He held his breath as a second glance told him more than he would have preferred digesting. It wasn’t a rope; it shared the light brown colour of his skin and extended from his own body. Viven’s heart skipped a beat.
It was a tail. His own tail. Someone had made a small hole in his shorts to let it out.
His hand quivering, he touched and held it. He could feel it. Although, like his legs, it didn’t respond to his will, it was possible for him to sense its being. It was a part of him as the rest of his body was.
And all this time he had never realised its existence until now. How? Viven felt stupid, and then thought it was not his fault. He had never had a tail and wasn’t accustomed to bearing one. It was obvious he had mistaken it with his legs and backside. Question was—
How did he have a tail?
Tonkeytus.
While he could not speculate a reason, he was definite that Tonkeytus, who knew magic, had used his black powers to give him a tail. And was this what he had meant by his words?
Viven gritted his teeth. As a child he had sometimes fantasised possessing a tail. But now it didn’t please him very much to have weird transformations done to his body.
Suddenly the muffled sounds of drums made Viven jerk his head and forget all about the tail. They continued to be beaten for not less than half a minute, and when they ceased, what followed was the raising of an enthusiastic song, sung in unison by what had to be a whole crowd of people:
“Grandcawk, Grandcawk,
You’re good and great;
Never have we met someone,
More clean of soul and straight!
You slew the terror,
Balloor.
All our maladies and heartaches,
You’ve always been there to cure.
Today, you’ve reached your two hundredth year,
And, praise you, we’ve no sorrows to bear.
A happy, happy birthday to you, Grandcawk!
Even we nutty people, your blessings turned brainy,
Have washed and cleaned our stinky socks!
Without you, we are nothing, we pride no existence;
You are to us all the smoothest, the wisest,
And the strongest fence.”
The song came to its ending in high tones, after which there was much cheering and merry shouts for some time. They quietened in a few minutes, and Viven wondered what kind of place it was outside the room.
He hadn’t been sure where Tonkeytus had brought them, and the song had increased his curiosity. Tonkeytus did not live alone. He had his men and Luidhor, together with the wolf-monster—Viven needn’t be told of that—but the song had had female voices too and voices that ought to belong to children.
Mustering great effort, Viven dragged himself to the door. It was closed from outside. Viven rapped hard at it two dozen times, yelling Tonkeytus’ name. Everything went in vain; that somebody was nearby outside was not possible.
His arms and throat exhausted, Viven gave up his pointless efforts and retreated to hoping. If Aunt Gina, Manu, and Dirita did not turn up all right, Viven swore, he’d smother Tonkeytus if he could. Thing was, he couldn’t, not now in his present condition, anyway.
Viven waited. It was a wait for the effects of the Paralyin, or whatever, gas to wear off in his legs; however, before the wait ripened, he heard the clatter of approaching footsteps.
Viven fisted his mad out at the door.
“GET ME OUT OF HERE! GET ME OUT OF HERE!”
A woman called out in a rushed tone.
“Viven, it’s okay. It’s me, your aunt; I’ve come to get you out.”
“Get the door open fast. I want to see him!” she told someone, and an, “Of course,” of ready agreement issued that Viven believed to be Tonkeytus.
A click of unbolting and the door opened to reveal the two of them. Lines of worry were cleaved onto Aunt Gina’s face, and she was respiring fast, her arms thrown wide as if searching; Tonkeytus was about to gesture at the bed, and then opted for the floor once he saw Viven.
They were of the same height. Aunt Gina had a tail.
“Aunt Gina!” said Viven, his astonished eyes prowling over her tail and interrogating of her unnatural short stature.
“It’s him,” said Aunt Gina, flushing red, shooting a glare at Tonkeytus. “He did it to all of us,” she added, and Viven was explained to why Tonkeytus had looked taller earlier— he himself had shrunk in height.
“It’s nothing to worry about. Your bodies will become as before once you go out of the House.” Tonkeytus sounded very obvious.
Viven stared him dead in the eye.
“Why did you bring us here, and what’s this place exactly?”
Tonkeytus opened his mouth, but it was Aunt Gina who answered, her tone pressed.
“He wants us to meet someone called Grandcawk, head of their tribe or something. He says this is their ‘House’ and that we are a great depth below ground.”
Viven exhaled, casting a pair of stern eyes at Tonkeytus.
“You ridiculed that other man, Luidhor, for thinking us of having relation with Algrad Bezon. Why did you change your mind, then, eh, and bring us here without consent?”
“I know,” said Tonkeytus. “I brought you here against your will, and I’m sorry for that. But we have something of your grandfather’s that we want to return. And, as I told you then, you look like a miniature of your grandfather; you reminded me of him. I planned of bringing you here the moment my sight fell on you. But I could not do so in front of Luidhor and the other Macacawks and hence had to fend him off and catch up with you later.”
“But why?” Viven asked. “They are your men.”
Tonkeytus furrowed his brows, as if Viven’s question was a dumb one.
“You sure know little about your own grandfather, boy.” He turned his head sideways. “And you, lady, you must know something about Algrad’s life, right? He was your uncle!”
Aunt Gina, not getting his words, had eyes dull as a vacant room. Tonkeytus pursed his lips disbelievingly, and then, after checking the annals of his memory, was able to wear an expression of understanding on his face.
“So,” he said to himself rather than Aunt Gina or Viven, “good old Algrad kept his promise. He told nobody, not even his own family about us—and still they call him traitor!”He nodded sadly to himself.
“What are you talking about?” said Viven, observing Tonkeytus.
Tonkeytus, lost in thoughts, snapped out and said, “No, no, it’s not your fault you know nothing about your grandfather’s life. We made him vow not to tell anyone about us Tropagia dwellers . . . Well, um, Algrad was a great man and was a great friend of both the Macacawks and the Potion Makers . . . well, that was until he was framed.”
“Framed?” said Aunt Gina.
“Yes,” said Tonkeytus. “Algrad was framed of murdering the then king of the Potion Makers, Brucus the first, and”—Tonkeytus paused in hesitation—“and declared a traitor.”
Viven took a breath and raised a brow. At that bubble of a moment, he told himself that Tonkeytus was either a crazy old brat who wasn’t quite in his mind right now, or many years ago someone wicked had claimed his grandfather’s identity to be his own and fooled Tonkeytus and his people.
Sarcastic as Viven was, he took it best to let Tonkeytus continue his gibberish.
“And that’s why, son, I transformed your bodies into the likes of a Macacawk with doses of a special potion. Otherwise if someone comes to know who you are, the Potion Makers would be communicated and reported. They won’t spare any mercy on you to avenge their old king.”
“All right,” said Viven, nodding approval. His anger for Tonkeytus was slowly vanishing, only to be replaced by exasperation.
“I want to see Manu and Dirita.”
“But they are unconscious,” said Tonkeytus, slightly turned down at the uninterested response. “They can’t come here.”
Viven got up to his feet. It had abruptly come to him he cou
ld control his legs again when he had moved his toes.
“Viven!” said Aunt Gina.
“I can go to them, anyway.”
Outside the room, Tonkeytus led Aunt Gina and Viven through several passages and corridors that winded often. One thing that settled in Viven’s mind was that the place was very large; what intrigued him, however, was the absence of a single soul to be seen. Where are those who sang before?
“I heard a crowd of people singing together about half an hour ago,” said Viven. “Then why is this place so empty?”
“You heard Grandcawk’s birthday song, then, didn’t you, boy?” said Tonkeytus.
“Grandcawk’s birthday song?”
“Yes, it’s his birthday today. He’s two hundred years old now. Everyone is in the hall room and feasting. That’s why nobody’s around these parts of the house.” Aunt Gina shrugged when Viven exchanged looks with her.
“I wanted to join the feast too,” continued Tonkeytus, “but your aunt revived fast, and when I went to check, she created a tantrum to see how you were.”
“Why did you keep me separate from the others in the first place?” said Viven.
“There weren’t enough beds, and I didn’t have the keys to the nearby rooms,” Tonkeytus replied. “And besides, I thought it was more secure to keep you in a more desolate sector of the House.”
When they reached the room in which Manu and Dirita were, they found that they had become conscious, though, below their necks, their bodies remained out of function. Dirita’s cat was sitting near her legs, eyes large and twinkling. Both Manu’s and Dirita’s confusion-fixed beings were relieved upon seeing Viven and Aunt Gina. But within seconds, worry and shock overcame their faces as they realised the transformations Viven and Aunt Gina had undergone, added by that Tonkeytus was with them.
It took a long time to explain to them the things they couldn’t make any heads or tails of. They could not fathom why, although they could still feel their bodies, they couldn’t move them; and when told that they too had tails, paleness seized their skins.
“It differs according to the age,” was the reply Tonkeytus gave when Viven questioned him of why Manu and Dirita were taking so long to recover from the Paralyin gas’s effects. “They’ll be as good as ever in an hour; it’s nothing to bother about.”
When Manu and Dirita recovered till their waists, Tonkeytus brought them some food that Viven ate this time, along with the others. They were suspicious that Tonkeytus might try to drug them a second time. But noon and the wild fruits might as well as have been an age ago, and the only option was to subject to hunger.
Once they finished, Tonkeytus took away the plates and, returning, informed that the grand feast was over and that Grandcawk had retired to his chamber. “Let them get well with their legs, and I’ll take you to Grandcawk, the head of us Macacawks. And you will be ever grateful I brought you here; doesn’t matter even if I played crook.”
“When will you let us go back to the forest?” Aunt Gina asked, urgency in her voice.
“Tomorrow morning—because it’s night now. I trust you know the forest is a thousand times more dangerous at night than during the day,” he added when Aunt Gina glinted fiery eyes. “And it is not desired that Algrad’s descendants should die due to our fault. It’s strange why you have come to Tropagia to begin with, though I won’t trouble you asking whatever reason that is for.”
***
Grandcawk
Viven had never seen any room as big as the great hall of the Macacawks in his entire life. An uncountable number of dinner tables and chairs were sprawled all about it. It was so clean and organised that one found it hard to believe it had, a mere short time ago, entertained a grand feast. Huge pillars supported the room’s large ceiling, from which hung numerous sparkling chandeliers. The ceiling itself, as Tonkeytus said, supported an unimaginable quantity of soil and earth, owing to the fact that the House was underground.
“We Macacawks are great builders,” Tonkeytus boasted at the marvelling of the others.
The group swept the length of the hall and reached upon a gargantuan—at least for their new sizes—oak door. Two stiff, bulky Macacawk men stood by it as guards.
“It’s me, Tonkeytus. We have an appointment with Grandcawk,” Tonkeytus said to them.
There was not the slightest change in the guards’ stony expressions.
One of them said, “Drowssap?”
“Kwacdnarg,” Tonkeytus answered, confident. The guards stepped aside, and he, with some effort, pushed the door open. They entered.
Grandcawk’s chamber was even more astounding to Viven than the Great Hall. The marble paved floor was gleaming. The shiny polished walls were inlaid with rich tapestries, and many a minutely detailed painting and coat-of-arms hung on it. On a large grand bed in the centre lay the ancient one himself, dressed in plain but expensive white robes, gold bracelets and chains adorning his bony arms and neck.
“Good old Grandcawk!”Tonkeytus addressed, making a bow. “Your son has brought you not only Algrad Bezon’s grandson, but his niece and her son as well.”
“Is it really them?” said Grandcawk, feeble but lively.
“Yes, it is, as was my promise to you.”
“Let them come closer. My eyesight is all blurry ever since I caught Blorosis that even the concoctions of the Potion Makers failed to cure. And oh, get the door closed.”
“Don't be afraid,” Tonkeytus told them as he carried out his order with the door. “Go near to him so he can see you.”
They took some uncertain steps forward. Viven was encompassed by mysticism, trying to remind himself of something over and over again he had no clue of.
Grandcawk extended a quivering hand at Viven, great fulfilment written on his face.
“You,” he said. “You are the one, aren’t you? Algrad’s grandson?”
“Yes.” Viven nodded awkwardly.
“You don’t know, son, how many dreams I have had of meeting you, and here you are, standing in front of me.”
He smiled toothily. Viven tried to smile back.
“And you, I assume, are Algrad’s niece?” Grandcawk said to Aunt Gina. “And the boy to your right is your son?”
“Yes,” Aunt Gina said in a small voice.
Grandcawk beamed at her and Manu. “What about that girl?”
“Her name is Dirita,” Aunt Gina replied. “We took her with us; her uncle abandoned her in the forest because he wanted her father’s property.”
Grandcawk winced.“People do bizarre acts to acquire wealth and property, only to leave it all behind once they die.”
A moment of silence passed as Grandcawk stared at their group, one after the other, as though trying to memorize each of their faces.
“Is it true,” Viven willed himself to ask, “that my grandfather came to this place?”
“Yes, my son,” Grandcawk replied, nodding. “And although that was over thirty years back, he was the best non-Potion Maker human I have met.”
Viven remembered something.
“But Tonkeytus said he was framed of murdering someone and declared a traitor.” He was taken when Grandcawk’s face fell and he let out a sorrowful sigh.
“Alas, yes. But it was a false conviction that the restless and agitated Potion Makers threw at your grandfather because all the conditions at the time seemed to indicate toward that conclusion. And we Macacawks could only agree, the allies of the Potion Makers as we are.
“But I never have given up on my belief at your grandfather’s innocence. He was too good a soul to commit any sin, whatever they say.”
“How did my grandfather meet your people?”
Viven turned as Tonkeytus spoke up from behind.
“We saved him from those vile demons of Canniola. He was the sole survivor. All his men fell prey to the Assur demons.”
Viven recalled Sezia’s spirit saying the same thing about demons attacking his grandfather’s party.
“And you brought him
here?”
“Yes,” said Tonkeytus earnestly. “It was the first time we had come across any non-Potion Maker human, and we were eager to know about them and their culture.”
Grandcawk mused, agreeing.
“He told us a lot about the southern side of the island. He even let us keep one of his handmade maps showing the route to your capital city via the river. We had known that your people existed before, yes, but it was only after he enlightened us with information about you that an image of your society formed in our minds.
“We were intrigued by you, but we feared of the unforeseeable outcomes that would arise once your people knew we existed. We made your grandfather vow of not uttering a word about us to your people until we allowed.”
“And so he kept quiet?” said Viven. “Because of his promise?”
“Yes,” said Grandcawk. “He was always a man true to his word . . .” He stared down at the floor as if in a reverie.
“And now,” he said, raising his eyes to Viven, “there is something . . .” He clicked his skeletal fingers, although the sound produced was unnaturally loud for them.
Viven felt himself get rigid all of a sudden. Something was queer here.
“You did something, didn’t you?” he asked Grandcawk. The latter did not respond. He didn’t even move, his hand remaining as he had clicked his fingers.
“Grandcawk?” Viven said. He tried to turn his head sideways at the others, but somehow found it impossible to shift a single muscle.
At that moment, a ring on Grandcawk’s finger glowed. A stream of light appeared from it and took the shape of a Macacawk body, complete with a tail. While Viven watched, the body of light solidified, assuming the appearance of a person and getting more and more realistic, the light flowing into it from the magical ring.
Soon a replica of Grandcawk, beaming, stood beside the actual one in front of Viven. There was the little difference that, contrary to a real person, the replica’s body was translucent, and to a certain extent, it was possible to see through it. Viven was only the slightest surprised when Grandcawk’s duplicate spoke.
The Sword of Tropagia Page 6