“Master?” Pratt squints. “Master of what?”
“Arts,” he shrugs. “History. Combat. Philosophy. Politics… it as seen as conquering life and all her distinguished attributes.”
“Do you have any ambition to become a Fychu?” Mae asks.
“No,” Clarence laughs, stroking his chin in amusement. “I don’t think I’m Fychu material.”
“Why not?” Pratt frowns.
“And you?” Mae directs her question to Qippert before Clarence can answer.
“Uh…” and he’s blushing. “I am more than happy to serve below Blovid and the Fychu, but… I do not think my talents lie in their intensive studies and responsibilities.”
“Why? What do Fychu’s do?”
“They are Peace Leaders,” Qippert explains. “As acting representatives of the Lost Princesses—those who bestowed the Three Gifts to The Three Worlds. Fychus are the closest link to the other side we can get.”
“What other side?” Werzo frowns.
“Do you mean to God?” I ask.
“Well…” Clarence sort of nods, “to the creator of this,” he holds up his hands, indicating the space around him, “all this. All life. In your world you refer to Him as God. But here, it is just the Spirit, the Mother, the embodiment of The Way.” He readjusts in his seat. “When She created life, She sent Her daughters to deliver Her gifts, one to each world. To Dellapalania, She gave the Gift of Sight, to Nerwolix, the Gift of Knowledge and to Mybyncia, the Gift of Ability.”
“What are the Gifts?” Pratt asks. “Like, what do they do?”
“They are the most sacred of objects. Together, they form a tool... a weapon,” Clarence sighs. “They can create life… or destroy it. But they’re never to be used. The Gifts are meant to be kept separate, to keep the peace of the Three Worlds.”
“So what’s the point?” Jace asks. “If they’re not even supposed to be used? Why have them?”
“They’re not supposed to be used for personal gain, for minor disputes or conflicts. The Gifts are a way of keeping the Three Worlds from falling, from descending into chaos and destruction. It is only in the direst of circumstances that they should be brought together. And they shouldn’t, really, ever. No one has the capacity to wield that sort of power. Not even a Fychu. That’s why they’re kept separate.” Clarence glances around, making sure we understand. “Among other responsibilities, a Fychu is meant to protect the Gifts. He’s meant to help keep the balance of the world.”
“How do you become a Fychu?” Mae asks just as Sampson enters the Dining Hall, everyone growing silent.
“Something I missed?” Sampson seats himself next to Qippert who bows at his arrival.
“Can we have the Hunnis brought?” Salva calls over her shoulder, into the main hallway behind her. She sits next to Sampson, glancing around the table with more enthusiasm than I’ve seen. “The Glippis heart will be served first, followed by the Wigwig and Wormin.”
“So what’s this Wigwig we’re eating?” Werzo rubs his stomach before making a disgruntled face. “It’s not like the eye… is it?”
“It is the main prey of the Glippis,” she says, oblivious to the slight, “served in a bed of Wormin. You will enjoy the Wigwig, I think. It is the most tender part of the beast. Laden in blood with a hint of stomach acid.”
“Can’t wait…” Jace mutters next to me.
I stifle a giggle.
“Oh I do hope you enjoy the Wigwig and Wormin,” Qippert claps his hands together. “Of all the Mybyncian dishes, it is my favorite.”
“Not a fan of the heart and eye?” I ask.
“I personally prefer the tongue,” Jace flicks his brows with a smirk.
“We do not serve tongue,” Salva says just as bowls of a clear liquid are placed all around us. “Hunnis, as requested.”
“Hunnis?” Sampson raises a brow, smirking at his friend. “To wash down the Wormin?”
Clarence shrugs, “The kids asked for it.”
Sampson stifles a smile. “Perhaps we should wait for the queen?”
“I was under the impression she wasn’t coming,” Clarence frowns, looking to Salva for confirmation.
“Even if that’s true, Princess Ariana will be joining us,” Sampson says. “The chancellor as well. We would do well to wait.”
“Have you spoken with any of them this morning?” I ask. “We know the queen’s not happy. But what about Chancellor Keller? Or Princess Ariana? Do they know?”
“Know what?”
“If we’re leaving after breakfast.”
“That…” he exhales, “has yet to be determined.”
“On what remaining factors?”
“The queen’s decision. I don’t think she’s made up her mind yet. That’s why she’ll be joining us for breakfast,” Sampson glances around, locking eyes with each of us. “To gather our side of the events. Please let Clarence, Chancellor Keller and me do most of the talking. I wouldn’t want to chance an early departure.”
“So there’s still hope for a best case scenario?” Tucker asks.
“There’s always hope, Tucker,” Sampson says, pushing himself from his seat and rising to an immediate stand.
Queen Ravan, Princess Ariana and Chancellor Keller arrive—along with a small fleet of attendants—all standing in the tunnel’s entrance. They’re clad in the same garments as yesterday, except the queen and princess sport a golden, floor length skirt and the chancellor’s tunic matches the royal yellowish hue. At their sight, Clarence follows Sampson to a rise, Qippert and the rest of us quickly doing the same.
The queen waits a second longer, scanning the entire table before assuming the closest coral chair with a slow, haughty movement. She motions to Princess Ariana and once both are seated, Chancellor Keller opens his arms to us.
Everyone begins to sit but Sampson is quick to shake his head. I’m already seated—Mae, Pratt and Salva as well—and just as I’m about to jump back to a stand, Sampson clarifies.
“Females first,” he glances around the table, locking eyes with the Rogue’s confused expressions. “And now the males.”
At this, the rest of the group sits in silence.
“I see you have ordered some Hunnis,” the queen glances to the bowls of clear liquid. “Eager to suppress rising nerves?”
“To accompany the Wormin, your Highness,” Clarence grins. “I have heard it is a spectacular duo.”
“Have you now?” she indicates for an attendant to bring out the meal, then looks back to Clarence. “I am quite certain there was no Wormin at the feast last night, yet I distinctly remember you enjoying a rather generous portion of Hunnis. But,” she shrugs to herself, “perhaps I was mistaken.”
Clarence’s smile fades. “It is delicious with several dishes, your Majesty.”
“Mother, please,” Princess Ariana lowers her eyes, blushing with embarrassment. “Clarence is not the only one who could use some nerve suppression...”
“I am sure I do not know what you mean,” she withdraws so the attendant can place what looks like a long, mushy green tube on the table before her. Inches thick, it’s about a foot in length and coated in a heavy, milky glaze. “There is no reason to be nervous unless you have done something for which you intensely regret. And if that is not the case, which I am sure it is not, there is no need for a relaxant, is there?”
“How about for the simple pleasure of its effect?” the princess scowls, shooting her mother a look.
“Again, there is no reason…”
“Then how about for the sole purpose of wanting our guests to enjoy themselves? We have not begun to eat and I am already growing sick.”
“Then you should mind your nightly activities better,” Queen Ravan picks up the Glippis heart with her fingers and takes a bite. She gestures to her daughter who begrudgingly nibbles on the green tube and places it back down again.
Princess Ariana motions to the rest of us, “Please.”
Jace and I both eye the slimy heart whi
le an apprehensive Booker grasps it on both ends. He lifts it and, sniffing once, brings the tube to his mouth. Ripping a piece free, he suppresses a revolted face as best as possible, but not before catching Werzo’s eye who reaches for his bowl of Hunnis instead.
“Are you not eating?” the queen asks.
I think she’s addressing him but after a minute of silence, I look at her and, immediately startled, find her eyes are set on me, the question hanging in mid-air. She’s waiting for an answer.
“Just pacing myself.”
“Pacing?” she looks aghast.
“You mentioned nightly activities. I’m afraid they’ve left me a little weak…” I clear my throat, “…and the last thing I’d want is to eat too fast and upset myself. I’d feel terrible if I insulted your hospitality so….” I nod, summing up. “Just pacing myself.”
The queen glances to Jace who also hasn’t taken a bite.
“Uh… me too.”
“Perhaps the Wigwig and Wormin will be more to your liking. Hopefully they will not upset your delicate system. Tell me,” she nibbles on the heart, “what caused your state of weakness?”
Sampson, Clarence, Qippert and Chancellor Keller all look to me, wanting to jump in, hoping I’ll give them an in.
“I was thrown into the wall twice.”
Three times, actually, but who’s counting?
“Twice?” she’s surprised at this.
“Once in the East Wing when Salva and I returned to find Pratt,” I indicate to her, “with a dagger to her throat, and the second time when I attempted to free her. Kendal knocked us both down. I was lucky. Pratt was thrown into the water without her protective gear. That was the second time I thought she would die.”
“How upsetting.”
“Yes,” I agree. “Although hearing the Muskos plan to murder Mae and myself wasn’t exactly comforting either.”
The queen takes another bite of the heart. “And did they give any adequate reasons or justification in this?”
Again the three Dofinikes and the chancellor watch wide-eyed and anxious as Reid and the others pause as well. Somehow, I’ve inadvertently gotten in the middle of the queen’s decision on the extension of our stay.
“They said blood for blood. Though,” I shrug, leaning back to consider the events, “if my memory serves, we were attacked first. By your patrols, when we arrived. Oh, and after the peace signal had gone out. So…”
“Fallon…” Sampson begins with a warning tone.
“…It strikes me as odd that after we failed to retaliate against an unmerited attack, the Muskos deemed our murder necessary to validate the deaths caused by the Vermix—our sworn enemy.”
Sampson, Clarence, Qippert and Chancellor Keller exchange glances with one another, terrified of the queen’s reaction. She lowers the Glippis heart to the table, threading her fingers beneath her chin. After a minute of watching with intense orange eyes, like she’s trying to detonate me with just her stare, she inhales.
“Yes... I suspect that would strike you as odd.”
“Wouldn’t it for you as well?”
“Not if I had been properly briefed on the situation.”
“A hostile environment is not an excuse for poor manners.”
“And the arrival of company does not excuse the natural act of survival.”
“So…” I bite my lip, certain I shouldn’t continue, “Is it custom to ignore an international peace call? Or only on days of ambush?”
“My,” the queen shakes her head, an expression of surprise, “you certainly do not hold back, do you?”
“Don’t misunderstand me, your Majesty. I have no intention of being rude. But if you ask a question, I’m sure you’d appreciate an honest answer. Anything else would be disrespectful.”
She narrows her eyes accusingly. “Did you enjoy the Glippis eye?”
“Not in the least.”
“Yes… it is definitely an acquired taste,” she glances to Princess Ariana. “My daughter would not touch it until a few years ago when Blovid visited. He kept requesting it. I do not know if it was to be nice or if he actually enjoys the dish. Fychu,” the queen looks to Sampson. “What are your opinions on the matter?”
“Which matter?” he chokes on a laugh.
“The Glippis eye. There is no point in serving dishes to guests who only want to be considerate.”
“Personally,” Sampson says, “I am more of a Brekin-tail Dofinike, myself. I never understood the appeal of the Glippis. However,” and now he considers, “the Wormin never bothered me either. Especially served with the Hunnis,” he glances to Clarence.
“And the rest of you?” she looks around the table.
Booker takes another gaping bite while Werzo downs a hearty sip of the Hunnis.
“Do not make them tell you they hate it,” Princess Ariana says before turning to me, “but thank you for being so honest, Fallon.”
“Yes,” the queen nods, “it is rather refreshing. Let me ask you this,” she redirects her attention back to me, “do you think it wrong of me to consider your immediate departure?”
Inhaling, I give myself a moment to answer. “This is your home, your Majesty. I can understand your need to remove anything—and anyone—that threatens that. But we came in peace, and as you said of your patrol, company does not excuse the natural act of survival.”
At this, the queen’s mouth lifts into a smile. Satisfied, she looks at Sampson. “We have the Muskos in custody along with all the Vermix captured from yesterday’s raid. The entire Northern Shore has been swept clean and I have been notified that all of the Vermix in the South are detained as well. It is strongly believed that they were here for Blovid and the Shadow Bag,” she turns to Chancellor Keller. “But they have stayed silent on both intentions, is that correct?”
“They have admitted to seeking Blovid.”
“And the Shadow Bag?”
“They would not confirm.”
“Have they said anything?”
The chancellor shakes his head. “No. But after Blovid fled, they continued their search with similar hostility. It is my belief…” he takes a breath, “…that they will not stop. Your Majesty… I fear this is only the beginning. “
“It is not the first time a foe has come seeking our Gift. We will protect it as we always have.”
Chancellor Keller, the three Dofinikes and Salva exchange glances. The chancellor clears his throat. “They—they have made threats against you, your Majesty.”
“It would surprise me if they did not.”
“It seems they want a war.”
“Then a war they shall have. What preparations are being made?” She motions one of the attendants over. “Please bring around bowls of Jiji. Our guests are too shy to ask for something they would actually enjoy.”
“Yes, your Majesty,” the miyon attendant says before retreating.
“Equivalent to your rice,” Queen Ravan nods, looking to the chancellor for his answer.
“Right now we are increasing security along the shores. The Vermix got lucky with penetrating our Southern Waters. It will not happen again.”
“Are there any offensive plans in place?”
Sampson, Clarence and Qippert exchange glances again. Sampson is the first to speak up. “Queen Ravan, are you inquiring on whether there is a plan to attack Dellapalania?”
“And her moons. Apparently the Vermix have been busy there as well. I will not have my people slaughtered again.”
“But, your Majesty,” Clarence begins, his voice rough, “Dellapalania is in a state of civil war right now. Both Vermix and Arizals inhabit the planet. It would not be right to attack…”
“Then the Arizals would be wise to flee, such as yourselves and Blovid.”
“I did not flee,” Clarence grates, straining to hold back. “I was enslaved, just like the Fychu, just like these humans. Blovid left because the other Arizal Leaders were being killed. Reuzkimpart is on the war path to claim Dellapalania for himself. Do
not punish every Arizal civilian for his lunacy.”
“He is the one who discovered your prophecy, yes?”
Sampson nods. “And is intent on preventing it.”
“He is a lunatic then?”
Clarence seethes again. “But your Majesty—”
“Do you think they’ll stage another attack?” I ask the chancellor, hoping to bring the topic back to Mybyncia so Clarence doesn’t lose it.
“At this point,” Chancellor Keller inhales, “it is unclear. The Vermix lost a lot of their numbers… but if they are intent on getting the Shadow Bag…”
“What I mean is—do you think they’ll go about it the same way? The Vermix are malicious, not stupid. If they saw how many they lost in an attack like the one from yesterday without retrieving the Gift, they’ll probably try something sneaky. Something you won’t immediately notice.”
“Like what?”
“I’m not sure… but I wouldn’t be surprised if they attacked differently. I’m not familiar with their strategies, but they won’t come at you again the same way. Not unless they’re willing to use all resources and I highly doubt someone as motivated as Reuzkimpart would hand Dellapalania back over to the Arizals.”
“Very wise,” Queen Ravan nods, speaking to Sampson. “I can understand why you prize this one.” She turns to Clarence and with an expression that gives nothing away, tilts her head. “Or is it for other reasons?”
At this, the attendants return with bowls of pink mush, broken into tiny cubes. The bowls are filled, nearly to the brim with the soggy pieces.
“I want to apologize for Perio,” Princess Ariana blurts out, “and for what happened.”
“Ariana, there is no need…” the queen starts.
“There is,” she gulps, eyeing all of us, especially Pratt. With a heavy inhale, her mouth turns down in an apologetic frown. “There is nothing to say that can excuse his behavior. Perio is… radical.”
“Tell me about it…” Jace mutters next to me.
“He feels justified in everything he does.” The princess turns to her mother. “He thinks you are turning your back on Mybyncia.”
“He can think what he likes. Once he sits on the throne, he can make his own decisions about what is best for Mybyncia.”
Plague of Mybyncia Page 9