Isle of Wysteria: The Reluctant Queen (7 page)

“Please don’t speak to me,” she whispered back.

“Listen up, everybody. Our next mission is to take out the Stonemaster communications artery that services the area around Wysteria,” Athel declared theatrically, gesturing towards the map. Everyone leaned in and looked at where she was pointing.

“The coffee stain?” Privet asked.

“No, not the coffee stain, the tiny island next to it. It’s called Station Checkettes.”

Captain Evere sat back and stroked the back of Tim’s neck, nodding approvingly. “It pains me to say it, but I’m shocked, lass. This is a surprisingly sober and lucid plan.”

Athel put her hands on her hips. “Just what are you implying?”

“No, he’s right,” Mina agreed, looking over the map. “Standard Navy protocol calls for a ship to return to base when it goes out of communication. If the whole fleet loses their prism streams, they'll have no choice but to return to Stretis.”

“But then they'll just turn right back around again,” Ryin complained. “So, this accomplishes nothing.”

“It’s not that simple, lad,” Evere said, leaning forward. Having this many ships all in the same place at once is a logistical nightmare. It could take as long as two months before they can get everyone back to Wysteria and reestablish the blockade.”

“Which will give Wysteria time to take back the initiative,” Athel concluded, crossing her arms proudly.

It was at that moment that Odger waddled in, looking serene and collected. He greeted each person in turn, even smiling warmly and looking them in the eyes, something he normally never did. It stunned everyone into silence.

“M-may I offer you something to eat?” Alder asked politely.

“Yes, I’d love some porridge if you have it,” Odger responded clearly. “But first I must deliver something.”

Everyone was amazed. Even Ryin let off a small whistle. Odger seemed pellucid, even calm. Normally his eyes were skittish, they darted around all the time as if he was constantly being distracted by some unheard noise, but now he seemed focused. Still covered with dirt and grime, but focused.

Carefully, he took out a small wrapped bundle and placed it on the table in front of Athel. “I made this for you,” he announced proudly.

“Oh...well...thank you very much, I guess,” Athel said, removing the wrapping.

“He really seems to be doing a lot better,” Margaret mentioned.

Athel unwrapped the bundle, revealing a beautiful statuette. The woman depicted was quite obviously Athel, dressed in an exquisite white floor-length gown. The skin was carved from a polished agate, so smooth that no tool lines could be seen. Emerald gems had been flawlessly shaped for the eyes, and ruby for the hair, which was braided and decorated with flowers carved from jade. The dress was carved from quartz, trimmed and decorated with shimmering opal. In her gloved hands, she held a bouquet of flowers, also made from jade.

At first glance it appeared painted, but upon closer inspection they realized that the materials themselves had been manipulated. The natural marbling in the jade had been moved around to give the bouquet of flowers dramatic highlights and shading. The cloudiness in the quartz had been gathered together in the folds of the dress, gently feathering out towards the opal lace at the trim. It was a work of art unparalleled by anything any of them had seen before.

“There is no way you made this,” Athel marveled. “It isn’t covered with mud.”

“Of course I made it,” Odger assured her, scratching flakes of skin out of his crusty eyebrow. “Making a figurine like this is the final test you must pass in order to be certified as a Stonemaster. It encompasses all the Stonemaster skills; ore locating, structure manipulation, material reshaping and fusing.”

“Yes, but what is it?” Athel insisted.

“Oh, it’s a sculpture of you on our wedding day, so I can always remember how beautiful my bride looked,” Odger explained, wandering dreamily away into the corridors.

Everyone sat in silence for a moment. Athel could only stare at the statue, mouth agape.

“Okay, never mind what I said, I guess he’s not that much better,” Margaret admitted.

“Lady Forsythia, I know it is not my place, but I really must protest,” Alder spoke up, arms at his side.

“Yeah, you tell her, Alder,” Mina encouraged.

“You know the laws of our land. If you are going to take a second husband, he must be Wysterian, he cannot be a foreigner.”

Mina’s long white tail went straight with anger. “Wait...
that
is the part that bothers you?”

“When did you two get married, anyway?” Dr. Griffin asked, scratching his bald head.

“And why wasn’t I invited?” Ryin asked, irritated.

“Hold on everybody!” Athel said, holding her hands out. “Okay, first of all, eeuuww. Second of all, I’m not married to him.”

Mina slammed her hand on the table and stood up, her fox-like ears twitching. “And, third of all, you are both being really racist. What is so wrong with marrying a foreigner?”

Athel looked at Mina stupidly. “What’s wrong with it? Odger hasn’t taken a bath once in the entire time I've known him.”

“No, that’s not what I’m talking about.”

Alder’s eyes went wide in horror. “When Odger drops food on the floor, I offer to get him a replacement, but he just picks it up and eats it anyway.”

“No,” Mina huffed, the white fur on her neck standing up. “That’s not what’s important.”

“Well, if you like him so much, why don’t you marry him?” Athel retorted.

“I’m already married!” Mina yelled.

“To a foreigner,” Evere stated coldly, peering up from underneath his cap.

For a long time, everybody was quiet.

“Ah, so
that
is what this is really about,” Margaret exclaimed, quite proud of herself. She took out her notebook and began scratching away in it.

“Look, it’s not like I care or anything,” Ryin began, nonchalantly snapping his fingers, causing his metal fork to bend itself into all sorts of unusual shapes. “But I think this has been seething long enough. You two need to get everything out in the open so you can deal with it.”

“Oh no,” Margaret warned, pushing her glasses up from the tip of her nose. “You don’t want to do that. Believe me, when something is bothering you, you just swallow it down. You choose to be the bigger person and be the peacemaker.” Margaret’s eyes became distant. “Just hide it deep inside of you, where no one will ever see it. Make sure that no one’s feelings get hurt except your own. Just let it sit there until it begins to fester and becomes an illness. Just squash it down until you can’t take it anymore, and you feel like you want to scream all the time.” Margaret’s eyes slanted, her lips twisting into a snarl. “Then, one day when no one is looking, you set your room on fire, and you jump on the first ship you can find. You watch the smoke until it is just a little wisp on the horizon...”

Margaret snapped out of her trance and looked up. Everyone was staring at her. Some people still had food in their mouths, but were no longer chewing.

“...Hypothetically speaking, of course,” Margaret finished, her cheeks blushing brightly with embarrassment.

“Well, I disagree with Margaret,” Athel opined. “If there is a problem, you should confront it and deal with it.”

Mina took a moment and forced herself to calm down. “Athel, sweetie, I love that you care so much, but you are still a newlywed. Evere and I have been married a long time, and you just can’t...”

“Mesdans smell.” Evere grunted, cutting Mina off.

Mina wrinkled her nose. “What did you say?”

“You heard me,” Evere insisted. “Mesdans stink. I can’t stand it. Every time I get a good whiff of you, it triggers my gag reflex.”

Mina chuckled calmly, but there was nothing calm in her eyes. “No, I’m sure you are mistaken, I most certainly do not smell bad.”

Evere looked right back at her. When he didn’t back down, Mina looked around at the others for confirmation, but each of them intentionally avoided her glare.

“Fine, I'll ask Alder then,” Mina growled.

“Why me?” Alder squeaked.

“Because I know you won’t lie to me. Tell me, do I smell bad?”

Alder’s eyes flickered towards the doorway, and for a second it looked like he might flee. Instead, he stood up tall as he could and straightened out his uniform. “Mrs. Duvare, you are one of the cleanest individuals I have ever met. You bathe and clean yourself impeccably on a daily basis,” he began.

“See, I told...”

“However, your natural musk is quite pungent.”

Mina’s arms fell down at her side.

“I am sure you Mesdans do not even notice it,” Alder soothed, “but to outsiders it can be quite strong.”

Mina could only stand there, looking deflated.

“See, this is good,” Ryin encouraged. “Now that this is out in the open, we can deal with it.”

Mina sat down and pulled out a small notebook and began writing in it.

“What is that?” Evere asked.

“This is my grudge diary,” Mina growled. “Normally, I’d wait till later but I’m just too upset right now to wait.”

“Your what?”

“A grudge diary is where she writes down every wrong or insult ever done to her for future use,” Alder explained.

“Future use?”

“In an argument, for instance, or when demanding a favor,” Alder elucidated.

“Wait, how would you know about her grievance journal?” Evere demanded.

Alder blinked. “All women keep a grudge diary.”

Evere laughed mightily. “No, they don’t.”

Athel reached into her belt and pulled out a small pink notebook and waved it around. Margaret reached into her purse and took out a tome so large that it rattled the table when she set it down. All the men stared at Margaret.

“Um, when you work in customer service, you get yelled at a lot,” Margaret giggled, trying to excuse herself.

Dr. Griffin lifted up the tome. “Is there a whole section just dedicated to me?” he asked, peering inside.

“Don’t read it!” Margaret yelled, slamming the book on his fingers.

“A grudge diary,” Privet repeated aloud as he rubbed his temples. “By the gods, you women are petty.”

“Are we now?” Athel asked. All three women dropped their heads down and began making a new entry in their respective diaries.

“No, wait,” Privet protested. “You don’t have to...Aw, crap.”

Ryin scooted his chair over next to Mina’s. “Mina, it’s your turn,” he encouraged. Say what you really feel.”

“Fine,” Mina said, a slight tremble in her voice as she looked up at her husband. “Since we are all being so hurtfully honest, and since we are doing it front of everybody...I've always had trouble seeing you as a man.”

“What?” Evere asked, scratching his solid chin in confusion.

“You don’t have a tail.”

“Of course I don’t have a tail, woman!” Evere grunted as he stood up, his vice-like hands clenched, his barrel-like chest heaving.

“You're a bear of a man, no doubts there, but with Mesdans, the virility of a man is measured only by the size of his tail,” Mina explained. “The larger the tail, the better mate he is. In fact, in any pack it is the man with the largest tail who is designated as the Alpha, regardless of age.”

“So,” Evere grunted. “Because I don’t have a tail I seem to you like a...like a...”

“A eunuch, yes,” Mina assured him.

Ryin burst out laughing.

“By thunder, woman! That is unfair. You know I’m not Mesdan!”

“Of course I know that!” Mina shot back, her tail sticking up straight. “But I just can’t help seeing things that way. It is the way I was raised.”

“This is good, this is good,” Ryin coaxed. “Let’s have some more, get it all out.”

“She keeps snuffing out the iron furnace in our room,” Evere complained. “I can’t sleep in a freezing bedroom.”

“So, put on a coat, or cover up with a blanket,” Mina shot back. “It’s not like I can take this fur coat off, you know!”

Privet sat down and grabbed a bowl of popcorn.

“You don’t really care, do you Colenat?” Privet accused.

“Of course I do,” Ryin replied, stuffing a handful of popcorn into his mouth. “This is the most fun I've had in weeks.”

“Mesdan couples are supposed to sleep curled up together,” Mina shouted. “But he keeps pushing me off of him during the night until I’m curled up at the foot of the bed like a blasted pet.”

“That’s because I keep getting your fur caught in my throat. Suffocating is not fun for us, Tomani.”

“You always come to me for advice every time there is a decision to be made,” Mina complained.

“Of course I do,” Evere yelled back. “For my people, the matriarch of any caravan should be allowed to voice her opinion on important matters before a decision is made. It is a sign of respect, you thick-headed trollop.”

“Yes, but don’t you see that to a Mesdan that is a sign of weakness? An Alpha takes charge, that is what makes him the Alpha!”

“Why would I want to be like a Mesdan Alpha? They are the ones that took my eyes!”

“Jabint’s teeth!” Mina swore. “No matter what, it’s always back to the blasted eyes with you,” she complained, throwing her arms up.

“Of course it is,” Evere said, popping out one of the black orbs, revealing the empty eye socket left behind. “When I was born there was an eye in here. Having them taken out by red-hot pokers kind of leaves an impression on you. Filthy Mesdans!”

“Effeminate Tomani!”

At that point, Evere and Mina stopped using words all together and simply started screaming back and forth at each other. Mina’s screams released blades of sonic energy that tore through the banquet, slicing saucers and dishes in half and scattering food all over the room. Tim panicked and flapped his wings. A roast duck disintegrated, spraying meat and bone all over Margaret. A coconut flew directly at Privet’s head, but he batted it away with the back of his plate. A tray of pineapples exploded, dousing Dr. Griffin with juice and rind. Back and forth they yelled, until finally fatigue overtook them and they sat down, breathing heavily from exertion.

The only other sound was that of Margaret’s pen, scratching away furiously in her notebook.

“Fascinating,” Margaret mumbled to herself, duck juice dripping from her hair. “Professor Olem will love this.”