The Fiuri Realms (Shioni of Sheba Book 5)

by Marc Secchia

“Cave Thirteen, Spinward, Core Tunnel.”

  “Good. You are overawed to be visiting your famous cousins at the house of the Chief of the Nectar Guild. You’ve never been to such a great city.”

  “Got it. But Viri, what’s going on?”

  Char said, “We’ll explain later. Best wing forward, Shionelle.”

  Viri tittered, “You have four, so choose a good one.”

  Shioni offered a weak laugh in return. Not very funny for a White Fiuri who hadn’t the first idea why she even possessed four wings!

  They lined up with a hovering group of Greens. Shioni began to notice subtle differences in the shading and patterns of the different Fiuri. Some had swirls, others had rings or oblong rings on their limbs, while their colours varied through a thousand different shades, from darker greens to cheerful apple and lime Green colours. Chardal explained that each shade represented a different Green clan, and the relationships between them were very complicated and often competitive. Alliances with just the right clans were vital to everyday Fiuri life.

  The Yellow Fiuri stopped every visitor to Sherfiuri Ball with hard-eyed glances and a set of questions. Shioni wondered about the fear she sensed in her three friends. Not all was well in Fiuriel. Suddenly, she wondered how much this might have to do with a White Fiuri with no past.

  It was their turn. Viri named each Fiuri in their group and their colour and clan.

  “White?” Two Yellow Fiuri turned to peer at Shioni. “Where are you from … child?”

  “Oh, if it pleases you,” Shioni lisped in a high, lilting voice, “I’m from Cave Thirteen Spinward and I’ve never seen such a big city. Are you the Fiuri in charge?”

  “Well, we guard the gate. Where are you going, child?”

  “Well, my uncle’s a very big Chief of all the Nectar and he’s got … um …”

  “The Nectar Guild,” Viridelle supplied. “Shionelle’s from a very small tunnel; just recently out of the cocoon. We’re supposed to show her all the sights. You know, it’s an antennae-pulling duty, but families flutter together.”

  “Ay, families flutter together,” chorused the Yellow Fiuri.

  They nodded at each other. “Fly on,” said the first. The second Yellow finished writing their names in a logbook.

  “Well,” said Viridelle, hustling Shioni along. “Let’s hope that worked. Quickly now. I’ve a tingling in my antennae that says we need to speak to my parents, and fast.”

  Chapter 8: Green Boss

  FLYing RAPIDLY THROUGH THE Fiuri city, Shioni had little time to take in the sights. She saw a few passing Fiuri glancing strangely at her, but most appeared friendly. They buzzed along a main tunnel, bordered on all sides by shops and businesses. Other tunnels branched off at intervals–upward, downward, left and right. She would have been utterly lost had Viri not led them confidently up a branching tunnel, before swinging sharply into an area of what appeared to be nest-like houses. As they zipped along, the structures grew ever more ornate and luxurious. Small patches of hanging gardens appeared between the dwellings.

  Shioni saw how cleverly the Fiuri homes were attached to the main frame of Sherfiuri Ball. There were a bewildering number of possible routes to any place. Small armies of Fiuri tended the extensive gardens around and indeed, up the walls and roofs and floors of every house–because every home was itself a garden, by definition. The walls were constructed from a type of leafy flowering vine, intricately braided together.

  Viri led them between two houses, through a tunnel barely wide enough for Iridelle, before they suddenly broke out into a wide space.

  “The palace,” said Char, pointing.

  “Beautiful,” breathed Shioni.

  But Viridelle pulled her around at once. “Our little home.”

  Shioni sighed with delight. Someone had clearly taken great care in designing the house, which, although much smaller than the palace opposite, was far more enchanting. Each round window was lined with petite turquoise flowers, and the whole nest-like building resembled a Fiuri resting on her stomach with her wings raised in the air. The entryway led through a series of flower-themed rooms. Char’s quiet whisper in her ear informed Shioni how unique and rare the flowers in each room were.

  “It’s embarrassing,” said Iridelle.

  “Father’s the Chief of the most important Guild in Cave Seventeen,” said Viridelle. “We supply the best nectars to most of the Outer Caves and a few of the Inner ones, too, and trade extensively with the other Colours.”

  They must be very rich, Shioni thought. If there was any trouble in Sherfiuri Ball, it either affected them, or involved them in some way. She hoped she was not bringing misfortune to their sweet home.

  “But the best thing is that Mother and Father are good flowers,” said Iri.

  “Good flowers,” repeated her twin. “The very best. But Mother’s a bit … well, motherly. I suppose you’d have to be with seven children, two pupae and another three caterpillars on the way.”

  Shioni blinked. Had she once been a caterpillar?

  They swept into a large chamber decorated with sprays of violet trumpet-flowers longer than a Fiuri was tall. Shioni saw an enormous, portly Fiuri in fine trousers and a fancy jewelled necklet talking to a huddle of Red Fiuri, directly ahead. To her left, two girl-Fiuri, no bigger than her, played a catching game with what looked like a glowing stick, only the stick had legs and giggled merrily at each toss and catch. Below her, three dark green Fiuri were stocking what looked to be a large pincushion plant festooned with umpteen labelled gourds of nectar, while a boy-Fiuri zoomed across their path in hot pursuit of something she could not see.

  “Char!” he cried, changing direction so suddenly he clipped Shioni’s wings on the way past and sent her spinning. “What’s new, zoomeroo?”

  Iri caught Shioni’s ankle and deftly turned her upright–whatever ‘upright’ meant in this crazy world.

  “Iri! Viri!” A petite, apple-green Fiuri hurled herself across the room at the twins. “You’re back! How was hunting? How was the trip? All safe–Viri, your eye! By the first pupa, what did you do to your poor eye? Iri, you didn’t, did you? Arandal, the girls are back!”

  “I didn’t, Mother,” said Iridelle, returning her antennae-rubbing warmly.

  The portly Fiuri broke away from the group of Reds to bear down on them with an air of stately majesty. He was nearly as tall as Iridelle, but easily three times her girth. Iri had clearly inherited her stature from her father. His moon-shaped face broke into the broadest of grins. Arandal looked every inch the Chief of the Nectar Guild. He was so rotund, Shioni wondered how he even stayed up in the air. He must enjoy his nectar–a lot!

  “Iri, Viri and Char!” he boomed. “Welcome back, you band of rascals and crystal-bandits! What’s buzzing in the tunnels, eh? Which way’s the pollen blowing?”

  And he collected them all into an enormous hug, even Shioni. Releasing them, he pretended surprise as he looked beneath his arm to discover her. He caught Shioni’s wrist in one huge paw before she could make her escape. “By my jolly wings, what pretty scrap has my Hunter-daughter dragged in this time? Mother, have you seen this poor, half-starved mite? Pinched Iri’s shorts in the bargain. More like trousers on her, though–ha ha ha! What’s your name, little petal?”

  Arandal’s smile was infectious, and his laugh was exactly the same as Iri’s. She smiled back, “I’m Shionelle, o big Chief … oh, scabby hyenas, that came out wrong.”

  “Big Chief? Big Chief, eh? Has a fine ring to it. Which cave are you from … with your four wings?” His eyes narrowed. “And no colour?”

  “She’s got amnesia,” Iri put in. “Be nice to her, Father.”

  “What, her body forgot what colour she’s supposed to be?” he boomed. “By all the nectar in my storerooms–which is the greatest bubble of nectar in all Fiuriel–that’s impossible!”

  Viridelle whispered to Shioni, “He’s ridiculously proud of his nectar stores.”

  “Now, Arandal,” said the twi
ns’ mother, deftly extracting Shioni from his grasp, “don’t you be frightening the darling little petal. Mind her arm, you overstuffed nectar gourd.”

  “Shionelle gave Viri that eye, Mother,” said Iri. “And she knows a strange fighting technique. She beat Viri in a–”

  “Caught me by surprise,” grumbled Viri.

  “You beat my proud Hunter?” Arandal’s laughter bellowed through their house. He swatted Viri so hard on her shoulder that she spun around three times in the air. “HA HA HA! That’s rich nectar, that is! Best story I’ve heard this moon-cycle!”

  While he was busy pulling Viridelle’s wings, their mother said, “Can I check your arm, Shionelle? I’m a healer. My name’s Lifirielle, but you can call me Lifi. Or Mother, until we find your real parents.”

  So kind! Shioni wiped her eyes discreetly.

  While Viri and Char enthusiastically related the story of how they had found Shioni and their adventures since, Lifi somehow smoothed the cast off Shioni’s arm and examined her wound by running her hands gently over the bruise. Her skin tingled pleasantly. Lifi complimented Char on having set the bone cleanly.

  “Only as you taught me, Lifirielle,” he murmured, blushing.

  To the lilting flow of magic, Lifi re-formed the cast on Shioni’s arm and checked her over. “Still a spot of Glue-Slap on your wings, little petal.” She scratched it off with her fingernails. “And a huge bruise here, on your side and shoulder. Something hit you hard. Perfect wings, all four of them. Not even vestigial.” She explained, “Sometimes the wings don’t develop properly in the pupa or don’t function properly–we call those vestigial. If we can, we encourage them to grow and work with our Fiuri magic. But your wings look perfect. I’d love to examine you properly, Shionelle.”

  “Now, Mother, just you behave yourself,” said Iri.

  “Pollens’ sakes, Shionelle’s not one of your experiments,” scowled Viri.

  “But she can test my newest invention,” Arandal enthused, holding out a gourd. His wings quivered in a state of high agitation. “I am terribly excited about this completely new, tunnel-shivering concept in nectar, Shionelle. As our honoured guest, I would like you to be the first Fiuri in all of Cave Seventeen–indeed, in all the caverns of the Fiuri Realms–to sample the marvellous, the eye-popping, the antennae-curling wonder of taste sensation that is–”

  Viri whispered, “When he talks like that he could make me eat a luminous yellow Forager Slug.”

  Shioni giggled, accepting the gourd.

  Lifi clutched her husband’s arm. “Is it safe, Arandal?”

  “Safe? Safe?” His already overlarge chest swelled alarmingly. “No taste-bud is safe around me! I will tease, I will tickle, I will tingle her to her tiny toes as this miracle of nectar sophistication makes her proboscis explode with a thousand delights … what kind of question is that, my beautiful tara-petal? Would I hurt a guest?”

  “Or a potential customer?” Lifi suggested, but she flipped over in the air to give her husband an upside-down kiss on his forehead. “I love it when you get inspired, Arandal.”

  “You inspire me, Lifirielle.”

  Viridelle made a gargling noise in her throat. “Have you ever seen soppier parents?”

  “But ever so romantic,” Chardal sighed behind Shioni.

  “You have to taste the nectar,” said Iri.

  “It’s a family tradition,” Arandal declared. “Now, Shionelle. Take a decent mouthful and swirl the nectar around inside your mouth. Make sure you savour it before you swallow.”

  Suddenly, Shioni found herself surrounded by fluttering wings and eager green eyes. Even Viri and Iri’s brother and little sisters gathered around. Raising the gourd to her lips, Shioni took a cautious sniff. The nectar smelled fabulous, the concentrated aroma of Fiuriel itself, a smell so extraordinary that it ignited pictures and whirlwinds of light and colour in her mind. If this heavenly drink didn’t introduce colour to a Fiuri’s wings, she decided, nothing ever would.

  “Good?” Arandal whispered.

  Lifi jabbed her husband in the ribs with her elbow. “Hush.”

  Shioni tipped up the gourd. A velvety syrup spread over her tongue. Her eyes shuttered in bliss. Astonishing, she thought. Magnificent. She had no words for the taste, so much richer than honey, such a vast palette of flavours and essences and spices that she realised no nectar she had tasted so far was even a pinch on this. She felt dizzy, even a little shocked, by the messages rushing from her mouth to ambush her brain. Her toes curled. Her antennae frazzled. Without warning, the nectar began to fizz and pop in her mouth, thrilling her tongue and tickling her nose with an entirely new array of rich perfumes, so that she swallowed a great gulp and sneezed all at once. Her eyes flew open.

  Iri patted her back. “Dad, what did you–”

  There was so much fizz and sparkle all the way down her throat and in her stomach that Shioni could not help what followed. She sneezed. But it was not just any ticklish sneeze. Shioni bounced backward through the air as she yelped and sneezed alternately. Pink, turquoise and violet bubbles marked her trail to the far wall. They popped lazily, releasing heavenly aromas into the room.

  She sneezed rapidly, six times in a row. Bubbles fluttered about her face like eager butterflies.

  “Whoo-whee,” she wheezed, seeing a world of strange colours. The nectar seemed to have poured liquid fire down her throat, only it was a fire of blissful brilliance, a cosy warmth that reminded her of home and joyous laughter and beloved things.

  When the air cleared, Shioni saw every Fiuri staring expectantly at her. Could she even speak?

  “Hoooleee!” Shioni gasped. “Fabbabb-leee-um-cious!”

  “Told you it was good!” Arandal beamed.

  Lifirielle smacked his arm. “You hurt the child, you great big Stink-Flower.”

  “Wow, Dad, is that a new chemical weapon?” asked Viridelle, sounding decidedly impressed. Shioni decided Viri needed a slap just as soon as she could think about moving again.

  “Are you alright, Shionelle?” Iri worried.

  “Come on, describe it to me,” Arandal said. “What was it like? What did you taste?”

  “I’m not sure I could say,” Shioni croaked. She rubbed her throat, trying to summon up words with enough force to wipe the look of intense disappointment off Arandal’s face. “I … I think I have a name for it, though.”

  “A name?” Gasps all around.

  “Nobody dares to name one of his creations,” Chardal whispered, quickly. “It’s a Guild-Master job. The most secret, sacred job of all.”

  Judging by how these Fiuri almost worshipped nectar, Shioni should have known. Ouch. Double-ouch with wings on. When would she stop blundering about and trampling over every Fiuri tradition she could find? She wanted nothing more than to flutter away from Sherfiuri Ball forever.

  Arandal swallowed audibly. “I suppose … just this once … I’ll admit, I’ve been struggling to name this nectar. It’s a very special blend. And I invented a brand new technique for introducing the fizz. Quite brilliant, if I say so myself.” He added, rather mournfully, “You did like the fizz at least, Shionelle?”

  Poor Arandal. He seemed to have shrunk to half of his previous size. That simply would not do.

  Shioni squared her shoulders. At the top of her lungs, she shouted, “It was fizz-tastic!” Well, that woke them up. “It’s a masterwork,” she added, more gently, catching Arandal’s eye. “You are not a nectar producer, Big Chief–uh, Arandal. You are a nectar artist.”

  “Well!” said Arandal, his deflation reversing itself with miraculous speed. “Well, by all the flowers of Fiuriel!”

  “Oh dear,” said Iri.

  “He’s your flower-friend for life,” giggled Viri.

  Arandal threw his daughters a quelling glance. “Silence, you pollen-brained brood of caterpillars! Well, Shionelle, I must say, I’ve been working toward this particular nectar for over ten moon-cycles. The sweat! The labour! I am a genius, after all–which eve
n a Fiuri caught in the grips of amnesia cannot fail to recognise. Pure inspiration. But have I told you about the thousands of unsuccessful attempts I discarded before producing this particular recipe, which is a blend of–”

  Lifi took Shioni by the elbow. “How’s about we find you a set of clothes which actually fit, little petal?”

  They were halfway across the room when Arandal, still spouting like an uncontrollable fountain about his efforts and accomplishments, spotted them leaving. “Stop!” he screeched. “The name! You can’t leave me–”

  “If some Fiuri would stop prattling on like the silliest of caterpillars,” said Lifirielle.

  It was amazing how such a small Fiuri could halt her enormous husband mid-flutter, Shioni thought. Arandal turned to her, his triple chins quivering in agitation. His poor face!

  Nervously, Shioni said, “I thought it might be called ‘Fiuriel’s Breath’.”

  Chapter 9: Trouble Ahead

  AT The Dinner-Puff, Shioni found herself the subject of a flowery toast which she thought would never end. Her ears burned as Arandal, Chief of the Nectar Guild, praised her imagination from the fiery core of Fiuriel to the very edge of the known tunnels. “Fiuriel’s Breath!” he declared at last. “Drink, my precious petals. Drink to this fine Fiuri, who graces us with her presence. May she soon discover her true colour. Shionelle, and Fiuriel’s Breath!”

  Everyone in the family picked a gourd off the puff they were hovering around, and drank. Shioni sipped gingerly. Like everyone else, she caught her breath reverently. The nectar was even more wonderful than she remembered, especially as she was not sneezing it out of her nose in large bubbles, this time. Although–there went one of the children, hiccoughing pretty pink bubbles in all directions. She was not the only one.

  A crystal chime struck sweetly somewhere in the house.

  Shioni glanced about. It was evening, and Fiuriel’s light was noticeably diminished. She had spent the afternoon resting on Viridelle’s bed, while Viri, Iri and Char disappeared about their business. Char had reported that White Fiuri were unknown to the scholars of Cave Seventeen. Viri filed reports at the Hunters Guild, while Lifirielle unearthed a pair of slim green shorts which fit Shioni perfectly, and a midriff-top which the family tailor had modified to accommodate her extra pair of wings. She felt properly clothed at last. Why was that? Lifi whisked her away to be perfumed and prepared for dinner. A whole heap of glittering powders, scents, and giggles later as Iridelle was forced to submit to the same rituals, Shioni was declared ready for dinner.