Chapter Eight: Expected

"There! It's done! We have a route!" Lina screamed
after having an all-nighter with the map to Hayla. Red lines
criss-crossed over the page, almost making the map
unreadable.
"Great. Too bad we can't see Hayla any more," Gourry
remarked.
"You, shut up. It's there, I can see it." Lina then
fell on her face and slept, snoring.
"#Why are you people in such a big hurry? Hayla is not
going to run away.#" Zel asked Gourry. Gourry looked at him
blankly, "#Never mind.#"

*** ***

The next morning, Amelia said farewell to her father,
made up some excuse about finding Master Zelgadis' birth
parents and ran away as fast as she could without looking
suspicious.
"I am so happy that we don't have to spent another
night there. One week is too much," Lina whined. Gourry had
dragged her out of bed, regardless of her protests. "You
said you wanted to leave and be gone by 9! It's now 10!"
After Lina had gotten dressed, eaten, and moaned and groaned
at Gourry for being unreasonable, they left at 11:30am.
As they were heading towards the gates, they ran into
the Millay shepherds. "Are you taking him to Hayla? How are
going to explain what happened to him?" Michelle asked,
rubbing Zel's hair.
"We're in a really big hurry, so if you don't mind,"
Lina said, grabbing Zel out from under Michelle's touch and
tossing him to Amelia. She grabbed Gourry's arm and led him
out, heading north. The shepherds continued walking, but
they headed south. The children were still singing their
little song. Zel chimed in (in his own language) at various
lines that he knew.
After the song of the children had faded and Saillune
had become a dot, Gourry asked, "Hey, Lina? What _are_ we
going to tell his relatives about what happened to him?"
"Um... well... I'll think of something to say," Lina
brushed it off.
"Miss Lina, couldn't we just tell them the truth?"
Amelia asked.
"Amelia," Gourry answered before Lina could, "if you
were sitting in your room one day and three people you've
never met come in with a six-year-old and tell you it is
your long lost relative, wouldn't you be a little dubious?"
"Well, I guess..."
Lina added, "Look, his aunt is not a moron. She is not
going to believe we say. We have to prove to her that he is
Zel."
"But, Amelia's got a point. Honesty is the best policy.
Maybe she'll know him on sight. Maybe she'll believe us..."
Gourry tapped his chin with his forefinger.
"Maybe she'll call the men in white suits to take us
away. If I was her, I would not believe us," Lina replied.
"But what are we going to say to her, Miss Lina? It
will do us no good if we lie because then she can't help
us!" Amelia cried.
"I'm voting for just telling the truth. There's an off-
chance she'll believe us," Gourry raised his hand and Amelia
raised hers. "You're out-voted, we're going to tell her the
truth."

*** ***

It took a week to get to Hayla. Hayla was on the coast
of the Gulf of Cephied which, apparently, looked like
Cephied's head. Some say during the War of the Monsters, he
had fallen during one of the battles, but not the Big
Battle, and left an imprint of his head.
To the north of Hayla was the endless desert,
Firebrand, to the south was flatlands. It was very hot but
not as hot as the Firebrand desert. It was a trade port,
smelling of spices and dried fruit.
There were fortune-teller booths and snake charmers.
Preachers of minor religions preached of ever-lasting
torment to those who didn't convert. Exotic animals were
seen from cages, nearly hidden in the darkness of the tents
they were sold from. Prostitutes stood in barely nothing
(actually, lots of women were in barely nothing. Went up to
the 100s in this place), tattooed with faux religious
symbols, offering their "wares" to the men walking in the
streets. Upper class prostitutes stood outside whorehouses,
telling men what kind of "entertainment" they could get, and
at what cost.
Lina glared at Gourry, daring him to say something.
Gourry simply kept walking. He had no desire to go to one of
those places. His father, when he had reached puberty,
strictly told him, under no uncertain terms, that men who
went to those places, "Are lower than spit. The women can't
help it, they have no where to go so they must offer it to
live, much like a milkmaid must milk cows to live. The men
who go there, they do not need it. They are selfish and
encouraging bad behavior. If they need it so bad, they
should just find a girl, court her and marry her, like the
rest of us!"
Of course, there were worse wares than what the
prostitutes were selling. In dark alleys, men and, yes, even
women sold "Dream Teas" and "Dreamer's Sugar" and other such
things. There was no person, no matter how young, that could
not buy one of these products for under a gold. Indecent,
yes, but they were only selling because people were buying.
Supply always depends on demand.
While Lina glared, Gourry ignored the women and Amelia
resisted the urge to either throw up or crawl on to some
high pinnacle and make the citizens abandon their evil ways,
a man was escorting a woman back to work after lunch.
The man was talking, "Is she creeping you out or it is
just me?"
The woman replied, "You know how your mother is. I'm
used to it, don't worry. Geez, I should be the complaining,
not you."
"But, it's not like the other times. It's different."
"But you never had proof that he was dead. Maybe she's
right. Maybe he is coming."
"Yeah, that I understand that but what's up with 'he
will learn to be one with innocence.' I just don't
understand."
"I'm just an Earth shamanist. I don't understand
fortune telling any more than you do. What do you want me to
say?" Someone bumped into her. She turned to scold but she
found her very guilty looking brother-in-law.
"Where's the fire, Malcolm?" She asked.
Malcolm was about ten years old (though he claimed to
eleven). He had fiery red hair with brown eyes. He was
tanned, as was everyone here, but he was dusty as well. He
wore white capri-style pants with goat leather sandals. His
sleeve less shirt, which was white, had turned into a slight
beige from dirt and dust. There was sand in his hair, which
he was currently trying to shake out.
"Nowhere. I had to get somethin' for Mam, dried fruit
from that stand over there. Did I interrupt an intimate
moment?" He replied, mockingly. The couple had been married
for a year and they were still in the lovey-dovey newlywed
phase.
"No, you didn't, so take that smug look of your face.
One day, you're going to like girls and I'll torment you
about it." His brother, whose name was Jeremy, slapped him
on the rump.
Malcolm soothe his raw hide with a minor healing spell
and replied, "Never, never, never. They're too much work.
Can I go now?" And before the newlyweds had time to reply,
he was off. His sister-in-law, Elise, just shook her head
and headed to the pottery shop.
Malcolm made his way to the fruit cart and ordered the
dried fruit that his mother needed. As an afterthought, he
bought some banana chips with the left-over money, "Eh, I'll
just tell Mam that the prices changed today."
As he worked out exactly what he would say, he was
toppled by an unseen force.
"AAAAA! I'm being killed! Help me! I'll give you my
banana chips, just let me go!"
"Yllaer?" The attacker asked then reached over to grab
the bag of banana chips but Malcolm flipped over and pinned
his attacker down. He became quite embarrassed when he
realized he was being mauled by a six-year-old.
"Geez, even a dog would have been honorable. Nothing
more embarrassing that getting killed by a little munchkin."
He got off him. He could hear some mother calling her son.
The boy held out his hand, "Spihc ananab."
"I don't understand you, kid. Leave me alone." The boy
got up and kicked Malcolm in the shins. "Hey! Cut that out."
"Spihc ananab! Spihc ananab tnaw i!"
"Stop kicking me!"
"Spihc ananab em evig won, Rej, spihc ananab evah dluoc
i dias uoy!"
"I don't understand you! Leave me alone!"
"He wants your banana chips," a feminine voice
answered. Malcolm turned around. He looked up at a teenage
girl with short black hair and blue eyes. She was sweating
quite profusely.
"Oh," he answered, tossing the little boy the chips,
which he began to eat.
"What is your name?" The girl asked.
"Malcolm, I'm eleven."
"#No, he is not.#"
"I don't believe you," The girl responded.
"Oh, fine, I'm ten. I'm turning eleven in two months!"
"#No, no, no. His name is not Malcolm. He is Jer.#"
"No," The girl replied, shaking her head, "I know that
your name is Jer."
"Jer? You mean as in Jeremy?" Malcolm asked, wondering
what exactly the boy behind him was saying, "because, if you
mean that, Jeremy is my older brother."
"#Jer does not have an older brother.#"
"But Master Malcolm does!" Amelia said the boy, "Does
Jer have a little brother?"
"#No. He is an only child.#"
"What are you two talking about? I've never even met
this kid!"
"We're looking for someone," The girl replied, "his
family, exactly."
"Well, I know a lot of people. Some might be missing
kids."
"No, I mean, his relatives. His parents," the girl then
whispered, as if not to scare the little boy, "are dead.
We're looking for his aunt."
"Well, maybe Jeremy can help. Or maybe my Mam can help,
she's a fortune teller. But I'm not sure, she's been going
on about how our missing cousin is coming back to visit 'to
find his innocence' or something like that."
"Well, we can always use some..." The girl began but
Jeremy came up, "Flirting with girls already? You sure got
out of that 'Anti-Girls' phase real quick..."
"Jer! She's looking for this kid's," Malcolm pointed to
the little boy, "aunt. Know of anyone whose got a missing
nephew?"
"Well, Mam does."
"He's twenty-four, you idiot, not six! And, besides, he's
not even her real nephew."
"He isn't?" The girl interrupted, "I thought he was
your cousin."
"Nah," Malcolm answered, "it's sort of complicated. My
Mam and his Da were cousins so he's like our second cousin,
once removed or something. We just call him 'cousin' because
he used to call my Mam 'auntie'. Easier for both parties."
"But," Jeremy aid, kneeling to the boy's sitting
height, "he looks a lot like him. You know, at his age."
"But, it's not him, so get off it. Don't you have to
work?"
"What's it to you?"
The girl cut in, "Your cousin. What was his name?"
Jeremy responded, "Zelgadis. I can't believe they named
him that, he must've been teased..."
"I knew it! I've found your cousin!"
"You have? Where?"
"Right here. This boy is Master Zelgadis!"
There was a pause. A tumbleweed rolled past them.
Malcolm clapped slowly.
"Uh... our cousin is twenty-four years old. I was kidding
around," Jeremy laughed nervously.
"But, it is! Look, you have to believe me! Master
Zelgadis was going to commit suicide but we found his note
before he did it and we got in and some weird woman was
there and she kissed him and then she changed appearance and
there was a silent screaming woman in the mirror and the
kissing woman grew wings and she left but Master Zelgadis
had been turned into a six year old and I'm the only one who
can understand him. You have to believe me. We don't know
what to do. We need to find his family so he can have a
normal life. And that's it."
Another pause. A prostitute was thanking a happy
customer nearby.
"O---kay. So, our twenty-four year old cousin, according to
you, has been turned into a little six year old," Malcolm
said in his "I'm-ten-nearly-eleven-years-old-so-I-know-
everything-there-is-to-know" voice.
"What's this with you being the only one to understand
him?" Jeremy asked.
"He's speak this odd language but it sounds normal to
my ears. At first, I couldn't understand but after I kissed
him good-night about two weeks ago, I could understand."
"Hey," Jeremy said to the little boy, "say something."
"Gnihtemos."
"Say something else."
"Esle gnihtemos."
"It is him! I remember this goofy language too. I'll
show you where my mother works. Come on."
"Wait! I have to call my friends!" The girl rushed to a
couple buying some meat product. The red-haired woman sighed
in exhaustion but the larger, blonde man sighed in relief.
The girl brought them over and introduced the pair to
the couple.
"I'm Lina," The red-haired woman said, "and he's
Gourry," she added before he could open his mouth. Gourry
frowned then lightened up.
"Oh, dear, I forgot, I'm Amelia."
"Amelia? You mean as is Princess Amelia of Saillune?"
"That's right."
"I'm surprised. I never thought Saillunians would go to
Hayla," Jeremy said, then his voice went to a higher pitch,
"It's so corrupt!" Amelia blushed and Malcolm realized she
probably had thought that at some point.
They went to a block of fortune telling booths and went
pass most of them until they reached a very fine booth. For
one thing, it wasn't a tent. It was a small, white-washed,
flat-top building. It looked pretty permanent. They could
see dark red curtains on the inside of the window, most
likely to give privacy.
The door was wood, painted red and had "Fortune teller:
Gifted in tarot, palm, tea leaves, and meditation. Business
days: Mon-Thur from 9am to 7pm, Fri-Sat from 9am to 10:30am,
Sun from 10am to 3pm. Exorcisms only on Sundays, first come,
first serve basis."
Jeremy opened the door and the bell jingled. It was
dark. There were one or two lavender scented candles
burning. A woman with golden hair with red streaks in the
strands sat at a small, round table. To her right were
various decks of tarot cards, to her left were tea leaves in
a porcelain bowl with a cup next to it. In the back, there
was a bookcases with a few fortune-telling books with some
white magic books to fill up space. There was no crystal
ball (having a ball is a sure sign that the teller is a
fraud. Every fortune teller knows that those things never
work!).
All in all, it was very cryptic.
The woman raised her head and looked, it seemed,
straight into Amelia's eyes, "I've been expecting you."

To be continued...

Author Notes: I love banana chips. I want some right now.
C&C are needed at destinyplot@lycos.com.