Camellia left Valerian in the arms of Florian. She ran across the green and glanced at the misshapen and dented egg that held Pen Pal. She ran past it straight to Meladee.
“Meladee!” Camellia spread her arms and grinned. “I missed you guys.”
Meladee just nodded and dismissed Camellia with a wave. “I can’t stay. Sorry. I’ve got -” Meladee took a deep breath. “I’ve got somewhere else to be.” Meladee trotted back into Halfmoon.
Camellia frowned. She dropped her arms to her sides and watched as Meladee disappeared up the ladder. Benham tore scrap metal that had been part of the ship expansion and tossed it free. Archaeologists waited below him, scooping up scrap, like vultures of history. They scurried away with their prizes. Benham was almost done. The Halfmoon was in a hurry alright.
Irini, eyes cast down, approached Camellia.
“What happened?” Camellia asked.
Irini twisted the ends of her shirt, pulling the fabric between her fingers. “Meladee wanted me to tell you that there are puzzles on the bottom of the egg.”
Camellia glanced at the egg. It laid on its side, and she could see an exposed golden apparatus, something like a disc. Florian eyed it from a distance and kept Valerian from looking.
Camellia turned her attention back to Irini. “She wants me to do the puzzles?”
Irini nodded. “Or someone else, I guess.” Irini looked down again.
“Anyone can do those. What did Meladee really want to tell me?” Camellia’s memory flashed back to the time that Rooks gave her some bad news. Then, her mind’s eye took her further to a letter from her father. Cernunnos and her Mother – both gone. The news delivered to Camellia in the same reluctant tone.
“So, uh, there were these weird flying primates that lived in a space forest.” Irini drew a sharp breath. “And, we had to make the ship bigger to carry the egg.”
Camellia nodded. “Mmmhmm.” She held up a hand. “Irini. You don’t have to say it.”
“Eva got kind of damaged.” Irini glanced up but quickly looked back down.
“I think the word you’re looking for is dead. Eva is dead.” Familiar numbness overtook Camellia.
Irini shook her head. “No. No. She’s not. They’re going to take her to see Sten and the other robots in Lurren. She can probably be fixed. I think. I hope.”
Camellia sighed. She wasn’t so sure. “Okay. I guess you need to get home.”
Irini slumped and nodded. “Yeah. I want to go home. But, I’m probably not supposed to go anywhere, until I get the egg situation solved. I probably have to bring the Pen Pal guy back.” Irini’s lip quivered. “I just want to go home though. Do you think someone could take me and maybe follow after with Pen Pal?”
Florian stepped up to Camellia’s side. He held Valerian but did not offer him to Camellia. “Irini. We’ll get you home. It might take a little doing. Rooks took all the main ships through the wormhole to aid Scaldigir, but we’ll get you home. I already called for a couple of Lurrien ships to come here. One will take you. The other will bring Pen Pal after.”
Irini exhaled. “I’m really sorry.”
Camellia agreed, “I am too.”
Irini glanced back. She pointed over her shoulder. “They’re not going to be the ones who take me right?”
“No,” Florian answered with a shake of his head. “I don’t think Meladee and Benham are up to that.”
“That’s good because…I’m finding it hard to be on that ship.”
Florian tucked Valerian into one arm. He waved Irini after him. “Come wait on the steps. Camellia, do you need a minute?”
“Yes.” Camellia clasped her hands and cast her own eyes down. “I need many actually.”
“Take your time. By the way, the puzzles look like something up your alley, but I’ll understand if you can’t do them,” Florian said.
Camellia spoke over her shoulder. “Let me do them. I have to be here anyway since I’m the original correspondent.”
Florian led Irini away.
Camellia took her moment. She stood alone in her space on the green, but she wasn’t really alone. The egg was behind her. Florian and Irini were still near enough, and they would wait on the museum steps. Benham feverishly tore the unwieldy parts from Halfmoon, and Meladee hid aboard. Eva was there too – in body, if not in soul.
Others thought they could call that soul back to Eva. Irini, Sten, Benham, maybe even Florian believed that Eva could be repaired and reawakened. Camellia believed Eva to be dead because Meladee believed it. If Meladee couldn’t even talk to Camellia, if she had to hide aboard the Halfmoon and run from the trouble, then it was real.
Camellia let the silence last a moment longer. Then, she raised her gaze and beheld the egg.
If Pen Pal could save Aria from her own self destruction – from such a great distance – then Pen Pal could help Eva.
Camellia strode to the egg. She bit her lip as she examined the gold apparatus.
It was a disc, or at least, a ring. On the inside, was a smooth, black surface. Little specs of color floated in that surface.
Camellia touched it, and it rippled.
“Florian!” Camellia called. “Why do you think I’ll be good at these puzzles?”
“It’s not a mirror. Don’t worry. Check the little circles on the north, south, east, and west of the ring. They’re small. You’ll find them set into the frame,” he shouted back.
Camellia let out a huff. She studied the ring again and saw the circles, embedded into the gold metal. “Ah.” Each circle showed a surface as dark as the center.
Camellia touched one of the circles. The central disc rippled again and showed Camellia a knot of roots. She thought it might be the kind that she should untangle, till all of the roots lay flat, with no overlap. It was a mess, for certain, but Camellia did not think it was a strong enough puzzle to lock a thing like Pen Pal away for eternity. Camellia scrunched her nose.
She touched another of the circles. The view rippled again. This time she saw a mess of objects. Camellia frowned. She leaned closer and stared harder.
“What is this?” she mumbled.
“A game.”
Camellia jumped to find Florian so close.
“I’m not sure of the goal, but I think you find specific things in the picture.” Florian held a squirming Valerian. He handed him to Camellia.
She took Valerian and tucked him close. “No. There is no way the Volanter would entrust Pen Pal’s prisoner status to a series of simple games.”
Florian spread his hands and bowed his head. “Well, maybe they aren’t so simple. I haven’t checked the other two, but you should see how this works first.” Florian motioned to the top game. “Touch the roots puzzle and then touch the main disc.”
Camellia gave him a skeptical look. If the Volanter had hidden their prisoner behind a bunch of foolish games, then she was the ideal woman to open the egg. She just didn’t buy it.
Camellia tapped the roots circle. Then, she jabbed the center screen. She shifted Valerian in her arms and jumped. Roots appeared all over the ground, scattered in a tangle, identical to the one on the screen. She clutched Valerian tighter and stepped back. She felt Florian’s hand on her shoulder.
He said, “I can’t see it. Only the person who has touched the screen can see it. It’s some kind of illusion. Why don’t you feed Valerian? Then, you can give him back to me, pick up the roots, and move them around.” Florian stepped away from the play space.
Camellia stared down at the roots. They were quite the tangle. She stepped high over one and stumbled.
“You can just walk through them. I know it feels odd,” Florian called.
“I might have dropped Valerian.” Camellia shuffled. “You should have handed him to me later.”
In a few moments, she had it figured out – not the puzzle, just how to move around it. Baby steps. She strolled through the roots and held Valerian to her breast.
If the puzzle involved untangling the roots, then Camellia would find it next to impossible. Such a puzzle would require her to spread each root out, not touching a single other root. She didn’t think there was room for that. The roots crisscrossed, offering barely a peak of grey earth beneath. Camellia slowly shook her head. That was not the puzzle.
Then, what could it be?
The second possibility was that the roots led somewhere, and she had to find the right path. Camellia walked the perimeter, searching for something. She gasped as she found two runes. Each was blue and carved in miniature on the end of a root.
“Found something?” Florian asked.
“Yes. I think it’s a path tracing puzzle.” Camellia glanced up. “You can’t see any of it?”
He shook his head. “Do you want me to take over? You’ll have to give up and let me tap the puzzles.”
Camellia set her eyes on the roots again. “No. I don’t want to give up. Give me a chance.”
Camellia sighed with satisfaction. She’d traced each rune to its counter – its opposite on the Volanter’s rune tree. The puzzle was both matching game and maze. As Camellia could connect any of the runes to each other, she had to make the call on how to pair them. In the end, she had needed to trace three separate lines, and she needed to match the runes that opposed each other, the ones that would cancel each other out. Each match formed a looping rune, with no loose ends. She’d done it.
The puzzle disappeared from around her; the runes glowed in blue, fading last.
Camellia directed her attention to the gold ring. She watched as the button she’d used to access the roots puzzle winked out too. In fact, it closed up.
“I did it!” Camellia called.
“I know I saw,” Florian said from the steps. “Should I take over?”
Camellia was about to answer when the next puzzle – the mess – started on its own. She stared at the pile of junk around her feet.
“I think I need to finish it.” Camellia pointed down. “I’m looking at the mess.”
“Ah.” Florian had a little toy that he dangled over Valerian. “Carry on, I suppose. You can always give up and have me start over.”
“Well, you’ll know the answers.” Camellia started to search the mess. She didn’t hear an answer from Florian, so she glanced up to find him shaking his head.
“It will completely reset. I can save some time by knowing how to solve the puzzle, but I won’t know the exact answer. I noted differences in the root puzzle I saw vs. the one you just solved.” Florian jumped as Valerian batted at the dangling object and sent it up to his father’s face.
Camellia sighed. She hoped the next two puzzles would look less like her day-to-day life and more like the epic problems that should lock Pen Pal away.
She set her eyes on the ground and walked stooped, back and forth. There were no runes to find, just objects, and Camellia counted seven everyday things: a needle and thread, a flower, a tree, a vase, a ball, a cup, and a key.
At least, Camellia thought it was a key. It was far from the only unknown object in the pile. Camellia counted several items that must have meant something to the Volanter. A strange brush like object sat tucked against the vase.
Camellia bent to examine it. “Dead skin remover,” she said, too quiet for anyone else to hear. “That’s my guess.”
Camellia pushed herself out of the stoop. Aside from the everyday objects and the unknowns, Camellia counted a couple of extraordinary objects. A Dipinta tree, shrunken to the size of a bauble, lay on the edge, and a scroll of golden paper sat tucked under the center of the mess.
Some of the objects were obviously more important than others.
There had been seven objects in the pile that actually meant something. All of them had to do with an advancement or research track, perpetrated by the Volanter.
It started with the tree, where Volanter magic began. The next advancement owed itself to paper because writing on trees certainly served a purpose in magical development. The third was a gold ring, probably meant to be worn on a tentacle. The fourth – the vase – showed several rings in succession, but Camellia only targeted it after she noted the water that spilled out, frozen in the image. The fifth of the objects was a mirror, with the sun on the back, suggestive rays looked too much like a rayed spell to be ignored. The sixth object was a doily, with overlaid patterns. Camellia, in her sleep deprived state, spent a full two minutes laughing about it. She had to wave Florian’s offered hand away. In the end, the seventh object almost baffled Camellia. She searched the mess and eventually touched the wrong object.
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The puzzle made her start over, and all the objects had been slightly different. Not enough to throw her off, but little things wasted her time. In place of a vase, Camellia had to find a bowl of water, with rings painted on its interior, visible through the clear liquid. The doily disappeared, and Camellia had to find a necklace, with an ornate overlaid ring pendant. Everything got a little sneakier.
Finally, as night fell, she found the seventh: a chain, coiled in a circle. It didn’t represent magical advancement so much as social advancement. Camellia imagined each link represented a clan, and one of those links was hers.
The realization made her pause. Development of clans and inclusion of children species counted as magical advancement.
As the second puzzle faded from her play space, Camellia noted the time. Darkness hovered all around the museum and AAH. Twilight had gone. The second puzzle took hours, and Camellia didn’t do it alone. She described what she saw to other anthropologists and Florian. She prodded them for answers, and each gave their impression of the Volanters’ treasured objects. As a team, they got the answer. Almost like a chain.
Camellia dug her hands into her hair. “I thought we’d never get it.”
“It’s night. Why don’t you take a break and let someone else…”
“No,” Camellia said sharply. “It’s too time consuming. Just let me finish. You can watch Valerian, right?”
Florian nodded. “Of course. It’s just that…”
Camellia felt her lip quiver. “You think I’m a bad mom to ignore my not even month-old son to play with puzzles?”
Florian’s eyes widened. “No. I think you’re tired.”
“I can do it. As soon as I do it, I can spend the rest of Valerian’s young life with him, and I can save…” Camellia waved her hand. “Oh, nevermind.”
Eva.
The third puzzle took its place on the ground before Camellia. It was a pattern, arranged in rows, with uneven stripes across each row, all in black and white.
“Like flattened tentacles.” Camellia pressed her fingers to her temples.
“Anything I can help with?”
Camellia glanced up. “Get that hologram of bodies ready.”
Florian froze for a moment. “Just a minute.”
Just as she thought, the striped columns represented all the common patterns found on Volanter bodies. Camellia just had to order them from most to least common. She slid the slats over, and the other slats would shuffle into place.
White with wide black stripes took the first place. It made sense. Most of the Volanter Camellia saw had white base colors, with black stripes. The second most common pattern went to the black base, with wide white stripes. From there, Camellia deduced that the wide slanted stripes came next: white, then black. After that, she moved on to the thin stripes. White base, thin black. Black base, thin white. White base, slanted black. Finally, she popped the black base with thin slanted white stripes into place – the rarest Volanter pattern. The puzzle glowed and faded.
It wasted almost none of her time.
Camellia smiled, took a deep breath, and let it out. She had hours till dawn, and she was at her dhampiric best.
The fourth puzzle lay at her feet.
Florian asked, “What’s next?”
Camellia glanced down. “It’s a map. Water mostly. Some small islands. I’m guessing their home planet.”
“Hmm.” Florian frowned. “They had you prove your knowledge of counters and being able to navigate winding paths. Then, they had you prove your knowledge of research and cultural objects. Third, they had you show your understanding of Volanter stripe patterns. Now, they want you to prove your understanding of the myths.”
Camellia shook her head. “No. They want me to show my understanding of their history.” She shrugged. “It’s too easy.”
Florian nodded. “It’s not meant to be hard for anyone that’s Volanter. Remember, they believe they all have a right to these things. They believed we did too.”
Valerian snored in Florian’s arms. He was newly fed and would sleep long enough for her to get it done.
Camellia waded through the false water of the puzzle. She saw only one true land mass, an island under a Dipinta tree. Camellia touched it. Water receded and presented her with a handful of other islands. Little glittering bits sparkled on the tree, and Camellia touched each one. They zoomed to the other islands. It was less a puzzle and more an exercise. At least, it started that way.
A moment later, Camellia found herself in a swamp, crisscrossed with land bridges. It looked less like a map and more like a body. She and Florian were both wrong. The topic wasn’t Volanter history. It was Volanter burials.
As much as Camellia didn’t want to admit it, she needed to follow the Dipinta’s growth pattern. She had Florian bring her a picture of the burial trees’ interiors, and she got to work.
In the end, Camellia noted some fanciful additions to the Volanter’s burial map. She drew lines between the islands to show the crisscrossing pattern of interior growth. However, she took special care to make sure that one trail passed through the mind; one trail passed through the heart, and a third trail passed through the reproductive organs of the Volanter figure.
With that last trail, all the water and landmasses faded, and Camellia held her breath.
The lock snapped open. In fact, it fell clean off, and the egg’s base spiraled aside. Camellia stared into the hole. It was beautiful: a place with trees and brooks and soft grass, and so much light.
Florian came down the steps to Camellia. He stopped and stared. “Well, that part’s fallen off, but how do we get him out?”
Camellia motioned to the hole. “He can just walk out. Look. It’s open.”
Florian’s eyes went wide. “I don’t see anything. Just the base of the egg.”
Camellia sighed. “Watch Valerian. I’ll be back as fast as I can.”
With no more words, Camellia ducked into the hole. Florian reached for her but missed. He stood on his side of the little portal, amid a Groazan morning. Valerian lay in his father’s arms and gazed up at one of the people responsible for his life. Camellia stood on her side, unseen, in what she could only term a Volanter morning.
“I’ll be back as fast as I can,” she said, though she knew they wouldn’t hear.
Camellia turned around and started to walk. A babbling brook ran between Dipinta trees, and in ribbons and offshoots, it touched every corner of the land that Camellia saw. The ground felt squishy beneath her feet, saturated with moisture.
It wasn’t long before Camellia saw one of the communication devices. A great Dipinta tree bent over it, shading the console. The branches brushed the buttons and screen.
“Pen Pal! Hello?” Camellia called. She took a step back.
No one answered.
Camellia wandered close to the tree. She stroked the trunk and glanced at the com device. Words remained on the screen, showing it had been active in recent time.
Camellia checked left and right. A breeze blew through the tree. Camellia couldn’t say from where the wind came.
“Hello?” She kept her hand on the Dipinta tree’s bark and rubbed up and down.
Spots of the tree felt rough, but smooth patches wove between the ridges. Camellia peered close at one and saw a swirling pattern.
She caught her breath. “Oh no.” Slowly, Camellia looked at the com device again.
New words scrolled on to the screen.
She stepped away from the trunk and wove a path over the roots. Camellia focused on the communication device. A single branch bent firm over the touch pad.
She got just close enough to read it.
Camellia? You came. You’re shorter than I expected…
“Can you hear me?”
Yes.
“Good because I’m not going to touch that device.” Camellia motioned to the com.
A good plan. We don’t want them to hear. The voice seemed to whisper on the wind, and it had a new timbre. It sounded more like the voice of a man.
“You have lied to me.”
The com device didn’t show any new words.
Camellia faced the trunk. “When I asked whether you now or ever had tentacles, you led me to believe you were something else entirely.” Camellia turned back to the screen.
I’m Volanter. I thought you would figure it out, and that would be the end of our deal. I worked my miracles through spell work that you should have known. I lied to you. But, I did it for a good reason.
“I made you a promise.” Camellia spread her hands. “And, I have kept it.”
Pen Pal’s words scrolled across the screen. Yes, you have. And, I made you a promise, which I will keep. I will help you get rid of the Volanter threat.
“You are Volanter. How am I supposed to believe you?” Camellia moved beneath the branches, avoiding them as they swayed in the wind. She wasn’t sure how much he could do from inside the tree. She wasn’t even sure if he was alive.
You’re Volanter too. You want them to leave you alone, and I want them to change.
Camellia watched the screen. It was her way of saying I’m listening.
I was buried many years ago, not quite dead but not quite alive. I could feel the shoots of the tree pass through me, and everything happened as promised. I got to live again as a tree, and my people were overjoyed to see the afterlife work as intended. But, this kind of life will change your point of view.
Camellia glanced up at the branches. She could not see through to the sky above, shaded under Pen Pal.
Seasons and the passage of time are important. We can agree on that.
“We can,” Camellia said. “They’re certainly better than time spent in an Obsidian dream.”
We can also agree that the rest of the Volanter do not prefer the passage of time. How did they get like that? A few years of magical research and seeing that they could shape their world in significant ways. What person wouldn’t spend a little time in the bubble to gain those extra years and see the galaxy shift around them?
A younger Camellia would have jumped at the chance. Without time, she could have escaped her father, her family, and everything they made her feel. She could have spent more time with her mother and Cernunnos. It would have been better than an Obsidian dream.
I spent many respected years among the Volanter. I was their miracle, but when I suggested a course of action that would temper their research activities, they punished me, with the very time bubble that I was against. I think, in part, it was to preserve me. I would not have lasted this long with the passage of time. No Dipinta tree lives more than thirty years after it becomes hollowed.
“Are you the only one whose burial worked as intended?”
As far as I know.
Camellia turned away from the screen and studied the trunk. Pen Pal was in there. He was also outside, with her. He was the tree, and somehow, he saw and heard her. Maybe, his roots picked up the vibrations of her voice, and his leaves brushed her head, telling him how tall she was. What else he knew and could see remained unknown to Camellia.
She could see that he was special, by an accident of his burial. It gave him power, as a symbol, but what else did it give him?
“If you’re so special, how come they didn’t guard you?” Or, did they? With the things that killed Eva.
They know of me. They could come and offer me protection. But, they don’t want to.
Camellia held her breath and watched the screen.
What would be the point? As soon as they opened the egg, I would begin to die, and no Volanter wants to be the one to kill the miracle. So, they let you find me instead. Maybe, in the hopes that you would be struck by the impossibility and return to the fold. Now, that would be a good sacrifice – a good trade. A new miracle.
Camellia’s eyes traveled over his roots and his leaves. When she brought her gaze back to the screen, she found a new message.
When you touched the com, I could see that you were the kind of Volanter I always wished they would be.
A chill breeze moved beneath Camellia’s hair and caressed her neck.
She pushed her hair back into place, where it could warm her skin. She held it there through the next breeze. “But, I’m not a Volanter.”
Let’s not argue about this.
“Peoples change. Even from generation to generation. If you go far enough, you can’t recognize your descendants.”
We’ve not gone far enough then because I recognize you. And, don’t give me any more of this. You are Volanter, and I choose you and your people, Iruedian and Scaldin, to carry us forward. Now, I want you to chop a branch from me.
“Why?” Camellia asked.
The egg will decay. This bubble is an early incarnation, and it doesn’t stop time so much as hold it back, like a damn. It can only be opened once. Now, that it has, time is flooding back to me. I will decay too, and the spells I’ve written might fade. Before it’s all gone, you must take my gifts to you.
“You’ve written spells?” Camellia shuffled her feet. She edged closer to the trunk, where the branches had less influence.
Yes. Spells. I have spent many long years writing spells into my branches. They’re all inside, where the simple rings of a tree should be.
“How? There’s no time here. How did you change the inside of the tree?”
Even in a place without time, you can think and make. The other Volanter know I write new spells, but they don’t know what the spells entail. That might be another reason that they decided against pursuit. They want to know what I wrote. See my new perspective.
Camellia didn’t think curiosity or religious fervor were enough. She thought the real reason the Volanter didn’t return to Pen Pal had to do with Eva’s killers. She kept the thought to herself.
Now, inside one of my branches is the spell you need. You’ll find it in the branch that reaches the com. It will allow you to cast one spell on all the Volanter at once.
“That includes us,” Camellia said.
A moment passed. Then, Pen Pal answered, No. It won’t. A point in your favor against the claim of your Volanter heritage, I suppose. Let me rephrase. Every Volanter with tentacles will be touched by the spell.
“Okay, and what is this spell?”
Just what I’ve said. A way to touch all the Volanter at once. You must supply the rest.
A circle appeared at Camellia’s feet. She backed up, tripped over an upraised root, and fell against the trunk. The circle dissipated and left behind a glowing axe.
Camellia pushed herself back to her feet. She approached the axe and picked it up. “I just had a child, you know. Chopping down trees isn’t supposed to be in the recovery plan.”
I’m sorry. Take just the important branch. The others don’t matter.
Camellia hefted the axe. “I’d like to make that decision, but I don’t think I’ll have the chance.” She swung the axe into the low-lying branch and earned a chip of wood. “Is here fine?”
Yes, perfect. You should get a nice big version of the spell from that point. It runs the length of the branch, in a thousand cross-sections.
Camellia hefted the axe and brought it into the wood again. She scored a deep hit. Her third chop put her into a rhythm, and she worked her way through the branch.
When she reached halfway, she thought she could draw breath to speak. “You don’t have to answer. Just listen. My friend, Eva, got hurt rescuing you. I want her healed. I want her to be back to normal. I saw you cast a spell. I know you can do more.”
Camellia paused her work. Despite her declaration that Pen Pal needn’t answer, she checked his com screen.
I can’t do that.
Camellia stared at the screen. She rested the axe on a bent root. “Can’t? What do you mean you can’t?”
There is no spell that will bring someone back from a state of death. I can give you a chance to talk to her…
“I can ask someone I trust to do that.” Camellia turned to the trunk, where the Volanter body hid. She couldn’t stare through the wood to the man beneath, but he wasn’t a man or a Volanter at all, despite what he believed.
Camellia raised the axe and swung it into the deep cut she’d made. She could see the circle, chopped and frizzy. They would have to sand it to get a good idea of how the runes ran together. “So, what can you do?”
In her periphery, Camellia saw words pass over the screen. She looked askance.
Anything else. Do you want the events rewound? I’m not sure how we can warn your friend, unless we go all the way back – to the time we spoke on the com. I can tell that version of you to warn Eva. But, I’m reluctant. Will you send them for me, if you know Eva could die?
Pen Pal continued to speculate. Camellia turned away and read none of it. Instead, she thought of Pan and how Pan would be her only link to not only Cernunnos but also Eva. Pan could summon the ghosts – if the ghosts existed to be summoned. Camellia’s only choice was to ask Pan, and it was not what she wanted at all.
Camellia chopped through the branch. She dodged as it slipped free of the tree and hit the ground. The leaves rustled and fell from the com, putting an end to their conversation. The words winked out. The contact finally broke.
“So, that’s it then,” Camellia said. “You helped me with the Volanter. I guess I’m grateful. If you weren’t about to die, we could even take your tree, slap you on a ship, and put you to work, along with the rest of the spells you’ve written. There must be some wonders among them.” Camellia touched her chest. “But, none of that is really what I’ve wanted. In fact, you haven’t given me anything that I wanted.”
Maybe, that wasn’t fair. Pen Pal did save Aria, and though, it wasn’t Camellia’s immediate cause, it mattered to a new friend of hers.
Though she thought a concession, she didn’t concede the point aloud. “You gave me the attention of the father I don’t want anymore, when what I really wanted was Cernunnos. He was the better man for the job all along. But, he’s dead, and you can’t do anything about that. You can’t get me back Eva, and all you’re telling me to do is wish their spirits good-bye. Well, I can ask someone else for that.”
Camellia walked down the branch. She didn’t plan to carry the whole thing out. She found a thinner spot and chopped through it, without another word. She dropped the axe, stooped, and picked up the length of wood that held the spell to touch all the Volanter – only those with tentacles.
“I need to get this out, so we can record it. I forgot to ask how long it will take for this branch to decay.” Camellia looked towards the exit and saw it across the land, growing wider. “I suppose, it’ll hardly seem like I’ve been gone.”
A short while later, the branch fell to dust. But, the spell headed on its way to Scaldigir, drawn and photographed in detail. A few mages looked it over, and they said it was the real deal, a spell like they’d never seen before. With twelve rings, interlocked like vines, it ran in a spiral; its end tucked neatly up to the whole. The Iruedians whisked the new weapon to their Scaldin allies.
Camellia watched the ship disappear into the sunlit sky. She held Valerian again and also a com. She tried to call Sten and get an update on Eva, but he must have been busy. She would wait.