“Those flags up above us are the flags of Keeto Town!” Astral declared. “And these walls in which you see now, children, is called silver serpentstone! Strongest building material ever known. Most major settlements in Galheist build high walls of serpentstone to keep their communities safe from the wind – which at times can be quite harsh, as you know.”
“We had fir trees,” said Regina. “Lots and lots, and they guarded our crops.”
Dwain didn’t notice the sound of the steel mammal patting the side of the cart as they rolled ahead towards the wall, where an iron gate guarded by two flaming ivory pillars awaited their arrival. “I think we had this stuff too. Didn’t go as high though – maybe as high as that old bear Mason Jeffrey’s head. Maybe his shoulder? Not as high as the Scythe and Stone, though, yeah.”
The memory of fiery arrows coming over the horizon flashed in Regina’s thoughts. A pang of anguish followed. Maybe that’s why…
“Serpentstone is an ore, lad. Got to dig deep, deep, deep, for it. Quite expensive. More than likely you lot used rock and mortar to build your walls. Look at the formation of the brickwork, here. Reminds you of snake scales, does it not?”
But Astral’s words fell on deaf ears. Dwain’s chin was skyward as shadow passed over the cart. The open gate into the city swallowed them up whole. Regina squinted in the new darkness around them, barely able to make out the lines in the stone walls on either side of them.
The tunnel went on for a while – each forward step a further enunciation of just how expensive this much serpentstone must have been in order to encapsulate the whole of Keeto Town.
“Can’t we go any faster, yeah?” Dwain gripped the backrest of Astral’s seat. He bounced on his knees with all the excitement in the world, until the momentum caused him to tumble forward. He caught himself, wriggled upright in the seat beside Astral.
“Be patient, my lad. We’re already there,” Astral said with a chuckle.
Regina folded her elbows over the backrest, settling in between Dwain and Astral as Astral nattered on about their arrival. “Keeto Town has two entrances. We’re coming in through the forest, which makes this the eastern entrance. The western entrance at the far end of town leads straight out into the Altusian moors…”
The light at the end of the tunnel opened up to cityscape like nothing the kits had ever seen before. Crowds of mammals and pony-led wagons trekked across the road before their very eyes.
Regina leaned over the edge of the cart to see a little otter carrying a satchel of picked flowers. She caught the otter’s attention just from eyesight, and as they passed by, he stretched an arm up and offered her a flower – an orchid, from what it smelled like. Regina’s heart fluttered with the memory of her mother. She reached for the orchid, but the tips of her paws merely grazed the petals as the cart passed by. The otter smiled back at her and sounded out something cheery to Regina, but his distant voice was drowned in a sea of commerce. Soon, he was gone, too.
But the smell of the orchid lingered in Regina’s nostrils. Thoughts of her mama came, and the purpose of their journey to Keeto Town, not long after. Regina swallowed down the bitter taste of reality and instead focused on the swath of mammals their cart slowly cleaved through.
Regina squinted at every face, flexed her nostrils at every scent. The smells all intermingled as one, difficult to rip apart and analyze. Nobody looked familiar.
It was then that she noticed that the air in Keeto Town was thin and still. Stuffy, almost as stuffy as inside Edmund Baelish’s barn back home. Dwain, too seemed to notice it, and looked directly up into the grey sky above, squinting against the pelt of falling raindrops. “There’s – there’s no wind here!”
“Oh, there is, lad.” Astral said with a chuckle. “Just not as … persistent … as we’re used to. The walls guard against it.” With a snap of Phalanx’s reins, the cart made a wide turn in the muddy road, down between rows of stone houses, where a great event seemed to be taking place near the centre of town.
Keeto’s town square was rife with activity. Large tents lined the perimeter in a perfect semi-circle that welcomed the travellers into its fold like a warm embrace. Wheda of every shape and size swam in and out of the street, with little regard for Phalanx and the rickety cart that carried his master and their precious produce. Every tent gave show to one mammal showing off his or her wares in theatrical display to whomever would listen.
The smell of fish and cooked poultry were strong in the children’s’ noses, and the sound of market bartering and town gossip were strong in their ears. Neither of them had ever seen so many mammals in one place before, and all these new sights and senses had both Regina and Dwain clamouring for more. Astral picked up on this right away and chuckled under his breath, amused. “Welcome to Keeto Town! The … erm … City of Merchants, as it’s otherwise known.”
Their convoy rolled through to the opposite end of the town square, where a tattered tent stood vacant, its canvas fluttering in what little wind there was in Keeto. They rolled up alongside the tent, by the edge of a fence that acted as a barrier between the town square and the rest of Keeto.
“Ah, here we are.” Astral hopped off the bench seat and tied Phalanx’s reins to the topmost rung in the fence, just below the invading branch of a maple tree on just the other side.
“Wot are we doin’ ‘ere, then?” Dwain asked, blinking. He looked back at Regina, who could only offer a confused shrug. She then swam to the opposite side of the cart and peered down at Astral as he finished securing Phalanx. She watched him wander around to the rear as he spoke.
Now, stay close, children. Say nothing to anyone – but if questions arise, your names are your own to choose. However – where you come from is the Hollow, and I am your uncle. From here on in, you both are in grave danger. Take great care in who you speak to.”
“What danger?” Dwain asked. “I thought we was safe from any ol’ canines here. You promised, yeah.”
“It’s not canines that concerns me,” Astral said in a dark tone. “Regina, be a dear and remove the blanket, won’t you? Oh, just bundle it up in the corner somewhere. Dwain, come back here and help me with the tailgate.”
Regina and Dwain exchanged confused looks. He slid down from his side of the bench seat without objection and vanished out of her sight. Regina heard Dwain’s footpads patter against the ground, and then he reappeared at the rear edge of the cart. Astral gestured him over, and together they climbed up onto the back of the cart and lowered the tailgate down into a ramp that barely met the bottom of the cart’s wheels.
“Here, Regina, pass us what you can,” said Astral. “Leave the potatoes, they’ll be too heavy.”
One by one the vegetables from the Hollow were carried out of Phalanx’s work cart and hauled off by either Astral, or Dwain, or the both of them, onto the soft, shady, soil of the tattered old tent. Once they were finished, Astral vanished behind a table that guarded the mouth of the tent, while the children waited with Phalanx. They were each instructed to not leave neither Astral or Phalanx’s sight.
Dwain, however, was overtly anxious to be on their way. It was obvious in the way he bounced on his knees, made disapproving clicking sounds with his tongue, and fidgeted over all, without actually coming right out to voice the displeasure of waiting around for Astral to do whatever it was that was so important.
Regina sighed deeply from where she sat cross-legged, plucking at a patch of long grass between the crooks of her knees. She squinted up at Dwain, whose features were blocked out by the blaze of the father sun peeking over the edge of the nearest wall of serpentstone.
His head jerked to and fro, searching amidst the crowds of mammals who came and passed before their little “encampment”. His attention broke for just a moment when a slender, smartly-dressed ferret broke from the crowd and strolled up wearing a wry grin, to speak with Astral. He completely ignored the children. “Ages! Why, there you are, old boy – thought you’d never show!…”
�
�Ages?” Dwain wrinkled his nose with disapproval at Astral. “Why can he call you Ages an’ I can’t, yeah?”
Regina sighed. “Do you really think the others are here?”
“Of course they’s made it.” Dwain nodded factually, eyes still firmly set upon the market’s activity, and folded both arms across his chest. His nose betrayed him, however, and wrinkled with uncertainty to something off in the distance. “Mammals escaped Altus alive, Reggie. I know it in me bones. They’re here. I can feel it, yeah.”
Regina snapped free a handful of grass and let Phalanx graze out of her palm. Thoughts of her mother came to mind again. Thoughts back to earlier that afternoon, when Regina felt the hopefulness that somehow, someway, Mama too would be here in Keeto Town, awaiting like a fretful worried mess that mothers always are when separated from their kits.
But that hopefulness was gone, now.
“Moren Pendry, I’d like for you to meet my nephew and niece.” Astral’s voice stole Regina’s attention then. She looked over her shoulder to find the ferret coming towards them with a vague look of interest. Astral was close at his heels with a medium-sized wicker basket looped around his forearm, perfect for a picnic, she thought.
“Ages, they look nothing like you!” said the ferret, laughing.
“Ahh – ahaha – interracial marriage,” Astral said, trying his best to not stumble through the words. “Their parents have gone off to see the world, so the Hollow will not feel so large and lonely the next little while, I suppose. – Ah! Uhh! Children! Come. This is Mister Pendry. He provides us building supplies. Lumber, nails, all that. Dw—err—my lad, you’d best to become good friends with our Pendry, here. He is a most knowledgeable resource when it comes to farmyard construction.”
“Hullo,” Regina said, quiet and politely. She rose to her footpads and shook Pendry’s claw with both her little paws. She smelled Dwain draw near, felt him shuffle alongside her to greet Pendry in silence.
“Names, Ages? They simply do not go merely by niece and nephew, do they?”
“Ahh, yes—children, don’t be shy. It’s not polite to—”
“Dwain,” said Dwain, sharp and swift like an assassin’s knife stroke. It was clear that this Moren Pendry fellow didn’t impress him in the least. “This is Reggie. Regina, to you, yeah.”
Astral swallowed hard. But Pendry, seemingly under the assumption that the old porcine’s fearful reaction was a result of Dwain’s rudeness, took such a thing in stride.
“Ah, a kit with fighting spirit,” the ferret declared. He slapped Dwain on the shoulder, chuckling. “I like that in a mammal.” He got down on one knee and looked Dwain deep in the eyes. He smirked, said, “Don’t let go of it, boy. Let that fight drive to feed you – motivate you. Let it take you to places you never thought you’d ever go.”
Dwain wrinkled his nose, taken aback. “Right.”
Pendry patted him on the shoulder again, offered a broad smile to Regina and winked at her. “You learn from him, lass.”
Regina furrowed her brow. What he said confused her – and also for some reason angered her, made the pit of her stomach boil into tight, upset, aches. But she stayed quiet, chewing on the statement, all the same. In that moment, Regina decided that she didn’t like Moren Pendry, either.
Astral started to speak up again as Pendry rose to a stand. “H- here, Pendry. We came upon some trouble this harvest, but hopefully our goods are adequate enough to trade today. By the by, have you any knowledge of a lenscrafter here in town?” He offered Pendry the wicker basket, actually filled with carrots, turnips, and about four or five potatoes – from what Regina tried to make out from her short vantage.
“Ages, these vegetables look like they’ve been to the underworld and back. Look at these carrots. Is that one crushed in half?” Pendry lifted it out of the basket between two paw digits and inspected it closely, like it were the most pathetic gemstone in existence. “I can’t work with this. And neither will any other self-respecting trader.”
“It’s the best we have,” said Astral. “No – no – no. Never mind that. Come. Come over to my tent. I’ll show you what else there is. You may have first dibs.”
“If you want a lenscrafter, my dear hog, you may want to save the best for them…”
“Oh! So you do know of one! Come! Come! Come!”
Regina watched the two adults head back over to Astral’s vending tent. As Astral waved Pendry forward, she caught his eye for just a moment. His gaze was a glimmer in the shadows – a firm, knowing, look that told her, Keep your brother at your side.
She squinted at him, hoped for something else, but Astral’s attention was already back on Mister Pendry, guiding the ferret’s attention behind the counter where the rest of the produce lay hidden and Regina’s sight became blurred and foggy.
“Come on,” Dwain whispered. He took Regina’s paw and started to pull her towards the road. “Let’s go while he ain’t lookin’.”
Regina pulled back on him, planting her heels firmly into the soft grass. “Dwain – no – Mister Ages—”
“Whose allegiance do yer pledge, Reggie? Astral Ages, or yer own flesh an’ blood, yeah?”
Regina froze. The suddenness of the question pierced her heart like a fallen shard of ice. She heard Pendry scoff. “Ivory Maes has better produce than this, and that’s not saying much. You may as well go back home, old boy.”
Astral rebutted. “Oh, bother! Ivory Maes! Don’t you dare compare my troubles to that scamming little weasel! Now – now look at this fine specimen. This fine example of cabbagry—”
Regina shivered.
Dwain was right. She knew this, fully completely, in her little skunk soul. She shook the thoughts away once logic tried to peter through raw emotional discord. “But – but Mister Ages said he’d take us—”
“And we’re here, yeah,” Dwain stated. “The rest is up to us now. You think he’s gonna truly help us seek those we lost? When? We’ve been here, wot, an hour, wastin’ away by the sidelines while folks come n’ go, shakin their ninny heads at the rottin’ garbage he has to offer ‘em? While we got family waitin’ for us? While Alexia the Sage is waitin’ for us all to rally together and reclaim what’s rightfully ours, yeah?”
Phalanx nuzzled his nose in between the two kits, braying and snorting complete disapproval. He nipped the air at Dwain’s face, as if stating his own opinion against what the little hedgehog suggest take place.
“You don’t scare me none,” Dwain said to the mule, pushing his face out of the way by the nose. He took Regina’s paws away from their nervous strokes across her tail. He squeezed her palms into his and gazed deeply into her frightened little eyes. “It’s our birthright, Reggie. Do ye understand? The only way we’re gonna find the others and discover the truth of what happened to Altus, is if we go an’ do it, usselves.”
Regina didn’t have an answer for him. Her tail found its way between stroking paw digits. She wanted that to be true. But she was afraid. Afraid of what leaving Astral behind might mean. What wandering the streets of Keeto Town as two little orphaned kits might result in. What they might come across – be it fruitless efforts, be it further danger – be it the truth.
Oh, how she was afraid of what the truth might bring. How she wished to be as strong and hopeful and determined as Dwain.
But Astral’s memories were intermingled with her memories now. She saw clearly in her mind what Astral had seen in both the children’s memories, when he had somehow drawn her essence into his wholeness, his very being.
There was nothing left. Nobody left.
Not even Mama. Not even the Spikeclaws.
And the possibility of coming face to face with such a reality frightened her.
16. A Visit to the Elder’s House
Phalanx’s distant brays were an alarm sounding above Keeto’s serpentstone peaks as Regina and Dwain fled deep within the crowd of market venders and traders, weaving and shoving through whomever stood between them and wherever their littl
e footpads frantically led them – all the while with their paws firmly clasped, so as not to be torn apart by the sea of mammals they swathed blindly straight through.
They ran and ran and ran until their lungs gave out and their footpads ached. Dwain and Regina ducked beneath the shade of a storefront’s overhang, where they squatted on their haunches, sweating and gasping for air. Regina looked up, dared a glance about their surroundings, and found that the market was nowhere within sight, smell, nor sound.
Dwain faced her, standing at the very edge of the overhang’s shadows. He eyed her, chin dipped, spines a quiver, tongue lolling out the corner of his mouth as he struggled to breathe. The crowd that crested behind his shoulder was an unending river of fur and scent mixtures that tickled the nostrils. Hundreds of mammals must have passed by the storefront, Regina thought, who were all so totally oblivious to the two gasping children shivering within the shadows there.
Regina spotted the otter from before – the one who tried to offer her the orchid. His visage weaved in and out of the gaps between mammals that swallowed him up - but there he was, standing tall upon a soapbox as he goaded all those who brushed past him with confident salesmammalship. One flower for just one apple. A whole bouquet for a dozen eggs.
Very few passersby paid him any mind.
Regina waved at him – just a polite little gesture – but she was too small and the flower-otter was too far away and distracted by his own dealings to notice her at all.
Dwain gave her a judging look. “Who’re you wagging yer arm at?” Sudden fright came over his features, and he spun around to search the crowd. “It’s not Ages, is it?!”
“No – no, just a boy selling flowers,” Regina said. “He wanted to give me an orchid when we drove through.”
“Wanted to give ye nothin’ Reggie, he was trying to sell it ter ye…” Dwain straightened and thumped his chest a few times with the blunt end of a balled fist. “Right, then. Where, first?”
The Book of Wind: (The Quest for the Crystals #1) Page 12