The Order of Odd-Fish

by James Kennedy

  Mr. Enderby was already gone when she got back. Jo darted back into the archives, turned to the first page of her father’s manuscript—the illustration of the ring of entwined fish. Yes! Each fish had a tiny letter in each eye. Jo looked at the first color in the manuscript—red. She scrutinized her ring, looking for a fish with a red eye—and found a tiny ruby. She checked the position of the ruby eye on the illustration and found a tiny J in the eye. The next color was blue. Jo found the sapphire on her ring, checked it against the illustration—an O. Jo’s pencil trembled as she wrote her translation in the margin of the manuscript:

  JO THIS IS YOUR FATHER

  Jo felt a triumphant panic. She started to sweat. She darted a couple of lines ahead:

  CAN’T RISK TELLING LILY

  Jo almost stopped, tingling all over; then she plunged back in, translating rapidly and wildly.

  MOTHER UNDERCOVER IN THE SILENT SISTERS

  SHE COULDN’T HAVE KNOWN THAT

  “Jo!” called out Ian’s voice. “Fiona’s here!”

  Jo snapped out of her translating. Not Fiona, not now—hosting her would take up the entire evening. She skipped ahead, furiously decoding:

  TWO YEARS OF RESEARCH

  SHE WAS ACTING STRANGELY

  Ian and Nora were running up the stairs, shouting her name. Jo gasped, her heart hammering. She knew if she was caught rummaging through the Hazelwoods’ files, translating secret messages, it would be impossible to explain—but she couldn’t stop.

  BUT IT WASN’T YOUR MOTHER THE SILENT SISTERS WANTED

  IT WAS YOU

  “Jo!” Ian barged into the reading room, breathless. “Jo, Fiona’s waiting at the doorstep!”

  Nora came right behind. “You have to go down and let her in!”

  “You let her in,” said Jo. “I’ll be down in a minute—”

  “No, no,” said Nora. “We have to do it according to dueling tradition, or the dishonor—”

  “Okay, okay, I’ll be down!” said Jo. “Just let me clean up.”

  “We’ll help,” said Ian quickly. “What files need to be put away?”

  “No!” said Jo with a sudden fierceness that surprised Ian and Nora. “I mean, only I know where this stuff goes. Don’t worry, I’ll come with you. Just wait a minute.”

  Jo closed the cardboard boxes and hauled them back where she found them, hiding them under some loose papers. But she couldn’t help herself—and while Ian and Nora waited in the reading room, she translated something from the middle of the book:

  WILL SEEM INVINCIBLE BUT IF YOU CUT OFF HIS STINGER AND TURN IT ON HIM

  “Jo!” called out Ian, outside the archives. “What’s taking you so long?”

  Jo furiously flipped the pages, decoding one last bit:

  FOLLOW THE GOLD THREAD

  Ian and Nora burst into the archives. “Jo! What are you doing back here?”

  Jo jumped. “Just putting this away! Out in a second! Hold on!” She stuffed the manuscript and ring in her bag, stood up, and smiled. Nora looked confused, but Ian looked positively angry.

  “Okay, let’s go!” she said.

  Fiona Fuorlini and her seconds were waiting at the doorstep. Jo met them at the door with Ian and Nora. Dueling convention required Jo and Fiona to exchange traditional insults at the door.

  Fiona said, “I enter this house, even as I spit on it. For this is the house of my enemy, and when I leave, may a thousand wild pigs overrun it and defile it with enthusiastic snorts.”

  Jo had learned the recommended response. “No defilement by any number of wild pigs equals the defilement you bring upon my house by your mere presence. Enter my house, but when you leave, may you be overrun by a thousand wild pigs and trampled into gruel, to be gobbled by those thousand wild pigs with hearty slurps.”

  Fiona said, “So be it.”

  “So be it,” said Jo.

  Fiona entered the lodge. Her seconds bowed and withdrew into the night. Ian and Nora closed the doors and stepped away. Fiona acted as though Jo wasn’t there, and looked around the lodge coolly. It was clear she wasn’t impressed.

  “So what are we going to do?” she said.

  “Dinner is in five minutes,” said Jo.

  Dinner at the lodge was loud and rowdy, as usual. The seats of Sir Oliver, Colonel Korsakov, and Aunt Lily were empty, but the remaining knights and squires made up for their absence, all talking at once. Jo stewed impatiently. She wanted nothing more than to go to bed early, lock the door, and get back to translating her father’s manuscript.

  Her mother, “undercover in the Silent Sisters”? “Cut off the stinger”? And “follow the gold thread”? Jo burned to excuse herself, to get back to the manuscript—but Fiona was wide awake, and surprisingly polite and sociable with the knights. And a few hard glances from Ian and Nora made it clear to Jo that she had to entertain Fiona all evening, if only to cover up that Fiona was there as part of an illicit dueling ritual.

  As the butlers cleared away the plates Jo asked, “What would you like to do now?”

  Surprisingly, Fiona had a ready answer: “I want to see the tapestry.”

  “Capital idea, Miss Fuorlini!” said Sir Festus. “I think it would be grand if we all went to the tapestry room and you enlightened us on its history and meaning.”

  “I’d be only too glad,” said Fiona.

  “History and meaning?” said Daphne. “What would Fiona know about that?”

  “Oh, didn’t you know?” Fiona’s eyes were cold, but her words were mild. “That tapestry was originally woven by the Wormbeards. One of my grandfathers many times over, the Grand Bebisoy of the Wormbeards at the time, designed it. Pity it ended up here.” Fiona smiled, even as the knights shifted uneasily in their seats. “But everyone knows life’s not fair, right?”

  The awkward silence was broken by Cicero clearing his throat. “Dessert will be served in the tapestry room in ten minutes,” he said.

  Jo hadn’t visited the tapestry room since the night she and Ian had found the secret door there. Some of the creepiness of that evening still lingered, and even now Jo felt weird sitting on the couch, watching the tapestry roll by. She clutched her bag, impatient to get back to reading her father’s message. But first she had to get through this evening. All the other knights and squires were there, listening to Fiona explain the stories on the tapestry.

  “The tapestry is supposed to tell the history of the world from many different perspectives,” said Fiona. “The Wormbeard artists crammed all the available legends of Eldritch City into it. Most of these legends contradict each other, but the artists thought it best to put them all in, instead of settling on just one. That’s why the tapestry is so many miles long.”

  Nora raised her hand. “But doesn’t the tapestry have the birth of the Ichthala on it? That happened only thirteen years ago.”

  “That’s what makes the tapestry special,” said Fiona. “It’s woven out of a rare moss that grows to make pictures of whatever you say to it. The original artists spent years telling the moss the legends of Eldritch City in great detail, and let the moss grow to describe those scenes.”

  Dame Myra piped up. “And I read the newspaper to the tapestry every morning, to keep its pictures up to date.”

  “Thank you, Dame Myra,” said Fiona, bowing. “I’m relieved to find our tapestry is under responsible stewardship. So the tapestry has dozens of interwoven stories of how the world began, and how it might end, and all the things that happen in between. Let’s see…what we’re looking at right now is the beginning of the universe.”

  “Looks weird.” Maurice pointed up at the tapestry. “What’s that supposed to be? Over there.”

  “That?” Fiona gazed up. “That’s the origin story of the All-Devouring Mother.”

  As always when the All-Devouring Mother was mentioned, the atmosphere in the room became awkward—as if they were talking about something best left unspoken. Jo felt her heart lock up in panic. She tightened her grip on her bag and glanced
at Nora. Behind her tangled hair, Nora’s huge eyes had lit up, and she had already taken out her notebook.

  Finally, Sir Festus coughed. “Ah…not all the squires know this particular legend of the All-Devouring Mother. Could you explain it to them, Miss Fuorlini?”

  Fiona nodded. “Certainly, Sir Festus. Although this is just one legend about the All-Devouring Mother—there are many others, and nobody knows which is true. It starts over here, to the right, before time even exists. Nothing exists but one goddess, the All-Loving Mother.”

  Albert broke in. “I thought it was called the All-Devouring Mother.”

  “I’m getting to that,” said Fiona smoothly. “Now, the All-Loving Mother’s substance is nothingness, but she contains all possible things within her—a god for every potential thing in the universe. All one hundred forty-four thousand four hundred forty-three of these gods live inside the All-Loving Mother’s stomach, unborn but fully conscious. See them? There, there, and there—they’re very tiny.”

  Jo watched Fiona point out the tiny gods inside the All-Loving Mother. Despite herself, Jo was impressed by Fiona. She patiently put up with Sir Festus’s constant questioning, and it seemed she actually knew what she was talking about. Jo hoped she was as poised for her visit to the Wormbeards’ lodge.

  Fiona continued: “The problem was, these gods are bored living inside the All-Loving Mother. They want to escape and fully grow into themselves. But the All-Loving Mother won’t let them out. So for a long time, the universe is nothing but void as the gods stew restlessly, cramped and packed inside the All-Loving Mother’s stomach.”

  Fiona paused as the tapestry rolled past. A new scene appeared, and Fiona waved her hands around the scene, explaining it: “In this scene, the gods ask the All-Loving Mother to open her mouth and let them out. But the All-Loving Mother refuses. She loves them so much that she wants to keep them forever safe, perfectly quiet, and eternally at home in her belly.

  “So the gods decide to trick her. The cleverest of all the gods, Aznath, the Silver Kitten of Deceit, tells the All-Loving Mother some of the gods have already escaped from her and that they want to return, and that she has to open her mouth to let them back in. But as soon as the All-Loving Mother opens her mouth—this illustration here—Aznath squeezes the All-Loving Mother’s stomach and makes her vomit out all the other gods. I think this part is particularly well done. Look there, in the center.”

  The All-Loving Mother was spewing thousands of gods into the black nothingness of space. A silver kitten sat alongside, grinning maliciously.

  Phil snickered. “So in your legend, the universe began because a god barfed?”

  Fiona just stared at him. The room was silent except for the drumming of rain on the roof.

  “It’s not a dignified way for a universe to begin, but that’s the legend,” said Fiona finally. “Now, in this next scene, all the gods are fleeing from the All-Loving Mother. As you can see, she’s furious at being tricked, and has changed from a loving goddess to a vengeful monster. Now she is the All-Devouring Mother, and she will not rest until she gobbles up all the gods and brings them safely home again, inside her belly.”

  The All-Devouring Mother was indeed a terrifying vision. All of the maternal features of the All-Loving Mother had twisted in on themselves, into a ravenous beast that flew in a thousand directions at once, straining to swallow up the other gods. Jo stared at the All-Devouring Mother. It didn’t make sense—how could she have anything in common with that?

  Fiona said, “Here’s the conclusion of the legend. The other one hundred forty-four thousand four hundred forty-three gods know they can’t run away from their hungry mother forever. So they all surround the All-Devouring Mother and cut her into one hundred forty-four thousand four hundred forty-three pieces—a piece for every god. Each god hides their piece of the All-Devouring Mother in a different secret place, so that the All-Devouring Mother can never be reassembled. And thus the soul of the All-Devouring Mother wanders the universe in torment, searching for the pieces of herself so she can put herself back together. But this must never happen, for if she does, she will devour the gods again, and gobble up our universe. And then everything will again be nothingness.”

  The artists had illustrated what it would look like if the All-Devouring Mother regained her body. It was a grisly scene of the skies being torn open like paper, of galaxies crashing into each other and melting into the All-Devouring Mother’s hands, of entire worlds being sucked into the All-Devouring Mother’s laughing, bloody mouth.

  “If I remember correctly, the tapestry continues into another story,” said Fiona. “In a minute, it’ll unwind to the scene where the Silent Sisters first appear. It was thousands of years ago, so the history is cloudy. But the theology of the Silent Sisters is simple. They believe that all the conflict and pain in the universe comes from having left the All-Loving Mother’s care. They want to bring back the All-Devouring Mother, let her eat up the universe, and bring everything back home inside her again. According to the Silent Sisters, the All-Devouring Mother will then again be the All-Loving Mother, with everything safely, quietly, and harmoniously contained within her once more.”

  Nora was perched on the edge of her seat, listening closely, pencil in hand, her breath held lest she miss a single word. “And how,” she said, “how do the Silent Sisters plan to help her?”

  Fiona said, “The Silent Sisters believe that if they reassemble the All-Devouring Mother’s body, the All-Devouring Mother will reincarnate herself in human form. The Silent Sisters choose a woman from their own ranks to give birth to the reincarnated All-Devouring Mother and transfer the soul to the monster they rebuilt. Unfortunately for Evelyn Hazelwood, the Silent Sisters chose—Hey! What’s that?”

  Jo cringed. The hole in the tapestry had rolled into view.

  Fiona watched it with mounting rage. “Who put a hole in the tapestry? Do you know what used to be here? It’s the oldest image of the Silent Sisters! Who tore it out?”

  Sir Festus coughed with some embarrassment. “I assure you, we did not. It was only after Sir Oliver got the lodge back that we found this tear.”

  Fiona had maintained a cool composure all night, but now she lost it. “Nobody can trust you Odd-Fish,” she said. “In good faith the Wormbeards made you a gift of the most tremendous work of art we’d ever done, and this is how you Odd-Fish treat it?”

  “We didn’t do it!” said Ian. “The Belgian Prankster must have!”

  “May I remind you that the Belgian Prankster’s original name was Sir Nils Van der Woort?” said Fiona. “And Sir Nils was a knight of the Odd-Fish.”

  “But why would the Belgian Prankster tear out a picture of the Silent Sisters?” said Daphne.

  “Why does the Belgian Prankster do anything?” said Dame Delia. “He’s in league with the Silent Sisters and is trying to destroy the universe. He is committed to madness. Hardly anything he, or they, do could make much sense to us.”

  “By cracky, I can’t take it anymore,” said Sir Festus suddenly. “All these secrets and plots and skullduggery…we are knights! The Silent Sisters lurk among us in Eldritch City, the Belgian Prankster is looming abroad, and there’s nothing we can do? Look at me—I’m not young anymore. I’ve waited all my life for a proper war. I’m getting fat, I’m getting slow—it’s not befitting a knight! I’m not meant to die of old age, but in the glory of battle! Still, year after year goes by, and no fight! Why can’t the Silent Sisters show themselves for an honorable combat? Why must the Belgian Prankster always skulk and strike from afar? These invisible enemies are driving me mad. Give me something I can see—give me something I can do!”

  “I think you’ve all done quite enough,” said Fiona loudly.

  Everyone’s attention turned to her.

  “What do you mean?” said Jo.

  Fiona said, “I mean, Jo, that most of the trouble in Eldritch City actually comes from the Order of Odd-Fish. Sir Nils used to be an Odd-Fish; now he’s the Belgia
n Prankster, working for the Silent Sisters. He stole the Odd-Fish lodge last year, and now it’s back—but who knows what infections the Belgian Prankster hid in this building that are now spreading around the city as we speak? Not to mention that the Odd-Fish built the Inconvenience, a very dangerous device, and then blundered into letting the Belgian Prankster gain control of it. Last but not least, there’s Martin and Evelyn Hazelwood, the most irresponsible of all—bringing into the world a baby that should have been strangled in the womb. I can come to only one conclusion: the Order of Odd-Fish, whether by treachery or by stupidity, is the Silent Sisters’ greatest ally in Eldritch City. That’s all I have to say. Now. Where do I sleep?”

  All the Odd-Fish erupted in loud outrage, but no matter how loudly they blustered, accused, and protested, Fiona sat with her arms crossed and ignored them.

  Jo was furious. But she was all the more furious because there was no retort she could make. Everything Fiona had said was perfectly true.

  The Odd-Fish dispersed to bed. The butlers helped the knights and squires of the Odd-Fish to their rooms, and Fiona was curtly shown to the guest quarters. Jo stalked out of the tapestry room before anyone, not bothering to say good night to Fiona, or to Ian or Nora, for that matter. She went back to her room and slammed the door.

  And remembered the message from her father.

  In her bag.

  She had left her bag in the tapestry room!

  Jo threw open her door and ran downstairs in a panic. How could she have been so stupid? She sprinted down the dark passageways, popped open the trapdoor, clambered up—and went weak with relief. Her bag was sitting where she had left it.