‘Cor!’
The animal’s sudden appearance made Vivian lose her footing and land hard on her already battered bottom. Embarrassed, she gathered her half-torn house robe in her hands, cursing to herself. The last thing her injured leg needed was another bash.
The rodent’s fur shifted from red to brown, its golden chameleonic eyes watching Vivian’s struggle to stand up with warm curiosity. Vivian stared back in disdain, studying the minuscule creature that gave her the jump-scare.
This would bring today’s alien encounters to two , she thought, and what a curious creature it was too.
Its fur seemed to be fluctuating between dark brown and light grey and she could have sworn she saw its sharp muzzle follow her every movement. What happened next made Vivian completely question her sanity.
‘Middling safe, yes?’
‘W— what?’
The animal’s pelt demonstratively changed as to mimic the tree’s cracked and hollow texture. Its fur was a mantle of satin-black; a black so deep and penetrating one could have easily believed it was hollowed.
But it was hollowed ! The very same hollow Vivian had earlier considered as hiding place.
‘What’s this then?’ Vivian fixed the little animal, soundlessly lamenting the loss of her marbles.
The rodent’s fur had now turned a shade of ebony.
‘What is middling doing here? Middling not belong. Middling not real. ’
Vivian was thinking along the same lines. Shape-shifting critters with respectable command of the English language were equally not licenced to exist in healthy skulls.
‘Must’ve bumped my head harder than I thought,’ she garbled aloud, brushing a smidge of dry blood off her temple. ‘Kate must’ve put something in my tea—I mean, you speak English and everything. I’m dreaming, is all. I must be.’
‘Middling not dream. Middling not mad. I understand, yes. Locked in a foreign mind a hundred cycles. Seen many a tongue, custom and lore. Lessärkinna and Sha’an’laas ,’ said the critter in a certain note of pride. ‘Understand human speech, yes? Understand middling tongue. But I speak not.’
‘What do you mean? You speak it now.’
‘I Oj’t of lesserfolk. I not word sounds like Sha’an’laas, higher beings.’
Vivian’s face continued to reveal its confusion so the creature elaborated.
‘I not speak like middling – like human. I project in thought alone.’
‘You’re – what, a telepath?’
‘I am Oj’t .’
‘You’re—wait a moment.’
Upon a closer inspection, Vivian indeed noticed the critter’s thin muzzle was not moving with sound. With understandable English so clearly ringing in her head, she must have missed such detail.
‘So the voice I’ve been hearing was yours! You told me to hide inside that tree hollow.’ Vivian pushed her fist against her forehead. ‘What am I saying? You were the tree hollow. I thought it was a trap, but it was— it was you. You disguised yourself as a hole—’
‘Not disguise. Become hole. Living hole.’
It sounded incredible to the point of lunacy. Nonetheless, Vivian made herself smaller, allowing her injured leg a moment of rest.
‘What are you then? What’s your name?’
‘Our folk no name. I simply male Kaap-inna-Valma . I simply “Hole-in-Wall”, but we not just hole. We gap, tunnel and passage. We entry where door is not. We not hole-in-wall, we window-in-world. We blend in reality. We bend reality.’
‘You are the second hole-in-the-wall that saves my life,’ said Vivian, her thoughts on Kate.
But then she remembered Kate had pushed her into the gaping hole that brought her here and she suddenly felt less melancholic.
‘But why middling need save?’ the critter voice emerged again. ‘Why Tuuk’ta’ne chasing? Middling take anything from mines?’
‘No!’ denied Vivian. A guilty thought cowered at the back of her mind as she remembered the shard of flaming metal she had dislodged from one of the quarries. Surely that small a piece would never classify as thieving. She extracted the stolen shard from her house robe pocket.
‘Well, save this little trinket…’
Five inch long, the metal shard glowed in an incandescent orange, with the fervour and luminescence of a small sun. A loud squeak exploded in her ear. At the sight of it, the animal seemed to be cowering away in fright.
‘ Middling stole Æbe’trax! ’ cried the critter. ‘ Tuuk’ta’ne smell Æbe’trax from afar. They chase and chase till thief is smashed! Middling ort not’ve taken it! Æbe’trax most secret, most dangerous. Æbe’trax forbidden— ’
But Vivian was only half-listening. To listen would have been to acknowledge she had gone mad. And yet, it explained why those freaks of nature still kept on her trail.
‘Alright, alright, I’ll ditch it.’
‘Not here! Not in forest! Else Tuuk’ta’ne burn forest to crisp!’ shrieked the critter, its fur an orange as intense as the stolen shard in Vivian’s hand. ‘Tuuk’ta’ne smell Æbe’trax on thief; smell Æbe’trax trail across forest and punish both thief and forest!’
‘I— I’m sorry I brought this upon you,’ she recoiled, dropping the orange-glowing metal on the carbonized grass and taking a few steps back. ‘I don’t want to draw these… these creatures here. I’ll— I’ll keep moving.’
‘Middling must stay, yes? Middling here for reason. Everything happen for reason. No worry about Æbe’trax . I make Æbe’trax scarce, ’ said the critter, and before Vivian could make out what was happening, the animal had hid the effervescent metal inside its thick fur.
‘Done. Tuuk’ta’ne smell Æbe’trax no more. Æbe’trax hidden in pelt, ’ said the critter, one of its tiny paws pointing at a sharp bulge in his fur. ‘My smell hide Æbe’trax smell. ’
‘Y-you are amazing, little one,’ Vivian worded in a stifled voice, her heart still pounding madly. She almost sounded embarrassed to show gratitude to something so small, but she was alive and safe because of it. ‘I’m Vivian, by the way. What’s your name?’
‘I Kaap-inna-Valma . I Hole-in-wall.’
‘So you’ve said. But that’s not a proper name.’
‘I told Vivian my kin no name. I lesser being!’
‘You need a name, though. Everything’s got a name,’ said Vivian knowingly. ‘I’ll just call you Kaap , alright? It’s pretty much the only sound I could understand—’
‘—Vivian do honour, yes. Kaap be envy of his kin—’, the critter begun happily. Nonetheless, he seemed to have remembered something terrible because the gold in his eyes filled with an ancient sadness. ‘But Kaap must not be Kaap! I lesser being. Soul of world disturbed if Kaap bare name. I hole, I just nameless hole!’
‘You’re not lesser! You’re intelligent, compassionate and—and you’re not nameless ,’ said Vivian, a sore memory playing at the back of her mind.
‘But I the scum of the world’ said Kaap earnestly, his fur a faint blue. ‘So everyone say.’
‘Listen to me, Kaap. Many people in my life tried to hurt me. They’re the scum of the world, not you. Had it not been for your help— you’re… you’re greater than most.’
Kaap looked at Vivian almost as if he regretted it.
‘You’re a proper hero, you are. And a hero must have a name,’ said Vivian. Her answer made Kaap change the colour of his fur from black to coral-pink. ‘What’s with the colours?’
‘Kaap overwhelmed. Emotion change Kaap. Don’t middlings not?’
‘Well, I… I suppose we do, yeah,’ Vivian considered. ‘We turn white when scared, red when angry, pink when embarrassed—’
‘So do Kaap. Kaap
feel everything. Learn anything,’ his tiny voice continued to flood her mind . ‘We change colour, and root, and tree. We change mountain and river. We change reality. We not just hole.’
As soon as he said it, Kaap body outwardly stretched and widened, his limbs now growing at an alarming rate. In place of a rodent, now stood a foot-tall bipedal creature which looked like a cross between a fluffy primate and a big-eared, long-nosed dwarf. Save Kaap’s thick fur, he could have passed for a human toddler; an ugly one at that.
Vivian gasped, clutching her heart. She didn’t think she could stand any more surprises.
‘H-how on earth did you—?’
‘Kaap learn from Vivian. Middling long limb,’ Kaap eyed Vivian’s uninjured leg. ‘Two long leg faster than four tiny paw,’ he now pointed at his freshly-sprouted legs, which gave the impression of having been assembled by a creator who didn’t quite know how legs should look. They had unusually large soles, seven toes and rather skinny ankles.
‘You mean you just did that because I—’
‘Kaap get idea from Vivian, yes.’
‘And why would you need legs, Kaap?’
‘To come with Vivian, of course!’ his excited voice broke into her mind. ‘With forest dead, Kaap family dead, Kaap finally leave!’
For a moment, Vivian felt the urge to refuse. Then she remembered how quickly she had landed herself in mortal danger upon arriving in this hazardous alien world, and that it had been Kaap who provided shelter.
He can turn into holes , Vivian thought to herself. He can hide himself from danger. Hide me —
But Kaap’s desperate voice blocked her last thought. ‘Kaap not survive here long. Woods gone and Kaap alone . Kaap never survive without Vivian! ’ his voice now turned to an echoing shriek, which made Vivian’s head ring. ‘Fate bring Vivian to Kaap. Vivian give Kaap name, “like a proper hero”. Now Kaap and Vivian must share path! ’
His last words had sounded so loudly in her mind it gave her a migraine.
‘Calm down, Kaap,’ said Vivian, a finger now in her ear, though it did nothing to supress the noise. The sound was, after all, only inside her mind. ‘Of course you can come,’ she said supportively, and Kaap’s fur turned coral pink again, his thick bottom lip breaking into an evident smile.
Vivian thought Kaap’s streak of dawning joy was connected to the thought of finally leaving this dead, charred forest. Who knows for how long he had been stuck in this awful place, waiting for someone to pass by? Kaap appeared to neither have the confidence nor the courage to believe he could do well on his own. Vivian was suddenly reminded of herself, determined to leave the Manor but never quite prepared to give up her safe haven.
‘ What is this place? ’
The Hole-in-the-Wall prolonged his smile, his furry, near-human features radiating with delight. ‘Kaap lesser creature and much hidden from Kaap. Kaap not learned in Alarian lore. But Kaap once heard from Shenk’shen that Weavers have answers. To them, spinning of Threads reveal many outcome. Weavers know lots. Understand Fate better than Kaap. Weavers maybe help Vivian home.’
‘Hold on… Weavers ?’ said Vivian, for the first time in earnest enthusiasm. She was no stranger to the term given her recurring dreams and waking visions. ‘Who or what exactly are these— these Weavers?’
‘Spiritual lot. Bit nasty temper,’ Kaap scratched his furry head with a very tiny nail. ‘They Alarian and they higher beings. Most unlikely thing, Weavers make likely. Weavers masters of Kaalà. Weavers reshape world. Weave Threads into fabric of reality. Some not need loom for weaving. Some weave and some unweave. Weavers clever, greater beings. Weavers answer Vivian questions.’
‘And you reckon these… Weavers would know how I— how I got here? How to get back home?’
‘When nothing certain, everything likely,’ she heard Kaap’s voice again, reverberating inside her mind. ‘Weavers can answer where Kaap cannot. Weavers have Kaalà. Weavers make Vivian leg well again.’
Vivian looked down on her crushed leg. ‘That sounds like something. Alright, so how do we find—?’
But Kaap was already ahead of her. Deflating like a punctured balloon, he had shrunk himself back into a critter. No larger than a palm, he jumped forth, climbed his way up Vivian’s hip and perched himself upon her shoulder.
‘Kaap sometime hear rovers talk of town up north,’ his small fingers pointed at a narrow path stretching along a quick-flowing creek. ‘Rovers always speak of Palmatto merchandise. Healing herbs of Solidago. Marketplace in Emergente.’
‘And you’re sure we’ll find the Weavers there?’
‘Merchants and traders, more like. Men of craft, by their plain grey garments. But Vivian no choice. Solidago closest to here and Vivian not well, not whole. Vivian need Kaalà. Vivian need medicine for leg.’
Kaap eyed Vivian’s bleeding skull and crushed leg.
‘I’ve probably looked worse,’ said Vivian, standing up with great difficulty. It was like having leaden weights strapped to her feet. ‘Hopefully, someone around these parts heard of human medicine.’
‘Oh no. Human not natural here. Not natural at all. Human called middling and human feared by those who not see. Vivian need Alarian medicine.’ Kaap’s voice droned in her head, his small paws fastened around her thickset collar. ‘Kaap take Vivian to Solidago for healing salve,’ he said kindly, before descending down Vivian’s fluffy house robe and nestling inside one of its pockets.
‘I’ll be fine. Haven’t survived a deadly plunge to have a flesh wound kill me.’
‘I see human refuse circumstance, much like Weaver, but Vivian not fully understand the meaning of path,’ the critters voice picked at her mind, this time concerned, his paws hanging onto the rim of her pocket. ‘Path and Fate knotted, entangled. Once taken, there be no undoing of path.’
‘What do you mean by that, Kaap?’
‘If Vivian walk path, path define Vivian,’ said Kaap. ‘Path take Vivian places Vivian may beg forget. But Vivian may only progress when Vivian leave place of beginning.’
In a way, Vivian understood. She was leaving Ala Spuria’s Shelter for Strays all over again, about to embrace the frightening unknown. If nothing else, Kaap had given her a name, a destination. Patricia Kate might have been many things, but she taught Vivian that a name was never just a name. It stood for having an identity, a path.
“ And to be on a path is to have purpose. ”
Every inch of Vivian’s body ached, silently protesting against the most minor of movements, but she had to push on. Wherever she was, whoever the Weavers were, she needed to find them.
‘Point the way, Kaap,’ and together they ventured ever so deeper into the woods.
*
In Vivian Amberville’s imperial bedroom, a light burnt dimly as roused voices left its walls. Lucian Blossom kept pacing the room, retracing the steps of Vivian’s fall while a guilt-ridden Kate searched the room for signs of abnormal occurrences.
‘Come now, Kate. It’s been three days. We can only fool those servants for so long. She’s probably dead anyway. Just call it quits.’
But to abandon the quest was not on Patricia Kate’s agenda. Having accidentally pushed her only friend and benefactor into the abyss, she kept faith that Vivian’s bedroom was the key to her fate. Now all she needed was to find the door that fit it.
‘Don’t get your knickers in a twist, Kate. You’re waiting for naught. What exactly are you hoping will happen?’
‘I’ve seen it!’ said Kate for an umpteenth time, looking exasperated. ‘Big bad shredded hole into empty sodding space! Look, Viv’s journal confirms it. It happened right here, in this room, and according to her notes, more than just once.’
‘What makes you think it will happen again?’
‘Don’t know if it ever will, alright? But I’m not leaving this room until it does.’
It was the third night Kate readied herself for sleep, fully clothed and booted, on Vivian Amberville’s king-sized bed. Having slept badly on the floor, in an uncomfortable sleeping-bag, it was clear why Lucian Blossom’s enthusiasm had decreased. No sign of any anomaly since Vivian’s disappearance. The hardest of all was to lie to Miles, Angus, Benoît and Ayesha that Vivian was away with “business”.
‘They won’t know we’re lying,’ said Kate, pointing at the minuscule identity chip by Vivian’s nightstand. ‘The others won’t be able to tell her whereabouts.’
Lucian cleaned his glasses. ‘Neither would we.’
Despite the odds, Kate and Lucian secured all measures to ensure no anomaly—if presented—would ever be missed. They took turns for bathroom-breaks, leaving one to stand guard in the bedroom at all times.
They had stockpiled large amounts of food and beverages so that none may need to leave the room at all and miss anything. They even had themselves sitting on an arsenal of cutlery: butcher knives, peeling blades, even an axe—just in case the abyss would take a crack at staring right back.
‘Viv saw someone,’ said Kate while rearranging the kitchen knives. ‘I’m not taking any chances.’
Nevertheless, while the cat stood guard, no mouse came to play. The hours passed by and the space-time fabric stood as serene and intact as ever.
‘We should’ve gone straight to the Madhads.’
‘Yes, because their hands are not full enough, what, with the Floods, the Filth and the devastating ice storms. Besides, who’d believe a Ned?’
‘They’d believe me,’ said Lucian pointing at his journalist badge, though he didn’t sound entirely convinced.
Kate fluttered her albino eyelashes. ‘Or Today’s Weekly will sack you. Either or.’
‘I should be writing articles about the halopads craze shaking the Thames. A friend of a friend, he got tasered. I should be at the ramming—’
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