AN: *claps her hands delightedly* Nix, have you any idea how much your reviews mean to me? Both I AND my grammar-obsessed mother missed both of those---and you were perfectly right. Thank you so much!
Due to Nix's help with the last chapter, and also due to the fact that they were the ones (okay, so Nix was the one) who reviewed and so made me post this, this chapter is dedicated to both Nix and Fang. Enjoy, you two.
Why did I dedicate this to them? Simple. Because, while Nix and Fang very good friends of mine, I've also found something in both of them that's hard to find; un-bitter, honest, and friendly reviewers. I should, technically, write two dedications, since I'm speaking about two people here, but Fang and Nix are so often together---and they ply their trade so often together---that it's quite hard to separate them.
Fang is sweet, warm, and always ready with a compliment and a note, even if the work isn't your best; her outgoing kindness makes you feel as if, yes, you ARE worth something as an author, and what's more Fang believes in you, so what can you NOT accomplish? She's an encouragement and a cheerleader, and you can always count on her to find something good about your writing. Her sweetness and humor are matchless.
Fang's good-willed love is balanced out by Nix, who is something that I have met only once or twice elsewhere in the great, wide expanse of the net: an intelligent, open, brutally honest and good-natured critic. If there's a fault in your grammar or your storyline, there's a good chance Nix will find it, and what's more he's not afraid to point it out to you even at the loss of his own reputation. This may sound slightly strange to trumpet as a good thing---after all, we want praise, don't we?---but for me, a person who is hoping to make a living out of writing and therefore wants to improve, this is something special that is both hard to come by and as precious as gold. In Nix you have the ultimate critic, who holds no grudge towards you and who, if he thinks you deserve it, will lavish you with congratulations.
It's no wonder these two review together more often than not; as a pair, they manage to point out everything, both good and bad, and leave you feeling satisfied. If there's anyone who has reviewing down to an art, it's Nix and Fang.
For you both.
Time drops in decay,
Like a candle burnt out,
And the mountains and the woods
Have their day, have their day;
What one in the rout
Of the fire-born moods,
Has fallen away?
The Moods, by W. B. Yeats
Chapter Four:
Someone Is Falling
The kitchens were a busy place. Food was constantly being prepared, utensils were constantly being washed and put away and then taken out again a few moments later, onlookers and bite-snatchers were constantly being shooed out. Unlike the rest of the castle, where orderliness meant good marks, here there was a general sense of good-natured chaos, especially obvious to one who was merely looking in the window. Contrary to appearance, however, things were actually quite well set up; gatherers brought in the food needed for breakfast either early in the morning or the night before, and the preparers began working in the young hours of the day. By the time the rest of the castle was up, the ones responsible for setting out the food and such, usually younger maren, had done their duty, and the cooking utensils from breakfast were being washed up. Near the tail end of breakfast the second round of gathered harvest was brought in, and the entire process was started all over again.
Despite the fact that this was all well thought out and everything usually got done on time, it is a fact, probably scientifically proven, that cooking and baking and cleaning and preparing food for several hundred people can simply not be done flawlessly in one enclosed space, even if that space is the size of a small warehouse. Things always managed to get burned, and pans always managed to get misplaced, and food always managed to get ruined somehow or other; a perfectionist wouldn't have stood a chance working in a kitchen of this size and chaos amount. Which is probably the reason why all of the kitchen workers seemed to be bright, artistic people, always willing to take a chance and experiment. More then once this had resulted in a meal that was less than stellar, but that was once in a blue moon; these maren knew what they were doing. They'd been doing it for quite some time, after all.
Just because the kitchen attendants had to be fairly bright and good-natured didn't mean that the gatherers had to be. Out at late nights or early hours, they tended to drop their burdens and leave, unless something extremely good happened to be cooking. Who could blame them?
Tyler, however, was always bad-tempered, even when he'd gotten a good night's sleep, so Chaotica was not at all surprised when the brown-haired maren shoved his basket onto the table and waited impatiently for her to approve of his bringing before slumping off. She gave the flap cake she was making a flip and hurried over to check, knowing she didn't have much time before the cake burned. Tyler may have been bad-tempered, but he usually brought good materials, so she wasn't worried.
Today, however, he broke his record. She regarded the berries piled in the basket with distaste. "You call these cherries?"
"No, I call them apples," retorted Tyler. "Maybe you call them cherries."
Chaotica, as usual, took the snap without turning a hair. "No, I call them dried, withered shells of what might ONCE have been cherries." She held up one of the berries, wrinkling her nose at it; it was a cherry, certainly, but its skin had begun to dry and wrinkle, making it resemble a raisin more than anything else. Chaotica was not at all pleased.
Tyler shrugged. "So they're dried cherries. So what."
"So I'm making turnovers! You can't make turnovers with dried cherries!" She waved the berry exasperatedly, trying to explain her baking woes to one who was not at all interested in the culinary arts. "They'll taste like---like---shoe leather! With little beady things in it!"
"So it'll taste like shoe leather with little beady things in it," returned Tyler. "Get over it."
"I---oh!" She exhaled an irritated breath. "Crecy, come over here and take a look at this!"
The boy called for raised his head from where he was bent over a bowl of dough, folding in an ingredient. "Yes?"
"Look at this!" She held the offending berry high. "How can I make a turnover with berries like this?"
He blinked at the berry. "Uh…well, you put it in the dough, and you fold it over and bake it, and---"
"Cre-CY!"
"---and then you hope that no one eats the turnovers and goes for the rolls instead!" he finished cheerfully. Chaotica groaned.
"Although, really, that is kind of bad," he admitted, leaving his mixing to come over and sympathize with a fellow cook. "I mean…really." He picked up one and looked at it closely, almond-shaped eyes narrowing distastefully. "Couldn't you get any better ones?" he addressed Tyler.
"They were all like that," replied Tyler sulkily. "They're the best I could find!"
"Really?" Chaotica raised an eyebrow disbelievingly. "Come on, these are the worst I've ever seen! Where were you looking, Stick Canyon?"
"No, Spring Valley! Where I always find them!"
Another gatherer came up behind him, nodding. "He's right---all of them are looking miserable. Look, mine are the same." He tilted his basket, revealing a pile of cherries that were just as withered and hard as Tyler's. "We couldn't find a good tree anywhere."
Chaotica looked startled. "That's not right. They're always ripe!"
"Maybe the storm had something to do with it?" offered Crecy.
"I don't think so." The other gatherer, a boy named Keric, shook his head. "A rainstorm shouldn't affect them like that---never has before. And it's not just the cherry trees, either---I noticed a lot of vegetation looking sick. All droopy and withered, like they're not getting the right nutrients or something."
"That's just plain wrong. They were fine yesterday."
"I know." Keric frowned at his gathering basket. "I don't know what's wrong with them. It's like the whole valley's just lost something from the dirt. It's really weird."
"Mm-hm." Tyler's eyes directed themselves towards a spot over Chaotica's shoulder. "Say, you wouldn't happen to have anything on the stove, would you, now?"
"What?" Chaotica whirled to find her cake going up in smoke. "Oh---fine, they'll do!" She dashed over to stifle the billows that were now rolling from off the oven, to the amusement of the rest of the kitchen workers. Crecy chuckled and went back to his mixing, and Tyler, with a breath of relief, went off to join the other maren to wait for breakfast.
Keric remained behind, rolling a withered cherry between his fingers. It was some time before he finally put it down, a thoughtful expression on his face.
Spring Valley was relatively quiet. A few Minions were patrolling here and there, on the look-out for Dreamers or the occasional group of Nightopians. More quiet and less menacing animals roamed about as well; deer, boar, hares. Birds chattered in the trees about bird matters.
From the Ideya Palace, the rest of the world looked like one giant, all-encompassing movie seen through a round screen. Sounds were not muffled, but for some reason NiGHTS almost had the feeling they were, anyway, just from the odd sense of watching things through a pane of glass.
'Or from a fishbowl,' he added dryly, watching without much interest as a group of Nightopians was chased by a renegade Gao. 'I suppose this is how Gulpo must feel all the time. You have to pity him now.'
'Who's you?' he returned, wincing as a Nightopian went up in a cloud of sparkling dust and a shriek. 'You're talking to yourself, NiGHTS. And now I'm talking to myself like I'm someone else. Wizeman, I'm already losing it!'
The crowd of Nightopians fluttered by, trying---and failing---to keep ahead of the Gao that had already killed one of them. NiGHTS, in a sudden flair of anger, shot to the edge of the enclosure and made a snarling face at the Gao.
The sudden appearance of a nightmaren, and a ticked one, was enough to send the Gao tumbling backwards over itself in surprise. Without further ado it turned tail and ran.
The Nightopians also scattered, although their technique for retreat was far less efficient; several of them tripped over themselves or others as they tried to run in terror. NiGHTS, feeling rather satisfied, if a bit bemused by the fact that he'd apparently scared the living wits out of the creatures he was trying to help, sat back and watched them.
One of the Nightopians pulled himself up out of the weeds he'd landed in to find the nightmaren sitting calmly, hands locked about his knees and watching the scramble to flee with an expression bordering on sadness. After a moment, his tiny brains managed to work through the conundrum.
"You were scaring away the Gao, weren't you?" he piped up, placing his hands on the ground between his knees to shove his round body up off the ground, staggering upright like a baby learning to walk. NiGHTS, slightly surprised that one of them had figured things out, nodded.
"Yes."
"Well, thanks!" The Nightopian moved closer, carefully avoiding the barrier he knew was there; he'd been one of the Nightopians throwing themselves against it yesterday. "My name's Nip. Nice to meet you!"
"Nice to meet you too. My name's NiGHTS."
"Night?"
"No, NiGHTS. All of the letters are capitalized except for the 'I'."
"Oh." Nip took this in with a slightly confused air, but as expected did not hold that air for long. "That's a neat name. I have a brother named Tuck---you wanna meet him?"
"Sure."
"M'kay. TUCK!"
A small, egg-shaped head popped out of the foliage above them at Nip's shrill call. "What?
"Come down here! This guy's nice!"
"M'kay." The Nightopian worked his way out of the trees and fluttered down to them, looking up at NiGHTS with less curiosity than his brother had shown. "Hi."
"Hello." NiGHTS waved a bit, silently wondering what Reala would think if he saw his brother now, chit-chatting with Nightopians. The thought of his brother twisted something in his chest, and he winced; but the glass case held strong. Don't go there yet. He focused back on the two dream creatures in front of him.
"---and he was trying to scare the Gao, not us!" finished Nip. "So we owe him one."
"M'kay." Tuck didn't seem duly impressed by this news, but he didn't seem annoyed either. In fact, he seemed rather quiet for a Nightopian altogether.
"So why are you here?" questioned Nip suddenly, whirling on NiGHTS as he changed the subject of conversation. The question caused NiGHTS to stumble.
"Well…it's kind of a long story."
"That's what they all say. Go on." Tuck settled down next to the invisible barrier, and as he did several more Nightopians fluttered from the trees, enticed by the prospect of a story. NiGHTS nodded once, acknowledging Tuck's statement.
"Okay, so it's not that long. Could be, but I'll try to make it short." He straightened his shoulders, thinking. "Well, it started just a few weeks ago…"
"Miss Luna?"
The sparring instructor turned at the voice, recognizing it instantly. "Aster?"
The girl stood in the door of the library, her hands clasped behind her back, her tone quiet. A patch was bound about her forehead, covering her left eye. "Hi."
A smile broke on Luna's face, and she patted the chair next to hers. "Come, sit down. How are you feeling?"
"All right." She sat down carefully, hands folded in her lap. Luna looked at her knowingly.
"That's all?"
"Welllllll…" She fingered the hem of her shirt. "I still have a headache, and I feel kind of sore. That's all, though."
"Mm-hm. What's the bandage for?"
Aster winced. "Light hurts it."
"Ah." Luna nodded, deciding not to venture any further into such a painful topic. For a moment neither of them spoke.
Finally Aster opened her mouth, her fingers still working the hem nervously, head bowed. "What do you think I'll do now?"
"What do you mean?"
"I can't…" She took a breath and got it out in one desperate heave. "I can't fight or use a pike anymore."
"Lance." Luna touched her hand gently. "Of course you can still fight, Aster. Just because your vision's a little impaired doesn't mean you're not a great fighter."
"Really?"
She leaned back, nearly smiling. "Come on, girl. You took a golgoth head on. You think I'd let someone that promising just walk off because she's lost her eye? I have more respect for good fighters, thank you."
"Oh, wow…thanks!" Aster lifted her head, her entire posture changing. Luna smiled as the girl she remembered came back to life. "I promise I'll try really hard to make up for not seeing as well!"
"You'll do fine. Think of Miss Calysta." Miss Calysta was a fighter from the older generations, who had reputedly lost an eye in a fight with an Equs; her bandanna-swathed visage was cheerful and battle-scarred, and she held a very good reputation with the younger maren.
Aster's visible eye lit up. "Oh, that's right!" She smiled. "Yeah, I guess I'll do fine."
She peered down curiously at the book open in front of her instructor. "So what's that?
Luna ran a hand through her eternally tangled hair, sighing. "I'm trying to find any possible information on the beasts we used to fight. Now that we've had a second attack, I'd rather be prepared."
"Oh." Aster's expression fell. She hadn't personally known Ernest well, but she'd spoken with him once or twice. Luna saw a tear glisten in the corner of her eye before silently falling to the table-top.
She sighed again. "Since none of the younger students have even fought anything other than Minions or a brainless animal, they'll have no idea how to take on a dreambeast. I'm trying to figure out what they'll need to know."
"Dreambeast?" repeated Aster, wrinkling her nose quizzically. "I thought that those were all dead."
Luna tapped the book thoughtfully. "We all did. Apparently we were wrong."
"Oh." She started as a thought came to her. "So does that mean that we're going to have dragons and golems and stuff again? I thought that was over!"
"I'm not sure. We thought we destroyed all of them…but now that this golgoth's popped up, and then another nightmaren was attacked on his own, well. I guess that means we don't know as much about this world as we thought."
"But where could it come from?" Aster slid her chair closer, now fully enthralled with the mystery currently puzzling her idol. "The Hunters went through the entire Dream World, didn't they?"
"That's a lot of space to cover, Aster. It's believable that a creature or two managed to hide in some crevice somewhere. What surprises me is that it only came out now…and there's more than one of them," she added, half to herself.
"Mm." Aster made a small noise of thoughtfulness; then she looked back up at her teacher. "So why did the Hunters kill them all anyway?"
"What do you mean?"
"Well, they had just as many rights to the land as we did, didn't they? I mean they were here before Wizeman started creating us, so it's kind of their property."
Luna smiled, pleased by her student's kindness. "That's true, Aster. But it wasn't like that. Trust me, I know."
Her eyes became clouded, as if she were thinking over something that had happened a very long time ago and was struggling to remember it fully. "I was alive back then. I was made some time during the Discovery Age, you know. That was right before the Taming Age."
"Uh-huh." Aster pulled her knees up to her chest and locked her arms about them, hoping to hear more.
"We were just exploring the farthest corners of the Dream World then…there were still places we hadn't found, and creatures we didn't know about. That was an exciting age; there were still reports about new things and rumors of new places, and there was a lot of fighting around the borders that we'd set up…A lot of the beasts living in the lands around us didn't want us there. But then, they didn't want anyone else there, either, and there was always infighting."
She sighed. "The dreambeasts weren't like the creatures we have now, Aster. There are the mindless animals, like the deer that live in the forests, and then there are the dream creatures, like the Minions or the Nightopians. The dreambeasts didn't fit into either category."
"Why not?"
"They were like the animals in that they had little or no ability to talk or any strong sense of intelligence, only instinct; but they were different from animals, because they had dream-energy bodies, and some of them were smart. They were all mean, though."
"Was that a reason to kill them all?"
"Not at first. We stayed in our own lands, and they stayed in theirs for the most part, paying more attention to killing each other than us…then they started to attack us whenever possible, and things just went downhill from there. They seemed to have an innate desire to kill nightmaren; I guess because they had already brutalized each other so much that we seemed like a pretty interesting new prospect."
"They were really that mean?"
Luna looked at her. "You met that golgoth, Aster. That was a fairly reasonable dreambeast."
Aster winced. "Oh."
"Yes. Some were worse. The Shadowkin would slip into the castle and then kill maren in dark corners, or poison the food if they could…and the Equs were brutal. They were intelligent, and actually spoke quite fluently, but they were monsters all the same. Any creature that wasn't an Equs and who stepped into their vision was quickly and unceremoniously either beheaded or gutted." Aster's mouth tightened in disgust. "The Intus weren't that bad, considering…but there were few of them. The more warlike races killed them all off. And the Inveiglen were simply vengeful. You got one of them mad at you, and they would torment you for a century if they had the chance…"
"Miss Luna?"
The sparring instructor came out of her reverie, focusing on her student once more. "Yes?"
"That wasn't me."
"Miss Luna?"
She turned to the doorway, where another of her students stood. "Oh. Yes?"
"Miss Stella wants to see you, ma'am."
"Again?" She looked startled as she pushed back her chair; then, remembering Aster, she turned and smiled. "Aster, why don't you study this book for a little bit? I think you'll find it interesting, and it would be good for you to learn a bit about some of those creatures."
"All right." She picked up to book and headed for the nearest plush chair, ready to curl up and learn about the past. Luna felt a small surge of pride in her student's eagerness to gain knowledge before she turned and headed for the door. "Thank you."
"You're welcome." The boy, whom she noted as being the one who'd startled her in the blackberry patch a day or two back, bowed respectfully before heading down the hall. She turned and went the other way.
Stella was waiting patiently in the doorway of the Infirmary, her eyes showing that she was perturbed. Luna nodded to her in greeting. "You needed to speak to me?"
Stella nodded in her turn. "Ay. I was inspectin' th' wound---" here she tossed her head at the curtain in the corner, indicating the body that lay behind. "---an' I found summat interestin'."
"What?"
"There was another bite right in th' side, next t' th' larger one." She indicated the spot on her own body with her hand. "'Twas a small gnash, like summat'd bit him b'fore the larger one did. S'been so long since I've seen any of the shadowbeasts, I'm no sure of miself anymore…but it looked like a Shadowkin's bite."
The kitchens were expectedly busy, but Morgen was a normal visitor and didn't cause any amount of trouble. Chaotica grinned when she saw him hovering near a tray of pastries that had just been taken out of the oven; then, when she saw what they were, she frowned. "Oh, those."
"What's this?"
"Cherry turnovers. They aren't very good though, I warn you."
Morgen smiled. "Come, now, you haven't made a meal that wasn't fabulous since you were knee-high."
"I was never knee-high, Morgen." Chaotica slumped on one elbow, grinning at him from over the counter she was working at. "And trust me, they aren't good." She had to smirk as the silver-haired maren took a bite. "See?"
Morgen chewed thoughtfully, looking upwards toward the ceiling as if in deep thought. "Hmmm…"
"I told you."
"Yes, you told me they didn't taste good." He looked at the turnover in his hand with one eye appraisingly. "You lied."
"They taste good?"
"Sure."
"You're lying."
"I am not lying."
She looked at him, surprised at the truth in his eyes. "You're not lying."
"No. I'm not." He looked back down at the turnover. "But the texture leaves something to be desired."
Chaotica groaned, slapping her forehead. "I KNEW it!"
"Knew what?" Heckler leaned over the counter that opened in between the kitchens and Dining Hall, several of the younger maren behind him.
"The turnovers." She sighed, rubbing her eyes. "He says they taste bad."
"I did not!" protested Morgen. "I simply said that the texture left something to be desired!"
Heckler shrugged. "Always something else to eat."
"He's got a point," confided Morgen to a glowering Chaotica.
She flicked her hand at them in a dismissive gesture, turning away to begin folding pastry dough. "I'm ignoring you."
"Thanks." Heckler shoved his hands onto the counter and pulled himself up, rolling over to sit on the edge. Chaotica would normally yell at him to get off.
Morgen grinned, fingers flickering in a quick waving motion; a glint of silver shone from their tips. With a snap, the coin he had been rolling on his fingers disappeared. With another wave it reappeared. He often played with a coin when he was standing still.
Heckler gestured for the coin. "Can I see?"
"Sure." Morgen handed it over and watched as the younger maren began performing small tricks, hands moving gracefully to make the coin disappear into thin air, pulling it out of peoples' ears and pretending to swallow it and then find it in his pocket. Terrance, who had moved up beside him, spoke softly.
"He's good."
"Quite." Morgen watched closely as Heckler made the coin spin on his finger and then vanish, only to be found in a nearby mug. "He's got magic in his fingers."
"If only he would use some of that magic in class," muttered Tessa as she passed by, shooting her new student a glare as she did. Heckler was too busy with something else to notice.
Morgen smiled suddenly as Heckler, with a flourish, made a flower appear from his sleeve; Jitters, close behind, did not notice that a jonquil was missing from the bouquet she was holding. Heckler looked about, seeming to confer with himself. "Hm…let's see…who's in need of a flower? Oh, anyone'll do. Catch, Chaotica."
Chaotica, who had joined in with the others to watch, against her protest, caught the flower he'd tossed at her. Heckler gestured to his wrist, making the coin appear once more, and so no one saw him wink at Chaotica before turning his attention back to the trick. Morgen, however, caught it.
"Yes, he's certainly very good," he said smilingly, turning back to the kitchens with a pleased look on his face. "Have you tried the turnovers?"
"No---are they that good?"
"Let's just say you should try for yourself."
"Lemme see." Terrance caught the turnover Morgen tossed him. He took a bite, chewed thoughtfully, and then swallowed. He said nothing.
Chaotica waited. "Well?"
"Well, let's put it this way." He looked at the pastry in his hand studiously before looking up at her, his face wide in innocence. "It tastes like old shoe leather. With little beady things in it."
Dusty yellow light streaked across the table.
The library was mostly lit by tall, fat beeswax candles nestled in groves built into the stone and sitting on various side tables and empty spaces on shelves. Large windows opened up on one wall, but the shelves blocked most daylight from reaching anywhere further than a few yards into the room, and so the candles were used.
There was, however, a long wooden table set in an open space by the windows for those who were annoyed by the almost imperceptible flicker of the beeswax. The space was often used for group discussions; this evening, however, it was almost abandoned.
Not completely. One maren sat near the middle, books spread out on either side of him, several mugs and dishes among the dusty tomes stating the fact that he'd been here for some time. A half-eaten roll was still sitting forlornly on its plate, and a mug of blackberry tea sat at his elbow. He wasn't drinking it, however. His attention was focused wholly on the book open in front of him.
"There you are."
Jackle jumped about two feet straight up off his chair, landing with a gasp; he bent over the table's edge, running one hand through his invisible hair, shoulders shaking. "For the love of Wizeman, Clawz, if you EVER do that again…" he gritted through his teeth.
The cat-maren's expression was slightly apologetic, mostly offended. "Well excuse me if you haven't the sense to hear someone walking right up to your shoulder."
Jackle sighed and leaned back, continuing to work his gloved fingers through his hair. His hat was hung carelessly on the chair next to him. "I was---focused on reading. I never noticed you."
"Yeah, that was apparent enough," Clawz retorted, peering over the demi-maren's shoulder. "What are you reading?"
"Mm? Stuff. History."
"When?"
"Taming Age," replied Jackle, secretly a bit surprised by the fact that Clawz was, for once, not trying to find some sort of argument to start. "Near the first hundred years."
"Mm-hm." Clawz squinted at the spidery handwriting. "How d'you read that?"
"It's a bit tough, but you get used to a particular hand pretty fast."
"Well yeah, but…" He looked closer. "That doesn't even look like it's in Dreamen."
"It's not."
"It isn't?"
"No. It's a human language of some sort---they call it Latin. I don't think it's used much anymore."
"Oh." The cat-maren settled down onto his haunches, still studying the book. "When did you learn it?"
"Taught myself."
"Taught yourself? How?"
"I found some book on it…Latin Priming or something, I think the title was…no idea where we got it. It was on the shelves here." He gestured with a crimson-tipped hand. "It didn't teach me near everything, but I can get the gist of things. It's a really weird language."
"Yeah, looks like it." He cocked his head to one side. "So it's about the Taming Age, and it's in a human language? That doesn't make any sense."
"I know." Jackle frowned at the pages. "The signature's a name I never heard of, but it speaks like the author was a 'maren. But who knows Latin?"
"Got me."
"Yeah, it's got me too. Never know what you'll find on these shelves. Still, it is helpful, lot of information and stuff to help me remember…I figured it would be good to review, now that we had a golgoth. No telling what else may come around."
"Didn't you hear?" Clawz blinked at him. "There was another attack yesterday."
The demi-maren's eyes widened. "What?"
"You didn't know? A boy went missing, and they found him dead in the northern part of the Forest. Rumor says it looked like a golgoth kill."
"Dead…and by another golgoth, too. What the Ideya is going on here?"
"I have no clue."
Jackle looked back down at his book, and the cat-maren noticed his eyes suddenly become glazed, as if he were not focusing on the book in front of him but rather something beneath the table.
Certainly a conundrum, isn't it?
'There you are,' Jackle replied through thought. 'Been awhile.'
Well, you didn't call for us. We knew you'd call if you needed our presence.
'Mm-hm.' He fiddled with the book corner absently. 'Do you know anything about this?'
Unfortunately, no. It's disturbing, however.
Jackle's eyes focused vaguely on a blur of color in front of his eyes, following it without really thinking about the motion. 'Yeah. I mean, one I can handle, but two? That's bad.'
Don't worry. Wizeman has everything under control.
'True…but it's just weird. I mean, where are they coming from?'
It will be found out soon enough.
'I hope so…'
Clawz raised an eyebrow as Jackle, instead of blinking, followed his paw with a distant air, as if he weren't even aware of the fact that his companion was waving a hand in front of his face. He stopped, realizing it was pointless, and tried something else. "Jackle? You in there?"
The demi-maren blinked as Clawz spoke to him. 'Oh yeah, forgot about him.'
May as well answer.
"Yeah," he said out loud, still gazing aimlessly at the table-top. Clawz nodded uncertainly.
"Uh…huh. Just checking. Um…I have to go check the agility training---see you later."
"Bye." Jackle gave an absent-minded wave of his hand, still staring.
He closed his eyes slowly. 'I just don't like it. Two golgoths in a few days isn't right. There's something wrong here.'
Wizeman will take care of it, soothed the voices. Just relax and learn what you can. He's got everything under control.
If you say so. Jackle returned to his quiet study of the Latin book. Dusty yellow light streaked across the table.
"What's so interesting, Varia?"
The object of Heckler's question started. "Nothing," she replied, too hurriedly for the boy's taste.
"Oh, come on." He nudged her. "What're you looking at?"
"I said nothing!"
He blinked at her sudden resentment, and then tried to peer over her shoulder out the window. She shoved him away and turned to stalk down the hall.
Heckler gazed after her before looking out the window; for a moment, he simply stared.
"Oh, dear Ideya," he whispered. "Not him."
"Did you find him?"
Clawz nodded as he stalked to his chair, shooting Puffy a warning glance as he did. She returned it with one of confusion; he jerked his head towards the giant creature currently resting in front of the fire. Understanding dawned on her face, and she nodded.
The cat-maren addressed their topic of silent conversation as he curled up on the red velvet. "Gillwing, have you collected your Ideya yet today?"
"Uh-huh!"
"Ah." Clawz smiled kindly at him. "I'm one short…I have to go back out and get it before dark. But my paw hurts something dreadful from that awful thorn I stepped on…"
"You hurt your paw?" Gillwing's dull face filled with worry. "You should go to the Infirmary!"
"It's just a thorn…but it hurts to walk on it…" He winced to show his pain.
Gillwing fluttered his wings in anxiety. "You shouldn't walk!"
"Yeah, but I have to get that last Ideya…"
"What'll you do?"
Puffy, at this point, perceived that Clawz would need a bit more help. "Gillwing, I have a wonderful idea! Why don't you get one for him? You're so fast, I'm sure you could do it easily!"
Understanding dawned on the reptilian creature's face. "I can get you your Ideya!"
"Would you be so kind?" Clawz looked hopeful.
"Sure!" Gillwing got up and began ambling for the door. "You just wait right there, Clawz, and don't walk!"
"I won't," called Clawz as the other maren exited.
As soon as the door had closed, Gulpo rose to the top of his tank to make an observation. "I think I'm going to be scarred for life."
"Shut up," returned Puffy. "We got him to go, at least." She turned to face Clawz. "Well? How was he?"
"Weird." Clawz, whose paw seemed to be giving him no trouble now, had switched abruptly from cheerful to solemn. "He was at the window table, surrounded by dozens of books; he had some plates and mugs with him, too. He was reading a book on the Taming Age when I came up, but it wasn't in Dreamen---it was in some human language called Latin."
"Latin?" Puffy's ears straightened a bit in interest. "I've heard of it before. But he was reading it?"
"Yeah, said he taught himself the language with a book he'd found somewhere. He talked about it for a little bit; he was like himself, very quiet and collected. Anyway, he didn't know about the second attack. But that's not the weirdest part," he hurried to add, when he saw Puffy about to interrupt. "When I told him about it, he got very quiet, and started gazing at the table like he was zoning out. After almost a minute he hadn't even blinked, so I waved my paw in front of his face; he didn't do anything, just followed my paw with a sort of half-asleep look about him. Finally I spoke to him, and he said 'yeah'. But he didn't stop looking like he was in a daze. I said goodbye, and he did too, and when I left he was still staring at that same table."
The two listening looked away reflectively, but processing what Clawz had just said. He sighed and settled against the chair back. "I don't know, but it's very disturbing. It was like I got the feeling he was listening to someone else at the same time or something."
"Do you think…Reala was right?" murmured Puffy. Clawz shrugged slowly.
"I've no idea, Puffy. I've never met an insane maren before. He acted perfectly normal until I mentioned the attack…"
"Maybe he's just stressed."
At Puffy's remark, Gulpo gave a derisive snort and ducked back underwater. Puffy and Clawz glanced at each other, used to the fish having his own ideas and opinions. Still, acting strange under pressure just didn't seem to fit, somehow.
Wizeman held a hand up to his face, willing the eye in the center to open. Its surface became clear, and slowly a picture of Nightmare Castle's courtyard began to form within.
The picture became clearer, and with some thought he focused it upon a few young nightmaren lounging about on one of the stone benches. They were sitting in a sloppy sort of circle, talking. With some concentration he was able to hear what they were saying.
"It's just so weird, y'know?"
"Yeah…I mean, he just up and did it! He was just fine until right then, they say---why'd he just up and do it then?"
"Maybe he knew something we don't?"
"Like that's not normal."
"Shut up, Heckler. Like what, Aniline?"
"I dunno…something. Something important. Or maybe he just didn't want anyone else getting hurt, what with that golgoth thing attacking."
"Now there's an idea."
"So why didn't Wizeman stop him? If he's so all-fired great, why didn't he jump up and say, 'Hey, you, I created you and I control you, so give me back those Ideya!' Why'd he just let NiGHTS go like that if he wanted those things so badly? Sounds like Wizeman's gotten kind of senile, if you ask me."
The hand clenched into a fist, successfully erasing the image. The boy's harsh voice lingered on in Wizeman's thoughts, however.
' "Gotten senile"…they dare? Not only do they dare think it, but they DARE say such out loud? Has the leaders' influence become that weak? Has discipline become so loose that they dare say such in casual conversation?'
The hand drifted down to join the others, eyes half-closed now in thought. Anger was showing raw in their depths. 'First NiGHTS, and now the young ones. They've all become tainted. Flawed creations, all of them.'
He softened that thought after a moment. 'The High Seekers are still loyal…so I believe. Perhaps I should speak to them. But as for the crowds…'
A frown etched itself into his stony mouth. 'If I could kill them all…How can I conquer the Waking World with a rebellious army of tainted creations? If I don't handle this carefully, the results could be catastrophic…'
And so he began to ponder the future.
Reala's stride was firm and even, never pausing for a moment, never faltering. He entered his room and shut the door with a firm shove.
And was promptly covered in darkness.
"Shards," he cursed, realizing that the sweeping draft created by his closing the door so quickly had blown out the lone candle that had lit the room. With hands outstretched, he began feeling his way over to the table where tinder and flint were laid.
He bumped against several objects, but managed to make his way there and re-light the candle; moving about the room, he touched the small flame to the lamps and lanterns that lit his chambers, their fuel refreshed every day by some of the younger maren whose job it was to simply supply fuel for all the lights in the castle. It was actually a fairly large job.
He placed the candle on the edge of his bed-stand and sat on the bed, legs hanging over the side, eyes staring at the floor in thoughtfulness. The students had not been at all cooperative today; and he knew why.
They no longer trusted their leaders. NiGHTS sudden imprisonment and then Ernest's death had made them all unsure of their leaders' ability to lead; some of them had even gone so far as to ask him why everything had happened the way it did. He brushed them off with a harsh snap, and they quieted, but he could feel questioning glances and cold stares on his back all day long. He was losing his grip.
Snarling and shoving his way back into respect didn't work, either. They wanted a leader who could protect, not be powerful, and they felt he wasn't good enough. His lip curled into a snarl. 'Not good enough…who are they to judge?'
He rubbed the toe of his boot against the shining floor, still sneering at the ground. 'What do they know of being a leader? They never went through anything near the pain I experienced to reach this height of perfection; they have no idea what they're talking about! The fools, they're merely soldiers in a vast army!'
He gripped the silken coverlet tight between his fingers, claws threatening to tear through the expensive material. He did not care. "Curse you, NiGHTS, even trapped in a room four feet high you're still causing trouble!"
NiGHTS sat quietly, legs crossed, staring at the Nightopians that had gathered about the Ideya Palace. All of them were sound asleep.
"I can just see it now," he muttered quietly. "NiGHTS and his Nightopian Patrol."
"At least they work for cheap," replied a low voice. NiGHTS glanced aside to find Tuck sitting next to the barrier, quite awake. "Just make 'em happy and you don't even have to give them wages."
"S'not true," protested Nip sleepily, giving his brother a weak shove. "We'd want pay. But still…" He yawned babyishly, a round hand covering his mouth. "We don't mind staying…you're nice, NiGHTS. You tell good stories."
"He means that you don't forget what you're trying to talk about like most Nightopian storytellers," confided Tuck, but Nip had already closed his eyes. NiGHTS smiled.
"Glad to hear it. And I'm glad you're here."
"Well, no reason not to be, eh?" Tuck settled down on himself, hands folded over his small round stomach. "S'not like we have anything more important to do."
"True." NiGHTS chuckled quietly. "Apart from sing, of course. And fling yourselves at walls."
"Nah, that last one's a new one," replied the Nightopian, his eyes slowly fluttering shut. "Actually, it's kinda fun, I have to admit."
"Don't forget who was brave enough to try it out first," reminded Nip, eyes still closed. Tuck shot him a sleepy glare.
"Oh, shut up."
NiGHTS smiled again and stretched out, hands flung out at his sides, staring up at the plain blue ceiling of his prison. At least it was a peaceful night.
His dreams were pleasant. The children were happy, and they were very brave.