Chapter 16

I squeaked and tried to wriggle out of his grasp.

“Lorus is not a twerp! Lorus is here with Tabby Porter! “

The man just scowled and began steering me towards the door.

“Oy! Here now Zoe, young Loris Forsythe there is with me!” Tabby came trotting back.

“Forsythe, eh? You’re bringing kids in here and a Wardensan to boot?” Zoe grumbled. “What have I told you about bringing your work with you, Tabby? Is she at least potty trained?”

I looked up indignantly, but Tabby waved her hand and gave me a look.

“Oh come on, Zoe, everyone knows this is a mission bar. If you don’t want people bringing their jobs here, then you ought to take down your work board. I’m just showing her the important parts of New Castle. The White Tree is a very important establishment, Zoe.”

Zoe huffed and rubbed his grizzled chin. The pipe swung from one side of his mouth to the other, then back again. Before he looked back down at me and scowled, his grip on my shoulder tightened painfully.

“All right, just this once, but you better not tell any of your dithering Wardensan pals about this. All I need are a bunch of dandies sneaking in, thinking they’re slumming it and disturbing my customers. As long as you’re here, you’ll conduct yourself like an adult, you here?”

I scowled back but nodded.

“You’re too young for the brew we carry, and we don’t carry milk ‘cept for tea. So you can have that or a glass of cider. That’s it. No crying, no whining, no snitching, and if you pick a fight, you fight it yourself,” he continued. “Got it?”

I nodded again. He looked at Tabby.

“What’s a matter with her? She a mute or something?”

“Lorus can talk!” I protested indignantly. “Tabby just said I had to mind my manners.”

That, at last, made Zoe crack a smile, and he let go of my shoulder. I resisted the urge to rub it as he stalked off.

“Well, at least she can follow orders. Just don’t start nothin’,” he said, disappearing down another hallway. “Unless you can finish it.”

Tabby rolled her eyes, “Ward treasure indeed. Zoe Hammersmith- retired Rover and crankiest cuss this side of Ward 3.”

I blinked and looked up at her, “We’re in Ward 3? How did-“

Tabby hushed me with a smile and put a finger over her lips and winked.

“Come on Loris, back this way. I think the crew is all here.”

I followed Tabby through the maze of nooks and partitions. The White Tree was a fantastic place to hide in. Even though the common area was one large room with the ceiling raised in the middle to at least two stories, it had been divided into a series of alcoves and nooks with walls of carved wood. Many had windows or stained glass mounted in them, giving a sense of privacy. Even though most of the tables in these alcoves were already filled with patrons, chairs crowded around worn but sturdy wooden tables, it wasn’t loud. Everyone kept their voices down.

At the back of the room Tabby paused at another door, this one with a figure on elk back. The figure was clad head to toe in gleaming metal armor, carrying a long swallow-tailed banner divided black and white down the middle. He or she rode a rearing white elk. I say ‘he or she’ because the helmet’s visor obscured the rider’s face, but curling brown hair flowed out the back. At the top of the door was written in tall, golden lettering: “Knight’s Retreat- Seasoned Adventurers Only.”

“Technically, you’re not really allowed in here unless you’ve had an epic Walkabout or ten under your belt,” Tabby explained then slapped me on the back. “Then again, I’d say it sounds like most of your life has been an epic Walkabout. So welcome to the club!”

Inside was a lovely and comfortable room with plush, dark green carpet and a large bay window with cushioned seats in the back. A large, round table as big as my bed was pushed into the center of the room, and the side that didn’t line up with the window seats had leather arm chairs and stools pulled up to it instead. In the middle of the table was painted a blue globe with green and tan splotches on it and little gold lines and lettering. I wasn’t quite sure what it was supposed to be a picture of.

“You’re late, Miss Porter!”

The Shrike was perched in the window seat, legs folded under her, cup of tea balanced on one knee, book in one hand; the other arm was extended to lie on the table with her coat sleeve pulled up. Averly Fox sat at the table with his back to us, his oculars on, scrutinizing it. Upon spotting me lurking behind Tabby, Shrike gave a low cough causing Fox to look up startled.

“I see you’ve brought your work with you again, Porter,” Shrike shook her head and pulled up her sleeve, slipping back on a lace glove.

Tabby grinned and walked over to a window in the wall. She slid it open and hollered through, “Oy, Aethel! A pint and a cider for us, will you?”

There was an affirmative shout from the other side, and Tabby took a seat at the table gesturing for me to do the same.

“Conversation was interesting, and I figured she could learn just as much at one of our pow-wows than me lecturing her on it.”

The Shrike sipped her tea, setting it down again so gently I didn’t even hear the dish clink.

“Yes, that’s much better. Thank you, Fox,” she continued to stare at me over her tea. “So, Miss Loris, you prefer Miss Porter’s company over mine or Fox I see.”

I shifted uncomfortably in my chair and the leather made an odd noise.

“N-No, it’s not that. It’s just that Lorus-“

Shrike gave another one of her soft coughs.

“It’s just that I…” and I honestly couldn’t come up with a reason. “No, you’re right. I do prefer Tabby Porter. She doesn’t try to drown me!”

If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.

Tabby and Fox laughed. Shrike sniffed and lifted her nose a little higher.

“At least you’re honest. I can’t abide lying just to please someone,” she stared into her tea cup. “It’s so sycophantic.”

I didn’t know what illness had to do with it, but I made a mental note to be very careful with my choice of words around Shrike. About then Tabby’s order arrived, and I had my very first taste of cider. Beyond the initial tartness, I found I liked it very much and was a bit sorry when I polished it off so quickly. Tabby eyed my empty glass and kindly ordered me another. Shrike suggested I try sipping this one.

“Try savoring it. It makes the experience last longer, and you don’t end up sounding like a yak sucking mud at a watering hole,” She demonstrated with her own drink.

“Speaking of lingering,” Tabby interjected, “Where’s Professor Qa’la? The good Prof isn’t usually late.”

“Ah, well, seems he’s been having a bit of a time with one of his interns,” Fox chuckled. “Even though the gel says she wants to be an RCFer, she can’t seem to keep track of time when she’s in the stacks. He actually found her sound asleep in the Z’s the other day.”

Tabby laughed, and even Shrike managed a smile.

Just then the door opened and a most peculiar man burst in, his arms overflowing with rolled up paper and a satchel slung across his back.

“Ah! Speak of the devil!” Fox nodded and kicked out a chair. “What’s good, Cuthbert? Lynwood sleeping on the job again?”

Cuthbert Qa’la was a very tall man, even taller than Fox, and he had dark, unruly hair, but a very neatly trimmed mustache that curled like two whiskers. It wasn’t the fact that he was dressed in a top hat and tails with dove gray striped pants nor the fact that his undervest seemed incorrectly buttoned that caught my attention. It was that every inch of his tea-toned skin that I could see was covered with tattoos. Though some had faded with time, the myriad of colorful designs and pictures captivated me. The longer I stared, the more I realized they were stories, great battles, romances, discoveries, losses, and victories. I leaned forward unconsciously trying to get a better look at his hands.

“Not just intern troubles, I have one particular student who keeps dodging lessons,” Qa'la’s baritone rumbled.

I realized he was looking directly at me.

“The Loris Forsythe, I presume?” he held out a massive paw of a hand.

I hesitated. Every time I gave my hand to someone, something bizarre or uncomfortable happened. Tabby nudged me.

“Come on now. It’s bad luck to snub an RCFer. You don’t want to insult your professor twice, do you?”

Cautiously, I extended my hand.

“L-Lorus is sorry-“

Again that cough from Shrike. I tucked my chin down and glared but tried again.

“I’m sorry for skipping your lessons, Professor Cuthbert Qa'la.”

He gently took my hand and held it for a moment then moved it up and down before releasing it.

“Just ‘Cuthbert’ is perfectly fine, Wardensan Loris. Although, I do wish you’d come see me at the Atrium. It is not nearly as scary or icky as you might think.”

I sighed and looked away, muttering, “Everyone has something for Lorus to learn. Books, plants, gears, tea, elks. I think my head might explode or leak.”

Cuthbert’s face crinkled in a charming smile that reached all the way to his eyes, “Indeed, the acquisition of knowledge can be intimidating. That is why I have all these,” he pointed to his hands. “They are my ‘souvenirs’, memories that, though they are not mine, help me remember a bigger, more important narrative.”

I looked at the tattoos covering his hands, and he pulled up his sleeves to show me they extended further up his arms. It made me wonder if he had tattoos on every inch of his body, even ones no one else could see. My face felt suddenly warm.

“Souvenirs?” I found myself touching my eyes. “Why would you want to remember other people’s memories? What if they’re bad memories?”

Qa’la took his place at the table.

“Because, Loris, sometimes there are more important things to preserve than the self. Sometimes bad memories are just as important to our learning as the good memories. That’s why this crew was originally assembled,” he gestured to the rest of the table. “Through our many Walkabouts and adventures together, we observed that though people enjoyed the good parts of New Castle and our tales of exploration, they were also dangerously close to forgetting the bad parts.”

I sipped my cider and looked at him skeptically, so he continued.

“What would you say, Loris? Is life in New Castle good? Is it better than being outside?” he asked.

I nodded emphatically, “Of course! There’s no one trying to kill or eat you inside New Castle.”

Qa’la nodded, “Yes indeed, it might seem that way. But did you know there have been times in the not so far past that was not true? When Ward fought against Ward, and the stones themselves were stained red with the blood spilled both inside and out of the walls?”

I shook my head. Tribe warfare? Something like that had happened in New Castle? I knew Plainsmen had many various clans and groups, and sometimes they clashed. The Ayfortees also periodically warred against their mortal enemies, the Aythertifyvs. How on earth could such soft and gentle people have turned against themselves? Everyone seemed to work so well together, like a harmony, or as Fox said, a well-oiled machine.

Qa’la was nodding, “Indeed, that is why the watchful care of the Wardens and the Wardensans is so important. When a Ward’s population grows too large, it ‘buds’ and sends off a delegation of individuals to start a new Shoal. They fund and support their Shoal for however long it takes for it to become established and become a new Ward. That’s how all of the outer wards, eight through thirteen have been cultivated, like a mother caring for her child. But did you know not everyone likes that amount of care and attention? Not everyone has been happy in New Castle.”

It was Fox this time who gave a warning cough and gave a purposeful stare to Qa’la.

I thought of Bentley, how arrogant he was, but how sad as well and how he chafed at being cooped up at the house all the time, even if it was for his own good. I could imagine some people getting a similar feeling from being in the city all their life. I pondered briefly my own fate. If I really was a Wardensan, I would stay in this comfortable nest for the rest of my days, whether I liked it or not. Would I someday yearn for beyond the walls again? Raikan’s face suddenly came to mind. Wistfully, I wondered for a moment what she and Nurse Jane were up to.

Qa’la began unrolling some of the papers he had brought with him and used small pins to keep them in place on the table top.

“It’s important to keep the dark times of New Castle at least in the back of our minds as well as the bright times. It helps us spot signs of decay or unrest, but at the end of the day, it is the Warden and their families’ duties to address it. This means that anyone in those families must be just as acquainted with their past as any RCFer so that they can contribute to New Castle’s future. Does that make sense, Loris?”

I turned the glass of cider in my hands. I had managed to make the wonderful beverage last longer this time. I didn’t understand everything Qa’la was getting at, but I did get its not entirely subtle message that I needed to start showing up for lessons. However, it did bring one question to mind.

“Qa’la, do you think Lorus has something to contribute to New Castle?”

Shrike coughed again. Impatiently I turned on her.

“Drink more tea, Shrike! You cough much more than any sick fanatic! You peck more than the Iron Crane!” I snapped.

Shrike stuck her nose in the air as Qa’la, Tabby, and Fox burst out laughing.

“Oh ho! She’s pegged your cousin, Shrike. But ‘Iron Crane’? Haven’t heard that one in a while. Wonder where she picked that up?” Fox elbowed her, jostling Shrike’s tea which received an angry hiss.

Qa’la wiped a tear out of his eye as he tried to smother his laughter.

“Oh dear, that temper could get you in some trouble, Loris. Best mind it,” he smiled though and placed a hand on my head. “Do I think you have something to contribute to New Castle? Indeed I do. Probably much of what I think I also bring to New Castle. Perspective. I wasn’t always a child of New Castle myself, and much of my understanding comes from the fact that, like you, I was not raised entirely within the safety or the confines of its sturdy walls.”