Isle of Wysteria: Make Like a Tree and Leaf

by Aaron Yeager

  “Don’t say it, show it,” Ryin corrected without sitting up, holding out his hand for payment. Alder nodded to Bunni, who had been sitting happily on the edge of the counter, swinging her tiny legs and humming to herself. Noticing his command, she skipped over to Ryin and placed a small delicate crescent roll in his hand. Ryin smiled and began to devour the flaky treat as he walked out of the galley.

  “Don’t worry, Bunni will cast the spell for you,” the small doll said as she lifted up the ladle and began to make squeaking noises in approximation of the chant she had overheard.

  “I appreciate your energy, Miss Bunni,” Alder said kindly, “but you are wasting your time. Golems can’t do magic.”

  Bunni stopped and tilted her tiny head sideways, as if considering something.

  “Does that mean you’re a golem too?” she asked, brushing a golden lock of curls away from her cute face.

  Before Alder could answer, Captain Evere entered the room. His shoulders were stooped and he dragged his feet. It was painfully obvious that he was not looking forward to today’s lesson.

  “Your enthusiasm seems to wane more each time we do this,” Alder observed as he prepared a cup of tea for his reluctant instructor.

  Captain Evere snatched the tea and threw it down his throat without tasting it. The black orbs in his eye sockets rolled back and forth, and he let out a moan as if he was about to die.

  “It’s just that you’re not getting it, boy,” he said at last. Mina followed him in and began rubbing her husband’s shoulders sympathetically.

  “Ah, try and give him a little credit, sweetie,” she urged. “We made some real progress yesterday. Perhaps we’ve ascended a ratline.”

  “Yeah,” Bunni added, jumping up and down, “yesterday he didn’t fall and tear your dress.”

  “That only happened once,” Alder defended as he stood up straight and walked over to Mina formally. She greeted his bow with a nod and a curtsey.

  “I can’t tell you what an honor it is to finally meet you, my Duchess,” Alder said sincerely as he took her hand.

  “Gah!” Evere yelled, throwing up his hands. “You’re still doing it.” Evere thundered over and shoved Alder to one side. “This woman gets a thousand compliments a minute. You have to say it as if you don’t mean it.” Evere took Mina’s hand and repeated the words, but with a barely suppressed air of discontent and boredom.

  “But won’t that offend her?” Alder asked, rubbing his elbow as he rose to his feet.

  “Of course it will,” Evere insisted. “That’s the whole point. For a woman who receives nothing but praise, the only thing that will catch her attention is a mild insult.”

  “Remember, sweetie, you want to partially ignore her and subtly insult her,” Mina instructed. “That will not only catch her interest, but will make her instinctively want to do something so that you’ll praise her like all the others.”

  “When one runs, the other must pursue,” Bunni repeated in her high voice as she strapped a pair of sponges onto her feet like skates.

  Alder took his place and made another attempt. Taking Mina’s hand in his right, he scratched his pointed ear with his left and said, “I was told that the Duchess was quite beautiful. Apparently I was lied to. Could you please fetch me another glass of wine when you make your next trip to the kitchen?”

  Evere put his face in his hands while Mina pulled her hand back and pretended to slap Alder across the cheek.

  “So I did better that time?” Alder asked, expecting praise.

  “No, that was way too far,” Mina purred, her ears twitching.

  “And why would you assume she was a servant?” Captain Evere criticized. “Are guests normally introduced to the waiting staff at formal events?”

  “Well, no,” Alder admitted.

  “Alder can’t dooo it, Alder can’t dooooo it,” Bunni sang to herself as she slid across the deck, scrubbing it as she skated along.

  “Then why would you say that, boy?” Evere asked, rubbing his temples with his fingers.

  “You said insult her, and I could think of nothing more insulting than to be treated like a servant,” Alder admitted quietly, trying to hide the resentment in his eyes.

  “Okay, let’s work a little more on your performance,” Evere said, trying to be constructive as he took Alder’s place again before Mina. “Don’t act bored, be bored, do you understand? Don’t tell your body to let off signals that you are bored, just feel it and your body will show it much more naturally.”

  Alder watched the captain curiously as he repeated the lines, appearing wholly more natural and convincing than Alder had. Mina applauded her husband with a grin, and encouraged him to take a bow as Bunni skated by happily.

  “What’s the matter?” Evere asked, noticing the strange way Alder was looking at him.

  “It just feels a little weird to be getting acting advice from a pirate,” Alder admitted.

  “Ex-pirate,” Evere corrected.

  “Right, so where does an ex-pirate learn stage techniques, anyway?” he asked as he prepared to try again.

  “Didn’t I ever tell ya’?” Evere asked as he sat down heavily in a chair, causing the wood to creak. “Before the Umor Guild took me as a slave, I was part of the family drama troupe.”

  Alder moved to take Mina’s hand, but the revelation stopped him in his tracks.

  “Pardon me. Am I to understand that you are both an ex-pirate and an ex-thespian?”

  Evere removed his hat and bowed theatrically in his chair.

  “He’s also ran a daycare center and has been a public accountant,” Mina admitted. Alder could only stare in stunned silence.

  “Don’t try to think about it too much, honey, it’ll give you a headache.”

  Before Alder could comment further, Margaret entered the room and announced that Dr. Griffin had finished preparations for the spell. She was wearing something that reminded Alder of depictions of ancient Advan Shamans. Scented flowers had been woven together by the stems to make sweet-smelling bracelets that she wore around her ankles and wrists, and several lengths of palm leaves had been fashioned together to make a kind of skirt. Her midsection was exposed, and she wore a kind of cowl over her shoulders and head made from hundreds of small Accuta seeds woven together, the small hooks of the seeds interlocking in a way that almost resembled chain mail.

  Alder thought it looked ridiculous as he followed her, but, as usual, declined to say so. This decision was reinforced once they entered the cargo hold, and he saw that Athel was dressed the same way.

  The cargo crates had been redistributed to leave an empty space in the middle of the floor, upon which had been scrawled intricate pictographs with some kind of chalk. Complex runes worked their way out from the center of the drawing, although Alder could not guess at what they said or even which language they were written in. At various points along the pathways were smaller circles upon which were placed clay bowls containing different food items, such as shellfish, mango, and sausage. Alder mentally noted that this must have been where some of his stores had been disappearing to as he was led to the center of the circle, where Dr. Griffin stood with a wry smile on his face.

  At Dr. Griffin's command, Margaret and Athel began dancing around the edges of the circle, while the other members of the crew, except for Odger, watched from a safe distance. Dr. Griffin began explaining the processes by which he had made this potion and the effects it was expected to have, but Alder’s attention was drawn to Athel as she danced around the edge of the summoning circle. The dance was simple and primal, harkening back to stories of ancient times when the earliest magic were performed. Although she had obviously only learned the dance within the last few days, Athel performed with all the confidence of an expert. She had a grace and strength about her that could not be ignored, and the costume she wore accentuated her youthful beauty in a way that he was unaccustomed to seeing.

  She's beautiful,he thought to himself. Alder felt a strange sensation. It frighten
ed him so much at first that he backed away from it, preventing his mind from analyzing it.

  Did I just forget to breathe?He took a breath to relax himself as he watched her dance, and realized that what he was feeling was a longing. A longing to be near her, to care for her, to make her happy.

  Could I really be...

  “...the effects should last for a total of 26 hours,” Dr. Griffin explained, his voice jolting Alder away from his thoughts. Realizing that he had been blushing, Alder focused his attention on the remainder of the ceremony.

  “You may also experience some slight skin irritation and loss of appetite,” Dr. Griffin explained, “but I would not worry about that unless you also experience a loss of vision for more than two hours, at which point you should see an experienced physician immediately.”

  “Like you?” Alder asked, taking the clay bowl hesitantly.

  “Um, yeah, of course I meant me,” he backpedaled, trying to sound as convincing as possible. Alder looked down into the bowl, which was filled with a lumpy green liquid that bubbled slightly as he agitated it from side to side. It was only then that Alder realized with horror that he would have to drink the horrible concoction.

  Alder looked up at Dr. Griffin, as though to ask if there was any other way, but Dr. Griffin only grabbed the lip of the bowl and tipped the potion into Alder’s mouth. Alder swallowed three large mouthfuls before coming up for air. The crew looked on expectantly, but to their surprise Alder’s countenance became cheerful.

  “It tastes really good,” Alder admitted, “like lime cordial.”

  “Well, of course,” Dr. Griffin huffed as he watched Alder drink down the rest. “Why would you assume it would taste bad?”

  “Okay,” Alder said as he finished, fighting the urge to lick the edges of the bowl. “What is the next step?”

  “That’s it,” Dr. Griffin said, taking the bowl from him and wiping it down with a rag. “All you do is drink it. Why?”

  “Nothing, it’s just that I thought there would be more to it than that,” Alder admitted.

  “Nope,” Dr. Griffin mentioned as he cleaned out the bowl, “you just drink it.”

  “Wait a minute,” Athel said as she approached. “What about redecorating the cargo bay, and making us dance in these crazy outfits? I thought that was part of the spell?”

  “No,” Dr. Griffin confessed, “I just wanted to see if you would actually do it.”

  Margaret blushed uncontrollably and had to leave the room, while Athel screamed and threw herself on top of the old man, punching him with closed fists. Rather than fighting back, Dr. Griffin began howling in pleasure, pleading for Athel to hit him harder and faster. Finally she stopped hitting him out of pure disgust and stomped out of the room as he begged her to return and hit him some more.

  Adjusting his uniform, Alder stood up straight and asked, “Well, Miss Mina, do I seem any different to you?” Mina looked him over then politely shook her head negatively.

  “Well, of course he wouldn’t,” Dr. Griffin explained as he rose to his feet and wiped some blood from the corner of his mouth. “The spell is designed to only work on the Duchess herself.”

  “Land-ho!” came the call from Odger through the voice pipes, and everyone scurried up the ladders to the top deck to see the sights now that they had arrived at Stretis.

  Stretis was a beautiful kingdom to behold. The land rose up out of the violent oceans like a great flat mesa of gray mottled stone, upon which sat cities of tall towers and illuminated balconies. The sun had already set by the time Alder reached the deck, and the view nearly took his breath away. From the tops of the lighted towers, manmade waterfalls fell like strands of long white hair waving gently and almost imperceptibly in the cool evening air. All around them, thousands of golden airships sailed, filling the sky with nearly as much golden light as came from the city below.

  They were still quite a ways off, but Alder could make out tiny specks along the edges of the balconies. When some of them moved, he realized that they were people, meaning that the balconies were far larger and taller than even he had supposed at first glance.

  “The group of twelve towers off to the left is the center of Celecard, the old capital of Stretis,” Margaret explained as she walked up on deck, fastening the last few buttons on her Navy uniform. “Specially gifted Stormcallers called Binders create permanent flows of wind that travel up the center of the towers, drawing up water from the underground aquifers at the foundations to the top of the towers, where they cascade back down as waterfalls and marble canals return the water to the aquifers below. Celecard is one of the three founding cities of the League of Kingdoms, and the original charter papers are preserved within the Imperial Palace to the North. Guided tours are available at both noon and two o’clock on normal business days.”

  “Wait, that sounded awfully rehearsed,” Ryin critiqued. “Did you memorize the tour guide brochure or something?”

  “Kind of,” Margaret explained. “I used to be a tour guide here.”

  “Used to be?”

  “Yes,” she sighed. “I got fired after I sent this nice elderly couple to the red light district by mistake.”

  “They have a red light district?” Ryin asked, brightening up. He leaned forward over the railing and strained with his eyes. “When you’ve slept with as many women as I have, you develop an appreciation for such things. Where is it?”

  “I don’t remember,” Margaret shrugged, adjusting her glasses. “If I knew where it was I wouldn’t have sent them there.”

  * * *

  Erin Strenlan had read once that the people of Mesda had seventy words to describe the different kinds of ice and snow that ceaselessly fell on their small frozen kingdom; one word for thick puffy snow that stuck to trees, another for wetter, slushier snow that clogged your boots, and another for the thin sharp snow that stung your skin when it touched you. It often struck her as odd that they had come up with such a round number. Not seventy-three or sixty-one, but seventy exactly. In Mesdan Mythology, there were seventy saints that could be prayed to, and seventy martyrs at the beginning of their current dynasty. It was such an odd coincidence that it seemed to her that there must have been a council at one point that had set seventy as a target number, and then either artificially inflated the number of words for snow in the Mesdan language, or cut a few out. Despite her research into the matter, she had never successfully found any evidence of such a council, but that didn’t stop her from believing that such a council had at one time existed. Coincidentally, the ambassador from Mesda before her had just turned seventy, and was very self-conscious about it.

  He approached Erin and bowed deeply, simultaneously wrapping his long gray tail around his knees, as was their custom. Since this was her mother-in-law Karie’s birthday party, Erin was thirteenth in the line to greet guests, so it pleased her that he showed the same formality to her as he had done to the first people in line. So she decided to reward him for his efforts.

  “Ambassador Neniwota,” Erin said politely as she bowed in return, “I believe the room is seventy times as bright when you and your wife are present.”

  Her comment made him pause for a moment, and inside she squealed in delight to see him wonder what it was she meant, although her exterior was all the calm politeness expected of her position. Neniwota stepped to his right and continued down the line, greeting Erin’s cousin, Presta. It became Erin’s turn to greet his wife, whose name Erin had never bothered to learn, since he acquired a new one every year or so. It seemed to Erin that each new wife was younger than the last. This latest one seemed young enough to be her little sister. Although she smiled warmly as she greeted her, Erin could sense strongly that the woman wanted very much to sit down and take off her uncomfortable shoes.

  Erin hugged her kindly and whispered in her ear as they embraced, “I prefer floor-length gowns, because you can take off your shoes without anyone noticing.” Neniwota’s wife shot up in shock, her tall furry ears twitching, but qui
ckly regained her composure, which pleased Erin so much that a small squeak actually escaped out of the corner of her otherwise complacent mouth.

  Erin allowed herself a quick sideways glance to see how many guests still waited in line and was disappointed to see nearly a hundred to go. The next in line was a local, Petros Hilianos from the Hilianos shipping conglomerate family. Years ago she had met him at a mutual family gathering. She was happy to see that his acne had cleared up in recent years because it had been hideous to look at, like his face was made of meaty pasta. Despite his calm exterior, she could tell that more than anything else, he wanted to leave his family business and strike out on his own, starting his own business. They greeted each other warmly and a pause in the line gave them a moment for small talk.

  “I think you would be happy opening a restaurant,” Erin commented.

  “Really?” he asked, his surprise pleasing her greatly.

  “Yes,” she affirmed. “Whenever I think of you, I’ve always thought of pasta.”

  The smile left his face but he was pushed down the line before he could respond with anything more creative than, “hey,” and Erin allowed herself a brief smile.

  Petros’ brother, Heiun, wiped the smile off her face. His desires radiated off of him with a heat that absolutely drowned out everyone else around him, and it instantly put her on the defensive, because he wanted The Eye of the Storm for himself. He greeted her with a bow, but never took his eyes off of the jeweled necklace as it hung around her neck. His focus was so complete that he didn’t even notice the tiny prick on his arm as a small needle concealed in her ring pierced his skin as she patted him on the shoulder warmly. He reached out violently to grab the necklace, but he began collapsing to the floor before he even got close.

  His collapse into unconsciousness was greeted by a variety of responses by the guests at the party. Those not from Stretis high society were quite concerned at first, but seeing the calm reactions of the birthday hosts, they steadied themselves. Those who knew laughed among themselves knowingly and summoned servants to carry away the sleeping man as yet another attempt to steal The Eye had failed. Several men even exchanged currency as their various wagers regarding the success of the attempted thievery were settled.