Before he returned to the others, Reg gathered some fruit from the nearby tree, just in case he had to explain his absence.
Chapter 21
THOUGH IT only spanned ten miles or so, it took the party almost a week to traverse the valley, due to the damage to the carts, the thick undergrowth, and the daily rainstorms. Querry had never seen such rampant vegetation: trees as wide as a barn, hairy vines thicker than his waist, and bright flowers the size of dinner plates. Fruit dangled from the branches like holiday ornaments. Everything competed for space. Brush and mushrooms grew from the black soil gathered in the indentations of the tree roots. Some of the leaves were even broad enough to support small oases of life.
The bizarre, beautiful environment enthralled Querry for a day or two, and then he grew restless. It was hotter than the devil’s ass, and the bugs were terrible. Querry recalled a vibrating, serrated blade Dink had once made for him as a weapon, and with the assistance of Corny and Frolic, he modified the design to help them cut a swath through the jungle. After that, though, he found little to keep himself occupied.
In the evenings, Reg often sat by the fire with Jean-Andre, the Belvaisian producing bottles of fine wine as if by magic. Frolic usually made his way to Corny’s tent, hoping for work, but the tinkerer often spurned him in favor of that smug bastard, Owens. If he couldn’t find Tom Teezle, Frolic simply spent his nights wandering in the woods. Left with little else to do, Querry sat beneath Starling’s canopy, drinking gin and trading stories of their various conquests with the baron.
“And Frolic, completely appalled by the chef’s barbarity, reached into the boiling water and pulled the lobster out!” Querry finished his story.
Starling laughed, a jovial bark. “The heat didn’t bother him?”
“Not as much as the cries of the lobster, apparently,” Querry answered. “We kept it for nearly a week until Frolic was satisfied it would survive, and then we released it back into the ocean.”
“And what did the people at the inn have to say?” the baron asked, still amused.
“We paid for it, didn’t we? It was ours to eat—” Querry paused. “—or to keep in a tub of saltwater and name Nigel until we set the little bugger free!” Starling and Querry toasted with their tin cups of gin.
“It must be exasperating,” Starling stated before he sipped his drink.
“At first,” Querry agreed. “But I wouldn’t trade him for the world.” Querry contemplated his gin, then took a sip. He caught Starling’s gaze over the rim of the cup. “It may seem silly to you, but many of the points Frolic makes are difficult to argue with. He’s a much better person than most humans.”
“And what about your Reginald? He’s such a mother hen. Does it not test your nerves, a man like you, who can clearly take care of himself?”
“No,” Querry said softly. “No, I love it. It makes me feel like someone cares about me. I never had that, before I met them, and I treasure it. I’m not a good man, majesty, but I’m better because of them.”
Starling considered that statement. “I’ll drink to that.” He raised his cup, and Querry dutifully bumped his own into it before they both drank the fiery, piney liquid.
What’s happening to us? Querry worried as he shared stories of Reg and Frolic. Before, the three of them had cherished every second they could spend together. Now they barely spoke. It was tearing Querry apart. Usually he simply decided what he wanted and had it. He just wasn’t used to anything as subtle as this. Querry had to admit, his lovers, by their disinterest, had accomplished something nothing in the world had done so far: not the workhouse, not the authorities, the faeries, nor even the bloody Grande Chancellor of Anglica—they’d kicked his ass and almost defeated him.
Almost.
Querry held hope as they finally left the sweltering little valley, telling himself boredom and discomfort took their toll on all of them. They reached the crest of a hill where the cool air circulated around them. As they continued along the top of the ridge, Querry slipped off his armored vest and loosened his tie. Though they said nothing, Reg and Frolic joined him as they traveled high above the jungle, looking down on a vast expanse of glistening emerald. It seemed to stretch into eternity.
Starling stopped a few times, getting his bearings by some unknown means, but they finally found a path west with Manuela’s help.
Frolic clasped a hand over his mouth, and Reg gasped as they stepped from the jungle shadows. At first, Querry thought he looked down at half a dozen trees covered in scarlet blossoms. But as soon as they disturbed the branches, probably a hundred vibrant birds rose into the sky. Querry felt like a boy again as he laughed out loud. Reg clasped his hand, and Frolic twirled around, catching some of the red, violet, and turquoise feathers as they spiraled down.
“This is the most beautiful place I’ve ever seen,” Frolic said, clutching the feathers to his chest.
Reg, lost for words, only shook his head, pushed his spectacles up, and dabbed at his eyes.
“I’m so glad we’re all seeing this together,” Querry said in a voice soft with awe. “I never want to forget this moment.” He caught their hands and held them tight as the three of them looked down on the gorgeous vista. Querry didn’t care if anyone saw. To hell with them.
Beyond the miles of verdant, sloping jungle, a wide river with deep, cursive bends reflected the bright blue sky. On the other edge, the forest stretched as far as he could see. “Isn’t it exhilarating?” Querry asked. “Setting foot where no man has ever been before? Somewhere completely uncharted?”
Manuela elbowed Querry playfully in the ribs as she walked by. “You mean to say no white man has been here before, Querry. There have been people living beneath these trees since before they made their way to your little island. Be careful, now. I’m not sure what to expect. I’ve never been this far into the jungle.”
“We should stay together no matter what,” Reg suggested. “Look out for each other.”
“Yes, Reggie,” Frolic said, giving Querry’s hand a small squeeze.
“Right, then,” Querry said, feeling like his world now spun securely on its axis once again instead of hurtling haphazardly through a void. He rarely lapsed into silly sentimentality, but Querry said, “If I have you two with me, I feel like I can do anything.” As soon as the words left his mouth, he felt foolish and flushed.
“I feel the same,” Reg said, surprising Querry. “Let’s get this done. I want to go home and sleep for a week after this. Oh, and Querry, you can bring me my meals in bed.”
A tremor moved through Querry’s loins. “I’ll give you a right feast in bed, love.”
“I bet you will.” Reg licked his lips.
Frolic groaned. “I won’t be able to walk properly soon if you two keep on talking like that. I do miss… privacy. So much.”
Reg grew serious out of nowhere. “When we make camp tonight, I need to speak with both of you.”
“Just speak?” Querry asked, trying to salvage the flirtatious mood he’d missed so much over the last week.
“Querry, love, I really need to get some things off my chest.”
“Of course,” Querry hurried to say. “Anything you need.”
“Let’s go,” Frolic said, and the three of them made their way down the mountainside.
Querry sensed an eerie presence among the trees, foreign and unpredictable, but not necessarily malign. He screwed his eyes shut and felt around for the faerie sight his gentleman had given him. He found it more easily than before and let it slip into place, just as he might slide his goggles over his eyes. When he saw the hundreds of strange little beings running along beside them, or sprouting wings from their fluid bodies and soaring next to their faces, he barely stifled a shriek.
WITH THE modifications Frolic and Cornelia had made to the carts, the expedition reached the river basin by sunset. Reg stayed close to his partners, unnerved by the peculiar silence of the jungle. He’d become used to the strata of noises, and their absence felt odd a
nd wrong as they moved toward the water’s edge.
Manuela made her way to the front of the group, with the two mercenaries, Istvan and Attila, close behind her. The brothers didn’t say much, but they seemed quite capable, Reg thought. Their hands on their guns looked quite steady.
The rest of them stayed a few dozen feet away. Reg had no idea what they worried over, and the uncertainty made his heart pound and his hands travel instinctively to his pistols. He couldn’t see a thing beneath the canopy, not even his fingers on his guns. Still, he felt Querry and Frolic at his shoulders and didn’t panic.
Manuela led them along the river’s edge, through the dense mist rising from the water and spilling out between the trees. Yet again, sweat soaked Reg’s shirt, but he’d almost become used to it. Strange how his body had adapted to heat that made Thalacea seem like a Tartan autumn.
The party wound their way along the deep curves of the massive river until Manuela held up a hand to stop them. Everyone froze. As he readied his own weapon, Reg heard the people behind him drawing their guns and clicking the levers. Jack Owens and the mercenaries crouched in the brush. Querry pressed his back against a tree, his clockwork pistol ready, and his goggles penetrating the gloom. Frolic’s mystic sword sang as he unsheathed it. Tom Teezle and Lord Starling exchanged a few whispered words, and not long after, Reg felt their magic warping the night all around him, raising the fine hair on his arms and the back of his neck. To Reg’s bewilderment, Frolic held his arm out as if he expected a bird to land on his wrist. Frolic’s golden eyes burned tunnels in the darkness.
Reg felt sure they were in for a fight, and he was glad to see Jean-Andre nestled behind a shrub not far off, his strange pistol in his hand. The two of them made eye contact and smiled, their little contest resumed. Reg wished he felt his companion’s amusement instead of the cold dread in his belly.
All around them, men covered in nothing but body paint and beaded necklaces broke from the cover of the trees. At least two hundred natives surrounded the small party, their bows and reed blowguns trained on the outsiders. Despite his companions’ superior technology, Reg knew they couldn’t prevail against such numbers. He hurried to the tree Querry crouched behind, ready to make a stand next to his oldest and dearest friend. Frolic watched them from across the path as if he understood. Reg blew him a kiss. If they were about to die, what did it matter?
Manuela barked a trio of crisp words into the night. No man in Starling’s expedition lowered his weapon, though the native girl stood completely unprotected and exposed. She continued to talk, and soon lured the indigenous warriors from beneath the canopy.
Reg, along with everyone else, took aim at the stark-naked men as soon as they appeared. Starling’s team all held their fire while their guide struggled to communicate with the natives. They seemed to understand some of what Manuela said, but not all of it. Even so, the two parties managed to make some progress and eventually reached an understanding.
“Stand down,” Manuela called. “These are peaceful people. If we don’t threaten them, we have nothing to fear. They don’t understand war as you would bring it to them.”
“Tell them we do not bring war,” Starling called out. The magic in the air fizzled out.
Ashamed, Reg holstered his gun and stood up. Gradually, the others followed suit, Querry and Frolic right away and the mercenaries hesitating but acquiescing. After an excruciating quarter of an hour, their entire party stood unarmed, facing the lithe, naked warriors. Manuela exchanged a few more words with their leader before motioning them down a narrow footpath.
They arrived in the native village to a hero’s welcome Reg didn’t feel they deserved. Women and children, in the same state of undress as the warriors, emerged from stick huts roofed with something like reeds or straw. They unabashedly approached the newcomers and touched their hair, clothing, weapons, and carts. Even in the scant light of their fires, Reg saw they were beautiful people with straight, dark hair, full lips, large, expressive eyes, and nimble, muscular bodies. Frolic and Tom drew more of their interest than the others, and a group of young women led the clockwork boy and the fey to the central fire and urged them to sit on the ground in front of it. Soon a procession of people carried baskets of berries, fruit, and roasted meat to their honored guests. Tom picked at the fruit, while Frolic just looked perplexed. Cornelia’s red hair also garnered wonder from the villagers. They stood on their tiptoes to touch it, making the tinkerer blush and shy away.
After speaking more with some of the warriors, Manuela approached them and said, “The tribal elders wish to speak with our leaders. Starling, since there are seven of them, you should choose six others to accompany you. Who would you like to bring, besides me?”
“Querry is my first choice, and his friend, I suppose. Jack Owens, Cornelia, and my servant.”
It surprised Reg Starling didn’t include Jean-Andre, but if the Belvaisian felt slighted, he didn’t show it. Instead, he pushed his wide-brimmed hat off and let it hang down his back by a string around his neck. He wandered away and batted his eyes flirtatiously at the lovely young men and women who came forward to marvel at his red-gold hair and sapphire eyes. He stood still, almost encouraging their fondling.
“Will Frolic be all right on his own?” Reg asked.
“What do you think?” Manuela extended her chin toward the fire, where Frolic sat surrounded by youths and children eager to pet his hair or offer him gifts. Already fruit and flowers filled his lap, and dozens of rows of small, bright beads hung from his neck. Frolic returned the friendly smiles he received, and managed to say a few words in the native language, much to the delight of the villagers. “Come, now. We shouldn’t keep them waiting. And Anglican”—she addressed Starling—“a small display of magic will go a long way toward earning these peoples’ respect. They’ll think of you as one of the spirits they revere.”
The baron nodded, and all of them approached a hut no different from the others. Reg thought it might be larger or somehow grander, but it looked identical to the rest. Inside, they faced a group of older natives: four men and three women. Feathers, shells, and beads adorned their bare bodies. Black lines, like cat’s whiskers, streaked their cheeks and foreheads. Starling and the rest sat cross-legged on the bare earth as their hosts did. Manuela said what Reg presumed were a few words of introduction, indicating each of them in turn with her hand. Though these people hadn’t threatened them, Reg couldn’t relax yet, as they all looked so stern.
“Tell them I am a great sorcerer,” Starling said. Then he opened his hand, and a green dragon straight from a storybook materialized. It flapped its wings, rose into the air, and performed some graceful loops and dives before dissipating with a puff of emerald smoke and a shower of champagne-colored rose petals.
Tom rolled his eyes, but the elders looked impressed.
“They want to know what you wish of them,” Manuela said.
“Ask them if there are any hostile elements in the area,” Owens said.
She relayed his concerns, and responded with: “Absolutely not. They say nothing exists beyond the spirit land past their hunting grounds.”
“Can they provide us with a guide to the edge of their lands?” Starling asked.
“They can spare a few hunters.”
“Give them my thanks,” the baron said.
Manuela did, and then said, “They say you are honored guests, as companions of the spirits. I think they mean your Tom and Frolic. They invite you to stay the night, share their food, and join them for a very special ceremony tomorrow evening. After that, they’d be interested in trading, and will spare what supplies they can before you set off.”
“Tell me, girl,” Starling said. “Why do you say ‘you’ instead of ‘us’? Do you not plan on accompanying me any farther?”
Manuela shook her head. “These wise elders warn that dire peril lies beyond the spirit land. No one passes beyond its borders. Besides, I want to stay here with them. They remind me of my own people. I
know this way of life can’t last. Eventually the colonists and missionaries will come, and they’ll either kill these people and their customs off or convince them they’re inferior. I just want to live as I did before for as long as I can, before this entire, beautiful world disappears forever. I know it is inevitable.”
Reg hung his head, shamed and wounded by her words. He wondered if the destruction of this culture was as inescapable as Manuela believed. Unfortunately, he suspected it was, and it saddened him.
Querry cleared his throat, interrupting Reg’s thoughts. “Um, beg your pardon, elders. But how can there be nothing beyond the spirit lands and also dire peril?”
“Quite right,” Reg agreed. “And what are the spirit lands?”
Manuela spoke to the central elder. “The spirit lands lie within a dense forest. Beyond that there is nothing. Beyond that there is dire peril.” The old man added something. “I think he’s saying certain death.”
“Well, that clears everything up.” Reg rolled his eyes, exasperated.
“Can you ask him to explain?” Starling spoke to Manuela. She relayed Starling’s question, and the old man scratched a diagram of concentric lines in the dirt. As he pointed to the different areas, Manuela translated.
“The hunting grounds,” she said as he pointed to the innermost area. Then he pointed to the next. “The spirit land.” The next band. “Nothing.” He opened his hand as he described the last area. “Certain death,” Manuela finished. The old man crossed his arms and raised his chin. They all took the hint; the conversation was over.
Everyone within the hut stood, and when the Anglicans extended their hands to what Manuela called the Panther People, the natives grasped them. Reg just couldn’t get used to their nudity, but he bet they felt more comfortable in the jungle heat than he did in his layers of leather and linen. Still, he couldn’t imagine prancing about with his bits and pieces on display, but these people didn’t hold to his values, and he knew he had no right to judge them.
A Grimoire for the Baron Page 27