2
Lurien the Watcher, Adviser to the King, and newly appointed Royal Babysitter, trudged the dreary streets of the City of Tears.
Trailing to his right—and already drenched from puddle jumping—was the bug-child Hornet. Water had darkened her cloak to a deep maroon, making it cling to her arms and back like a slather of clay. She looked a ridiculous sight, hardly emblematic of her supposed origins. Yet, her hiccup-punctuated laughter had a warming quality to it that cut the chill of the City's air.
To Lurien's left walked the Vessel, keeping perfect pace, matching his every step. It watched Hornet's play with fixed interest but did not take part.
Lurien dragged himself from the spiral of his worries. He cleared his throat. "So, Princess, is this your first visit to the City?"
Hornet's head perked up at the question, but she pretended not to hear, and splashed on with methodical diligence.
"Princess?" Lurien asked, a bit louder. "Have you been to the City before?"
"There aren't any princesses here," Hornet said as she stared down into a puddle, watching her own reflection through the ripples. "I don't know who you're talking to, but I'm just Hornet."
Lurien hummed. "Very well, Hornet. Are you new to the City?"
Hornet spun to face him, nearly overbalancing. "Yes! This place is so very big! I've never seen anything like it before! It's bigger than home, even bigger than the palace!" She looked up into the endless dark overhead, and fresh raindrops speckled her mask. "Where does all the water come from?"
"A construction blunder," Lurien replied with a snort.
Hornet clasped her toy nail behind her back. "What does that mean?"
Lurien considered how best to explain. A great number of mistakes—many his own—had plunged the City into its current state. He could expound on negligent architecture and rock permeability, but he supposed that was not the heart of Hornet's question. "The water comes from a lake far, far above," Lurien said. "It leaks through this cavern's ceiling as an endless rain. Had I known in advance that I was to be an escort then I would have brought umbrellas. If luck favors us, then we may pass a shop where I might purchase a pair."
Hornet shrugged and returned to splashing. "Why bother? It's just water. It can't hurt."
"The bugs of the City have delicate constitutions. They do not respond well to the wet and the cold."
Something seemed to occur to Hornet, and she straightened. "Actually, Spirit might want one. You should ask them."
"'Spirit'?"
Hornet pointed past Lurien. "They're right beside you," she giggled.
Lurien glanced over his shoulder, half expecting to lock eyes with some uninvited companion. But instead, the obvious made itself apparent.
There was only the Vessel to stare up at him.
"A sobriquet?" Lurien mused. "Really?"
"Sobri-what?"
"A nickname. You granted the Vessel one?"
"Oh, yes! A good idea, right?" Hornet adopted a stately pose. "The King is always calling them 'Pure Vessel', but how is that even a name? I decided to change it to 'Spirit'. You know, because they're always so quiet."
"Interesting," Lurien said. "I doubt the Vessel has much desire for a name. Nor an umbrella for that matter."
Hornet crossed her arms. "How do you know? You haven't even asked them."
"Vessels cannot desire. It is intrinsic in their design."
"The King says that too, but I know it isn't true. Here, watch!" Hornet leaned around Lurien to get a clear view of the Vessel. "Hey, Spirit!"
And to Lurien's surprise, the Vessel responded. To a designation entirely incorrect.
"You want an umbrella for the rain, right?" Hornet pantomimed to enhance the effect. "Nod for yes."
The Vessel nodded with the thoughtless exuberance of a silk-bound marionette. The act launched droplets of rain from the tips of its horns.
Hornet puffed up. "Ha! See? I told you so."
But Lurien shook his head. "The Vessel is not expressing a desire. It is merely obeying your command to—" but Lurien cut himself off. There was no point in belaboring this argument. If the King had already trod this ground without success, then Lurien knew he would fare no better. "Never mind. Let us continue."
"Alright," Hornet said, with a wary lilt. "But if we find an umbrella shop then you better buy Spirit one. Like you promised."
Lurien did not concede the point and resumed walking. It occurred to him that hunting umbrellas might not be so grand an idea after all.
As the trio rounded a street corner bathed in the ethereal light of a Lumafly lantern, it became clear to Lurien that fate had aligned itself against him. For, in the distance he spied a sign dangling from a metal awning. The sign was made of shellwood and swung gently in a phantom breeze. A certain, unmistakable shape had been carved into it.
Lurien hastened his step, hoping Hornet would be too invested in her puddles to glance up.
But it was only a heartbeat before a shrill cut the air. "Wait! Look!" Hornet pointed her nail at the sign. "This must be a shop. See the umbrella on it?"
Lurien ground to a halt. "Oh. I had not noticed."
"That's okay. I almost missed it too." She crossed the street in balletic strides and pressed her mask against the dim glass of a bay window. "Is it closed?"
"Very likely. Perhaps it is best to push forward. The faster our journey, the less of it we will spend in the rain."
Hornet disregarded the advice and slipped her toy nail into a loop of silk sewn onto the back of her cloak. She sidled over to the shop's heavy, engraved door and grasped its handle in both claws. With far more effort than was necessary, Hornet tugged. The door flew open on well-oiled hinges and Hornet tumbled to the cobbles with a splash.
"Princess!" Lurien shouted. Despite his clutching robes, he rushed after her.
The Vessel followed, and even outpaced him, reaching the child's side and sliding to a halt.
"You must be careful." Lurien chided, as he helped Hornet to stand.
She suppressed a sniffle. "I'm okay. I'm okay. And I already said! I'm not a princess!"
Lurien shook water from his claws and scanned the girl from head to foot. She seemed unhurt, but that did not stop Lurien's anxiety from flitting about his chest like a bewildered Squit. Doubtless, the King would not look kindly upon his daughter returning home covered in injuries. Lurien could only imagine the potential punishments a failure that egregious would merit.
Hornet wrung most of the water out of her cloak before making a second—far gentler—attempt at the door. Once she had propped it open, she beckoned to the Vessel. "Come on. We'll get you that umbrella."
The Vessel obeyed and the two vanished into the store, leaving Lurien alone to stare into space.
A vision of booming condemnations, gleaming saw blades, and spike pits danced through Lurien's mind. It took heroic effort to shake it off and return to the present. He reminded himself that it would do no good to brood about what might come. He had a responsibility to fulfill, and so long as he kept his wits about him, then no ill would befall the girl or the Vessel. He need only focus. For seven days… Seven long days…
He hauled the door open and stepped in after the children.
The umbrella shop was a cramped, yet tidy, place. Several waist-high racks of shellwood ran in parallel lines from one side of the store to the other. Leaning against them at tasteful angles were umbrellas in all sizes, shapes, and styles. Around the store's perimeter, along the upper wall, ran a bar of polished brass. More umbrellas dangled from it by their curved handles, like stalactites in a cavern.
Behind the counter at the back of the shop sat a wizened-looking bug with a gray shell. He gave Lurien no welcome and did not even bother to stand. This irked Lurien at first, but once the door thumped shut and the babbling rain was muffled, things became clear.
The bug was asleep, slumped and snoring upon his stool. A faint, almost melodious whistle accompanied his every exhale.
Lurien scoffed and considered waking him with an indignant shout, but that somehow seemed in poor taste. Instead, he slinked through the aisles in search of the children. They could not have gone far; the store was small and seemed to lack any other exits.
Just as Lurien began to worry, he spied two pairs of horns peeking over an umbrella rack in the far corner of the shop. He drew close, but not enough to attract attention to himself. Hornet's mistaken notions about the Vessel had intrigued him. He wondered how she interacted with it when she believed herself not to be under scrutiny. Why, in her mind, was it a playmate and not a tool?
He took up position beside a bulky wardrobe and set his eye on Hornet. She was pacing before a rack of umbrellas, like a general surveying her troops. Hums and grumbles escaped her as she pondered over the profusion of choices. Every third hum or so, she extended her claw toward an umbrella handle, only to retract at the last instant.
The Vessel was standing beside her, unnaturally still. Its head was the only part of its body that moved, and it tracked her reaching claw as a starving bug would a morsel of food.
Eventually, Hornet came to a decision and plucked an umbrella from a clump of its compatriots. "This one seems good," she said. "Here. Take it."
The Vessel obeyed, and the umbrella shifted claws.
Lurien did not consider himself an expert on the City's ever-shifting sense of fashion, but even by his rudimentary understanding, this umbrella seemed a touch too… colorful.
The umbrella was decorated—from the very tip of its cap to the base of its handle—in alternating stripes of scarlet and cream. Even within the relative vibrancy of the shop, the umbrella came across as loud and garish.
At least to Lurien's eye.
Hornet took up an appraising pose, arms crossed, head tilted. "It's very pretty. I think it compliments your shell."
The Vessel stared at the umbrella and did not move.
"I know that look," Hornet said. She raised a placating claw. "Before you decide that you don't like it, at least check in the mirrors." She pointed toward an alcove in the nearest wall. Within hung a semicircle of reflective metal sheets.
Again, the Vessel obeyed and trotted over. It held the gaudy umbrella up before its own reflection.
"Hey Spirit, do you know what candy is?" Hornet asked. To no great surprise, the Vessel did not reply, but Hornet continued all the same. "My mother told me about a far-off place that she visited a long time ago. That place had a funny kind of bug—a dumb one, like an Aspid or a Tiktik. It would eat leaves and then sec-secre—" she stumbled for a moment over the word. "—secrete a kind of sappy stuff that was very sweet. The smarter bugs that lived in that far-off place used the secre—the stuff to make a food called 'candy'. Pretty fun, right? That umbrella reminds me of candy, so I thought it would be a good choice…"
The Vessel maintained its pose but glanced at Hornet over its shoulder. There was something in the slant of its mask that seemed almost… pleading. But Lurien brushed the observation away.
"You don't like it, do you?" Hornet asked sullenly. "Alright, then. Give it back and I'll find another."
The 'candy' umbrella was returned, and Hornet resumed her rummaging. Although the second round of deliberation was just as painful, Hornet again singled out a candidate.
This umbrella was a florid thing, in the quite literal sense. For, it had been crafted to resemble the branch of some flowering plant. The umbrella's pole was even bent at a slight angle to simulate natural growth. Meticulously woven blossoms of dyed silk dappled it. They came in shades of indigo and sapphire and pink.
Again, Hornet bid the Vessel to pose in the mirror, and again the Vessel showed no signs of 'liking' anything. But Hornet persisted and returned to the racks, scouring like a compulsive scholar through a disorderly library.
Next came an umbrella dyed to resemble solid gold. It even sparkled in the light of the shop's Lumafly bulbs. But the Vessel did not approve.
After that came one styled in the fashion of the King's court: a base of silver, trimmed with pearl, and contrasted by streaks of black. Lurien appreciated its patriotism, but the Vessel did not.
Beyond that came an umbrella of the purest white, like the desiccated shell of something long dead, but of this too the Vessel seemed not to care.
The interval of time between Hornet's selections shrank with every failure. The minutes of careful thought were reduced to only as much time as it took to snatch another handle from the rack and prod the Vessel over toward the mirrors.
Two dozen more candidates followed, all of the finest materials in the most fabulous of styles. Curtains of dyed silk, rings of sparkling metal, tassels of intricate weave. Yet, not one stirred the Vessel's interest.
All the while, Hornet's frustration mounted.
From his clandestine post behind the wardrobe, Lurien monitored this: the tap of Hornet's foot, the quake of her grip upon the umbrella handles, the cut in her voice. And it puzzled him. Surely the child understood—if not on her obdurate surface, then deep-down—that this exercise was fundamentally futile. It was merely a game of make-believe with an autonomous toy. She would never find an umbrella that the Vessel truly wanted, simply because it could not want in the first place.
And yet…
"This is taking forever!" Hornet snapped. She began to throw a bead-spangled umbrella on the ground but reconsidered and simply set it aside. "There are a million umbrellas here!" She spun to face the Vessel. "You have to like at least one of them, right?"
If the Vessel had an answer, then it did not give it.
Hornet released a defeated sigh. "Well, Lurien is probably looking for us. We should find him before he gets angry. Just pick an umbrella, it doesn't really matter anyway…"
At that command, the Vessel shuffled over to the nearest rack and lifted a claw.
Lurien leaned around the wardrobe to gain as clear a view as possible, for the game had finally reached its end. Hornet had failed to fulfill the Vessel's non-existent desire, and it gave Lurien a rueful feeling of victory. The Vessel would follow its newest order and take up the very closest umbrella, regardless of style or perceived worth, and perhaps Hornet would recognize this. Perhaps she would finally abandon her childish presumptions and see the true puppet lurking beneath her illusory friend.
The Vessel's claw stretched toward an umbrella of bland navy, but just as it gripped the handle, it stopped. And turned. Something else on the far side of the shop had captured its attention. With industrious steps, the Vessel approached a rack that Hornet had not checked. With a smooth motion like drawing a nail from a sheath, the Vessel lifted an umbrella.
The likening to a nail was apt, for this newest umbrella quite clearly resembled one. Its fabric was gray and merged seamlessly with the tip to create the impression of a blade. It displayed a spiral pattern, the likes of which was only ever seen on masterwork weapons created by the King's own Nailsmiths. To complete the effect, the umbrella even lacked a hook. It ended in a stout hilt that the Vessel held in both claws.
Hornet chased after the Vessel and leaned over its shoulder. "What do you have there, Spirit? Show me."
The Vessel lifted its nail-umbrella in demonstration.
"Oh, wow! I didn't even notice that one! Have you decided, then? Is this what you want?"
The Vessel stared.
"Nod for yes," Hornet added.
And the Vessel's head bobbed in unequivocal affirmation.
Hornet gave a great and sudden laugh. "Alright, good! Now we can find Lurien." She rose to her full height and looked around, trying to get a glimpse over the umbrella racks.
Lurien ducked back behind the wardrobe and attempted to process what he had just seen. The Vessel's action had looked suspiciously like the manifestation of will, something the King had assured Lurien that its kind did not possess. Lurien scratched at his face beneath his mask. What could that mean…?
After several ineffectual hops, an idea seemed to occur to Hornet. She turned to the Vessel, which was still displaying the umbrella in the way that a decorative statue would display a torch. "I can't see," Hornet said. "Here, you look." She grabbed the Vessel by the torso and hauled it onto her shoulders. The act was impressive, though foolish, for she nearly crumpled under its weight. "Okay," Hornet grunted. "Can you see Lurien? Point him out."
The Vessel obeyed and brandished its nail-umbrella. To Lurien's surprise, it pointed at him without a moment's pause, as if it had always known he'd been there. However, this act disturbed Hornet's fragile balance, and the pair pitched to the ground.
Hornet wobbled back to her feet, seemingly unperturbed, and approached Lurien's hiding place. "What are you doing back there?" She asked. "Were we supposed to be playing a hiding game? You didn't tell me first."
Lurien abandoned his surreptitious posture. "No, not quite. I was merely… observing. I did not wish to interrupt your play. You seemed to be enjoying yourself."
"Oh, okay. Well, we found an umbrella for Spirit, see? Do you like it?"
Lurien feigned a glance. "It is quite a novelty. The craftsbugs of the City are a creative sort."
"You'll buy it then? You made a promise to Spirit, you know."
Although Lurien recalled quite clearly that no such promise had been made, he did not refute her. Instead, he ushered the two children toward the counter at the back of the store and plucked an umbrella at random from a rack as he went. With utter insouciance, he dropped the umbrella on the counter before the sleeping bug.
The resounding crack startled the bug to wakefulness, and it gawked blearily from side to side. "Y-Yes, hello? May I help you?"
Lurien extracted a chunk of Geo from his hip pouch and placed it meaningfully beside the umbrella. "Two. Mine and the child's. If you would please."
Hornet heaved her upper body onto the counter in order to better see, leaving her legs to dangle in the open air. Upon noticing the sparkling Geo, all other affairs departed her attention.
The shopkeeper shook the miasma of sleep from his brain and sized Lurien up. A few vacant seconds passed before recognition dawned. "Watcher… Lurien? The Keeper of the City stands in my shop?! Why, what a momentous—"
Lurien halted the bug with an upraised claw, and then tapped the counter beside the Geo.
To his credit, the shopkeeper took the hint and refrained from further pageantry. He busied himself with the transaction and vanished into the back storage room upon completion.
"So that's Geo," Hornet said, in a whisper so self-defeatingly loud that it might as well have been a shout. "It's very shiny."
As he was about to pocket his change, Lurien looked down at Hornet. The child's outstretched arms were losing purchase on the counter, and she was sliding almost imperceptibly back to the ground. Though many matters bedeviled Lurien's thoughts at that moment, he could not help but chuckle. "Indeed," he said. "Geo is a splendid sight. Would you like some for yourself?"
Hornet's eyes gleamed with that rare shade of avarice unique to children. "M-Maybe."
Lurien took up his umbrella and gestured to the shop's door. Geo rattled enticingly within his grip as he walked. "Well, if you are interested, then perhaps an agreement might be struck between us. If we are to reach my Spire at a reasonable hour, then we must not tarry. I recognize that you wish to experience all that is new and fascinating within the City, but that would merely slow our course. If you agree not to run off during the remainder of our trek, then I will offer you the most lustrous piece of Geo I own. How does that sound?"
Hornet and the Vessel trundled after him, like light-enthralled Aspids.
They reached the door and Lurien opened it with a thrust of his newly purchased umbrella.
"What say you?" Lurien prodded.
Hornet bowed her head in calculation, but only for a moment. She looked Lurien in the eye and lifted an extorting claw. "Deal."