Isle of Wysteria: Make Like a Tree and Leaf

by Aaron Yeager

  Hanner entered the room and winced painfully from the smell, waving his huge hand in front of his face. “Whew, you guys smell like something died and then took a squat.”

  Despite Athel’s squealing protests, Hanner walked over and scooped her up.

  “Ooh,” Mina exclaimed. “Since we are here we can finally pick up some new pants for Alder.”

  Mina unzipped Ule’s green-stained pants and began tugging them off his dripping legs.

  “If it's all the same to you, I think I’d rather just keep wearing the skirt,” Alder stated as Hanner scooped him up and headed for the door.

  Chapter Seven

  Cages of wood

  Athel could not remember the last time she felt so tired. There were no forests in the skies, so she could not draw upon their vitality to sustain herself, and she felt too guilty to ask Deutzia, since she was already having a hard time adjusting to the thin dry air. It had probably only been two days, but to Athel it felt much longer. Captain Evere had worked them constantly since his rescue, moving and stacking hundreds of crates that had been thoughtlessly tossed into the hold.

  The Dreadnaught’s cargo area was fairly small, so it was necessary to move a portion of the crates elsewhere in the ship just to clear out enough space in one corner to begin properly stacking them. Now they were gathering up the last few crates that had been stored elsewhere on the ship, under close supervision.

  “In the morning we reach our port,” Captain Evere yelled as he stood upon the neat stacks of crates. “The sooner you finish, the sooner you can rest.” Captain Evere had a dominating energy about him that made him seem much younger than the distinguishing gray in his hair would suggest. He kept his beard shaved except for large mutton chops on the sides, which he liked to stroke when he was giving orders. But his most distinguishing feature, by far, were his eyes. Black on black, without any white part at all, like obsidian marbles that rolled back and forth as he looked this way and that.

  Mina slinked up to the captain and kissed him passionately, her tail wrapping around his leg as he embraced her warmly.

  “I’m sorry that I missed our anniversary,” Evere said in his gravelly tones.

  “Well, it’s going to be hard for you to make it up to me, but I’m sure you’ll figure out a way,” Mina purred as she played with the hair on the back of his head.

  Odger cleared his throat as he walked past the two, but they ignored him and kissed again.

  Athel groaned as she hefted a crate into place and wiped the perspiration from her face. Alder leaned in toward her as he prepared to walk off and find another crate.

  “I have left a gap in the stacks right over there,” he whispered, motioning to one corner, “since they are distracted, you can slip in there and rest while I finish the stacking.”

  “I’m okay,” Athel insisted, “I’ve got something hidden in my bunk. As soon as they put us down for bed, I’ll call the authorities and get us out of this.”

  Ryin walked up to Evere and Mina, wearing a pair of Athel’s underwear on his head. “Well, I went through their stuff, you know, as a safety precaution,” he said nonchalantly, “nothing too out of the ordinary. The princess had a message crystal, but it wasn’t hidden very well.” Ryin tossed the crystal over to Evere, who caught it and stuffed it in his pocket without ceasing to kiss Mina.

  Alder looked at Athel as if to say, “What now?” as Ryin walked off. Athel kicked a crate in frustration.

  “When did we take on all these stupid things anyway?” Athel complained as Spirea arrived with a crate of her own.

  “While you two were leading the guards on a merry chase through the penitentiary, the rest of us emptied their warehouse. This is all confiscated materials, mostly Ruper Spice.”

  Athel’s eyes narrowed as a dark thought occurred to her. “I’ve read of pirate captains forcing their crews to become addicted to spice as a way of compelling them to stay on board. You don’t think that’s what he plans for us?”

  “No,” Spirea laughed, shaking her head. “That’s way too expensive. You see the way we’re stacking them? This is an offering.”

  “A what?”

  Spirea set her crate down and stretched her back. “When a ship goes pirate, its only chance to survive is to link up with a pirate guild. They have the network to sell off the stolen goods without alerting the authorities...for a hefty percentage of course. Joining a guild requires an offering, like a membership fee. They’re using Ruper Spice, so it’s definitely the Umor Guild.”

  “You sure know a lot about this,” Athel mentioned.

  “Family business,” she admitted. “It’s kind of unavoidable.”

  “So, what was the offering to join the Sotol Guild?”

  “We were old fashioned,” she said with a grin. “We took gold and slaves.”

  Alder returned with a crate in his hands. “I think this is the last one we stowed in the forecastle,” he said as he approached them. Despite his steady expression, his arms and legs were trembling with exhaustion.

  He never complains of being tired, Athel noted as she watched him approach. His foot caught the back of his heel and he fell to the deck, the crate in his hands landing on a corner and breaking open, revealing a ceramic jar inside that likewise cracked, oozing out a black tarlike substance.

  The crash interrupted the captain and his wife, who leapt down off the crates and began running over to where Alder had fallen.

  “I’m sorry,” Alder apologized as he weakly brought himself to his feet. He pulled out a rag to plug up the leak in the jar.

  “Don’t touch that,” Spirea warned, grabbing his hand and pulling it back. Evere and Mina reached them and looked down at the mess.

  “What have we got here?” the Captain asked, wiping lipstick off his face.

  “It’s the black shakes,” Spirea said, her gaze distant. “The bile that spice addicts cough up right before it finally kills them.”

  They all looked at the black liquid as it slowly flowed out. The jar itself was lined with golden letters of warning and wax seals.

  “Is it valuable?” Evere asked, scratching his chin thoughtfully.

  “No, it’s trash,” Spirea admitted. “There’s no reason to store it.”

  “There was a treatment center not far from the penitentiary,” Mina recalled. “Could this have come from there?”

  “This crate isn’t labeled like the others,” Evere noted as he bent over to inspect it.

  “Addicts don’t cough up very much,” Spirea said quietly. “It must have taken hundreds of people to fill this jar.”

  Mina squeezed Evere’s arm, her eyes pleading with him to change his mind. Evere stroked her beautiful face, smoothing out her white fur.

  “How do we clean it up?” Evere asked.

  “Use sealed gloves and cut out that section of the deck,” Spirea explained. “Don’t get any on your skin unless you want the black shakes yourself.”

  Evere nodded, taking in the instructions.

  “It’s my fault. I should clean it up,” Alder volunteered.

  “No, I’ll do it myself,” the Captain said. “Mina, have these three escorted to their quarters for some rest under lock.”

  Mina nodded and led the three out of the cargo hold.

  * * *

  A few hours later, Athel lay quietly in the darkness of her quarters. Despite the exhaustion of her body, she found herself unable to fall asleep. The sky was so peacefully quiet at night, but it was also empty. All her life she had slept with the thoughts of her people carried through the trees passing over her, a kind of soothing background sound. Now that it was gone, she found that she missed it.

  Normally when she couldn't sleep, she would just spend hours with some of her favorite adventure books, The Rings of Grendelabra, The Voyages of Tanabori, and her all-time favorite, The Charleton’s Quest. Unfortunately, her stacks of books all stayed back in her room on Wysteria, so she had nothing to pass the time but her thoughts.

  Try
as she might, she just couldn’t wrap her head around the reality of what was happening to her. Not only had she assisted in freeing a felon from death row, and was an accessory to grand theft, she was now essentially a prisoner on a former ship of the fleet that was now turning pirate. It just didn’t seem real to her. Part of her knew she should be frightened, but somehow she just couldn't make herself feel it acutely.

  From her position up on the desk under the porthole Deutzia shimmered, attempting to sound cheerful.

  “I know,” Athel responded, “but there’s no way I’m going to try anything right now. We’ll be safe for a little while, at least. It would be too dangerous for them to kill us or sell us. They know the Queen would hunt them to the ends of the seas if they did. No, we’ll wait until we’re far away from this guild of theirs, and then we’re going to escape.”

  Deutzia hummed slyly, and Athel smiled. “I can’t hide anything from you, can I?” Athel admitted. “Well, knowing Privet, he’s probably out hunting pterobirds or something right now,” She said absentmindedly as she rolled onto her back. “I feel like I am being haunted. I keep seeing his face. Did you know one time he actually brought me some ptero eggs?”

  Deutzia buzzed discordantly.

  “No, I'm sure he left them there on purpose. That was no accident. He just wanted to thank me but he was too proud to admit it. That's just the way he works.”

  Athel rolled onto her side, wishing for ptero eggs.

  Deutzia blinked inquisitively.

  “Are you kidding? Have you ever seen Privet's stomach? You could grate cheese on it. Oh, and he's even got that little muscle ridge on the side. You, know, like right here? I-I don't even know what it's called but he's got that and every time I see it I just melt.”

  Deutzia tilted to one side and sparkled skeptically.

  “See, you are looking at this all the wrong way. He knew I didn't need his saber lessons to pass the entrance trials, but he did them anyway. It's totally obvious that he just wanted to spend time with me.”

  Deutzia hissed judgmentally.

  “No, it had nothing to do with the money. He's a good person; he wouldn't take advantage of anyone like that.”

  Deutzia glittered suspiciously.

  “I just know, okay? It's like the way he grins. Bad people don't grin like that.”

  Deutzia chirped in contradiction.

  “Shut up, you.”

  Both were silent for a moment, then Athel shook her head and chuckled.

  “Look at this,” Athel said. “He's got me so twisted up I'm arguing with myself. You know, it’s just so unfair. All of it. I was finally ready to leave. I had everything tied up so neatly. No baggage, no regrets. Then the great tree went and gave me a reason to go back.”

  Her thoughts were interrupted by a small knock at the door.

  “What do you want? The pirate guy said we were allowed to get some sleep,” Athel shouted back.

  “I thought you might be hungry, so I made you some dinner,” Alder said through the door. Athel sat up, bewildered as Hanner opened the door and Alder came in holding a tray. The dishes and utensils were crude, but their arrangement on the tray was formally done, a small potted flower added as a garnish.

  “How did you convince them to let you out to use the kitchen?” she inquired.

  “I just asked,” Alder blinked. He set the tray down in front of her and lifted the coverings.

  “You made me fried ptero eggs?” she asked, perking up.

  Alder knelt on the floor beside her bed, ready to attend.

  “How did you know this is what I wanted?” she asked, dipping her toast into the yolk.

  “Well, I can sense...”

  “Right, right,” Athel cut him off with a mouth full of toast, “I really don’t want to hear you say that out loud.”

  “We were introduced under bad circumstances,” Alder admitted as she ate, “and I wanted to extend a peace offering to you.”

  “Well, I accept your offering without comment, but negotiating clemency without a vote from the ruling families is beyond my authority,” Athel said formally.

  Alder raised his gaze slightly and watched as Athel swung her legs happily, small bits of food falling from her mouth onto her bunk as she ate.

  Athel swallowed another bite without chewing it and noticed him looking at her.

  “You don’t like the way I eat, do you?” she accused.

  “I didn’t say anything, my Lady.”

  “You don’t have to. My mother looks at me that way too. Either knock it off or leave.”

  Alder bowed his head and apologized.

  “Yeah, yeah,” she said, waving her hand. “Anyway, this is a lot better than I thought it would be. You’re a pretty good cook.”

  “I’m glad you like it. I made a point to speak to the royal chefs and learn your favorite dishes before we left.”

  Athel noticed him kneeling there and became irritated. “Look, I’m not a princess anymore, so you really don’t need to do that. I can feed myself.”

  Alder froze for a moment, unsure of what to do, and then slowly arose and stood at attention instead.

  “Hey, can I ask you something?” Athel said, regarding him warily.

  “Of course you can.”

  “Are you happy being a househusband?”

  Alder became visibly uncomfortable, and Athel noticed him grind his teeth in anxiety.

  Athel huffed and rolled her eyes. “Is it always going to be this difficult? Okay, fine, as your matron I command you to answer.”

  Alder jolted forward, the words jumping out of him as if he had just been kicked in the back. “Would you be?” he asked.

  “Interesting,” Athel mused as she shoved a piece of egg into her mouth. “Actually, I always thought you guys had the better deal. You have your room and board paid for. You don’t have to deal with all the nonsense of politics and trade contracts. You don’t have to go to all of those awful assembly sessions. Everything is done for you. Sounds awfully quiet and peaceful to me.”

  “May I ask you something?” Alder said, barely above a whisper.

  “That depends. What?”

  “You take great pride in your swordsmanship.”

  “Well, I don’t know about that,” Athel said, swallowing the last piece of toast.

  “It’s all right, I’ve seen you fight.”

  “Okay, all right,” Athel said, picking at something stuck in her teeth. “I do.”

  “Why is that?”

  Athel rolled onto her side and twirled a lock of her auburn-red hair in her fingers. “I guess I’ve never really thought about it.”

  “In contrast,” he continued, “you are an extremely potent Treesinger, yet you take no joy in it.”

  “Well, the Forsythia family has the best instructors in the Kingdom.”

  “Right. It was all done for you. Forced upon you, even. But, your skill with the sword, however small, was something you did for yourself and so it means something to you.”

  Alder paused to take a nervous breath. “A househusband who ‘has everything done for him’ as you put it, means he is left with nothing to achieve for himself, and therefore, has no joy. All that remains is fear of punishment.”

  Athel frowned and scratched her neck. “I guess I never really considered that.”

  “That’s good,” Alder said as he gathered up the plates. “It’s better if you don’t. No matter what you have, there is always someone with less, and someone with more, so comparing yourself to others only leads to frustration.”

  “So, what are you saying?” she asked as she sat up. “People should just be happy with the way things are? No, I don’t buy that. If people just settled for what they had, nothing would ever change. You have to stand up and fight for what you want.”

  “Sometimes fighting back hurts more than giving in,” he muttered as he gathered the utensils.

  “What?”

  “Nothing. We all live in cages, some of our own making.”


  “By the tree, you’re so defeatist,” she said, throwing her arms up. “Are you like this all the time or just when you’re tired? If you’re in a cage then it’s because you choose to stay there. Nothing can hold you if you are determined to break out of it. I mean, I broke out of my cage.”

  “Did you, Miss Forsythia?”

  “Yes, of course I did.” she insisted.

  Adler nodded in a strange way, as if he disagreed but didn’t want to press the issue, and walked out of the room.

  Chapter Eight

  The Umor Pirate Guild

  Am I dreaming? Alder asked himself as he watched two young boys kneeling before an altar of living wood. The taller one was dressed in clean pressed clothing, while the younger one wore simple rags, but both of their faces were bright with the energy of youth.

  I must be really tired if I’m dreaming, Alder thought as he watched the boys pray.

  “Come on, you should be done by now,” the taller one said impatiently.

  The short one began coughing painfully and wiped the blood he spat up onto his crusty sleeve. “Just wait up,” he said without raising his head, “I’m saying an extra prayer for my bride.”

  Yes, I’d forgotten how sickly I was back then,Alder noted.

  The taller boy scoffed and shoved the smaller one aside. “You need to shut up about that. You’re not even a real Bursage. You were just sold to us to pay off your mother’s gambling debts. They’re never even going to let you carry the family name, let alone become a househusband.”

  The sickly one sat up and tried to push back, but his thin little arms only made the other boy sway as he laughed.

  “What do you think she’ll be like? Your bride, I mean,” the sickly one asked as he poured water into the offering channel.

  “I don’t care, so long as she’s nice,” the taller one admitted, adding seeds and dirt to the channel.

  “I want mine to be a perfect lady,” the sickly one said, “Refined and graceful. A leader. Someone who can overthrow those heartless Forsythians and put our family back on the throne.”