The Embroidered Serpent

by M. Woodruff

  “Then you must not have much of a job,” Nels said with a shrug.

  “I assure you Mister Hunter, I find plenty to keep myself busy, which is more than can be said for many around here. But you will see…oh yes, you…will…see,” he said, pointing at Nels, punctuating his words. Then Sulla burst into laughter at some private joke. The man was obviously mad, Nels thought.

  “I also am a highly sought after designer of men’s hosen. Perhaps I might interest you in a pair,” Sulla said looking at Nels’ pants as if he could see the shape of his legs through the brown leather.

  “Uh, probably not. I—“

  Sulla didn’t let him finish before waving his hand in dismissal. “I didn’t think so. Those who would benefit the most are the ones that usually refuse help. No matter. We must be off.”

  As both men stood, Sulla eyed Nels up and down. “Yes, we’ll definitely be taking a carriage as much is possible.”

  They met the white and gold carriage at the front of the palace. The driver was obviously a palace man, dressed in the same red satin suit as Anon had been—Nels wondered if the man would be listening to music as he drove the team of white horses throughout Silver Persia. Nels knew he would be—it would certainly make a rather boring job more entertaining.

  He slid onto the blue velvet bench with Sulla coming in behind to sit directly across from him. When the old man realized his legs were too long to sit comfortably without bumping knees, he spread his legs out instead of moving over respectfully. Nels had the distinct impression he was now trapped between an overgrown spider’s hairy legs and felt his gorge rise. At least the handkerchief had disappeared.

  The carriage lurched forward causing Sulla to mumble under his breath. “It would be Bulit driving today. He tends to be heavy-handed with the horses, getting them to gallop then saying they were only slowly trotting, but I know better. See if he can fool me. Ehhh.” He rapped on the closed window behind him, yelling, “Keep it slow, you toad brain!”

  Nels leaned back in his seat and closed his eyes trying to find a peaceful place he could retreat to. None being readily available he looked out of the window and saw flying carriages coming up from the valley below. They weren’t being pulled by horses, but their wheels were still turning as if the ground was beneath them as they continued their mid-air climb.

  “Those carriages are flying,” Nels said to Sulla.

  “Hm? Oh yes, we have air carriages. Good for people who do a lot of vertical traveling and don’t want to have to traverse mountainous roads.”

  “I imagine so,” Nels responded, wondering if The Kingdom would ever have such ease of maneuverability. He doubted it. The King was just now implementing cement roadways over a very small portion of the land. He could never imagine a time of flight for its citizens.

  After what seemed hours of negotiating stone streets that angled steadily upwards, passing beautiful stores and homes made from gemstones that shone brilliantly in the morning sun, they arrived at a large compound in the middle of pastureland. The buildings were all made from black and red zircons that looked to have been pushed up by the land itself.

  A large man dressed to match the homestead greeted them heartily. “Ah, Jasper! Oh, pardon me...Sulla.” The man gave a flourishing bow and Nels saw that underneath his red velvet coat he, too, had on black hose, albeit studded with garnets.

  “Lam, it is good to see you. Those hose do your legs justice,” Sulla said, letting Nels know he was the designer of the man’s leg wear.

  “Aye, ‘tis a treat to wear, at that.” Lam smiled showing silver-studded teeth. At least Nels thought there were still white teeth under the metal points affixed to each one.

  “Lam, this is Nels Hunter, a guest of Grayson’s. I am showing him the various sights of our fair land. I thought we might start here at…your home.”

  “Of course,” Lam said, looking a bit disconcerted at the thought of his house being on a tour of Silver Persia. “And welcome, Nels. It is a pleasure to receive visitors.” His voice spoke, but his eyes said different. “What would you like to see, Sulla?”

  “Oh, just the grounds. We do not wish to intrude on your home unannounced.”

  Lam nodded, seemingly happier now that the tour would only include the outside. “Well, follow me, gentlemen.” The sunlight highlighted the back of Lam’s head revealing that he sprinkled his black hair with silver glitter.

  All of a sudden, Nels heard a loud noise that sounded like a door banging almost off its hinges. Lam jumped then turned to face the house. Out from the backdoor came pouring hundreds of black rats.

  Sulla shrieked and so did Nels.

  “Oh, my babies…my babies,” Lam began lamenting as he squatted down to let the rodents engulf him.

  Nels was on the verge of running when one of the rats ran up to him and started barking. Perplexed, he bent down. It wasn’t a rat at all—it was a tiny dog. If the dog had been larger than three inches tall, it would have been a monster. It’s thick black frame bespoke of solid muscle. The dog’s eyes seemed to be made from fire—complete with flickering flames. And it took after its master with silver-pointed fangs gleaming in its snarling muzzle. Nels wanted to laugh at such a small dog, but its ferocious mien made him a bit wary, all the same.

  “What is this?! What is this?!” Sulla began shrieking, followed by “Shoo! Shoo!” as he tried to wave multiple dogs away with his handkerchief.

  “Gentleman, my sincerest apologies,” Lam said, regaining his composure. “How they managed to escape I have no idea.” He shot a furious glare at the house as more dogs kept running out. Nels thought he even saw some peeking out of the windows. “They are perfectly harmless, I assure you. Their size can attest to that.”

  “Well, this one is harming my hose, I assure you!” Sulla fumed while shaking a dog off of his leg.

  “A new pair of hose for you then, my good Sulla. Heel! Heel, doggie! They are just overly excited today. They are not used to guests during the daylight hours. They know how to behave during our dinners. They must mind their manners or they do not get to clean up the coal and meat scraps.”

  “Coal?” Nels asked, debating whether to try petting the one still staring at him. He thought it was still growling, so probably best not to try.

  “Yes, my doggies eat the fire—coals, ash, and all—once the dinner is over. The table scraps tide them over until then. But, it is the fire they find the most delectable. My wife finds them a boon, no more cleaning up. Of course, she thinks there are too many, and I must agree, but then again…I do love them so.”

  “Uh, how did you come by so many?” Nels asked.

  “Well, you see—“ Lam said, clearing his throat. “We had a slight rat problem. I had always wanted a pet dog, so I used the Power to turn a few rats into my ideal dog—on a smaller scale, of course. And then, after that they just kept multiplying. I had nothing to do with that, though,” Lam added hurriedly. “I just meant to have a handful. But now, I can’t get rid of them—so, we must make do, as we can.” His face suddenly lit up. “Now, if you would like to take a couple for yourselves, good sirs, they make great pets, I can assure you.”

  “No!” Both Nels and Sulla hurriedly replied.

  When they arrived in the backyard, Nels saw a covered bloodstone pavilion complete with large groupings of tables and chairs made from the same stone. “This is where Lam’s friends have their dinner parties,” Sulla replied to Nels’ unspoken question.

  In the center of the pavilion, Nels saw as they entered, a large bloodstone spit. The stone underneath had been swept clean, so all that remained was a blackening that could be natural from the stone or from the enormous fire that must rage to heat such a large spit. He smiled at Lam. “I see now why you used bloodstone. It suits perfectly.”

  Lam smiled back at the acknowledgement. “Aye, that it does. But I can’t take the credit. My wife, she’s the one that thought of it. Tired of blood and fire stains, she was. Said she was going to do something about it, and she did
. Now she can enjoy dinner as much as the rest of us.”

  “They kill animals and roast the meat to eat, Mister Hunter,” Sulla said, eyeing Nels seemingly hoping for a certain reaction.

  “I gathered that, Mister DuBlec,” Nels replied drily.

  Sulla pursed his lips in frustration. “I see you don’t understand. Most in Silver Persia do not eat animal flesh. We prefer fruits, breads, pastries, occasionally vegetables, and usually dairy. What about you? What do you prefer?”

  Nels let out a sigh. “I prefer all of the above, including meat.”

  Sulla narrowed his eyes as Lam responded jovially, “Ah! A man after my own heart. You will have to join us for dinner one night, Nels. If you have a craving for meat, Sulla speaks the truth, here’s the only place you’ll find it. We have a big time of it, too.”

  “Yes, yes. He’ll be sure to join you. We really must be going. Come along, Nels,” Sulla said rudely, as he stomped away to the carriage leaving Nels shocked at the old man’s hostile departure. But, he felt a moment of satisfaction when Sulla took off running as a herd of miniature dogs gave chase.

  “Aye, don’t worry about him,” Lam said, clapping Nels on the back. “Not really sure why he brought you up here, though, since we make him so mad. He even tried to have the Jouel put a stop to our dinners, but she wouldn’t hear of it. He quieted down after that, but still…I don’t know why he brought you up here. Oh, he’s happy enough to get my business for his hosen, but doesn’t hold much truck with any of us apart from that. Glad he did bring you up here, though. You really must come and meet my wife and sit at table with us. We always eat at first dark.”

  “If I have chance, Lam, I’d love to join you,” Nels told the large man as he started walking back to the carriage. Wondering the same thing, why had Grayson wanted him to come up here? Surely she knew everyone in The Kingdom ate meat, so he wouldn’t be offended by the practice. Did she think Lam might be in league with the Darkness? He certainly couldn’t see any sign of it.

  Taking a deep breath he got back into the carriage with Sulla. Now, at least, he could position himself appropriately next to the window thereby avoiding the Master of the Jewels’ knobby knees.

  Deciding the direct approach was best in this situation, he asked Sulla, “Why did Grayson want me meet Lam?”

  Sulla snorted. “I have no idea. I put him first on the agenda just to get it over with. I do believe my clothes smell of rot, now. Really Nels, Grayson doesn’t eat meat, I don’t see how anyone could. Even you.” He took his handkerchief out and fluttered it in front of his face. That didn’t seem to help any, so he pulled out a sachet of what Nels thought must be fresh pinesap. He was surprised he couldn’t smell the old man a league away if he carried that in his breast pocket. But Sulla evidently had a nose gone sour from the ages because he held the sachet directly to his nostrils and took several deep sniffs. “Pfah! I still smell it,” he said disgustedly and put the pinesap back in his pocket.

  Rapping on the closed window, Sulla shouted, “Driver! To Madam Arafael’s. Slow, mind you!”

  The carriage took off with a jerk that had Sulla sputtering obscenities at the driver with spittle flying everywhere. Nels moved closer to the window as the old man pulled out a small mirror and began wiping his lips and face with his hankie. Next, he pulled out a pot of rouge and began reapplying the round circles on his cheeks then added it to his non-existent lips in a parody of a young maid’s lush, full lips in the bloom of youth. Pulling out a stoppered bottle of red glitter, the Master of Jewels dumped the entire contents over his head in a shimmering waterfall of blood. Nels couldn’t help but think it hilarious, as Lam’s dinner goings-on were still fresh in his mind.

  Primping his hair a bit in the mirror after wiping the excess glitter from his jacket, the old man then pulled out another vial—Nels wondered how many pockets this guy could possibly have and why didn’t he clank while he walked—and dumped the liquid contents in his palm. Nels immediately smelt a strong musky dandelion odor that made him wrinkle his nose and wish the carriage window could be opened. Sulla smeared the oily liquid on his neck, wrists, and hands before smiling contentedly announcing his ablutions were complete and just in time. They had arrived.

  The Madam Arafael’s home was located in a picturesque neighborhood built on a plateau that was sheltered by surrounding mountain peaks. The house itself was the largest in view, but even being made of pink morganite, it didn’t stand out against all the multitude of colors Nels espied as far as his eye could see. Green, blue, red, orange, and all the rest of the colors of the rainbow with hues he couldn’t even begin to describe, made up all of the houses dotting the mountainous landscape. The sun shining on their gemstone surfaces caused such a dazzling array of reflections, Nels felt he had actually stepped into the interior of a prism. Even the white stone street was a moving picture show of brightly dancing colors. The greenery even took on strange colors, causing the azalea bushes planted by the front walk to take on the appearance of spring when there were no blooms in sight.

  A young male servant dressed in a lavender jacket and hose stepped out to greet them. “Master of Jewels,” he said, bowing at the waist, “you are expected, sir.” He extended his arm to the open door before eyeing Nels dubiously, but said nothing further. For the first time, Nels really felt he was underdressed. And he hated that thought, immensely.

  Inside, the grand entry hall was decorated entirely in pastel designs that seemed to swoop from ceiling to floor. Even the chairs were upholstered in fabric that had the motion of soft rolling waves. The wall sconces were large pale-yellow leaves that flapped in a non-existent breeze.

  “Jasper!” a voice squealed from a distant room, followed by more delighted peals of excitement from various female voices.

  “Oh Jasper!” An elderly woman in the largest pink taffeta dress, with the highest pile of hair that Nels had ever seen leaned seductively against the doorframe. Her white-feathered fan fluttered excitedly below kohl-darkened eyes and eyebrows. “Oh! Pardon me…Sulla!” She looked back over her shoulder and purred, “Ladies, Sulla is here.” A murmured approval of whispers was the response.

  Madam Arafael undraped herself from the doorframe and sauntered her large girth—made that much larger by the apparent hoop she wore under her dress—over to allow Sulla to kiss her bejeweled hand. “Oooh, and you’ve brought a friend,” she cooed, eyeing Nels up and down before licking her pink-frosted lips.

  “A friend,” Sulla harrumphed, “yes, allow me to introduce you. Madam Arafael this is Nels Hunter. He is a guest of the Jouel.”

  “That Grayson always did have delightful taste in friends,” Madam Arafael said while extending her pudgy hand for Nels to kiss.

  Nels kissed the madam’s hand, murmuring, “Thank you, Madam. The pleasure is surely mine.” Nels lifted his head back up licking his lips tasting the acrid floral dusting powder Arafael must have dredged her hands in. A quick look at Sulla’s white-caked mouth confirmed his suspicions. Well, there was nothing he could do about it now without offending the lady.

  “Please, call me Fae. All of my friends do, of whom you now must meet. Come with me gentlemen.”

  Nels and Sulla followed Madam Arafael into the large drawing room crowded with numerous ladies of advanced years dressed in such overly-large dresses, Nels realized there was barely room to maneuver.

  “Ladies, may I present to you our Master of Jewels, Sulla, which you all know, of course.” Sulla’s arrival was met with coy waves, much fan fluttering, and murmured terms of endearments. “And the Jouel’s own guest, Nels Hunter.” His announcement was met much in the same way except for more lip licking, bosom clutching, and ankle revealing. One cheeky lady even let out a whistle, which emboldened a few others to give low catcalls behind their feathered fans.

  Nels gave the ladies a polite bow while Sulla cleared his throat and intoned, “My fair ladies, I bid you all welcome. The beauty before me now is lovelier than the crystal-blue sky, the most delicate of
flowers, the grandeur of the finest diamond—“

  “Yes, thank you, Sulla,” Madam Arafael interrupted. “Please have a seat, both of you. I will have refreshments served. Ladies, make room for our distinguished gentlemen…if you will,” she finished with a snort of laughter.

  Nels hesitated a moment before fully entering the room as Sulla barged ahead, straight to a lady with a wig the same color as his but a good two feet taller in height.

  “Come sit by me, doll,” a deep, throaty voice called out from the corner to his left. “There’s plenty of room.”

  Nels turned to see a woman so thin she seemed lost in her purple taffeta dress, patting the seat beside her. Her long deep amethyst nails glittering sharply against the pale yellow of the small loveseat.

  Nels gulped. “I would be honored,” he said politely over a few hushed hisses from the remaining downcast women, as he sat, mostly on the lady’s dress.

  The elderly lady smiled with too-perfect teeth, her wrinkly skin creaking and cracking as if it were dry, old leather. She reached out with a hand that was unnaturally tan and laid it on his cheek, feeling his several-day-old stubble. “Too many smooth faces around here for my tastes.” She cackled, as she fondled Nels’ earlobe and he shivered, looking around for some sort of rescue, even Sulla. He should have known better—spiders always lurk in darkened corners.

  “My name is Madam Irgot, but you may call me Bunny, like the cute little rabbits that hop around.” She twitched her nose at him, giggling like a little girl. “I even keep one in my hair, see?” She pulled layers of her purple-coiffed hair apart to reveal a pearl rabbit, seemingly sleeping in a nest. “I call him Ferdinand. He’s my totem. Do you know what that is, Nels? A totem?” she asked, leaning in closer so he could smell her rancidly sweet breath.

  “No…ah…I,” Nels stammered, trying to still his face so his repulsion wouldn’t show.

  “Oh, I think you do,” Madam Irgot said, her dark eyes suddenly taking on a vicious cast. “I think you know exactly what it means when a person has an allegiance with a certain animal—a certain kinship, you might say. When that person owes that animal everything and then callously tries to escape from his own savior, by committing the act of murder. When all the poor animal wanted was that person’s happiness, as was its wont. Not a very nice thing to do, Nels. Not very nice at all. Some of us don’t take very kindly to the mistreatment of others, especially of our animal friends. Some of us might even be tempted to exact our own form of revenge for his transgression, and some of us are painfully skilled in certain creative arts. You’d be wise to remember that, doll.”