Alder leaned his head on Athel’s shoulder, his eyes peacefully closed.
He’s never linked with the trees, so this must be a little overwhelming for him.
Captain Evere tapped Athel on the shoulder and pointed to some little alcoves beyond the temple. There, growing in little clumps and clusters, were the mushrooms they had come for. They were different than the others they had seen. These were round and smooth, with the faintest green hue. They gave off no light, and grew only out of the exposed veins of a strange, silvery ore.
The entrance to each alcove was sealed by a powerfully thick wall of manoi. Athel watched as one of the monks walked up to the wall, then walked through it. The manoi gave way to him like the surface of a soap bubble, then wrapped around him, creating a skin-tight layer that he wore as he entered the alcove and set down a basket next to the mushrooms. With the greatest of care, he shaved a few layers off the surface of the mushrooms, his touch no heavier than that of a feather. He then placed the shavings in the basket and passed back through the manoi wall, leaving his protective layer behind him.
I guess that just goes to show how dangerous these things really are.
Mina seemed enthralled by the rows of monks, sitting silently in rows throughout the plaza, their hands crossed against their chests, their knees extended out so that the soles of their feet were pressed together.
“What are they doing?” Mina asked, fascinated, her long tail swishing about.
Alder looked at them and his eyes widened in comprehension. “They are learning to be still.”
“Why would you need to practice that?”
“Before you can learn to move, you must first learn how to be still,” came an old and patient voice. The man’s robes were simple. His long hair fell behind him, his long beard hung down in front of him. The beard and hair kind of blurred together and masked his shoulders, giving him a strange, rather conical silhouette.
“My name is Opinfre,” he introduced himself. “I am the high priest of this temple.”
“My name is Athel Forsythia, and I have come in great need. I wish to procure a sample of your Shikyappu mushrooms in order to save my forest.”
“Shikki-what?” Mina asked.
“DeathCap, in the common tongue,” Gomtah clarified.
Opinfre was visibly disturbed at the request. “Those are sacred to us. Our policies prohibit any outsider from taking them.”
Athel held up her hands, trying to appear as non-threatening as possible to the little man barely half her height. “I know that, but I am a Treesinger, I don’t need to take one from you. Just give me access and I can grow some for myself.”
Opinfre took half a step back, his eyes darting about. “Please understand, we use these mushrooms as medicinal herbs to aid in meditation. In the right hands, they have powerful curative powers, however, they are also extremely dangerous. If the spores are accidentally inhaled...”
“It will kill you?” Mina asked, covering her mouth with her hands.
“No, but you will wish you were dead,” Gomtah clarified.
“That’s why it’s perfect,” Athel praised.
Opinfre turned his head. “Perfect?”
“Oh, uh, the curative powers, I mean.”
“Well, I am sorry, but it is made available only to those of my order. That is our policy.”
Athel thought for a moment as she gazed out at the monks harvesting the mushrooms. They were so close, just a few dozen feet away, yet so far. “I don’t suppose it would help if I offered to join your order?”
Opinfre tapped his foot. “I could start the paperwork, of course, but given the circumstances, I would find it difficult to believe your sincerity.”
“Well, there must be a way to resolve this amicably,” Athel suggested.
“We have a zero-tolerance policy towards...”
“You know, I’m getting a little tired of hearing the word ‘policy’ from you guys,” Captain Evere grumbled.
“You didn’t mind when it suited your purposes,” Gomtah retorted.
Athel knelt down on one knee, so she could look Opinfre level in the eyes. “Lives are at stake here, there must be a way.”
Opinfre crossed his arms. “I’d really rather not debate this with you.”
“Well, I wish you would,” Captain Evere complained, “because that is what real people do, they don’t just swallow and bark out policies. They use their reason, their judgment, their sense of right and wrong. Exceptions can be made.”
There was a flash of light and a wall of manoi appeared between them and the monks. “I’m afraid Kohta does not allow for exceptions.”
With surprising speed, the wall of manoi moved, shoving them backwards. Pressed up against the wall, they were pushed back across the bridge, picking up the other members of their crew, until finally everyone, along with their gear, was deposited back at the beginning of the bridge.
“I guess that means they'll take your petition to change the policy under consideration,” Athel jeered as she picked herself up.
“Well, I suppose we can expect as much from your leadership,” Setsuna complained, dusting herself off.
“I say we just go back in there and thump our way in,” Hanner recommended, picking up his volley-gun.
“I’m not sure we could if we tried, lad,” Captain Evere warned.
Athel linked her fingers and stretched her arms behind her head, thinking hard. “No.”
“What do you mean, no?” Privet asked.
“I mean they were just doing what they thought was right. I mean, I’m not going to destroy a place like that. The world needs beautiful places. Besides, if we break those manoi walls down, we'll expose not only ourselves, but everyone in the city above to the spores. We'll find another way.”
“I don’t think there is another way,” Privet insisted.
“This argument seems oddly familiar,” Ryin observed.
From atop an outcropping, Setsuna placed her chin in her palms and looked down at the crew below. “You know, it’s pretty funny if you think about it. You guys practically destroyed a high-security Stonemaster fortress, you guys broke into the Federal Reserve for the entire League, and yet here you are, defeated by a few dumb little monks and their bureaucratic red tape.”
“When you say it that way it doesn’t sound ruttin’ funny at all,” Hanner groused.
“How’d she know about the tower?” Ryin asked aloud.
Setsuna disappeared, then appeared again, hanging on Privet’s arm. “Athel’s plan sank in the mud like a rock-turtle. Mind if I give it a try?”
“Look, this is important,” Privet urged. “This isn’t some kind of game to us.”
“Well, maybe it should be, because that is how I’m going to get us what you need to save your little island.”
“Will you stop hanging on him,” Athel yelled, but Setsuna had already vanished.
“Just what are you saying, girl?” Captain Evere asked, looking around to find her again.
Setsuna appeared right next to Athel and whispered in her ear. “I know of another place where you can get DeathCaps. The monks aren’t the only people on this island with access to Shikyappu.”
“Why didn’t you mention this earlier?” Athel asked.
“Didn’t I?” Setsuna asked, twirling a green pigtail and turning her eyes away. “I thought I had.”
Athel realized what she was getting at and folded her arms judgmentally. “How much do you want?”
“Ah, so you are leaning how this world works after all,” Setsuna praised. She closed her hands and when she opened them again, an oathband lay in each one. “Give me my honor back, and I’ll give you the information you need.”
“Never, you can’t have him!” Athel stonewalled. “I won’t allow it.”
Setsuna rolled her eyes. “Don’t you know anything about haggling? You don’t just refuse my offer outright. You counter-offer with an amount you are more comfortable with. For example, instead of a marriage, how
about a date?”
“A date?”
“Yes, a whole evening with him to myself, no interferennce from the rest of you. He promises to dote on me and give me his full attention.”
“Not a chance,” Athel insisted. “I will never let you date him.”
Setsuna’s arms dropped. “Boy, you are really bad at this, aren’t you?”
“Haggling is stupid. If I want five of something I should just be able to ask for five. Pretending that I want ten so that I can then settle on five is ridiculous.”
“That’s how the world works, princess. If you want something, you have to give up something to obtain it. You want to save your island, I want to win Privet’s heart. Giving both parties what they want is simply good business.”
Privet raised his hand. “Don’t I get a say in this?”
Setsuna and Athel turned to him. “Quiet, you,” they said in unison.
“No, I will not be quiet,” Privet insisted. “Athel, you forget that you are not my Matron, you can’t just treat me like some trinket you don’t want to sell off.”
Athel backed down and lowered her eyes in shame, realizing what was she was doing.
“And you...” Privet said, turning to Setsuna. “Do you know what my first instinct was when you said you could get us the mushrooms?”
“You couldn’t believe that a woman could be so beautiful and intelligent at the same time?” she teased.
Privet shook his head without taking his eyes off of hers. “No. My first instinct was to suspect a trap. I assumed you were bluffing so you could turn us into the local authorities for a reward or something like that.”
Setsuna looked away, her expression becoming remorseful. “I wouldn’t do that to you. You won my honor, and that means something, even to a pirate. There are some promises you just don’t break.”
“But I can’t know that, can I?” Privet said, stepping towards her. “Because right now I can’t trust you.”
Privet stopped right in front of her, his powerful frame in complete control. She wilted a little before him.
“You say you want to win my heart, but as long as I can’t trust you, that is impossible, isn’t it?”
“But...”
Privet reached out and took her hands in his and raised them up. “I can’t promise I’ll fall in love with you, but if you help us, I promise that I will trust you from now on.”
Setsuna blushed deeply. She tried to look up into his eyes, but became bashful and looked away, a suprising reaction for her.
Athel ground her teeth, and would have charged in, sword drawn, if Hanner hadn’t grabbed her and stopped her. When Setsuna saw how angry Athel was, she regained her confidence. “Oh, look at you, being all noble and compassionate and stuff,” she squirmed happily, gripping his hands. “My mother was right, I do have excellent taste in men, don’t I?”
Setsuna leaned over so she could see Athel past Privet. “Take note from this guy, princess, this is how you negotiate.”
Privet’s expression brightened. “So, you’ll help us?”
Setsuna leaned in and kissed his hand, all the while keeping her eyes locked on Athel.
Athel became enraged, grunting and swearing in her native tongue. She struggled so hard that Ryin and Captain Evere had to join in to keep her held back.
“There is one other group on the island that uses Shikyappu,” Setsuna explained, “and those are the Tojiboru athletes. Come on, I’ll take you to them.”
The journey through the caves was highly disorienting. Setsuna would create a doorway as far ahead as the curves of the tunnels would allow, step through it, then make another several hundred yards farther down, oftentimes angling the gateways so that she could get around curves and bends with only a single portal. While this was easy for her, being at the head of the column, those that followed found themselves stepping through one portal, only to find another directly in front of them. Looking ahead through one portal into another and then into another was befuddling to those not used to it. After awhile, they found it easier to just look down and step through. Despite the unusual method, they travelled miles in seconds as she brought them into cave sections that were increasingly occupied. Snack carts and shops lined the walls, shoppers milled about. A distant rumbling and faint smell became louder and stronger as they approached the arena she had told them about.
“...Did I mention that I was teaching Tim how to talk?” Captain Evere mentioned to Mina, making sure he was within earshot of Hanner. “Scuttle-butt and landlubber, geedunk and pogey bait. I was even halfway to getting him to salute with his little foot.”
When Hanner ignored him, Evere pushed a little harder. “Maybe I should have taught him how to say, ‘please don’t eat me.’”
“Blast it, Cap’n, I already told you I didn’t eat your parrot!” Hanner yelled.
“Then where is he, by thunder?”
They stepped through one final gate, and now the rumbles were a deafening roar. Built like a many-tiered bowl, the stadium was carved directly out of the rock. Ten-thousand screaming voices all converged on the center of the stadium. Drunken Sutorians with faces painted in their team’s colors shouted obscenities, threw their ale bottles, and jumped up and down, oftentimes tearing off their shirts and waving them above their heads.
“Great Anvils! What stinks in here?” Ryin complained, waving his hand around.
Mina’s ears perked up, her tail began lashing around in panic. “Stinks? What stinks? Nothing stinks,” she said nervously, pulling out a perfume bottle and dousing herself.
But the smell wasn’t coming from her, it was the musk of twenty thousand warm, sweaty armpits, combined with the salty air of cheap cheese, rancid butter, skunky ale, and a sharp, acidic aftertaste of bile. The smell was incredible. So strong that it actually felt like a physical force. It kicked you in the stomach as you walked in, then slowly strangled you, squeezing your throat and nose from the inside out.
“Are these really the same people?” Alder asked as he covered his mouth with his handkerchief, watching their boorish behavior.
“It’s pretty typical of islands like this,” Setsuna commented as she led them up the aisles to some empty seats. “The harder you clamp down, the more pressure builds up. This is their release valve.”
At the center of the stadium sat a delineated dirt field with a net at each end, enclosed in a box of manoi. Inside stood two Tojiboru athletes, gaudily dressed in bright colors, each controlling two square blocks of manoi that were used to bounce and reflect the ball around as the drunken crowds cheered them on.
“How can they concentrate with all this noise?” Mina asked, plugging her ears.
“They're trained to block it all out,” Setsuna commented as she sat down and plucked a box of popcorn away from the feet of an unsuspecting spectator.
Hanner and Alder sat down next to a tiny cheering Sutorian, his face painted in quartered red paint, his necktie tightened about his head like a headband. “Well, hey, look who’s here,” Hanner grunted, pointing at the little man. “It’s our friend from the train station.”
Waving banners dropped from Eighlo’s tiny hands. He squeaked in fright and tried to run away, but before he could get clear of them, Hanner plucked him up and held him aloft by his belt.
“Hey, don’t mind us, little squirt, you look like you’re having a good time.”
“I was,” Eighlo groaned as he was placed back in his seat.
Setsuna patted the empty seat next to her, but Athel grabbed Privet and sat him down hext to her. “So, who uses Shikyappu in here?” Privet asked, trying to keep them on task.
Setsuna scowled at Athel. “The officials give it to players who are injured during their matches,” she explained, tossing some popcorn into her mouth.
“In what form?”
Setsuna shrugged. “I dunno, a little slice off the top, I think.”
“Would that be enough?” Privet asked.
“As long as there are a few living cells, I can
grow it from there,” Athel replied as she rested her hand on Privet’s knee. She could feel Setsuna’s glare without even having to turn around.
Vendors walked up and down the aisles, carrying trays with drinks and snacks.
“Hey, I'll take an ale,” Hanner called out, holding up a few coins. The vendor reluctantly handed one over, carefully inspecting the coins to make sure they weren’t counterfeit.
The bottle looked ridiculously tiny in Hanner’s enormous hand. He twisted off the top and drank the contents, barely a sip for his massive frame.
The announcers came out, standing atop the box of manoi, and shouted out to the crowd in their native tongue. An athlete emerged, dressed in quartered red, his pair of manoi blocks likewise quartered.
“That’s Sevtah, the Regional Champion,” Eighlo cheered. He’s from my home district, District Three.”
Sections of the crowd began cheering something over and over again. “Wata! Shika! Chiha! Nanba! Wamda!” The energy of their combined voices made the ground rumble beneath them.
“What are they cheering?” Alder asked, covering his ears.
Eighlo thumbed his nose. “They are saying ‘We're number one,’ of course.”
Alder sat back and pondered this information.
“What?” Eighlo asked.
Alder waved his hand. “Oh, nothing. It’s just that I don’t see how the people in the stands can claim his glory.”
Eighlo belched drunkenly. “What do you mean?”
“Well, it’s obvious that he is number one, not the people cheering for him.”
Eighlo stood up, still shorter than Alder sitting down. “But, they help him by cheering for him, so it’s like they're part of the team.”
“But, she said the athletes are trained to block it out.”
“Yeah, but because he’s from our district, it means that our district is better than their district.”
“Was he born in District Three?”
“No, he was hired by an agency. He was actually born in District Eight.”
Alder tapped his fingers together, “so, if anything, that would prove that District Eight is better, not that District Three is better.”
Isle of Wysteria: The Reluctant Queen Page 44