Mulrox and the Malcognitos

by Kerelyn Smith

  “I don’t know, if the whole town is glamoured—” Yahgurkin tried to think through how this was even possible.

  “Not about Ulgorprog, about me. How are you going to fix me?”

  “You?”

  “It was horrible,” Groxor said. “The way they looked at me, like I was some kind of weirdo. I used to always know exactly what to do. I said the things that an ogre ought to—” Groxor stopped short, his eyes bulging. “See! I can’t help it. I can’t go back there like this. It’s no wonder Broxli didn’t respect me.”

  “He was glamoured; he doesn’t know what he’s doing.”

  “I came back out here to find you and make Mulrox undo whatever he did. I need your help. You and Mulrox are the only ones who might have a clue.”

  “We don’t know how to fix it.”

  “But you’re used to being excluded.”

  Any sympathy Yahgurkin had been feeling was extinguished. “You seem fine,” she said and returned to her thoughts. So Griselda had taken over Ulgorprog, and they were setting up an enormous stage. Yahgurkin thought back over everything Groxor had said and then something caught her attention. “Wait—notebook?”

  “Yeah, they said something about having his last notebook. Griselda was sure that would solve their malcognito problem.”

  Yahgurkin turned to Rodenia. The squirrelmonk had shrunk further down into her hood so you could only see the tip of her nose poking out from under it.

  “What did you do?” Yahgurkin said.

  “Me?” Groxor said. “I only evaded the most highly trained sheep gang I’ve ever seen.”

  “Rodenia,” Yahgurkin said. “How does Griselda have his notebook?”

  “This is outrageous!” Rodenia scrambled to her feet. “This is by far the worst job, the absolute most terrible case I’ve ever had. It’s all her fault, that fussed-up light. She’s getting exactly what she wanted, and it’s peanuts for the rest of us,” Rodenia said, her voice harsh. She grabbed the fur around her ears and pulled, then turned and kicked a rock next to her.

  “What’s wrong with it?” Groxor said, glaring down at Rodenia. “Do you want me to throw it out?”

  “Not yet,” Yahgurkin said. “Explain.”

  Rodenia sighed. “Her name’s Tabiyeh,” she said. “She appeared to me as a sort of spiral of purple light, which besides being pedantic, I could tell right away wasn’t real. A glamour of some sort.”

  “Like the sheep?”

  “Exactly like the sheep,” Rodenia grumbled. “Those fluffheads were my escorts.”

  Something was nagging at Yahgurkin. Hadn’t Mulrox said something about a tornado of spinning light? Was it one of his poems or a malcognito… or a dream?

  “She’s been talking to Mulrox, hasn’t she?” Yahgurkin said.

  Rodenia nodded and fell silent.

  “The notebook,” Yahgurkin pressed.

  “The sheep approached me after you left my hollow. They said all she wanted was Mulrox’s old notebook. That thing was useless. I had thought there might be some good reading in there, but I skimmed it, and it’s a bunch of nonsense about his aunt and the bone mill and some sort of contest. He’s made a deal with her, you know. To give up his hut if he doesn’t win the Behemoth.”

  Yahgurkin was quiet. Geraldine and Mulrox loved their home. Geraldine had told her about all the secret passageways and cubbyholes and carvings that decorated nearly every room. She had longed for an invitation to see it herself. But he had risked giving all that up…

  “Why that pistachio brain would do that is beyond me. Then there are all these ridiculous rhymes that hardly make any sense at all.”

  “He’s disturbed,” Groxor agreed.

  “It was only a notebook, and the sheep said she could fix me—make my tail as it had been, maybe even a little straighter and fluffier. My tail wasn’t getting any better on its own…”

  Yahgurkin stared at Rodenia, the words slowly sinking in as though dropping through water. The first real squirrelmonk she had ever met, and this. Yahgurkin closed her eyes.

  “You gave away Mulrox’s notebook in exchange for that?” Groxor waved at Rodenia’s bedraggled tail and made a face.

  “No, she fixed my tail. She did a fabulous job, too. You saw how exquisite it looked, so puffy, and the way the light caught it––”

  Yahgurkin glared at Rodenia.

  The squirrelmonk blushed and started again. “But the sheep came back. Said the notebook was useless. They needed more, or the glamour was over. The other night I… I was supposed to convince him to leave, alone. It was what the light had told him to do.”

  So Mulrox had understood the squirrelmonk’s message after all. And he had let her say all those things about how she was meant to save them. The top of Yahgurkin’s head tingled and her cheeks burned. She tried to chase the thoughts away. Something about the story nagged at her. “We’ve been trying to get to Sounous this whole time. Why would this vortex want Mulrox there?” Yahgurkin asked. “He’s trying to stop her.”

  “I get the feeling things haven’t exactly been going to plan.”

  “She wasn’t happy,” Groxor added.

  Rodenia nodded. “Luring Mulrox to Sounous is a risk, but it may be the only option she has.”

  “The Beatific Behemoth is tomorrow,” Groxor added. “Whatever her plan is, it’s happening now.”

  “I still don’t understand why this thing cares so much about the contest,” Yahgurkin said.

  “Glory,” Groxor and Rodenia said together.

  Yahgurkin shook her head. “Can’t she take the prize? If all she wants is to win, why is she glamouring all the ogres? Why bother working with Griselda?”

  “I don’t know what she wants, but I know she’s broken dozens of interdimensional laws,” said Rodenia. “Opened new portals all over Veralby, sent all sorts of things across dimensions that have no business being here. Threatened and blackmailed a squirrelmonk and then attacked her.”

  “But you did what she asked. Why would she attack you?”

  “I went after you, but it took some time to track you down. That cave was no picnic. When I reported back to her, she was not pleased at all. Said I’d taken too long, hadn’t delivered the message right. I told her not to worry, that Mulrox wasn’t the sort to get any kind of fancy ideas. Boy, did she take offense to that. Suddenly she was throwing things and screaming at me about Mulrox’s genius. Then her grinders attacked.” Rodenia shuddered.

  “She wants Mulrox dead, but you can’t insult him? What sense does that make?” Groxor said. “I don’t like this.”

  “Would you be quiet!” Yahgurkin snapped. “Of course you don’t like it. Rodenia betrayed us for a fluffier tail. Who would like that? It’s almost as bad as you abandoning Ulgorprog so that you can fit in again.”

  Groxor frowned and sat down.

  “And you.” She turned back to the squirrelmonk. “You were sneaking around the cave, trying to get more information for Tabiyeh?”

  “I was coming back to warn you when this oaf strung me up like a ham.”

  “You had no problem selling us out before.”

  Rodenia scratched at the cave floor with her foot. “I was tail blind. I didn’t realize how far she had gone. After the grinder attack, I…”

  They had tricked and manipulated Mulrox. He had left thinking it was the only way forward, and instead he was marching the malcognitos straight into a trap.

  “Well, you are too late. Both of you. He’s gone.”

  The squirrelmonk dug in her robes and produced something nearly the size of her body. She slid it across the cave floor to Yahgurkin’s feet. A purple notebook with a golden toad etched on the front. Yahgurkin stooped and picked it up.

  “He’d want you to have it,” Rodenia said.

  Yahgurkin ran her fingers over the textured spine.

  “Open it,” Rodenia said.

  Yahgurkin did as she was told. Mulrox’s steady hand filled the page. It was a poem about rain, at least that was wha
t she thought it was. It was hard to make out through the thick, dark line that ran across every word. Yahgurkin flipped the page. Here, too, the ink had nearly obliterated the words.

  “It wasn’t like that when I had it,” Rodenia said.

  Yahgurkin kept turning the pages. What was behind all this? Why did it hate Mulrox’s ideas so much? Page after page inked out.

  Yahgurkin stopped. There at the bottom of the page was something unmarked.

  Because one day I wish to be

  The greatest poet in Veralby.

  I ventured lately in a deal

  that will bind me to the wheel.

  Then a few stanzas crossed out and the poem continued.

  But if I manage to succeed,

  And my name as champion read,

  Across the land will spread my fame

  And everyone will know my name.

  Never more to mock or sneer,

  All the crowd will stand and cheer,

  And I won’t be what they used to see.

  Instead they’ll just be left with me.

  Yahgurkin closed the notebook. She looked over at Geraldine, who was gumming the bars of her cage, to Groxor picking at the cave floor and finally down at the squirrelmonk.

  “You’ll take me to Sounous?”

  The squirrelmonk nodded.

  “What about me?” Groxor demanded.

  “Who are you?” Rodenia asked, finally turning to face Groxor.

  “Groxor, Ulgorprog’s youngest raid leader, destroyer of the dread ship Billibob. Master of bewitched sheep.”

  Rodenia looked to Yahgurkin, but she glared. “I guess you can come along,” Rodenia said. “If it’s okay with Yahgurkin.”

  “Fine,” she said. “But I’m in charge.”

  41

  Mulrox was floating down a lavender river, surrounded by the smell of butter and thyme. There was a rattle and then a creak as though someone had forgotten to oil a pair of old hinges. What are hinges doing in a river? Mulrox wondered, and then he let the thought go, happy to drift downstream. But as Mulrox reached out to stretch again, there was a crash so loud that he jerked upright.

  Mulrox stumbled out of unconsciousness, shaking free the curls of purple mist as he opened his eyes onto the present. He took in the luxurious room. He was neither home nor on the trail, but he couldn’t be sure where he had ended up. There was something else now too. A percussive clicking noise that was growing louder. Mulrox rolled onto his side and looked down at the floor in time to see a grinder launch itself onto the bed. He felt the thud as it landed, pinning his legs under its weight. It leaned over, staring down into his face.

  Shh.

  “Hey!” Mulrox yelled. “What—”

  Mulrox gave a great heave and shoved the creature off him. It toppled off the bed, landing on its back. Its legs flailed ineffectually as it tried to right itself.

  Mulrox ran for the door. He was in Sounous. Pieces were coming back to him now.

  Mulrox, stop

  He had to find Tabiyeh; she would know what to do. He grabbed the bedroom door and yanked it open.

  Mulrox gasped.

  On the other side of the door were at least fifteen grinders. A sea of sharp arms shot up before him, crossing to form a sharp and angry looking wall.

  STAY.

  STAY.

  STAY.

  Their voices banged around in his head.

  He slammed the door shut once more, throwing the bolt to be sure. The malcognitos. The grinders had taken them. Mulrox whirled toward his attacker. “Where are they? What did you do?”

  Find them.

  He squinted at the grinder. It was still pinned on its back, helpless and flailing. But even with the grinder in this compromised position, Mulrox could see that this one was different. There were scratches and scrapes along many of its tools. Its shovel had a light coating of dirt, and one of its legs, a hand-saw, stuck out akimbo, the blade bent at a forty-five-degree angle.

  Remember.

  The grinder began to feed him images: Yvwi and Yahgurkin standing over a pit, Geraldine’s cage. Mulrox and the grinder talking underneath the bright stars.

  “Tork! You’re okay! I thought the birds…”

  Captured.

  Mulrox looked down and realized poor Tork was still upside down, her little legs waving in the air. He kneeled down and set her aright.

  “You came to help me. Again,” he said. “I don’t deserve it.”

  Shh.

  Tork reached out a pair of tongs and patted Mulrox on the head. Then without another word, she scuttled over to the left side of the room until she was standing in front of a wall. Tork reached up and plucked at the solid wall with her tongs. A stringlike wisp came away and wriggled in her grasp. Without looking at it, she dropped it at her feet.

  Mulrox understood. A figment, or fig, as Yvwi had called it. It must be.

  Tork repeated the procedure, dropping more and more of the little wriggling things in a pile at her feet. Mulrox reached down and grabbed one of the wormlike creatures. The fig stood up on one end and regarded him. It had enormous orb-like eyes but no mouth or ears to speak of. Mulrox waved, and it wriggled back at him.

  He turned back to Tork. “The malcognitos, do you know where they are?”

  Yes.

  “Are you taking me to them?” he asked.

  No. You have to leave.

  Did he? Mulrox tried to remember. The events in the garden, his dreams. Tabiyeh had controlled him somehow—he had been trapped, he had forgotten.

  He looked down and flexed his fingers. He remembered the last look Yvwi had given him. Mulrox hadn’t been able to do anything to stop it. Glamour had fixed him in place, he was sure of it. He had lost control, but now, though groggy, he was recovering his wits.

  Tork grabbed a handful of figs and then began stacking them. Mulrox watched as she assembled them into a large rectangle, pinching and stretching the creatures until she gave a satisfied nod. She picked this up and set it against the wall. Almost immediately, the figs began to seep into the surface, molding and changing it. After a few seconds the transformation was complete: where once had been a solid wall stood a door.

  “Are the malcognitos with the Vaccus?”

  Tork didn’t say anything. She reached up and opened the door.

  Come.

  “Won’t she know I’m gone?”

  Tork scuttled into the adjoining room.

  He wasn’t sure what to do. He could stay. He could try to mislead Tabiyeh. She thought he was glamoured still—he might be able to get information out of her if he waited. If she came back and he was missing, she would know everything. But Tork was here now. She had some kind of plan.

  “Where are we going?” Mulrox asked.

  A friend.

  Mulrox looked back at the bedroom. The velvet curtains and the enormous four-poster bed, the rug as thick and as rich as grass. He couldn’t just sit here and wait.

  Mulrox nodded to himself, set his mouth in a thin determined line, and then slipped through the door.

  * * *

  They had stepped into another room, smaller than the last but equally luxurious. A shadow flashed overhead and Mulrox ducked, diving to the side. When nothing struck him, he cautiously peeked up through his arms. What he saw stopped him dead in his tracks. Hanging from the ceiling, stretching over almost the entire room, was an enormous mobile. Scores of little wooden animals swung round and round in a slow, mesmerizing dance, a flock of birds, a herd of sheep. He gawked at them, marveling at the slow, spinning motion.

  He managed to pull his eyes away long enough to take in that Tork was already across the room and her arms were fast at work constructing yet another door.

  The walls of the room were thick with books, and a set of intricately carved wooden chests sat in the corner. Behind the bed hung a lush tapestry of a unicorn, and Mulrox knew without a doubt that behind it he would most certainly find a hidden compartment. This was his guest room. It was magnified, impr
oved, but certainly the same place.

  Tork did not wait for him and swung her mallet foot at the newly created door, forcing it open. He hurried to catch up with her. Wondering where he would end up next.

  The next room opened into a sea of blue-green tile. Waves of steam rolled along the floor like low-hanging clouds. He could hear water falling off to the left somewhere. The guest bathroom.

  Keep moving.

  Mulrox wanted to look around, but Tork dashed across the room and he had to hurry to keep up. He followed the sound of her legs clicking across the tile and found her cutting another passage for them through a wall.

  “Wouldn’t it be faster to use the existing doors?” he whispered.

  Guarded.

  When Mulrox stepped through this last opening, he found himself in a room lined with row upon row of books. Shelves reached from the floor to the ceiling. In the center of the room was a large, overstuffed chair lit by the most elaborate-looking bone chandelier he had ever seen. “I wish my library really looked like this,” Mulrox whispered.

  “Is that him?” a voice asked.

  “Who’s that?” Mulrox asked.

  Tork led him into the middle of the room.

  “I know you said you had found him, but I never really thought… Oh my, he’s tall!”

  Behind the chair was a small, floating creature in the shape of a series of ascending mushrooms, each cap a few inches taller than the next, forming a set of miniature stairs.

  “Really?” Mulrox said. “But I came up with Toad-stool-steps years ago.”

  “You remember!” he said. “Yes, Mulrox, I’m a—”

  “Malcognito, I know,” Mulrox finished. “I’ve run into plenty of you.”

  “Actually, I’m a logosophilo.”

  Mulrox stared at the shape skeptically.

  “You’re one of my good ideas?”

  “Yes,” Toad-stool-steps said, drawing himself up to his full height.

  “But you look exactly like the malcognitos.”

  “Of course. What did you think we looked like?”

  Mulrox stopped. His first logosophilo. He didn’t know what he had expected, but… “It’s just… how are you supposed to tell the difference?”