Isle of Wysteria: Make Like a Tree and Leaf

by Aaron Yeager

  “If I may,” Alder began, “you must name the baby after the first thing the sacred bird does, is that correct?”

  “Yes,” Hanner said, devastated.

  “Well, the first thing the Namegiver did was to focus intently on the infant,” Alder suggested. “What is the Iberian word for focus?”

  “Strenner,” Hanner said, perking up.

  “Then the baby has been named,” Alder concluded.

  A smile slowly appeared across Hanner’s face, and he nodded in approval. Holding up the sleeping baby, he announced that the child was to be named Strenner Iacoli.

  All present clapped in approval, as much for the naming of the baby as for the opportunity to stand up after kneeling for so long. Athel slapped Alder on the shoulder approvingly and then sent him off to get fresh sheets for Hanner’s bed.

  “So, now that the Sacred Namegiver has named the baby, what do we do with the bird?” Mina asked, re-entering the room.

  Hanner smiled. “We eat it, of course.”

  * * *

  A few hours later, after receiving a stern reprimand from the hospital staff for creating an impromptu fire pit in the middle of the hospital courtyard, the crew of the Dreadnaught had a pleasant lunch of roasted Namegiver as they sat on the trimmed grass and felt the wind blow through their hair.

  The hospital was carved directly into the side of the cliff, in the beltline of the southern mountain spire. The outdoor courtyard was made by cutting directly into the cliff side to create a small, flat, open area. Athel marveled at the power of the construction golems as she tilted her head back and looked at the cliff face rising above them for thousands of feet and listened to the faint whistling the wind made as it brushed against the chiseled rock face.

  Athel took another bite of meat and nodded in satisfaction. She didn’t know how he had done it, but somehow Alder had managed to find the perfect seasonings and apply them, even though he had never prepared this kind of animal before. She decided that he had a skill that went beyond mere training, he had natural talent.

  “I must say,” Invini began as he sucked the juices gently off his thumb, “your crew has been the most pleasant surprise to me.”

  “Not at all what you imagined when you read the Navy pamphlets, eh?” Athel commented as she shielded the sun from her eyes with her hand. Mina had intentionally placed Athel and Spirea alongside the new recruit, while forcing Dr. Griffin and Odger to sit as far away from him as possible. It bothered Athel to be used as advertisement, but she appreciated not having to make awkward conversation with the ship’s doctor.

  “I must admit, I half expected you to rise and protest when they started throwing wood into the fire.”

  “The body is just a husk, a vessel,” Athel explained. “It is the spirit inside that is sacred. Destroying the body does not harm the spirit.”

  “But surely it must offend your sensibilities for others to cut down trees,” Invini posited.

  “Felling a tree without its consent corrupts the cutter, not the tree,” Athel expounded.

  “How marvelous,” Invini praised. “I would never have thought that trees had an opinion.”

  “Oh, yeah,” Athel added. “Some species are quite vocal about what they think. It can be hard to get a word in edgewise.”

  “So,” he asked, fascinated, “does this grass mind that we’re sitting on it?”

  Athel picked a piece of meat out of her teeth with her fingernail then gently ran her hand over the tips of the grass blades around them. A few brown and sickly blades grew tall and green at her touch.

  “They don’t really have an opinion one way or the other right now,” she conveyed.

  “Really? Are they disinterested or something?”

  “No, they’re just asleep. This little patch of grass is pretty isolated, and plants tend to sleep when there’s no one around to talk to.”

  “Oh, please wake them up. I’d love to hear what they have to say.”

  “I can’t do that.”

  “Really, so you have the power to talk to plants, but not to awaken them?”

  “No, I mean it would be really rude to wake them up like that.”

  “And you don’t want to make them mad,” Spirea added. “There’s nothing worse than crabby grass.”

  “Ah, I see. So, now you have piqued my curiosity. Do you talk to every plant you pass...as long as they’re awake, that is?”

  “Do you talk to every person you pass?” Athel retorted.

  “No,” he responded, a little confused.

  “Well, it’s the same for us. We’d never get anything done if we stopped to chat with every plant along the way. Besides, once you’ve struck up a conversation it can be hard to stop. Flowers, in particular, tend to be very gossipy, and once you’ve chatted with one for a while it might get offended if you don’t stop to talk to it every time you walk by after that.”

  “What about the air?” Spirea asked, obviously bored with the conversation. “What does it say when you talk to it?”

  The question seemed innocent enough, but a shadow seemed to fall across Invini’s face when it was asked. “Air doesn’t have a voice. It’s just material that reacts to the forces imposed on it.” The humorless way he responded made for an awkward moment, and Athel wondered if they had said something to offend him.

  Over at the fire pit, Alder gathered up and then began passing out some sweet potatoes that he had cooked in the coals, making sure to give the best one to Athel as he passed her.

  Invini took a bite of the sweet potato, and the shadow left him as quickly as it appeared. He smiled and thanked them for the food. “I noticed that the Wysterian male serves you,” he said cheerfully, “does that mean his magic is of a lower rank?”

  “If you call zero a rank, then yes,” Spirea commented properly between the small, precise bites she took.

  “You have to understand,” Athel said, taking a huge bite and talking with her mouth full. “We are part of the trees and they are part of us. Men, however, are completely separate creatures. They can’t be taught tree-singing any more than a dog can be taught to breathe water.”

  “So, how is everything going over here?” Mina asked as she walked over and knelt down, her long white tail wrapping around her knees. “We didn’t know it when we took him on, but we managed to get one of the best ship’s cooks in the whole Navy.”

  “It was delicious,” Invini smiled as he stood up. “Please excuse me while I find a restroom.”

  The three young women watched him as he walked off. Then, as soon as he was out of earshot, they huddled together and began talking about him.

  “He’s pretty cute, don’t you think?” Mina purred.

  “If you think he’s cute, why don’t you parade yourself in front of him?” Spirea quipped.

  “Because I’m already married, sweetie, so I’m thinking that you two should take him out to dinner this evening. Wear something short, low-cut, backless, and strapless.”

  “I don’t even own anything like that,” Athel corrected.

  “Then I’ll lend you some of mine,” Mina gushed, picking a stray leaf out of her tail. “You need to understand that every ship in the area is pining for this kid, so we can’t afford to hold back if we want him on our crew.”

  Athel rolled her light brown eyes and caught a glimpse of Alder as he worked over the fire pit. He was pouring water over the coals with his good hand as he raked them with the side of his boot, quietly praying thanks to the departed spirits in the timber as he prepared to cover the pit up with dirt.

  He still hasn’t eaten, she thought as she looked at him. The idea of going out to a nice dinner seemed like fun, but the idea of doing it with Invini just felt wrong to her, although she couldn’t imagine why.

  “Okay then,” Spirea said, interrupting Athel’s train of thought. “If we’re going to do this for you, first answer me a question I’ve been meaning to ask you.”

  “Sure, anything,” Mina reassured. “We have no secrets on
this ship.”

  “Back on Iea, we broke the Captain out of jail to convince the Umor Guild that we were real fugitives, but you’ve never told us what he was in jail for in the first place.”

  “Okay,” Mina said, clapping her hands together and standing up, “I’m gonna’ take one of these sweet potatoes up to Hanner in his room.”

  “But, you still haven’t answered my question!” Spirea insisted.

  “I’ll talk to some of the hospital staff and find out what the best restaurants are in the area,” Mina said as she walked off. “With any luck they’ll still have some openings to take reservations.”

  “Hey, don’t ignore me,” Spirea called out as she got up and followed Mina out of the courtyard.

  * * *

  A few hours later, Athel walked a couple blocks out of her way to stop by I Luv Wysteria before she went to the restaurant. She had conveniently spilled tomato juice onto the outfit that Mina had lent her for the occasion, which had nearly transparent fabric and matching undergarments that Athel thought looked more like eye patches than clothing. Instead, she wore a much more modest but flattering emerald green silk knee-length dress that complemented her red auburn hair wonderfully. On Thesda, a woman could tell how successfully she presented herself by the number of men that approached her as she walked down the street. Athel had lost count at around seven, so her spirits were as high as her boots, picked earlier to match the color of her dress, which clicked happily as she walked down the street.

  “What can I do for a beautiful lady?” A young freckled man said as he approached her, which was the traditional phrase when approaching someone romantically.

  “Win me a prize on that accolade,” Athel said, lowering her voice down an octave to sound extra sultry. The young man’s eyes widened in elation and he sped off toward the accolade, completely failing to notice that Athel had continued walking down the street instead of waiting to see his results.

  The sultry voice works every time, Athel thought to herself, a playful smile crossing her painted lips. It wasn’t that Athel didn’t find men attractive; it was more that she couldn’t take them seriously. To her, they were like small children pretending to be adults. A man could not simply be physically strong, although that was certainly necessary in her estimation. He had to have inner strength. A will that could not be easily bent. Conviction. She supposed that it was the lack of these qualities in most men that made them seem so immature to her.

  Or maybe, she concluded, I’ve just been spoiled by Privet.

  Athel sighed as she rounded the corner. She hated it when she caught herself daydreaming about him. Ever since her mother had basically stated her approval of him, the thought had taken root in the back of her mind and just wouldn’t let go. She would think about how her life might have been different if she had just been more open with her mother. Privet would have been the one sent along with her when she joined the Navy. She would imagine the fun they might have had and then would feel embarrassed for her schoolgirl musings. It made her feel immature, but she just couldn’t help herself.

  The plaza was a flurry of activity as Athel walked out into it. Giant construction golems worked tirelessly to repair the damage from yesterday’s battle. Four powerful legs sprouted from the base of their torso, the three toes on each foot gripping the ground for stability as the hunched upper sections scooped and reshaped the ground and buildings. They were eerily quiet as they worked, and Athel shuddered to think what the military capacity of such creations would be if they were ever applied that way.

  Athel smiled at the few Thesdan workers as she passed them. Although they nodded back, their attention remained wholly focused on directing and motivating the construction golems. They would hold out their fingers before them, twitching them up and down, as if pulling marionette strings, and humming quietly to themselves.

  One corner of the Wysterian curio shop had been crushed to the ground, leaving the rest of the building severely skewed. As Athel approached, she noticed that all the windows had been nailed over with wooden boards, and rubble in front of the entrance had not yet been cleared away.

  “I’m afraid the store’s closed,” said an overweight man with a gray mustache as he nailed the last board into place.

  “I’m not here for business,” Athel called up to him. “I left my purse in here yesterday, and I just need to get it back.”

  “I’m afraid I can’t let you in there without a say-so from the owner,” he replied as he descended his wooden ladder.

  “I’m sorry, but I can’t wait a couple of days until the store is fixed, I need my purse for tonight.”

  “Store isn’t being fixed,” he mentioned, wiping off his face with a rag. Store’s closed.”

  “Why would she close the store?” Athel asked out loud. “She said this was the best advertising she’d ever had.”

  The man stretched his neck, and Athel noticed the tag with his name on it. Athel grinned wickedly and realized that she was going about this the wrong way.

  “Look, Talcim,” she said, using her soft sultry tones. “I don’t want to make any trouble for you; I just need to get my purse back. Would you please go in and get it for me?”

  “Can’t do it,” Talcim grunted, pulling out his dinner-box. “Can’t go in there without a say-so from the owner.”

  I guess I’ll have to try harder. I’ve been saving this move for a special occasion.

  Athel hooded her beautiful light brown eyes and stretched, emphasizing her ample curves, and let out a sweet sigh. “But, I don’t know where the owner lives. Maybe you could call her for me; I’m sure she’d let me in if we just asked her,” Athel said, biting one of her painted nails seductively.

  Talcim watched her blankly, then opened his dinner box and took a bite out of his sandwich.

  “Afraid no one can find her.”

  What is this guy, a eunuch?

  “Oh, I’m sure that a gentleman like you could find out how to contact her,” Athel purred, gently biting her lower lip.

  “Owner’s dead,” Talcim said, slurping down a sardine.

  “What do you mean, dead?” Athel asked, returning to her normal voice.

  “Whole bunch of Eiria attacked all over yesterday. Lots of people scooped up and taken off. Owner lady was one of ‘em.”

  “No, you see, I was with her yesterday. She was fine when the Eiria was restrained.”

  Talcim shrugged and took a bite of apricot. Athel thought for a moment, then turned and walked away purposefully.

  “Like I’m gonna’ break the rules just ‘cause you bat your eyelashes at me,” Talcim grumbled to himself as watched her walk away. “Women are just like children.”

  The rubble in front of the entrance stirred, and a large piece of masonry was hefted away from beneath as a small cute golem with blonde, curly hair poked its head up.

  “Free sample?” it asked Talcim pleasantly, holding up a smashed and ruined tray.

  Chapter Twenty One

  Puzzles in the Dark

  Spirea felt like a complete fool as she sat at her table at the Vorshop, one of the nicest restaurants in the Plantim District. The soft melodies of the live music could not distract her from the eyes she could feel staring at her from all parts of the room. Although she had gotten used to the short skirt on her Navy Uniform, the dress Mina had given her was ridiculously short, closer to a belt than a skirt, and she wished the tables in this restaurant had been decorated with long tablecloths to hide her exposed legs.

  “What can I do for a beautiful lady?” a dashing man asked, tapping his index finger on the empty chair before her.

  “Get lost,” Spirea said coldly.

  “I’m sorry?”

  “No,” Spirea hushed, “don’t speak, just turn around and walk away.”

  The man slowly turned away, dumbfounded, and walked back over to his group of male friends, who quietly laughed and jeered at his expense.

  “I love the way you handle the local customs,” Invini chuckle
d as he returned to the table and took his seat.

  “You saw that?” Spirea asked.

  “Saw it? I had to stand around for nearly ten minutes waiting for someone to try it. I was about to give up when he came over.”

  “So, you were just waiting around while I sat here by myself?” Spirea asked, her anger rising.

  “Just wonderful,” Invini praised, smiling warmly and adjusting the ascot that accentuated his ruffled jacket. “I can tell I’m going to enjoy being around you.”

  After they had ordered their food, Invini began speaking of his family and homeland. Spirea didn’t hear a word of it, although she made a point to nod and make reassuring noises occasionally. It was a trick she had picked up from her older sister. Most people don’t want conversation, they just want to monologue and occasionally hear reassuring things like ‘really?’ ‘That’s interesting,’ and ‘You don’t say?’ It occurred to Spirea that a discreet voice-stone recording of such phrases might sell really well in the market districts.

  “So, why are you here with me tonight?” Invini asked. The pause after the question knocked Spirea out of her trance, and it took a second for her brain to rewind and figure out what he had asked her. For a second, she considered lying to him, but that idea died as quickly as it had sprung up.

  “I’m here because my salary is compost, and my C.O. promised me a raise if I convinced you to join our crew.”

  Invini smiled, and she could tell that he enjoyed her candor. “How wonderful,” he grinned. “You know, the crews of seventeen ships have approached me in the last few days, and that is the first honest answer anyone has given me.”

  “The truth is,” Spirea added, feeling encouraged, “I’m not attracted to you at all.”

  “Well, let’s not go too far,” Invini cautioned swirling his wineglass in his hand. “Oversharing spoils the mood.”

  “Oh, I mean, the truth is that I’m having trouble remembering why I’m here.”

  “Ah, see, that’s much better. That one I can interpret to mean that you are stunned by my presence and pleasure is beginning to mix in with business and the two become indistinguishable.”