by Jeffrey Hall
Moso looked on in awe, his tail signing lazily. That’s the fastest bird I’ve ever seen.
“Now we know how he got his name. Come on.” They hurried down the main street of the Chatter District, pushing past the people that crowded there as quickly as they could with what little energy they still possessed. They arrived at Dargu’s hut, but were surprised when Wings kept flying.
Is he screwing with us? said Moso.
Wish shrugged. They followed the Eclectun out of the Chatter District and crossed under one of the many arches constructed to signify the start of the inner city, a district also known as the Striped Streets because of the architecture and decor that rose on the other side.
Maddening paintings covered every piece of stone and heavy wood the buildings were made of, each one a different color and representation, each one adding to the visual calamity of the place. A calamity done intentionally to confuse the thieves and the jungle predators who would dare make it that far in the city, like a camouflaged creature trying to stay out of a set of jaws.
It gave Wish a headache every time he entered.
There rose one building whose stones had each been painted with a different color frog like a shrine to the amphibians that inhabited the forest, its door barely discernible amongst the thousands of hues saturating its face. Next to it was another whose walls had been painted black and white to resemble the night sky. And across from it, there rose a house in which every board of lumber had been painted to look like a tree, with brilliant white monkeys perched amidst the canopy of its roof, always still, always watching as if frozen.Even the stones of the road itself had not escaped an artist’s brush, each one filled in with a different species of insect, at least for that portion of the street.And nearby, imposing its tremendous shadow upon it all, was the Temple of Notha, rising like the pinnacle of artistry with its brilliant green vines and the colorful flowers that grew from it.
Wings squatted atop one of the arches that provided the gateways into the streets. “Head down the main street. I’ll let you know when you’ve arrived.”
“Arrived where?” called Wish, but Wings had already taken off into the air.
Fucking hoatzin, signed Moso. Our blood is dripping at his feet, yet he’s lashing our backs like we’re livestock. Moso glanced to either side of the Striped Streets. Whatever we’re doing here, let’s get out as soon as we can. This isn’t our place. Not yet.
Wish agreed. Even as they walked people were glancing their way. Flocks of wealthy merchants, artisans, and retired soldiers all eyed them like presumed criminals only moments away from committing a crime. Looks that made Wish feel even lowlier than the general populace outside of the Striped Streets. Looks that he might someday avoid if they could earn the money promised to them and actually assimilate into such a place. But there were still more boxes to find. Still much more to risk.
Whatever Wings wanted them in there for, Wish was in a hurry to leave the Striped Streets, same as Moso.
No sooner had they made it a few hundred feet from the streets’ entrance than a Pangolian woman adorned in a red spider-silk robe left her seat upon a stoop and approached them. A rainbow viper slept coiled around her left arm like some type of expensive band.
“Moso Orini! I’ve been looking for you!” the woman shouted, and those in her way parted.
Moso squinted, realized who it was, and then fell sullen, an unusual emotion for someone as talkative and upbeat as him.
Wish looked from his partner to the woman and back. “You know her?”
Yes.
“Who is she?”
The woman arrived and folded her arms so she could pet the snake’s back as she spoke. “Go on. Tell him who I am.”
Just some woman.
Wish shook his head. That was all he needed to know. Some woman Moso had probably sweet-talked or drunkenly laid his tail next to on one of his many escapades in Fangmora’s underbelly, the places Wish normally refused to join him. Though Moso said he was done with such places, it appeared those places weren’t done with him.
“Some woman?”
Whoever she was, she had spent enough time with him to understand his language. A rare thing, especially when usually his only communication with women was lunars.
“Is that all I am to you?” she continued.
What do you want? Moso’s tail flicked quickly, a sign he was nervous.
“What all women want of the nefarious Moso Mana Orini. A moment of your time.”
Moso chewed his lip, contemplating. At last his tail signed, Give me a minute, Wish.
“Our employer is waiting.”
“Don’t worry,” said the woman. “This won’t take long.” She placed her hand, the one with the snake’s head resting on the back of it, on Moso’s head and walked him into the shadowy presence of a building whose face had been painted to match that of a merimic’s, a beast with a striped face that looked like shadowy river ways with lilypads of eyes set in their center.
“You alright?” shouted Wish.
I’m fine, flickered Moso’s tail. Wish watched them suspiciously as their conversation commenced. The woman stood in front of his partner, hiding the way his tail moved, keeping their conversation private, except for the raised tone of the woman’s voice.
Wish didn’t need to listen to it to understand the basics of the exchange. Moso had broken another heart, and was now paying the price for leaving it in shambles. Wish looked down the Striped Streets and saw the others wandering down it, still glancing at him as if he were a spectacle that required gawking at. Their looks made his skin crawl more than any insect from the jungle.
Is this what he was fighting for? To be amongst these people? No, not for yourself, he reminded himself. For his father. For Marli and his daughter. Despite the demeanor of its population, the Striped Streets were safe. They’d never have to live looking over their shoulders again, and Wish could spend more time in the jungle. More time away from this forsaken place. That’s if Moso would hurry up, and they could finish this job.
Moso’s shriek echoed down the street. When Wish turned, the woman’s snake was biting down on Moso’s right ear, and the Chassa was trying to pull it away.
“Hey!” Wish ran to his partner’s aid, but as the woman saw him approaching, she ran her finger along the snake’s back, causing it to retract with the fragment of Moso’s ear in its mouth. She raised the serpent in Wish’s direction, causing him to stutter in his steps. To his surprise, she bowed, tucking the serpent beneath her bosom.
“Carry on, Wish.”
So shocked was he by her casual response, and the way she turned and walked away without fear of retaliation, that Wish froze and stared, dumfounded.
Let her go, Moso signed beside him, grabbing his ear as blood trickled from it.
“Let her go? She just took your ear, and you want me to just let her go?”
That’s what I said.
The woman kept walking, sauntering away into the crisscrossing crowds that eyed the commotion as nothing more than another misadvised escapade of those who weren’t apart of them. Moso would normally have drawn daggers upon someone who did that to him, lover or not. Why not her?
“What did you do to her?” By now the woman was completely out of sight. She and her snake were gone, Moso’s ear now in their possession like some keepsake.
Moso winced as he pawed at his ear. When he pulled away his hand, Wish saw the ragged remainder of it. It looked like a leaf gnawed on by canopy moths. Nothing, signed Moso.
“Nothing?” said Wish, eyeing his partner suspiciously.
Nothing I haven’t done a hundred times before.
Wish scratched his head. “Well, whatever you did, you struck a chord with this one. Maybe next time you pick a less prickly woman?”
Wish waited for a quip in response, but instead the Chassa just stared down the street.
“You going to be alright?”
Moso blinked, as if waking up. I’m fine. He removed his hand a
gain, and the tear in his flesh shone crimson beneath the great fire.
“Now we’ve both given a body part today.” Wish turned his attention back down the street. “Come on then, the bird is waiting.”
He started walking, but stopped when he noticed that Moso didn’t follow.
“What is it?” said Wish.
There. That’s the place. He raised his finger and pointed to a building up the street. It was wide in comparison to the others. Sturdy. Built of thick stone the size of Moso himself. And painted upon its side was a mural of a hundred nude women, of each species and color, all tangled about in vines as if the jungle were desperately trying to make up for their lack of garments.
“What about it?”
That’s where I’ll bury myself when we finish this job. With walls so thick that a jagrall couldn’t knock them down, and with a thousand women helping to bolster them up. That should do it. That should hide me.
Wish stared at his partner, amazed at how such an interaction with a woman could affect him. He had seen him argue with dozens over their years running together, and yet he bounced from one heartbreak to the next with a smile that suggested it was all part of the way he wanted to live his life. An appreciator of all the opposite sex, one who used his previous lover’s fury as a catalyst to propel him onto the next, or sometimes back to an old flame, one that was no longer so fiery. Perhaps it was the attack. Perhaps it was their current job. Perhaps it was him finally trying to retire from the life he’d built. Whatever the reason, Wish had never seen him so sullen.
“Agreed,” said Wish. “That should help you forget her, whoever she was. But we still need to earn them, right?”
Right. Moso finally started moving, though his gaze did not leave the building covered with women. When at last it passed from their gaze, Moso’s smile returned. I think my ear stopped bleeding.
“Good,” said Wish, happy and relieved to see his friend looking like himself again.
Together they continued down the Striped Streets, avoiding the crowds where they could, glancing up to the sky in hopes of finding Wings.
At last they saw the Eclectun circling above a building made of stones that been painted to each have a different eye on them. When they arrived, Wings swooped down, his head swinging to either side as he stood in front of a slight indentation in the building’s side. He put a key to a knob that also looked like just another eye.
“Took your time,” said Wings.
“We ran into some complications.”
Wings eyed Moso’s ear. “Complications? What sorts?”
Moso’s tail stayed still, so Wish spoke for him. “Personal.”
Wings clucked his tongue, annoyed.
Where are we? signed Moso, and Wish translated.
Wings checked to either side of the street once more and opened the door. An impressive interior awaited. A shining floor of polished stone sprawled across a spacious chamber with a staircase spiraling along either side. Hanging from the second-floor balcony that overlooked the entrance were a hundred drooping plants, dangling just over the floor, hiding whatever lay behind them. Inside, the same mural that coated the exterior continued. Countless eyes stared back at them, unblinking. An incalculable collection of black pupils drowning in small pools of radiant color.
“Due to recent events, we’ve had to change our location.”
“Recent events?”
Wings ushered them into the building and hurried to close the door behind them. He clucked his tongue and then squawked as if he were calling to someone or something deeper in the building.
“There are eyes everywhere, eyes looking for the same thing you are now. We must take precautions if we are to succeed in our mission.”
He does realize where we are, doesn’t he? said Moso, pointing at the walls.
Wish ignored him and said, “Precautions?”
There was a rustling amongst the vines. They parted, and emerging from behind them was Dargu, clad in a tunic made of roseleaf, a pink flower that smelled like honey. Though his assistant’s voice dripped with anxiety, the look on Dargu’s face said it even more. A sheen of sweat sat on his forehead. He searched the corners of the room as if Wish and Moso had brought in trouble with them.
“The box, do you have it?” he said.
Not even a what happened to you? signed Moso.
Wings reached into the sack and produced the third box. Dargu hurried to it greedily, snatching it from his assistant’s hand and opening it to reveal the piece of parchment resting inside.
His shoulders slumped, relieved. Finally Dargu’s attention fell on Wish and Moso.
“What happened?”
Wish held up his hand. “The streaked ones had a steep requirement for the box, one I was in the process of paying before the village was attacked.”
“Attacked? By who?”
“Show him the brooch,” said Wings.
Wish took out the wooden pin of the serpent tree encased in flames and held it out for the man to see. Dargu’s brow furrowed.
“It’s just as we thought. They’ve picked up the trail,” said Wings.
Who’s picked up the trail? said Moso.
“They’ve picked it up,” said Dargu, taking the brooch from Wish’s hand. “But they’ve left one of their own. We know for certain they’re after it too, and knowing our competitors is the battle, Wings.”
“Who is they?”
“The Limbs of Voshi,” said Dargu.
Wish and Moso exchanged another glance. Moso shrugged his shoulders.
“And who are they?”
Wings shook his head. “After all the work you’ve done across this city, you’ve never heard rumors of them? Never came across tales of their deeds? By the Flaw, never was employed by them?”
Wish shook his head. “Gossip isn’t our profession.”
“The Limbs are a society of botamancers,” said Dargu. “They are said to be the progeny and students of those botamancers who meant to kill Tabari for her secrets. For years they have existed in the underbelly of Fangmora, practicing dangerous botamancy, experimenting in hopes of discovering Tabari’s language, doing anything they can to find the boxes that her apprentice hid amongst the city and beyond. It appears that others may have seen your entrance into the city with the first box. Or perhaps your friend Boz may have let this secret slip to ears besides my own. The wrong ears.”
Great. So you mean we have an army of botamancers hunting for these things too?
Dargu looked to Wish for translation.
“He’s just concerned. This job is getting more dangerous by the moment,” said Wish. Eating poisonous mushrooms, facing off against streaked ones, and now a group of botamancers on their tail... What good were two thousand lunars if they weren’t alive to use them?
“What? Did you think it would be easy? Did you think you could just pick up some boxes along the jungle and walk your way into a pile of lunars?” said Dargu. “These are some of the most prized possessions across all of Chilongua. I told you that. Of course there would be others chasing after them like starved jagralls. It’s part of what you signed up for. Two thousand lunars is enough to change anyone’s life, but to earn it you must be willing to sacrifice your own.”
Moso laughed. By the gods, what a speech. It’s no wonder he can get plants to do what he wants. I wonder if he’s ever talked them into dying for him like he’s done to us. Moso ran a hand over his head. But he’s right. We should have known it wasn’t going to be easy.
“I hope this revelation of added difficulty does not change our arrangement?” said Dargu.
Wish glanced down at Moso. Of course it doesn’t. A couple more tree-talkers will just add to the fun. Tell him we’re still in. Besides, you’ve already invested a few fingers into this job. No use in letting your pinky fester in some striped one’s scat for nothing.
Wish hesitated, but the thought of Marli and his daughter still stuck in the crumbling walls of that church and his father beneath the boot of
the Green Men kept him from saying no.
“Of course not,” he answered.
“Good. Both men true to your reputations.” Dargu flipped the brooch back to Wish. “The intervention of the Limbs at the Black Orchard was a blessing. If what you said was true, if you were attacked back in the Crone Stones, then they’ve just told us where to find the second box.”
Wish’s stomach dropped. He wanted to argue with the man. He wanted to tell him to fuck off. He wanted to escape to the jungle and never again return to the dealings of men, but didn’t because of the same thought that had kept him from ending their arrangement only moments ago. He knew what Dargu was telling them to do. He swallowed. “Where are they?”
“An excellent question,” said Dargu. “That’s the thing about existing in the underbelly of the city—it’s hard to reach unless you’re willing to crawl through its smook to find it. And Wings and I”—Dargu rolled up his sleeves—“have preferred to stay clean.”
He doesn’t know? said Moso.
“You don’t know.”
Dargu shook his head. “There have been rumors for years about secret entrances and paths that lead through sewers and doors inside trees... but no one knows for sure. At least no one I know. But perhaps there is another way of finding out?”
“What do you mean?” said Wish.
Wings spoke for his master. “You will be followed now. You made it away with the third box. They have no other way of finding where the fourth might be except by finding us, which should be rather hard to do with our change of location, or by following you.”
He wants us to set a trap. Bait them into revealing themselves. Follow them.
“I know what he wants.” Wish scratched his forehead, his mind already trying to come up with a way to fool the botamancers into making a mistake. “The fourth box. Where is it?”
Dargu flipped over the box in his hand and ran his fingers over the carving. “It’s in Swallow. I can’t read it.”
Moso shook his head with frustration. If only botamancers knew how to speak to actual people.
“We can take it to the Word Halls, try to find one of the old books and translate it—”