by Tim Paulson
“Please tell me you still have the medicine,” Giselle said.
Ina was unlocking the alley door of the bakery. “Of course I do! Do you think I'd have come all this way just to-” Ina shrieked, jumping back.
On the other side of the window was Daniel. Only his horned skull head was visible, red eyes glowed through the paned glass.
“Get back... I will handle,” Piotr said, slipping two long daggers from sheathes at his waist.
Giselle held up her hands. “No! Stop! He's a friend!”
The weaselman's arms dropped to his side. His head cocked. “That... is friend?”
There was a snap as the latch opened and the door was pushed open from the inside. Daniel waved with one tentacle.
“Hi Daniel... how is she?”
The skull waggled a little. Giselle took it to mean nothing much had changed. “I forgot you left before we met Daniel. He's from that place with the trees that you were too scared to enter.”
Piotr looked shocked. He pointed both knives at Daniel. “And you are seeing why right there!”
Ina shrugged. “He's fine... He smells bad... but he seems nice,” she said, patting Piotr's wrist. “He just startled me.”
Piotr sheathed his weapons. “No wonder!”
Daniel's skull lowered, aiming toward the ground in what could only be interpreted as a hangdog expression.
Giselle patted him on the head. “I like you. Even if you look scary right now.”
Daniel looked at her and nodded, then he gestured inside.
It took time to brew the tea, which was what the medicine had to be made into given the instructions on the bag in surprisingly legible handwriting. While they waited, Ina sat with her mother, who was still sleeping but Piotr stayed with her.
“If you're going to just stand around you could help with the baking. I have work to finish here before we can open and I want Ina to have time with her mother,” she said, hoping maybe he'd get the hint and leave.
“No. I do not bake,” Piotr replied.
“Why is that?” Giselle asked, trying to be polite instead of annoyed.
“I like to cook, yes, but not bake. Baking is all following direction. Add this, then this, like that. Is boring. There is no talent to it, no mystery.”
Giselle laughed as she checked the rising buns they'd set aside before they left, making sure they hadn't over-proofed. “That is where you're wrong! If there's one thing I've learned since I've been living here, it's that making good bread is not easy. It's an art form all its own.”
Piotr shook his head, whiskers wiggling with disagreement.
“Well said!” Ina quipped as they came down the stairs.
“How is she?” Giselle asked her.
“The fever is high, but she's sleeping at least. Once we get the medicine in her it will help but Elzbieta said she should rest all of today and maybe tomorrow too, before she can work.”
Giselle's face fell. “Ugh. So much kneading!” She sighed. “At least she'll be better. That's what matters.”
Ina checked on the kettle, staring at it with burning intensity, as if her will alone could command it to boil.
“It will whistle when it's hot. Come, help me with these buns, then we can get the front set and open up,” Giselle said.
Ina nodded.
Piotr sat down on a small stool in the corner, usually used by whomever was churning the butter. The effect was comical however as his legs were proportionally shorter than a human's and his neck longer. Even seated he was still taller Ina.
“Where is the Lord Aaron?” Piotr asked. “Is he a baking man also?”
Giselle pursed her lips, trying not to think about it. Emotion welled up anyway though, causing her to turn away to dab at her eyes.
Ina shot the weaselman a dark look. “He's not here.”
“What?” Piotr said, raising his arms. “Is he doing good? When is last time you see him? I like that guy. He is smart and kind. These things don't much go together.”
Giselle stared out the window. Her father had said much the same when Aaron had first come to Aeyrdfeld. She remembered the thin young man with the spectacles, fresh from the Veil Institute, who despite being a titled graduate of a prestigious department had still played games with her. They'd read books together as well. Though he tended to prefer dry tomes about history or science, he'd bend and read stories so they could discuss them together. He'd always read so fast too, it had been difficult for her to keep up, but she loved that.
A hand appeared on her forearm. It was Ina's tiny clawed fingers.
“Are you alright?” she asked.
Giselle willed herself together, wiping her eyes again. “Yes... Yes. I'm fine.” How terrible to be fretting about Aaron while Ina's mother had a fever just upstairs. How selfish. She wouldn't allow it.
“What is wrong?” Piotr asked.
“You idiot!” Ina said, slapping him with a rag from the sink. “Can't you see she's upset?”
“Oh...” Piotr said. “Sorry.”
Giselle spun around. “I haven't seen Aaron in months. They were supposed to come once they'd recaptured our home. Mother took Aaron, Liam, and Mia and went there. She said it would be easy,” Giselle laughed, biting back more tears. “But it obviously wasn't because the Ganex own it now and I don't know where any of them are... even my own uncle has abandoned me. So there! Are you happy?”
“Ganex won't have for much longer,” Piotr said.
“What? What do you mean?” Giselle asked.
The weaselman leaned back in his short seat, putting his arms behind his neck.
“Oh? Now you are wanting me talk?”
Ina hit him with the rag again.
“Hey! Stop that!” he said.
She hit him again. “No!” Ina said, defiantly.
Piotr sighed. “Is fine... Is fine. I tell.” He sat forward, interlacing his clawed fingers. “But you cannot say I told. Was not me. Understand?”
“Yes yes... out with it!” Giselle said.
* * *
In the dark corner of a warehouse on the south side of the docks young akkikul fought over a flea-infested blanket. They snarled and snapped and scratched and bit at one another. It had nothing to do with the blanket itself. The item was virtually useless to them. The clen slept together in clumps, huddling for warmth, blankets were considered a waste. No, the only reason they were fighting was the lingering odor of meat that clung to it. It had been Celia's.
Keval waited until they finally tore the blanket in two, each taking a piece and disappearing into the dark, to smell the meat and salivate while they imagined eating it again. Then, once they'd gone, he approached, quietly, carefully, slinking forward. If any noticed him, they might think he knew something they didn't. They'd assume there was food hidden there. So he took his time, looking bored, disinterested, walking in circles nearby and lying on the cold dirt by himself, all to throw them off.
They would know he'd liked her, that she'd been kind to him. They'd called it soft, foolish, human-like, but he didn't care. In point of fact, he did know something they didn't, and once he was sure no one was watching him anymore, he went for it.
He pulled on the single plank, just as he'd seen Celia do, and slipped a hand inside, feeling around. What came out was her doll. He'd seen her talking to it many times but he had no idea why. Now that it was in his hands, he understood even less. Worse, there was a smell to it... a sickly odor like that powder the humans used for their guns. Guns had killed several of the clen, including his older sister Fara. Just thinking about them was painful. He thought about putting the doll back, burying it forever.
No. He couldn't. Celia had been good. She'd cared about this thing. He wanted to know why, even if it smelled like guns. So he turned it over in his hands inspecting every part of it. The thing was shaped vaguely like a dierlijt. The head lolled a bit to the side but it had two arms and two legs. It was made of cloth and properly, likely by one of the sewing houses for the rich. He'd se
en things made by those places. The clen leader's children played with them. They were good toys, fun toys. He'd always wanted something like that.
Also, on the back of it there was a slit that had been tied closed.
Hmmm...
Was an item hidden inside? Should he look? If it was valuable and one of the clen found him with it, he'd be called out for stealing. They'd scratch him up again, bite him. He didn't want that.
So he stuffed the doll in his shirt and went to the back exit used by the youngest to explore the alleys. He was still small enough to use it, one advantage he had over the others.
He made sure he'd made it there without attracting any notice and crawled through. It was light now, light enough for even the humans to see into the alley shadows. That would be alright, he had an idea where to go. Two streets down, around a corner, and behind an old shed.
A homeless human had been living here for a while. She'd been hiding from something, willing to risk even the clens to try living in their territory. He'd talked to her a few times. Not at length, but he'd been interested to know why she was here. She hadn't told him much, not even her name. Now she was gone. With the recent snows, only the barest wisps of her scent remained, but the woman's things were still here, blanketed in white. He'd been hoping for this and used his claws to uncover what he could.
There were scattered shreds of cloth with varied patterns on them, rows of socks with holes, and in the corner, covered carefully by two layers of sackcloth, the sewing kit. He dug it out and placed it next to him, setting the sackcloth down as a makeshift work area. In the center he laid down Celia's doll.
Now that he saw it in natural light it looked like one of the stone men the humans used to build bridges and make war. He'd heard of them but had no interest in seeing them in person. If they were really as large as he'd been told, it would be terrifying. This one wasn't so bad however, it was quite small.
He turned it over, inspecting the stitching. There were two problems that he could see. First, the opening in the back was too loose. Just carrying the thing around a little had the gem near to slipping out. That would have to be remedied. The other issue was the head. It lolled to one side for a reason. It had been torn off at some point and improperly sewn back together. It would have to be removed and reattached.
Kev smiled. He loved sewing. It was the one task the clen allowed him to participate in that he'd excelled at. It just felt right. The slow conscious effort that built over time into something useful, even beautiful.
He started by slipping the green stone from inside. It was the source of the bad smell, that was certain, but did not look valuable. It was too cloudy to be one of the glassy shiny gems the rich wore to balls. He did not know the kind of stone. Also, on one side there was a symbol of some kind. It reminded him of The Tale.
Elder clen females always told it to the young. It was about demons of old who became corrupt and destroyed the world with their powers. Finally, the gods became angry and imprisoned them inside green stones. So any dierlijt who found a green stone was commanded by the gods to smash it, lest the demons find their way back into the world.
Keval couldn't do that though, not to something of Celia's. Besides, the clen had rejected him. They thought he was too small, too quiet, they'd stopped feeding him in the hope that he would leave and die. He knew it. He heard their whispers. The adults were smart enough to be silent about it, but the younger ones were not so disciplined. So if they said smash the green stone, he would do no such thing.
Instead, he put it aside while he used the seam ripper from the kit to cut free the doll's head. He used a deep blue thread to reattach it, correctly this time, using an overlapping backstitch that would hold it more securely. Then he repaired the back slit, using some additional fabric to make it more secure and allow the string that held it closed to be tied tightly without fear of ripping the doll. Finally he slipped the green stone back inside and tied the back string into a neat bow, placing the doll on the ground in front of him.
“There,” he said.
“There what?” replied the doll.
Keval shrieked, jumped nearly two feet and bolted around to the other side of the shed, panting.
“Where did you go?” said the same voice.
The doll was talking! It was a demon... A real demon? His heart was pumping like mad, he could hear it in his ears.
“Where am I?” the doll asked.
Kev peered around the corner of the shed. Unable to temper his curiosity. That was another thing he was often chided for in the clen. Cubs his age weren't supposed to be so curious. They were supposed to be hard-minded, focused on their job. Protecting the clen if a female, supporting the clen if male. That was how it worked, so they always said, and he didn't fit in.
“Are you a demon?” he asked it.
“Hmmm?” The doll turned around, regarding him.
Its eyes and facial features now moved as if the thing had always been alive. It was unnerving but also thrilling. Kev wanted to run every bit as much as he wanted to move closer... so he ended up frozen, staring at it.
“I... I... asked if you're a demon,” he said.
“Yes I heard. I'm not sure how to respond to that honestly. From your perspective I might be. You're an akkikul aren't you?”
Kev nodded. It was said differently though, the accent was odd.
“I've seen your kind before, but rarely alone,” it said.
Keval looked down at the snow. “I'm always alone, even when I'm with the others.”
The doll nodded. “I see. You and I have something in common then. My name is Vex.”
“Keval,” he replied, pointing a claw at his own chest.
“May I ask where I am?” Vex asked, inspecting his own hands and feet.
“This is the dierlijt quarter in Valendam,” Kev replied.
“And how did you come into possession of... me?” Vex asked. “You can approach. I won't harm you.”
Kev took a step forward. “I... took you from someone's things,” he grimaced, feeling emotion well up as he thought of Celia. “She won't need them any more.”
“Oh? And who is that?”
“Celia.”
The doll took a sharp step forward, causing Kev to startle, drawing back.
“Where is she?”
“I don't know... “
“Did you take,” the doll looked down at his body, “this body from her?”
“No... She was working for my clen. She had that body for you. I saw her put the green stone inside but it didn't work. The head was wrong, I fixed it,” Kev said.
Vex nodded his diminutive head. “I see. I owe you both a debt. We must find Celia Keval. Will you help me?”
He looked down at his hands. “Me? I'm nothing... less than nothing, the weakest of the clen. You should choose another. I can only slow you down.”
“You were intelligent enough to discern what was wrong with this body and skilled enough to fix it. For that, I'm grateful.”
“Are you a demon?” Kev asked, feeling a pang of guilt for having so egregiously disobeyed The Tale.
Vex shrugged. “Some would say so. I'm a dead man, three thousand years gone, yet I live. I have power, but for the time being, am bound to use it only as others see fit.”
“What kind of power?” he asked.
“The kind that can protect you if you help me. I wish to find Celia and it will take me far longer waddling along on these tiny legs. So... what do you say?”
“Will it mean defying the will of my clen? Will the leader be angry?”
“Almost certainly,” Vex replied.
Kev grinned. “Then yes!”
* * *
A bright light in her eyes caused Winnifred to bolt upright in bed. As she looked around however, it seemed that all was as usual. Her room looked normal with the same pictures on the walls, her same sitting chair with the two dolls from her youth perched together just so. The pitcher and washbasin on the table to her left, waited
with cool water for her to wash her face and begin the day. The morning light was streaming in from the window to her right, but softly through the blue curtains with the mountains embroidered on them. It was morning, time for her to get up after all. Perhaps she had dreamed the light.
Then the veil lantern on her right bedside table caught her eye. Not only was it on, she had most definitely turned it off before bed, but its glow appeared to be fluctuating in intensity. She had never heard of such a thing. Veil lanterns were incredibly reliable. Even if their blue light wasn't the favorite of everyone in comparison the warmer golden glow of a fire or an oil lantern. Even Winnie had complained about this at times, especially when reading late into the night. However, this lantern was acting odd.
As she watched it, the lantern dimmed for a moment, before suddenly shining with an intense blue glow, almost white. This was far brighter than she had ever seen. It kept the shine up as well, casting vast shadows of her body against the wall. Winnie used one hand to shield her eyes, while the other grabbed for her pillow. She held the pillow up, blocking more of the light, as she reached for the lantern's switch. Her fingers found the lantern's switch in the off position however.
Winnie slid out from under her covers, getting closer to the lamp. She clicked the switch twice with no effect, still it shined like a thousand suns, filling her room with light. Worse, when she looked closer, using the pillow as a shield for her eyes, she was able to see the reservoir for the lantern. It was empty!
“Oh no...” she said. There was only one possibility now.
Winnie hopped out of bed and ran to the other room, her long blond braids trailing behind her like lengths of rope in a strong gale, still holding the pillow to her face. Every lamp in the house was behaving the same, glowing at a hundred times its normal brightness.
Without warning, the light faded, leaving Winnie with a constellation of dark circles swimming in her eyes. It caused her to slam into the railing, almost toppling over it, to fall to the first floor of the cottage.
There was no time to wipe the sweat from her brow at the close call however, she had to get to the room before it happened again. If others in the town saw the light, they would come. That could not be allowed. Having hit the railing helped however as it gave her the correct angle to get to the other door. She launched herself forward, grasped the handle, and threw it open.