A Broken Paradise (The Windows of Heaven Book 3)

by Powderly Jr. , K. G.

  “What about the thousand or more innocents crushed under that Colossus? If you don’t talk to the inquisitors, I will!”

  “If you press this foolishness, I will divorce you.”

  “Is that all?” She laughed. “If that’s the case, I think I’ll move my things up to Q’Enukki’s Retreat tonight.”

  “What?”

  She shook her head. “You’ve just convinced me that Sutara’s right.”

  T

  iva shrieked at Khumi, as he made for their tree-house ladder-exit, “I swear you love that stupid whore of boat more than me!”

  He turned, and looked as if he might actually strike her. Instead, he yelled, “Don’t be such a toad-wench! I came home for the meal today ‘cause I wanted to be with you special, and all I get is an hour of whining!”

  Tiva snorted. “‘You wanted to be with me special!’ You mean ya wanted to speed-moss me so you can get back before that kapar goop dries!”

  “You’re turning into such a shrew! I mean, who are you, nowadays, anyway? Not the girl I fell in love with! I give you the best house in all Akh’Uzan, keep you fed—which, by the way, you look a bit overfed…”

  “Overfed!” she screeched, tears streaming. “Look who’s talking about not being the same! At least I still…”

  He roared right over her, “…and I load you with enough wine and buttons to keep anybody happy! Are you grateful? No! I work hard for you! But I’m not gonna boo-hoo myself over your stinky moods anymore!”

  “Do you think it’s the wine, food, and seers’ buttons, or even this house I want? No, you stump-head! It’s you, Khumi! I want you! Though why, I don’t know, since you think I’m such a fat pig!”

  “I didn’t say fat! Just a little overfed—very little!”

  “Oh wonderful, I’m so grateful! He doesn’t think I’m a fat pig—just a little overfed! Why don’t you just go back to that big fat bynt crammed inside that drydock of yours, and see if she can do for you like I do!”

  “Fine, I will!” Khumi said, before her innuendo must have sunk in.

  Tiva ran upstairs to the reading room, and bawled with her head down on the scroll table, soaking the copy of Q’Enukki’s Fifth she had been picking at off and on since T’Qinna had started visiting. Through a teary-eyed mist, she could see the parchment racks, distant and unreal, while up close, the fortress of her inner world crumbled into a howling void.

  How long Tiva slumped over the scroll, she did not know. The waterworks eventually slowed to a snuffing trickle. She had barely finished wiping her eyes when a loud knock came from the bottom level door. She didn’t really want to see anybody, but maybe Khumi had forgotten his amulet-key, and had returned to make up with her. Bad as the fights were, the making up in the moss was sometimes almost worth it—sometimes.

  Tiva trudged down to greet the caller before whoever-it-was decided nobody was home. She flung the door wide to stare into the face of the last person she had expected—someone she had not spoken to in many years.

  More surprising than the caller, were her clothes.

  “Tsulia?” Tiva said, not sure she could believe her childhood friend would wear something so likely to incite a riot in the valley.

  A silky single-strand wrap of the latest style from Met’U-say’El entwined Tsuli’s figure like a glistening snake. She spun around, wavy black hair flying, to model the new outfit. Then she giggled, and admitted herself into Tiva’s social room.

  “Tsuli! What are you doing here? Aren’t you still in academy?”

  “I finally got the courage to do it!”

  “Do what?”

  “They made me do it, really—left me no choice.” The visitor looked like Tsuli, and talked with Tsuli’s voice, but she didn’t move like Tiva’s old friend. This Tsulia paced like a wild sphinx, unafraid, right up into Tiva’s face when she spoke. It was as if some perverse deity had stolen Farsa’s personality, poured it into Tsulia’s body, and amplified it seven times.

  “Made you do what?”

  “I broke off my marriage to that priest my father had me hooked up to.” Her words bubbled like a cauldron as she spun, her hands up in the air like a fire dancer. “You remember what you said the evening you ran away—about not wanting to marry some skunky priest who would make my life a living Under-world for nine-hundred years? Well, you were right.”

  “I was?”

  “Absolutely go to! I met this wonderful guy at the market place the other day, and we really connected! He lives up at Grove Hollow.”

  “I thought you were suspicious of the Hollow?” Tiva said—almost tempted to tell her that she should be.

  “I was a little girl, Tiva!”

  “What happened?”

  Tsuli put her hands on Tiva’s shoulders, and practically forced her down onto a throw-cushion. “I guess it started last year. The new academy matron—you don’t know her, she took over after you left—summoned me to her chambers. I thought I was in trouble or something, but she sat me down, and talked to me real nice. She told me she’d been watching how I behaved around the other girls—said I was too shy and afraid of stuff. I told her I’d try to do better, but she just smiled, and said that I didn’t have to do anything, and that I wasn’t being scolded or nothing. Instead she gave me a vial of the new Girl’s Elixir, and told me to come by twice a week for more.”

  “A new Girl’s Elixir? What about the one they gave you before?”

  “This one’s flaming better! I feel all vulpy and in control! I’ve watched the Hollow be good to you over the years. Don’t think I haven’t wandered up here now and then to check out this house of yours. My father can’t even boast such a mansion!”

  Tiva wished she could get some of that new elixir. But academy was only for maidens, not wives. “Why didn’t you come visit me?”

  Tsuli shrugged. “Still an ultra-Orthy girl, I guess. I’m sorry. Change takes time. I only broke ties today. The chunkiest thing is that I can still finish academy if I want—you don’t have to live at your father’s house any more. The Archon’s issued a universal tuition waiver for girls.”

  “Go to! Really? What if you’re married?”

  “That rule still goes, unfortunately—not ‘cause of the academy marms, but ‘cause of your pahp and the Orthy priests.”

  “Figures. So, how did breaking the ties go?”

  Tsulia jumped up and twirled again, landing in a squat. Her heavily painted eyes narrowed. “I put on this outfit, and strutted myself right in front of my intended’s house, and shouted, ‘This is what you won’t be getting!’ right in his face. Vulpin’ yeah! Then I ran off with Moon-chaser…”

  “Moon-chaser! Tsuli, honey, I hate to tell you, but don’t you know about him and Sariya? They’ve been together off-and-on a long time.”

  Tsulia giggled. “Old news, girl! Didn’t you hear? Moon found Sariya in the moss with one of them vulpin’ Witchy Girls. Eww! Big fight they had! Moon has his things, but he didn’t deserve that! Anyway, latest word says they’re still friends and all, but you know how that goes…”

  “Well, it’s good to see you.” Tiva smiled, and remembered all the times Tsuli had unknowingly kept the Darkness away.

  Tsulia said, “I asked Moon-chaser about you. He told me you’ve been in some kind of scatty mud-furrow lately. What’s wrong?”

  Tiva sighed. “Nothing, Tsuli. There’s really nothing anyone can do.”

  “Then why not come with me up to the Hollow, and get your mind off it? There’s a new music trio up there, fresh in from Erdu—Moon-chaser and their leader go back a bit. They’re really different—vulpin’ wild—but you’ve got to hear them to believe it.”

  Tiva wondered how much her old friend knew about the Wisdom Tree, and the strange happenings associated with her new soul mate. She decided she’d better go with Tsuli, for her own peace of mind.

  Late afternoon golds deepened to a rosy sheen just as they arrived at the Hollow. Some Youngbloods gathered wood and underbrush for the bonfire, whil
e a strange trio set up their drums, and laid out a wide array of stringed and woodwind instruments within easy reach.

  The leader of the musicians wore a red minstrel’s cloak that clung to his towering frame like a bloody shroud. Enormous jaws and a wide mouth took up most of his face, while his coarse Kushtahar brogue barked orders not only to his players, but also to the fire builders, the gathering dancers, and even Moon-chaser, once he showed up with satchels of seers’ buttons and a cart full of ale barrels. The Minstrel eyed Tiva and Tsuli as they wandered about the clearing. He winked at them and smiled, unleashing a hideously long tongue that wiggled some form of obscene invitation to them.

  Tsuli giggled, and said, “Vulpin’!”

  Tiva glared at her friend. The trashy language didn’t bother her; it was that it came from Tsulia. Or somebody who used to be Tsulia.

  They watched the Minstrel go about his work. Tiva noticed that each command the Minstrel gave came with a friendly joke or a bizarre innuendo that left his subjects laughing to the point where none of them realized that he had seized control of the entire Hollow.

  Many people arrived that Tiva did not recognize—light-skinned couples from the Khavilak Coast, red complexioned youths dressed as Sa-utarim Archonics that drank and swore like anything but—even several Lit kids whose parents probably had no idea where they were. The Lits were mostly boys, but a few girls no older than Tiva was the first time she came to the Hollow also materialized out of the forest shadows.

  Then there were the newer regulars that Tiva usually avoided. The Kissy Boys huddled near the waterfall, while the Witchy Girls, each uniformly clad in translucent black netting—with Sariya entwined among them like a trapped fly—glared at everyone with equal contempt.

  “Tsuli-bell, Tiva!” Moon-chaser called when he saw them. “Come on down front, ale, buttons, and dragonfire on me!”

  The two girls took a seat at the edge of the dance ring, while Moon-chaser doled them out two buttons apiece, and shared his bag with them. Tiva hesitated at eating the mushrooms—one had been more than enough for several years now. Today she was unsure about even that much. However, when Tsuli and Moon-chaser popped theirs, and washed them down with dragonfire, Tiva did likewise out of habit.

  The music began, and the dancers leaped in around the fire like contorted shadows hopping across a pool of hot coals.

  Tsuli was right when she had called these players “different.” Moon-chaser’s red-cloaked friend played a twenty-one-stringed lyre as if he meant to rip its strings out. His voice was angry, gravelly, but captivating, with regular interludes of melody between fits of rhythmic shouting. Tiva found herself lost in the Minstrel’s world.

  In a land-o misfits was a youngblood redded gel.

  How she found ‘er art so young was more than she would tell,

  She was much the scatty bynt a’fore the age o’ twelve,

  In the broken dragon sedge, with anyone she’d delve,

  Took eyes out on a village priest; ‘is wife a callow shrew,

  The vulpin’ little dryad, she became ‘is sumthin’ new!”

  Tiva went queasy, and for several seconds, almost threw up.

  The Minstrel’s dark eyes fastened on her as he sang, crawling over her like a pair of spiders. The mushrooms and dragonfire had begun to do their work. Tiva could hardly make herself stand, much less run home. Instead, she swayed to the music with a fake smile on her face.

  The gel took down this wise ol’ Priest, just cuz she knew she could,

  Never been refused, was she, by any men o good”

  The mob howled with laughter, while the air of Grove Hollow crackled like quickfire under this stranger’s gaze.

  Tiva hated how this invader could just enter and take up such instant kingship. But she hated his song more. Even the Hollowers would blame me for what happened with Yargat. They might cheer me on like a vulpin’ hero, but I’d still be their scatty bynt!

  Somehow, everything at Grove Hollow had suddenly changed. The dancers no longer moved with the fluid motion she remembered in Khumi. They jerked and clashed into each other with furious throes, knocking each other down, and trampling those who tried to crawl clear of the circle. Girls threw their wraps toward the Minstrel, screaming applause. Only then did Tiva notice the small ugly idol behind the musicians—a stylized wyverna dragon with leering eyes, and a long tongue.

  The music and dancing stopped. Tiva held her breath when the red-cloaked stranger swaggered forward to address his adoring throng.

  “We’re going to do one last song before we take a rest, and do some celebrating ourselves. It’s not much for dancing, so you fire sprites can sit down, and tend your bruises.”

  The audience laughed.

  “This one’s a drinking tune, so pass the skins, pass the wenches, and break out some grub for your bellies, all you howling beasts!”

  All Grove Hollow cheered again as he began to strum his instrument in bold strokes followed by his drummer and piper. Tiva’s head spun, as even she found herself amused by this new ditty:

  Rooting in the slop!

  It’s Archon Seti’s prancing sons all rooting in the slop!

  Images of her father and brother, noses to the mud with a herd of swine, filled Tiva with convulsive laughter:

  Rooting in the sludge! Yes, snorting up the skudge!

  Seer Q’Enukki’s sons all rooting in the sludge!

  It’s all a big game in a world that’s insane!

  All sons of shame in a land that’s aflame!

  Yes, rooting in the slop!

  While pretending that they’re walking out on top

  Rooting in the sludge!

  While denying that their hands’re stained with blood!

  When the song ended, Tiva stood first to give it a wobbling ovation. That was when she saw Kernui, opposite the fire, also standing and cheering.

  Everything became a bubbly mire of shapes and sounds. Tsuli and Moon-chaser led her over to meet the singer. Kernui circled their way from the other side of the roaring flames. Farsa also appeared out of nowhere.

  “Tiva,” echoed Moon-chaser, “this is Varkun. Watch out—even though you’re married, he’s still a bit of a lady’s man.”

  Again, she felt the singer’s eyes on her, and shuddered. He lifted her hand to kiss it as Moon-chaser had done long ago, only his lips were cold.

  He released her when Farsa pushed in between them. Moon-chaser’s sister kissed Varkun savagely on the mouth, as if to declare him off limits. The singer seemed to accept this with an apologetic shrug. Tiva had never seen her friend so agitated. Farsa just giggled impishly, and clung to the stranger like an amorous tree sloth as though nothing had happened.

  Tiva gave them both a dirty look, but said nothing.

  Everybody talked as if in some strange dialect that Tiva could not follow. She heard several fights break out in the background—something Moon-chaser and the other Zakes usually broke up quick. This time the scuffling grew until several knots formed around the combatants. Moon-chaser just kept chatting with Varkun and the others, oblivious.

  Tiva immediately stopped drinking, fearful that she might not be able to leave if things got too rough. That did not halt the increasing power of the mushrooms, however. This is getting bad!

  “First your disgust at Farsa’s pleasure, now you look down your nose at a little wild fun?” said the long absent inner voice of Pahn. “The forest’s a wild place, Tiva. Don’t start going all Lit on me now.”

  Oh, great! Where have you been? Tiva hadn’t heard from the sprite since her incident up at the Wisdom Tree. She hadn’t wanted to. News of the mass suicides and flying disks in Akh’Uzan that same night had spooked her.

  She turned from the others, and bumped into Kernui, who blocked her way. Her heart froze when he answered her unspoken question, “I’ve been away to make preparation. Tonight comes your full awakening.”

  Her shocked mind understood for a cold second before her heart dared. T’Qinna and the odd
suicides had caused her to doubt herself, Pahn, and her friends. Nevertheless, Tiva had still found it difficult to admit to herself that maybe U’Sumi’s wife could be completely right, and not simply out at one extreme in a range of possibilities. The suicides might have been a mere coincidence.

  “Why the deception?” Tiva asked him as her body began to go limp and fall into his arms.

  Kernui-Pahn said, “I wanted you.”

  The musicians began to play again, while dancers collided in a barely choreographed brawl around the bonfire. Kernui-Pahn held her with her head tilted upward. Tiva saw sparkling lights above the trees, while the cacophony increased. She seemed strangely detached from the terror she knew she felt on some hazy distant level. She glanced back down at the musical mayhem to avoid his eyes.

  One of the dancers picked up a Lit boy, who stood with a skin of dragonfire at the edge of the ring, and casually hurled him into the fire. The skin burst, and flammable liquid spattered all over him while he tumbled out of the circle, engulfed in flames, shrieking amid howls of laughter from the crowd. One of the other dancers nonchalantly rolled him with his foot, past the Kissy Boys, down into the waterfall pool.

  Tiva wanted to break free of Kernui’s arms, and rush down into the pool to help the unfortunate boy, but now the world spun in gyroscopic precession. After a moment, she noticed that he came up from the pool with only mild burns. Rescued only by the speed with which the second dancer had rolled him into the water and the cover of his Lit-styled clothing over so much of his body, the little fool actually laughed it off, and grabbed another dragonfire skin!

  Everything spun faster into a vortex of colors, as the music and dance grew more clamorous. The lights above the trees coalesced into a single shining disk of blue metallic flame, under which stood Varkun with his red cloak turned royal purple in the sapphire glow.

  Suddenly Kernui’s arms around Tiva were no longer flesh-toned but polypy, gray, and phosphorescent. She dared not look up at his face, but scrolled her eyes around at the mob and the musicians.