper, staining it with a long stream of black ink. Naia jumped when a hand landed on her shoulder. Maudra Mera had joined her.

“The lords are taking count of all who live in Sami Thicket,” she said. “Since you do not live here, my little soggy pet, you needn't join the line.”

“Why does he take count? The lords have never taken count in Sog.”

In fact, Naia wasn't sure the lords had ever
visited
Sog, let alone taken count. The question was probably inappropriate, diving into the Spriton's business, but Naia asked it, anyway. The
maudra
could always refuse to respond. She touched one of Naia's locs absentmindedly, as if she'd never seen a thing like them before.

“It's only worth counting what's valuable,” she said, and Naia swallowed the jumble of words that rose in her throat. The
maudra
went on to smooth her cowl, arranging it and setting her black braids just so at her shoulder. “Now, listen, dear. I've put up a cot
for you in my chamber to sleep the night. It's a bit cool now, but Mimi will get the fire started soon enough. You're welcome to turn in at any time. But, but, I thought you might like to know, Kylan always tells a song after sup.”

In the deepening evening, Naia saw the pointed roof of the dwelling Maudra Mera indicated. Though she wasn't particularly interested in hearing a song, she also wasn't a child, ushered off to bed so early in the evening by her mother.

“Thank you, Maudra,” she said. “I'll just need to find Neech, then I'll be over. I don't want him to get lost.”

“That
eel
?” Maudra Mera asked. When Naia nodded, the
maudra
sighed but shrugged. “Yes, yes, of course . . . Well, we will see you soon for bedtime. Good night, my soggy dear.”

Maudra Mera took her leave, returning to Lord skekLach's elbow as he continued his interviews with the Spriton. As the line dwindled, the children and Podlings came back from dishes duty. Naia walked the perimeter of the square, whistling and calling quietly for Neech as the little ones gathered to sit on the wide walking stones near the hearth where the cooking fires had died down to glowing red embers. With Lord skekLach's earthshaking voice and Lord skekOk's tinny wobbling one as the backdrop, the children whispered among one another with excitement, and Naia couldn't help but pay attention when a slim Gelfling boy her age approached. It was the boy who had been staring at the split seed-nut when she'd arrived. He held a lute in one hand and took a seat on the bench facing the audience.

It figured such a strange one would be a song teller. Song
telling wasn't popular with the Drenchen. Weaving fantasy stories was a waste of time, according to her mother, who favored hard-talk and action. Stories were only good for distractions. While Naia peeked in between houses and in bushes for Neech, Kylan the Song Teller stood on the hearth and faced the Skeksis Lords, giving a deep well-practiced bow before taking a seat and tuning his instrument. Before long, he launched into a melodic overture on its thin harmonic strings. It was nothing like the Drenchen drums, but it was still beautiful, and he played well.

Naia finally found Neech draped from a small potted tree beside a hut's doorway, crunching on some night bug with happy snaps of his jaw. She gave him a kiss and let him take his place on her arm, making ready to spend the night as quickly as she could in Maudra Mera's home, out of the gaze of the census-taking lords and, as much as possible, out of the
maudra
's as well. With the lords to entertain and their
very important
people to be counted, Maudra Mera had little time for Naia and that was fine enough. She would accept the hospitality for what it was and say her polite good-byes on the morrow. In the meantime, though, she felt more alone in Sami Thicket than she had in the wild field beyond it.

Well, it's to be expected
, she thought.
They are Spriton, not Drenchen.
Their
maudra
was very different indeed, so of course their clan was as well.

From the hearth, along with the melody on the stringed instrument, Kylan began to sing:

Let me tell you a tale of Jarra-Jen

Who flew Thra once over and back again

Met a four-armed monster with half a heart

Jarra-Jen and the Hunter, and the Leap in the Dark

Naia paused to listen. The words sounded peculiar coming from his otherwise gentle voice. The awkwardness that had guarded him before, when she'd spoken to him first, had vanished, and now when he spoke, his tone was alive with energy and confidence. Even the Skeksis Lords turned their heads, Lord skekOk tilting his beak until it was pointed almost straight at the shining Sisters in the night sky.

Now the Great Sun is waning as the Rose One takes chase

Thra's Winter ninet as it drifts us through space

The nights long and chilly, the days short and shy

The Brothers scarce seen all three in the sky

Now traveling by foot through the Dark Wood alone

Making way through the bramble to Stonewood, his home

Fair footsteps fall firmly as he fasts through the fen

Lightning-born, Gelfling hero, our brave Jarra-Jen!

Now Jarra-Jen, by the Skeksis, was truly adored

And this eve he was laden with gifts from the lords

Thanks for telling them tales of his travels abroad

From Ha'rar to the North all the way South to Sog

Now the Three Sisters rising, two bold and one meek

Light the way for our hero as he reaches Black Creek

But the cold wind dies still and he hears in the dim

Monstrous breath heavy through pointy-toothed grin!

Now Jarra-Jen, yea, he turns and he peers through the dark

To see writhing black shadows in the tangled tree bark

And out of the night hover two burning eyes

The wicked horned mask that's the Hunter's disguise!

Now the Hunter, he laughs with a hook-beakéd smile

Picking his teeth with a bone all the while

He steps closer and closer! Stars shine on his face!

Jarra-Jen crouches ready–now the Hunter gives chase!

Now through the Dark Wood, Jarra-Jen, yea, takes flight

'Twas not in his plans to be dinner tonight!

And the Hunter's sharp maw snapping close at his heel

Snatching with claws bent to make him his meal

Now to the high hills of Dark Wood they fly

Jarra-Jen, thinking fast, up an incline he'll climb

Now his toes at the edge of the cliff into black

Seeing nothing below him, he—panting—looks back

Now the Hunter waits behind him

Jarra-Jen, he looks before him

Knowing not what lies below him

He looks to the stars above him

Now holding his breath, Jarra-Jen drops his pack

And slowly, before the dark Hunter attacks

He handfuls of treasure and gifts from the lords

Flings over his shoulders and into the gorge

Now his bag has run empty, and the Hunter comes forth

Jarra-Jen, his ears straining, now prays for his worth

Eyes closing, mouth smiling, “I've heard you!” he breathes

Now jumping outward, into freefall he leaps

Splash!

Up ahead now, above him, the Hunter cries “No!”

Jarra-Jen, yea, he cheers up from far down below

Drifting down the safe landing for which he'd prayed

Where he'd heard treasure falling on calm river waves

Naia hadn't realized she'd been holding her breath. She exhaled slowly and drew another one in. The song was over, and the Gelfling and Podlings alike threw their hands in the air and cheered for the triumphant Jarra-Jen. Even the Skeksis Lords had listened with keen interest, their counting finished. Lord skekLach had his big meaty hands steepled on the table before him, exchanging glances with Lord skekOk and finally giving a low guttural chuckle.

Kylan turned and gave another flourishing bow to the head table where Maudra Mera stood with the lords, then gave a littler bow to his audience of children and Podlings. He handed his lute to one of the youngsters to play with until the children were, one by one, called home by their parents. With as sharp an eye and ear as they had listened to Kylan's story, the lords at the table watched the children disappear in singlets and doublets, ready to be tucked in by their parents within their warm and cozy huts. When the square was nearly clear, with only Kylan and the single hearth keeper's dark silhouettes against the nighttime fire, Kylan packed his lute on his back and approached the head table.

“We counted this one, hm?” Lord skekOk said, leaning toward his fellow as Kylan stood before them with another formal bow.

“Thank you for your ear. I'm honored that . . . ,” Kylan said. Some of his confidence had escaped, but Naia couldn't blame him. Even her own courage suffered some withering in the presence of the Skeksis Lords, and she wasn't even the one standing before them.

“With the mother-family, yes,” Lord skekLach said, as if Kylan hadn't spoken at all. “Just two, just two in his old house.”

“Yes, my lords,” Kylan said. “My parents were taken by the Hunter when I was young.”

Maudra Mera, standing near the end of the table, stiffened and grabbed the sleeves of her cloak, quickly shuffling forward to take Kylan's shoulders in her hands and begin escorting him away from the gaze of the Skeksis Lords.

“I'm sorry, my lords, he's—”

Lord skekOk held up a hand, the ruffles at the end of his
sleeve flaring like webbed quills. He leaned forward so the tip of his needly nose nearly touched Kylan's. Naia felt her whole body tense, imagining herself in Kylan's place.

“This . . . Hunter. From song,” the Scroll Keeper said. “A myth? Some story, made by Gelfling?”

“It's not a myth,” Kylan said, but Maudra Mera laughed nervously and clutched his shoulders tightly.

“A story, yes,” she added. “To teach the children not to leave their homes after the Three Brothers have gone to bed. You know, they listen to the song tellers more oft than they do their own parents!”

“Songs of brave heroes, thwarting villains,” skekOk said, almost humming the words. “Gives a Gelfling hope, eh? Gets a Gelfling through the night? Very well, very well.”

Lord skekLach dug his claws under the front cover of his tome and, with an unceremonious gesture, flung the cover forward so the book shut with a cloud of dust and a resounding
thump
. He rose, leaving his quill, inkwell, and the tome to be taken away by one of his attendants.

“Lodging!” he cried.

Rising with the Census Taker, Lord skekOk gazed at the song teller standing uncomfortably before him, clacking his beak and sucking his teeth. When Maudra Mera laughed, much louder than seemed necessary, Lord skekLach jostled her by the shoulder with another clanking, ear-rattling guffaw.

“Lodging, little Gelfling mother! And more wine.”

“Yes, my lords, yes— Kylan, run on home now. Good night.”

With a peal of coaxing laughter, the
maudra
led the two lords
off, and that was the last Naia would see of them. They entered the town hall that adjoined the square, the only place still lit by torches and alive with music and the sounds of wine barrels and clinking cups.

Kylan, left standing at the table, let out a big breath. He held out his hand and looked upon it. It was shaking, nerves not yet calmed from his meeting with the lords. He pushed both hands into his pockets, looking around and meeting Naia's eyes only briefly before departing the square, presumably to wherever it was he called home. Then all was still and the square was doused in silence, so Naia took her time making her way to Maudra Mera's home.

There, on the main floor of the generous two-story hut, she found a stack of blankets and cushions laid out for her by the hearth and curled upon their flat softness. She longed for her hammock, the sounds of her sisters whispering between themselves in the adjoining room, and for the distant echoing footsteps of the Drenchen tapping through Great Smerth.