Pisces of Fate

by Pisces of Fate (retail) (epub)

  “Why? Does he owe you money?” A girl, older than Magnesia and Arthur but younger than some of the fillets sold in the local fish market, appeared from behind a bench. She had red hair, unlike anything either of them had seen before. Tufts of it stuck out in haphazard ponytails through gaps in the leather helmet she wore. Attached to the leather helmet with a complex wire scaffolding were dozens of spectacle lenses of varying shapes, colours, and thickness. It gave her the appearance of a spider in dire need of trifocals.

  “Yes…?” Magnesia suggested.

  “This is…really big!” Arthur continued. He moved some boxes aside and tried to look at the bird from a different angle.

  “It’s not for sale yet!” the girl called out, and turned her attention back to Magnesia. “You can’t stay here. I’m not ready yet.”

  “What is this thing? Does it have a name? Did you make it? Are there others?”

  “It’s an Emperor Pengpong. I never asked. No. I believe so,” the girl replied without diverting her frown from Magnesia.

  “I love it!” Arthur declared.

  “Would you be insulted if I said your friend was weird?” the red-headed girl asked Magnesia.

  “Of course not. He is weird. Do you know Donut Bleech?”

  “Yes, he owns the factory next door. They make cloth of different colours. Quite the alchemical process. It seems to involve a lot of steam, though. I tell you, some days I go to the market, come back with a nice selection of fresh beans and coully and by the time I’ve got inside, my vegetables are cooked.”

  “I think he is up to no good,” Magnesia declared.

  “Hardly, he’s just excited from seeing his first giant Pengpong.” The girl waved Magnesia’s suspicions away.

  “Not Arthur, Donut Bleech,” Magnesia replied.

  “Oh. Well, I wouldn’t know. I’m trying to run a business here. Or at least, I’m trying to try and run a business here.”

  “Tell me everything!” Arthur blurted, as he approached the counter.

  “Start with your name,” Magnesia suggested.

  “Leisurely Carpool,” the girl said, and executed an extravagant bow.

  “Magnesia, and that is Arthur,” Magnesia completed the intro­ductions.

  “What is this place?” Arthur asked.

  “This,” Leisurely replied with a definite tone of pride, “is my shop. Here I will sell all manner of innovative and exciting curiosities, puzzles, and indoor sporting equipment.”

  “Indoor sporting equipment?” Magnesia raised an eyebrow.

  “Indeed,” Leisurely said with the over-active enthusiasm of the true self-believer.

  “Aren’t sports normally done outside? With balls, clubs and salted fish?” Magnesia hadn’t paid much attention to the few organised events they had seen since they arrived in Errm.

  “Yes!” Leisurely beamed. “But what about those days when you are stuck inside? No room for club-ball or sissy-fish, someone could get hurt, even if you play by Quentinbury rules. My solution is to develop alternative sports. Ones that can be played indoors, by teams of two to four players. With minimal space required and no need for animal sacrifice.”

  “How does the Emperor Pengpong fit into your plans?” Arthur asked, his mind returning to the current object of his fascination.

  “My Grandfather was an explorer. The Cubits imprisoned him for blasphemy when he refused to accept that the world is a square with six sides. He travelled to places no one else has ever seen and brought things back. One of the things he brought back was this large bird. Granddad said that they grow to over eight feet tall. But that isn’t the most interesting thing.”

  “It isn’t?” Arthur asked, his eyes wide.

  “Gramps called them Emperor Pengpongs,” Leisurely cont­inued.

  “No doubt because of their stately poise and majestic countenance,” Arthur nodded.

  “Because they have no knees and cannot kneel,” Leisurely corrected him. “The really interesting thing is their eggs.”

  “Their eggs?” Magnesia looked sceptical.

  “They’re surprisingly small for such a large bird,” Leisurely explained. She rummaged under the counter and came back with a small box stuffed with straw. “These are Pengpong eggs.”

  In the box was a pile of small white spheres. Leisurely picked one up and grinned at her audience. “If you are eight feet tall, don’t have knees, and you reproduce by laying eggs—”

  “You become extinct pretty quickly?” Magnesia suggested.

  “Or you lay eggs which do this.” Leisurely dropped the egg on the countertop. It bounced off the wood, headed towards the ceiling and, as Arthur and Magnesia watched, rebounded several more times until Leisurely caught it. She presented the undamaged egg to them with a grin.

  “I have this idea for an indoor version of Club-ball in miniature. It will have a smaller net, and instead of a stone pit half a mile across, maybe a table which can be used for other things between games.”

  “Like animal sacrifice?” Magnesia asked.

  “Sure, why not?”

  “What about the clubs?” Arthur asked, picking up one of the balls before tossing it in the air and catching it again.

  “Well, they would need to be smaller too. Ratio is important,” Leisurely said, and ducked under the counter again.

  “We should probably find somewhere else to watch Donut Bleech,” Magnesia said.

  “Hang on, this is interesting,” Arthur said, missing Magnesia’s narrowed gaze.

  “I made these,” Leisurely said, popping up again. She held up two flat wooden paddles. They were missing the three-inch iron spikes Arthur had seen on regular club-ball bats, and actually looked like they could be wielded by a normal person.

  “I must try this!” Arthur blurted, and Leisurely grinned at his enthusiasm.

  “Right! You go there, I’ll hit the egg to you and you try and hit it back.” Leisurely adjusted the prism on her head and dropped the Pengpong egg towards the counter. Before it landed, she swiped at it with the flat paddle. It flew towards Arthur, he flailed with this paddle, and with a soft punk! the ball bounced off the flat side and sailed over Leisurely’s head.

  Arthur whooped in delight. “I win!”

  “Well, I haven’t decided on all the rules yet,” Leisurely said with a slight huff in her voice.

  “We really should be going,” Magnesia said.

  “If you like,” Leisurely replied, gathering up the egg from where it had landed on the floor.

  “Where are we going exactly?” Arthur asked.

  “Somewhere else,” Magnesia said in a firm tone.

  “We were supposed to be keeping an eye on Donut Bleech,” Arthur said.

  “Really?” Leisurely returned to an upright position. “What do you want with him?”

  “I think he knows something about who I am,” Magnesia said.

  “Oh…” Leisurely blinked and considered her next words carefully. “You mean, other than that you being a direct blood relative?”

  “What makes you say that?” Magnesia asked.

  “Oh, I don’t know, the white-blonde hair, the pale skin, the cold stare.”

  Arthur popped up from behind a stack of wooden crates. “She might be right,” he said.

  “Donut Bleech is gaunt, and pale, and smells like goat’s water,” Magnesia clarified.

  “Well, yes.” Leisurely adjusted her spectacles at random.

  “Leisurely is correct,” Arthur said, returning to the counter. “It’s not just that you have the same nose. You and Donut are the only two people I have ever met who have white hair and skin the colour of milk.”

  “I keep out of the sun,” Magnesia replied tersely.

  Arthur nodded sympathetically. “I don’t suppose you’ve met a Spelunker? No? Religious types. Believe th
at the sun is their God’s baleful eye staring down at them. So they live underground. Odd people. Only come out at night so, unlike you, they really stay out of the sun.”

  “What’s your point?” Magnesia challenged.

  “They are as grey as a dead man’s tongue. You’ve got more of a natural whiteness to you. If you were pale cos you never went out in the daylight, you’d look like a Spelunker.”

  “Why are you making this about me?” Magnesia said through gritted teeth.

  Arthur thought for a moment, and then said, “Because family is important. You wanted to find your family. Your real family. Now we may have. Donut Bleech could be a relative of yours. We just need to find out what kind.”

  “Even if we are related, I don’t have to like him,” Magnesia replied.

  “You hardly know the man,” Arthur said. “He might be quite nice.”

  “Sunsets are quite nice. People are usually not,” Magnesia replied.

  “There’s only one way to be sure. We have to talk to him and determine the truth,” Arthur said.

  Magnesia turned on her heel and marched towards Leisurely’s shop door. “Come on, then,” she said without looking back.

  Arthur followed her out into the street. The sun was setting now, and it did look quite nice, with the smoke and steam from the various shops and factories making clouds in the sky.

  They stepped into the warm, wet interior of Donut Bleech’s business premises. Arthur had the unpleasant feeling that this was what walking around the inside of someone else’s mouth would feel like.

  “Donut Bleech?” Magnesia called over the hiss and clank of steam and press.

  “What do you want?” Donut’s voice came through the fog.

  “Answers,” Magnesia replied, and Arthur nodded. He was after all a fan of answers, and the questions they brought with them.

  “Answers depend on the questions you ask,” Donut’s voice replied. Arthur nodded approvingly; that was one of the most profound things he had heard all day.

  Magnesia set her hands on her hips. “Very well. My first question is, are we somehow related?”

  Silence came in response. At least as near to silence as you can get in a large building filled with the slow bubble of cloth being boiled white.

  “Do you need me to repeat the question?” Magnesia asked.

  “No.” Donut Bleech appeared through the mist. It camouflaged him perfectly, being the same white as his hair, skin and clothes. “Come up to the office, I have something to show you.”

  Arthur and Magnesia followed Donut past the vats and pipes. They climbed the stairs and entered the warm, and somewhat drier, office.

  “What did you say your name was?” Donut asked.

  “Magnesia,” Magnesia replied.

  “If you are who I think you are, then I have never met you before,” Donut Bleech said. “You weren’t quite born when things went polyhedral in the city. Your mother and father were cloth makers. Weavers of some skill and high regard in the city. Your mother probably made that towel you’re carrying. During the reign of Administrator Doog, souvenirs were made illegal.”

  “So my parents were rebels?” Magnesia looked intrigued.

  “Not quite. They were my aunt and uncle. They packed up and left when it became clear that with the breakup of the SHAMPOO guild monopoly, things were going to get hairy around here.”

  “We think they may have died on the plains of the Eastern Mumpsimus. I was found and raised by goat herders,” Magnesia said.

  “Sorry to hear that.” Donut Bleech waved a hand dismissively. “Anyway, my father, your mother’s brother, took over the family business and a couple of years ago he lost his way in the fog and fell into a dye vat.”

  “He died in a dye vat?” Arthur asked.

  “He died as he had lived,” Donut Bleech said. “In Swansong Blue and Passing Yellow.”

  “I’m not sure I want to be related to you,” Magnesia announced.

  “An hour ago we weren’t related. We still might not be. You can go away and we can never speak of this again if you like.” Donut’s expression suggested that this outcome would suit him.

  “An hour ago you weren’t related…” Arthur repeated.

  “If you walk away now, I can honestly say that I don’t know where you are,” Donut continued.

  “If we walk…he will know our speed, but not our position…” Arthur agreed.

  “Does he always repeat everything he hears?” Donut asked with a frown.

  “Probably. I don’t know. He hasn’t done it before.”

  “Probably…yes…probably…” Arthur turned and, like a sleep-walker, shuffled to the office door and opened it before sprinting down the stairs and out of the factory.

  Donut watched him flee. “To be honest, I’ve worked hard to keep things going here. I’m doing quite well in the family business. But it is my family business, not yours. You can’t just walk in here and start laying claim to things.”

  “I wasn’t thinking of making any claim. I just wanted to know who I am. Where I come from.”

  “Well, now you know. Anything else I can help you with?”

  Magnesia shook her head. “I don’t think I will see you again, Mister Bleech. It’s nice to know that I have family, without actually having family.”

  Donut stared at the pale girl for a long moment. “There is one other thing.” He rummaged in his desk and pulled out a small folded cloth. “This embroidery came to me six months ago.”

  Donut carefully opened the small piece of fabric on the desk. “The words stitched into the fabric say, ‘Gustania Inflate This Domicile’.”

  “What does that mean?” Magnesia asked, peering at the fine stitching.

  “I have no idea. But I recognise that needlework. It’s your mother’s. See how she curves her kwits? It’s her signature stitch.”

  “She could have made this any time,” Magnesia said.

  “Right here, it has a date stitched into it. The Fourth Tick of Octopus. According to the Cephalpodium, that was three years ago.

  “So my mother is still alive?” Magnesia blinked in astonish­ment.

  “It would appear so.”

  “Well, goodbye, then.” Magnesia extended a hand as Donut opened his arms for a hug. They waved their arms awkwardly for a moment before stepping back.

  “Yes. Goodbye,” Donut agreed.

  Magnesia walked slowly out of the factory and looked around. Arthur was crouched on the street, drawing in the mud with a stick.

  “Arthur?”

  “It all makes sense,” Arthur said without looking up. “Reality, the nature of all things. You and Donut.”

  “Donut?” Magnesia folded her arms.

  “Yes! You see, things don’t exist until we see them. Or know them. Or think them. Tomorrow’s grass is probably over the horizon. We don’t know what we don’t know, but we know we can have an idea of it. But we can still be uncertain. You wanted to know if the towel would lead you to the mystery of your parents. We couldn’t be certain until you and Donut met and both agreed that you were related. Before then, you weren’t!”

  “Right…” Magnesia frowned “This theory about relatives could use some work.”

  “Which is the best part,” Arthur continued with a gleeful determination. “I don’t know anything anymore. Nothing is real unless we perceive it. Everything is just probably real. When we left, Donut knew how fast we were going, because he saw us walk, but he can’t know where we are.”

  “We could send him a letter,” Magnesia suggested.

  “Yes, but that will only mean he will know where we were when we sent the letter. As we keep moving, he won’t know where we are from the time he knew where we were.”

  “Why would we need to keep moving?” Magnesia asked.

  “I may have accidentally mad
e some people think for themselves. There was a mob forming when I left the courtyard outside the temple earlier.”

  “A mob?”

  “A crowd of people who wanted to ask me questions about what I don’t know.”

  “You seem quite excited by your ignorance.”

  “I need time to work this out. Maybe write some of this down.”

  “How will that help?”

  Arthur beamed at her. “I have no idea.”

  “My parents, at least my mother, might still be alive. I’m wondering if I should try and find her.”

  “If you like.” Arthur added a circle to the complex diagram in the mud.

  “I could ask her why they left me in the grass,” Magnesia added.

  “Yes, yes you could.”

  “Though… If I didn’t look for her, I wouldn’t know.”

  “That is true. Can you step back a bit, please, this is going to need some more space.”

  Magnesia took a few steps down the street and then slowly turned around. “However, if I did find her and she was dead, then I wouldn’t get any answers anyway.”

  “You would know that she was dead,” Arthur suggested.

  “Knowing she was dead wouldn’t change her being dead,” Magnesia replied.

  Arthur stopped and straightened up. Magnesia stopped pacing and they turned to stare at each other.

  “Except, based on what you’re saying, as long as I don’t know for sure—”

  “She is neither dead, nor alive,” Arthur finished.

  “I wonder if she would be happier being—what? Probably alive?”

  Arthur looked grave. “If you think about it, you knowing for certain your mother was dead, would be what actually killed her.”

  Magnesia frowned. “As long as I don’t know for sure, then she is neither alive nor dead. But what about all those people who do know. The ones who see her every day, or went to her funeral?”

  “Irrelevant.” Arthur waved his hand. “The only thing that is real is what you perceive and I’m not entirely sure about that yet.”

  “Oh…” Magnesia’s eyes pulsed as she tried to comprehend the concept.

  “I need to write this down. A diagram in a muddy street will only last as long as we keep observing it.”