by Jan Bozarth
The jungle cat padded to the ledge at the cave entrance. She dropped the spider leg over the edge, then, with a swift turn, butted her head against Imishi’s shoulder. She gave a soft growl and nudged the fairy toward the other side of the cave entrance. Though I felt no danger to myself from the jaguar, this alarmed me—until I heard Imishi gasp.
“Thank you!” Imishi knelt in the shadows for a minute, picking something up, and brought it back to show me.
She held out a cluster of delicate indigo flowers. “Shadeblossom,” she said. “Will you keep it in your bag for me? I want to give it to Queen Carmina.”
I tucked the flowers into my bag, and the jaguar rubbed her body against me. I patted her tawny back and pressed my cheek against her fur.
“Thank you,” I whispered. “I was afraid of you, you know. I still am, but I’m glad we met. You showed me how important it is to trust the map in my heart.”
Imishi put a hand on the huge cat’s back. “I judged you without knowing you, and for that I am sorry. You are a true friend.”
The rumbling reply that came from the jaguar’s throat sounded just like a purr.
At that moment, a commotion of flapping wings came from outside, and we all heard a familiar voice. “We’re here, we’re here!”
10
The Kib Valley
Kib Valley wasn’t anything like I had imagined. The fairies from Imishi’s tribe who rescued us put us into a woven sling like a hammock. Like Imishi, the fairies all wore dresses patterned like animals or birds. Although we had left the jaguar behind in the cave, I got the impression that as long as I remained in Aventurine, she would never be far away.
After the fairies set off for Kib Valley, Imishi’s first questions were about the fairy queen and the king of the horses, Kir’s father. The news from our fairy rescuers was not good.
From the hammock, I got an amazing view of the valley. To keep Imishi’s mind occupied, I asked her questions about everything I was seeing. My first impression of Kib was green—as far as the valley reached. It was the kind of lush, exuberant green I recognized from pictures of places like Hawaii, Belize, and Guatemala.
The valley floor was a broad bowl that Imishi told me had been an inland sea thousands of years ago. Over the ages, the sea had dried up, and eruptions and earthquakes had filled the valley with rich volcanic soil. The dirt and rocks of the valley were black. The far valley wall was flat, with strands of color sweeping through it. When the sunlight hit it, the entire wall sparkled, as if it were set with millions of tiny gems. Imishi explained that the rock wall had sheared away in an ancient earthquake to reveal the fossils and shells of creatures that had once inhabited the inland sea. Those shells were what glittered in the rock wall.
Imishi gave me an anxious look. “Breathe.”
I realized I had been holding my breath, and I let it out in a smile and a sigh. I hadn’t noticed the buildings at first, but now I did. They reminded me of photos I had seen of the city of Tikal in Guatemala. A newer image appeared in my mind as well: the layout of the fairy city was identical to the map of ruined Ool-Kib on the observatory wall in the jaguar’s jungle!
Below us were Mayan-style pyramids, flat courtyards, a spectacular spiral amphitheater that reminded me of a nautilus shell, pools and fountains, tiers of hanging gardens, and an observatory. On the hillsides, terraces of planted crops were dotted with ornate storage buildings. All of these things were made from a combination of stone, shell, and living plants that blended together in a magnificent mosaic on a background of green. It all looked so … natural.
“We’re almost there.” Imishi pointed below us.
Coming down the slope into the valley was Kir with Monty on his back. From far up the valley in the other direction, a herd of golden horses galloped toward the buildings at the center, where their sick king waited. The fairies carrying us started flying downward in a spiral to meet Kir and Monty. It wasn’t until we were almost on the ground that we could really see the effects of the fairy queen’s blindness on the valley.
Harried fairies fluttered from one building to another, their arms laden with trays of food, buckets of water, bandages, blankets, straw, and so on. By the time we arrived beside Kir at the first cluster of buildings, I could see the signs of neglect. Fallen leaves cluttered courtyards and fountains. Sick or hurt animals were crowded into stalls, pens, chambers, and sheds along the outside of the buildings. Imishi pointed to a broad swath of terrace gardens alongside a long building.
“This is the medicinal herb garden,” she said. It was tangled and overgrown with weeds. “It seems nobody has tended it since I left,” she added quietly.
Monty gave a questioning squawk. “We’re here, we’re here?”
“We’re definitely here,” I agreed, “and there seems to be plenty of work to do. I just have no idea where to start.”
“We start with the queen,” Imishi said in a firm voice. “If we can help her, that will help more innocents than anything else we could do.”
I sensed Kir’s impatience to see his sire, though, and make sure that he was receiving proper care. I tried to comfort him with soothing thoughts.
Something came out of the long building and bounded toward us like a gigantic one-legged rabbit.
“Grimblehart!” Imishi cried, brightening.
When the hopping thing was almost next to us, I realized it was not an animal, but a person—a person about twice as tall as I, with only one leg. He had a huge head, with a fringe of fluffy black hair, a blobby nose, wide gray eyes that blinked constantly, and a toothy smile.
“It’s okay,” Imishi assured me in a whisper. “He’s the nicest one-legged ogre you could ever hope to meet.” When Grimblehart stopped, she launched herself into his arms for a fierce hug and said, “I’ve been so worried.”
“Dear Imishi,” Grimblehart said, gingerly patting her back and trying to not further injure her broken wing. “There’s plenty to be worried about, there is. Creatures dying, nobody knowing exactly what to do, all of us working night and day, and nothing gettin’ no better. The valley’s in a sorry state, missy, enough to make a grown ogre cry.”
“Will you take us to Queen Carmina?” my friend asked.
“We can try,” Grimblehart said, “but I’m afraid she won’t see nobody—meaning no disrespect to Her Majesty’s blindness. She says she’s lost her gift and don’t want no one to see her like that. Hardly eats, poor thing.” He heaved a blustery sigh and motioned for us to follow him. Monty hopped onto Imishi’s shoulder, and Kir clopped behind us.
We passed through two infirmaries. It hurt to see all of these animals and magic creatures who needed help beyond what the fairies caring for them could give. Tears prickled behind my eyelids. What if—what if I failed in my quest? What if I had come all this way with Imishi and this was a test I couldn’t pass? I wasn’t a doctor or a veterinarian. What could I do to truly help?
We stopped to look into a room where a once-magnificent stallion lay near death. “King Xel himself,” Grimblehart murmured. Monty remained abnormally quiet.
My throat tightened, and I could feel myself starting to panic. I couldn’t be responsible for all of this, could I?
Kir gave me a hard nudge from behind, followed by a loud snort.
Imishi must have seen the look of uncertainty on my face. She took my hand. “My cousin is right. You have to do it. This is why you came.”
Noble horse faces appeared at the window, looking expectantly. Imishi murmured to Kir as I went over to King Xel. I knelt and laid a hand on his head, trying to pick up his thoughts. A swirl of fever dreams told me that the king of horses was gravely ill. I had no idea what to do.
I stood to give Kir a hug, squelching my feelings of self-doubt and inadequacy. Kir was counting on me. Imishi was counting on me. These horses were family. Everyone was counting on me. And when everyone is counting on you, it’s selfish to wimp out.
“Okay,” I said to Grimblehart, straightening my shoulders. �
�Take us to Queen Carmina.”
Kir stayed behind with his sire while the ogre led Imishi and me to the palace of the fairy queen. The palace was a tall step pyramid of polished gray stone. From the outside, the building looked like it was about a half mile high. Up the sides of the pyramid ran hundreds of shallow steps. Hopping, the ogre led us straight up the center of the palace pyramid. Imishi kept her good wing and her broken one folded together and tucked up behind her. Monty took his position on her shoulder.
I tried to count the stairs as we climbed, but I lost track after about two hundred. Already weary from our journey, we were completely winded by the time we reached the uppermost level, to which Queen Carmina had withdrawn.
The queen’s chambers were airy and brightly sunlit from slits and holes expertly carved in the stone block walls. I didn’t even see the queen at first. Half hidden in a shadowy corner of the room, she was curled on her throne with her arms wrapped around her legs. She had on a shapeless brown garment, and her wings were tucked back.
Imishi ran forward, and taking one of the queen’s hands, she knelt at her side.
“I have no wish for visitors,” Queen Carmina murmured. Her voice sounded as if it came from miles away.
“It’s all right,” Imishi said. “Prince Kir and I found help.”
I moved forward and saw that the queen’s expression was bleak. “There is no help. I have lost my gift,” she said.
Monty gave another uncertain squawk. “We’re here, we’re here?”
Imishi shot me a look. “It can’t be true, can it? Is her illness hopeless?”
I swallowed hard. “I don’t know. Give me a moment.” I closed my eyes and let my mind wander, just as I had when making the Aventurine map.
Thoughts rose. Queen Patchouli had sent me here, hadn’t she? She had said the Inocentes Lineage was the best choice for this quest. She believed in me. I would have to observe, listen, and gather facts until I figured out what I could do.
“Tell me everything,” I said to the queen. Then I realized I couldn’t do it alone. “Tell us everything,” I added, smiling at Imishi. She smiled back and nodded.
Grimblehart picked up a couple of stools from the edge of the room. He set out one each for Imishi and me, next to Queen Carmina’s throne. We sat. Imishi introduced me to the queen and explained how I had volunteered to help her and Kir. “Zally risked her life to bring us back here to help you.”
Embarrassed, I quickly changed the subject. “Have there been any changes in your eyesight since Imishi left?” I asked, hoping to draw Queen Carmina out. Staring straight ahead with her blind mother-of-pearl eyes, the fairy queen shook her head but said nothing. How could I learn enough about the queen to help her if she just sat in her chair in miserable silence? Maybe she couldn’t tell us everything.
It was Imishi who made the first crack in her queen’s shell with a question. “Would you like to hear about Kir’s and my journey to the Willowood, and about our adventures on the way back with Zally?”
The queen sat up straighter on her throne and gave a tiny nod—the most interest she had shown so far. For the next hour Imishi and I described all that had happened to us. Imishi reported on our marsh adventure, and I joined in to narrate the attack of the marsh troll. I could see the queen was drawn into our story. Finally she began to ask questions.
As we talked to Queen Carmina, Grimblehart hopped back and forth. He set a small table for us and spread it with shell plates of fairy delicacies: tidbits of cheese, sliced fruits, a bowl of nuts, a chunk of honeycomb, and shell cups filled with liquid. Now that the queen was wrapped up in our tales of adventure, Grimblehart saw his chance and pressed a cup filled with a purple juice into her hand.
She drank without noticing what she was doing and urged Imishi and me to continue. The ogre exchanged the cup for a plate of fruits and cheeses, from which Queen Carmina began to nibble. Grimblehart gave Imishi and me a wink and a broad grin. Some of the tension inside me began to relax, and I had a kind of revelation as the pieces of the journey blended together in my mind.
Because you’re reading all of this, maybe it was obvious to you, but it took me that long to really understand my quest. It wasn’t about passing tests or guiding people or impressing anyone with how smart I was and teaching them not to underestimate me. The quest wasn’t about waving a wand and making cool things happen. It wasn’t even about being able to talk to animals, although that was a part of the bigger picture.
My quest was about learning to listen to what a person or a creature needed, and being willing to do whatever I could—just like my mother and Abuelita did. They took the time to listen, to understand. Certainly Mamá and Abuelita had done that for me, offering hugs, a cup of chocolatl, and a friendly ear. Other things began to fall into place, like the fact that Abuelita had given me the cacao pod as a symbol of our lineage, as well as of our magic and our heritage. I loved to help people and animals and had been doing it most of my life already! The Inocentes gift infused the whole Guevara family now. We not only fed people through our bakery, we reached out to offer other help. Feeding their souls …
The cacao pod! I sat up straight. Imishi was describing our hasty exit from the swamps when I excused myself for a moment and whispered my request in the ogre’s ear. With a grin, he hopped in front of me and led me to the palace kitchen.
I pulled the cacao pod out of my satchel, along with Abuelita’s recipe for chocolatl that Queen Patchouli had given me. I quickly scanned the recipe, then looked around the kitchen.
Surprisingly, they had everything that I needed.
AVENTURINE CHOCOLATL
1 KIB CHILI PEPPER, SPLIT LENGTHWISE
(SEEDS REMOVED USING GLOVES)
2 CUPS WATER
30 MAGIC CACAO BEANS
2 TABLESPOONS FINE CORNMEAL
4 CUPS LIGHT CREAM
1 LARGE VANILLA BEAN, SPLIT LENGTHWISE
1 PINCH SALT
2 STICKS AVENTURINE CINNAMON
2 TABLESPOONS HONEY
With Grimblehart’s help, I found a medium pot and very carefully cut the chili pepper lengthwise. I put on gloves to remove all the seeds, knowing that if I used my bare hands and then later touched my eyes, it would really hurt. Then I boiled the chili pepper with two cups of water until the liquid was reduced to one cup. With a spoon, I carefully strained the chili pepper from the water and set the chili water aside. While the chili water was boiling, I took all of the cacao beans from the pod, toasted them in a flat pan, and let them cool. In another flat pan, I quickly toasted the fine cornmeal and set it aside to cool as well.
In a large pot, I cooked the cream, vanilla bean, salt, and Aventurine cinnamon sticks over medium heat, stirring constantly until bubbles appeared around the edge. The Aventurine cinnamon sticks were flecked with copper and made the mixture glow orange until I reduced the heat to low. Then I added the honey and whisked the mixture until the honey dissolved. I took the pot off the heat and removed the vanilla bean and cinnamon sticks.
When the cocoa beans were cool, I ground them to a powder using a molcajete and put the ground cacao into a medium bowl with the toasted fine cornmeal.
While I worked, I thought about the fairy queen and how much she was needed. I considered how brave it had been for Kir and Imishi to leave in search of help. How lucky I had been that Queen Patchouli had sent me here. I had seen so much of Aventurine and made some very good friends. As these thoughts ran through my head, the ground cacao began to glitter with sparkles of gold. Is this the magic of the cacao? I wondered.
A quarter cup at a time, I stirred two cups of the cream mixture into the cacao-cornmeal bowl and kept stirring until the thick liquid was smooth. After pouring this mixture from the bowl back into the pot with the remaining cream mixture, I returned the pot to low heat to simmer. Then, a bit at a time, I poured in the chili-infused water, tasting it until the flavor was spicy, but not too strong. Lastly, I whisked the whole mixture until it was frothy. Finished, I took the c
hocolatl pot off the heat and poured the drink into four heavy mugs on a tray that Grimblehart brought me. The cacao pod itself had closed once more, and I put it back in my bag. I had never been so thankful for the long hours I’d spent in the kitchen of my family’s bakery.
Grimblehart hopped beside me as I carried the tray of steaming cups of chocolatl back to the queen’s chambers. The smells of cacao, chili, vanilla, and cinnamon filled the air. Still engrossed in Imishi’s story, the queen readily accepted a cup of the warm, fragrant liquid from me. I gave one cup to the ogre, handed one to Imishi, and kept one for myself, setting the tray off to the side.
11
The Healing
When all of us were seated, Imishi and I finished telling the story about the volcano, the spider, and the jaguar. I took the Shadeblossom from my pouch and gave it to my friend, who presented it to the fairy queen. Queen Carmina gasped in amazement. This gave me the opening I needed to ask questions about how the queen had been blinded and whether she knew of any cure.
The queen gave a sigh. “I am afraid there could be no cure for this blindness, even if I still had my healing powers.”
“Can you tell me more about what your powers were like—how they worked?” I asked encouragingly. I didn’t quite understand this yet, and it seemed like the powers might be the key to everything.
A wistful look came over Queen Carmina’s face. “I had the gift of identification, of diagnosis. Simply by looking at any creature, I could tell what was wrong. Once I understood and told my fairies what the problem was, it was a simple matter to direct them in what to do for the healing poultices. That part is not magic, but observation. And how can I observe without my eyesight?”