by J. M. Lee
She did not rise when they entered. Instead, Kylan knelt before her, and Naia followed.
“This is Naia, of the Drenchen of Sog, and Kylan, of the Spriton,” their guide said. “Naia, Kylan. This is Maudra Argot, the Shadow Bender.”
“An honor to meet you, Maudra,” Kylan said, taking the lead. Naia had gotten them here with boldness, but the old maudra’s chamber begged a softer talk.
“An honor,” Naia agreed.
When she spoke, Maudra Argot’s voice was old and deep.
“It must be important, indeed, for daylighters to bother making the journey into the so-feared Grot. Amri here tells me you have a Vapra with you as well. Has the great Mayrin finally invited us to the Silverling capital? Ho ho hoo! Don’t answer that. I know it is not true. So tell me, children, why do you stray from the daylight?”
Their journey into the caves had been so quiet under the watch of the Grottan in the main cavern, the sound of the old woman’s laugh was a welcome relief. Amri, their guide, leaned against the wall behind them, hands clasped loosely at his hip.
“We’re looking for a firca,” Naia said. “One made of a special bone. Kylan?”
Kylan cleared his throat, hoping to sound as reasonable as possible in case the firca was nothing but a daydream. He was ready for Maudra Argot to laugh in his face and tell him the thing had never really existed, but at least then they’d know.
“It’s the firca made by Gyr the Song Teller during the Golden Age. I read in a book that it was entrusted to the Grottan and kept here, in . . . in Domrak.”
Maudra Argot thumbed the whiskers on her chin in thought and took a long time before she answered. Too long, Kylan thought, and prepared himself for the worst, before the maudra coughed and snapped her fingers.
“Oh yes! That. What do you want with Gyr’s bone firca?”
“You have it here?” Kylan cried, forgetting all formality. “It’s real?”
“Of course it’s real. How else did you think all that dream-etching got on the walls? All of us can read here, of course, but it would have taken a whole ninet to do just half the caves the regular way. We don’t have time for that. Yes, yes, the firca is real. It is in the Tomb. Ho ho! But I’m not going to just hand it over to you younglings without an explanation first. Why do you need it? What will you do with it? And so on.”
An explanation would mean revealing what they knew about the Skeksis. What if Maudra Argot was loyal to the lords? They were so deep in the mountains, there was no way they’d escape, not if the Grottan decided to take them prisoner to hand over to the Skeksis. He didn’t want to think that way, but it was what had already happened when the All-Maudra had sent Tavra after Gurjin and Rian the first time. Maudra Mera would likely not hesitate to do the same, and of course, Maudra Fara had been quick to get them out of Stone-in-the-Wood, even if she didn’t turn them over directly to the Skeksis. They had no idea where the Grottan maudra fell on the line of allegiance, and there wasn’t time to find out.
Kylan frowned. The best way to show Maudra Argot why they needed the firca was in dreamfast, but it had to be from Naia, who had seen the Crystal herself. Kylan’s memories of what Naia had told him would not suffice. She would have to make that decision herself . . . and she did, offering her hand.
“Then dreamfast with me. I will show you what I’ve seen. You can decide whether it’s an explanation or not.”
“So you think I’ll trust your memories, no matter what they are?” Maudra Argot asked, tilting her head in the other direction. When she got a confused, uncomfortable silence in reply, she cackled again. “Ho! Don’t answer that, either. I am not afraid of your dreams, little Drenchen. Show me, and we will see where they lead us.”
Maudra Argot lifted her hand but did not take Naia’s. It was only then that Kylan realized the maudra was blind. Naia caught on quietly and made the connection, grasping the old Gelfling’s steady, tiny hand. Kylan watched as the two closed their eyes in unison, going still as the dreamfast began. He waited for any sign of distress from his friend, but it seemed her time with Gurjin had calmed her heart and mind, and she shared her memories with Maudra Argot in a calm communion.
Memories spoke faster than words. The dreamfast ended soon, but Kylan could tell from how Maudra Argot leaned back, putting her hands on her knees, that Naia had shared everything. The maudra let out a long grave hmmmm.
“You have the gift of dreamfast, that is for certain,” she said. “Never have I seen dreams so vividly . . . It was almost as if I had my eyes back! Ho ho hoo! What a delight you are, my Drenchen daughter.”
For Amri’s benefit, Naia said the rest aloud.
“Kylan read about the firca in a book he received from Aughra. We promised we would find a way to warn all the Gelfling.”
The old Gelfling tapped her chin, blind eyes pointed at the ceiling.
“The Stonewood will be first, until the forest is empty of their tales and noisy dances. Then the Spriton to the south. Perhaps they will go west next, to the Crystal Sea—perhaps north, to take the capital itself. It is only a matter of time before they come for us, I suppose, even if we are the discarded relish on the banquet tray. Ho ho hoo!”
She described an ugly future, but her chuckle was so light, it was almost the giggle of a youngling.
“Nothing but a garnish on top of a Vapra delicacy!” Amri added. The comment sent the old maudra into a new fit, her little body shaking with laughter. Kylan shifted uncomfortably and felt Naia do the same. It was a serious situation, but he had spent so much energy worrying—maybe there was nothing else to do but laugh. Then he thought of the Skeksis raiding his Sami Thicket, and knew he was not ready to laugh yet, even if it was out of desperation. Maybe this was wrong. Maybe the Grottan didn’t care for the other clans at all—even if they did believe that the Skeksis had betrayed them.
“Ho ho ho hooo! Oh, don’t sound so quiet. We’re not making light of the situation. This old maudra has heard many trine come and go. Just when I think I’ve heard it all, the Skeksis surprise me with something new and cruel. I can’t help but think Thra is telling a wicked song-for-laughs . . . Or maybe it is me who is old and mad and laughing when there are no jokes being told.”
Naia kept her hands on her knees, pausing before she spoke. It seemed she didn’t know how to react to the maudra either. Following the Drenchen path, she simply said, “Please let us take the firca to send the warning. I think it’s most important that all the Gelfling come together against the Skeksis. We won’t be able to do anything if we’re at odds with one another.”
“We Grottan have remained out of the affairs of the daylighters; ours was a different burden to bear, here in Domrak. But you are right. The Skeksis will never want the essence of an old maudra like me, but my children . . . even the lazy ones like Amri. We are all Gelfling. I’ll give you the firca. I’ll even give you Amri. He will show you to the Tomb of Relics and then go with you to Ha’rar on behalf of our oft-forgotten clan.”
For the first time, Amri’s voice sounded juvenile, more Kylan and Naia’s age, when he protested.
“Wait! That’s not fair. I don’t want to be surrounded by snooty Silverlings! Maybe if they were going south . . .”
Maudra Argot had already made up her mind. She waved her hand, as if shooing gnats from a piece of fruit.
“I’ll have no more of your disruptive experiments and the smelly ingredients you use for them. I know you sneak out of the caves to gather the stuff, so consider this an extended trip. Take your maudra’s offer, and come back when you are grown.”
Then she turned away from them, picking up a pile of cloth-weaving in progress beside her. The clicking of the weaving sticks was the signal for them to leave, so Kylan and Naia rose and bowed. As they followed a red-cheeked Amri back through the vines to the tunnel, they could hear the maudra talking to herself.
“Damned Skeksis. Your time
has come, at long last. Ho ho hoo . . .”
CHAPTER 16
“You don’t have to come with us if you don’t want to,” Naia said as they returned to the main tunnel.
Amri held a finger to his lips with one hand, gesturing over his shoulder with the other, indicating the maudra’s chamber.
“Shh. She can still hear us.”
Kylan scanned the tunnel for Tavra, who clearly had no desire to stand alone in the cold dark. He hoped she had not found trouble. Naia didn’t seem to be worried, so he let it go, too. The Silverling was well equipped to fend for herself if need be. He just hoped she wouldn’t cause any problems . . . especially as the Grottan maudra had agreed to help them.
They walked in silence until the tunnel opened again into the central cavern, and Kylan took a breath of air. The caves were less frightening now that they’d met with the maudra, but they were still caves, underground, in the dark. He wanted nothing more than to escape out the top of the cavern and find an open green field to lie in, but saying so would be rude, and they had a firca to find.
“You really don’t have to come,” Naia repeated.
“It’s not that I don’t want to leave,” Amri replied. “I would just rather go anywhere else than Ha’rar. Eh! I suppose I should be pleased that Maudra Argot is letting me leave the cave at all. Oh well, at least I might have a chance to surprise the All-Maudra. Oh, I can’t wait to see the look on her face when a Grottan appears in court!”
The burst of youthful energy surprised Kylan. Now that Amri had been released from his guard duty, he was shaking the seriousness off like a fizzgig that had come in out of the rain.
“Speaking of Silverlings. Where is your silver friend?”
Naia shrugged. “Maybe she left for Ha’rar. It’s something that she has been wanting to do very much.”
“Hm,” Amri said. “It may not be good for her to be wandering around. Many of our people have never seen daylighters before, and if they have any opinions about the Vapra, they are bad ones. We should find her. I know a place to look.”
He started farther up the cavern’s perimeter walkway, and they followed. Music drifted down from above, slow and harmonic, from wind instruments Kylan couldn’t identify. He kept an eye out for Tavra, but she was nowhere to be found. Maybe Naia was right, and she’d finally given up on her wards and left to pursue Rian and Ha’rar herself. Kylan felt bittersweet imagining that she might have. On the one hand, it might be a relief to be free of her relentlessly negative attitude. On the other, though, he realized he would miss her if she were gone, and worry about her suffering alone from her ordeal at the castle.
Amri guided them upward until the stairway ended at a round half chamber carved in the dream-etching-covered wall, with a fire pit dug directly into the stone floor. Three Grottan Gelfling knelt by the fire, each with a different-size reed instrument. The pipes produced the same sounds, but in different keys, and the result was a lovely adagio that warmed the otherwise dreary chamber. When they arrived, the musicians paused. They locked their black eyes on Kylan and Naia, but when they saw Amri was with them, they relaxed.
Tavra was not at the hearth. From the ledge of the chamber they could see most of the interior of the cavern. Kylan stood near the edge and scanned the walkways and stairs for her silver cloak, but saw nothing.
“Aside from the writing, this reminds me of Great Smerth, back home,” Naia said, her searching relaxed as if she might prefer they didn’t find Tavra at all. Amri stood by, the least interested in looking, his focus entirely on Naia.
“I’ve heard of the Drenchen mother-tree,” he exclaimed. “Is it true it’s as old and wise as Olyeka-Staba?”
Naia lit up at the chance to talk about her homeland.
“All our people can fit inside,” she said. “And its heartwood echoes with the sound of music and birds during the spring festival . . . Great Smerth is old and wise. I’m not sure any tree is like the Cradle-Tree.”
“In that case, I would like to visit both. Can you arrange this?”
Naia laughed, just a little brighter than usual.
They gazed down upon the cavern for long enough to know that if Tavra was walking one of the passes, she did not want to be seen. There was no sign of the Silverling anywhere. Kylan wondered where she could have gone in such a short time. Then again, he didn’t know how far the caves went, or how easy they were to traverse.
“Do you all live near this cavern, or do the Grottan occupy the whole under-mountain?”
Amri tilted his head, much like Maudra Argot had.
“You daylighters really don’t know much, do you?” he asked, but the question was more amused than critical. “We’re a bitty people. There are thirty-seven of us, so yes, we all live near the grand chamber.”
“Thirty-seven,” Naia said. “At least it must be easy to hold village meetings!”
Amri laughed, a sound that was almost comedic in itself, such a bubbling, goofy noise coming out of what Kylan had originally seen as a serious, frightening creature.
“Yes! We shout into the heart of the cave, and the echoes take care of the rest. No need for gatherings when you can holler. That’s what Maudra Argot says. Ahh . . . I can’t imagine what it must be like to be Vapra or even Sifa, with so many Gelfling to call kin. I couldn’t remember all their names. I can barely remember the names of my own cousins.”
“I’m sure the All-Maudra doesn’t know the names of all under her wing,” Naia said. “We’ve been through Stone-in-the-Wood as well, a village of several hundred.”
“Stone-in-the-Wood!” Amri cried. “Oh, I envy you. I’ve heard the peach-berry is the sweetest in this world. Why can’t we go there instead of Ha’rar?”
The musicians stopped again when voices echoed in alarm. Down below, near the base of the cavern, a small group of Grottan Gelfling clustered around a silver-and-white-clad figure. The only thing Kylan could see from so far away was that the Vapra’s sword was out, shining as she brandished it at the Grottan.
“Tavra! What’s she doing now?”
Naia flicked her wings, but hesitated at leaping. She hadn’t actually begun gliding yet, and there were plenty of jagged, sharp spires and rocks waiting below. The three of them ran down the stairs as quickly as they could.
“Why get into a fight at a time like this?” Kylan panted.
“Who knows what’s going through her head these days!”
When they reached the landing where Tavra and the others were, Kylan could see that it was not a fight—or at least, it hadn’t started that way. In fact, it looked as though the Grottan were trying to help, though their words of concern were cut short by Tavra’s blade.
“Get back!” the Silverling shouted. “Back away from me, all of you!”
“Tavra!” Naia shouted as they shoved their way to the front. Tavra was bleeding from the neck, using the hand that was not wielding her blade to press a cloth against the wound. The Grottan backed away, holding their hands up in peace, some fleeing the situation altogether.
“Tavra, what’s going on?”
Tavra let Naia and Kylan near so they could check the wound. Amri remained with the other Grottan, easing them back and away from the angry Vapra’s sword.
“One of these damned Shadowlings attacked me in the tunnel!” Tavra hissed through clenched teeth. “Ambushed me in the dark with a knife and ran off before I could pay back the favor. Come and get it, cave crawlers! Try once more to cut a daughter of the All-Maudra!”
The whispering hush swelled. One of the All-Maudra’s daughters? It makes no difference. She is Vapra. Even worse!
“No one touched the sun-spot!” shouted one voice above the whispers, and Tavra’s grip quivered, as if so thirsty to draw Grottan blood, she could barely control herself. Still, she let Kylan pull the cloth back to see the wound—a sharp blade had cut her white neck, narrowly missing her cr
ystal earring. Blood barely flowed from the wound, and Tavra’s skin felt cold to the touch, but Kylan couldn’t worry about that now.
“Naia,” he said. “Can you heal her?”
“I think so, but she’ll need to calm down. Stop waving that sword around, for starters!”
Kylan reached out and put his hand on Tavra’s, easing it down. To his surprise, she responded, lowering the blade until the tip nearly touched the rocky platform where they stood. She didn’t let go of the hilt, but became still enough that Naia and Kylan were able to get her to sit.
“Can you leave us?” Kylan asked Amri and the other Grottan. “Please? We’ll find you soon and figure out what’s going on.”
When they were alone, Kylan repeated his words.
“What’s going on?”
“What’s going on is that they’ll murder me before we leave these caves,” Tavra growled. “These crypts will become my tomb.”
“Oh, stop it,” Naia said. “What were you doing in the tunnels, anyway?”
“Nothing. Did you get the firca?”
“Not exactly. The Grottan do have it, but it’s not here. They’re going to let us have it, to use it for our message. Amri is taking us to where it is. Then he’s coming with us, to Ha’rar.”
“Oh? My life is in danger and you’re still thinking of trusting them and staying in these caves?”
Naia held her hands out near the cut. Blue vliyaya light grew, as it had when she had healed Gurjin. The cut was but a flesh wound compared to the battery and starvation Gurjin had endured, and in a moment it was closed and no longer in danger of draining the Vapra of her blood on top of her already-drained life essence. Kylan remembered the chill he’d felt on Tavra’s skin . . . Perhaps she was doing far worse than she had been letting on. While Naia finished the healing, he gathered his courage.